They hadn’t exactly picked the castle’s most luxurious entry point, but their escort had been pretty sure that fake Tony would have gotten back to the castle ahead of them and the defences would be on alert. This semi-forgotten water channel led directly from outside the walls to just under the castle’s dungeons—it had been sealed off with a grate, iron bars fixed in the stone, but Steve and Bucky had made short work of that.
There wasn’t enough room to stand up completely straight, and they had to shuffle along carefully with their feet on either side of the thin soup of muck that ran along the bottom of the channel to avoid getting it on themselves. At least, despite the greenish tinge to the water and the oily patterns on the walls, it didn’t actually smell that bad. Steve and Bucky led, with Natasha directly behind them, keeping an eye on Mrs Davis. Yelena and Pietro were behind her, with Sam acting as rearguard.
“I dunno,” Pietro said teasingly. He was speaking quietly, but his voice echoed hollowly in the stone space. “I think that last bit was actually pretty funny.”
“You only think it was funny because you weren’t the one being picked on,” Yelena grumbled.
“You know what Wanda’s like,” he said, chuckling. “It’s like when a cat singles out a person who doesn’t like cats and decides that they must climb into their lap. Of course this place is going to pick on you when you complain so much about the songs. It’s exactly what Wanda would do.”
Yelena made a small, noncommittal grunt of annoyance—Natasha was glad she was facing forward, so her sister wouldn’t be able to see her grinning at her reaction.
“…she’s the girl who didn’t like musicals…” Pietro said, his tone matching the cadence the words had been sung in earlier.
“Don’t you dare,” Yelena hissed.
“The star of the show,” Natasha murmured quietly, just loud enough for them to hear her. Pietro snorted, trying not to laugh, but Yelena didn’t respond again.
Ahead of her, Steve paused and held up a hand to bring the group to a halt. “Okay,” he said over his shoulder. “The entrance is just up ahead. If we’re lucky, no one will be in the room.” The smell of the drain had grown more pungent as they’d gone deeper, but not in a bad way—from the oils on the walls, Nat was pretty sure the water that was draining down here had, oddly enough, been treated with perfume and botanicals.
They quieted down and followed his lead to a narrow overhead grate, which he easily pushed open and climbed up through. Once he’d confirmed the coast was clear, he reached down with a hand to help pull Bucky up. Nat gestured for Mrs Davis to sidle past her, linking her fingers together to provide a step for the elderly woman’s foot. “Oh, there’s not a ladder or something, is there?” Mrs Davis said, looking reluctantly at Nat’s hands. She tittered nervously. “Only I’m not as spry as I used to be, and—”
“It’s okay,” Steve said gently. He and Bucky were both on their knees, reaching down toward her. “We’ve got you. Just reach up.”
“Uh, okay, um.” Mrs Davis put her hands on Nat’s shoulders, trying to steady herself as she stepped up, then wobbled awkwardly as she flailed upwards with one hand for a moment. Steve managed to snag her, and she reluctantly let go of Nat’s shoulder with her other so she could reach up and Bucky could take hold of her as well. The two men carefully lifted her out—as they fully took her weight and she was lifted out of Natasha’s hands, the elderly woman made a small meep of distress and her feet kicked out, one catching Natasha full in the face before she could duck out of the way. “Oh, I’m so sorry! Are you okay?!”
“You’re okay, you’re good,” Nat said with a wince, waiting for Mrs Davis to be clear. The rest of the group quickly followed up into the storage room—there was shelving stacked high with bottles and soaps. It seemed a little out of place for what was ostensibly a dungeon.
Steve was standing at the single door leading into the room—he’d cracked it open and was peering out. Strangely, the faint sounds of people laughing and talking filtered in from the corridor beyond. After a moment, Steve closed the door and turned to address everyone. “Alright. We’re just going to walk on through. The attendants know us,” he said, indicating himself, Bucky and Sam. “So as long as we act like nothing’s going on, there shouldn’t be any trouble. Unless the dungeon’s mistress delays us, of course.”
Before Natasha could ask about the ‘mistress’, he turned and opened the door, walking straight out into the corridor beyond. She made a small noise of irritation in the back of her throat—the real Steve would have briefed them better about what they were walking into—then hurried after him.
The corridor was well-appointed, with tiled floors and a side passage that looked and smelled like it led to a bathing area. There were definitely various conversations and giggling happening, just out of view; the sounds coming from both the side passage as well as wherever the corridor led to. This place looked more like a day spa than anything Natasha would describe as a ‘dungeon’.
