Trigger warning! This chapter gets a little non-con near the middle, so if that sets you off I suggest skipping to the end.


Magnus didn't come down for the rest of the day, leading Natasha to wonder if he hadn't snuck out while she was busy with other customers or in the cellar bringing up more ale with Steve, who was all too happy to do the heavy lifting for her. She repaid him with a tart from the kitchen, bringing a smile to his face when he bit into the fruit-filled pastry.

"Where is your husband?" He asked once his mouth was empty, searching around as if he'd overlooked Alexei and half expected the man to pop up behind him.

"At a supplier getting us more ale and other things we need around here." She said, though inwardly sure that the only reason the idiot was taking so long was that he'd found a nice wench to warm his bed at night. Not that she minded; all she wanted was the product he was going to bring back. For all she cared he could return to his whore so long as he dropped everything off first.

"And you don't have an assistant or anyone else to help you?" Steve asked, frowning. "Besides Yelena, but she couldn't exactly do the lifting and carrying you need."

Natasha's shook her head, instructing him to put the barrel down where the previous one had been just behind the bar. Her eyes fell on the spot she had sat last night as she and Magnus had coupled, and she had to look away quickly to keep her cheeks from heating with the memory, a familiar slow burn already starting in her stomach. "I don't need anyone to help me out," she told Steve as she forced a smile on her face. "I'm doing fine on my own, don't you think?"

The man was smart enough to keep from saying anything to the contrary, and Nat patted him on the shoulder and passed him another half loaf of bread; he had a knack for nearly eating her out of house and home when he went too long without eating. They had some more time alone, many of her other patrons leaving for their own duties in the daylight, and Natasha offered Steve a seat at the bar so she could talk to him while working as well. His hand found hers to stop her from moving away not a few minutes later.

"About last night. I wasn't very polite about asking you to, well, keep quiet." His eyes screamed an apology when she met them, practically begging for an acceptance, an understanding.

Natasha's hand cupped the side of his hand, smiling a little. "I shouldn't have been listening in. It wasn't my conversation to overhear, and I'm sure you're just worried."

Steve's nod was vigorous, pulling away from her hand with some reluctance. She let him as her attention turned to Steve's group, soldiering in from upstairs, most still blinking the sleep from their eyes. The man named Fandrall smiled at her, and the look gave her chills from having seen the same expression one too many times on Ivan's lips and eyes when she had stood in front of him. There was nothing she could do but ignore it, keeping her focus on those who wouldn't stare at her so lecherously. His attention was likely derived from Tony, who Nat assumed had talked about he and Natasha's coupling. While he seemed to think himself special for it the others, save Fandrall, didn't treat her any different, as if they didn't care. Silly man to think himself so important.

Without being prompted she brought them all food, answering their "thank yous" with a smile of her own. Tony's eyes rose to try and meet Natasha's, and her eyebrows lifted as if to ask what he was looking for. When his eyes moved to the staircase, as if to suggest they left up them together, she snorted and shook her head. Way too early, and after last night . . . well, no offense to him but he couldn't quite compare. His money would be good, but for once she found that she didn't need it as badly as she had the first night, and it was a relief not to have to fall back on old practices for once. She stopped when she'd made it back to Steve, one of her hands finding his shoulder and squeezing it lightly. He relaxed into the touch.

"So, what has the king planned for this day?" she asked, eager to break the silence that had fallen between them. "Any exciting hunts or festivals going on?" She would need to know so that she could estimate how much ale and food to try and borrow from the other villages on the edge of town, providing that Alexei didn't return back that evening.

There was a murmur that rippled around the table as the guys compared, none of them quite sure. Steve thought that there were a myriad of plays to be performed in celebration of the happy wedding and beloved couple, while another blonde, this one with cropped hair and a hard look in his eyes, shook his head and told them that there was to be a festival that spanned the whole day, ending in a private ceremony between the prince and his would-be bride.

"They're looking for him to secure a child already," the man, Clint Barton as his friends called him, said with a small smirk. "Though I can't understand why they're pushing it on him already. I'm amazed Thor hasn't been saddled with the same responsibilities."

"They're probably hoping that a family will force Loki to take his job a little more seriously, and it'll make him start playing by the rules," Bruce said after emptying his mouth of food.

"Bruce, what would you know of that?" Tony asked with a laugh, eyes gleaming.

"A great deal more than you: I don't shirk my responsibilities Sir Run-Away."

There was a collective laugh that surged through the group, Nat sharing it as her eyes locked on Tony. The man didn't even look ashamed, shrugging it off and grinning with the rest of them. It must have been nice to not have responsibilities Nat thought as she excused herself to the cellar, assuring Steve that she didn't need any help. She needed a bit of alone time, time to pull together a plan for the day. These men may not have had the most important of priorities, but she wasn't about to leave everything to the last minute. A festival meant a slow day but a fast evening, and if she could get the baking done that afternoon she might be able to earn a little extra coin by serving food to those who returned, rather than just providing breakfast.

