For Glory

There was no further mention of what had occurred that night.

Yelena wasn’t even sure if Kate remembered. She doubted it. Kate didn’t seem to have the ability to lie to anyone, let alone Yelena.

The Champion was acting as if nothing had happened. Still skittish, to be sure, but that was nothing Yelena hadn’t expected.

After waking, the two had immediately parted to get dressed for the day and reunited in the main dining room for breakfast.

Something she had noticed about Kate was that despite her performance at the tournament, she was surprisingly kind.

She was sure the girl was meek, realizing last night just how different Kate was from the rest of the Challengers. But that meekness, gentleness, wasn’t surface level.

Kate made a point of speaking to every servant, not ordering them around and ending each request with a ‘please’ and ‘thank you’. It could be written off as a peasant feeling of a kindred spirit with the help. She had also possessed the decency to ask Yelena if she wantedto consummate the marriage, and rather than trying to pressure her or grow huffy, Kate simply . . . Accepted the rejection at face value. Sure there was a little bumbling and nervousness, but there was a clear absence of even a hint of anger.

Case in point, where most people wouldn’t hesitate to crush any insect underfoot, Kate carefully cupped the beetle that was crawling across the table in her two hands and pattered across the room to gently toss it out the window.

Kindness, plain and simple, for a creature that crawled in the dirt.

As Kate made her way back to her seat, the servants had begun serving breakfast and Yelena was quick to start buttering her bread.

“Do you like insects, Kate Bishop?” Yelena asked politely.

In all honesty, she had no interest in playing husband and wife with her spouse, but she felt no harm in throwing Kate a bone. If they were going to be publicly married, it would do if she played along.

Another, more morbid and curious part of her was filled with intrigue at what had occurred that night.

Kate was an enigma. A mystery Yelena wanted to crack open like a rock so she could examine what was inside.

Everything that Yelena thought she could safely assume about Kate was wrong.

She thought Kate would never stand a chance against the Warrior. She was wrong. She thought Kate would never be able to kill. She was wrong. She thought Kate would be overcome with joy and arrogance after winning. She was wrong. She thought Kate was unaffected by her act of violence in the arena. She was wrong.

“No.” Kate said simply, before realizing how awkward a response it was. “No, I don’t. They’re, disturbing and a nuisance, and I associate them with filth.”

A strong wince contorted Kate’s face and she hurried to continue, “I- I mean, do you like them, Your Highness?”

Again, Yelena couldn’t help finding it endearing how hard Kate was trying to be a good husband to her.

“No. I agree, they are disgusting.” Yelena popped a piece of bread that she had carefully cut into her mouth. “Be sure to wash before eating.”

Kate grimaced, looking down at her hands and nodding sharply. “Right.” She muttered, turning on her heel towards the kitchen.

Her absence gave Yelena time to think. Time to consider the next steps that would need to be taken.

It would be simply unacceptable to have Kate simply be ‘Her Husband, The Prince-Consort-Whatever-the-Appropriate-Title-Was’. She needed to have her own prestige outside of marriage.

The Vultures that circled the Royal family were hungry. Ravenous.

Melina, Alexei, Yelena and Natasha had years of experience fighting them off. They were used to the taunts, the passive aggressive comments, the bait that dangled under their noses while others watched hungrily to see if they’d bite.

A fresh marriage meant fresh meat.

Someone who was unused to the tactics and strategies used by nobles wanting to challenge their position. Unfamiliar with the concept of keeping yourself in control, so very controlled that free will seems a foreign concept.

Due to her background of disgrace and peasantry, her lack of knowledge around culture and traditions, Kate was easy pickings.

There were a thousand things to comment on, bait her with, and even if Kate managed to keep composure, her background alone could be enough for a skilled persuader to give rise to a coup. All they needed was to stir up members of the peasantry who already bore a chip on their shoulder from the less than ideal conditions, paint Kate as a traitor, and they could have a very real problem on their hands.

What Kate needed now was a remaking. She needed another title. She needed to be seen with esteemed, respected peers. She needed to distance herself from everything she was before, and she needed to prove she was worthy enough to lead the Empire alongside Yelena if the worst were to happen.

She could join the Royal Guard, Yelena mused as she enjoyed her breakfast.It was an esteemed position, played to her strengths and Yelena was sure Kate was much too docile to refuse if she asked.

There was still the small, minute issue of Kate’s conscience, but seeing as she had killed once already Yelena hoped she would swallow her morals in accordance to her new status.

As Kate meandered back into the dining hall, Yelena took the chance to rake her gaze over her husband.

Good posture. That made sense since she was quite tall. Kate walked with a slight downward tilt to her chin. Not all too important. It could be fixed, but the little quirk was nothing near as pressing as what she was wearing.

A large, far too oversized white tunic with the sleeves rolled up over her forearms. Out of necessity, rather than a fashion statement, seeing as they would drown her Kate’s hands in low quality cloth if they were left down. This was paired in large black trousers held up with a thick brown belt.

Yelena opened her mouth to speak, to ask what the hell are you wearing and how didn’t I notice this sooner, before she took a moment.

She supposed she couldn’t fault Kate for dressing like a peasant. That was what she was. Yelena just needed to get her out of that mindset.

The Princess sent a disgusted glare to the large, clunky, mud covered boots Kate wore. Somehow.

“Do you have anything you need to do today, Kate Bishop?” Kate sat up straighter as she was addressed, pausing before shaking her head no.