A couple appeared at the far end of the corridor—a blonde woman wearing only a pristine white, lace-edged chemise and a man with a small towel wrapped around his waist, both of them extremely attractive. They grinned and waved at Steve as they moved past the group, heading toward the bathing area. Steve and Bucky seemed both completely at their ease, returning the friendly gestures before moving on. Natasha just followed their lead.
At the end of the corridor there was a sharp turn that almost immediately led into a larger room filled with another dozen assorted men and women, all lounging about in various states of undress, eating fruit from large bronze platters, chatting and laughing gaily. Steve led them boldly out into it and Nat hesitated a moment, looking around.
“Should we go back and get some towels so we can blend in?” Mrs Davis asked in a faux whisper, a surprisingly eager edge to her tone.
“I don’t think that’s going to be necessary.” Bucky shook his head.
“Well… okay. If you said so.”
“What is this?” Pietro asked, looking around with a confused expression on his face. “I thought you said we were going to come out in a dungeon?”
Steve noticed their hesitation, stopping and taking a step back to look at them with a slightly quizzical expression on his face, as though he wasn’t sure why they’d stopped. “Yes? Sorry, I don’t follow.”
Pietro gestured toward the scantily-clad figures. “This is not a dungeon.”
The confusion persisted a moment, then a lightbulb went off and a flicker of understanding passed across Steve’s face. He nodded. “Ah. Sorry. There’s been some miscommunication. You were expecting cells, torture chambers, and the like?”
“It’s not that kind of dungeon,” Bucky said, folding his arms and shooting Pietro a dubious look. “You keep saying that you’re Wanda’s brother, but I’m starting to wonder if you’ve ever even actually met the woman before.”
Pietro’s eyes went even wider and Yelena chuckled at his obvious discomfort. “Why are you so surprised? You know what Wanda’s like,” she said, turning his own words back on him. “Your sister has two types of thoughts: horny and intrusive.”
Steve smiled at that, turning back to lead the group once more, while Bucky chuckled along with Yelena, nodding his agreement. Mrs Davis was looking around, a little perplexed. “I feel like we’re not supposed to be in here,” she said, faux-whispering. Natasha just shrugged and gestured for the elderly woman to follow as she continued after Steve.
As they moved out of this room, they came to a large, vaulted hall with even more attendants scattered about. A spiral staircase at the far end, a line of attendants taking up one side of it, all facing forward. They watched the group expectantly as they approached. Steve stopped a few paces short of the base of the stairs, looking up at them, a slight frown on his face.
“Uh, Cap?” Bucky said, also looking up at the attendants on the stairs rather guardedly. “I think we might have missed our window.”
“Oh, not at all! I think you’ve come at the perfect time,” said a woman’s voice from the top of the stairs, just out of sight. The owner appeared a moment later, spinning into view with a neat pirouette that ended with her being caught in the strong, muscular arms of the nearest of attendant. She had long, bright auburn hair, similar to Wanda’s, but it was another actress… not actually her. She wore a low-cut, high-waisted bright red latex bodysuit, with matching gloves and high-heeled boots, a costume cape hanging loosely around her shoulders, and a red headpiece that spiked upward—suggestive of horns—framing her face.
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“Who… is that supposed to be Wanda?” Pietro hissed, eyes wide, sounding a little alarmed. He’d backed up a step involuntarily.
“Elizabeth Olsen,” Nat replied quietly. “Another actress. You know the Olsen Twins? Their younger sister.”
“There’s going to be another song, isn’t there?” Yelena muttered miserably, mostly to herself.
The music had already started to build—a dance-pop disco tune—and the incredibly sexualised fake Wanda started flouncing down the stairs dramatically, her attendants following after her to form a squad of backup dancers. “You’ve trespassed upon my kingdom, and now you’re in my sway,” she sang in a light, high soprano. “Which basically means, as the queen of all queens, I’m going to make you pay!”
She flicked both hands out and long strands of red chaos magic flowed out from her, corralling their group and prodding at them to line them all up as she reached the bottom of the stairs. Sam’s falcon flew from his wrist up into the rafters, finding a perch to watch curiously from. “Redwing!” he hissed at it, looking a little betrayed.
“Will we be throwing them in the dungeon?” one of the attendants sang-asked excitedly. “Or tossing them to the Hulk?” another chimed in.
Fake Wanda grinned. “Well, one thing’s for sure, I’ll settle the score, and trust me it’s more than fair… Off with their shirts!” She flicked her hand and Nat flinched as her leather armour slipped away from her, every single strap holding it in place neatly severed as it was pulled gently off her body. She glanced to the side and saw that everyone else had just had the exact same thing happen—everyone except Mrs Davis, of course, who seemed exempt. The attendants had gathered in a rough circle around them, giving fake Wanda a parade of scantily-clad backup dancers.
