“I don’t know what your plans are. But whatever the outcome, don’t sweat it too much. Caspian and I will still be able to let you in on everything that’s going on,” Trumpkin said with next to no excitement. The dwarf knew that the Royal Council was still incredibly nepotistic, and the red head, despite her service of saving their precious king, still would be having much trouble getting in the inner circle of the Royal Guards. It was a unit held in high esteem; a place made for the noblest knights and lords only. A woman had never had a place in such prestigious club–or cult, as Trumpkin would refer to it.

The skeptical dwarf looked up at Natasha as they walked together to the Royal Court. Trumpkin had not a small amount of respect towards the practical woman who only had a slight sadistic vibe about her at times. There was more that the femme fatale could offer the kingdom, and though getting her into the Royal Guards was next to impossible, he couldn’t help but be hopeful. There was a first in everything, thought Trumpkin to himself. A sigh escaped him. “If you can’t get in, we’ll find another way. We’re not going to battle without you. I’ll make sure of that.”

An amused smile played at Natasha's lips. “If they won’t take me, think you could smuggle me in as Caspian’s cup bearer or something?”

That caused the dwarf to chuckle. They both knew that Caspian only drink socially, and even then, the young king despised being pampered as he should’ve been.

“If I have to,” snickered Trumpkin.

Shaking her head, Natasha's amusement began to evaporate, leaving only determination at its wake. “That still wouldn’t do. A cup bearer won’t be let in into the strategy meetings and other juicy stuff,” frowned the former Russian spy. “I have to get in there.”

Trumpkin sighed again, but said no more as he pushed open the door to the Royal Court with both of his short yet dense arms.

Seated at the head of the table was King Caspian; his expression neutral yet there was a tension in his jaw. Despite that, the young king managed to gave her and her dwarf friend a nod to which she returned with a nod of her own. The rest of the Royal Council were seated at either side of Caspian's. The seats were dominated by former Telmar men. Their eyes were calculating as she entered, some looked utterly bored already. Others didn’t even bother to look at her. But the minority of those who seated at the Royal Council who are Narnians, the talking beasts–there were a look of fondness and attention in their eyes as they looked at her.

The female avenger didn’t understand the depth of affection that the original Narnians showed her, other than the fact that it reflected how much of the Royal Council she could win with the argument that she had well prepared in her head.

Seeing the rest of the members of the Royal Council, she already knew that no matter how convincing her argument would be, it still would mean nothing and it would never be enough to earn her a place in the Royal Guard.

“Lady Natasha. It is good to see you today,” a middle aged man with a slightly greyed beard greet her in a flat, business-like tone that were void of warmth. Her mind was reeling despite the neutral expression on her pretty face. With the odds before her, she had to improvise if she were ever to try to complete the mission that Aslan gave her. “As you know, you have ten minutes to present your case before the king and the Royal Council. Please begin.”

“Thank you,” said Natasha with a polite smile, mirroring the tone in which she was spoken to. “I’m here to call upon your court's honor.”

Her words immediately caused a visible response from the members of the court. The men sitting at their place unconsciously sat straighter, somewhat triggered by the straightforward words spoken softly by the female.

Natasha on purposely shifted from one foot to the other and glanced at her feet, feigning a slight vulnerability. At this point the female assassin thought that it was best to gain their sympathy rather than appearing as someone who would demand so harshly.

“I know that my request in return to saving the king’s life was probably not something that I can get that easy–“

“The place at the Royal Guard is earned, not gifted,” the middle aged man cut her speech, speaking to her in an official, mildly disapproving manner, with a frown gracing his expression. On her peripheral vision, she saw Trumpkin rolled his eyes at the statement, and had she wasn’t being at the center of attention right now, she would’ve snickered at Trumpkin's attitude. “Had you asked for money, a house, a land, or a tax freedom, surely the kingdom will see it done.”

Natasha thought her eyes had deceived her, but at this, Caspian visibly relaxed. Why?

