Chapter Text
Natasha was wholly unprepared for what Atalan entailed.
Sure, she had heard of the wealthiest European country and the second richest in the world. Atalan was second only to Wakanda because of the abundance of vibranium that came from the African nation.
Even with that information in mind, she still could barely imagine how much of the country used gold. A person would think it were just another cheap metal if they knew no better.
The limo she sat in, which belonged to the royal family, was nicely tinted from the outside world and stocked with water and snacks, just as she had expected. What she had not expected was that everything had a gold trim, even the handles on the outside of the black vehicle. This car was probably worth a half year’s worth of rent for an apartment in Manhattan.
There was a possibility the country only looked so rich to Natasha because she was in the capital. She had never traveled to Sapphia before now, but from what she heard from Tony’s visit here, the wealth made him feel upper middle class instead of rich, something rare for the billionaire.
Natasha had the feeling that the rest of the island country was quite similar in that regard.
The Atalanian people themselves were dressed uniquely. Most women wore two-piece outfits that revealed plenty of skin, and most had gold-trimmed everything . The material looked loose and flowy, while also being intricately designed.
The men’s clothing was less detailed and extravagant compared to the women’s, but that didn’t mean they were lacking. Some men were almost completely shirtless, walking the streets with casualty you would never find back in the States.
It was astounding how much gold Atalan was actually sitting on.
The assassin had been asked by the queen herself for this job, something that both surprised and weirdly intrigued Natasha. She had retired only a year prior, deciding to let the next generation defend Earth after defeating Thanos in Wakanda. But, Natasha had underestimated just how boring retirement was, especially since the only person she hung out with who was not one of her ex-coworkers was Yelena.
Natasha could not—would not—spend the rest of her days with Yelena chattering in her ear every day. So, she took the job offer.
The job sounded simple at first: become the chief bodyguard for the crown princess. However, she had a feeling it would be anything but because of the reputation that the princess had. Dutiful royal during the day, a party girl at night. Strange for a future queen.
The princess was the second born, since she had an older twin brother, but because he was a boy, it disqualified him from inheriting the throne.
Atalan was a matriarchal society, another fact that made the island feel distinctly different. Natasha had been sure to educate herself on Atalanian culture, and the more she read, the more she respected the almost thousand-year-old country.
The women mostly worked in leadership positions and held importance in the culture. Men mainly worked in the military or helped women run their day-to-day businesses. That had been the system since the country was founded, or so said Wikipedia.
Slowing to a stop, the limousine pulled Natasha out of her trance. The palace did not disappoint, with golden spires on the roof and beautifully intricate windows lining the multi-story estate. The grounds were lush, almost tropical-looking, and there were countless fountains that could be seen in just the front alone.
The limo driver had reached the passenger’s side door and opened it while Natasha took everything in. She stepped out, but continued to observe her surroundings. Compared to the opulence she had seen so far, her outfit—a deep green coat dress—made her feel underdressed yet overdressed at the same time.
It was warm and humid, a completely different vibe from New York at the moment, which was currently covered in snow since it was November. The long sleeves and tights she was wearing under her leather boots felt stifling in the heat she naively should have been expecting.
When she glanced up at the sky—which was sunny and clear mere moments ago—she noticed clouds forming and darkening before her very eyes. Too fast to be natural .
She raised an eyebrow, the only indication of curiosity written on her face. Natasha had a feeling that this job was more unusual than most.
It would be a long day; that was for sure.
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Fifteen Minutes Earlier…
“Milady, her majesty requests—”
The older lady paused in her steps. Her dark eyes, wrinkled around the edges, widened.
The workout arena on the palace grounds normally held a group of the royal guard honing their skills, usually by testing them on each other. That’s what the woman expected to find, along with the crown princess observing.
What she found surprised her, but was not unexpectedly out of character.
The ceiling of the small arena was covered with dark storm clouds, lightning clouds from the looks of it. Members of the most prestigious branch of the Atalanian military were running chaotically around, trying their hardest to avoid the lightning strikes from the clouds above, while acting like chickens with their heads cut off.
Right in the middle of the chaos was you, a shit-eating grin coating your face from cheek to cheek. You had been practicing your powers on members of the royal guard. You were in simple clothes, as simple as the crown princess owned. A white top that covered just what it needed to, and a light pink skirt that surprisingly ended just past your knees, everything trimmed with gold.
