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Chapter Text

Wind stirred his fur. 

Cadoc wrinkled his nose against the scent of the lake, the weird mix of fish, water and magic.  He sat on the mossy banks and frowned at the sight of his wizard sat uncomfortably on the ground, curled into the shoulder of his sister-witch, Vivien.  It wasn’t that Cadoc was disinclined to offer his own comfort, but he knew the fur and claws he wore were not the touch Myrddin needed.    

Arthur, the High King of Albion whom Myrddin loved, had taken a blade in the leg, one forged to poison the very magic which had created him.  His people had carried him to the shores of the lake and Myrddin had steered the boat into the Realm of Avalon, the Realm of the Fae.  Only Fae magic might save the King.

Cadoc shivered as the Fae Queen approached, translucent wings tucked into her back, her long red hair hanging in a single braid down her back.  Her floaty gown was held up by two silver straps before cascading down her body in a rush of silver spider silk.

Myrddin’s head snapped up at the sound of the flower bells ringing in her wake.  He spun away from Vivien who moved back to the water as Myrddin pinned the Queen with a hopeful look. 

Queen Mab sighed as she cupped Myrddin’s red-bearded cheek, for he could be young in Avalon instead of grey and old.  “The King’s magic is cleansed and he will be born and live again, Myrddin, but not for many lifetimes yet.”

Myrddin shuddered in her embrace before he nodded sharply.  The green eyes he’d inherited from her shone with gratitude and renewed hope.  “But he will live again.”

“The future is yet unwritten,” Mab murmured softly.  “Will you stay with him?”

Myrddin shook his head.  “Albion will have need of me,” his lips twisted, “and I have always known mine own Fate.”

“Albion will have nought but unrest for centuries,” Mab intoned, her sight far away, “the peace Arthur brokered broken, men will kill men, powers will come and go.  Camelot will fall brick by brick into the hillside.  I will need to hide Avalon lest it also fall to the greed of Man.”

Myrddin rubbed a hand furiously through his own thick red fall of hair.  “You will hide Avalon?”

“I must do what is right for Avalon,” Mab said simply.

Cadoc flicked his ear at that, but a familiar did not argue with the Queen of the Fae, especially not when she was his wizard’s mother.

Myrddin paced away and whirled around.  “When?”

“When you leave,” Mab said firmly.  “The path will fade from the memory of men.”

“You will take magic away from Albion?” asked Myrddin harshly. 

Mab cocked her head, her eyes sharp on Myrrdin who flushed red in response.  “There was magic in Albion long before Avalon found its way there, Myrddin.  The Hunt still rides.” She sighed.  “And I have lost three daughters to men.  They will no more return than you, my son.”

Myrddin blinked.  “It is a strange time to claim me as yours.  You never have before.”

Cadoc could hear the hurt the wizard tried hard to hide.

“The path between us has never been closed before,” Mab pointed out.  She sighed and walked over to Myrddin, enfolding him in her embrace.

Myrddin resisted for all a moment before returning it carefully.

She stroked a hand over his hair, drinking in the sight of him.  “You are the son I made when I walked as flesh and blood in my grief for my love’s death.  I thought you fully human and so I left you in Albion in the care of a good woman and with Cadoc to watch over you.”

Cadoc remembered those days nostalgically.  Gwen had been a very good woman, free with scraps from the table for the cat at her feet.

“My father?” asked Myrddin.

Mab smiled at him sadly.  “The Wild Huntsman walked the Earth that night as a man, but he rode away on the sun’s first light.  His calling keeps him from ever recognising a child of his magic, just as mine kept me from naming you my son all this time.”

Myrddin bowed his head in understanding.  “I should go.”

She placed a kiss on his forehead, shining with magic; a blessing.  “You are but flesh and blood, but your magic is forever.  There may be more to your Fate than simply what you See.”  She smiled at him.  “Be assured that magic will endure in Albion, Myrddin.  Too many will be beyond the veil when I close the path.”

Myrddin frowned at her words.  “All the more reason for my return.”

Cadoc got to his paws and stretched, arching his back until the kinks of sitting so long eased away into languid grace.  He was much better than the Hunt’s dogs.      

He padded over to his wizard and rubbed his large head against Mryddin’s knee.  He would go with his wizard for they were bound; Myrddin’s Fate was Cadoc’s Fate.  The Fae Queen may have asked for his help when his wizard was nothing more than a wrinkly babe, but Cadoc had come to love Myrddin.

Myrddin stepped into the small boat they’d taken to traverse the lake and Cadoc leaped in after him.  He settled on a forgotten heap of cloth in the prow. 

Vivien swam up to the side and with a wave of her hand Excalibur rose from the water.  It gleamed brightly under the rays of the sun, metal glinting and shining with promise.  “You will need this.”

“It is the King’s,” Myrddin argued, pulling his travelling cloak around him. “You should keep it for him.  It is the reason why Bedwyr threw it back at Guinevere’s request.”

“The sword is mine magic and mine to gift,” Vivien chided Myrddin gently.  “It is my parting gift to you who I can now call brother in truth; the sword is made for justice and truth; it will choose a worthy Knight to wield it while Albion waits for the return of its King.”

Vivien’s blue eyes shone with power for a moment, the sword glowing before it lowered itself into the boat, a scabbard of magic wrapping around its blade.

Cadoc watched as Vivien fell back into the lake, disintegrating into a million droplets of water.

Myrddin took the oar and pushed away from the bank.  Magic caught the boat and steered it across the water.  Myrddin stood silently, his eyes looking back at Avalon and the watching figure of his mother.

Cadoc curled up and slept, knowing the journey was long.  He stirred again as the boat bumped gently against the old wooden jetty on the banks of Albion.  He stretched again, shaking his fur out and leaping happily from the rickety boat to the firm earth.  He sank his claws into the dirt, relishing the scent of wood and grass; the smell of prey on the wind.

Myrddin stroked a hand over him as the path opened up in the forest ahead of them; the path back to Albion and away from Avalon; the path which would be forever lost to the memory of men. 

Cadoc felt the bond between his wizard and himself vibrate with magic.  Knowledge settled into Cadoc’s bones like a map drawn into his very being.  He looked up at Myrddin with knowing green eyes as the wizard took on the appearance of an old man once more. 

“She said men would lose all memory of the path,” Myrddin smiled at him, “she never said anything about you.”

Cadoc blinked in surprise.  Myrddin always found the loopholes in what Mab proclaimed.

Myrddin’s staff appeared beside him and the wizard cast one more look at the lake where the fog was already rolling in.   He gave a mournful sigh and turned away.  Cadoc led his wizard through the forest, back into the lands of Albion.  But it was not forever, Cadoc mused.  He would keep the secret of the path to Avalon for his wizard and one day they would return home.

Chapter Text

The sharp knock on the door gave away his visitor. 

Tony paused in his packing, allowing himself a heavy sigh at the confrontation to come, before dropping the sweater in his hands and going to answer the door before Leroy Jethro Gibbs decided to let himself in anyway.

The Gibbs who stood hovering in his doorway was a far cry from the usual indomitable former Marine who helmed the Major Case Response Team for NCIS.  He looked beat up; his broken finger was splintered, with swelling and bruising visible in his other fingers; he had a spectacular bruise forming over one eye bisected with a nasty cut held together with three thin steri-strips, dark circles shadowed under his eyes and the worry lines carved across his face seemed deeper than ever.  He, like Tony, had stripped out of the formal funeral wear they’d had to don earlier that day and into casual clothing.

There was a stirring of sympathy in Tony’s gut, but it wasn’t quite enough to drown the anger that had been simmering there all month since the failed fake mission they’d performed to lure out a mole.

“Gibbs,” Tony opened the door further to allow him entry.

Gibbs entered cautiously as though Tony was an affronted alley-cat who was defending his territory against the intrusion of an unwanted human. 

Maybe he was, Tony considered wryly.  He closed the door.

“Got your message,” Gibbs stated bluntly as he stood awkwardly by the coffee table in front of the sofa.

Tony nodded briskly as he moved to stand close-by.  He’d thought after Michelle’s funeral earlier that day that Gibbs would have retreated to his basement and boat; he hadn’t really expected Gibbs to check his messages until morning when Tony would already be in England.  His eyebrow still quirked up in silent enquiry of why the news he was taking an emergency leave had brought Gibbs to his door. 

Gibbs seemed to brace himself; his shoulders straightening, chin inching up as his blue eyes met Tony’s across the short space between them.  “Are you coming back?”

Tony’s eyebrows shot up.  He crossed his arms as he leaned against the sofa.  “I’m really not sure what to say to that, Gibbs.”

Gibbs deflated like a balloon slowly losing air.  “I have a feeling…”

Ah.

Gibbs’ feelings. 

His gut. 

Premonition was a valuable and sought-after magical gift; it was why Gibbs’ superiors had often let him get away with actions that would have had another agent dismissed from NCIS.  Unfortunately, Gibbs had never had formal training, choosing instead to head straight into the military and what little training they’d given him had all been related to the job.

“And I’m really not sure what to say to that,” Tony murmured tiredly, giving into the urge to drag a hand through his hair.

Gibbs sighed.  “I know I screwed this up, Tony.”

This being the search for the mole; the feint of breaking into the secure site only for it to be a feint within a feint – one that Gibbs hadn’t shared with his senior field agent.  Tony’s anger stirred again.

“According to you, I had no need to know,” Tony bit out tersely.  “So, the Great Gibbs hath spoken, so shall it be, right?”

Gibbs flushed and fidgeted, shifting weight.  “I lost Langer.”  He waited a beat as he met Tony’s gaze again.  “I couldn’t risk losing you, any of you.”

Tony cocked his head to the side as he considered Gibbs.  “Another feeling?”  He kept his tone even, the anger suppressed.

“No,” Gibbs began to answer but stopped, chagrin storming across his face before he shook it away.  “Maybe.  I just…I knew I couldn’t risk it.”

Not for the first time, Tony regretted Gibbs’ lack of training.  It didn’t really matter, Tony mused.  Whether Gibbs had kept Tony out of it because he’d been too afraid to risk losing his team like he’d lost Brett Langer or because that fear had been driven by his gift…it didn’t matter.

“I’m tired of being used,” Tony said quietly.

Gibbs frowned.  “I wasn’t using you, Tony.”

Tony gave a humourless chuckle.  “Yes,” he pointed out dryly, “you were.”  He held up a hand when Gibbs would have continued to argue.  “You used us to create the story Michelle would believe to show herself as a spy.  We were always going to fail in our supposed mission that you gave us, and you knew that.”

“You should have been safe,” Gibbs said, guilt flickering through his gaze.  “You weren’t meant to engage the soldiers.”

“You should have known better than to think Ziva would ever follow orders,” Tony retorted.  He resisted the urge to touch his tongue to the barely healed cut on his lip; to raise a hand to where the bruising from the butt to the face had only faded thanks to Ducky’s healing.

Gibbs blew out a breath but conceded with a nod.  “She’s got to get a better grip on her impulses,” he grumbled.

“If Mossad hasn’t cured her of it, I doubt we’re going to especially since we haven’t made a dent in the years she’s been with us already,” Tony said dryly.

Gibbs huffed his agreement.

“You know she’s spying on us for her father?” Tony threw out, wondering if Gibbs did know.  Going by the shocked look on his face, maybe not.

“She’s…”

“She had too much empathy for Michelle,” Tony said tersely, “and she kind of let it slip when we were arguing about her lack of impulse control and people using us.”

Tired of pretending.

Tired of having strings yanked by others.

Her eyes had given up all her secrets, even as she’d sought to keep him from finding out.

Gibbs looked sad rather than surprised, but then they’d both known without saying a word to the other that something had been off about Ziva ever since she’d returned from Israel after Vance’s team shenanigans.

“Keeping you in the dark wasn’t intentionally using you,” Gibbs stated brusquely, “not the way you mean.”

“Maybe it wasn’t meant to be,” Tony allowed, “but that’s not what it felt like.”

There was a moment of silence as Gibbs absorbed that before he gave another sharp nod.

Tony fidgeted.  “Was it retaliation?” he blurted out.

Gibbs stared at him, incomprehension written all over his face.

“For Jeanne,” Tony expanded, “for lying to you about the Frog and Jeanne and…”

Gibbs cut him off with a sharp hand gesture, wincing as the pain of his broken finger must have made itself known.  “No.” He grimaced.  “I know I was pissed at you about it.”

And yeah, Tony had always known that.

“But,” Gibbs met his gaze firmly, “I didn’t think about that when I…when I decided you didn’t need to know about this.”  He motioned with his other hand.  “Like I said; it was a…”

“A feeling,” Tony finished sharply.

There was a long beat of silence between them as they looked at each other, guarded yet knowing.

“How do I fix this, Tony?” asked Gibbs.

Tony repressed the urge to sigh again.  He wasn’t sure Gibbs could fix it.  Between Jennifer Shepard’s blatant misuse of Tony in the pursuit of her vendetta against Rene Benoit, Vance’s initial shenanigans with the team to try and flush out the mole, and Gibbs’ latest actions…he wasn’t certain he could trust NCIS anymore.  He wasn’t sure he could trust Gibbs anymore, and that was the heartbreaker, Tony mused inwardly.

And maybe given his outburst he was deep down worried that Gibbs didn’t trust him anymore.  Jeanne was the beginning of that but Jenny dying under Tony’s supposed watch was probably the end of it.  Gibbs had been a mentor for him since Baltimore and the realisation that he might have lost his trust in the older agent, that Gibbs might have lost trust in him, was gut-wrenching.

“I think we’re going to have to thrash out how we both fix this when I get back,” Tony said softly.

Gibbs’ eyes widened a touch and his lips twisted.  “You still going?”

Tony arched an eyebrow.  “When the Grand Wizard of Albion summons you, you don’t refuse, Gibbs.”

“I guess not,” Gibbs said, wryly, blinking back his surprise.  “That’s your Uncle, right?”

“Uncle Clive,” Tony confirmed.  “My mother’s oldest brother.”

“The one who stepped in after Hawaii,” Gibbs added.

Tony nodded. 

He’d been twelve when his father had left him behind in Honolulu after a failed business trip.  He’d been scared enough to hide in the hotel using his newly discovered magic until one of the housekeepers, an old Hawaiian wise woman, had spotted him and taken him in.  She’d also called the police and at the end of it all, his Uncle Clive had taken custody of him since his father had no magic.  He’d lived in England until he was eighteen when he’d returned to the States for college. 

His Uncle had tried to coax him back a number of times but as much as Tony loved him and England, he enjoyed the life and the career he’d built too much to head back for anything other than the occasional vacation.  But maybe, Tony considered, he was ready to think about whether it was time to take up his Uncle’s invitation.  He was tired of the politics, of working with Directors he couldn’t trust, and Gibbs…well, he needed to think about whether they could fix the trust between them.

Maybe Gibbs’ feeling that he wasn’t coming back was rooted in something, Tony mused.

“Vance know?” asked Gibbs.

Tony nodded.  “A request was made through official channels for me to be released from my duties for a time to assist MI7.”

MI7 was a branch of the British Ministry of Information, the Magical Intelligence Service.  They worked with MI5 and MI6 covering anything magical across domestic and foreign affairs.

“Must have given Vance a shock,” Gibbs commented with a hint of amusement flaring in his blue gaze.

Tony shrugged lightly, but his eyes warmed with his own amusement at the memory of Vance’s sour expression when he’d briefly met in the Director’s office to agree the leave of absence.  The Director had never appreciated Tony’s skills and he was beginning to learn that Tony had more contacts than Vance had previously realised; contacts that might not like Vance treating Tony like an unwanted barnacle.

“Vance figured out that you and Davenport had met before the op too,” Gibbs stated, echoing Tony’s thoughts.  “Davenport wasn’t subtle about his admiration for you.”

Tony hummed.  He’d known Davenport before his appointment to the office of the Secretary of the Navy.  “He’s EJ’s uncle.”

Tony had met Special Agent Erica Jane Barrett during their training to be federal law enforcement professionals.  They’d quickly become fast friends much to Gibbs’ dismay.  He’d always believed their relationship was sexual and some kind of rebound since Tony had been left at the altar just before FLETC.

“Of course he is,” Gibbs muttered.

Tony shot him a warning look.

Gibbs plastered such a blatantly false innocent expression on his face, it almost made Tony laugh.

“EJ and I are friends, Gibbs,” Tony said firmly.  “I’ve never broken rule twelve with her.”  His eyes caught on the clock and he grimaced.  “I have to get back to packing.”

“You need a hand?” asked Gibbs.

Tony shook his head and pointed at Gibbs’ injury.  “Didn’t your doctor tell you to rest that?”

“I can supervise,” Gibbs rejoined lightly.

And maybe, Tony thought, rebuilding their friendship first was how they fixed it. 

Tony gestured towards the kitchen.  “There’s leftover pasta and sauce if you haven’t eaten, Boss.”

Gibbs disappeared to forage. 

Tony headed back into his bedroom and resumed carefully adding warm sweaters to his suitcase.  England in November was cold.

He heard when Gibbs took up a leaning position against the doorjamb.  He glanced over taking in how Gibbs was balancing the plate on his injured hand and the quiet scrape of cutlery on a plate as his boss ate the remains of an early dinner meal that Tony would have thrown in the freezer if Gibbs hadn’t stopped by.

“You sure you got enough clothes, DiNozzo?” teased Gibbs.

Tony took in the packed suitcase and the two suit carriers with a frown.  He sighed as he glanced over at Gibbs.  “Actually, no.  My uncle was pretty vague about why he needs me in England, just that it’s a family emergency.”  He motioned at the luggage.  “If it was just a personal visit, I’d be set with the case,” he frowned, “but the fact that he had MI7 make a professional request at the same time?  I’m not sure if I’m going to be working.”

Gibbs frowned thoughtfully.  “Maybe pack another suit?”

Tony silently went to the wardrobe and yanked out his favourite wool Armani.  He selected a shirt, tie and handkerchief to match the deep grey, and efficiently packed it all into another carrier.  He added a toiletries bag and closed the case.  He checked to make sure his laptops and tablets were packed in his backpack.

Gibbs handed him a knife. 

Tony looked at him with a raised eyebrow. 

“Rule nine,” Gibbs stated simply.

“Covered,” Tony said dryly, thinking of the belt knife he wore, plus the one in his ankle sheath.

“Take it anyway,” Gibbs said, “you never know.”

And it was a way for Gibbs to protect him without being with him, Tony recognised.  He took the knife and carefully packed it into his backpack.

