"Wait… so the Master and his men disappeared entirely?" Bard asked, standing on the wooden pier, looking toward where the Master's house had once stood.
"Yeah," one of the townsmen said. "Just… gone."
More people gathered along the planks, murmuring, pointing at the empty space. No wreckage, no fire, nothing left behind. Whatever had happened, it hadn't been normal.
Silence slowly replaced the noise.
Then their attention shifted.
Toward Bard.
It wasn't said out loud, but it didn't need to be. The Master was gone. His men were gone. Without leadership, Lake-town would fall into disorder, and everyone standing there understood it.
Bard saw it in their faces.
Expectation.
They weren't asking yet, but they would.
He looked over the town, at the uneasy people, the uncertainty settling in. This wasn't something that could be ignored or passed to someone else.
Lake-town needed a leader.
And right now, there was only one person they were willing to follow.
Bard exhaled slowly.
'Is this also his doing…' he thought, the image of Luke crossing his mind.
Nothing about that man felt accidental anymore.
At the same time, since his system was fixed, Luke sent Wanda back. What was coming next wasn't something he wanted her involved in. A war was about to break out, and it wouldn't be clean—too many deaths, too much chaos. It wasn't something she needed to see.
On the ruins of Dale, Luke stood looking out in one direction, his attention fixed as he watched the Elves approaching from a distance.
Behind him, Natasha folded her arms, her gaze moving from him to the horizon and back again before she spoke.
"So, tell me a little bit… what are you planning to do with me?" she asked, her tone even, observant.
Luke didn't turn, still watching the movement ahead.
"Well, nothing," he said. "Except what I always do. Flirt… and get shut down by you."
Natasha let out a quiet breath. Not quite a laugh, but close.
"That sounds like you," she said.
"Well," she said, a faint smile forming, subtle but intentional, "why don't you try this time?"
"Ummm…" Luke actually paused, a little caught off guard, and turned his face toward her.
"Wait… are you inviting me to flirt with you?" he asked.
Natasha let out a soft sigh, but the smile stayed, controlled and knowing.
"Wow," Luke said, clearly pleased. "I didn't expect this to work. The famous Black Widow actually falling for me…"
He stepped closer and moved to pull her into a hug.
It didn't happen.
A sword stopped right in front of his face.
Luke caught the blade between both hands just before it could touch him, the edge pressing down as Natasha held it firmly, her stance steady and completely unshaken.
"Dear," Luke said, looking at the sword, then back at her, "what is the meaning of this?"
Natasha didn't lose her smile. If anything, it looked more deliberate now.
"It's that attitude," she said calmly. "You say something decent, and then you immediately ruin it. Makes me question why I even considered it."
Luke didn't release the blade.
"So we're not even going to enjoy a romantic moment before this turns into violence?" he asked.
Her eyes didn't move from his.
"No," Natasha said, her tone simple and final, the sword still pressing down without hesitation.
"You do know even nuclear warheads can't scratch me?" Luke said, looking at the blade between his hands. "And you think this is going to?"
Natasha didn't pull back.
"Yeah," she replied, her voice calm. "That's exactly what I find annoying. So I figured I'd at least try to wipe that smug smile off your face."
Luke's smile didn't fade.
Instead, his grip shifted.
With a slight pull, he dragged the sword along with her, disrupting her balance just enough. Natasha reacted instantly, but the motion had already carried through. The blade slipped from her control, spinning out of her hands and landing a short distance away.
Before she could resist,
She found herself caught.
Luke held her in place, steady, like the entire exchange had just been part of the same movement.
He looked at her, still smiling.
"See?" he said. "Now this looks more like a proper moment."
Natasha didn't panic when the sword slipped away.
She stayed steady in his hold, eyes fixed on his, not struggling or rushing to break free. There was no sign of discomfort, only that same controlled focus she always carried.
"You really don't learn, do you?" she said, her tone quiet but clear.
"I'm trying," Luke replied, not loosening his grip. "You just make it difficult."
She watched him for a moment, studying his face as if weighing something, then let out a small breath.
For a brief moment, she didn't move away, didn't argue, didn't reach for a weapon again. Instead, she stepped closer on her own, closing the space between them. Her hand came up to rest against his shoulder as she leaned in and kissed him.
It wasn't rushed or uncertain. It was deliberate, controlled, like everything else she did.
Then she pulled back just as easily, her expression settling back into its usual calm.
"Don't get used to that," she said, already composed again.
*****
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