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nastybuckybarnes · 2 years

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All The King’s Men - Fourteen

Pairing: Alpha!King!Bucky X Omega!Reader

Summary: Your father always said that if it weren’t for your presentation, he’d think you were an Alpha. There’s a reason for that. Growing up in a world where Omegas are treated like garbage, you’ve fought for the respect that you have. Until you’re sold off to an old King desperate for a bride. But you will not lay down and present for your new husband. No, you will fight back.

Warnings: Angst, Dark Themes, Violence and Injury, ABO Dynamics (Scenting, Marking, Knotting, etc.) Fluff,

Word Count: 3.3K

A/n: I really like this chapter!! We’ve got one more after this and then she’s done!! I’m gonna start my next little things soon, though, so don’t worry! I love you all and I hope you’re having an amazing day/night!

!!DO NOT COPY/TRANSLATE/REPOST MY WORK!!

SERIES MASTERLIST

~*~

“We have discovered my wife’s body, slain, in the woods,” he begins, his eyes cast down on the ground so that his councilmen don’t realize how truly feral he is.

They all bristle slightly at the mention of the Queen’s passing, but none of them even breathe a word for fear of angering the King.

“We know not who has caused this, nor why, but I have men scouring the woods for any trace of the traitors.” It takes a ridiculous amount of self-control to keep his eyes focused on the floor and not let them rise to look at his men.

“I shall travel with my men to Lothiella to honour the Queen, and to allow her parents to say their final goodbyes before we lay her to rest.”

He pauses, allowing his words to take root in their minds while also calming himself down.

You're not dead. You’re very much alive and, soon enough, you’ll be in his arms once more.

“I leave at dusk, and my kingdom will rest in your capable hands while I am away. I trust you to make wise decisions in my absence.”

In truth, he isn’t leaving the Kingdom in their hands. The Kingdom rests on the shoulders of Steve, who is remaining at the Palace to prevent an attack, along with a third of his army, and half the army of Lothiella.

Walking into battle with half the number he trained with isn’t something James is used to, but if that is what it takes to free you, he’s willing to do it.

The remainder of the day is spent preparing his men and himself for the battle that is to come.

A third of his army is spread throughout the village and the Palace, prepared to defend it to their last dying breath, while the rest are mounting their horses.

“You will lead us,” James says to Elden, nodding his respect toward the younger man.

Your brother bows his head in his own show of respect, then leads his mare down the gravel path toward the forest to the west.

They ride in silence for a long while, but as they approach, Elden speaks.

“I can access her through a small window on the north side of the fortress. If you hold the focus of the fight, I will be able to slip in and back out unnoticed.”

James nods his agreement, slowing his horse as a break in the forest comes into sight.

“You find her and you bring her to safety. If I am to fall in battle, we must ensure she survives. For the fate of the entire Kingdom.”

Elden nods sternly, “I will not fail.”

The two royals dismount their horses and walk to the edge of the woods, peering out beyond the trees and down the hill where the fortress lies.

There, as spoken, are the men. Not more than five hundred in number, which is double the amount currently with James.

“They prepare to march,” the King whispers, watching intently as men bustle about, trying to prepare themselves for the coming war.

“They won’t move until they have darkness again. Do you plan to attack in broad daylight?” Elden inquires.

“As soon as the men have rested and regained their strength, I will lead half of them down the hill. The fight will focus on us, so the rest will go around either side and attack when the time is right. We will have them surrounded, and you will be able to go in and out with ease.”

A new set of feet approach the men and they both look to the sound, watching as Natalia peers beyond the trees.

“Is that... Sharon?” She questions softly, her eyes on the blonde beta who is almost like a sister.

“Yes,” James nearly growls.

With a deep breath, he turns away from the fortress to address his men.

“I need archers in the trees, and people on watch. We rest, we eat, and then we fight.”

~*~

“Sir, I have news from Veronia!” A young man exclaims, riding in swiftly on horseback.

The man looks up at the rider, grateful to finally have a distraction from Lady Sharon and all her complaints.

“Yes, what is it?”

He dismounts his horse and approaches the pair.

“The King rides with his guard to Lothiella, the dead Queen in tow.”

Confusion colours all their faces as they exchange glances.

“The Queen remains here, imprisoned, as she should,” Sharon says, confused.

“Aye, I know. So who, then, is he bringing to Lothiella?” The rider asks.

“No one,” The man murmurs, his eyes flickering across the forest and then across his men.

“Someone within these walls is a terrible traitor,” his eyes slowly rise to the rider before him and he unsheathes his sword, following the young man as he takes slow steps back.