“You going to check into Ziva?” asked Tony, wondering if he needed to offer Gibbs his knife in return.

Gibbs sighed.  “You’ve requested her tech monitored?”

Tony nodded.  “IT was due to send me a file.”  He sighed.  “I figure the boyfriend she’s hiding is her Mossad contact.”

“I’ll look into it,” Gibbs promised.

Tony checked his watch.  The travel time was only minutes away.

“I’ll clean up the kitchen,” Gibbs offered.

“Thanks,” Tony said appreciatively.

“Your car in the garage?” asked Gibbs gruffly.

Tony nodded.

“You need me to feed Kate?”

Tony shook his head.  His neighbour’s boys loved Kate The Fish.  His watch beeped a reminder; his time was up. 

He stepped up to his bedroom wall and spread his hand wide, bowed his head and silently chanted the spell.

A deep orange circle shimmered into being; a portal between Tony’s apartment and the entrance hall of Paddington Manor.

Gibbs straightened as he took in the figure of Clive Paddington standing in a similar position to Tony on the other side, hand to the wall.

Tony glanced at his uncle, checking he was holding the portal.

Clive nodded briskly.

Tony hurried to pass his luggage through to the waiting butler and footmen hovering by his uncle’s side.  Gibbs helped, handing over the suit carriers.

Tony turned to Gibbs.  “I’ll call you, Boss.”

Gibbs swept him into a tight hug, surprising him as his hand rested gently against the back of Tony’s head.  “Be safe and come home, DiNozzo.”  He let him go with a light pat to his head.

Tony nodded.  “Watch your six and try not to break anything else while I’m gone, Boss.”

“I’ll be careful,” Gibbs promised.

Tony picked up his backpack and with one final look at Gibbs stepped into the portal.  It disappeared as soon as he was in England. 

Clive sagged against the wall and Tony dropped his pack to the floor to assist his uncle.

“Anthony,” Clive patted his cheek as he leaned into Tony’s side.

“I should have taken a transport,” Tony said, worriedly. 

Clive huffed. “Any non-magical transport would have taken too long to get you here.”

“Perhaps we should get Lord Paddington to his rooms to rest?” suggested a cultured English voice to the left.

Tony swiftly turned his head, his gaze raking over the tall figure stood in the shadows. 

A frisson of attraction shivered through him at the sight of the other man.  The light from the table lamps glinted off curly blond locks shorn short and aristocratic features; high cheekbones, a firm chin, a slightly large aquiline nose and a wide mouth.  Piercing blue eyes cut across the entrance hall. Whoever he was, his dark suit was impeccably tailored, the crisp white shirt still crisp despite the late hour.

“That sounds like a good idea,” Tony agreed lightly, pushing aside his attraction with practiced ease.  “And you are?”

Clive coughed.  “Agent Black, meet my nephew, Anthony.  Anthony, meet Agent Thomas Black of MI7.” 

They nodded at each other instead of shaking hands since Tony was still holding up his uncle.  Black was MI7.  Tony considered that news thoughtfully as he reassessed Black’s presence.

Clive sighed tiredly.  “I’m afraid more involved explanations will have to wait until morning.” 

“I’ll get your bags to your room, Master Anthony,” the butler stepped forward, “if you could see to Lord Paddington?  I’ll have Prescott meet you in his rooms.”

Tony nodded.  “Thank you, Branston.”

Branston, almost as elderly as his uncle, carefully waved closer two the two younger footmen and Tony dragged his attention back to his uncle.

“Come on then, Uncle Clive,” he said cheerfully, “your rooms still in the same place?”

Clive nodded. 

They made slow progress up the main stairs, Clive hanging onto the polished oak banister with one hand and Tony with the other. 

Tony was aware that Black was always a few paces behind them.  A quick glance took in the other man’s stance and Tony immediately pegged it as a protection detail.  He inwardly shook the thought away.  No doubt it was in the more complicated explanations his uncle had promised him.

It was a slow promenade down the main corridor to his uncle’s suite of rooms.  Tony wasn’t surprised to see the rotund figure of Albert Prescott, his Uncle’s long time valet hovering by the door. 

Prescott’s once coal black hair was shot through with grey; his uniform strained against his ever-growing girth, but his smile was as cheerful as ever.  “Thanks for your assistance, Master Anthony.  If you can see him through to the bed chamber.”

Tony wasn’t surprised when Black slid past him into the rooms, confirming they were empty before nodding at Tony to enter.

“This is all unnecessary,” Clive grumbled as Tony helped him through the large sitting room and into the bedroom, carefully lowering him to sit on the side of the bed.

“Portals take a lot of energy,” Tony said mildly, “I’m probably going to crash soon myself.”

Clive huffed, but his rheumy blue eyes caught Tony’s even as his hand reached out to grasp his.  “Thank you for coming, Anthony.  I needed you home.  The rest of the family will be here in the morning, and we’ll all talk then.”

Tony nodded slowly.  “Rest up, Uncle Clive.”

Clive gave him a sharply knowing look.  “Go easy on Agent Black, Anthony.  He’s been quite useful today.”

Tony simply smiled.  He squeezed Clive’s hand gently and stepped back out of the room. Prescott gave him a firm nod as he passed by.  Tony headed into the corridor. 

Black stood by the door with a stunning Asian woman who was dressed in a functional black pants suit, gun holstered to her belt.  It reminded him of the fashion his late team-mate Kate had favoured.  

“This is Agent Ling,” Black introduced her briskly.  “She’ll watch over your uncle for a while.  In the meantime, I believe it would be beneficial for us to speak, Agent DiNozzo?”

“Yes,” Tony said dryly, “we should speak and maybe you can explain to me why the Order of Pendragon is guarding my uncle.”

Chapter Text

Tony let the feel of the Manor seep into him, nostalgically remembering how he had arrived at the Paddington Manor as a frightened boy, desperately trying to pretend he wasn’t frightened.  The portal travel had been scary but cool; the imposing dark wood panelling and stuffy English décor of years past something out of a storybook.  His uncle’s hand had been steady on his shoulder and the novelty of having an adult who cared about him had kept the worst of the nerves storming his body at bay.  In the end, Paddington Manor had been everything he had ever hoped for; a home.

His suite of rooms was part of the family wing of the large house.  The small apartment was on the floor above his uncle, tucked into the eaves, cosy and all Tony’s.  A large inviting reception room provided a bulwark to the rest of the suite.  Tony had redecorated on his last visit and he felt his muscles loosen a touch as he stepped inside.

Black looked around the room with interest and Tony let him have his fill, moving instead to the decanter of fine whisky on a side table.  He didn’t bother to offer Black a drink since the agent was on duty, but he poured himself one and sipped it carefully.

Black had taken in the white piano with a flare of interest in his guarded eyes.  The piano was the only belonging of Tony’s mother Tony had.  He’d thought originally to keep it in the States with him, but something had told him this particular piano belonged in England.  Black moved on, taking in the alcoves with their inbuilt bookcases filled with worn and old tomes, precious first editions and Tony’s personal collection.  He stopped in front of the painting above the mantel; an oil portrait of a black cat asleep in the roots of an old oak tree – the oak tree at the far end of the gardens in the sacred grove to be exact.

“Interesting picture,” Black commented.  His gaze sharpened suddenly and he leaned in to peer at the signature at the bottom of the painting.  “Your mother painted this.” 

Tony took another sip of whiskey, letting the drink warm him as it burned down his throat.  “Why is the Order of Pendragon guarding my uncle?”

Black turned towards him, hands sliding into his pants’ pockets.  “Agent DiNozzo, I don’t know why you think…”

Tony sat down on one of the comfortable leather sofas framing the large fireplace and waved a hand at Black to sit on the opposite sofa.  “Agent Black,” he cut in, “let’s pretend we’ve done the dance of you denying the Order exists and I tell you that I know it does because I have worked with MI7 before which I know you know, and we circle back and forth until you just give in and tell me why the Order is protecting my uncle.”

Black’s jaw tightened, his muscle flexing almost imperceptibly in the warm lamp light that flooded the room.  He sat down, carefully unbuttoning his jacket.  “What do you know about the cult of Mordred?”

Tony cast his mind back over the intelligence reports he consumed daily as part of his job.  “They formed about five years ago with a man proclaiming to be the reincarnation of Mordred at the head.  He has a penchant for taking in adolescent wizards and witches from the street – a modern day Fagan.”  He tilted the glass in front of him towards Black.  “The last report I read stated their activity was confined to the British Isles and that MI7 had deemed them a low threat risk.”

“That was true until six months ago,” Black confirmed briskly.  “They were deemed unimportant since nobody magical believed that the individual truly was the incarnation of Mordred.”  He caught Tony’s gaze and Tony felt the same frisson of attraction that had shot through him on meeting the agent.  “A petty criminal organisation, not something to be concerned with beyond their skirmishes with the Met and Scotland Yard.”

“And now?” prompted Tony, ignoring the attraction he felt. 

“He recruited three strong witches,” Black said succinctly.  “They call themselves Mordred’s Daughters.  They’ve changed things, taken control.  Once upon a time the cult leaked like a sieve, but now?”  He shook his head.  “We’ve struggled to get good information on them and their activities for months now.”

Tony set his glass down and clasped his hands loosely in front of him.  “But something leaked enough for you to believe their plans included targeting my uncle.”  It wasn’t a question.

“Nothing leaked; our Seer received a vision of an attack on your uncle,” Black said.  “Bo only knew that it would be done in the morning and by a witch.  It was your uncle’s statement which identified the witch as one of the daughters.”

Tony held the crisp blue gaze sternly.  “You said they attacked my uncle; exactly what happened this morning?”

Black shifted, perching to sit forward on the sofa, his loosely clasped hands mirroring Tony’s.  “The witch attempted to abduct your uncle at a local café around the corner from his London office.”

Damn it.

Tony felt his heart clench tightly at the news.  He’d been prepared to hear something; the Order didn’t just protect on a whim, but that his uncle had almost been abducted…

He shook away the thought that he should have been there.  He knew logically that his presence in England probably wouldn’t have made any difference to the attempt.

There was something in Black’s voice, in his face that gave away it had been close.

He’d almost lost his uncle.

Tony didn’t have much in the way of family.  His father was a con-artist pretending to be a successful businessman who married money time and again to keep up his way of life.  Senior had happily left him with Clive and only came around when he wanted something.  The rest of his father’s family were estranged; his grandparents long dead and his uncles ensconced in their own families.

Tony’s mother had died when he was eight.  He barely remembered Camilla DiNozzo beyond the impression of soft hands through his hair, the scent of wine and her perfume, and the warmth of sitting in a crammed movie theatre with buttered popcorn and sticky soda.  His father had told him at the funeral that her parents were long dead, and she’d been brought up by her older brothers and sister, of which only Clive had come to see her buried.  

“How did she get close enough to attempt an abduction if you were meant to be watching him?” demanded Tony, returning his attention to Black.    

Black seemed to debate for a long moment whether to say anything more.  “We weren’t formally protecting your uncle at the time for all we had a watch on him.”

“You used him like a tethered goat,” Tony realised unhappily.  As much as he hated being used, he hated the idea of his uncle being used more.   

“It was the first solid lead we had on the cult, we didn’t want to risk losing it,” Black said defensively.

Tony shot him a glare. 

“Look, you know your uncle has a breakfast every morning at the café around the corner from his office?”

Tony nodded.  His uncle was a man of habit and stubbornness.

“We knew that was where it would go down and we had the place staked out; agents inside and out.”

“So what went wrong?” asked Tony, because given the Order’s presence at the manor he was certain something had.

“Your uncle took his usual table,” Black continued, a hint of reluctance in his tone, “and a young woman entered…” he looked away towards the fire.  “She was smartly dressed, in her mid-twenties, impeccably made-up.”

“You discounted her as the threat,” Tony realised.

“The agent inside had pegged the young waitress as the more likely candidate,” Black admitted.

His honest chagrin made him look even more attractive, Tony thought grumpily.

“The witch appeared to take the table behind your uncle, but it was nothing more than a clever illusion,” Black said, “he was the one who broke it.  When it shattered we saw that she had actually taken the seat across from your uncle and she was cradling her arm.  Apparently he was wearing a torc bracelet which protected him violently when she tried to grab him.”

Good, thought Tony with satisfaction.  The protection gift he had left with his uncle on his last visit had worked.

“You didn’t capture her?” asked Tony sharply.

“She teleported out as soon as we moved on her,” Black admitted. 

So much for the vaunted Order of Pendragon, Tony thought thoroughly unamused.

“You know the expression on your face is the exact same one your uncle wore when we made ourselves known to him,” Black quipped.  “I can finally see the family resemblance.”

Tony arched his eyebrow in silent response.

Black flushed, the evidence of his cheeks pinkening still clear in the low lamp light.  Tony wished it didn’t make look even more attractive.

“We made mistakes,” Black conceded, “and I won’t deny that this morning’s operation wasn’t the best example of the Order’s competence, but your uncle has now accepted our protection and we are working to identify the witch and neutralise the threat.”

Tony hummed at that concession.  A large part of him wanted to start yelling at Black for the mess that had happened, for the danger they’d allowed close to his uncle.  Black, thought Tony dryly, should be grateful Tony wasn’t Gibbs. 

He cleared his throat.  “You said my uncle gave a statement.”

“Yes,” Black seemed momentarily disconcerted (possibly he’d anticipated yelling), but he recovered quickly.  “He said she’d sat down opposite him and introduced herself as Valerie.  She said they’d potioned his tea already to render his magic mute – he confirmed his magic was affected – and then she said he should go with her without a protest as they didn’t want to hurt him; they just wanted to know what he knew.”

“And what’s that?” asked Tony, his mind racing over all the magic and knowledge his uncle knew.

“The secret to finding Avalon,” Black stated.

The secret to finding Avalon.

Right.

Tony picked up the whiskey and downed it, aware that Black’s eyes remained on him cataloguing his reaction.

“He warned her that she wasn’t going to get what she wanted and when she went to grab him, as I said his bracelet…” Black frowned suddenly.  “He said the bracelet was a gift from you.”

“Yes,” Tony nodded.  “I gifted it to him on his last birthday.”

Black kept his gaze on him.  “Why?”  He gestured.  “Your uncle is the Grand Wizard, he’s more than capable of magically protecting himself.”

“And yet the witch neutralised his magic and almost abducted him,” Tony pointed out dryly.  He shrugged lightly.  “My uncle is very capable, he’s the Grand Wizard, but I figured at his age having a little extra protection wasn’t a bad thing.”

There was a beat of silence between them.

“Your uncle wanted you completely read in,” Black said evenly. “The Director has agreed.”

“But the Order operates within its own bounds,” Tony countered, “so you could have refused.”

“I was going to,” Black admitted, “but then I read your MI7 file.”

Tony’s eyebrows rose in mute query why that had made a difference.

“You’ve worked with the service before on international matters,” Black stated.  “You have letters of commendation from respected veteran members and the Director himself.”

“I’m the nephew of the Grand Wizard, in law enforcement in the States, and I have magic in my own right,” Tony said, providing the reasons Black was fishing to find.  “They’ve found it useful to have such a connection a few times.”

“MI7 has tried to recruit you permanently since the completion of your first mission with them,” Black said.  “You’re clearly an asset to a mission and I would be foolish to dismiss that.”  He held Tony’s gaze.  “Are you willing to work with us?”

Tony considered the question seriously.  Was he willing?  His head was filled with all the reminders of why he was tired at working with anyone and the image of his uncle sat in the café while the Order simply looked on was vivid.

“The Order has twelve agents usually, correct?” Tony checked.  The number of knights under the Pendragon banner had numbered into the hundreds but Arthur had fielded them under the command of twelve Knights of the Round Table.

“Yes,” Black confirmed.  “We usually operate as two teams of six.”  He paused.  “Our team is currently one down; we lost Agent Baku in August and we have yet to find someone to replace her.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Tony said sincerely.  His grief at losing Kate sometimes seemed as fresh as the day Ari had killed her. 

Black accepted the condolences with a brief nod, something else flickering in his eyes which made Tony wonder about the nature of the relationship Black had shared with her which made him remember something else he’d read about the Order.

“You rotate the lead too, right?” Tony checked.

Black nodded.  “Whoever is the best choice for the specific mission takes lead.”   

“And you’re lead for this,” Tony stated.

Black nodded again. 

Tony wanted to push at why, to find out more.  His natural curiosity combined with his desire to keep his uncle safe rose up in need of more.  A quick look at Black told Tony it wasn’t time to press for it.

Black looked tired.  He was hiding it well, but the shadow of weariness had worn against the impeccable posture just enough that Tony could tell Black was holding up with willpower.

“I’m prepared to assist you,” Tony allowed. 

Black’s expression flickered a touch at the wording.  For a second it looked like he was going to argue, but he clearly hauled himself back. 

Maybe Black had realised his own tiredness and how it might not be the time to tackle sensitive discussions, Tony mused.

Tony cleared his throat intending to begin ushering Black out of his rooms.  He wanted another whiskey, to get out of his head for a while with a movie or a good book, and his bed…

A fleeting image of Black tossed against the sheets flitted into Tony’s mind and he forced the image out.  He was going to be working with Black, it wasn’t appropriate to imagine him in his bed, or naked, or…

Rule twelve, Tony reminded himself.  He might not agree with all of Gibbs’ rules, but he did agree that falling into bed with a co-worker was not a good idea.  It was one of the reasons he’d never given into Ziva’s little seduction games, regardless of the fact that she was a very attractive woman.

“What can you tell me about the rest of your family?” asked Black, jerking Tony’s attention back to him.

Black seemed to have rallied, pulling his professionalism around him like a cloak.  Tony empathised; he’d had to do it plenty of times himself on the job with how Gibbs ran them.

“Why do you want to know?” deflected Tony, wondering a little at the question.

“Your uncle was adamant that your entire family had to know of this threat,” Black said.

His uncle had said the family were arriving in the morning – well, later that morning since the clock had ticked over from midnight while Tony had talked to Black.

Tony sighed.  “My Uncle Casper and his husband, James, live in Oxford.”

“Your uncle has magic?” questioned Black.

“Some,” Tony said, “but he’s a rebel and didn’t want to follow the family tradition into the Mage service.”  He kept his tone even giving away nothing of his own relationship, or rather non-relationship with his uncle.  “He met James at university, it was love at first sight, and they’ve been together since.  They both teach at the Oxford College of Magic.”  In comparison to Casper, James had always treated Tony fondly.

