𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐃𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 | 𝐒𝐨𝐂

𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄.

ix: milky tea

Natasha awoke, her joints aching. Even after being sick, she held no appetite, and the sight of her food left her reeling. The only thing keeping her together was her dignity; even that was trembling at the knives edge.

"You look awful," Alessia murmured, knuckling her eyes. She propped herself onto her elbows, sheets tipping down to rest in her lap. She blinked hard as Natasha struck an oil lamp, smothering the flame between her pinched fingers.

Alessia's eyes - sea green, distinguished beautifully against the saturated glow of light. Alessia's lips were a bramble of inconvenience.

"Good morning to you too," Natasha greeted, turning onto her side. The sun peeped through the annular window. "You don't need to be up for another few hours. Go to bed,"

Natasha folded her bedsheets, rooting in the cupboards for her bag and turning towards the stopgap bathroom.

It was a tank full of purified seawater. Natasha scrubbed her body with soap and an exfoliating rag before changing into an artless flowy skirt and blouse. Her hair hung down her back to dry, coiling back up into lovely curls.

Jesper and Wylen, and Matthias were yet to rise. A boy, different from Rotty, was steering the ship. He was younger and muscular, his hair - dirty blonde. "Moya tsaritsa," He bowed, a Ravkan accent prominent in his voice.

She surmised the others had insured him money to take them across the seas. "It's my honour to steer your boat," Natasha defeated a laugh. Perhaps he was more clueless than she thought.

"It is my pleasure to have you here," She replied before turning away with a nod. Natasha pushed herself up onto a stack of crates, sitting cross-legged. The wind was yet to fly, the sun only awakening.

If she were up to it, she would have sat with a banquet of baked goods and a warm mug of milky tea. The weather was right, and despite her fluctuating mood, a shower thrust parem further away.

Natasha knew it was only a matter of time before withdrawal unequivocally settled in - she swore to keep her addiction at bay for as long as possible.

"You're up again?" Kaz Brekker sneered. He had changed - wearing a silk shirt - buttons done up nimbly.

"I'd say the same to you," She replied coolly. Kaz didn't have his cane, and she guessed he wasn't wearing his gloves too - hands buried deep in the pockets of his trousers. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Natasha scrutinised his demeanour. Despite his appearance, his eyes never betrayed a glimmer of his thoughts. "You don't need my permission to sit," He didn't laugh - Kaz leaned his weight onto the railing beside her.

Natasha could tell his limp was troubling. His left foot dragged behind him, yet he was still astonishingly keen on his feet when he was trying to avoid her. "What happened to your leg?" She asked.

He awarded her a foul look. "You have a limp," Natasha inaugurated. She enjoyed riling him up. The others respected him, more out of fear. However, Natasha knew she didn't owe Kaz Brekker anything. "That's why you walk around with that bird cane,"

Kaz swallowed, looking up at her. His lips pinched together, and he looked utterly furious - it overjoyed Natasha. "It's a crow," He spoke - offended.

"Why?" She tilted her head against her shoulder - something she did often whilst thinking hard. A vein in his jaw cramped, yet his eyes never wavered from hers. "Do you believe in spirit animals? - mine is a swan," Her laugh was brilliant and giddy.

Kaz's rage was ardent, exasperated and intimate - it burned a special place in his heart. He couldn't decide if he was glad to have her back. Currently, it inclined towards resentment. "Crows remember human faces. They remember the people who feed them, who are kind to them. And the people who wrong them too. They don't forget. They tell each other who to look after and who to watch out for,"

"That doesn't answer my question," She neatly bunched her skirt to drop down onto the floor, tucking her blouse beneath the crimped elastic. Kaz watched her the entire time, brow furrowed as she surveyed her appearance in the rippling seawater.

Only when did she look up did answer her. "Well, maybe you ask the wrong questions," Kaz crossed his arms over his chest, the sleeves of his shirt rolled to his elbow. Gold dice cufflinks were in the buttonholes of his sleeves - they were stolen, of course.

Their conversation felt familiar, dialogue quoting for a second time. "Fine," Natasha huffed, pinching the bridge of her nose. A look of conquest glimmered behind Kaz's eyes. "What was I to you before I came to Ravka? It's apparent you detest my company,"

He tapped his fingertips on the metal railing with his back to Natasha. Suddenly, looking at her made deja vu bulge tortuously inside. "Why would you think that?" Kaz asked. His tone was airy - as if he was joking.

She placed her hand on the railing behind her, tipping her head back to watch the sun stab lucid pigments onto the horizon. "Dear," Natasha sighed. "Where to begin," Kaz's shoulders tensed; he was glad Natasha didn't realise.

"You cringe when you hear my voice. When I'm with Jesper and Nina, it's as if you are - offended at the sight of me - you avoid me like a disease. You don't eat dinner with us because the only spare seat is beside me," Kaz opened his mouth to riposte in his defence, but Natasha raised a finger hushing him.

"Don't deny it, Brekker," As much as she disliked him, his lack of attention towards her burned ever so slightly. In Ravka, she was used to attention - good and cheap. There was never a day that passed where people didn't stop to turn and talk or pay their reverences to the queen of Ravka.

She lowered her hand, motioning that her intense monologue was over. "Was than an appropriate answer to your questions," Natasha said with a voice mocking Kaz's. His brow perked. "Or are you going to chastise me on that too?"

"Not at all," Kaz said. He was beyond furious. "It seems you are flawlessly correct," Whatever repletion she had felt was swallowed immediately. He really did hate her - Natasha didn't understand why his rejection stung.

"What," He drawled, turning to face her. Kaz was taller, towering over her frame until she felt ridiculously inadequate. "Does it hurt that not everyone bothers to be obsessed with you?"

Natasha slapped him - hard.

The noise rang heavy in the dewy morning air. Kaz Brekker allowed himself to smile, a crooked snarl that overwhelmed his features. Then it was gone. He breathed hard, brushing his fingertips across a mark that would hardly even bruise. Kaz wanted to laugh at her contorted, imperceptibly threatened - expression.

He concluded he was unquestionably glad that she was back.

A/N

- It was about time Natasha got her girl boss moment. From now their interactions are going to get a lot more light and playful. If you enjoyed please vote and comment!

- rosa <3