Natasha was glad they'd stocked up on ale, because these men didn't look as if they were about to stop anytime soon, already deep in their cups and rowdy as all get out. If her husband had half a brain he might have tried to throw them out, but he was too busy flirting with the other serving girls, his hand halfway up their skirts when he thought no one could see. But Natasha could, and she found herself not giving a shit what her imbecile of a husband did. She wouldn't have gotten with him if it hadn't been at Ivan's insistence. Nat wasn't the marrying kind, and though she'd insisted to Ivan she would be better off without a husband, she'd found herself with one no matter what.

"Alexei, I need another barrel!" She shouted down the stairs, the wood of the floor creaking as she neared the cellar door. There was an answering giggle that had nothing to do with the finances Alexei was supposed to be going over before he yelled his understanding. Anything else he might have said was drown out as a roar erupted from the gaggle in the center of the room and she was called to refill their mugs for the eighth time. Pasting a smile on her painted lips she filled seven new mugs and balanced them on a serving tray before she brought them over.

"Here you are gents. Drink up!" She encouraged, noting how their eyes fell to her breasts, already pushed up so high they nearly choked her, as she bent over to hand them their new mugs and take their old ones. She wasn't ashamed, not one to pull punches when it came to making as much money as she could. The damn tavern was expensive to keep afloat; no one had ever told her that when she'd been just a barmaid. One of the men in front of her, black haired and bright eyed, pulled her with ease onto his lap, grinning as he stretched an arm around her waist.

"What's a nice little thing like you doing here?" He asked, words running together as he tried to flirt, his hand sliding up her leg outside her dress. She gave a half giggle as she pressed her side into his chest, giving him an eyeful of her cleavage as she reached back behind to his cloak and withdrew what coins she could fit into her hand without being too obvious.

"I own the place. Hard to believe isn't it?" she asked, winking and brushing her hair to the side.

His eyes widened but his grin grew more devious. His hand left her knee to stroke his goatee, a ponderous pantomimed expression coming to light. "You do, do you?"

"I just said that."

"So, you don't think we could go and get a room, can we?" His eyebrows waggled. "Somewhere nice and private?" Natasha laughed. She ran her empty hand through his short hair while her other hand deposited the coins into her pocket, the weight heavy against her thigh The promise of a good meal, of a little something more than struggling to make ends meet, felt strong and reassuring. She dragged the hand from his hair, trailed it down his face and cupped his cheek to bring his head upwards. Her lips pressed slowly to the shell of his ear, breath hot against his skin.

"For the right price, darling, I think we can arrange something like that."

It didn't take long for them to find an excuse to get away, and he'd had her pressed up against the wall of the nicest, cleanest room she could get them. No way was she going to do anything else in a room she couldn't guarantee was clean. His hands ran up and down her sides, messing with the strings of her corset as he tried to undo the lacing though his fingers were too heavy and clumsy in his drunken stupor to actually get anywhere.

"Leave them," she hissed, his teeth sinking into her throat as she hiked up her skirt and moved one of his hands to the heat between her legs. "I want you now."

That was all it took, a few words whispered in his ear, a tug of his hair for encouragement, and he was rutting shamelessly into her like a bitch in heat. She let her mind wander as he worked, her hands gripping his shoulders tight. He wasn't half bad looking, but he was wealthy. Wealthier than most men that came through, and judging by his clothing he was a high-born, if not noble. The benefits of being one of the few pubs big enough to support more than fifty or so people. Not that she'd had a choice in the size of her tavern, or those that normally came to it. She'd inherited it from her foster father, along with her husband, neither of which had ever brought her any luck or any sort of happiness. This, being fucked by some random stranger for a little extra gold, was as good as her life got as far as she could see. At least he wasn't too bad, when it came down to it, though she'd hardly worked up a sweat by the time she had to fake her own finish for his benefit. He pulled out before he reached his own. Good man. After she assured him that he was amazing and the best lover she brought him over to the bed, weak-kneed though he was, and laid him down gently. He grinned up at her and reached into his pocket so he could press some gold into Natasha's hand, more than double what he would have owed for the room.

"My name's Tony," he told her with raised eyebrows and a grin. Nat's answering smile was a mix of a smirk and a genuine struggle not to laugh. Was he seriously trying to flirt with her again? She patted his cheek, wished him a good evening, and headed down the long hallway to the staircase that would lead her to the bar.

