Chapter Text
Leaning against the doorway of the royal library in the castle, the newly crowned queen of the Romanov kingdom gazes quietly at the scene before her, a soft and fond expression on her face.
After months spent rekindling friendships, pretending to be a couple, foiling attempted coups, and uncovering hidden identities, such peaceful moments are a rare and cherished occurrence for the red-haired royal.
“I can feel you watching me,” you state plainly to your guest, your eyes never leaving the book in your hand as you casually flip the page.
Natasha Romanov’s lips curl up fondly at your words, pushing herself off from her position against the door frame and making her way over to you.
She had decided to drop by briefly before her first meeting with the council of high-ranking nobles began, but seeing you standing and reading by the window, your form bathed in sunlight and an ethereal glow, she couldn’t help but be distracted.
“Can you blame me?” Natasha asks as she stops in front of you.
Her finger gently hooks under your chin in a silent request, and you lift your head from your book to meet her eyes, tilting your head curiously.
Natasha leans in slowly until her face is a short distance from yours.
She whispers in a low, intimate tone, "You're breathtakingly beautiful when you read."
A tiny, amused smile forms on your face, unable to hide your reaction to her words as a familiar warmth spreads across your cheeks.
Natasha’s grin widens at the sight of your blush, causing you to roll your eyes slightly with an exasperated huff and playfully push her away with your book.
“Calling me beautiful anytime I do anything is going to lose its charm one day,” you warn teasingly.
"If that ever happens, I'm sure I could think of other ways to make you blush," Natasha teases back with a smirk.
You shake your head fondly at her usual confidence and teasing, a smile remaining on your face.
“Shouldn’t you be heading to the council meeting soon?” you chastise, moving to take a seat on a nearby cushioned settee.
Natasha follows closely, settling beside you and resting her head against her hand on the back of the seat in a relaxed position. Her eyes soften into a fond and adoring look as she gazes at you, her other hand falling atop yours and caressing it gently.
“I wanted to see you,” she answers, her voice soft and earnest.
The intensity of her gaze makes you duck your head slightly, choosing instead to focus on your connected hands between your bodies.
“You see me every day now,” you point out, your tone light and teasing.
“And yet it never seems to be enough,” Natasha quips back smoothly.
You let out a small laugh at her charming words, not disagreeing with her statement.
While your manor undergoes repairs from the damage caused by Dreykov’s explosive powders, and as your previous staff members gradually return and reacquaint themselves with their roles, you’ve been staying in one of the castle’s guest rooms at Natasha and her family’s insistence.
Despite her new responsibilities as queen, the constant time at the castle has given you and Natasha plenty of opportunities to be together, allowing you two to explore and enjoy this new level of intimacy in your relationship.
And even though you know Natasha honestly meant what she just said, you have a guess as to the other underlying reason she decided to check on you.
It’s been a couple of weeks since you recovered from your life-threatening injury from the fight with Dreykov, and although she tries to hide it, you sometimes catch Natasha giving you subtle looks of concern, likely haunted by the memory of how close you came to dying in her arms.
Looking back up at her, you easily recognize the slight pinch of worry in her expression.
You readjust your hand in hers, interlocking your fingers and giving it a gentle tug.
“What’s wrong?” you inquire.
Natasha shakes her head slightly, offering a reassuring smile, “It’s nothing.”
You give her a doubtful look, raising your brow expectantly.
She chuckles lightly at your stubborn expression before relenting with a slight shake of her head.
“I just wanted to see you…” Natasha admits, placing her other hand atop your clasp one and giving you a tiny smile. “…to remind myself that, if anything, I still have you by my side. Seeing you makes me feel stronger — like I can actually do this.”
"You can do this, Natasha," you reassure her. "Everyone knows it. Why else would your mother step down and let you reign if she didn't believe you would succeed?"
Natasha rolls her eyes exasperatedly at the mention of her mother.
"Maybe because she just wants to spend more time in that new, fancy lab of hers," she remarks, pointing a finger in suspicion. "I still believe she blew up the previous one on purpose during the ambush so that she could build this new one."