“My Aunt Caroline and her husband died two years ago in a car crash,” Tony continued briskly, revealing nothing of the scorn he’d endured from both.  “Her son, Crispian is an established Mage General in the British Army.  He’s married to Charlotte, Lottie.  She’s a successful Doctor.  They have one son; Christopher.  He seems to be following Casper’s example; he’s a post-grad student at Oxford.”

Black shifted on the sofa.  “I should probably disclose that I know Crispian.”

Tony tilted his head at Black.  “College?”

“Yes,” Black said dryly, “although we ran in very different circles back then.”  He pressed his lips together.  “He’s been involved in a few of our operations.  It’s highly rumoured that he’ll be the next Grand Wizard.”

“It’s certainly possible,” Tony agreed evenly.

“You don’t believe that he will be?” questioned Black a little hesitantly.

Tony shrugged. “Crispian is the legal heir to the Paddington Estate, but the position of the Grand Wizard is not one of inheritance; Magic herself will choose the successor.”

Black regarded Tony intently for a long moment.  Tony figured he was trying to see if Tony had issues with Crispian’s position or maybe if Tony imagined himself as the future Grand Wizard. 

Tony really didn’t. 

For all Crispian guarded his position as heir like a dragon guarding its hoard, Tony had always known there was no chance of a different outcome.  His uncle had always been very clear that about the Paddington inheritance rules and had made it equally clear to Tony’s father just in case Senior got any ideas.  Tony wasn’t going to deny the lifestyle and the wealth were very nice, but he’d inherited a trust fund from his mother when he’d turned twenty-one and it was more than sufficient for his own needs.

As for the Grand Wizard…there hadn’t been one chosen by magic who wasn’t British.  He figured it was highly unlikely that he was going to end up taking Clive’s place.  And besides, Tony thought seriously, he’d rather have his Uncle Clive alive and well than a position and a title which would cause nothing but havoc in his life.

“I should leave you to rest,” Black said suddenly, rising to his feet. 

Tony got to his.  “Can you send me any information you have?  I’ll look through it before I sleep – I’m still on East coast time.”

“I’ll arrange it,” Black said.  “I look forward to working with you, Agent DiNozzo.”  He stuck his hand out.

Tony grasped his hand, electricity skating across their skin as they made contact.  He let go.  “Call me Tony.”

“Call me Tom,” Black offered with a tired smile.  “Sleep well, Tony.”  He walked out before Tony could say anything further.

Tony pushed his hands through his hair, ruffling the careful styling into disarray.  His phone beeped. 

‘Locked up your apartment.  All OK?’

Tony smiled at the text – not so much at the content but that Gibbs with his broken finger had made the effort to do something he hated doing.  He pressed the call button.

“What’s wrong?” Gibbs answered.

“I need all our intel on the cult of Mordred,” Tony replied. 

“That’s the weird British guy, right?” Gibbs muttered.  “I thought they were small fish.”

“Looks like they’ve grown,” Tony said.  “They made a grab for my uncle today.”

Gibbs hummed.  “You taking them down?”

“You know it,” Tony stated crisply.

“I’ll get McGee to email you everything we have,” Gibbs said. 

“Tell him it’s need to know only,” Tony said, wanting to make sure the information was contained, but he also knew it would give McGee a confidence boost that Gibbs and Tony were trusting him.  He was certain he wasn’t the only one who’d felt the sting of not being in the know about Gibbs’ plan.

“You need back-up?”

A cat’s meow sounded through the room before Tony could reply. 

Tony turned his head to look at the large black cat padding his way across the room and frowned.  He glanced at the closed door to the corridor, but realised belatedly that the door which led to the rest of the rooms he occupied was open.  The cat must have got in when the footmen left his bags, Tony mused.  He’d had no idea that his uncle had gotten a cat and the black beast looked as though it had seen better days.

Tony shook his head belatedly remembering Gibbs’ question.  “I’m good here for now.”

“A cat isn’t back-up, DiNozzo,” Gibbs pointed out wryly. 

“What about the Order of the Pendragon?”

“I think the cat’s probably better back-up,” Gibbs quipped.  “Call if you need me.”

Tony wasn’t surprised when Gibbs cut the call immediately after.  Gibbs and phone etiquette were not friends.

The cat rubbed his head over Tony’s knee and Tony crouched down to pet the cat tentatively.  “Can’t say I’m used to cats.  I have a pet fish called Kate?”

The cat purred as Tony scratched his eyes and gazed intently at Tony with bright green eyes. 

Tony smiled.  “But I could definitely use the back-up.” 

He got up, stretched and checked his watch.  He grimaced.  His portal lag was going to be bad, but…he headed for his bedroom and his laptop.  If he was going to take down the cult of Mordred, he needed to get to work.

Chapter Text

Cadoc followed the interesting mage named Tony from the warm den through the cold corridor to the sleeping room with the large bed.

He’d woken that morning, magic stirring him from his sleep once more as it sometimes did. 

It had been centuries since Nimue, the youngest of Mab’s daughters, had tricked Myrddin into an endless sleep, trapped in the embrace of an oak tree.  Cadoc had been beside his chosen and Myrddin had thought she was sending him to his death.  He’d done something in their last moments battling her to allow Cadoc to wake on a branch of the tree and live occasionally – usually when there was a threat to Albion.  Cadoc would lend his magic to a wizard or witch who fought in defence of the realm.

Most of the time he helped someone in Nimue’s own line.  The wood Fae had married a warrior named Padda and they’d established a strong magical family.  Surprisingly, Nimue’s family had become guardians of Myrddin’s legacy.  It made Cadoc wonder at whether she’d ever intended Myrddin harm.  Myrddin’s own vision had seen him die yet he still lived even if it was in the embrace of the oak tree. 

Nimue’s family had built a keep near to the tree, built walls to safeguard the forest. Nimue was gone when Cadoc had first woken, but he’d helped her granddaughter Gwyn magically repel a mob wishing to burn her and the Keep while Gwyn’s son had wielded Excalibur.

In time, Nimue’s line were known as Paddington.  The old Keep was gone – nothing more than stones at the far end of the Estate near the wood.  A new manor house had been raised.  Cadoc had been awake during the First World War when it had been turned into a nursing home for wounded soldiers.  He’d been awake in the Second World War, shadowing Clive’s father as they protected the land from bombs and the sea from invaders.  Clive had been a young boy of barely five years of age when Cadoc had retreated to Myrrdin’s tree to sleep again.  He’d woken again twenty years later to find Clive the new Grand Wizard facing a witch intending to blow up the Manor.  That had been his last awakening.

He jumped up on the bed as Tony began to unpack his belongings, humming a song under his breath.

Cadoc wondered at the tune.  He liked music, but it had changed a great deal over the many years Cadoc had lived.  He knew more decades had passed since the last time he had woken thanks to the aged face of Clive Paddington.

He began grooming as Tony left the room, the sound of running water giving away his relocation to the bathroom, allowing his mind to slip back to earlier in the day when the Grand Wizard had returned to the manor and found Cadoc waiting for him in his study. 

“I am pleased to see you, Friend Cadoc,” Clive had said, “and yet, I so wish events were not serious enough to disturb your sleep.” 

Cadoc kneaded the cosy comforter before settling in.  His decision to stalk Clive’s favoured nephew on his arrival had been a good one.  He’d heard all of the discussion between Tony and the descendant of Bedwyr and Guinevere, and it had been most revealing.

The cult of Mordred.

Cadoc sneezed and shook his fur out, resettling his paws under his body.  Somewhere in the suite of rooms, there was coffee brewing.

Whomever was calling themselves Mordred was unlikely to be the same sullen boy who’d wanted Arthur’s crown; Cadoc remembered very clearly how Excalibur had flashed through the air to take Mordred’s head a moment after Mordred had made his fatal blow to Arthur’s leg.

It was also unlikely to be a true reincarnation; those were very rare and usually only achieved in ritual.  Not to mention, Cadoc mused, that the ritual needed the predeceased to have had a whole body at death and Mordred had definitely been absent an important body part.

The Mordred Cadoc had known had failed to spawn thankfully due to a malformed cock.  Whoever these witches were, they were not direct descendants of Mordred.  Maybe Morgana?  She and Lot had seven daughters before she’d birthed Mordred, and Lot had never argued that Mordred was Arthur’s bastard son.

Tony placed a steaming mug of coffee on the bedside table and shuffled onto the bed, lying with a thin machine on his lap.  Cadoc knew it to be a computer from his explorations that afternoon and his observing of the Order of Pendragon as they’d set up surveillance and their protective watch at the manor.   

“Good,” muttered Tony, “Black sent everything.”  He started to tap away, his eyes intent on the top part of the computer which Cadoc knew would display information.

Tony felt like Fae magic.

He smelled clean under a hint of an expense cologne; earthy tinged with guns and oil, but below that…there was a hint of Paddington but also something much brighter.  Like the fresh scent of the lake on a summer’s day and metal forged in a hot fire.       

Cadoc gazed thoughtfully at the reclining figure beside him who picked up a buzzing device which apparently was some kind of telephone.  Technology was catching up to magic quicker than ever.

Or maybe mages had just lacked the imagination of their fully human counterparts.

America.

Cadoc settled his gaze at half-mast as he mused on just how bigger the realm of men was from the knowledge of the world known when Myrddin had walked the earth.  He liked the accent, Cadoc decided as he listened to Tony talk to someone he called McCurious, only to then call him McConfidential.  He seemed very fond of whoever it was and Cadoc quickly surmised the person on the other side of the call was helping to find out about the cult from Tony’s own sources.

Good.

He was wise as well as able.  His questions to the Knight had been intelligent and he had controlled his anger over the danger the Order of Pendragon had placed his uncle in with care.

Cadoc had chosen well. 

Well, despite the declaration that he had a fish.

Fish were only good for eating; every cat knew that.

Chapter Text

The blare of an alarm from his phone had Tom Black awake and stabbing the stop icon without looking at it.

The silence made him sigh out loud.

He turned over in the bed, covers lodging at his hips as he rubbed his face with both hands in the futile hope to rub some of the tiredness that dogged him away.

The operation to take one of Mordred’s daughters into custody had been a disaster and as the lead he took full responsibility.

Even if it was Scott’s fault for getting tunnel vision about the waitress.

Tom blew out a breath and dropped his hands from his face.  He threw back the duvet and sat for a moment at the edge of the bed, stretching to loosen some of the aches which had settled into his spine from sleeping in an unknown bed.

It had been good of the Grand Wizard to offer them accommodation, Tom mused.  It had been good of him to acquiesce to having the Order involved at all given they’d almost allowed him to be abducted from under their noses.

Scott had apologised for his screw-up, Tom reminded himself.  They’d all been off since they’d lost Reya.  She’d been Tom’s best friend, but she’d been Scott’s fiancée. 

Maybe Scott needed a leave of absence.

Maybe he needed a leave of absence.

Or maybe they needed to fill the empty spot in their team and begin the process of moving on. 

His mind flitted to the very attractive American agent asleep at the other end of the house.  DiNozzo was everything his file had promised he would be.  Smart, focused, and insanely pretty.  Attraction skated over Tom’s skin leaving goosebumps and an ache of want behind.

Tom glanced at the time and stood up. 

He pushed all thoughts of the operation, the team and DiNozzo from his mind as he went through a few katas to warm up his muscles before flowing into his usual yoga routine.  He finished with his usual calisthenics routine and by the time he’d finished, there was a fine sheen of sweat across his skin.

He downed the water by his bed and headed for the bathroom to shower and get ready.  Pulling on his suit was like pulling on armour.  Tom felt his confidence settle as he pinned on the small Pendragon badge.

He opened his bedroom door and walked out into the large reception room in the guest suite the Order was occupying.

One of the bedroom doors was closed; Kelly’s watch would have ended an hour before, Tom determined, his gaze sweeping over the rest of the occupants.  Will was missing which meant he’d taken over, not Scott as scheduled.

Tom’s gaze narrowed on Scott hunched over the laptop on the table by the large picture window, his blond hair catching the weak early morning sunlight.  Bo sat across from their team-mate, her black dreadlocks tied back into a classy chignon.  She was focused on her tablet, but there was evidence of a breakfast beside her.

Tom spotted the trolley of food parked close-by and headed over to it.  He was pleased at the selection of pastries, but more importantly the tea.  He poured himself a cup, snagged a still warm croissant and headed to the table.

For a second, the view caught his attention.

The forest was naked of leaves, branches reaching up to the winter sky like benevolent worshippers.  Light streamed across the scene, a red tint on the horizon.

“Red sky in the morning, flower,” said Bo in her thick Northern accent without looking up from her tablet.  “Weather’s set to be freezing and wet.”

“Joy,” Tom stated.  “What’s been happening?”

“Paddington just got up,” Scott said, his deep voice was almost accentless in contrast to Bo, even though Tom knew he’d been raised in Wales.  “The Oxford lot are due to portal in an hour and Crispian Paddington and his wife should arrive by car around the same time.  DiNozzo hasn’t stirred yet and his electronics are quiet.”

“Do you think the Grand Wizard really knows the secret of how to get to Avalon?” asked Bo bluntly.

Scott snorted.  “It’s one of many conspiracy theories.”

“The Paddington family has held the position of Grand Wizard since 1840 when Queen Victoria created it,” Tom said, sipping his tea.  “Arguably they held status as the most magically powerful family in Britain for years before that.  I’m sure they know a number of secrets.  Whether they know this specific one?” He tilted his head.  “I prefer to wonder why the witch thinks the Grand Wizard knows.”

“You think that’s why he’s called them all back rather than for protection?” Scott realised.  “You think he’s going to gather them all together in the library and claim Mrs White killed someone in the kitchen with the cleaver.”

“I would have gone for Colonel Mustard in the bedroom with the candlestick,” Tom quipped, “but yes; that’s what I think.”

“It’s not DiNozzo,” Bo said with enough certainty that both Tom and Scott stared at her.  She raised her black eyes to meet theirs.  “He called everybody else back because he thinks one of them leaked; he called DiNozzo back because he trusts him.”

“He’s in the States,” Scott theorised, “it’s a pretty solid alibi.  Makes sense.”

Bo rolled her eyes.  “No,” she countered, “Clive Paddington trusts DiNozzo on a personal level.  He knows that he would never leak the information.”

The problem with Seers, Tom considered irritated, was that they could be so certain without proof. 

“We don’t know that he didn’t,” Scott argued.

“I don’t think he did,” Tom admitted.

“How did your chat with the very pretty American agent go?” Bo asked, picking up her cup and making a wince at the coldness of her tea.

“He’s agreed to assist,” Tom said, ignoring her jibe about Tony’s attractiveness, even if Tom was very attracted – Bo was not wrong after all, Tony DiNozzo was a very pretty man.  “We’re working the details out this morning.”

“We should probably eliminate him from the investigation first,” Scott pointed out dryly.  “I mean, beyond Bo’s feeling or innate knowledge.”

“Will did a full check yesterday while you were on guard duty, Scotty-boy,” Bo countered.  “Email or phone, DiNozzo’s only contact with anyone in the UK for the last twelve months has been his uncle.”

Tom frowned.  Given the little Tony had revealed about the family the night before and that news he was betting the American agent’s relationship with the rest of the Paddingtons wasn’t close.  That didn’t surprise him; Crispian had always been an entitled prick.

“He was genuinely surprised yesterday,” Tom added belatedly as he caught up with Bo and Scott’s debate.  “I don’t think he set up his uncle; he’s very fond of him.” 

“He’s an undercover expert,” Scott said.

Tom accepted that with a brief declination of his head.  “Perhaps, but I don’t think so.  He was the one who gifted his uncle the bracelet.  If he’d truly been part of the other side yesterday…”

“…he would have alerted them to the possibility of getting their arm broken,” Scott sighed.  “Still not enough evidence.”

“Enough for me to allow him onto the case,” Tom stated firmly.  He determinedly didn’t think about how the thought of spending more time with Tony pleased him.

Scott conceded, raising his cup in a toast before heading to the teapot for a refill. 

Tom glanced at his watch and swallowed down the last of his tea.  He focused on the case; the sooner they found the witch, the sooner they could close it and keep the Grand Wizard safe.  “So, what else do we have?”

Chapter Text

“I see you have a new shadow,” Clive smiled as Tony skipped down the last few stairs to the hallway.

Tony turned just in time for the cat to sit neatly at his side.  He waggled his eyebrows at his uncle.  “Your cat has been dogging my heels.”

Clive’s eyebrows rose as a smile twitched at his lips.  “I’m afraid Cadoc is not mine,” he gestured at the imperious looking feline, “rather he is free as a bird.”

A snicker came from the corner where Tom had lurked the night before.  Tony glanced over to check and wasn’t surprised to find a different agent there – Tom hadn’t struck him as the kind to snicker.

“Hey,” Tony greeted him.

“I’m Will,” the dark-skinned young agent stepped forward to shake Tony’s hand with a friendly smile.  “Tom said you’d be working with us, Agent DiNozzo.”

“It’s Tony,” Tony said cheerfully, “and yes, although we’re to work out the details yet.”

Clive harrumphed beside him, but he could see that his uncle was pleased by the news.

“So,” Tony said, turning back to his uncle properly, “this isn’t your cat?”

“Cadoc is very much a free agent,” Clive repeated, “even more so than most felines.”  He pinned Tony with an amused gaze.  “Speaking of animals, who’s the rat who told you I was going to cast the portal?  Is it Branston?”

The elderly butler startled in a huff.

“Prescott,” Tony said brightly.

“Ah,” Clive gestured at his butler, “my apologies, Branston.”

“I accept, my Lord,” Branston said, still looking completely affronted.

Clive leaned into speak to Tony in a low voice.  “He’s going to sulk for days.”

Tony covered his laugh with a short cough. 

“I can manage a portal to Oxford,” Clive complained loudly, “I’m not that old or infirm.”

Tony held his hands up as a gesture of surrender.  “I would never suggest either thing, Uncle Clive, but as I’m here, why not put me to use?”

Clive shot him a scouring look.  “You look as though you’ve not slept a wink.”

“I was working,” Tony shrugged.  “Detective Inspector Uppity had some interesting insights on this Mordred character.”

Will have a small cry of interest behind him at that news.

“I think you mean Inspector Upton, Anthony,” Clive corrected him, his voice rich with laughter.

“I know what I meant,” Tony said cheekily. 

The grandfather clock started chiming.

“Well, if we’re making use of you…” Clive gestured at the wall. 

Tony stepped up and placed his hand to the wall, chanted the spell silently without even really thinking about it.  He felt the portal form, the orange glow expanding.  The connection was strong, solid.  Whoever was holding the portal on the other side had power to burn.  The portal solidified.

