Disclaimer: I own nothing, everything owned by respective owners
Summary: Natasha ends up in an alternate universe because the scientist three and their assistants couldn't leave well enough alone.
Author's Note: Please excuse the story for errors (grammar and factual). I am likely taking liberties with the information I'm gathering on Braavos. I'm not very confident but I am trying. Thank you. I had the big scene/confrontation in my head when watching the latest season of Game of Thrones. I then felt this need to mesh these two fandoms out. I had to get it out there because I've had it in my head for months. However it's writing to get to that point that has me flustered. (I haven't read enough of the books and have poor memory so I've been relying on Google and websites… So I'm kind of stuck but I am slowly working on the next installment. That said, this is going to be two parts only.) Please read and review. Don't like? Don't read.

I was once before, never again

Natasha groaned as her muscles protested in agony. Bones creaked loudly as she stretched arms to either side then over head. She was done with portals. She was done with aliens. She was done with the weird shit. She was completely and utterly done. She was also soaking wet from climbing onto the partially submerged buildings.

She wanted to go back to being a regular spy. There was nothing like your basic espionage with gaining trust of a target, interrogating targets that don't realize they are being interrogated who then give up their information, and breaking and entering to obtain information both digitally and literally. Well as regular and basic as one could be given her history.

She wanted to work with the Barton before Loki had decided to attack New York. She wanted to work with the Barton before Loki had stolen Clint's autonomy, something that he was still coming to terms with if his perpetual home projects was an indication. Barton would always be her partner but seeing him in pain was difficult at times. She felt as if she had failed him, and failed Laura in keeping him safe.

She knew what Clint was going through and could only help him and Laura the best she could. Especially with the unspoken worry about Loki attacking his family in the future. Loki did after all see everything. She could only watch on the sidelines. She wanted get their missions done. She wanted to visit Laura and the children. She wanted to go back to bringing down drug cartels, terrorists, and fanatic groups.

Those were indeed simpler times.

It all started when Tony Stark was kidnapped, built a rudimentary suit, and changed the world forever with the introduction of Iron Man; Bruce Banner became the Hulk; a demi god fell from Asgard and brought with him a magic hammer that she had taken to call Mew-Mew (after hearing Jane Foster's intern Darcy call it that) with a homicidal not-in-reality-Asgardian brother and his fire-breathing robots in tow; S.H.I.E.L.D. thawed an old man (she misses teasing him) out of the ice (who she was going to try and set up with that nice "nurse" if she made it back); the Chitauri along with an even more homicidal not-in-reality-Asgardian but Frost Giant prince in tow (which she'd always harbor a lingering anger towards for hurting Clint and murdering Coulson); the Hydra sleeper agents who awoke after years of infiltrating nearly every large corporation, government and other influential bodies with that the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D (she'd never get over nearly losing her handler and friend, Fury); then came an army of robots (as punishment she'd make Stark, even if the Maximoff girl had been responsible, train with her. Hell, she'd train with the Maximoff girl for good measure).

Natasha was convinced that somehow someone somewhere had said something along the lines of being nice to machines for when they took over, clearly jinxing them.

How else to explain then all of this?

Did someone else make some sort of comment as to how all the Avengers needed was to travel to another dimension, because that seemed like the likely next "big" event? Because she would hunt them down and make them vow to never "jinx" them again.

Natasha wanted to go back to a world that made sense: where men and women would use and abuse others for their own gain without the aid out-of-this-world weaponry where the most dangerous weapon was Stark weaponry bought on the black market.

There was no shadow organization involved this was no megalomaniac attempting the destruction of reality itself (thanks to Darcy for introducing her to Doctor Who). The situation she was in was the direct result of the "science bros" helping Jane Foster. More accurately, they were messing with yet another alien technology they did not fully understand. She could only wonder if the others were caught up in the same blast, whether or not they were located somewhere else in this world, or to make everything that much more complicated (because it would most likely be this) if the others were in other completely different dimensions.

From what she could recall there was one particular merc with a mouth who could travel to other dimensions or dimension jumping as he called it. The only jumping she liked to do was of the ballet variaty such as the sissonne, renverse, jeté passé and others. He did always seem to say that above all else avoid the ones with the weirdly futuristic dystopian societies (the ones that could have been featured in a young adult fiction novel), and the medieval ones. They were ninety-nine percent bad news.

This one was clearly something out of a medieval-based novel. Now the next step was to figure out if it was closer to a historical romance filled with anachronisms, fluff and no real danger (ha, you wish Natasha's brain supplied) or one that was a bit closer to actual medieval history with liberal dashes of whatever made this world tick–most likely awful things (of course it'd be this Natasha's brain responded with a groan following).

