Norta, Hall of the Sun - 8:00 am (August 3, 320)

About a week ago one of S.H.I.E.L.D's spies in Norta had reported suspicious activity involving Queen Elara. Almost immediately Fury assigned Natasha Romanoff a mission to go undercover as a red servant by the name of Mare Barrow to keep an eye on the notorious queen from directly inside the palace.

Now Natasha was following a red servant by the name of Ann Walsh through the tangled crowd of servants in the Hall of the Sun. They walked for a few minutes in silence, then Walsh leaned in and whispered some advice to Natasha.

"Say nothing. Hear nothing. Speak to no one, for they will not speak to you." Natasha raised an eyebrow, acknowledging the woman's advice, though she already knew this. Despite being told to hear nothing, Natasha planned on hearing everything.

"You came on a busy day, perhaps the worst we will ever see." Walsh continued.

There's always something happening when I come. The spy thought to herself.

"I saw the boats and airships - Silvers have been going upriver for weeks," Natasha responded, thinking back on the information that she had been given before she left. "More than usual, even for this time of year."

Walsh didn't respond, she just continued walking.

"What's happening today?" Natasha asked. She already knew the answer to this, but asked anyway. Based on the look from Walsh, she had made a mistake. "Is that a stupid question?" She added quickly, hoping to fix her mistake.

"No, I didn't know about it either, not until we started preparing. After all, they haven't had one for twenty years, since Queen Elara was selected. Today is Queenstrial. The daughters of the High Houses, the great Silver families, have all come to offer themselves to the crown prince. There's a big feast tonight, but now they're in the Spiral Garden, preparing to present, hoping to be chosen. One of those girls gets to be the next queen, and they're slapping each other silly for the chance." Natasha listened carefully to the information spilling from Walsh's mouth, information that she already knew.

"What about the other prince, is his wife chosen through the Queenstrial?" Natasha asked. That was a question she had ever since she was debriefed for the mission, a question that was still unanswered.

Walsh frowned, taking a second to think. "I really don't know," she responded finally, pushing a tray of glittering cups into Natasha's hands. "But, you're on serving duty, so you'll get to see for yourself."

With that, Walsh began to walk away.

Natasha's POV

"Wait, aren't you coming?" I could hear the desperation in my voice, not because I wanted Walsh to stay with me, but because I had no clue how to find my way around the palace. But she continued backing away, leaving me alone.

I looked down at my red uniform. Sighing, I forced myself forward, through the doors and out into the sunlight of what was called the Spiral Garden.

As I entered, I looked around, evaluating the space. It looked like an arena. The space curved downward into an immense bowl, tables and plush chairs crowded the spiral of terraces. Plants and fountains trickled down the steps, dividing the terraces into boxes. They joined at the bottom, decorating a grassy circle ringed with stone statues. Ahead of me was a boxed area dripping with red and black silk. Four seats, each one made of unforgiving iron, looked down on the floor. That box had to be where the royal family would sit.

I made a mental note to carefully watch that particular box throughout the event, Elara was sure to sit there.

About half an hour of prepping for Queenstrial later, I followed the other servants to an elevated platform surrounded by sheer curtains. Just as I settled into place, another set of doors opened, directly between the royal box and the servants' entrance.

The Silver High Houses entered as a crowd, in a flock of colors that split around the Spiral Garden with cold grace. The different families, or houses, were easy to spot; they all wore the same colors as each other. Purple, green, black, yellow, a rainbow of shades moved toward their family boxes. I quickly lost count of them all, and as a spy that's not a good thing.

More and more joined the crowd, some stopping to talk, others embracing with stiff arms. This was a party for them. Most probably had little hope to put forth a queen and this was just a vacation. But a few didn't look to be in the celebrating mood. A silver-haired family in black silk sat in focused silence to the right of the royal family's box. The lord of the house had a pointed beard and black eyes. House Samos, I remembered them from when I was debriefed, they were a powerful and well respected high house, members of their house were magnetrons, meaning that they could control and manipulate metal. I made a note to stay away from them, if they detected the gun that I had hidden on me I was done for.

Occasionally, someone pressed a square metal button on their table to flick a light, indicating that they required a servant. Whoever was closest to the door attended to them, and the rest of us shuffled along, waiting for our turn to serve. Of course, the second I moved next to the door, the wretched Lord Samos slapped the button on his table.

Just my luck.

Thank God for my quick feet. I nearly skipped through the crowd, dancing between roving bodies as my heart hammered in my chest in fear of being caught.

"Sir?" I asked, immediately regretting it. Say nothing was the first rule, and I had already broken it.

Thankfully he doesn't notice. "They're toying with us, Ptolemus," he grumbled to the muscled young man next to him. I assumed he was Ptolemus, and therefore heir of House Samos.