“Good. Have Clint take you to the marketplace to buy some nicer clothes.”

“What?” Kate frowned, looking down at her tunic. “I like my clothes.” She muttered poutily.

Yelena didn’t entertain the objection, quickly finishing the rest of her meal and leaving Kate alone at the table.

She had much to arrange if she wanted Kate to be taken seriously as a leader.

——————————-

“I’m not an errand boy.” Clint grunted.

“I know that.” Kate watched him sharpen his sword with more force than necessary, sliding the stone against his blade hard enough to elicit small sparks. “Not so sure about the Princess though.”

“It’s not in my job description to take you clothes shopping.” Was all he responded with.

Her wounds had been re-bandaged just before, as Kate quietly let him work before working up the course to ask. Now, she lingered awkwardly nearby as Clint lovingly took care of his weapons sat on the stairs leading to the back entrance of the estate.

“Okay, but seeing as she isn’t pleased with what I’m wearing right now, I doubt she’d be happy with anything else I’d buy.”

“If Her Highness has an issue with your clothes, tell her to take you.”

“No!”

“Why not?” Clint paused in his methodical actions to glare up at Kate with a disapproving expression.

“Because!” That clearly didn’t satisfy the archer, his eyes narrowed. “Because . . .”

In all honesty, Kate hadn’t entertained the idea. When Yelena told her to tell Clint to take her as if she was a child, she had felt a little patronised, sure, but she wanted to be a good spouse so she did as she was told. She didn’t feel the Princess would be impressed if she came back empty handed, asking her to escort Kate instead.

‘Because Yelena said so’ wasn’t going to be a satisfying enough reason for Clint, so Kate mulled over a few excuses.

“It- I- well, she’s probably busy.” It sounded pathetic to Kate’s ears. Judging by Clint’s face, he clearly felt the same.

Even if she wasn’t - and Kate felt awful for even thinking it - she didn’t really want to ask Yelena.

The experience would surely be awkward, conversation would be stilted, and Kate would surely fumble her words or trip on her feet or come up with some new way to embarrass herself in front of the Princess.

The truth was, she made Kate nervous. She made her feel hyperconscious of every nerve in her body, every word she spoke.

Kate didn’t know why.

She attributed it to the Princess being far too intimidating for her own good. Or it was more likely the fact that Kate didn’t know how to approach someone in a romantic manner.

She was a coward. Running from her own wife. Sue her.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to spend time with Yelena, or get to know her better. It was more-so the fact that Kate wasn’t sure she would be able to hold a conversation that didn’t last less than five seconds.

Clint sighed at the long pause in conversation, dropping his blade to the grass and standing.

“Do you want this marriage to work, Kate?”

“I- yeah. Of course.”

“Do you want to spend the entirety of it hiding from any and all interaction with your wife?”

Kate silently shook her head, once again feeling much like a small child being lectured and ordered around.

“This would be an amazing opportunity for you two kids to get to know one another before you’re thrown back into the politics side of things. If you’re serious about making things work; take it.”

Clint made to gather his things, hilting his blade and gathering the rest in his arms while Kate stewed on his words.

“I haven’t,” He paused at the sudden change in tone. Much less upbeat, far more dejected. “Been sleeping well. Since the tournament.”

“As is expected.” A churning knot of sympathy tightened in his stomach. Clint did his best to remain calm, keep a cool tone.

“I’ve been having, night terrors, I think. Never had any this bad since my father passed.” Kate admitted. Her eyes fell to her boots as she recalled prior incidents. “I don’t know for sure, but I think the Princess-“ She paused, “I think Yelena helped me last night.”

The older archer was glad this was the point of conversation. He was glad Kate wasn’t asking for advice, or how to stop the guilt and turmoil because he couldn’t give her an answer.

“I never meant to force her into this. And I know I don’t fit into all these political gambits and schemes. I know I’m not a member of the gentry, but I don’t want to ruin her life just because I wanted to change mine.”

As she spoke, Kate gradually gained the confidence to look up at Clint, hold his gaze with an honesty that was true and admirable. An honesty that couldn’t help but remind him of a younger version of himself, of Natasha. Even of Yelena.

It was a poor quality. Not in the meaning of badness, but in the sense that it wasn’t a trait the rich that ran in circles around the royalty possessed. A trait possessed exclusively within the minority of the peasantry, and it was a trait that endeared Kate to him far more than any words or actions ever could.

“Kid, it’s not your fault. You had no hand in any of the cards dealt.” Clint replied solemnly, “I can’t give you much advice about the guilt you feel, or how to clear the blood from your hands but all I can ask is that you don’t blame yourself. For anything that happened.”

A gust of wind blew past the two of them. An unspoken understanding forged itself anew.

“Easier said than done.”

“That’s for sure.” Clint scoffed lightly, a small smile gracing his face.

“Thank you, for helping me. Listening to me. It’s all been a little overwhelming,” Kate chuckled mirthlessly, “and I know you’d rather not be here, but I’m glad you have to be.”

Clint merely nodded his head in thanks, slinging his quiver onto his shoulder before turning to continue his duties around the estate.

“Ah, Kate.” He turned to add, “If you’re having trouble finding the words, write them down before hand. Can you write?” Kate nodded her head. “Good. That always helps me stay on track.”

“Thanks.” She quirked a little smile, cheeky and full of energy that had long since passed from Clint’s body over the years.

He managed to offer a weaker one in exchange.