It didn’t take long for Natasha's story to spread throughout Cair Paravel.

At this point, the female avenger would receive looks from by passers. Even that one centaur who never even once talked to her or even do a double take on her, would make way for her and gave her a nod of respect.

The faun who patrolled around the castle smiled at her warmly, just as he always did, yet his eyes shone differently when he looked at her.

It was awkward, yet Natasha kept her face straight and walked just the way she used to towards the dining hall. No one actually interrupted her until a female badger blocked her way and took her hand in her furry ones.

“My lady, if I may,” the female badger with shining beady eyes approached her, “If it weren’t for you, many would’ve died two days ago. The king. And my husband,” she sighed, her small eyes glassed over, “My cubs would’ve been fatherless and the kingdom…” she seemed to think about it, before proceeding with uncertainty, “…kingless.”

Natasha only smiled at her kindly. “It’s no problem at all. I happened to be on the site so…”

“That is no coincidence. You are sent by Aslan. I knew it in my heart since the first time I saw you walking these halls. It was like looking at one of the Queens of Old,” she said with reverence in her eyes.

“That’s too kind–“

“–The lady doesn’t take compliments well,” chirped Zari as the male lovebird landed on Natasha's shoulder out of nowhere, “Where she comes from, she is a warrior! Feared by her enemies, loved by her people! She ruled with strength on her left hand,” Zari spread out his left wing, “and with merciful kindness on her right hand!” declared the lovebird as he spread his colorful right wing as if to make his dramatic point.

Natasha chuckled when she saw the awestruck look on the badger's face. “He’s kidding,” Natasha rolled her eyes at Zari. “I never rule anyone,” the redhead raised her brow at Zari who chuckled amusedly at himself.

Lucky for her, Zari was already a very talkative creature, so before the situation got too awkward, the bird had already took away the female's badger's attention. He eventually landed on the badger's head and away they went on their chatty conversation.

Natasha rarely showed up for a meal at the dining hall as she preferred eating in the safety of her room or with the professor. But today, she was invited by Trumpkin on a so called 'state matter', and she knew she just had to come if only to get more information of what’s going on with Narnia post the attack.

Avoiding the crowd, the female sat herself on a long table at the corner where it was less crowded. Staring at the assortment of fruit salad and the cheese sandwich she made for herself, she realized that she was the only one who had her cheese placed between two breads.

Natasha sighed inwardly. No matter how old she got or where she was, she would always be that one person that didn’t belong–and maybe that was how she got so good at her job. She knew how to not get too attached on anyone.

Until Clint. He also never fit anywhere. Then they both didn’t belong, and together, it was okay.

She hoped he was okay.

Natasha took the butter knife and sliced her sandwich diagonally, then ate it just the way she always used to. She remembered surviving on sandwich alone for months because she was too lethargic to actually make or buy real food after she had found out that there was no way to bring everybody back after Thanos the first time.

What if they failed? What if they couldn’t bring everybody back?

The thought distressed Natasha enough that she took a bigger, emotional bite at her innocent diagonally-cut sandwich.

“Stress eating much?”

She looked up to see Caspian's half smirk as he pulled the chair in front of her and put down the plate that he had filled with quite a hefty amount of bacon and eggs. Natasha returned his teasing with one of her own as she chewed her food.

“Shouldn’t you be seated at the royal high table instead rather be with a peasant like me?” she said in her sing song voice.

“I want to see how my peasant friend is doing,” he replied with his charming smile that somewhat warmed her stomach.

“Clearly your friend is fine,” she answered easily, then pushed her plate towards him, offering her untouched half sandwich. “Sandwich?” she said, hiding her smirk, knowing that now he wouldn’t ever have to accept that offer.

They locked eyes, then against Natasha's prediction, Caspian took the sandwich and bit on it like a champ. That made Natasha laugh.

“Still too much bread,” Caspian mumbled. He then proceeded to drop some of his eggs and bacons to her plate, just like the way he often did when they would eat together with the professor at his study.

That made Natasha felt slightly uncomfortable, knowing that sitting with the king and sharing food with him in the safety of professor’s study was one thing, but the gesture done in open was something that was probably too intimate for public eyes.

Intimate–was that what they are?