Alexei wasn't the only who could have a little fun as far as Natasha was concerned, and just because she had been pawned off to the bastard didn't mean she had to like his company. If she was being honest with herself it was more her tavern than his, anyway, and she would do as she damn well pleased. Before heading downstairs she double checked her skirts and fixed her corset so that she wasn't hanging out any more than usual. The group at the center of the room had grown quieter now that their chief noise-maker was snoring in bed just above, and Nat was pleased to see that most other patrons had cleared out and, for the most part, hadn't left behind too big of a mess. She thanked the barmaid, Yelena, with a tight smile and excused the blonde to leave again. Likely to go suck Alexei's-.

"Excuse me, madam?" One of the men, this one blonde and well groomed, caught her attention. Nat perked up immediately.

"Another round?"

"I think I need a room. We all do if you have the space." His smile was the most adorable thing Natasha had ever seen, and she couldn't help but shoot him the first genuine smile she'd had in weeks. Maybe even in a month.

"Yeah, I've got rooms for all of you. It'll be five gold pieces a night, and breakfast is served early if you want it."

"That sounds excellent to me, ma'am," the blonde said, blue eyes glinting in the torch light. They all six paid without hesitation and she showed them to their individual rooms. The blonde, who'd introduced himself as Steve, wished her a happy evening before he disappeared into his own room, leaving Natasha to wonder how such a nice guy had gotten mixed up with such an idiot for a friend.

Closing time for the tavern meant that Alexei would return to the surface to help Natasha clean, or rather he would have if he bothered to pull his weight. As it was he sat at the bar, drinking ale and fixing his eyes on the quickly descending Natasha.

"Do you have to wear shit like that that shows you off to the whole world?" He asked, eyes narrowing as he watched her come closer. Her eyes narrowed. He was looking for a fight, baiting her until she gave in and pushed back. She wasn't sure she wanted to this time, wondering if it wouldn't be more satisfying to frustrate him through her lack of responses, or if she just wanted to yell at him and get it out of her system and over with. She was all for passive aggressive torment, however, and so kept her tongue in check.

"I don't know what you mean, husband. I am simply doing my job."

He snorted, rolling his eyes while he drained his mug. When he moved to fill it back up Nat snapped at him not to drink it all. He made even worse company when he was drunk, besides.

"I do the expenses, let me worry about how much we have to spend on it," was his less than brilliant retort, the same one that he'd given her every time she told him to stop drinking. She didn't even know why she opened her mouth except for perhaps the habit of needing to comment on every piss poor thing he did.

With light feet she made her way over to the door to draw the lock and bolt the door. As she worked her way around the room, wiping off tables and sweeping up the scraps left on the ground, she put out the torches by dipping them in the buckets of water she strategically placed around the floor. The hissing and spitting of the flames was a soothing sound, her way of asserting what control she had over such a powerful force. Too many buildings had gone up in flames, and while Natasha was no lover of fire she couldn't see how they could ever do without it, so she took pleasure in destroying what she knew could control her, taking her victories, no matter how small, where she could.

"So, are you going to tell me where we keep getting all this extra money from?" Alexei called to her from the bar, counting what Nat had emptied out of her pockets for the evening.

"It's none of your business."

"The hell it isn't, woman, this is as much my place as it is yours."

Natasha shot him a hard look, too exhausted to take any of his crap. He didn't get to tell her what she could and could not do, not in her house. "I told you—stay out of it."

He must have sensed she wasn't in a mood to be trifled with because he turned his harsh gaze back to the paper work in front of him. At least he'd learned to listen to her when she told him to shut up; it was a step Ivan had never bothered with. She'd worked the hardest for what she made when her foster fathered owned this place, but if he found out she was picking up anything extra on the side? She'd never hear the end of it, and often had to skip out on repeating the process for weeks at a time so that the bruises could heal. Her knee still gave her hell when it was about to rain.

"Are you going to sleep with me tonight?" Alexei asked as Natasha drew nearer, picking up a rag to wash out the last few mugs left behind by her final customers.

"No." Her voice was curt and cut any hope he might have had to the quick. They slept in separate rooms at Natasha's demanding. Alexei knew she had no love for him, and she refused to even sleep beside him since the time she'd found him with Yelena in their marriage bed. Since then she'd taken to sleeping in one of the guest rooms. She supposed it was just lucky enough they never filled every room so she had to sleep in the same bed as Alexei. It would have made her feel too filthy.