“I-I wouldn’t, sir! You know that!”

The older man grabs his collar and yanks him closer.

“Then you will have no issue finding who the traitor is and delivering me their head, will you?”

“N-no m’lord.”

He releases the boy and pushes him back a step, “good. That’s what I thought.”

He turns and storms off, Lady Sharon hot on his heels.

“Something is amiss,” he whispers, mostly to himself, but the broad hears.

“What? What could possibly be amiss? Even if the King is marching this way, we have more men than he could possibly have. We have more resources, and, above all else, we have you.” Her hands curve over his shoulders, caressing him gently, sensually, but he wants none of it.

What he wants is his revenge, served on a silver platter.

“Ready yourself for battle. We cannot wait until the full moon. We must march sooner.”

If it’s true, and the King has made for Lothiella, then that leaves his Kingdom unprotected. And what better time to take it than now? Perhaps he’ll even have an opportunity to enjoy the Queen before King James returns.

“Why march? Why not allow him to bring the fight to us? We have the stronghold, we know the land. He does not.”

“He is a King who knows every inch of his Kingdom. And, if he is to march, he will have the upper hand on the hill. We will be no match for it, regardless of our numbers. Now go. Leave me.”

With a scowl on her face, she does as commanded, leaving to prepare herself for battle.

He stands alone for a long while, a thousand thoughts playing out in his mind and oh, how he wishes she were here.

But if she were, none of this would be happening.

And that is why the King must die.

Why things must change.

Why an empire must fall.

~*~

“You have all followed me here today because you trust me... you believe in me... you believe me to be the King I am. A man who will lead you to victory and to greatness,” James begins, looking out across the sea of men before him.

“This is not a training exercise, nor is it a game. This is a war. One that will be won, not by words, nor by brute strength. It will be won by men! Fighting men who believe in the power and will of the Gods! Men who know better than to turn on their King! It will be won by you lot here! Men with wives, with children! Men who deserve this victory!”

The air is energized quickly as the men get more mentally prepared, inspired by the King’s words.

“I would give my life, protecting my Kingdom. And each of you has shown that you would do the same. And you will be heavily rewarded when we return home! Mount the heads of your enemies on your walls! Feast on the blood spilled from their bodies! Show them no mercy!” He shouts, unsheathing his sword and raising it up to the heavens.

“No mercy!” Swords all raise toward the sky, and James feels hope bloom in his chest as he turns to Elden.

“Start your way down now, but do not enter until you hear the battle start.”

The Prince nods his understanding, his mind focused solely on saving you, no matter the cost.

He could lose his own life and he would not care. As long as you’re safe, that’s all that matters to him.

With a last bow of respect, he slips away from the army and makes his way to the fortress, thanking his lucky stars when he gets to the side of the building without being spotted.

He presses himself against the cold stone exterior, his breath shallow as he waits for the sound of battle.

“Look there! An army!”

He hears the shout from a distance, and then comes the sound of men clamouring to prepare for battle.

“All men out front! Shields up!”

He recognizes that voice as one of the men from the King’s council, and knows then and there that now is his chance.

It’s now or never.

He drops to the ground and pries the bars of the window apart, then slides into the dungeon with grace, dropping to the floor with a soft thud.

“(Y/n)?!” He looks to the cell he remembers you being in, his heart dropping into his stomach when he sees you chained to the ceiling, your face lifeless and cold.

He rushes to you, grabbing a knife from his belt and slicing through the cloth around your wrists.

You tumble into him and he carefully lowers you to the ground, two fingers finding your neck, searching for a pulse.

“(Y/n), please. Please wake up,” he begs, tears threatening to stab at his eyes.

Your brows draw together right as he feels the steady thumping beneath his fingers.

Slowly, your eyes open, foggy at first, but after a few blinks everything clears up.

“Elden?” You ask in a whisper, confused at his presence.

“Yes. I’m here. I’m getting you out of here and returning you to Veronia.”

You push yourself to your knees then attack him in a tight hug, tears quickly flooding your eyes.

“You came back!” You cry, not even bothering to try and hide your true feelings.

He hugs you back tightly, nodding.

“Of course I did. Now come, we must leave, quickly.”

You nod and allow him to help you to your feet, stumbling slightly with every step you take.

Perhaps you should’ve eaten more of the gruel they offered. At least then you’d be able to defend yourself. But instead, here you are, relying on the strength of your brother to get you out of the fortress.

One of his arms stays secured tightly around your waist while the other holds his sword, prepared to slay anyone who gets in his path.

