[Author's Note: The music on the link is my chosen soundtrack for this fluff with Caspian. Enjoy!]

***

The comforting smell of the old, musty books and leather filled Natasha's nose as she climbed up the small, wooden ladder to return the royal journal that Professor Cornelius had finished reading the other night. The femme fatale red head, having the burden of keeping her identity a secret off of her shoulders, was now more free to dress as herself.

The assassin no longer bother herself to wear dresses that the women typically wear at this age, or in Narnia for that matter. She began wearing pants and a pair of comfortable boots topped with slightly loose tunic fastened around her middle with leather bodice–not just because it accentuated her form in a way that she always liked, but because the leather corset was a perfect place for her to sheath her knives without being conspicuous at all.

Well–the medieval bodice was not conspicuous. But the rest of her, the pants, the way she walked so straight with an unexplainable confidence; watchful, mysterious blue eyes–one glance, and everyone who looked at her would know that she was no average woman.

“Is this how I’m going to see you from now on?” a familiar timbre, soothing voice that belonged to Caspian made Natasha smiled to herself.

The female glanced at the handsome king from behind her shoulder and smiled rather teasingly. “Does your majesty do not approve of my attire?” she chirped with a flirty tone that Caspian knew now as her way of being playful before returning to her task arranging the books to return to its shelves alphabetically.

Voice as smooth as honey and a crooked smile that promises nothing good, sighed Caspian inwardly, Does she even know what it does to a man?

Caspian was feeling guilty for ogling her form, even for just a polite, non offensive once-over from Natasha's point of view. The young king chose to lean against the door frame with arms folded in front of his broad chest, his eyes looking away from her to the many books on his old tutor's collection. Absently brushing his short, neat beard, Caspian shrugged. “I have to admit you wear pants better than most men. Even me.”

Natasha smirked at him at his response. “Not necessarily,” she mumbled.

The dark haired man heard it. He chuckled, “What was that?”

“Nothing,” Natasha smiled secretively to herself, amused.

“So why the sudden fashion change?”

“What we learned about a week ago about the Calormen… I just want to be ready for anything. I figured I better stop wearing confining dresses, plus this is the closest way to how I would dress back then,” Natasha got the ladder and faced the King of Narnia, seeing the subtle hesitation in his gaze as his dark eyes met hers. Had she wasn’t more observant than others, she would’ve missed it. “You don’t like the way I dress?” she concluded.

Caspian looked mildly surprised and shook his head. “No, not at all. I wasn’t lying when I said that you wear pants better than I do,” he covered up with a playful remark of his own. But Natasha’s curiosity was piqued because of his response, and decided to find out what exactly was in his mind.

“But that’s not what you have in mind,” she hummed thoughtfully. “If you have something to say, go on and tell me. It’s okay. Do I look off somehow?” Natasha inquired, now starting to suspect that she might be violating a fashion trend in Narnia.

“No,” Caspian quickly replied, “You look beautiful, whatever you wear,” he said with conviction, an innocent truth that sent a smile on the Black Widow's pretty face.

“But?”

Had Caspian know another woman whom she was close to, he would’ve chosen to mildly mention to them instead. Women to women, he figured, would have no trouble relaying his concerns instead of him speaking about it directly to her. It was a rather uncomfortable subject to him, yet he’d rather be a little uncomfortable now than letting her suffer if he didn’t speak up–at least he had to alert her.

“It would be swell if you can pull out the ends of your tunic and place it over your pants instead of tucking it underneath it.”

Natasha frowned, finding his answer slightly underwhelming.

“That is only my suggestion. You’re a person of your own,” Caspian clarified quickly as soon as he saw her expression. “You can wear whatever you want.”

That unease in the young king’s expression seemed more pronounced now as he feared offending the female. Natasha began to smile in half amusement, half curiosity. “But?” she dragged the question, grinning at Caspian’s growing unease at a seemingly innocent subject to her. “Why?”

After a soft, encouraging look from Natasha, the dark haired king gave in. “Because if don’t tuck it in, then the shape of your form would not be so pronounced to the others,” he explained gently with a bit of a smile. “Not all men in Narnia is honorable. Not even in these halls.”

There was a certain warmth that seeped through the crevices of Natasha’s heart the moment she heard his explanation.

Caspian was trying to protect her honor. No one ever bothered, knowing what kind of past she had; the things she had to do for the sake of her missions–whatever it takes.

“Oh,” she chuckled, “Thanks. I didn’t quite think about that. Where I was from, this was considered decent.”

Natasha proceeded to untucked her tunic from under her pants before smoothing out the ruffles on the material. She looked up at Caspian, “Better?”

The king visibly more relaxed as he saw the untucked tunic that now was hanging to the female's mid thigh. “Perfect,” he said with a gentle smile; one that made the edge of his eyes wrinkled with kindness and sincerity.

The two of them locked eyes, reluctant to take their eyes off of each other just yet, until an old, cheery voice calling from behind the door from the other side of the study.

Natasha chuckled at hearing the professor's muffled voice as he complained about the door knob that still didn’t work quite right after that other night of the attack when Natasha locked him inside by breaking the handle to keep him safe. The red headed woman peered to the side from Caspian's form, calling back, “Coming, professor!”

She then turned her ocean blue eyes at Caspian’s dark ones and smiled at him. Placing her hand on his left shoulder, she stood on her tiptoes and planted a soft kiss on his cheek before walking past him to rescue the professor.

Caspian had his heart stopped for a time the moment he felt her soft lips against his cheek. Still dazed from her touch, it took the young king a moment to gather his wit before returning Professor Cornelius' greetings properly.

***

“I thought the Council said that I can ask one favor from Narnia for saving your life. Why the change of heart now?” Natasha questioned unhappily.

“Because what you asked for is one hell of a favor. You can ask for gold, a mansion, a field–whatever, but this is you asking to be recruited as one of the unit of the Royal Guard. It is no place for just any people,” Trumpkin answered just as unhappily he wiped off his red beard from remaining cookie crumbs. “Between you and me of course we know that you’re not just some people, but the Council is old school, with you being female and all.”

The female avenger shook her head to herself before turning her sharp eyes to her friend. “I need to get into your military inner circle soon, Caspian. We are running out of time. The moment we heard back from the Calormen Empire you might have to march to battle right away.”

Caspian had conflicted feelings with Natasha’s concern. “The council needs more convincing,” he replied rather flatly. “Look, I am grateful that you saved my life not once, but twice that night of the attack, but getting into the Royal Guard for the sole purpose of going into a war with me–“ Caspian shook his head doubtfully. “You are one of my few cherished friends; I’d rather that you keep safe in Cair Paravel. After all, you’ve served your mission. You kept me alive this far.”

“No,” Natasha refused stubbornly, “That night was just the beginning. I know it now. This is not over yet.”

“We need to think of a way that would convince the Council that Natasha's presence would contribute something,” the professor chirped before sipping on his tea and adjusted his round spectacles over the bridge of his wrinkly nose, “We need to come up with something strong that the council can’t deny. Perhaps we should mention about Aslan?”

“Sure. Good luck mentioning Aslan to the council members whose majority never even laid their eyes on the Great Lion,” scoffed the red headed dwarf.

“I might have other idea,” Natasha announced with a calculating gaze in her eyes as she looked at Caspian, “And I’ll need your help.”

King Caspian didn’t show it, but albeit reluctantly, he nodded at her. “What do you need?”

To Caspian’s amusement, the smirk that appeared on Natasha's face was one that truly promised real trouble; one that he was torn between wanting and not wanting to find out what kind of ideas she had under her red head.

***

[Author's Note: Too lazy to proofread. Review?]