Seven
Natasha hadn't had a female friend before. It hadn't been safe to get too attached in the red rooms, never knowing who would disappear or be made different.
She thought that maybe Maria could be a friend.
They had settled at the table with cups of biting coffee and in between sips of the scalding brew, Natasha told her story. Maria made all the right noises and exclamations, her own witches temper flaring up when Natasha spoke of the Red Moon contract.
She was comfortable to talk to, al spikes and honesty. Maria didn't even seem to mind Clint's loyalty changing, explaining it as a male thing.
“I always thought he would find the Queen he could love and respect,” she had said. “He respected me, but now he's found someone to love, I won't be spiteful and refuse his leaving.”
Coulson had come and gone again in search of the right documents, barely noticing the new Queen. They had moved onto discussing furnishing when Maria looked up as a flash of male temper flared up. It tasted of Clint, dark and deep, solid ice coating the edges.
“Hells fire,” Maria growled. “Tony.”
In accord with each other, the two Queens stood. With a flash of Opal the door was opened onto the scene in the street.
“Tony, enough!”
“Clint, enough!”
Two commands, two men instantly down on their knees.
Tony looked up at Maria, and his nostrils flared as he took a deep breath, noticing Natasha for the first time. The look that crossed his face was the same as Clint had worn. Clint had seen it too, but before he could make his leap, Natasha bound him in a red web.
“I don't mean to steal your males,” she said apologetically to Maria, who was watching the kneeling Tony with amusement.
“And that's the difference, Natasha,” Maria told her. “They've found the strong Queen they wish to serve.”
“I didn't want a court,” Natasha growled.
“You may not have much of a choice,” Maria said, not without sympathy.
Natasha looked at Clint, at Tony, and at the silently standing Steve. She could feel the pull of all three of them.
She let the red web dissolve. If she was to be a Queen, court or not, then she would be proper about it.
She straightened her posture and raised her head.
“Attend,” she snapped out, and three sets of eyes snapped to her. Maria smiled, and slipped back inside the cottage.
“I will not tolerate my court fighting amongst themselves. If you wish to serve, you will work this out. Otherwise, walk away.”
Steve knelt at her words, those blue eyes downcast.
“I will not walk away from you, my Queen,” Clint said firmly, as he pulled himself to his feet. “Prince Tony, I apologise for my behaviour.”
He did a good job of hiding any resentment, burying it beneath duty and protocol. Natasha made a mental note to speak to him later. It hadn't been her intention to shame him, but a Queen had to have control of her court.
The new Warlord Prince, Tony, smirked confidently as he rose and passed her the documents that he held, and still had not dropped. He was most certainly trouble on two lets. She met his cocky look with one of her own, letting her lips quirk in a not quite snarl. Finally, he dropped his eyes, and she nodded.
“If you've quite finished having a pissing contest in the street, I have to look at houses now.”
All of the males nodded, and Natasha stepped back into the cottage, closing the door behind her and leaning on it with a shaky sigh. An Opal shield snapped up around the kitchen, auditory and visual.
“Steve is too well mannered to pry, and that'll keep the others out,” Maria said. “Brandy?”
Natasha accepted the glass gratefully and relished the burn in the back of her throat before her red jewels burned up the alcohol.
“I can't believe I just did that,” she admitted.
“Natasha, you have a double gift. You're a strong Queen, and a talented Black Widow. Don't second guess yourself. You'll thrive here. Its where you were meant to be.”