“It is a really nice lab,” you admit, recalling the countless hours spent assisting the previous Queen in setting up her new research and experiments wing in the castle.
Natasha chuckles knowingly at your comment in support of her mother, but then she releases a heavy sigh, her expression falling slightly.
“Is it wrong that sometimes…I wish we could go back to the simpler times when all I had to worry about was completing my studies so that I could spend more time with you?” she wonders wistfully.
“When we were just friends?” you ask teasingly with a raise of your brow.
“With the addition of our current relationship, of course,” Natasha corrects with an amused smile.
You give her a similar smile in return as you ponder her words and reminisce about your shared past and years of friendship.
A sudden idea comes to mind, prompting you to release Natasha's hand and gesture for her to turn around in her seat.
Curious, Natasha raises a brow but fulfills your request, moving around so that her back now faces you.
She realizes your intention when your hands begin to run through her red hair, untangling it gently with your fingers.
It’s been a long time since you’ve braided her hair.
This simple yet cherished action has always brought her calm and comfort. After you had avoided her for the past year, she had forgotten how much she loved this sensation whenever you did it.
Instinctively, her body leans back, seeking your reassuring touch. Closing her eyes, she relaxes and releases the tension weighing on her.
After a moment, you finally break the silence, wondering the reason for Natasha’s previous wistful question.
“What are you worried about?” you question softly, your fingers deftly moving through her hair.
Natasha frowns lightly, her thoughts reemerging about her main concern over the past weeks.
Dreykov’s words to her during their last conversation in his jail cell still linger in the back of her mind, hinting at the possibility of an impending threat or trouble that she isn’t yet aware of.
Your touch brings her back from her thoughts, reminding her of what she nearly lost.
“I just need to be prepared for anything and not be blindsided like before,” she confesses vaguely, her voice barely above a whisper. “I need to be able to protect everyone I care about.”
Her words cause you to furrow your brows, sensing there’s something more she’s not sharing with you but you’re more concerned about the weight she’s placing on herself.
“You shouldn’t feel like you have to handle everything alone,” you tell her. “Whatever you need, I’ll always be here for you, Natasha.”
Briefly, Natasha’s mind flashes to the memory of your pale and almost lifeless body lying in her bed as she anxiously waited helplessly to see if you would survive and wake up.
She was unprepared and failed to protect you last time. She won’t make the same mistakes again.
“Natasha?” you call, snapping her out of her thoughts.
"I'm finished," you declare, lightly pressing her back to request her to turn around.
Turning back in the seat, she touches her newly braided hair in appreciation.
Focused on admiring your work, Natasha is surprised when your lips press against her cheek in a chaste kiss.
You linger for a moment before pulling away.
Natasha turns to you, slightly stunned. Her hand raises to her cheek where you kissed her, touching the area delicately.
“You’re going to be an amazing queen, Natasha,” you say confidently, echoing the same firm conviction and trust you've expressed every time before.
Natasha feels the pressure and worries momentarily dissipate at your words. Because, in that moment, nothing else matters.
As long as you believe in her, that’s all she truly needs.
With a soft smile, Natasha’s hand tenderly cups your face, and she leans forward to press a gentle kiss against your lips.
Instinctively, your hands find her shoulders as she leans in further, guiding you to recline on the cushioned arm of the seat, deepening the kiss.
Lost in the sensation of her passionate lips meeting yours, you moved your hands to the back of her neck, drawing her closer, feeling the heat emanating from her body, mirroring your own.
When Natasha pulls back slightly, her eyes are darkened with desire, and you're left flushed and breathless at the familiar, intense sight.
You become distinctly aware of her position above you: her chest hovering just above yours, her hand beside your head on the arm of the seat, and the other against the back frame, supporting herself up, with her leg between yours, not quite touching.
The two of you have shared many close moments over the past week, but nothing more than passionate kisses and innocent touches.
Right now, there’s an unspoken question in her longing gaze, and you find yourself nodding in silent agreement, your pulse quickening with anticipation.