He leads you up a flight of stairs and through a dark corridor, then shoulders open a door into a great hall, only to have a sword pressed to his throat the moment he enters.

“I knew someone would try to free the whore. I half expected it to be the King and, I must say, I’m a little disappointed I won’t be able to slay him where he stands,” she muses, grinning wickedly at the two of you.

Elden slowly releases your waist then swipes his sword upward, knocking hers away from his throat.

He takes a defensive stance in front of you, his attention only half on the battle at hand as he tries with all his might to protect you.

Sharon sidesteps a blow and manages to knock your brother onto his back, swiftly kicking his sword away and rendering him helpless.

“Please, don't!” You try, stumbling forward a step.

“It’s a pity, really. You seem like a decent fellow. And now you must die for the stupidity of your sister.” She raises her sword and goes to strike, and you close your eyes tightly, refusing to witness the murder of your brother. Instead of hearing metal slicing through flesh, you hear the clash of a sword against another sword.

Natalia stands before Sharon, her sword blocking the Beta’s.

Elden scrambles back, grabbing his sword off the ground and rushing to your side again as the redhead and the blonde face off.

“You would fight me, your sister, for a man who cares more about some whore than he does his own people?” Sharon demands, glaring daggers into Natalia’s eyes.

She grinds her teeth together and shakes her head, “no. I would fight you to serve she who is my Queen.”

Elden takes that as his cue to leave, wrapping his warm around your waist and helping you through the great room as Nat keeps Sharon’s attention.

“I do not wish to kill you, sister,” the beta whispers.

Nat only chuckles softly. “You won’t get the chance.”

Their swords clashing is the last thing you hear before Elden gets you outside the fortress and into the fresh air.

You take deep breaths of it, having missed the feeling of the wind on your face, but your relief is short-lived.

Instead of the peace of nature, you’re greeted with a bloodbath.

And, right in the centre, are the two men who have caused you the most pain in your life, fighting each other to the death.

James fights with practiced skill, his age not slowing him like so many believed it would. If anything, it gives him more power than his opponent.

The soldiers around give them a wide berth, knowing that they are each other’s opponents, a kill meant solely for the other.

James swipes the traitor's knees and sends him to the ground, then presses the tip of his sword to the man’s chest.

He pants on the ground, blood dripping down his chin as he grins at the King.

“I understand why you took her the way you did, now,” he begins, ignoring the anger in the King’s eyes. “Why you forced her to submit. She looked so pretty, screaming and crying and begging me to stop. But I didn’t. Because she deserves to be treated like the filthy, worthless whore she is!” He spits the words -and a bit of blood- into James’ face, and the King is enraged.

A roar tears from his throat as his eyes burn brighter than the fiery pits of hell, any shred of humanity gone as his Alpha takes over completely.

He tosses his sword aside and pounces on the man, laying punch after painful punch to his face and neck and anywhere he can reach.

He doesn’t care if it isn’t honourable. He doesn’t care if it’s weak.

All that matters is punishing the man who hurt his Omega.

You watch in horror as your Alpha beats on the man who hurt you.

Dragging Elden through the battle, you move as quickly as you can toward them.

“Stop!” You shout, your voice stronger than you thought it would be.

It carries out on the wind, across the courtyard, and many men do, indeed, stop.

Your husband is one of them.

With his fist raised and ready to strike again, he stops, snapping his gaze to the source of your voice.

Everything seems to pause as you approach, pushing away from Elden to walk on your own, determination and anger fuelling you.

Your eyes sting and clouds cover the skies as the Gods mirror your wrath.

“I should do to you exactly what it is you did to me,” you hiss at the man on the ground, pulling a sword from a corpse as you pass it and approach him.

“I should beat you senseless,” you spit, the fire in your voice rivalling that in your husband's eyes.

“I should take you against your will, force you to do things you’d sooner die than do!” You stop before him, sword held tightly in your hand as you press it to his throat.

James rises silently and steps back, allowing you to do whatever it is you please to the man.

“I should strip from you your pride, your dignity! Steal your hope and your faith until you are nothing but a shell of who you once were! And then, when you are begging for a fate so kind as death, I will not grant it.”

You lean down slightly so that your face is closer to his and drop your voice to a whisper, your bottom lip quivering.

“But I will not. Because I am not like you.”

You toss the sword aside and rise to your full height again.

“You will answer for your crimes the way all criminals do. And you will die a pointless, senseless death. Without honour, without victory. Your name will not be breathed of in the history of this country, and your very existence will be erased. All this,” you motion around you, to the fighting that has ceased, “will have been for nothing.”