She returned upstairs and, seeing the men still occupied with their food and drink, moved back into the kitchen to get an early start. As she worked her mind was able to wander, this time focusing on Magnus. She couldn't help but wonder why he'd left so abruptly that morning. Perhaps he knew Steve, or at least someone who looked similar. If she'd been on the run Nat supposed that she would keep away from anyone else, just out of pure caution, though he was taking a risk by getting so familiar with her. As she let the dough rise she contemplated taking breakfast up to him. He would appreciate the service, no doubt, and she had to admit that she wanted to stay in his good graces. It might come in handy. So, with a smile on her face she took half a loaf of bread, some ham, and some water upstairs.

Managing to carefully balance the bread between her arm and her chest she knocked lightly on the door, calling out to the man she thought was still within. There was a pause, the sound of something scraping against the wood of the door.

"Natasha?"

"Yes, it's me. Mind opening the door?"

"Just you?"

Ah, so she'd been on the dot when she'd guessed paranoid. "Yes, just me I promise. You looked hungry earlier so I brought you breakfast." And maybe she could get some answers out of the bargain, too, assuming curiosity didn't kill the cat. There was another moment of silence before the lock on the door was shifted and it opened. Magnus' green eyes peered out around the room, as if he were searching for other intruders before he shot her a small smile and waved her in.

"I would rather be safe than sorry." He said as way of greeting, stepping aside so she could enter before shutting the door once more. Nat set down what she'd brought him and turned when she felt him watching her.

"Are you anticipating being attacked at my tavern?" she teased, expression skeptical. So much for him not bringing in trouble; he seemed to expect it at every turn. His attention had flitted to the food she'd brought him, and without much thought he dug in, ignoring her questions. At least the rest of his manners were impeccable, even though she could tell he was starving. What was a nobleman doing starving?

"Thank you so very much for your kindness," Magnus said, turning his gaze and his thankful smile to her when he'd eaten his fill, not wasting a bit of it, downing it all with the water. Nat nodded her head, feeling heat rise to her cheeks. What was she still doing there? Waiting around like a damn bitch in heat, hoping to get noticed, that's what Ivan would have called it. He would've been right. Excusing herself, she moved to step from the room but Magnus reached out a hand to lock around her thin wrist, anchoring her to the spot. She turned to look at him, confused, but he simply smiled.

"I should have offered you a seat, please forgive me. If you would like to stay you are more than welcome to, though I would hate to presume that you don't have other things that are more important to tend to."

How the hell was she supposed to take that? He had to be one of the strangest men she'd ever met. One moment he was completely self absorbed and paranoid, the next he was empathetic and apologizing. Just as last night he's swung from being enraged to cheery in the beat of a heart. The realization crashed over her that he was the second man to follow similar rules, switching as he pleased from one emotion to the other. Ivan had been just as dangerous, and the thought of the two of them sharing similarities was enough to send her heart racing hard against her chest. She yanked her hand back. Answers and company be damned, she was getting out.

"I should be getting back. Thank you, and I hope you have a pleasant day." She said with a voice as polite as she could get it while her heart demanded she leave, thudding hard against her chest. The last thing she needed was anything remotely similar to her foster father. Magnus' expression was confused and his grip on her tightened even as she tried to pull away.

"Natasha if I have offended you-."

"No. I just have to get back downstairs." Her smile wasn't supposed to waver, and neither was her voice. "I have work-."

"Natasha." She wished she didn't recognize that tone, the one that she'd grown accustomed to hearing right before she received a lashing, whether verbal or physical. "If I have offended you I wish to know how." He stepped closer, forcing Nat to take a few paces back even as he held her. What the hell was he playing at? After seeing her eyes flash with what must have been fear Magnus released Natasha's arm, letting her step away.

"Magnus, I'll thank you not to do that again." Her voice had smoothed out, hiding her trepidation behind her bravado. She hadn't had to do that in some time, and it felt foreign to keep her face so blank. He responded, however, not as she was anticipating. Rather than stepping away able to take the rejection, he crowded her further, his eyes searching hers.

"Natasha, what did they say about me that has you so afraid?" he asked, backing her up towards the door. Once her back was against the heavy wood her hand found the handle and made to turn it, only to be grabbed by Magnus and pulled up above her head, her left on trapped between their bodies as he pressed himself up against her. His free hand switched the lock of the door. No, no this couldn't be happening.

"Tell me what they said about me. Answer me!" He yelled, breath hot against her face.