"A demonstration of power, Father," Ptolemus replied, draining his own glass. He held it out to me, and I took it without hesitation. "They make us wait because they can."

They were the royals who had yet to make an appearance. They were the whole reason that I was here, specifically the queen.

I wanted to stay and listen to gather more information, but even I knew that was against the rules. I turned around, climbing a flight of steps out of their box. There's a sink hidden behind some brightly colored flowers, probably so I didn't have to go all the way back around the Spiral Garden to refill their drinks. That's when a metallic, sharp tone reverberated through the space, much like a PA system. It chirped a few times, sounding out a proud melody, heralding what must be the entrance of the king. All around, the High Houses rose to their feet, begrudgingly or not. I noticed Ptolemus muttered something to his father again. I wonder what he said.

From my vantage point, hidden behind the flowers, I was level with the king's box and slightly behind it. The perfect spot for a spy like me to gather information without getting caught.

The king entered briskly, shoulders set and straight. His uniform was black and red, with a military cut, though I doubt he had ever spent a single day in the trenches. Badges and medals glittered on his breast, a testament to things he had never done. He even wore a gilded sword despite the many guards around him. The crown on his head was made of twisted red, gold, and black iron, each point a burst of curling flame. It seemed to burn against his inky black hair flecked with grey. How fitting, for the king was a burner, as was his father, and his father before him, and so on. Destructive, powerful controllers of heat and fire. His name had been burned into my memory over the past week. Tiberias Calore the Sixth, King of Norta, Flame of the North. A mouthful if there ever was one. However, I knew him better by the name Cori always called him. Tibe.

The queen followed him, nodding at the crowd. I stopped what I was doing to watch her. Whereas Tibe's clothes were dark and severely cut, her navy and white garb was airy and light. She bowed only to House Merandus. Queen Elara was a very skilled whisper from House Merandus, which meant that she could read and control minds. Cori had told me that her precision was perfect and that if she entered your mind, you wouldn't be able to feel it. She had ash-blond hair, blue eyes, and a pointed smile, making her look like a wild, predatory cat. My job was to watch her and find out what she was up to, without getting her attention.

As intimidating as the royals seemed, they were nothing compared to the guards who followed them. Even though I wasn't a native of the country, I knew who they were. They were the Sentinels, the king's personal guards. They flanked the king in every broadcast, at every speech or decree. Their uniforms looked like flames, flickering between red and orange, and their eyes glittered behind fearsome black masks. Each one carried a black rifle tipped with a gleaming silver bayonet that could cut bone. Their skills were even more frightening than their appearances - elite warriors from different Sliver houses, trained from childhood, sworn to the king and his family for their entire lives. I wonder if they would defend Cori if she returned, or would they side with Elara?

Somewhere deep in the boxes, yelling started. "Death to the Scarlet Guard!" someone shouted, and the others quickly chimed in.

Tibe looked ruffled, paling at the noise. He wasn't used to outbursts like this and almost snarled at the shouts.

"The Scarlet Guard - and all our enemies - are being dealt with!" Tibe rumbled, his voice echoing out among the crowd. It silenced them like the crack of a whip. Are you sure about that Tibe? I think to myself with a smirk. "But that is not what we are here to address. Today we honor tradition, and no Red devil will impede that. Now is the rite of Queenstrial, to bring forth the most talented daughter to wed the most noble son. In this we find strength, to bind the High Houses, and power, to ensure Silver rule until the end of days, to defeat our enemies, on the borders, and within them."

"Strength," the crowd rumbled back at him. They sounded like a cult, and it was frightening. "Power."

"The time has come again to uphold this ideal, and both my sons honor our most solemn custom." He waves a hand, and two figures stepped forward, flanking their father. I couldn't see their faces, but both were tall and black-haired, like the king. They too wore military uniforms. "The Prince Maven, of House Calore and Merandus, son of my royal wife, the Queen Elara."

The second prince, paler and slighter than the other one, raised a hand in stern greeting. He turned left and right, and I caught a glimpse of his face. Though he had a regal, serious look to him, he couldn't be more than seventeen. Sharp-featured and blue-eyed, he could freeze fire with his smile - he despised this pageantry.

"And the crown prince of House Calore and Jacos, son of my late wife, the Queen Coriane, heir to the Kingdom of Norta and the Burning Crown, Tiberias the Seventh."

I paused at the king's statement. "Son of my late wife..." But Cori wasn't dead, had Tibe miss interpret the letter she had left him twenty years ago as a suicide letter?

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Author's Note:

Thank you all for the support, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I own nothing but the plot, all rights go to Victoria Aveyard and the MCU.