Tony looked up.

Casper stood right in front of the portal, a bag in one hand and a rolling suitcase in the other.  He wore casual clothing – white pants, a long button-up shirt in a pale blue, a cashmere scarf.  He stepped through without giving Tony a glance and made straight for Clive. 

“We need to speak, brother,” Casper said brusquely.

“My study is where it’s always been,” Clive said mildly. 

Casper dumped his bag and suitcase with Branston and made off down the corridor, not even waiting for his husband who was escorting a very pretty twenty-something woman into the manor.

“Clive!” James exclaimed jovially.  “It’s so lovely to see you again!”  He gestured at the redhead next to him.  “This is Beth, Christopher’s lady love.”

Christopher was holding the portal in Oxford.  Tony caught his warm brown eyes and nodded that he had the portal to allow his cousin to traverse it.  Chris didn’t waste any time.  He snatched up his duffle bag and suitcase with ease before walking quickly across.

Tony let the portal fall and turned to greet his family members, rolling his shoulder which had been aching all morning.  He must have slept on it funny, Tony mused. 

“Tony!” James caught him up in a tight hug before Tony could move or protest. 

Tony patted James’ back and James stepped back as he looked him over fondly. 

“I swear you get more handsome every year,” James proclaimed brightly.  “You’re aging like fine wine.”

“Move aside, Uncle,” Chris complained, “some of us haven’t greeted him yet.”

James sighed dramatically and ushered Chris forward.  Tony accepted the firm hug from his cousin with a familial fondness for the younger man. 

“It’s good to see you, Tony,” Chris said quietly.

And Chris had definitely grown out of the gangly young man Tony had seen on his last visit and into a man confident in his own skin.  Chris’ dark brown curls were styled in a short cut with cowlicks falling forward over his brow; he had a dark beard neatly trimmed which added gravitas to his delicate features.  He’d dressed simply in a grey turtleneck and deep blue jeans, but they showed off a trim muscled physique underneath.  His looks and fashion sense were all his mother’s, Tony mused.  Lottie was a stunningly beautiful brunette whereas Crispian was blond haired and blue-eyed, much like his late father, Tony’s Uncle Edgar.   

He liked Chris.  He was a quiet scholarly figure, interested in books more than sports, and he had never treated Tony as anything other than family even if they weren’t close.  But then Tony had lived in England during most of Chris’ childhood.  Maybe some of the distance between them was just that, Tony considered for the first time; geographical distance because Tony lived in the States and Chris’ life was in England.  Maybe if he’d made an effort to reach out…

He shook the thought away. 

What ifs and maybes…

He could do better in the future, Tony determined.

Chris was already stepping away and reaching for the hovering young woman behind him.  He grasped her hand and pulled her forward.  “This is Beth Cotton.”

Tony shook hands with the blushing young woman, taking in the shy smile among a face full of freckles and wide grey eyes.  Her red hair was bound back into a ponytail which could barely contain the cascade of what seemed like natural ringlet curls.  Tony could see why Chris looked upon her with an awed ‘I can’t believe she’s with me’ expression even if he had the looks to compliment hers.

“Beth’s one of Casper’s post-grad students,” Chris explained.  “We met last year and, well…” he rubbed a thumb across the knuckles of the hand he held in his, “we’ve been together ever since.”

“Pleased to meet you, Beth,” Tony said, hiding his suspicion behind his smile.  He caught Will with his phone in his hand, out of the corner of his eye; it seemed Will was on the ball and hopefully requesting a background check on the girl.

“I’m really sorry to intrude like this…” Beth began.

“You’re not intruding!” Chris cut in.  “You know it makes no sense for you to stay in Oxford alone when the plans are for us to be spending Christmas together anyway.”

Tony could almost see the cartoon heart-eyes instead of Chris’ brown as he looked at his girlfriend, although it seemed from the expression on Beth’s face that his affection was returned. 

“Absolutely!” James concurred.  “You don’t mind, do you, Clive?”

“Not at all,” Clive assured her diplomatically with a fake smile of his own which made Tony amused to see it.  “But there may be some family business where I’m sure you’ll understand if you are not invited to attend.”

Chris looked as though he was about to argue, Tony shot him a warning look and he subsided.

“Of course not,” Beth agreed easily enough.  “I can spend the time working on my dissertation.”

“Excellent,” Clive said, “and now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d better track down that brother of mine.  Branston will see you safely settled.”  He pointed at Chris.  “Your parents are due to arrive at ten.”  He headed down the corridor, Will at his heels.

Tony jumped in to excuse himself, easily side-stepping James’ invite to catch-up as he unpacked with an assurance they’d grab tea together later.  He made a quick stop at his own rooms for his laptop before heading to the other side of the manor where he’d been told the Order had been provided with a guest suite.

Black – Tom answered the door.  He’d dressed simply in a fresh suit and looked good.  Tony was pleased when Tom’s eyes discreetly raked over Tony in return with obvious appreciation. He smoothed a hand down the dark green cashmere sweater he’d teamed with the pants of his grey Armani suit.

“Here to work out the details of working with us?” asked Tom with a teasing note in his voice.

“And to share some info,” Tony replied, holding up his laptop.

Tom opened the door wider, ushering Tony into the large reception room.  The cat followed him in.

“You seem to have acquired a friend,” Tom stated bemused.

“Cadoc’s my back-up,” Tony said easily with another grin. 

Cadoc flicked an ear at him and headed for the window-seat where he stared out at the wood. 

Tom introduced Tony to the dark-skinned woman, Agent Bo Kingsley, sitting at the table working before indicating for Tony to take the seat opposite.  He focused on setting up his laptop.

Tom handed Tony a tablet as another agent entered from the inner door.  “Tony, this is Scott David.”

Scott was a blond haired, blue-eyed Adonis.  He reminded Tony of Stan Burley as he shook hands with him.  “Nice to meet you.”

Tony wondered whether all the agents assigned to the Order had to be preternaturally attractive.

Tom gestured at the tablet as he sat down.  “You’ll find the contract we’ve prepared as the open document.  It should open with your thumbprint which MI7 had on file.”

Tony reviewed the document briefly.  It was a standard consultancy arrangement.  “I’ll need to adjust the information sharing clause to exclude any personal family business where the Grand Wizard has not given permission for it shared.”  He didn’t need to look up himself to know they’d exchanged a look at that.

“Of course,” Tom murmured, “although as one avenue of investigation has a potential family secret at its heart that may be very limiting.”

“You mean why the cult is so fixated on finding the path to Avalon,” Tony determined, making the changes to the text easily and signing off on it.  “That assumes the secret of the knowledge is within the family.”

“Isn’t it?” asked Scott bluntly.

Tony shrugged.  “I have no idea.  It may be something that the Grand Wizard knows, but it’s not something we’ve ever discussed at a family Sunday lunch.”

Cadoc meowed loudly as though in agreement, his green gaze on the blond agent.

Bo frowned at the cat.  “Are you sure that the cat isn’t a shape-shifter?”

“He has his own magic,” Tony stated, “but it’s a familiar kind of thing, not shape-shifting.”

“You can tell?” asked Scott, taking the remaining seat at the table.

“Any mage can identify a familiar,” Tony answered, logging back into his own computer.

“I’m entirely non-magical,” Scott said with an air of confession.

“Me too,” Tom said.  “Most of us are in the Order.”

Bo shrugged as Tony’s gaze landed on her inquiringly.  “Seer, premonitions.  Sometimes helpful, sometimes not.”

“You’re the one who had the vision about my uncle’s abduction,” Tony realised.

“That was me,” Bo said.

“Thank you,” Tony said, “without your gift she may have succeeded.”

Scott cleared his throat.  “I should apologise for focusing on the waitress.  It was my mistake which led to us almost losing your uncle.”

“You weren’t entirely wrong though,” Tony countered.  “The early video surveillance showed the waitress was the one who doctored the drink.”

Scott gave a nod of acknowledgement and everyone seemed to relax, the tension drifting out of the room.

“Yes,” Tom said, drawing Tony’s attention back to him, “we realised the same after an examination of the footage.  We have MI7 agents tracking down her whereabouts since she did give us a name and address after the incident.” 

Tony figured she was long gone.

Tom gestured at Bo.  “Why don’t we share what we have discovered?”

Tony nodded.  His information could wait until he’d established what they had already found out. 

Bo opened her tablet and handed it to Tony.  “Two witches were involved with the operation that morning, we’ve ruled out any involvement of anyone else in the café or associated with the café.”

“The waitress gave her name as Mary Tunstall, her address was listed as a flat-share in Brixton,” Scott continued.  “A background check revealed a Mary Tunstall died last year; the identity has clearly been stolen.  She’d worked for the café for three weeks.  We have police officers doing a raid on the flat this morning.  We have face recognition software examining social media and online sites for any matching.”

“The witch who made the move wore a designer wool dress,” Bo said, “Alia Makow only sells to the uber-wealthy.  We’re in the process of obtaining her customer records.”

“Although she introduced herself as Valerie, we don’t expect that to be her real name,” Scott jumped in.  “A fingerprint search of criminal databases has come up empty; we’re running facial recognition on her too, but no hits yet.”

“Not everyone has given in to creating a MySpace or Facebook page,” Tom noted dryly.

Tony nodded.  He kept his own online presence to a minimum because of his undercover work – not that he intended to do much more after the debacle with Jeanne.

“She took her handbag when she teleported so we lost any information there,” Bo grimaced.  “CCTV shows her teleporting into the alley by the café so we can’t track her back with to a location or via travel that way.”

“What about you?  What observations did you make?” asked Tom suddenly, a hint of challenge in his gaze.

Tony arched an eyebrow, picking up his coffee.  “Mary is called Mary,” he said, “she responds immediately when the other server calls her that – no hesitation at all.  Her surname is likely the only thing she changed.  She’s using the pink hair to disguise herself, she likely had that home coloured, they couldn’t take the risk of a professional salon.”

“Agreed, flower,” Bo said, “but tracking down home colour purchases would be like finding a needle in a haystack.”

“She’s also used to waitressing; she’s done it before,” Tony said.  “It wouldn’t surprise me if one of her references for the café was fudged to include the name of somewhere she has worked but tweaked.”

Bo hummed and started to tap out notes on her tablet.

“I would guess Valerie is made up,” Tony said, “but the wealth is not.  She has a name beginning with ‘V.’”  He was almost certain of that given his investigations.  “Neither of them is used to undercover; their body-language, gestures, actions – they’re nervous for the most part and they don’t do a very good job of hiding that they know each other.  Valerie calls her Mary and she’s not wearing a name-badge.”

Tom frowned.  “Scott, prioritise facial recognition searches to girls named Mary or names beginning with ‘V.’” 

Scott nodded.  “On it.”

Tom lifted his tea-cup in Tony’s direction.  “Any other observations?”

“Not about the café,” Tony shook his head, taking another gulp of coffee.  “I went through the reports on Mordred.”

Tom leaned forward, elbows resting on the table.  “Us too.  Based on a photo of Mordred taken by MI6 four years ago, we’ve identified him as Basil Chelmsford the Third.”

Bo tapped something and a picture appeared on Tony’s laptop.  Basil looked like the classic upper-class Englishman.  A floofy haircut, slightly bashful smile, wide-eyes which stared down the camera of the police photo shot of him at the time of an arrest.

“Basil is in the criminal database,” Tom said dryly.  “Minor misdemeanours, possession of drugs, that kind of thing.  He received two suspended sentences on the basis of him entering rehabilitation programmes.”

“Chelmsford attended Eton, dropped out of the Cambridge Academy of Magic before he completed his studying,” Scott listed off dispassionately.  “His listed address on the electoral register is in Westminster; the house is owned by his mother, Lady Annabelle Chelmsford; his father is deceased.”

“Basil likes drugs,” Bo said, disgust edging her words.  “During his younger years he dated a lot of models and was often pictured by the paparazzi.”

“Five years ago he began to call himself Mordred, moved out of his mother’s house to squat in a large abandoned house in Notting Hill,” Tom continued.  “He befriended homeless teenagers living rough, gave them a place to stay in exchange for petty crimes – pickpocketing, thievery, soft drug-dealing mainly.  He was arrested and let go multiple times by the police.”

“The squat was raided, but it’s been cleaned,” Bo said.  “The Met was able to get hold of two of his former housemates.  They claim Basil, Mordred, disappeared just over a year ago; that the night before he’d had a call from a girl and left saying he’d be back for tea; he never returned.”

“His mother reported him missing to the police six months ago,” Tom added.  “She claimed he was sick.”

“His former housemates did note that his magic in their words ‘had been glitchy,’” Bo said.

Tony nodded, anticipation building as he prepared to drop a bomb on them.  “He’s currently in a magic hospice in Edinburgh.”

All three agents stared at him.

“Sometimes having the Grand Wizard as your uncle is handy,” Tony said brightly.  “I talked to someone at the Met who did the last arrest and she mentioned that they’d determined he was ill.  There are only a few places in the UK he could have turned to for help.”  He tapped send on the email he’d prepared earlier.  “He’s registered as Basil Harrow at the hospice.”

“Harrow is his mother’s maiden name,” Bo said, still staring at Tony.

“I couldn’t get to his medical records,” Tony said, “I’ve reached out to a friend to try to find out what he can once he’s awake…”

“We can get a court order for them to be released to us,” Tom assured him.

Tony had no doubt that was true, but he trusted that Ducky would probably get the information faster.  “If his magic is sick and he hasn’t been able to find cure, it explains why they are focused on finding Avalon.” 

Tom raised an eyebrow. 

“There is a conspiracy theory that only Avalon can cure magical poisoning,” Scott supplied before Tony could speak.

Tony raised his hand in a ‘there you go’ gesture.  “Again, nobody knows if that’s accurate, but all tales of Arthur’s demise have Merlin taking him to Avalon to be cured of his poisoning by Mordred’s blade.”

“So, our witches think Basil Chelmsford can be saved by getting him to Avalon,” Tom summarised.

“Which begs the question, why are they so invested in Basil’s recovery?” Tony posed the question already knowing the answer.  “None of his criminal element would be able to afford the fees for the hospice which leaves…”

“His family,” concluded Bo. 

“His mother?” queried Scott.  “She was the one who reported him missing.  She might just have done the report to keep people off his trail.”

Tony pursed his lips.  “Maybe, but I think it’s more likely to be his cousin.”

Tom held his gaze across the table.  “His cousin?”

“Lord Harold Chelmsford, Earl of Dunnington, Basil’s uncle died about eighteen months ago,” Tony sipped his coffee.  “He left one daughter behind, Victoria.”

“Victoria beginning with ‘V,’” Tom leapt to the same conclusion Tony had in the early hours of the morning.

“Exactly,” Tony said triumphantly.  “Except I haven’t yet been able to find a photo for comparison with Valerie yet.”  He’d kind of fallen asleep over his laptop.

“Scott, Bo,” Tom said, “I want you both to head to Edinburgh to interview Basil Chelmsford; see what he knows.  Organise the relevant orders and searches for information on your way.”  He looked over at Tony again.  “Agent DiNozzo and I will tackle Lady Victoria Chelmsford.”

Scott scooped his computer off the table at the same time as Bo gracefully got to her feet.  They both headed out with brief words of goodbye and good luck.

Tony cocked his head at Tom.  “There’s something else you want us to focus on in addition to Victoria.”

Tom nodded.  “Your uncle called your family here.  We’ve assumed it was because he believed that a family secret – the knowledge of the way to Avalon existing within your family – was leaked.”

But if Tony had declared it wasn’t a family secret, why had his uncle called everyone back, Tony concluded.  It was a good question.

“Mrew,” Cadoc chimed in from the window before jumping down and heading for the door.  He looked imperiously back at Tony in expectation.

Tony pressed his lips together and gave a slight shake to his head.  He caught Tom’s inquisitive gaze and smiled, setting his mug down as he got to his feet.  “I think the cat has the right idea; time to go talk to my uncle.”

It was time to get some answers.

Chapter Text

The door to his uncle’s study was open. 

Will had taken a sentry position beside it on the wall.  Tony heard Tom suggesting Will take a break as he looked into the room, searching for his uncle.

Clive sat behind his desk, seemingly intent on reading a huge tome which was open in front of him.  He wore his thick black reading glasses which always made Tony smile for how unfashionable they were and for how much Clive did not care.

Tony knocked on the doorjamb and waited at the threshold for his uncle to look up.  Cadoc waltzed right in as though he owned the study.

Typical cat, Tony thought amused.

Clive plucked the glasses from his face as he waved Tony inside.  His gaze drifted to the agent beside him.  “Agent Black.”  He glanced back at Tony.  “I assume you’ve worked out the details of working together.”

“We have,” Tony confirmed.

“Good,” Clive said.

Cadoc jumped up on the desk and Clive petted the cat, rubbing behind its ears.

“We need to speak with you,” Tom said formally.

Clive pointed at the chairs in front of the desk.  “Please; take a seat.”  He waved his hand and the study door behind them closed.

Tony was well-used to his uncle’s occasional theatrics and rolled his eyes.  He was impressed that Tom had barely reacted.

“I take it Agent Black brought you up to speed on events from yesterday,” Clive stated.

Tony nodded.  “We’ve made a lot of progress, but there’s something only you can help us with.”

Clive raised a thin white eyebrow.

Tom cleared his throat.  “Tony noted that if the path to Avalon was a family secret, it wasn’t discussed within the family when he was there.  My colleagues and I believe that it is a family secret though and that you’ve summoned your family home, we assume, to determine which of them leaked the information that you know.”

Clive harrumphed, but a guilty chagrin flitted across his face as he turned to Tony.  “It’s not a question of not trusting you, Anthony, more one of tradition.”

“So it is a family secret,” Tony deduced.  He couldn’t deny there was a kernel of hurt forming in his belly at the idea that everyone in the family had known except him.

Clive sighed heavily, stroking Cadoc.  “Before the discussion goes much further, I am going to have to ask for a magical oath not to reveal the secrets of the Paddington family, Agent Black.”

Tom nodded.  “Of course.”

Clive got to his feet and moved over to the shelving on this right to retrieve an athame and small bronze bowl.  He handed the athame to Tom.

Tony nodded as Tom looked to him for reassurance.  “You’ll need to make a small slice across your palm and repeat the words of the oath after Clive speaks them.”

Tom stood up to face Clive across the desk.  He grimaced as he sliced his hand and the blood dripped into the bowl.  Tony winced in sympathy.