Her breath hiked in her throat and she waited until he'd opened his mouth to yell once more when she pulled up her knee and drove it into his groin. He managed to trap her leg between them as well, his hips canting against hers and proving just how much his body was enjoying their close proximity. A scream welled in her throat, though his free hand, the one that had locked the door, was over her mouth and squeezing her face as hard as he could before she could release the noise. She struggled to shift her body, wriggling against him to try and gain purchase on the situation. One of her feet stomped down on his and he swore, releasing her mouth just as she heard Steve's voice heading up the stairs outside.

"Steve!" she shouted before Magnus cut her off. His face paled at the name and his grip tightened enough to make tears well in her eyes, sure there would be bruising later that day. Son of a bitch! She tried to bite down on his hand, but if it hurt him he didn't react. She heard footsteps just outside the door, followed by a knock. "Hello? Ms. Romanov are you in there?"

She tried to scream something against Magnus' hand, and the handle of the door jiggled as Steve tried it, only to find it locked. Magnus' eyes met Natasha's, narrowing and growing truly terrifying.

"Keep your mouth shut." He growled in her ear so just the two of them could hear. The threat made Natasha's heart stutter. "I don't want to hurt you, Natasha. Please don't make me." She shuddered but nodded when he released her.

Steve was shaking the door knob again, trying to get in despite the lock. "Natasha, are you okay?" He asked, again, voice bleeding concern. Natasha bit her tongue as she watched Magnus stand closer to the door and tell Steve, in a voice that was a higher pitch than normal, that there was no Natasha in here. There was silence, then Steve apologized and Nat started shaking when she realized that he was walking away. He was her last chance—he couldn't just be walking away! Magnus breathed deep, eyes closing in a moment of relaxation, when Nat's nimble fingers flipped the lock on the door.

"Steve—please!" She yelled, managing to yank the door open before it was slammed shut again.

Magnus' eyes were fear filled and furious when she was forced to meet his gaze, slamming the door shut. Before he could do much else other than follow Nat as she moved away from him, her heart and labored breath loud in her ears, the heavy wooden door flew open with a crash that made the two jump. Steve filled the door frame and froze. Magnus' eyes met his, narrowing in plain disgust and hate.

"Rogers," he growled out, stepping away from Natasha, who had been backed into the wall and stared plainly at the pair of men. It had been easy to assume that Magnus was no friend of Steve's, but to see the hate emanating from his gaze right there and then? She was glad not to be in the middle of it.

"Loki, what are you doing here?" Steve demanded, incredulous. For a moment Nat wasn't sure where the hell that had come from, the name so left field it hadn't registered until she took it all in. Magnus wasn't, there was no possible way . . . no. She stared from one man to the other and Magnus—Loki stood, not refuting the name change.

"I came to get away from the palace." He shot Natasha a look that said he would have succeeded if she hadn't interfered. Beneath his glare Natasha lost her tongue and her mouth went dry. She excused herself, not bothering to curtsey. She would have to thank Steve later.

As if matters couldn't get any worse Alexei had returned, flirting with Yelena who always managed to come out of the woodwork anytime the bastard was around. Nat's eyes went blank once she saw her husband's form, mind already struggling to make sense of everything else that happened. Without a word to anyone else she threw herself into the kitchen to try and quiet the buzzing in her head with work. She could hardly meet Loki's eyes when Steve marched him outside, the soldier's hand tight on the collar of Loki's shirt. The black-haired man had stared at her the whole time he was moved, Nat able to feel the heat of his gaze enough that her cheeks burned from the attention.

"What was that about?" Alexei asked once the pair were out the door. The rest of their company had gone with them, each having exclaimed in surprise at seeing the black-haired man with Steve, leaving Alexei confused.

"That was the prince. The one getting married," she murmured, not raising her eyes from the bread dough she was kneading. "He was staying for a little bit, not that I knew. He had a different name." She turned back to the dough in her hands, to the flour covering her apron and sleeves, all of it familiar and comforting as it helped her find her breath and nerves again.

The truth was enough to send Alexei off in a tirade about how Natasha never paid attention to what mattered, that she always cared more about her own problems than to put the tavern and her business first. He berated her for most of the day, though his words went in one ear and fell out the other as Nat busied herself with work. If Alexei knew the truth, the whole truth, he might die of shock, so there was no reason for him to complain to her. The prince not getting the treatment he deserved was the least of her worries, after all. She could only hope that he wouldn't come back to accuse her of assaulting him. Her blood ran cold at the thought, sure her heart had stopped for one moment as it registered. Relief set in when she rationalized that he would not want to bring attention to the fact that he'd tried to run away from his wedding day and what went along with it; his family would never allow the shame that would befall them and the family of the bride. So long as they cared about their reputation and honor, Natasha should have been safe. It was all she could hope for.


A/N: I struggled with this bad-boy for forever, so I apologize; it's certainly not my finest chapter, but it will pick back up! As ever, I don't own the characters, Marvel does.