“Maybe I can ask for something else instead.”

This time, curiosity flashed in Caspian’s eyes. “What do you want, Natasha?” he asked, but before she could answer, the king continued, “May I suggest a better way to thank you for your loyalty to the throne of Narnia? A ladyship, and a handsome monthly offering from the treasury of Narnia for life. After all, you are my friend, and you will bear a title befitting that. You will also be set for life and as long as I am king I will make sure of that.”

There were echoes of agreement and approval sounded across the gigantic room. And they all translated to one thing to Natasha:

Betrayal.

Caspian never wanted her to be in the Royal Guard, she realized. She glanced at Trumpkin, who looked just as lost as she felt, and knew that the dwarf didn’t play her as Caspian did. It angered Natasha that Caspian led her on to think that he will support her mission in keeping him safe. But despite the murderous thoughts that entered the assassin's head, she kept the shy smile that she plastered on her face.

“That is most kind and generous,” she praised, letting him know with her eyes that she was not all thrilled about his deception. “But there is something else that I yearned the most. That is–to be heard. What I ask for in return is an audience.”

Another man with a long, white hair and beard lifted his jeweled hands in the air as if in question. “An audience? Young lady, most people would kill to have what the king has offered.”

“All I’m asking for is an hour. Not more.”

“Ten minutes is not enough for you, is it?” one of the member of the court chirped and some laughter erupted across the member of the Royal Council.

“Silence,” Caspian commanded, and in an instant the room once again returned to its usual solemnity. “What would be the purpose of this audience that you requested, Natasha?”

“A game.”

“We have no time for games.”

“Surely an hour of your time is worth nothing compared to what I have done for the kingdom, if it is worth anything to you at all.”

The members of the court now looked at one another with confusion and annoyance at the request.

The Royal Council once again erupted into hushed voice and chatter, until the middle aged man who sat two chairs away from Caspian answered.

“Then your request shall be granted. Inform us of the time and place, at least a week before date so we can all arrange it in our schedules,” he declared flatly. “Is there anything else that we have to bring in this…game of yours? Some tea and biscuits to nibble perhaps?”

There were chuckles and some condescending snickers exchanged among the members of the Royal Council at this remark. Natasha smiled. “No need, my lord. I’ll prepare them for you. The only thing you must bring is some member of your best Royal Guard units. They will greatly enhance the game,” she said with a secretive smile. “Thank you all for your time.”

***

“What the hell is your problem, Caspian?”

Caspian turned to her sharply. “Don’t speak to me in that tone,” he reprimanded her rather coldly.

As a king, Natasha noted.

The redhead, though pissed, still able to maintain the reign on herself enough to not let Caspian's tone get to her. She took a deep breath.

“Forgive me, your majesty. I got carried away,” she replied again, this time in a gentler manner.

Caspian turned away at the title that she now used on him and sulked. He busied himself stoking the fire in Professor Cornelius' fireplace.

“I’m doing this for you. I don’t understand why you don’t support me and led me on to think that you do.”

“I have a change of heart,” Caspian answered curtly.

“No you don’t. You’ve never wanted me in in the first place. If you do you could just make it happen in a flick of your finger. You’re a king.”

“I could. But I have my reasons not to use that right,” he said as he got up from his crouching position to face the redhead. “Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I do not want your protection?”

Natasha was baffled at his question. “You don’t?”

Caspian studied the surprise on her face. Her lips parted slightly, ocean eyes widened, seemingly liquid as it reflected the light of the dancing fire. There was a certain innocence and a lost look in way she regarded him, and immediately, whatever anger he had towards her began to dissipate. He let out a soft sigh.

“Sit down, Natasha.”

She did as he told and watched as Caspian too, seated himself on an old chair that belonged to his old tutor. He fixed his dark eyes at her; they were, to Natasha, mysterious and somewhat violent–but not evil. She watched as he folded one leg over the other as he made himself comfortable.