“I so swear,” Clive began.

“I so swear,” Tom repeated.

“I will hold the secrets of the Paddington family sacred, telling no man or woman in Albion the substance of them unless so directed by the head of the Paddington family,” Clive continued.  “Should I fail this oath, I will reap the consequences as judged by Magic.”

Tom repeated the words solemnly.

The blood in the bowl sizzled.

Clive gave a satisfied nod.  He held out his hand for the athame and with a wave of his hand, the blood was cleaned from the blade and the bowl. 

Tony reached for Tom’s hand as he sat down and Tom gave it with a questioning look.  Tony clasped it gently between his own, healing the wound with his own magic.

Cadoc meowed loudly and settled into a sphinx-like pose on the left side of the desk.

Tony reluctantly let go of Tom’s hand.  “Do I need to…”

“Of course not, dear boy; as I said, it’s not a matter of trust,” Clive settled back into his own comfortable leather recliner.  “Traditionally, the heir of Paddington and the head of the family are the only two who know the full history and the secrets of the family.”

“That means you and Crispian know,” Tony said, feeling a touch better that he hadn’t known. 

“More than us,” Clive said with a hint of regret. “Casper was my heir for a long time until Crispian was born since my late Hannah couldn’t bear children.”

“What about Christopher?” asked Tom.  “He’s a future heir, is he not?”

Clive nodded.  “I suspect Crispian informed him.  I do not know for certain.  Whether any of them have informed their significant others, I do not know either, but I do know I told Hannah.  There were no secrets between myself and my wife.”

Tony repressed the urge to frown and pout at the realisation that it was everyone in the family except for himself.  Tradition, he reminded himself; it wasn’t because his uncle didn’t trust him.

“Somebody in the family did give the family jewels away then,” stated Tony, unhappy at the idea that any of his family could have done something so dishonourable no matter the reason.

“In a manner of speaking,” Clive agreed, regret heavy in his voice.  “I summoned everyone here to discover if it’s true,” he admitted, “but you have to realise that knowing the path to Avalon is not just our secret.”

Tony tilted his head as he considered his uncle’s statement and his quick mind leaped to the obvious answer.  “Man forgot the way, but the Fae retained the knowledge beyond the closure of the path.”

“Or any other magical creature,” Clive concurred.

Tony’s eyes flitted to the cat who looked serenely back at him.  Familiars were ancient magic, Tony mused, maybe the cat knew the way to Avalon.

Clive regarded them for a long moment.  “The Paddington family is descended from Nimue, the youngest of the Fae left in Albion at the time Mab closed the path.  Two other daughters of Mab were left in Albion.  They may have done as Nimue did and left a written history behind with the knowledge contained therein.”

“Your hope is that somebody guessed at the truth rather than that your family gave the truth away,” Tom murmured.

Clive inclined his head.  “What of your investigations?  Are we any closer to knowing the young woman who tried to abduct me?”

Tony gestured at Tom to inform his uncle.  He was the lead agent on the case and it gave Tony a chance to sit back and admire the other man’s competence.

Competence was sexy.

Tom handed back to Tony once they got to the subject of magical poisoning and tracking down Basil Chelmsford.

Clive sighed heavily and rubbed his forehead with a thumb.  “I begin to fear I may have been the one to give away the family jewels.”

“Uncle?” asked Tony, startled by the admission.

Clive leaned back in his chair.  “I met Harold Chelmsford two years ago.  He asked me for help with a magical curse on the men in his family.”

“That’s why Basil is ill?” Tony deduced.

Clive nodded.  “I couldn’t help him, and I unfortunately may have suggested that Avalon was the only place where such magical poisoning could be cured.”

“You think his family assumed you knew the path to Avalon from your words back then?” asked Tom, beating Tony to the clarification.

“I told him that even knowing the path to Avalon, the quest was futile because the path was closed by the Queen of the Fae, and only the Queen will determine when it will open once more,” Clive replied.

“How do you know that?” asked Tom.

Clive got to his feet.  “Both of you, come with me.”

Tony hid his frown as his uncle strode to the shelving again and pushed one of the books inward.  Tony was almost at his side when the wall moved, swinging inward to reveal a staircase leading downward.

“A hidden passage?” Tony said gleefully. 

“I remember when you were twelve, you searched the entire house for one,” Clive said fondly.  “I had to create an illusion to fool you.”

“He was a curious child?” asked Tom.

Tony’s gaze snapped to him, wondering at the interest Tom was blatantly showing.  Their eyes met and the attraction between them surged up until Tony could almost taste it, both their eyes dropping to lips, to…he wrestled the urge to kiss the other man back, drawing on his professional cloak like armour.

Rule twelve, Tony told himself sternly.  He was really drawn to Tom in a way that went beyond usual interest and attraction but he was ostensibly working so he had to ignore it.

“Come on,” Clive instructed them as though he was oblivious to the tension between his nephew and the agent.

Cadoc jumped from the desk and sauntered down the stairs with a dismissive flick of his tail.

Tony followed after Clive, aware Tom was following him.  The steps were old, clearly hewn into the earth at the same time as the house had been built.  They led down for a long time.  They were deep under the house, Tony realised as the staircase ended and a tight passageway emerged. 

Clive sent a mage light forward to light their way, but Cadoc ran on ahead into the darkness.

There was a locked wooden door at the far end of the corridor.  Clive placed his hand upon it to unlock it.

It swung open into a circular room. 

Tony ducked his head to enter and Tom did the same.

Clive stood by a round table in the centre of the room.  Tony scarcely took it in as he caught sight of the floor to ceiling shelving filled with leatherbound books which looked ancient.  The mage light rested in the centre of the roof and Tony tracked the roots of a tree across the ceiling and down the walls behind the books.  They were in the wood, Tony realised; at its heart under the massive old oak tree that resided there.

“This is the secret of the Paddington family,” Clive raised his arms to gesture at the books.  “The real history of Myrddin, Magic and Britain, preserved by the order of Nimue.”

“This is…this is incredible!” Tom exclaimed.

Tony looked over to find Tom grinning excitedly.  He smiled back widely, letting his own awe show for a long moment.

“Is this the actual Round Table?” asked Tom, almost reaching out to touch it, but hesitating before he could make contact.

“Yes,” Clive said, “big enough to sit fifteen; the twelve Knights who led Arthur’s armies, his warrior Queen, Myrddin and Arthur himself.”

Cadoc leaped onto the ancient artefact and padded happily into the centre to sit there like an ancient Egyptian statue of Bast.

Tony found himself drawn to an empty scabbard lain across a shelf.  “Where’s the sword?”

“Excalibur is exactly where Excalibur needs to be,” Clive said, his tone rich with amusement.

Tony imagined it stuck in a stone somewhere.  He shook his head.  “This is amazing, Uncle Clive.”

Clive nodded, his expression sobering.  “The Fae walked Albion in different forms,” he explained, “but they always remained Fae.”  He sat down on a nearby bench.

Tony leaned carefully back against the shelves, knowing from his uncle’s expression that a lecture was about to be forthcoming.  Tom walked over to stand beside him, almost close enough to touch, barely an inch of space between their shoulders.

 “The history on these shelves tell us that three of Mab’s daughters walked in Albion when the path closed; Titania, Morgana and Nimue.”

“Wasn’t Nimue meant to be Morgana’s daughter?” asked Tom. 

“Myths and legends,” Clive stated with a huff.  “This is the real history.”

Tony absorbed that fact with interest and recalled what his uncle had said in his study.  “Three of Mab’s daughters were left behind in Albion then and any of their descendants may know the path.”

“If they left records as Nimue did,” Clive agreed and sighed.  “But we know it twice over because Nimue was tasked by Mab to be her brother’s keeper and Myrddin wasn’t Fae, but he understood the loophole Mab created.”

Tom blinked and Tony wondered if his own shock was showing as much on his face.

“Myrddin was Mab’s son?” asked Tom, saving Tony from doing the same.

Clive sighed.  “I should probably begin at the beginning.”

Tony nodded.  “How much of the mythology is wrong?”

“Most of it, and most of it by design to obscure the facts so we may keep Myrddin’s legacy safe,” Clive said succinctly.  “Let us start with Myrddin.” 

Cadoc meowed, walked across the table and jumped down.  He made his way to sit beside Clive, rubbing against him until Clive petted him.

“Myrddin was the son of Mab, the Queen of the Fae, and the Wild Huntsman,” Clive said.  “Only they wore flesh and blood when they created Myrddin and so their child was human in body even if that body could barely contain the Fae and Wild magic he inherited from his parents.”

Cadoc nudged Clive’s hand.

“Mab did not claim him but left him in the care of a woman and sent him a familiar to help control his magic,” Clive looked pointedly down at the cat.

“Do you mean to suggest that cat is Merlin’s familiar?!” Tom stared at Cadoc in disbelief.  “Any cat, even a familiar would have died long ago.”

“Unless they shared in the fate of their wizard,” Clive shot back.

Tony stared at the cat who’d slept on his bed all night.  “Let’s come back to the cat,” he said, dismissing the familiar to focus on the story, “Myrddin was human with a glowy barely containable magic centre.”

“Yes,” Clive said.  “Vivien, Lady of the Lake, the last of Mab’s daughters gifted Myrddin with a lake crystal which showed her brother visions of past, present and future.  Myrrdin had a vision of a King who would unite Albion and bring about an age of peace.  He quickly realised that none of the tribal chiefs or petty Kings he came across met the vision and determined he would need to create the King if he were to exist at all.”

“And so he tricked Igraine into sleeping with Uther at Uther’s behest,” Tony supplied.

“And sacrificed the crystal’s magic to ensure the physical creation of Arthur in their union,” Clive nodded.  “Myrddin’s own journals tell of the ritual he used.  Arthur’s entire body was riddled with the Fae magic of the crystal; it was the reason he lived, and it ran through every cell in his body.”

“Which is why when he was poisoned by Mordred, he was sent to Avalon,” Tom surmised, nodding in understanding.

“Yes, and also because the poison was no normal poison but magical and Fae in nature.  It’s also the reason why the Chelmsford men are poisoned,” Clive said.  He gestured at Tony.  “There’s a large green book on the top shelf behind you; please retrieve it, Anthony.”

Tony reached for it, ignoring the pull on his sore shoulder.  He handed it to Clive.

Clive got to his feet and walked over to the table.  He opened the book up, lying it flat on the table itself and gestured for them to come and look at the contents.

Tony’s eye was drawn to the beautiful calligraphy first before he took in the intricate lines of a family tree.

“The Pendragon bloodline,” whispered Tom, echoing an awe that Tony felt to his bones.

Clive nodded.  “According to Nimue, Morgana was a jealous creature.  She walked in Albion believing she would be Queen as their mother ruled in Avalon.  She hated Myrddin who was more powerful than her, who created a King who was beloved.  She worked at every turn to kill them both.”  He tapped the name of Mordred.  “She tricked Arthur into believing she was Guinevere just as Myrddin had once tricked Igraine into believing she slept with her husband and not Uther.  And she also used Fae magic to ensure the creation of a babe only…”

Tony’s breath caught as he followed his uncle’s finger on the page.  “She had twins.”

“Mordred came first and then his sister, Morgause,” Clive sighed.  “Mostly mythology has forgotten Morgause or sometimes confuses her with Morgana.”

“The Chelmsfords are the last of Morgause’s line,” Tony said, following the lines down to the bottom of the page.

“They share their blood with Arthur, and so just as Morgana intended for Mordred’s blade to poison the very magic which created Arthur, it also attacks any male of his blood remaining in Albion,” Clive said.  “The ages at which it hits them vary, but they all succumb eventually.”

“That makes a gruesome kind of sense; his descendants are made from him and he was made from magic,” Tony said solemnly. 

“I advised Harold that his distant cousins from the other branches of Morgana’s line may have more of a clue on how to help Basil than I,” Clive said, “it was her magic which poisoned Arthur’s at the end of the day.”

Tom straightened, almost vibrating with energy.  Tony wasn’t surprised.  They had motive and they had reason why Chelmsford was a likely suspect beyond her familial link with Basil given Clive’s indiscretion with the family secret. 

“I think we need to speak to Victoria Chelmsford,” Tom said firmly.

Cadoc leaped back up on the table and drew Tony’s attention back to the family tree when the cat plunked its paw down on a line.

“And maybe her cousins,” Tony offered, taking in what the cat had wanted him to find.  He pointed at the two girls under Basil’s entry, each originating from a different mother.  “Elizabeth and Mary.”  

“We’ll need to track them down,” Tom noted.

“Well, I think Elizabeth should be fairly easy since I’d bet my apartment she’s at the manor right now,” Tony said.   

Confusion didn’t alter how attractive Tom’s face was, Tony considered wryly.

“You think she’s Christopher’s girlfriend,” Clive deduced.

“Beth – Elizabeth,” Tony noted.  “Her mother’s surname is Cotton.  They’re not experienced at going undercover; they don’t change their names enough.” 

Tom cleared his throat.  “Do you think she’s here to try and abduct your uncle again?”

Tony frowned.  “No, I think the end game is something different.”  He bit his lip as he considered the angles.  “You know maybe we should just talk to Beth.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Tom said.

Clive hummed.  “I shall join you.”

“No,” Tony shook his head, “if she is after you best you keep your distance from her.”

“I agree,” Tom concurred.

Clive closed the book but left it on the table as they made to leave the room.  Tony looked back at the books with a wistful wish he could stay and read.  Even the little his uncle had told him had him completely intrigued.  How much of Myrddin’s story was real, he wondered.

His uncle stepped back into the passageway, Tom following him and Tony headed for the door to catch-up only…

Cadoc sat in the middle of the doorway barring his exit.

“Um,” Tony said bemused.

Clive moved back towards the room.  He glanced at the cat and back up to Tony.  “I think he wants you to stay here.”

“Yes…” Tony murmured.  And he wasn’t opposed, it was just that he had an investigation to complete.

Clive hummed.  “I’ve found it best to listen to Cadoc.”

“I’ll escort your uncle back to the manor and confirm Beth’s background check with Will,” Tom suggested.  “I’ll check on you after and if Cadoc is agreeable then, you could join us for the interview with her?”

Tony looked down at Cadoc who gazed back with a stern green gaze.  “I don’t think I have a choice, but that sounds good to me.”

Clive chuckled and waved a goodbye to Tony.  Tom nodded awkwardly and followed after him leaving Tony alone in the room.

Tony folded his arms and stared back at Cadoc challengingly.  “OK, Cadoc,” he said, “what was so important for me to know that you needed to keep me here?”

Chapter Text

His wizard had listened to him and stayed in the room.

Once again, Cadoc congratulated himself on choosing Tony as the right mage to tackle the threat he could sense on the wind.

He wound around Tony’s legs in a show of fond appreciation before jumping back up on the table and tapping the closed book with a paw.

“You want me to read more on the bloodlines,” Tony surmised.  He flicked open the book back to the Pendragon line.

Cadoc meowed.  He tapped Tony’s hand with his paw.  His bloodline.  Tony needed to read about the bloodline of Nimue.

Tony stared at him.  “OK, I’m going to guess you want me to look at my family tree.  I’m sure you’ll tell me if that’s wrong.”

Cadoc simply sat back allowing himself a smug smile at the intelligence of his wizard. 

Tony carefully lifted page after page until he found the right one.  His eyes scanned down the line from Nimue.

Cadoc began to groom his paw as Tony regarded the page with a frown.  The line of Nimue had once been prolific.  The Wood Fae had given birth to eight living children and they had each had plenty of children and grandchildren, yet only five of Nimue’s blood remained alive in the present day.

“Five of us,” Tony murmured, echoing Cadoc’s thoughts.  “Almost if somebody was intentionally thinning us out.  Why would someone target us?”

He tapped a finger against the table. 

“Uncle said that Nimue was tasked with protecting Myrddin’s legacy,” Tony mused out loud.  “If the Paddingtons were not around to protect that legacy…”

His intelligent gaze sharpened once more on Cadoc.

“Are you Myrddin’s familiar as my uncle claimed?” asked Tony bluntly.

Cadoc carefully gave a nod.  Nodding was not a typical body move for a cat.  It was uncomfortable and unnatural, but Cadoc made the effort to ensure Tony knew.

Tony stared at him wide-eyed.

Cadoc jumped down and headed to the bookshelves.  There was a treatise that Clive’s great-grandfather had written.  Where was it…a-ha!  Cadoc leaped lightly up to the right shelf and pawed at the book.

Tony got the message straight away.  He plucked the book from the shelf, sat down on the bench and began to read it, skimming the passages for relevant information.

“Myrddin was always seen in the company of a black cat, the familiar his mother had sent to help control his magic as a babe,” Tony recited.  He glanced at Cadoc.  “That is a long time to spend with your mage.”

Cadoc sat down on the shelf and flicked an ear.

Tony returned to the book.  “Morgana believed Nimue in agreement with her about Myrddin’s power and sent her to ensnare him.  He was heartbroken at the loss of Avalon, the death of his King and ripe for seduction…”

Cadoc wasn’t surprised by the disgust which filled Tony’s face.

“Eww,” Tony said, “he was her brother!”  He shook himself.  “Alright, moving on.”  His eyes scanned each page, the crisp turns echoing in the room.

Cadoc waited.

Occasionally, Tony would look up from the book towards him before returning to it.

Finally, Tony finished and set the book aside on the bench.  He sat forward, his hands clasped, elbows on knees as he contemplated the information.

“Nimue followed Mab’s direction to send Myrddin to sleep rather than kill him,” Tony said eventually, “to tie his fate to Arthur’s; when Arthur wakes so will Myrddin and the path to Avalon will open.”  His gaze found Cadoc.  “And you were sent to sleep with him; a familiar following the fate of his wizard.”

Cadoc remembered the tree forming, the branches enveloping them.

“The book says you wake when there is a threat to Albion and, because of your bond, a threat to Myrddin – Myrddin’s last spell to protect Arthur and Albion.”

Cadoc meowed in agreement.

“This investigation…” Tony said aloud, as he shifted position to lie prone along the bench – only just fitting given his height. “This investigation on the face of it is a threat to the Paddington family not necessarily to Albion or to Myrddin, although I guess it could be argued that a threat to the family is a threat to Myrddin as we protect his legacy and the tree.”

It was a good theory – not the right theory, but a good theory, Cadoc conceded.

“But I don’t think that’s it,” Tony concluded, unaware that Cadoc was pleased even though he began to purr.  “Feints within feints…”

He lurched to his feet and began to pace.  Cadoc watched him with a steady green gaze.