Fury gathers on the man’s face as you step back again, your husband nodding toward him.

“Bind him and bring him to the dungeon.”

Two men grab him and drag him out of your line of sight, but you can hear them treating him roughly.

Good, you think.

Your hands tremble slightly and the weight of everything that has happened slowly slips from your shoulders, only to be replaced by the familiar and welcome weight of your husband’s hands.

“Omega,” he whispers, turning you to face him.

You look up at him with wide tear-filled eyes and bury yourself in his chest.

He’s caught off guard for only a moment before wrapping you in a tight hug, squeezing you as if he’s trying to melt your body into his.

Tears rain down your face when you pull away to look up at him, and he immediately leans down to nuzzle against your bond mark.

He kisses and licks it, scenting you thoroughly and calming down the raging alpha within himself.

Once he’s satisfied that you smell of nothing but him, he pulls away slightly and gazes lovingly into your eyes, tears on his own cheeks.

“Omega,” he repeats, stroking your cheek gently.

You lean into his touch and reach up with hesitant fingers, tracing over his lips gingerly.

“Alpha,” you reply, lost in the feeling of having him again.

He shakes his head and brings his forehead down to rest against yours, squeezing his eyes shut.

“I thought... I thought I’d lost you forever,” he confesses.

You lean up to brush your lips against his, “I’m here, Alpha. You saved me.”

A growl rumbles in his chest and he wraps his arms around your frame again, needing to feel you against him.

You rest your head on his chest, listening to the steady thumping of his heart as he addresses his men.

“Any man who wishes to fight against us may do so. But he will be killed, along with his family.”

Not a single man moves a muscle.

“That’s what I thought. Round up the traitors, bind them all. They will be tried when we return,” he says to Sam, his hands never leaving you.

“Go home, Your Majesty. Be with your Omega. We can handle this,” Elden says softly, stepping forward and placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

James bows his head in gratitude and nods his agreement, taking your hand and leading you away from the bloody field.

He helps you onto his horse then climbs on in front of you, waiting until your arms are wrapped around his waist before he begins the journey home.

Upon his horse, with your arms around him and your head pressed against his back, your inner omega finally feels peace.

#bucky x reader #alpha!bucky x reader #alpha!king!bucky x omega!reader #alpha!king!bucky x reader #king!bucky x princess!reader #bucky x reader abo au #bucky x reader abo #alpha!Bucky x omega!reader #bucky/reader #bucky/you #Steve Rogers/you #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky/y/n #bucky x reader royal au #bucky x reader princess au #bucky x reader king au

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bucky-h0e · 1 year

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Of Summer Days and Winter Nights

Medieval Fantasy AU! Knight Bucky x Princess Reader

Synopsis:

As courting season approaches, King Clement II wishes to find a lover for his dear daughter, Y/n. She will be Queen of their land, one day in the distant future, one who serves their people well. But he knows the hardships all too well; he knows his daughter just as well. These hardships are meant to be shared, a ruler meant to be supported by the ones they love, but he will not always be around for her. So, he calls for a festival to celebrate the season, inviting all available bachelors and bachelorettes to his kingdom, he prays for someone to catch the eye of his precious girl.

He just did not anticipate it being one of the three most well known knights of the realm. One Sir James 'Bucky' Barnes.

Masterlist

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Taglist: OPEN

@thehumanistsdiary @browneyedgirl22 @tf-is-fanfic @jenn-f @melsunshine

A/N:

Hi everyone! This will be my very first attempt at writing a written fic, so please have patience with me. Chapters may be slow coming out, most likely two weeks apart, however I will send some notifications out. I am hoping for it to only be a short series and that you'll enjoy it!

If you would like to be added to the taglist, then please let me know! I will eventually do requests but I'd like to get this series started first! Please be sure to like it, reblog it or comment if you enjoyed it!

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deliciousangelfestival · 6 months

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His Silly Princess | Bucky (Oneshot)

Character: Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Reader

Words Count: 1,671

Summary: A modern royal love story. A naive princess who wants to get away from an arranged marriage. She never knew that her guard had loved her since the beginning.

Main Masterlist || support me: Ko-fi

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more.

Zylovia is a country where monarchy still exists. It’s a developed country located near Western Europe.

It’s a prosperous country, and the number of unemployed is also the lowest. Tourists love coming here for the casino, race car, and music festival.

But this country has one outdated rule. It didn’t apply to the citizens. Only for the royal family.

“If the female royal member marries a commoner, she will lose her status."

You learned that rule when you were 12 years old as the youngest siblings and Princess Zylovia. You didn't put a deep thought into it.