“Don’t be shy, boys, go to town,” she continued to sing, sashaying her way between them as she continued to hold them in place with her magic. She raked her fingernails along the top of Natasha’s collarbone, tracing a line to her throat. “I’ll bet that chest is heaven-blessed, so firm and pert… off with their tops!”
She stepped back from Nat and waved her hand again. This time, it was Natasha’s tunic and pants that essentially disintegrated, the front half of them unweaving themselves in an instant so that they fell to the ground, leaving her in just a set of small, lacy black underthings that she was actually fairly certain that she hadn’t been wearing until this very moment. Once again, it wasn’t just her. Mrs Davis still seemed exempt from the magical clothes-disintegration, but Yelena was wearing a set of lingerie that matched Natasha’s and Steve, Sam and Bucky had been reduced to only a tiny, leather-strapped, pouch thong each. Pietro had been spared that, ‘only’ having been stripped to a set of what were effectively shorts—as Nat glanced at him, his head snapped away from Yelena just a little bit too quickly, so that he was looking in Natasha’s direction instead. He didn’t seem to care about her near-nudity, exchanging a helpless ‘what do we do?’ look with her instead of reacting the way he had to her sister.
“Let them fly!” Fake Wanda stepped up to fake Steve, ducking down and slipping one arm lightly around Mrs Davis’s shoulders to direct the elderly woman’s attention to Steve body. “Check that six-pack, it’s to die…”
Mrs Davis’s eyes were wide and round. “Oh! Oh my.”
“Bring out the crowd, you bunch of flirts, off with their shirts!” Fake Wanda strutted across the room, miming as though she were pulling a rope and they were forced to shuffle to stay facing her, the line rotating with the space between Pietro and Natasha as its axis.
Fake Wanda was still singing. “And for my pleasure I’ll keep you waiting—who knows just how long you’ll serve?” She grinned, shark-like. “But baby you bet, you’re gonna get, the punishment I deserve!”
As her words and the music built on each other, she raised her hand triumphantly, ready to gesture again and strip them of whatever scrap of dignity they had remaining, a wide-eyed look of lascivious expectation on her face. Natasha braced herself. The woman opened her mouth. “Off with—”
“Absolutely not,” a familiar and extremely welcome voice snapped from the stairs, cutting fake Wanda off even as a spear of red magic lashed around her raised wrist and down her arm, locking her in place. There was an almost-comical record scratch sound as the music stopped as well. All eyes turned toward the stairs, where Wanda, dressed in a simple red silk dressing gown, was storming down them, followed closely behind by…
Another Wanda?
Two Wandas.
“Alright, show’s over. Everyone out.” The first one said, looking angry and a little bit mortified. “Wait, do we have like, robes or something? Please? God.”
The attendants offered the stripped group some silk robes to cover themselves before hurriedly making their way out of the room through various side passages and up the stairs. The first Wanda paused and nearly flinched as she saw Mrs Davis, who was obliviously smiling and waving goodbye to the underdressed attendants as they left—they were waving back politely. She turned to shoot the other Wanda an accusatory look. “You didn’t tell me that she was with them,” she said quietly, sounding a little resentful.
The other shook her head. “What would have been the point? It only would have upset you.”
The first one sighed, then peered at the Elizabeth Olsen Wanda in fetish gear she’d pinned in place with her magic. She flushed slightly, bit her bottom lip as she considered the woman’s outfit, then released her hold and flicked her head toward the stairs in a dismissive gesture. Suitably chastened, the fake Wanda fled, shooting Natasha a quick wink as she vacated the room.
“Wanda, I—” Steve started to say, but Wanda held up a hand.
“Thanks, Steve, for bringing them here. You don’t need to explain. The three of you should go… get dressed or something. We can take it from here.”
He hesitated a moment, looking back at Nat. She nodded, giving him a grateful smile. “Alright,” he said, glancing at Sam and Bucky. “We’ll leave it to you, then.”
Soon, the only ones that remained in the room were the people who had arrived here from Westview… and the extra Wanda, for some reason, who’d hung back while the real one issued orders. Or wait, was that the real Wanda and the one taking charge was fake? Why were there two that looked the same?
Natasha looked a little closer. The second one wasn’t missing the tip of her ring finger—okay, so she wasn’t the real Wanda—but then why…? Nat stiffened slightly. Now that she was studying her, she could see that the second Wanda had faintly-glowing lines of circuitry in her eyes.