“Before I came here, my team was involved in an operation to trap a spy,” Tony began, stopping at the table in front of the family tree book.  “My boss set up one mission to disguise another…he told us we were going to test the security of a location to tempt the spy into making their own attempt to steal…well, something important.”

He tapped the table by the book.

“He didn’t tell us, he let us believe we had a valid mission right up until the truth came out,” Tony touched his head by his eye.

Cadoc’s eyes narrowed on the spot.  Had his mage been hurt?

“It worked though, we got the spy,” Tony murmured.  “This…this attempt to abduct my uncle by the Chelmsfords to find Avalon to cure Basil feels too much like that.  Like a story we’re meant to focus on to hide the real objective.” He turned to glance at Cadoc.  “The real objective is a threat either against Albion or Myrrdin; that’s why you’re here.”

Cadoc flicked an ear at him. 

“Are the Chelmsfords like me?” wondered Tony.  “Are they being used or do they know the real objective?”

Tony tilted his head, considering the questions he’d asked, but ultimately shook his head.  “Maybe Beth will tell us, but I don’t think it matters.”  He pushed a hand through his hair.  “What matters is working out the real objective before it explodes in our faces.”

He looked into the distance, although his mind was clearly elsewhere.

“I’d bet that the threat is to Myrrdin first and Albion second on the basis that if Myrddin falls, Albion will suffer either now or in the future,” Tony said.  “Which means it’s an enemy of Myrrdin…what was it my uncle said?  That Morgana hated him and was always working to defeat him.  Maybe that’s true of her descendants.  Maybe when Uncle Clive directed the Chelmsfords to seek out more of Morgana’s line, he inadvertently created an unholy alliance or sent them to someone who was happy to make them into puppets for their plan.”   

He opened the book.

“Let’s take a look at the line of Morgana,” Tony declared brightly. 

Clever wizard. 

Cadoc had been wise in choosing him.

Chapter Text

“I protest!” Casper declared as he thumped down into the comfortable chair that had been set out for the interviews in the morning room of the manor.

Tom resisted the urge to glance back at Tony sat on the sofa behind him, the cat curled up apparently asleep beside him.  He did glance across to Kelly sat by the table to his left who was in charge of recording the interviews.  She’d had to take an oath as Tom had done to take part as they would prod on the knowledge of the Paddington family secrets.  Kelly gave him a pointed look, but kept a serene expression on her beautiful face.

“I assure you, Professor Paddington, these interviews are simply routine,” Tom said soothingly.

They were actually not needed in reality, except for the discussion with Beth, but they had decided to hide the importance of her interview by interviewing everyone in the house on Tony’s suggestion. 

Tony’s theory that the abduction and search for Avalon were smokescreens for something else more threatening was concerning.

Casper huffed audibly and folded his arms tightly over his chest, his loose white shirt pulling taut.  “It’s a disgrace.”  He jerked his head at Tony.  “And what is he doing here?”

“Your nephew is working as a consultant on the case at the behest of your brother,” Tom informed him crisply.

Casper huffed again.

“Professor,” Kelly began, “have you recently or ever had contact with a young woman named Victoria Chelmsford?”

“No,” stated Casper firmly.

“Have you ever had contact with Basil Chelmsford aka the criminal known as Mordred?” Kelly continued.

“No,” stated Casper firmly.

“Harold Chelmsford?” chimed in Tom casually.

A brief flicker of something crossed Casper’s face before he settled on disgruntled as his expression.  “He was an alumnus of my college,” he admitted.  “I’ve had brief conversations with him at alumni events and dinners over the years.  Before his death, I suggested he make contact with Clive on a magical matter.”  He made a brief dismissive gesture with one hand.  “Clive is the Grand Wizard, after all.”

Tom asked the next questions which were proforma to establish Casper’s alibi at the time of his brother’s attempted abduction.

He cleared his throat.  “Have you ever revealed to anyone that the Paddington family knows the secret to getting to Avalon?”

Casper scoffed.  “Of course not.”  He gestured impatiently.  “It’s a stupid secret to want anyway.  It doesn’t matter if you know the way when the way remains closed!”

Tony coughed loudly.  “Ah, sorry,” he murmured brightly.  “Uncle, what do you think is the most important secret we hold?”

Casper glared at him.  “I think you know the answer to that!”

“We’re going to need you to clarify yourself verbally,” Tony said cheerfully, “for the record.”  He pointed at the laptop which was recording the conversation.

Casper grimaced, his jaw working in a way which made Tom think he was grinding his teeth.  “The oak tree.  There is nothing more sacred than the oak tree and the wood which is why it is surrounded by protections. You even have to have someone from the line of Nimue who knows the secret of the protections show you the way.  You would never find your way there without one of us.”

“Thank you, Uncle,” Tony said.

Tom was proud of the way Tony kept his composure in the face of his uncle’s clear dislike for him; he’d have been tempted to have punched the other man in the nose.

Tom cleared his throat.  “If you were to suspect someone in the family itself of proposing to the Chelmsfords that the Grand Wizard was aware of the way to Avalon, who would it be, Professor?”

Casper’s quick dart of a look towards Tony suggested that if he hadn’t known of Tony’s lack of knowledge prior to the abduction attempt, he’d have been tempted to name his nephew.  Instead, he huffed.  “Probably Christopher.  He’s young.”

‘…and stupid’ remained unsaid but Tom heard it all the same.  He thanked Casper for his time and ushered him from the room.

Crispian was next up.  He also shot a bemused look at his cousin when he realised Tony was present.  He unbuttoned his blazer and sat down.

“I see this is where you’ve been hiding, cousin,” Crispian said.  “Good to see you helping the Order.”

The tone was pleasant and polite, but Tom could sense the undercurrent of territorialism that coated Crispian’s posture and gaze.

“Good to see you too, Crispian,” Tony said grinning widely at him.

They played out the same questions with Crispian as they had with Casper, except Tony signalled for Tom to ask the question on which secret was most important.

Caspian frowned heavily.  “Avalon, of course.”

“And your reasoning?” pressed Tom.

“We cannot allow any not of the blood to make their way to Avalon,” Crispian stated.  “The secrets there would potentially destroy our world.”

Tom hummed and continued with the questioning on who Crispian thought was the culprit who’d spilled the secret.

“Clive,” Crispian said without hesitation.  “He’s getting old.  He should have retired and passed the mantle of Grand Wizard years ago.”

Crispian departed and his son took his place.

Christopher’s nerves shone in his dark eyes, but some of the tension in his body eked out at the sight of his cousin.  He gave Tony a nod of acknowledgement before turning back to Tom.  At least someone in his family other than Clive was fond of Tony, Tom mused as he focused on Chris’ replies to Kelly.

It was Tony who asked his question and Christopher immediately replied with ‘oak tree.’ 

“The tree is Myrddin,” Christopher claimed, his voice falling into the same academic intonation that Tom had experienced with Clive earlier that day.  “Nimue saved him from Morgana so he could serve Arthur when Arthur awoke.  If someone knows the path to the tree, they could destroy it and with it, they end Myrrdin’s life.”

“Casper talked of other protections,” Tony commented.  “That knowing the way isn’t enough.”

“That’s true,” Christopher said, “and the tree is protected with more than simply keeping its location a secret.  It’s said that nobody living could destroy it on their own, not even the Grand Wizard.”

Tom followed up with his final question and wasn’t surprised when the studious young man considered his answer carefully.

“As much as I don’t want to say it, I think it’s probably Uncle Clive,” Christopher sighed.  “He’s…he’s sometimes not aware of how much he gives away when he talks these days.”

With the Paddington heirs, former and present, accounted for, they moved onto their significant others.

James was first.  Tom was taken aback by James’ effusive greeting for Tony given Casper’s behaviour, but rolled with it.

“Do you prefer Doctor Hound or…” Kelly began.

“My private name has always been James Paddington since Casper and I tied the knot,” James said jovially.  “I only continue to use Doctor Hound in my academic work.” 

Tom had to stop himself from laughing as James veered into anecdotes when Harold Chelmsford came up.  He wasn’t surprised when Tony once again opted to ask his uncle the question and received a similar academic lecture about the importance of the oak tree.

“Do you know where it is?” asked Tom bluntly.

James shrugged.  “A vague direction only – the memory of our walk there and back is muddled, but Casper proposed to me by the tree.  It was very romantic.  I know you wouldn’t think it of him, but he is a very romantic man.  Why on our wedding night he…”

“TMI, Uncle James!” Tony asserted hurriedly.

Tom couldn’t contain his chuckle and James grinned back as he winked at him. 

“Have to keep the young ones on their toes!”

He named Clive as the likely teller of the secret and Tom stretched as he waited for Charlotte Paddington to enter.

She swept in looking immaculate in a casual navy blazer, tight khaki pants and a white crisp blouse.  There was a scarf of blue and green around her neck; her jewellery was discreet and her make-up carefully done to be the right shade of natural.  She only gave Tony a brisk nod of acknowledgement before she sat down and looked at Tom.  Tom bristled on Tony’s behalf, but pushed it away to focus on the interview. 

Charlotte’s answers to both the question on the secret and who had let it slip were repetitions of her husband’s to the point where Tom knew they’d clearly spoken about Crispian’s interview and what he had said.

“May I go now?” she asked tersely.  “Some of us have had to rearrange our lives to answer Clive’s unnecessary summons and have a mess to clean-up.”

Tom escorted her to the door, unsurprised that she left without a word to Tony.

“Is it usual for her to ignore you like that?” asked Kelly, swivelling round to look at Tony.

Tony shrugged.  “Depends on if she wants something.  Lottie’s always been very goal-oriented.  I still don’t know how she and Crispian managed to make a sweet kid like Chris.”

Tom agreed silently.

There was a knock on the door and Tom sent Kelly to usher in their final interviewee; the one they most wanted to talk to since Will had validated that she was Basil Chelmsford’s illegitimate daughter.

Beth Cotton looked completely uncertain as she sat down in the chair.  “I know why you want to talk to me and, look…” she sighed, defeat written across her face.  “I’ll tell you everything.  I don’t want to hurt Chris.”  Her lip trembled.  “I really do love him.”

Got you, Tom thought as he and Tony exchanged a quick look of surprised delight. 

Chapter Text

Tony rolled his shoulders and looked out of the window through the indigo sky towards the wood.  His eyes glanced off his own reflection; the mussed bed-hair, the lean muscled torso he worked hard to keep, and the simple sweats which he wore for bed.  He sipped at the mug of freshly brewed coffee he held as he contemplated the coming day and what would happen at dawn.

Feints within feints within feints, Tony mused.  Gibbs would be proud of him.  Had Gibbs stood in his basement sanding his boat the morning of the ill-fated mission to trap Michelle and wondered if he’d done the right thing?  If he was trusting the right people?

He rubbed a hand over his aching shoulder.  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d pulled a muscle so badly.  He just hoped it wouldn’t be a problem if there was a fight.

If.

Hopefully the plan would mean that the enemy would stand down, but when had Tony ever been that lucky?

The phantom echo of pain along his eye, in the centre of his lip caused him to shiver.

He trusted Tom.

Yes, he was insanely attracted to the other agent, but it was more than that.  They just clicked.  They could exchange thoughts and words with a single glance and know what the other one would think.  Tony hadn’t had that in a partner since his early days with Gibbs.  They’d lost it when Gibbs had lost his memory and they hadn’t rebuilt it fully in the aftermath.  Maybe Gibbs coming to see him before he’d come to England had helped put the first brick back, their telephone conversation when Tony had asked for help, the second.

Tom and his team knew the full plan, Tony reminded himself.   Tony had to trust them to be his back-up.

Cadoc rubbed up against his leg.

Well, one of his back-ups.  Cadoc was proving to be a smart and trustworthy ally – unsurprisingly given he was Myrddin’s familiar.

Tony’s lips twitched.  He really wasn’t a pet person.  Kate the Fish was an anomaly.  Still, Cadoc wasn’t a pet.  He was a familiar and a cat.  Even a non-pet person understood that cats didn’t have owners, they had slaves.

“Victoria and Mary are thralls; they have no will of their own.”

Remembering Beth’s words sent a shiver ran through him despite the warmth of the room.   He felt Cadoc rub against him again, to comfort.

He might have been used by Jenny, by Vance and by Gibbs, but at least he’d never had his own will subjugated to another.  The thought horrified him.

They’d rescue Beth’s cousin and half-sister.  Tony pressed his lips together.  He hadn’t accepted any other proposal.  They deserved better than to be considered collateral damage.

Everything was set. 

The players in motion. 

A soft knock came at the door to his rooms, turning Tony’s head.

And the game was about to begin.

He flicked his free hand at the door and it swung open silently. 

Tom walked in confidently.  He’d changed into well-fitted blue jeans, a blue button-down which emphasised his eyes and a green Barbour jacket.  He looked good.  Tony felt pretty naked in comparison as Tom’s eyes moved over him as he closed the door behind him. 

“The Order is moving.”

Tony nodded.  It was part of their plan to make it seem like the Order was acting on the patently false information Basil Chelmsford had tried to sell Bo and Scott in their interview the previous day.  “Has Bo Seen anything?”

“She keeps seeing a gold sword which given the ones we wield are silver is worrying,” Tom said, frustration coating his words.  “Otherwise, nothing.”

“Well, I’ll be on the lookout for a golden sharp pointy object,” Tony quipped, as their gazes locked together.

They had the distance of the room between them, but tension sizzled as though they were a breath apart.

“I should go,” Tom said.

“Yes,” Tony agreed.

He stayed.

“I’m not imagining this, am I?” Tom questioned bluntly, suddenly.  He waved a hand between them.  “You feel this too.”

“I do,” Tony agreed honestly.  “But this isn’t the right time to talk about it.”  He let a smile drift over his lips, warm his eyes.  “Or do anything else about it for that matter.”

Tom smiled back, a hint of sheepishness crawling over his face.  “Perhaps not, but after?”

“After,” Tony agreed.

Tom nodded briskly.  His eyes darted down to Tony’s lips, slid down to his naked torso and back up.  “I’ll look forward to it.”

Tony shivered again, attraction and arousal blushing through him.

Tom wet his own lips as he registered Tony’s response.  “I should…” he gestured at the door behind him.

“Yes,” Tony agreed again, a touch more urgency in his voice.

“After then,” Tom grinned at him and left.

Tony sighed in the empty room only for a plaintive meow to call his attention back to Cadoc who looked at him knowingly.

“I know,” Tony said, “rule twelve.  So,” he waved at the place Tom had just stood, “after.”

Cadoc artistically slumped into the position where he could lick his ass.

Tony raised an eyebrow.  “Judgemental,” he commented.  “Or you’re telling me to go and get washed.”

Cadoc continued cleaning himself.

“Bathroom it is,” Tony declared, draining his mug and placing it down on a side table as he headed for the bathroom.  It wasn’t as though the cat was wrong; he could do with a cold shower.

Twenty minutes later with his ablutions over, Tony dressed quickly.  He pulled on jeans, an undershirt, and a white cable knit sweater.

He checked the time and made some toast in his kitchenette, smearing on the peanut butter his uncle always made sure to have for him.   He munched down on the last slice as he pulled on woollen socks and hiking boots. 

He strapped his badge and gun to his belt.  His consultancy status gave him the credentials he needed to carry and he felt more secure with the artefacts of his law enforcement status attached to him as usual. 

A short brown leather jacket lined with a woollen fleece and gloves completed the outfit. 

It was time to head out.

Cadoc led the way.

The manor was spookily quiet with the first hints of light breaking through the gaps in the curtains and sending silvery pale strips across the old wooden floors and the thick comfortable rugs.  He left via a side entrance by the kitchen once used for tradespeople, the cold brisk air slapping into his newly shaved face with all the force of a scorned woman.

Tony sucked in a breath, hated how his scarred lungs protested the action, and followed the cat to the woods.

There was something eerie about walking through the woods in winter, Tony considered ruefully.  The trees were stripped bare of any foliage and their branches shook in the brisk wind.  Fog covered the muddy ground, hiding the trees’ sprawling roots and making the pathway hazardous. 

Cadoc’s form weaved through the woodland with ease.  He kept a steady pace, one that Tony could keep up with easily. 

He’d thought he’d known the way to the oak tree.  He could remember being taken there by his uncle many times.  Until James had said the way was muddled in his mind and Tony had realised that it was the same for him.  As soon as he’d tried to think on it, he’d known his mind was as muddled as James’.  Well.  Maybe not that muddled, but the way to the oak tree wasn’t a memory he could bring forth clearly.

Cadoc, of course, broke the rules.  The familiar wasn’t of Nimue’s line, but he would always know the way to his mage; a loophole and one Tony was taking advantage of as he needed to be at the tree without alerting his prime suspect.  He wondered whether he’d remember after since the secrets had been shared with him and he was in the know.

He couldn’t hear footsteps or sounds behind them that would give away a follower and wondered if he should be worried or not about the silence.  He took a breath, crisp air smarting his lungs again. 

The path opened up into the grove where the oak tree lived in the centre and Tony took in the view of it with new eyes.

It was thick and wide giving truth to its ancient origins.  It reached high into the sky, its branches thick and heavy as they gave a thin spindly cover to the grove itself.  Tony pictured the tree as he had seen it last, heavy with leaves of green turning burnished red, bronze and yellow.  It was stunning in full bloom, but naked without its cover.

The width was a boon as four men could have hidden behind it and not been seen, and Tony was only one man. 

Cadoc leaped into the branches and disappeared into their shadows, melding so seamlessly into its branches, Tony worried for a moment whether it had returned to the tree itself.  A soft meow reassured him.

All that was left was to wait, Tony mused.  He cast a warming spell to keep the cold from creeping into his limbs and settled in.

Waiting.

He hated it.

He didn’t have to wait for long.

The group walking towards him were not silent; their footsteps crunched on old leaves and twigs, sucked in and out of mud, and their clothing rustled more than the wood around them.  A flight of birds took to the air as though sensing the danger ahead.

Tony cast a spell and closed his eyes to watch the events on the other side of the tree.

The group emerged one by one from the path.

Crispian was in the lead.  He knew the way.  He had dressed warmly, but the outfit still screamed Gentleman Farmer and was completed by the flat tweed cap on his head.

Lottie followed her husband.  She had also dressed suitably for a walk through the woods, but her jacket was open as though the cold didn’t affect her, her hair left loose to fly in the breeze.

Three young women followed them.