He left without another word, the paper work put aside for the evening. Before he'd disappeared up the stairs he'd tried for a kiss, but he tasted too much like Yelena for Nat to do anything other than push him away with a hard glare.

"One of these days you'll remember that I am your husband, and you are my wife."

"I'd love to see you do anything about it." She said as she rolled her eyes.

"You won't be this cocky forever. Remember that one day you're going to need me, and then you're going to wish you never made a cuckold of me."

He never learned that threatening didn't do a thing to her; she'd had a life of them from his predecessor that made his look laughable. As she tallied up the remaining stock from the front she remembered the times Alexei had thought himself as bold and tough as Ivan. Her beloved husband had once beaten her any time she'd dared to talk back to him, but he lacked the common knowledge Ivan had had to leave her face alone. Nat would have to spend more time lying in bed with bruises covering her face, wasting time and money, before she could heal up and work again. And after the miscarriage. . .

She turned her thoughts away. That was much too dark to brood on at that moment, and it certainly didn't make a fitting subject before bed. The ache in her feet from a full day's work hit her like a battering ram and Nat found her way upstairs by candle light. Once she was blessedly free of that damn corset and the skirts she had to pile on day after day she was able to collapse and relax in her bed, the door to her bedroom bolted and extra secured by the chair leaning up against the handle. Too many times had Alexei tried to sneak in when she was sleeping; wariness kept her safe from any more of his idiotic advances.

The next morning came with an explanation of why the city had suddenly been flooded with more inhabitants than Natasha had seen since she'd been moved here. The second prince of the king was getting married, and apparently it was such a big to-do that the kingdom's people, both high and low born, were scrambling to find a place in the city for the ceremony. It was roughly a week away, and business had never been better. Natasha was kept busy from dawn until dusk and she found herself enjoying it immensely. She was free from having to worry about money now, able to pick pockets with ease in the confusion and noise that came with large crowds. Alexei had even left to speak with their provider about getting an advance on their goods so that they wouldn't run out in the time to come. Good thing, too, because their stores were depleting rapidly and if there was one thing the bastard understood it was the importance of having, because once that went away so did the customers.

The men that had visited her establishment were planning on staying for a few days more before going on their merry way, friends of the eldest prince but apparently not fans of the politics and the madhouse the castle had become. Steve had told her that he and Thor, the heir to the throne, had become fast friends while attending boarding school some years ago, the both of them having lessons that simply weren't being learned while at home. Natasha had listened with feigned interest as she served the men at her bar.

"He's a good man," Steve assured her with a smile. "Pompous on occasion, but good. He'll be a good king."

"Of course he will." As if she could say anything else; she valued her head atop her shoulders and wasn't about to endanger its position. Without being prompted she refilled Steve's mug, understanding that the more ale the men had in their bellies the more talkative they became. He thanked her for that and slid a gold coin in her direction. For once she found herself waving it away. She'd already stolen more than that from his friend, Tony, and she enjoyed Steve's company enough that she didn't need to be bribed.

"On the house, darling." She winked. "So, what about his brother? Loki?"

Steve's expression turned swiftly to that of dislike, and his blue eyes focused on the contents in his mug. "He's interesting. Couldn't be any different than Thor and while I hate to say anything bad about someone he's . . . he's not a good guy. He's a sadist at best, and his sense of humor is deplorable."

She paused in her job to focus on what he'd said. They were harsh words, and strange to be coming from such a polite man, though his perception of the prince wasn't anything that Natasha hadn't heard before. There had been rumors of the prince's appetites and mannerisms; some said his soul was as dark as the pits of hell and his sense of humor so twisted not even God could straighten it out. She'd never taken much stock in it, not having any reason to. It wasn't as if she was going to parley with the prince any time soon. But the way that Steve looked when Nat had asked him about the black-haired man had unnerved her. She couldn't imagine the man in front of her saying a bad thing about anyone, but the expression on his face, as though he was about to throttle his mug, had her worried. She reached over to pat his hand a little, a smile lifting her face when he looked up at her.

"I suppose it's a good thing he's not next in line then, right?"