If Thor's allspeak worked here then she'd had wish to have that ability but it was likely going to be useless. However wishes were for the idealistic and the hopeless. Natasha was not idealistic but hoping that this was not a hopeless situation. Natasha could only hope that someone would understand her English.

Natasha supposed one small win in her favor was that she did not find herself transported in the middle of the ocean with likely little chance of finding help. No, she found herself transported in the cold waters of an unknown harbor of an unknown dimension. Noticing the partially submerged buildings, Natasha hid herself above the water. She allowed herself to hide among the ruins that peaked out from the watery grave. It allowed her a chance to dry off in the warm sun. She began to think about how she was going to move about in an alternate dimension's medieval world and not get put into prison, tortured, or worse, put to death (and no, Hermione Granger, getting expelled was not worse than death, again thanks to Darcy for introducing her to Harry Potter). She could only guess of what kind of methods they employed here and none were likely quick and painless.

With the sun finally setting she submerged into the water shivering against the cold. It was not ideal but it would have to do. It was a small comfort that her suit was shielding her core from the cold. One other feature in her favor was that the suit was made of a hydrophobic material that would repel a good amount of water. It was by no means fully repellent, it's weakness being the seams and zipper as well as her exposed hands. It was enough that Natasha did not have to add hypothermia to the list. She reached the shore as quickly as she could without gaining attention.

Her first goal was to find shelter. Even though she knew she'd have to blend in as soon as possible, shelter somewhere would allow her to get out of the cool night air. She walked through the tight-knit streets noticing that this section was a small island being connected by bridges. Natasha wondered if the rest of the city was like this. It'd make moving around a bit more difficult because bridges did not provide adequate coverage. She headed to what seemed like a major canal and noticed the large statues that were erected south of her. They seemed to worship heroes, warriors, or both. With any luck Natasha would be able to use that to her advantage.

She quickly and quietly crossed the bridge. There was a large building. It looked to be a tavern with an inn attached. If she was lucky, and it seemed to her frustration that luck was all she could rely on at the moment, she'd be able to find shelter, food and drink in exchange for her services.

Entering the premises was always going to be a delicate affair. There was an immediate and expected distrust from the owners. With their busy establishment and being part of a bustling merchant city, their caution was par of the course. Natasha was going to have to have to play the game even more skillfully.

Their questioning eyes, and downward eyebrows made Natasha's own eyebrows knit upwards as if in distress. She discreetly made note of the patrons, and the eel racing, as well as potential exits.

"I'm not from around here," Natasha said quietly with a long practiced feigned innocence.

"We coulda figured that one out, love," the owner said with a nonchalance that disguised the steel in his voice.

"My party, they robbed me, left me for dead," Natasha said with lips quivering, and a small scowl as if recalling the terrible memories, "I need shelter, food, drink. I have no money but I am skilled."

"We've got servers," the host replied.

"I have many skills," Natasha continued.

"Tis not that kind of establishment," the owner interrupted.

"While I can only guess at what you are inferring, no," Natasha playing the part of "pure maiden" guessing anything else would be liable to cause problems (even if she did inwardly roll her eyes), paused as if wondering how to phrase her next set of thoughts, "I know how to fend for myself. The party, it was five men against me. They only got away because they had drugged my drink."

"So you a warrior then," the owner gave her a once over, disbelief etched in the wrinkles of his skin, "slip of a girl, you, against five men?"

"I am very good at what I do," Natasha said with a slight smirk and a modest bow of her head.

"Alright then," the host said wiping the counter slowly thinking of how to test the oddly dressed woman in front of him, "see them two gents over there? They're overdue on their tab. Get me my money and you get a place to stay. You're gonna have ta to change out of them clothes, funny foreign clothes, never know what is gonna come out from the west."

With her clothes changed, Natasha began to get to work. It was almost too appallingly easy in getting the two men to pay their overdue accounts and gambling debts. Though if the world had taught her anything it was that these two goons were going to report to their boss.

Their boss would likely be offended that they were dealt with so easily. Never mind the fact that their supposed boss did not have a handle on their gambling issues. Having men lose control with something like gambling and drinking always spelled out bigger issues. Lack of control apparent in the men's debts meant they were more a liability then anything else. Something that could be used as leverage against their boss.

However who was she to tell the supposed boss how to run their business? She could always use the practice she supposed. She was going to have to learn what weapons dominated this world though if it was her guess fucking huge ass swords. She grimaced.

Natasha preferred other weapons than ones that screamed phallic fantasies from the top of their lungs. She knew she was being unfair and rude but finding oneself in a medieval fantasy dimension generally did that to someone. Natasha was fed up with having to rely on luck, she was going to have to rely on skill because luck always ran dry early.

To be continued