As if reading the look in her ocean blue eyes, Caspian pushed the plate closer to her. “Stop thinking. I’ll eat your sandwich while you eat some of that. I know birds who eat more than you do.”

“I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen you in the dining hall,” a gruff voice that belonged to Trumpkin cut her before she could respond to Caspian. She watched as the dwarf took a seat in next to the handsome king in front of her, their height a contrast that she secretly found rather amusing at the dining table.

“She doesn’t get out much,” replied Caspian for her. “That’s about to change.”

Looking at both the king and his advisor, Natasha was able to draw a conclusion. The redhead turned to Trumpkin. “So when you said that this is a state matter, you meant that for real and not just for the sake of getting my opinion.”

“No. That’s why King Caspian is here. So will Drinian.”

“Ohh. What have I gotten myself into?” Natasha sighed dramatically.

“Please. You’re enjoying this,” Caspian smiled in amusement at her.

“Maybe.”

Just then Drinian joined them and sat next to Natasha as he too, had his own breakfast. Their light conversation soon turned towards the lord that they captured the night he ambushed Cair Paravel.

“So did Lord Teshran finally decide to say anything?”

“Unfortunately no, your majesty. I can’t get more out of him while having to be careful to not touch him,” Drinian replied with disagreement in his voice.

“He is still a lord and he should be regarded to as such despite what he had committed,” responded Caspian coolly.

“He tried to kill you,” pointed out Trumpkin grumpily at Caspian, “All of us.”

“We are honorable people and we should not get to lower our level to his. He will get what he deserves at the trial. He will eventually give up.”

“I should’ve wrung his neck when I get the chance,” Natasha said casually as she chewed on her bacon. The three males looked at her weird, and the redhead shrugged. “I’m not always honorable like his majesty,” she looked at Caspian, “This is no time for honor.”

“Well we have to make time for politics,” Caspian retorted, “He still is a respected figure in Narrowhaven. Sending him home beaten up and fingerless is not going to do Narnia any favor.”

At that, everyone else in the circle fell into silence.

“You tried your way, Drinian,” Natasha began, breaking the silence, “What if I can make him talk without having to cut any fingers or mess his hair?” the spy assassin suggested.

Trumpkin took a sip of his water and smiled slyly. “And that’s why I brought you into the matter.”

***

King Caspian, Trumpkin and Drinian stood each in their fine royal attire as they waited by the highest point of the castle. Natasha couldn’t help but sneakily adore the way the wind blew past Caspian' dark hair and against his shirt. He was lean yet muscular–

Natasha looked away, realizing that she began to think like a woman and not like a spy. It was a mistake, one that could cause her life, or the mission. So she looked away and instead focused her sharp eyes towards the approaching party.

Lord Teshran showed up in his chains, flanked by a satyr and a faun, still with his sandy hair and his playboy smirk, unmoved or even seemed troubled at all despite how unkempt and dirty his clothes were. Right then Natasha knew that the young lord played his status well. He knew he was untouchable; and he played politics well.

Caspian looked at Natasha and their eyes met in understanding.

“Stop right there,” commanded Caspian, signaling the guards to stand just near the edge of the tower, where a bunch of long, thick ropes used as a means to transport water and other necessities from the lower level of the castle hung. “Leave us,” signaled Caspian to the guards flanking Lord Teshran.

Now the female assassin had placed herself slightly behind Caspian, her expression void of any emotion as she glanced at a passing hawk flying overhead while Caspian and Teshran were seemingly at a silent staring competition. A scoff from the young lord as he glanced behind him, to the deep plunge to the ground.

“Well? To what do I owe your majesty's visit?” he asked with a smug, condescending grin at Caspian.

The king's eyes darkened; yet despite the utter preposterousness im how the young lord regarded him, Caspiam decided to take the higher road. “I’ll give you one last chance to speak.”

“I do not want to talk.”

“Would you talk to me?” Natasha cut, her voice slightly sultry as she gave him her flirtatious smirk.

Caspian suddenly found his blood simmering with displeasure at hearing the flirtatious tone that his female friend had. And the gaze that Lord Teshran had over his friend was far from gentlemanly. “Eyes up here,” ordered Caspian coldly.

“Give me a night with the lady and we’ll talk–“

Before Lord Teshran could finish his sentence, Caspian already had both his fist around his collar, shoving him slightly to the edge.