Nat looked at Wanda askance, tilting her head toward the AI. “Is that Eliza?”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Pietro’s stance shift, as though he was getting ready for a fight. Wanda looked back at the AI, a complicated expression on her face. “Kind of. It’s complicated.”
“Don’t worry,” said Eliza, easing exactly zero of Natasha’s worries. “I’m not here to mess anything up. Was just helping out.”
“So do I just…?” Wanda looked at the AI, sounding unsure.
“You already know what to do,” Eliza said confidently. “Your mind defines this place, remember?”
A beat after she finished talking, without any fanfare at all, a door appeared in the wall next to Wanda. One moment, it was a blank wall, the next—as if between blinks of the eye—the same pristine white front door that her magic had conjured in the empty lot was sitting there. It simply wasn’t, then it was.
Wanda looked at it, something unreadable in her expression. After a moment, she reached for the door handle and Nat felt herself tense up, half-expecting another disorienting burst of light and sensation. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Yelena do the same. This time, however, Wanda’s hand simply closed around the handle. She turned it, and the door opened. Plainly visible on the other side of the threshold was the back of the ‘For Sale’ sign of the empty lot, open sky and the sidewalk and asphalt of Sherwood Drive beyond it.
Wanda turned back toward them, her eyes firmly glued to the floor. She looked embarrassed. Ashamed. “I’m really sorry about all this,” she said quietly, indicating the open door with a small flick of her hand. “We can leave now.”
Okay. First thing’s first. Natasha glanced at Mrs Davis and gave her a tight smile. “Okay. Mrs Davis—Yelena, can you…?”
Yelena stepped forward eagerly, gesturing for the elderly woman to follow her as she hurried through the door. She paused on the other side, looking back to check on and offer a hand to Mrs Davis to help her through. The two of them continued on past the sign until they reached the sidewalk. There was a moment where their current state of dress persisted, then Nat blinked and their clothes had gone back to their normal, original state, before any of this had happened.
At the same time, Pietro moved over toward Wanda, touching his sister on the shoulder. Reluctantly, she looked up at him. “You’re sure you’re okay?” he asked.
Her lips compressed into a thin line and she shook her head slightly. “I’m fine. I’ll be right behind you.”
Pietro’s jaw worked silently for a moment as he studied her, concern still visible on his face, but then he nodded and followed the others out. As he moved out of the way, Wanda was left looking at Nat and visibly suppressed a flinch.
“Hey,” Nat said softly, stepping toward her. “It’s okay. Nothing bad happened. Everyone’s fine.”
“Yeah…” Wanda said, but she didn’t sound like she believed it. She tilted her head toward the door. “Let’s just go, please. We can talk later.”
Nat nodded and moved past her, turning around the moment she was on the other side and holding out her hand for Wanda to take.
Wanda turned to face her, but hesitated for a moment as Eliza appeared at her side. The AI reached over, gently taking hold of Wanda’s wrist. Wanda looked at the AI, a question in her expression, but didn’t resist as Eliza pulled her into a tight embrace. There was even a hint of a smile on her face as she returned the hug… it was a little bizarre, seeing Wanda hugging her doppelganger.
Eliza’s lips moved as she whispered into Wanda’s ear. Nat was close enough that she could just barely hear some of the words, and she could mostly see Eliza’s mouth—between what she could hear and her skill at lipreading, it was enough that she could tell what the AI was saying. “Don’t let them hold you back from doing what you have to do. If you have to kill, kill. If you have to rule, rule. If you have to burn it all to the ground… let it burn.”
Nat felt a spike of concern. She really hoped that Wanda would open up to her later about whatever she’d spoken about with Eliza. Once the AI had finished, Wanda pulled back from the embrace a little, standing face-to-face with her as a weirdly charged moment of unspoken tension passed between them. Crazily, for the briefest instant, Nat almost thought they were going to kiss.
Then whatever it was was gone and Wanda withdrew completely, turning to take Natasha’s hand and step through the open doorway. Once through, she stopped, turning to look back into the weird pocket dimension or whatever it was.
And Eliza started to sing.
Well, not sing, exactly. The AI didn’t use words, just a simple a da-da-da patter instead to merely suggest them. It wasn’t a tune that Natasha recognised, but Wanda stopped to listen. After a little while, she seemed to realise what the song was and shot the AI an unimpressed look. Eliza grinned back, straightening her back and singing louder. Wanda gestured with her hand, looking annoyed. Small wisps of red magic took hold of the door handle and closed it firmly behind them, cutting the AI’s performance off.
Nat blinked, and the door was gone.