Steve just smiled and drank to that. He was joined by the rest of his company, including the always interesting Tony, who winked when he caught Natasha's eye. She nearly laughed as she turned away. For a bunch of loud idiots they'd grown on her, and she would hate to see them leave for what cities they had come from when the week was up and the festivities had passed. A small wave of regret spread over her with that revelation and she turned away to fill another order to keep herself from dwelling on it. She would deal with her pathetic sorrow and regret at another time, bury it away until it turned into a fleeting memory. For now she had orders to take, money to bring in for her business, and the happiness had always been easy to imitate so long as no one was looking closely enough.

The festivities managed to trickle into Natasha's tavern all throughout the day, rowdy travelers bringing stories of how beautiful the bride was, how peaceful and joyful the King and Queen were, and how the eldest prince had already decreed a royal hunt to take place that late afternoon in his younger brother's honor. All were invited to partake if they could, and there was a great deal of excitement about that. Such matters were usually restricted to the wealthy and high born; for a commoner to go was the chance of a life time. Yelena had her eye set on a man who came in with a pack of hunting dogs supposedly good enough to smell out a deer from halfway across the forest, and Nat rolled her eyes when she saw Yelena kiss him good luck. The woman was an idiot. Everyone knew that Thor or Loki would get the kill, no exceptions. Even if a low born did none would believe it. Assuming they managed to get away with their head they'd be expected to keep their silence as the story of how the nobles besting of the beast circulated through the town.

Either way it was good for business and Natasha wasn't about to complain as men bought ale after ale, telling their stories about hunting and the beasts caught and lost within the thick wood just beside the palace. They were likely to say anything, and more than once Natasha had to keep her laughter to herself as she heard exaggerations piled on until there were oaths sworn about unicorns sighted near one of the streams, and rumors about how the young prince could shape shift into a wild mare to bring out the game for his elder brother. She dared to crack a smile at that one, though Steve's warning about the black haired man played somewhere in the back of her mind. But the concept was too ridiculous, no matter how strange the man. Magic wasn't possible, let alone shape shifting. Even if the man was less than favorable company that didn't mean he was a demon or monster who could bend his shape. Such things didn't exist she told herself as she refilled the story teller's mug.

"Where on earth did you hear such a story?" she asked, squeezing his shoulder as she perched herself on the seat beside him.

He grinned as he passed her an extra coin, eager to spill his guts to the first person looking to listen. "It's not a story, ma'am, it's true. All of it. I heard it from a servant at the castle; the young prince can change his shape and skin as easy as we can change our trousers."

"Then it must be very difficult if the process is compared to you changing clothing." A roar of laughter followed Natasha's quip, and even the patron smiled in good-natured humor.

"You laugh now, ma'am, but I speak the truth. You'd best keep these doors locked mighty tight, and don't invite strange folk in now. He can't enter unless you say he can." His face turned so serious it took Nat off guard as she stared at him. It was sweet of him to be so concerned, but really, what could she do?

"Tom, if I was to turn away anyone and everyone who was strange but came to the door looking to come in I'd have no customers," Natasha reminded him, smiling as she kissed the top of his head and thanked him for his concern. The man didn't look convinced but his attention was soon caught up by the newest of arrivals, a trapper and his crew from across the water with eyes dark as sin.

The steady company was kept up until that late afternoon when the hunt was scheduled to take place. An eerie silence fell on the building after the seats had been vacated, and it seemed the whole town had gone to watch or try their hand at catching the poor animal reserved for that evening's revelry. At least Nat now had some quiet time to pull everything back together and restock what she could. God only knew how crazy things would get when the crowds came back, drunk on adrenaline, fresh air, and if they were lucky, success.

She was in the middle of a tally of the day's earnings when there was a knock at the door, far too early and too quiet for it to be anything other than one man. A late comer to the week's celebrations? Likely. She straightened her skirt and put on her most hospitable smile when she opened the door to find herself face to face with a man she'd never seen before. He was tall, and handsomer than most men she'd seen with pitch black hair and bright blue eyes that took her in with fast, easy glances, as though he was picking her apart piece by piece and putting her back together just as neatly and quickly.

"Good afternoon," he said with an easy smile, thin lips stretching to reveal teeth. "I was wondering if I might buy a room for the evening?"

A/N: I don't own the rights to any of the Marvel Characters, and the title of the fic comes from the song "Bones" by Ms Mr. Thanks for reading!