At your permission, her hands instantly move to your waist, bringing your bodies together, her lips seeking yours again in a hungry kiss.
Once again, you feel yourself slowly getting lost in the dizzying whirl of her touch.
But then you remember the time.
“Natasha…”
She hums against you distractedly, trailing kisses down the column of your throat, lightly sucking at a sensitive spot on your collarbone, causing you to gasp in surprise.
“…y-your meeting,” you remind her, biting your lip to stifle the sounds she was coaxing from you.
Natasha pauses, her lips hovering over your skin, her warm breath teasing you, her hand lightly brushing against the exposed skin where your dress had ridden up.
For a fleeting moment, you wonder if she might disregard her responsibilities and continue. And if she did, you’re not sure if you could muster the willpower to remind her again.
Finally, after a silent deliberation, Natasha pulls back with reluctance, meeting your gaze with a mixture of disappointment and frustration, her fingers tracing lightly along your waist.
“If only we had gotten together when I was still just the princess,” she sighs wistfully. “Then I wouldn’t have to trade your presence for a bunch of pretentious, power-hungry nobles.”
Your expression softens with a sympathetic smile.
"Would you like to meet up by the lake after your meeting then?" you ask, trying to console her.
Natasha’s face brightens at the suggestion, a wide smile spreading across her lips as she nods eagerly.
“I’d love that.”
You gently brush a stray lock of hair behind her ear, your fingertips lingering on her cheek as you tease her gently.
“For the record, even if you are the queen now, I can still call you my princess,” you remark playfully.
Natasha chuckles softly, leaning into your touch with a contented sigh. Her eyes close briefly as she savors the tender moment.
“Yours,” she murmurs affectionately. “In everything.”
After a lingering moment, you both stand up, composing yourselves. You watch as Natasha smooths out her clothes and takes a deep breath, a determined expression settling on her face as she turns to you.
"Thank you," she says sincerely before a slight smirk graces her lips. "I told you seeing you makes me feel stronger."
You roll your eyes in disbelief, chuckling as you gather the scattered books.
"I should head back to your mom’s lab. She’s probably waiting for me to return with these books," you say.
Natasha’s hands are already reaching for some of the books from the table before you finish speaking.
“I can help you carry them,” she offers.
You place a hand on her shoulder, stopping her, and give her a pointed look.
“No, you need to go to your meeting,” you insist firmly.
Natasha considers the time she has remaining before reluctantly relenting with a sigh.
"At least don’t let her work you too hard," she adds protectively.
“I’ll be fine, Natasha,” you reassure her, shooing her away with your hands. “Now, go before you’re late.”
Natasha catches one of your hands in hers, and with a graceful bow, she brings it to her lips, pressing a tender kiss on your knuckles. Remaining in her bowed position, her eyes lock onto yours with a deep intensity that makes your breath catch.
“I love you,” she murmurs softly, her voice filled with adoration.
The sincerity of her tone wraps around your heart, and a fond smile grows on your face as you respond just as softly, “I love you too.”
Your voice had a slight tremor, echoing the depth of your feelings for her.
Natasha straightens, her gaze unwavering as she presses one last fleeting kiss to your lips before turning to leave.
You watch her go with a mixture of disappointment and longing, wishing for just a few more moments with her.
Shaking off your reverie, you refocus on your original task. Gathering the books in your arms, you make your way through the halls to return to the lab.
Just as you turn the corner, another figure emerges from that direction, startling you.
You step back abruptly, causing one of the books to tumble from your arms and hit the ground with a soft thud.
The older lord bends down, retrieving the fallen book before handing it back to you with a slight nod of acknowledgment.
“Here you go, Lady Y/n,” he greets you formally.
You nod appreciatively, accepting the book from him.
“Thank you, Chancellor Ross.”
The man standing before you is Chancellor Thaddeus Ross, one of the kingdom’s highest-ranking nobles. His prominence rivals that of Dreykov, and his position as Queen Melina’s advisor grants him considerable influence over matters affecting the kingdom and the royal family.
Despite his absence for treatment overseas, he returned just in time for Natasha's coronation.