He looked as regal and graceful as ever. His form strong and emanated authority, even as he sat in a perfect stillness. The shadow that was formed by the amber light from the fireplace accentuated the creases and lines on the edge of his eyes and lips; somehow they added character to his already handsome face. The golden crown that was still sitting neatly on his head added a majestic air and benevolence about him, though with all its glory comes another burden–the weight of the world in his shoulders.

Natasha rarely saw him in that way, but at the moment she felt a deep sympathy for him.

So majestic. So proud; yet so lonely.

“I’m doing this for you. I want to pledge myself to you and protect you,” she began gently, “Why won’t you let me?”

His gaze softened at her. “I simply think that you’ve done your part that night of the attack. Now war strategy is my forte; you shouldn’t have to be involved in all that.”

“But you’re my mission.”

“Am I anything more to you beyond your mission?”

“You’re my friend.”

“Then be my friend,” he said with a wistful tone. “Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I want to protect you too?”

Natasha was stunned.

“That is a very nice sentiment,” she murmured, smiling at him softly, “But you know I can take care of myself.”

“I have no doubt.”

“I am nothing without my mission,” Natasha admitted, even as the confession left a sour aftertaste in her mouth.

Sensing the sudden glum in her mood, Caspian unfolded his leg and leaned forward, gently taking her left hand in his bigger one. She looked away from his gaze.

“There is more to life than just missions, Natasha. Do you know what a woman like you usually do in Narnia?” Caspian asked, and Natasha immediately shot him a glare, but upon seeing the tender look on his face, she held back from biting his head off. “She would be busy looking for beautiful dresses. Attend balls. Dancing and be happy,” he smiled gently at her. Taking her other hand, Caspian now grasped both of them in his hands, “She would go on a chaperoned walk with the man who shows his intention to court her. Drinking iced tea as he tries to woo her into his arms. And one day, when a lucky man worthy of her affection finally won her heart, she would say yes to his marriage proposal. Get married. Have kids.”

It was a picture perfect life, one that exist only in some sappy romantic movies and in her dreams. Mix that with reality, Natasha felt ice that was paralyzing her in place. Yet she wore her mask well that at this rate Caspian still hadn’t catch on the storm that was brewing in the assassin's eyes.

Instead, Caspian was staring intently at their intertwined hands, admiring how soft and small were her hands compared to his. He swallowed thickly, still not meeting her eyes. “Do you remember, there was a young lord from Archenland that night of the attack. His name is Lord Sebastian. He… was asking about you,” he muttered. “He’s a good man. I think he fancies you–”

Natasha suddenly pulled her hands away from his grasp and stood up, making her way to the balcony. The female sharply inhaled the crisp, cold night Narnian air as she looked away to nothing particular. Not long after, Caspian appeared next to her at the balcony, dark, concerned eyes searching her.

“I can’t have all of those stuff,” Natasha swallowed the emotion that came with it.

“Why not?”

Natasha forced a smile and looked at Caspian. “I’ll tell you sometime after you attend the game.”

A humorless chuckle escaped Caspian. “What is your plan, woman?”

“You need me for the upcoming war. I’ll make you see that.”

“I do not like the idea of you being in the battle with me. It doesn’t feel right.”

“It doesn’t have to feel right. But I guarantee you that is the right decision. You’ll see,” she said determinedly, hiding the hurt in her eyes with a smirk.

***

“Thank you all for coming,” Natasha began. Her calculating ocean eyes scanned her surroundings and the attendees before her at the royal training field, which with Trumpkin's help, she managed to empty from its normal training sessions just for this occasion. “Your majesty,” she addressed Caspian formally, then to the rest of the Royal Council members and the twelve units belonged to the exclusive Narnian Royal Guard. “Royal Council members and the Royal Guards. The sole purpose of this game that I’m going to present to you, is to help me hopefully convince you, that recruiting me into the Royal Guard would be a beneficial decision for Narnia in the upcoming war with the Calormen Empire.”