“I’m too old for this,” the older lady murmured. After having served the royal family for almost three decades and watching the queen go through the same training you did, it had become tiring to keep up.
In an instant, she turned around to leave, her mouth in a thin, irritated line. Ten minutes later, she was back. With the second in command of the royal guard.
You were still eagerly enjoying yourself. These men were good, you could admit. But you were just a little quicker.
By this point, anyone who had been struck by your lightning was lying dazed on the ground. You made sure the bolts that the men had been struck with were as painless as possible compared to what you could unleash. However, being struck usually sent even the bulkiest of men to the ground.
Finally, after training for twenty minutes, you could strike down the twenty-five men you asked to train with.
“How ruthless. Are you sure these men still want to serve you whenever you ascend to the throne?”
Rolling your eyes, you turned around with your hands on your hips in annoyance. The small smirk on your face was a dead giveaway that you were truly feeling the opposite. The clouds near the ceiling started dissipating, another indicator of your mood.
“They all came here voluntarily.” You shrugged, your smile only growing as you walked closer. “I would have dragged you here kicking and screaming if you weren’t in a council meeting with Dad this morning. It’s my job as a little sister to do that.”
Isaiah chuckled, shaking his head in faux frustration. “I don’t know what I did to deserve to end up as your twin. For being the heir, you surprisingly cause so much trouble.”
“But you’re supposed to keep me in line.” You grinned, your eyes twinkling with mischief that Isaiah could see plainly. “That’s what I keep you around for.”
Glancing behind him, you noticed one of the senior members of the palace staff, Penelope. She looked genuinely frustrated, unlike your brother. You had known her since you were a small child, and she was one of your mother’s ladies-in-waiting. Though you knew you did not make her job easy when she had to interact with you, which had caused a point of tension between the both of you.
“Why is Miss Grumpy here?” you whispered.
“She brought me here.” Isaiah turned around so he could put his arm around your shoulders, even though he was over six feet. Atalanian people, both men and women, were unusually tall. “Mom wants to see us all in the throne room. Mostly you, because it mainly concerns you.”
At that, you scowled, even as Penelope said something to your twin. You knew what your mother wanted you for.
Natasha .
Your new 24/7 companion. You felt you were old enough and trained enough not to need a nanny. Your mother, of course, felt otherwise. You knew better than to complain to her mother about it, so she usually ranted about it to her brother. Even he would have been a better pick than a foreign ex-assassin.
What made you snap out of your brooding was Penelope speaking directly to you, the tension in her voice not very well hidden. “Milady, we should get going. We’re late enough as it is.”
“I’ll take her, Penelope.” Isaiah assured as he squeezed you into his side, earning him a death glare from you. “I can get her to the throne room easily, even if I have to manhandle her. Go on and take a break for a little while.”
The middle-aged woman looked relieved. “Oh, thank you, sir. You’re very generous.” She said, bowing quickly before walking off in a different direction from where Isaiah was taking you.
“I hate you.” You murmured, still pressed awkwardly against him. “You can trust me to be responsible. I can do stuff alone.”
“Oh, I know you can. But I also know you’ll run right back to your room if I let you go right now.” Isaiah pointed out with amusement, but loosened his grip on you, just enough so you could walk straight.
“I just don’t understand why I need to have this Avenger around me all the time. I have my powers to protect me,” you said, clenching your fists. The Atalanian sky responded in turn, the clouds darkening in your reflection.
Isaiah sighed, holding open a set of double doors for you to enter. He always tries to cover up how much he cares, but as a big brother, he ends up unsuccessful most of the time. The two of you were unfortunately making your way to the throne room, and you made it as slow a walk as possible.
“Listen, it can’t be so bad, right? You get to hang out with an Avenger when you leave the castle. One of the original Avengers too,” he smirked, his eyes glistening with mischief. “Plus, isn’t she your favorite? Celebrity crush and what not?”
The goofy look on his face was more than enough motivation to punch him in the arm, hard . “She’s not my favorite. She may have been in 2012 when she was the only girl saving the world when that alien invasion attacked New York, but not anymore.”
Isaiah raised his hands in surrender quickly, but you knew he would go right back to teasing you later. “Okay, okay. I got the message. Oh, and look, we’ve arrived.”