Victoria Chelmsford was a beautiful young woman; toffee and caramel coloured hair tucked into a practical bun, her delicate features and large brown eyes giving her a deceptively fragile appearance.  She hadn’t worn enough clothing – just jeans, a sweater and a thin denim jacket – and she was visibly shivering.

Mary Telford was the youngest of the women, eighteen and a former street-rat who’d lived with her father in the squat for a time.  She wasn’t conventionally pretty, but her quirky look worked for her even if the pink hair looked completely out of place in the middle of a country wood.  She was bundled up in a puffer coat.  Tony was surprised she could walk in it.

Beth was the last into the clearing.  She had dressed warmly and her grey wool coat had been matched with a pink woolly hat and fingerless gloves. 

They all came to a stop in front of the oak tree.

“Is this it?” asked Mary bluntly, stamping her feet.

“This is it,” Lottie confirmed with a satisfied smile.  She turned to her husband and kissed him deeply.

Tony felt some sympathy with the young women who looked away rather than watch the tongue-fest.

Lottie finally released Crispian.  She cupped his cheek and stared into his eyes.  “Leave us here and return to the manor to attend your uncle’s meeting.  Argue that he should step down and hand you the keys to the Estate and have you take over his place as Grand Wizard.”

“Yes, my love,” Crispian intoned.

There was something off in his voice, Tony realised; it was devoid of personality as though…as though she had him under thrall.

Tony quickly took out his phone and texted his uncle and cousin a warning.  The meeting had been set-up to remove Crispian from the board, but potentially it had just turned into a rescue mission to see him freed from his thralldom.

He’d been right, Tony mused, and wrong.  He’d assumed it was both of them together, but if Crispian was enthralled then it was just Lottie who was the main puppeteer.  And maybe that wasn’t surprising given her real identity.

“Are you sure we’ll be fine here without him sticking around?” asked Mary.

“Of course,” Lottie motioned for Crispian to leave and he walked away.

Victoria was scanning the woodland, a frown twisting her features.  “You say the Order left to chase after the clue we had Basil give them?”

“I saw them leave myself,” Lottie said dismissively.  “We should focus on the task at hand.”

“What is the task at hand?” asked Beth, her face so pale her freckles stood out.

“If we’re to remove the poison from your bloodline, we must kill the source,” Lottie waved at the tree.  “We will burn it down to ashes.”

“Chris told me that it was protected,” Beth babbled out nervously. 

Lottie shrugged lightly.  “Its defences cannot withstand all four of our blood and magic.”  She held out a hand and a dagger shimmied into view.

And that was his cue, Tony determined.

He stepped out from behind the tree, leaning against its side as though he was unconcerned how they’d all turned to face him – some more angrily than others.

“Lottie,” he said cheerfully, “how lovely to see you here.”

“Is he one of the protections?” asked Mary, looking him up and down.

“No,” Lottie replied, “he’s nothing but an abomination of magic.  His mother was a weak and desperate woman who joined herself with a weak and desperate man.”

Tony dramatically clutched at his chest.  “You wound me, Lottie.”

“Not yet,” Lottie said, twirling her dagger, “but I will.”

“Tell me, what tale have you told them?” Tony asked out loud. 

“It’s not a tale,” Lottie said crisply.  “If we destroy the tree, we’ll destroy the poison which kills their bloodline.”

Tony tutted.  “Well, now, that’s not entirely true, is it?”  He gestured at her.  “Morgana created the poison to kill the magic which kept Arthur alive, she coated the blade that Mordred wielded.  It’s her poison, her magic which continues to destroy their male bloodline.  The tree has nothing to do with that.”

Lottie smiled cruelly.  “Do you think you know more of magic than I?”

“I think I understand cause and effect,” Tony replied evenly.  “I think I know murder and motivation.  You destroy the tree and you believe you destroy Myrddin.  Perhaps you believe you’ll even destroy Arthur fully as Arthur was created by Myrddin’s magic.  Kill the source, wasn’t that what you said?”

“Who the hell is Myrddin?” asked Mary.

“Merlin,” Beth supplied.

“And who has always wanted to kill Merlin?” Tony asked, his eyes on the witch in front of him.  “Do you want to introduce yourself to your descendants, Morgana, or shall I?”

Lottie – no, Morgana glowered at him.  Her human form melted away, leaving the Fae in front of him.

She was imposing.  A beautiful dark-haired woman, free of the wrinkles of time, her complexion smooth and pale; green eyes stared out coldly at him as her wings, the sharp black blades of a raven.   The thin green dress she wore wouldn’t provide protection from the cold, but he assumed her Fae blood and magic kept her warm. 

Neither Mary nor Victoria looked perturbed and Tony guessed they’d seen the Fae in her original form before.

“Oh my God,” Beth murmured across the clearing. 

Morgana preened in response.  Her gaze returned to Tony.  “You were always a clever child, Anthony.  Tell me, how did you find out?”

“Bloodlines,” Tony said honestly. “You masked your identity in Nimue’s line, but forgot to mask Christopher in yours.”

Morgana smiled sharply.  “An oversight I will amend after I have dealt with you.  I shall be pleased to be your end.”

Tony ignored the threat.  “This isn’t the first time you’ve tried to destroy the tree, is it?”

She glared at him.

“Your original plan was to get close to Crispian, the heir, marry him even,” Tony noted, “and get to the tree.  Only you realised once you were in front of it that not even a full-blooded Fae could destroy the tree alone.  Its protections are too great.  You needed more than you.  You birthed a child, one who you’d hoped to manipulate into the same hatred towards Myrddin to help you, but Chris…he rebelled against you and you couldn’t make him a thrall as you have Crispian, he’s the mixing of two lines of Fae blood, powerful in his own right.”

“He is my son,” Morgana hissed.  “You think he wouldn’t follow me in this?”

“I think Christopher is and always has been his own man,” Tony said, genuinely.  “I’m guessing when you heard about the Chelmsfords, you must have thought the Gods had given you a gift; women of your blood who could be manipulated to helping you.”

“What’s he talking about?” asked Mary brusquely.       

“He’s lying,” Morgana said dismissively.  “Trying to turn you from me as though he could.”

“Not when you hold them as slaves to your own magic,” Tony agreed.  “Well, except for Beth.  You sent her to get close to your son, to manipulate Chris into helping where you’d failed as his mother.  But you couldn’t enslave her because if he was physically with her, he’d spot she was magically enslaved and your truth would out.”

“You think you have it all worked out, don’t you?” Morgana snarled angrily.  “I will destroy you!”

Victoria was moving to flank him, assuming rightly that his main focus was Morgana.  Cadoc leaped down from the tree and Victoria froze.  Morgana’s face twisted into an ugly scowl at the sight of the cat.

“Beth,” Tony called out, “you should leave now.”

Beth shook her head.  “I can’t leave you alone with them.”

Victoria’s and Mary’s heads snapped towards her, fury and shock written all over their faces. 

“You betrayed us?!” Mary spluttered furiously.

“I love Chris,” Beth’s chin raised an inch.  “I won’t let you harm him.”

Morgana glared at her.  “You’re not good enough for my son!”  She threw the dagger towards Beth.

Tony moved, shifting from his position leaning against the tree to stand directly in front of it.  He deflected the dagger with a wave of his hand and it fell onto the ground and disappeared. 

The very air in the grove seemed to still.

He motioned at Beth.  “Go.”

Beth hesitated for another moment before she turned and ran.

Mary moved to follow her and the light shifted revealing Bo and Scott in front of her. 

Tony’s sigh of relief went unnoticed as Cadoc’s spell to hide the Order dissipated, leaving behind Will and Kelly in front of Victoria, and Tom beside Tony facing Morgana.

His back-up had all arrived.

Tom cleared his throat.  “Order to arms!”

The agents of the Order lifted their right arms and the silver swords of their office appeared like magic.  

Tony lifted his own arm, prepared to call his staff, and a sword just slapped into hand, heavy and magical as though it was a part of him.  It shone gold in the weak sunlight, magic racing up and down its blade.

Morgana gave a scream and…

The fight was on.     

They were completely outclassed.

The thought stormed through Tony’s mind as he batted away red bolt after bolt of pure magic as Morgana showed them the power of the Fae.

Tom stood side by side with him.  For every bolt Tony missed, Tom managed to bat it away. 

Cadoc stood by the tree, shielding it from harm, although the exposed claws he ground into the dirt showed how much he wanted to join the fight.

To their left, Mary had thrown off her winter coat to start an actual physical fight with Kelly, exchanging blow after blow of martial art kicks and punches while Will lay on the ground already felled in surprise at Mary’s non-magical attack.

Tony batted the red bolt coming towards him back to Morgana who simply turned it into a raven which cawed and flew back towards them.  Tom sliced it in half with his sword.

Another bolt flew towards him and Tom missed, ducking just in time…it hit against Cadoc’s magical shield.

Cadoc meowed angrily.

To their right, Victoria had already tried to teleport away and failed; she was inexperienced in magical fighting and Scott was luring her towards him while Bo circled the young witch from behind. 

Tom batted another bolt away from them.  “We’re not going to be able to keep this up for long!”

Another bolt sizzled toward him and he hit it away, aiming for Morgana.  He was pleased to see she faltered a touch, her weight shifting. “Try to aim them back at her as fast and as hard as you can.”

Tom nodded.

A cry to their left had Tony glancing quickly over to see Mary on the ground and restrained.  Kelly was handcuffing her.  Will had gotten to his feet.

Tony considered their options.  “Will, get over here and swap out with me!”

Will hurried to take Tony’s place.

Tony stepped back behind them, instinct driving him.  He slammed the sword into the ground, and went to his knee, bending his head to the hilt.  Cadoc bounded over to him; pressed against his side, his magic adding to Tony’s own, powerful and potent because he had been the familiar to walk with Myrddin.

“Here my plea, the Wood Fae who sleeps.  Come to the aide of your kin.”  Tony whispered.

A hard rush of cold wind stormed through the glade. 

The dead leaves on the ground flew up in a noisy hurricane…

Tony stayed kneeling on the ground…

The Order threw up their hands to protect their faces and…

Victoria went sprawling…Bo immediately restraining her.

Morgana gave an angry yell and pushed out a wave of red magic which sent the leaves flying away, the grove clear for a second before they rushed back in a huge cloud that obliterated the sunlight for a moment…

They reformed next to Tony into the form of a young woman; her mottled brown hair was down to her waist, her green eyes were the same as Tony’s, her tanned complexion streaked with mud and earth, her dress a patchwork of leaves and bark.

“Nimue!” Morgana snarled.

“Morgana,” Nimue replied calmly.

The Order began to line up either side of Tony and his newly awake Fae ancestor with Mary and Victoria in magic suppression cuffs dragged to the side with Bo and Scott where they could remain out of the confrontation.

Tony got to his feet, feeling a little foolish at his actions, but pleased they’d worked.  Cadoc sat beside him, tail tucked around him.

“It is good to see you again, Friend Cadoc,” Nimue said melodically.  She turned to Tony, her eyes warm and friendly.  “Well met, Sword of Magic and mine own blood.”

“He is an abomination!” shouted Morgana, her chest heaving.

“You only say that because his mother found a way to confound your curse on the Nimue line,” James called out cheerfully as he walked into the grove.  “You sought to reduce their numbers through poor fertility while arranging ‘accidents’ for others.”

Tony stared at him in bemusement.  He glanced at Tom and quirked an eyebrow to see if he knew why his uncle had turned up, they’d pretty much left Casper and James in the dark.  Tom subtly shook his head.

“Infertility?” Nimue glared at her sister.  “You cursed my line?!”

“Well, except for Caroline.  Morgana needed her to bear Crispian, the boy she’d seduce, and of course Crispian himself.  Although thanks to today’s events, we know she also had to enthrall him to keep him,” James continued, walking happily up to stand beside Nimue, even jokingly gesturing for the Order to squeeze him in.

“Yet Morgana was not successful.  It is another of my line who calls me forth,” Nimue noted.

“Millie had to resort to magical miracles for Anthony here,” James concluded, grinning over at Tony.

Tony smiled weakly back at him.  “Uncle James, don’t take this the wrong way, but what are you doing here?  How did you even find us?”

“Dear Beth was very upset when she reached the manor,” James noted, sobering a little, “and when I heard Lottie was actually Morgana, well…I knew some secrets could no longer remain secret.” 

“ENOUGH!” yelled Morgana.  “I will destroy you all and…”

“You will not be destroying anyone,” James growled at her. 

Suddenly, there was the faint sound of hoofbeats, howls in the whispers of wind, magic crackled over all their skins leaving goosebumps behind.

James smiled darkly at Morgana.  “Did you really think my brother Myrddin was only protected by his mother’s kin?  Did it not occur to you that our father would see him safe also?”

Shock ran through Tony’s veins like electricity.  Myrddin’s father.  The Wild Huntsman.  James Hound. 

“How many secrets are your family hiding?” muttered Tom.

“Too many,” whispered Tony back. 

Morgana threw a bolt of lightening towards James and he flicked it away with a wave of wind.

“You do realise, dear Fairy, that Wild Magic will always trump Fae in Albion?” James smiled sharply.  “Why do you think you could never defeat Myrddin?  Wild Magic built these lands.  Hounds roamed here long before Avalon brought their cats.” He glanced at Cadoc.  “No offence, Friend Cadoc.  It has been many years since we once tussled to be Myrddin’s most beloved companion after all.”

Cadoc’s ears flattened to the side of his head.

Tony didn’t think that was a good sign.  He cleared his throat.  “Uncle James, Grandmother Nimue,” he said respectfully, “is there any way to restrain Morgana?”

“Restrain her?” Nimue glowered at her sister.  “I will see her dead for the damage done to my line.”

Morgana scowled back at her.  “Don’t blame me for taking advantage of the fact that you were so busy protecting the half-breed, you forgot to protect your own blood!”

“How very Bellatrix Lestrange of you,” Tony commented dryly.

James grinned before he turned to Morgana with a dark expression.  “It matters not, Morgana of the Fae.  You will answer for your crimes against my brother, Myrddin.  My father wishes words with you.” He lifted his face to the sky and howled.

The sound of hoofbeats immediately filled the air, getting louder and louder…

Morgana’s face paled.  “NO!” She lifted up her hands to do something…

The ghosts of horses crashed into the grove, black as night, coats glistening…

A horn sounded…

The horses surrounded Morgana, raced around her, hid her from their view and…

Suddenly they were gone…and so was Morgana.

Chapter Text

They all looked at the empty space where Morgana had stood.

James clapped his hands.  “Well, I think my work is done here.”  He winked at Tony, shifted into a very large black dog and bounded away.

Cadoc hissed at the retreating form.

Nimue shifted, the leaves of her dress rustling.  She looked at Tony before reaching to cup his cheek in the palm of her hand.  “I will always come when my kin call, Sword.  Look after our family; they have need of you.”  She disintegrated in a rush of cold wind, the leaves falling to the ground.

Tony looked over at Tom who silently asked him if he was OK.  Tony nodded.  He looked at the golden sword in his hand and wished it away.  It didn’t want to go, complaining loudly with nothing more than a press of unhappiness, but it acquiesced when Tony mentally reassured it that he would call upon it again since he knew he could after their battle with Morgana.

Tony shook his head as it melted back into his hand.  He was going crazy.  Magic, Tony reminded himself wryly.  It was confounding at times.

“What’s going on?” Victoria’s confused voice broke the silence.  She blinked owlishly at them.  “Why are we in the woods?  Who are you people and…”

Tom raised his swordless hand at her.  “We’re the Order of Pendragon, and you’d do well to avail yourself of your right to silence.”

“We’re getting arrested?!” Mary blurted out, blinking rapidly, her eyes wide-open with shock.  “Why?!”

Tony frowned and cast a spell at them.  He sighed as the air around them shimmered green.  “Whatever Morgana was doing to them, it’s gone.”

“My father will hear about this!” Victoria said sharply.

Tony held up his hand before she said anything further.  “You’ve been under an enchantment, Lady Chelmsford, you and your cousin.  Your memory seems to have been affected, but you were brought to these woods to commit a crime which is why you’re in handcuffs.”

Both young women looked at him with bemusement.

“It’s not an act?” checked Tom.

Tony shook his head.  “They’re going to need to be magically assessed and potentially hospitalised.  We should head back to the manor.”

They all began to troop back out of the woods. 

Tony stopped for a moment when he realised Cadoc wasn’t with them, but as he turned back to see if he had rejoined Myrddin in his sleep, the black cat bounded over to him, tail high and a spring in his step.

The day passed in a blur. 

The Order took Victoria and Mary into custody and departed, although Tom promised to return.  Crispian had collapsed at the moment of Morgana’s removal by the Hunt.  Christopher, Casper and Clive went with him to hospital.

Tony focused on writing up his report for the Order’s paperwork.  It was late afternoon before he surfaced.  Cadoc was sprawled across most of the bed, snoozing in a puddle of sunlight.  Tony left him and went in search of a snack in the main kitchen.

Alice, the cook, had been with the family for years and happily pushed Tony into the dining room and proceeded to have him served afternoon tea.

He was partially through the delicious scone when Casper slid into the chair opposite him, waving away the footman who had hurried to serve him.

Tony looked over at his uncle curiously.  It was almost the first time he could remember Casper voluntarily being in the same space as him.

“James says you know about him,” Casper said bluntly.

“Hard not to when he turned up and saved us all,” Tony commented dryly.  He sipped his tea and regarded his uncle with an even stare.

Casper flushed.  “He’s my husband, my love.”

“Yes,” Tony said when he realised Casper was waiting for a response.

“You don’t have any questions?” Casper demanded brusquely.

Tony smiled sharply.  “Lots, but none that I need to know to close my report.”

Casper huffed.  “Your report will not name him!”

“Clive was promised discretion by the Order in relation to family secrets,” Tony said calmly.  “I figure this one is a doozy so…no, my report doesn’t name him.”

“And the others?”

Tony caught the worry lurking in Casper’s eyes and softened a little towards his uncle.  “I’ll check with Agent Black and make sure the reports don’t mention James by name before they’re submitted.”

“Thank you,” Casper said stiffly.

They sat in silence for a moment, Tony focusing on eating his scone and sipping his tea; Casper glowering unhappily on the other side of the table.

“How’s Crispian?” asked Tony.  Clive had sent him a brief text, but it had been vague.    

Casper sighed.  “He has lost all memories from after his second year of being with her.”

Tony grimaced.  Crispian had started dating Lottie at Oxford.  To have lost so much…God, he’d lost his memory of his son! 

“The last thing that he remembered was telling her that they should take a break,” Crispian complained.

“How’s Chris taking it?” asked Tony softly.