“This again? Have you not waste our time enough?” called one of the member of the Royal Council.

“Please humor me. Hear me out. That much you have promised me,” she pleaded calmly, her posture remained straight and unmoved. “Now that the war between the Calormen Empire and Narnia is on the horizon, the Calormen will send their best assassins called the Hassansins in order to eliminate the only power stands in the throne of Narnia. As you have known by now, the Calormen doesn’t play within rules or the virtue of honor.”

“The safety of King Caspian is our top priority. I assure you,” Lord Denaris spoke up. “We know of the Hassansins and the threat they bring. I witnessed them firsthand. I was there that night of the attack,” he reminded her. “We are perfectly capable of protecting the king. It is our business.”

“Well I don’t mean to brag,” Natasha said with a small smile, gesturing to King Caspian, “But he’s only alive because I was there.”

An unhappy murmur sounded at the training field.

“Who does she think she is?”

“She dare questioned the Royal Guard.”

“Where did you hear about the Hassansins, anyway? Is it from the book you read so diligently at Cornelius' study?” one of them sneered.

A series of condescending chuckle entered Natasha's ears. She smiled.

“You think the ones that attacked us that night is the Hassansins?” she questioned them. “Think about it. The real Hassansins were almost never been seen. They are almost mythical, and the stories left behind the deaths they caused always resound with one thing: They never leave witnesses around. The ones that attacked us are rookies. They’re sloppy.”

“Sloppy assassins. Dear Aslan. How do you even know if they were even a professionally trained assassins or not?”

Without skipping a beat, Natasha replied with her chin slightly held higher. “Because it took an assassin to know another assassin.”

There was ice that suddenly filled the atmosphere from the way Natasha worded her answer so casually. The members of the Royal Council froze and Natasha caught the Royal Guards members, all twelve of them clutched at their various weapons tightly.

“I’m unarmed, and I would never mean King Caspian a harm,” she reassured them. “My name is Natasha Romanoff. Back where I’m from, I am a soldier just like all of you,” she gestured to the Royal Guards, “…wanting nothing but to protect the country that took me in and gave me a new life. Before that, I was fighting at the wrong side of the war. I was taken from my parents as an infant, then raised and trained solely for one purpose: to be an effective spy and an assassin for a group called KGB. I was trained since young age at an academy called the Red Room. I was good–one of their best actually. I have a very specific skill set. I didn’t care who I used it for, or on. Because of the destruction and the killing that I did for KGB, the enemy sent an agent that was sent to kill me. But he somewhat made a different call. He recruited me, showed me that I was fighting for the wrong side and ever since I’ve been trying to wipe the red on my ledger.”

Among the murmurs of the now agitated Council Members, one man spoke up. “How many people have you killed?”

Seeing the disgust and the fear lurking in their eyes now made Natasha felt ashamed. But this was a calculated risk, probably the only way to let them know that she was the only one qualified to keep Caspian safe. Steeling herself, Natasha replied in her normal voice. “Hundreds. I’ve stopped counting after my 68th kill.”

The murmurs now became louder.

“An assassin among us!”

“She should never be allowed in Cair Paravel, let alone near our king!”

“She should be banished. No–she deserved death for what she is.”

“We must subdue her. Before she does harm to anyone.”

Caspian, who had been watching the whole thing from the sideline was utterly stunned at the revelation. He knew that she was dangerous, but he always painted her as a hero in his mind.

Never a villain.

Their eyes met, and Natasha sent him a rather wistful, secretive smile. Despite what she had admitted, he wanted nothing more but to hold her hand and comfort her, steal her from this vicious Royal Council.

“I have one last proposition. Join my game. If I win, I get to proof my point. That alone is a satisfaction enough for me. But if I lose, I will willingly leave Narnia. You will never have to see me again.”