You supposed Isaiah was pretty good at the art of distraction. You had barely even noticed you were in front of the grand double-door entrance to the throne room.
Glaring at your twin one last time for good measure, you schooled your expression into something more resembling neutrality before you had to face your mother and new bodyguard. But even with all the princess training in the world, it was still hard to mask all of your dislike of the situation on your face.
Without another word, Isaiah opened the door for you, and the illustrious throne room of the palace greeted you. Since your mother was in a good mood, the afternoon sun streamed through the windows.
At the very end of the rectangular room, your mother sat high on the throne, the sun crown situated atop her head as usual. Your father stood next to her, a longsword attached to the belt of his sleek military uniform. It was sheathed, but the golden decorated hilt gleamed similarly to the rest of the golden decorated room.
There was one other person besides the usual guards that drew your attention. A redheaded woman who was too overdressed for Atalanian weather. Her hair fell just past her shoulders, and while the coat dress she wore was professional by American standards, it made her stand out like a sore thumb.
You knew who she was. Anyone who knew world news knew who she was. Your heels clicked against the polished floors as you walked closer to the throne and the guest of honor. The woman turned around to look at the noise, her perfectly groomed eyebrows raised the slightest bit in curiosity. She must have known who you were, or at least done her research on the flight here.
Natasha Romanoff knew who you were.
If you had known this a month ago, before your mother hired her, you probably would have been ecstatic. But now? You were anything but.
“Ah, you made it. Ten minutes late, might I add.” your mother’s voice drawled, in English. Her blue manicured nails delicately scratched against the armrest of her throne, a small habit you knew she had when she was either annoyed or nervous. In this case, most likely both.
“ Wasn’t by choice .” You muttered under your breath in Atalanian. You did your best to avoid eye contact with both your mother and Natasha, the latter practically burning a hole into the side of your head.
“ Behave .” You heard your father scold in your native language, although his facial expression held a glimmer of amusement under his stoicism.
Your mother cleared her throat, ignoring your comment for the sake of not causing an argument. “Well, you’re here now. I’m sure you know who each other are, but just in case. Natasha, this is Y/n, my daughter. Y/n, this is your new bodyguard, Natasha Romanoff.”
Natasha nodded in greeting, a polite smile on her face. “Crown Princess Y/n. It’s an honor to meet you in person. Your reputation precedes you.”
An American accent. It was rare to hear it in the palace. You spoke many languages fluently, being the heir to a country and all. English was only your fourth language after Atalanian, Spanish, and French. You were a little rusty in all honesty, especially since you spoke Atalanian in the palace a majority of the time.
“The honor is all mine, Miss Romanoff. Your reputation precedes you as well.” You responded with snark laced in your Atalanian accent.
You had most definitely caught the insinuation from her words. The party princess. Well, that was not all you were, even if the media liked to portray that side of you.
Her green eyes bore into yours with an intensity that seemed much too analytical to be casual. You continued to smile at her, your eyes gleaming with a smug sense of satisfaction that you were not unraveling under her renowned stare.
Your mother, either oblivious to the tension or opting to ignore it altogether, cleared her throat, gaining both of your attentions away from each other.
“Miss Romanoff will start her duties in the morning.” She smiled, her eyes holding a similarity to yours. So she did see it. “Y/n, I’d like you to show her around the palace for the rest of the day. It may be helpful to get to know each other.”
Your smile faltered for just a moment, but you regained your composure. “It would be my… pleasure .”
Unlike you, Natasha’s expression did not change. Instead, she turned to your mother. “Thank you again, Queen Valerie, for this opportunity.”
Kiss ass . You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at her actions before turning away. Your eyes briefly met your twin’s, and you shot him a venomous glare in response to his self-satisfied eyes of the same shade.
As you expected, when you stormed out of the room, footsteps followed. Quiet, barely noticeable. If your senses were not heightened and your father wasn’t the top commander of the military, you probably wouldn’t have noticed.
She was following you already? She hadn’t even officially started the job yet.
You felt heated, more than you had ever felt in your entire life. Whether it was because of your anger at your mother, the gaze your new bodyguard was burning into your back or the stifling humidity of an Atalanian November, you weren’t sure. Whatever it was, you knew one thing for sure.
Natasha Romanoff would regret underestimating you.