If I could just shove him down and let him die, I could simply enforce my prerogative royal rights to defend myself. I could get away with this. It is no political complication that my house can’t handle, mulled Caspian inside his head.

“What? You want to throw me from the top of your castle?” sneered Teshran, “I’d hate to ruin that beautiful linoleum in your royal Narnian court. Besides, that’s not your style.”

Jaw clenched, Caspian's hold tightened around his collar that the young lord seemed almost lifted off the ground. Then out of the blue Caspian loosen his hold and took a deep breath. From where Natasha stood, she smiled, seeing the hidden relief behind that shit eating grin that the young lord gave Caspian.

Caspian made a move as if to straighten the collar of Teshran's now dirtied tunic, “No, you’re right. It’s not my style,” he clapped his shoulder once, “It’s hers.”

Once Caspian turned his face away from him, Natasha took his place and reached out for the chains that hung behind Teshran and roughly shove the young lord back. He shrieked, but before he could fall fifty feet down to his death, Natasha held him by his ankle and wrapped the chains around it before letting him go.

The avenger ignored the sounds of his high pitched scream as she pulled at the chain and hooked it at a nearby counter weight made of stone–enough to support the lanky man's weight.

Happy with how the young lord hung upside down by his ankle, Natasha pulled out a small knife. But before she could use it on him, Caspian grabbed her hand, stopping her.

“What on earth are you thinking you’re doing?” Caspian glared at her and her knife, bewildered.

“Trust me. I’ll keep my word, I won’t ruin his pretty face,” with a contemplating look, Caspian finally let her go and watched her a distance away.

Natasha nicked a spot on Teshran's hairline with the tip of the sharp dagger as the man wiggled helplessly, blood slipping down his head in a small yet steady current.

Trumpkin let out a silent gasp and was exchanging an alarmed look with Drinian, yet seeing their king stood back, he too decided to wait and see how things pan out.

Teshran cursed. “Damn you you witch!” he wailed. Natasha let the man cursed some more and yelled at her for a while as she saw his blood dripping past his now bloodied blond hair.

“Do you feel it yet? The slight dizziness and the growing fatigue?” Natasha questioned, “The incision on your hairline is just barely a nick, but with the way blood rushes down to your head because of gravity... I’ll say you have around half an hour before you go to sleep.”

Natasha saw how the movement of his chest had become uneven now, panicking. Good.

“No one will find that nick. No one will know what happened to you. You just… died. Alone, in that dungeon. We didn’t even touch you,” she crouched down and leaned down towards his ear, “No one would know. By the time we take your body down there will not be even a drop of blood on your shirt.”

Drinian couldn’t take it anymore. This was murder–not an honorable one.  He chastised her, “Natasha–!“

“–No one would know!” she snapped back at him, giving him a wink, then turned her head back towards the hanging man, “…That unless you decide on telling us who is behind the attack and why. You now have twenty eight minutes, give or take.”

“I will never talk! Over my dead body!” He yelled back, a series of curses escaped Lord Teshran's mouth.

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Suit yourself,” she said, standing up and walk away from him.

In five minutes, the smug lord was a heap of crying mess.

“You have no idea what you’re up against. He’ll kill me for this,” Lord Teshran trembled. “The king of Calormen is a sadistic dictator. He’ll wage war on all lands and take Narnia for himself. You’ll die, I’ll die, and no one would be smart enough to hide or strong enough to face his men. The Hassansins left no one alive,” he confessed with fright and doom in his voice, “Lord Bern is dead. He’s long gone before he had a chance to let you know that even then, the Calormen has secretly taken over the Lone Islands, and they’re now hiding behind the reign of all the lords and officials in there. None of us can afford to keep our loyalty to Narnia anymore. You have no idea,” he sobbed, half angry, “He killed my father. He’ll kill me. He’ll kill you too…”

By the time they took him down, there was a tension hanging in the air at the realization of how bigger this really was.

Looking annoyed, and traumatized by his almost death experience hanging by his ankle, Lord Teshran glared at Natasha and Caspian, his lips white and pale.

“War is coming.”

***

[Author's Note: Ugh I’m so rusty. I’m sorry for the late update. I didn’t even have the chance to proofread this. So sorry about that! Review?]