No. Caspian was about to speak up, and put an end to all of this chaos, but as he stepped forward, Professor Cornelius had his hand on Caspian's shoulder, stopping him. He leaned at him, whispering, “It is a path that she has to take. You must believe in her.”

Letting her go? Never seeing her again? The thought was almost excruciating for Caspian, for he knew that he would never get a friend like her anywhere else.

Oblivious to the young king's inner turmoil, Natasha spoke up again, addressing the whole Royal Council and the Royal Guards. “I will prove to you that despite all the crime that I committed in the past, I am still the only one qualified enough to protect the king and that my presence in the Royal Guard will be beneficial not only to the group but also to the Narnian military and the kingdom as well.”

“And how do you plan on proving that?”

“A drill,” she said, flashing her audience her signature smirk, “The present Royal Guard members versus me. They are to protect the king from me, because in this drill,” she looked at Caspian, sending him a fond yet wistful gaze, “I am going to assassinate the king.”

A collective gasp echoed throughout the field, and some of the Royal Guard members, being protective of the king, pulled their swords out of its sheaths, but before a real fight broke between the female avenger and the Royal Guards, Trumpkin stood forward. “Relax. She said it’s a drill,” he chastised them, “We’re not going to let her literally kill the king.”

“If you can stop me from getting to King Caspian then it means you’ll have no trouble with the Hassansins. But if you fail…”

One Royal Guard with blond, shoulder length hair and a deep set of eyes sheathed his sword. His jaw set. “How are we going to do this? Best get rid of you soon with this silly game rather than bickering amongst us.”

***

The rules were simple. If Natasha wins, it would give the Narnians a lot to think about, and increased the probability of her getting into the Royal Guard units. She knew that the Narnians loved their king above all, and she was counting on that. But if she lost, not only that she would have to be banished from Narnia, she would also fail her mission. The first choice was definitely more cheerful for Natasha, so winning this little game was non-negotiable.

She, like her other foes, peeled loofah fruit and stick it around her own wooden training sword, dipped it in dark red ochre extract–which would make an almost convincing make believe blood–wrapped it with a piece of fabric then dipped it once more in the natural red pigment. Natasha sighed. All of this was so ancient. Had they were in the 21st century, they would have settled their game with a Laser Tag. But alas…

Natasha went a little overboard with dipping her own makeshift sword and blood in the reddish pigment, not wanting her downed enemies to think that they’re still alive after she pretend to slash them with the smeared wooden stick. She herself was wearing white tunic and khakis leggings; something light so the enemy could see if she is downed.

And for the sake of her mission, she should never have any ochre mark on her.

The twelve Royal Guard units had their eyes on Natasha now. Caspian, being the prize of the game, was situated in the middle of the units, all armed with wooden sword dipped in the red pigment.

“The whole training grounds is a valid area for the Royal Guards to hide the king from the assassin,” Tavros declared the rules with a loud, firm tone. “Anywhere beyond the boundary will be considered a violation and will result in elimination. The Royal Guards shall be given thirty seconds to hide the king and managed their strategy. After that, the assassin will begin the hunt, and at that point, anyone whose clothes were marked with red by either the assassin or friend, would be considered down and therefore be eliminated from the game. The ones that still bear no mark on them are still in the game and must do their best to eliminate the assassin and protect the king. The game ends when either the assassin is marked, or when the king is marked. Is the rule clear?”

Having no objection, the Narnian minotaur gave a signal to Natasha to turn around and placed a blindfold in her eyes. In thirty seconds Natasha tuned into her hearing, trying to map the direction to where the guards were spread out. When her blindfolds were opened, she was nothing else but an efficient hunter and assassin.

She was going to eliminate the King of Narnia.

***

[Author's Note: So guys I’m editing this on my phone with Word and omg there’s this new Read Aloud feature that helped me proofread this so well so that’s cool. The only down side is that it takes a long time. But efficient as hecc. Anywho, enjoy the chapter and see you at the next ones! Review?]