So far, your encounters with him have been polite but brief, lacking any substantial conversation.
"I'm glad to hear that your recovery is progressing well," you say warmly, genuinely concerned for his well-being.
"Thank you," he replies formally, his gaze steady. He assesses you critically, slightly unsettling you.
Glancing in the direction he had come from, you assume, "Are you heading to the council meeting?"
"Indeed, I am," he confirms curtly, his demeanor remaining impassive.
An awkward silence follows as you fail to come up with anything further to say. You offer him a polite smile and nod, moving to step to the side.
“Well, I should let you continue on your way,” you say. “It was nice speaking with you, Chancellor.”
As you walk past him, his following words stop you in your tracks.
“How long do you anticipate your relationship with the young queen will last?”
Turning back to face him, you furrow your brows in confusion at the unexpected question. The silence hangs heavy in the air, leaving you momentarily stunned as you struggle to comprehend his meaning.
"I'm sorry, I don't understand," you finally respond, your voice betraying your bewilderment.
He inclines his head slightly, fixing you with a scrutinizing gaze.
"My apologies for the directness, Lady Y/n. I'm merely trying to understand why such a match was approved during my absence."
His tone was measured, almost clinical, as if he was analyzing a political strategy rather than discussing personal relationships.
"I care deeply for Queen Natasha," you defend firmly, conviction lacing your voice despite the discomfort of the conversation.
"I have no doubt of that," he acknowledges. "You've always been a steadfast friend to Her Majesty, and it's clear to everyone just how much she adores you..."
Usually, comments of Natasha's affection towards you fill you with warmth and joy whenever mentioned by others, but for some reason, the chancellor's words now cast an unexpected shadow of shame and unease around you at the thought.
“...my question is — what more do you have to offer?” he concludes pointedly.
His words cut deep, challenging your value to Natasha beyond companionship.
“I…” you falter, searching for a response.
Involuntarily, his words trigger memories of Dreykov’s reprimands throughout your childhood in your mind, his voice echoing painfully in your ears.
“Pathetic…Disappointing…Worthless…”
Though you know now that Dreykov is not your real father, his cutting remarks to a young child have already left lasting scars on your self-worth and confidence.
Despite your efforts to move past them, the memories of his harsh and relentless belittling resurfaces, causing you to question yourself anew.
What more could you possibly offer Natasha?
Pressing on at your hesitation, Ross adds with a grave tone, "Are you confident that your love alone is sufficient to navigate the challenges and responsibilities she will face as queen?"
You clutch the books tighter against your chest, struggling to reply.
The warmth you felt from Natasha earlier has long vanished since the conversation began, leaving you reeling with doubt and hesitation.
You had always assured Natasha of your unwavering support, but had you ever considered whether your actions ever genuinely helped her?
Maybe that’s why she chose not to share everything that was troubling her earlier.
Because she doesn’t believe you can.
He’s right. You realize.
Loving her might not be enough.
Your silence prompts him to continue, his questioning relentless.
"Can you honestly say you are the right person to stand beside her?"
Still shaken from his intense scrutiny, your honest answer unconsciously escapes you in a soft whisper.
“I don’t know.”
Stepping back, Chancellor Ross regards you with a somber and grim expression, nodding curtly as he bids you farewell.
“Then I suggest you find out soon, Lady Y/n,” he advises with a sigh, turning to depart. His parting words echo faintly in the corridor, "For the sake of the kingdom's future. And the queen's."
You stand there, rooted to the spot, his words repeating in your mind.
Doubts swirl within you, intertwining with your love for Natasha and creating a storm of uncertainty.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, you return to your previous path, one step at a time, gathering your resolve until you are able to walk with some semblance of confidence again.
Though his words were harsh, they serve as a stark reminder of lessons ingrained in you during your upbringing in the home of Lord Dreykov. Lessons that had helped you endure and survive his torment and abuse through the years.
Lessons you had perhaps forgotten in the comfort and love you found by Natasha's side.
To strive harder. To be better. No matter the cost.
After all, that is the only way you could truly be of any worth to anyone.
~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~