“He’s risen to the occasion and is supporting Clive admirably,” Casper allowed, “especially given his father’s condition, his mother’s true identity and the revelation of that girl’s deception.” He harrumphed.  “I should have known she was trouble.”

“She really does love Chris,” Tony said mildly.  “She wouldn’t have assisted the Order if she didn’t.”

Casper scowled, but he didn’t argue the point. 

Tony picked up the last bite of scone.

“James told me that you successfully called upon Nimue,” Casper stated brusquely.

Tony nodded, still chewing on his scone.

Casper gave a sharp nod in response.  “I hate your father.”

Tony picked up his tea, not sure what response Casper was looking for. 

“He’s a fool and a charlatan,” Casper continued.

“If you’re expecting me to defend Senior, don’t bother,” Tony replied. “I haven’t spoken to him in years.”

Casper pressed his lips together and held Tony’s gaze.  “Your mother was…”

“My mother,” Tony cut in sharply.  “Whatever flaws and faults she had, she was my mother.”

It appeared for a moment that Casper might argue, but then he sighed.

“She was a lovely child,” Casper allowed.  “We indulged her every whim, probably too much.”  His eyes saddened, his grief showing.  He suddenly moved, levering himself up to a standing position.  “Clive will need you here for a time.”

Tony’s eyes widened at the suggestion he stay in England.  He raised the teacup.  “If he does, this is where I’ll be.”

Casper knocked a fist on the table in acknowledgement and left.

Tony shook his head for a moment whether he’d imagined the whole encounter.  He finished his tea and headed up to his room to make some calls.

Clive waved him off visiting the hospital as did Chris.  They were spending most of their time sitting waiting for the medical professionals to run tests and update them.  Tony had offered to be there simply for support, but both felt it would be wiser for Tony to remain at the manor to help protect it in case the Chelmsfords or Morgana had any follow-up tricks.  He couldn’t argue with their reasoning.

Tony checked in with Tom by text to get the assurance of confidentiality on James’ true nature and was pleased when the agent started to text small updates and messages through the rest of the afternoon and into the early evening. 

It was late when Tom showed up at his rooms. 

The sky had long since turned dark and Tony had lit all the table lamps in the reception room.  The fire burned cheerfully in the hearth.  The room was a cosy amber haven. 

He sat at the piano, playing idly, plucking out tunes as his mood took him.  The soft knock had his hands lifting from the keys.  He walked over to open the door physically, not inclined to use magic after the battle that morning.

Tom looked weary – still unfairly handsome, but weary.

Tony ushered him in quickly.  “Have you eaten?”

“I had take-out with the team,” Tom confirmed.  “One of those wouldn’t go amiss though.” He pointed at the glass of red wine Tony had left out on the coffee table.

Tony walked over to the coffee table where he’d left the bottle and a spare glass he’d put there on the assumption Tom would want a drink when he arrived.  He poured a glass and handed it to Tom who had followed him.  He retrieved his own.  They carefully knocked glasses together in a silent toast and took a first sip.  Tony gestured for them to sit.

They were side by side.  Too close for men who had just met two days before; who were only meant to be professional colleagues.

“Business first?” checked Tom.

Tony nodded, keen to know what had happened other than the bits and bobs Tom had shared with him in the texts.

“Victoria and Mary have been hospitalised and their enchantment is being documented,” Tom began.  “The charges against them will likely be dropped on the basis that they had no control or free will.”

“Beth?” asked Tony softly.

“Is out on her own recognisance and headed back to her flat in Oxford,” Tom said.  “She will be charged because she had her own will and went along with the plan, but she’ll get consideration for the fact that she turned and gave us information in the end.”  He cocked his head.  “Do you think her relationship with Chris will survive?”

Tony sighed heavily.  “Chris was devastated when we told him, and he has a lot to deal with now.”

Tom visibly winced.  “I can’t say I envy him.  My parents died in a fire when I was twelve; I ended up in foster care for a time before my grandfather took custody of me.  I didn’t give him an easy time of it.”

“Parents are difficult,” Tony agreed softly, staring down into his wine before setting it aside.

“The Director of MI7 will likely make you another offer of employment tomorrow,” Tom said, switching subjects.  He regarded Tony with a curious expression.  “I’ve requested that he offer you the Order.  All of us on the team agreed you were great.”

“You want me to join the Order?” checked Tony, surprised.

Tom smiled at him.  “You’re an excellent agent, Tony.  We’d be lucky to have you.”

Tony blinked.  “Wow.”  He bit his lip.  “If we’re going to do this,” he waved a hand between them, “I’m not sure it’s a good idea to work together.”

“There are no regulations if that’s your concern,” Tom said.

“There’s still a conflict,” Tony pointed out, “and…my boss has a rule about never dating a co-worker; I tend to think it’s a good rule.”

Tom lifted an eyebrow.  “I think the Director will want you even if it’s not us, but maybe it’s time for the personal conversation we need to have then?”

Tony nodded, nerves leaping up to close his throat shut even as words fled his mind.

“Full disclosure,” Tom said bluntly, putting his glass down and holding his gaze intently, “I don’t think I can do casual, not with you.”

Tony felt a thrill of fear run through him.  It wasn’t that he was scared of commitment – he yearned for a relationship with the kind of love and devotion his Uncle Casper had with James – but he’d burned a few times, not least with the whole debacle with Jeanne, and the scars still smarted.  It was going to take a lot of courage for him to make the leap.

But something told him it was going to be worth it if he did.

“I don’t want casual with you,” Tony agreed.

Tom leaned in slowly, giving Tony plenty of time to move, to say no…

They kissed gently at first, a soft exploration which made Tony’s blood hum, had one of his hands sliding around Tom’s head to the back of his neck and the other clinging to his shirt.  Both of Tom’s hands cupped his face gently as the kiss deepened.

Tony blinked as they separated briefly before they resumed kissing; deeper, longer kisses which made his blood sing and had Tony searching for skin as Tom’s hands slid under his sweater and encouraged it upwards and off.

Tony’s fingers made quick work of the buttons on Tom’s shirt and his fingers found Tom’s well-defined abs before dipping lower and toying with the belt on Tom’s pants silently seeking permission. 

Tom broke their kiss, his eyes bright with arousal and passion.  “Bed.”  His eyes snuck to Cadoc asleep on the piano.  “I’d rather not have an audience.”

Tony smiled, genuinely happy as he untangled their limbs, not bothering to wonder when they’d gotten tangled, and led the way to his bedroom.

It was much, much later when Tony snapped the lights off to snuggle into the little spoon position.  He felt blissed out in a good way, his body well loved, and for the first time in a long while, his soul felt at peace, content to lie in Tom’s arms.

Tom dropped a kiss on his shoulder.  “Interesting tattoo,” he murmured.

Tony hummed, half asleep.  He didn’t have a tattoo.

Tom’s fingers drew letters as though he was tracing something on Tony’s skin.  “’Take me up,’” he whispered.  “I like it.”

Tony slipped into sleep.

Cadoc batted him awake.

Tony’s eyes snapped awake as the paw struck his nose again.  He just stopped himself from full body flinching away from the glowing green cats’ eyes that stared at him from his bedside table.  He glanced behind him to find Tom deeply asleep sharing Tony’s pillow, his arm still loosely around Tony’s waist, a hand splayed over his stomach.

Cadoc jumped down and looked pointedly at Tony.

Tony inwardly sighed and cursed the cat.  He knew better than to do it out loud.  He slowly shifted out of Tom’s embrace, hating the rush of cold air that came with leaving the bed, hating the loss of Tom’s comfort even more.

He deftly pulled on sweatpants and a t-shirt before following Cadoc out of the rooms and down to the main hallway.

The grandfather clock struck four chimes as he passed it, still following the cat through the house.  A light spilled out into the corridor from his uncle’s study. 

Tony approached carefully although Cadoc bounded happily into the room.  

His uncle sat behind his desk, a mug of something in his hands which he stared into morosely.

Tony coughed lightly.

Clive looked up, startled.  His expression cleared immediately when he laid eyes on Tony.  He raised both his eyebrows.  “Who ratted me out this time?”

“The cat,” Tony said honestly.  “You just back?”

Clive nodded.  “Chris is staying with his father.”  His face crumpled.  “Crispian…he has lost so much.”

“He’ll recover,” Tony said firmly, taking the same seat he’d occupied the day before. 

“I should have known,” Clive said sadly.  “I should have seen what she was doing.” He laughed humourlessly.  “I should have realised Lottie was not who she said she was.”

“Morgana is an ancient Fae who has walked the Earth for centuries,” Tony said firmly.  “She fooled a lot of people.  Don’t blame yourself, Uncle Clive.”

“I’m meant to be the Grand Wizard,” Clive said simply.  “What kind of Grand Wizard am I that I cannot sense this treachery?”  He sighed heavily.  “My lovely Hannah and I tried for years for children and yet I never considered a magical reason for our failure.”  He shook his head.

Tony hummed thoughtfully.  “My mother struggled to have a child, didn’t she?”

Clive’s eyes snapped to him.

“I was thinking about it earlier,” Tony said quietly, not quite ready to put into words what he had deduced.

“She wanted a child so very badly,” Clive said, the air heavy with the sense of confession.  “She knew the family secrets because none of us could keep them from her.  She was…” he sighed again.  “She was much loved, and much spoiled.”

“She took a magical object and created me in ritual,” Tony said the words out loud as though testing the reality of them.  They tasted bitter in his mouth.

Clive held his gaze.  “She did.”

Tony looked up to the ceiling, his heart heavy with the truth.  “That’s why Casper has never liked me.”

“That’s less to do with you, dear boy, and more to do with Casper’s anger at your mother for the object she took,” Clive said.

“Excalibur,” Tony said.  “She stole Excalibur to make me.”  Sword of Magic.

Clive shrugged.  “If Excalibur hadn’t wanted to be used, the sword would never have let itself be taken.  Excalibur is no ordinary sword.”

A golden sword; one that had manifested in Tony’s hand because its magic ran through every part of Tony’s body.

“’Take me up,’” he repeated.  He looked over at his uncle.  “Apparently I have a new tattoo.” 

“Some elements of the magic transferred,” Clive said.  His eyes suddenly shone with amusement.  “I take it you’ve found a worthy knight to wield you.”

Tony blushed so hard he could feel the heat in his cheeks.  “Uncle!”

“Agent Black’s car is outside,” Clive said mildly.  “I assume it is he?”

Tony nodded, willing the blush away.  “We’re…we’re together.”

Clive smiled.  “I’m pleased for you, Tony.”

Tony registered his uncle’s tiredness again and stood up.  “Come on.  I’ll walk you up to your rooms.”

Clive huffed even as he set his mug down and got to his feet.  “I can…”

“Manage by yourself, I know,” Tony completed cheerfully.  “But as I’m here…”

Clive caught Tony’s arm, held his gaze again.  “I know your life is in the States, but will you stay?  Just for a while?  I think we…I need you here, Tony.”

Tony covered his uncle’s hand on his arm and squeezed gently.  He’d already made the decision earlier that day after Casper had noted he was needed with his family, when he’d realised he wanted something solid and real with Tom.  He still had no idea how he was going to tell Gibbs, but his decision was made.

“I’ll stay, Uncle Clive.”

Chapter Text

Wind stirred his fur as Cadoc ran through the woods, the hard earth beneath his feet still frosted with winter’s fog.  He broke through the trees into the grove with the oak tree and halted at the sight of his wizard and his chosen knight.  He preened inwardly at his success at tracking Tony down.

Tony was kissing Tom, slow and easy as though they had all the time in the world.

Cadoc was pleased to see Tony relaxed and happy. 

Cadoc had decided not to return to his hibernation.  It had been a long time since he’d stayed longer than the time taken to solve the problem he’d woken to tackle, but Tony’s magic was warm and familiar.

More importantly, Cadoc liked Tony.

He did not like the fish which had become part of Tony’s rooms.  He made a habit of sitting beside the bowl and simply staring at the gold shiny stinky thing as it swam in stupid circles.  He would never harm it though; to harm the fish would be to harm Tony and that was unacceptable.

“Happy New Year to you too,” Tony said breathlessly to Tom.

Tom dropped another kiss on his lips.  “Happy New Year.”

Cadoc bounded over and rubbed insistently against Tony’s legs, a chiding meow escaping him.

“I think that’s our cue to head back,” Tony murmured.  “I think Clive wanted us all to spend some time together before the meal.”

Tom nodded. 

They walked with their hands easily clasped between them, both of them foregoing the necessity of gloves in favour of skin contact.

The manor looked inviting.  The Christmas lights still decorated the windows, shining green, red and white. 

Cadoc raced ahead of his chosen and through the newly installed cat door in the old tradesmen’s entrance.

Alice shooed him out of the kitchen and Cadoc wound his way to the main living room where the rest of the Paddington family waited.

Casper and James sat at a side table, a chessboard between them. 

Cadoc sniffed.

The dog was losing.  Centuries of strategy in its head and it still lost.  James turned around and winked at Cadoc.  Of course it would pretend it was losing on purpose. 

Cadoc huffed and headed for the sofa.  Chris obligingly shifted when Cadoc pushed at his legs, swinging them down to sit rather than sprawl over the cushions.

“Tony, you should tell your cat I’m allowed to lie on the sofa!” Chris called out as Tony entered the room with Tom a step behind him.

Tony looked at Cadoc.  Cadoc looked back at him.

“Yeah, you’re on your own with that,” Tony said, accepting a cup of mulled wine from Clive, before ushering Tom over to the empty sofa opposite.

Cadoc purred; he had trained his wizard well.

Crispian cleared his throat from the stuffed armchair next to his son.  He was seemingly immersed in a book, but his eyes kept straying to his son.  “Did you tell Agent Black you were going to speak to that girl today?”

Cadoc flicked his ear, unhappy at the idea Chris was talking to Beth.  She might have told them a lot in the end, but she had still worked with Morgana.

Chris scowled at his father.  “It’s none of his business.”

“He’s right,” Tom spoke up before Crispian could argue.  “And I’m Tom here.”

Crispian huffed.  “Are you going to say the same, cousin?”

Tony lowered his mug.  “It’s your son’s business.”

“But you’re worried!” Crispian pointed triumphantly at Tony.

Cadoc mused on the fact that Crispian without his memories was still a prat; that hadn’t changed unfortunately.

“I’m sure Chris will do the right thing to protect himself and the family,” Tony said diplomatically.

“Thank you!” Chris said, raising his own mug in Tony’s direction.  “And for the record, I’m not getting back together with her…I just wanted some closure.”

Crispian subsided, hunching into the armchair and pointedly raising the book he held.

“There’s no hope then, dear boy?” asked James.

Chris shook his head.  “I can’t trust her.”

“Well, New Year, new beginnings,” Clive said sitting down in the second armchair in the grouping.  “Speaking of which, Tony, I’d be happy to help you find somewhere to live in London before you start at MI7 in a few weeks’ time.”

“Me too,” Chris offered immediately. 

Cadoc purred his appreciation loudly.

“Thanks,” Tony said.  “I may need some help narrowing down the options.”

“I still can’t believe NCIS agreed to have you operate as a liaison to MI7,” Tom remarked.

Tony shrugged.  “The Secretary of the Navy saw the benefits of the relationship.”  He waggled his eyebrows at his knight.

Cadoc kept purring even as James whistled.

“I’m just glad to have you here,” Clive said firmly.

“Hear, hear,” Casper said. 

Tony smiled brightly, the magic that ran through his veins almost giving him a golden glow.  His phone buzzed in his pocket and he excused himself to take the call.

Cadoc slid off the sofa and followed his wizard.

Tony looked out of the corridor window at the woodland as he held the phone to his ear.  “Boss.”

“Not your boss anymore, DiNozzo,” Gibbs’ voice sounded out of the tiny phone speaker, but Cadoc could hear him clearly.

“You’ll always be Boss to me, Boss,” Tony quipped.  He sobered a touch.  “How are things?”

“Ducky insisted on drinks at his place to ring in the New Year,” Gibbs replied, “his mother called Abby a witch and tried seducing Fornell.”

Tony chuckled warmly.  “That’s quite an image.”  He hesitated before continuing.  “You know Ziva wasn’t your fault?”

“No?” Gibbs said roughly.  “I was the one who fell for her act.  Vance told me she played me killing Ari, and she did.  She didn’t even deny it when we confronted her with the rest of her spying before shipping her back to Israel.”

“At least she’s not Morgana,” offered Tony, still attempting to comfort his mentor.

Gibbs huffed out a chuckle.  “There’s that.”  He cleared his throat.  “Your knight treating you well, Tony?”

“He’s…” Tony blushed again, “he’s good for me, Gibbs.”

“Call me Jethro,” suggested Gibbs.  “And good; tell him he’ll answer to me if he’s not.”

“I think even Uncle Casper gave him a shovel talk already,” Tony said, sounding adorably confused about that turn of events.  He didn’t know about the talk Cadoc had given Tom which had consisted of sitting on the knight and shoving his claws close to a certain area of his anatomy; the clever agent had gotten the message.

“Good,” Gibbs said.  “You deserve this, Anthony.  You’re the best agent I’ve worked with and I’m proud of you.”

Cadoc saw the gleam of tears in Tony’s eyes, the way he rapidly swallowed against a lump in his throat.

“Guess my gut was right, but I hate losing you,” Gibbs continued.

“We’ll still be friends,” Tony said urgently, “that doesn’t change, Jethro.  You need me, you call me.”

“Same here,” Gibbs said, “door’s always open.”

There was a beat of silence between them; acceptance, Cadoc recognised for the change that was happening.

“Happy New Year, Tony,” Gibbs said softly.

“Happy New Year, Boss,” Tony replied.

The call ended.

Tony took a moment to take a breath.  Cadoc bumped his head against his leg, offering his own comfort and was pleased when Tony reached down to stroke him.

“Come on, Cadoc,” Tony said, “let’s get back to the family.”

His wizard really did have the best ideas, Cadoc mused as they made their way into the warmth of the living room.  Tony curled into Tom’s side, their hands sliding together as they snuggled. 

Cadoc headed back to the other sofa, shoving at Chris’ legs until he grumbled and gave up the spot again.  He glanced around the room.  The dog had lost and a new game was in progress; Crispian was pretending to read his book and Clive was snoozing in his armchair. 

Returning to Avalon was a long way off, Cadoc thought as he groomed his fur into place and curled into his favourite sleeping position, but adopting Tony in the meantime was a good decision, a very good decision.  Myrddin would definitely approve.

Fin.