But now, when you are almost 30 years old, and your older siblings are already married, you think this is good for you.

Because you realize you’re not fit to do the duty as a princess.

Your oldest brother has prepared since he was a kid to be the king. When he reaches the age of 40, he will be crowned as the king. Your second brother will be the second commander in the military.

While you have a job as a painting conservator at the museum, your duty as a princess is to welcome the official foreign guest at the castle. You learned some languages, but you’re not allowed to give any opinion on politics.

You don’t hate being a royal, but sometimes you feel like living in a golden cage.

And finally, you had enough because, on your recent birthday, your parents talked to you about marriage.

The king and queen don’t want to be separated from their youngest daughter, but they hint that they wish for her future husband from the royal circle. In other words: arranged marriage.

You clenched your jaw while smiling at your parents. If the man from the royal circle is a real gentleman, you wouldn’t mind.

But the problem is, please pardon the harsh language; none of the men from the royal family are your type.

Your type of man must have a stable job, look good in suits, and have a nice body.

That’s why, for a couple of days, you’ve made a list of potential future husbands. After you write it, you realize most of the men are from the knights. Perhaps because you always went to meet your second brother at the military training ground, so you know some people.

Steve Rogers

[Friendly, not married, nerd, loves to paint like me]

Ari Levinson

[Funny, beautiful hair, handsome]

‘Knock, knock!’ Suddenly, someone knocked on your door.

“Come in.”

You didn’t have to turn around to see who it was. You have known him for years, and your ears are familiar with the sound of his footsteps.

The person who walked into your room has been your exclusive bodyguard for years - James Barnes, but you always call him Bucky his nickname.

Bucky is a commoner and an elite soldier. If there’s a shooting competition, he will be in the top three. Your second brother always hates him.

He has received many medals of honors, but he rejects a knight title from your father. You don’t understand why he declined the offer. If he received it, he could enter politics, and he doesn’t have to follow her around anymore.

He’s tall, handsome, with perfect blue eyes and has fine muscles on his body. Bucky also has a primarily female fanbase when he wears the military uniform and rides a horse at the independence ceremony.

He became a celebrity overnight.

But you have never seen or heard any rumor about him with a woman.

“Your highness, in two hours you are going to attend the tennis tournament.”

You dropped the pen and dropped your head to the table. “Urgh. Do I have to?”

Bucky chuckled when he saw you unwilling to go. One thing you hate about your duty is to be the guest at the tennis game. You prefer to watch the race car, but it's reserved for your brother's.

Even though you didn’t want to go, you still dragged your feet to the dressing room to grab your coat.

When you were searching for the right outfit, you suddenly remembered. “Oh no!” You didn’t hide the potential list that you just wrote. You wish you could dig your own grave and disappear.

And you were right; Bucky saw your writing. He furrowed his eyebrows while he read your paper. “What’s this? Potential man for marriage?”

You stand beside him; you don’t know why you feel scared. This is the first time you have seen him like this.

His slender, pointed fingers scratched the two names with his nails. There’s a big X on your paper.

“Don’t marry any of those men.”

“Why?”

A small smile appeared on his lips, along with a soft voice, “Steve hasn’t moved on from his last girlfriend, and Ari, he loves to drink alcohol. I know you hate the smell of alcohol.”

You felt disappointed; you crumpled the paper and threw it into the trash.

“Marriage? Why all of a sudden?” There's an annoyed tone in his voice.

You rubbed your head and muttered, “I need to get married sooner, or my parents will arrange marriage for me, their friend's kid. And you know the truth, I had enough of being a princess.”

Bucky crossed his arms. “But, why them?”

“What?”

He clenched his fist; Bucky stared at her with an annoyed expression. “Why didn't you put me on the list?”

“....”

You waved your hand. “It doesn’t matter, as long as I got married.”

“So, would you like to marry me?”

Are you having hallucinations? Did Bucky just propose to you?

Bucky got on his knees. “Let’s get married.”

You still haven’t come to your senses. Bucky started talking again. “Think about it. Both of us have known each other for a long time. We’ve known each other's likes and dislikes. We’ve been through many things together.”

He’s right. He’s the safest choice if you want to marry someone. You shrugged your shoulders and accepted his hand. “Alright.”

Bucky's beautiful smile appeared on his face. Before he shook your hand, he felt you slightly pull his hand. When you saw him smile, your heart raced. “But, if in the end, we don’t like each other, please wait after three years, then we could get a divorce.”

Bucky chuckled; his attractiveness is not just in his physical appearance but also in his ability to manage his emotions gracefully and restraintfully. He leaned closer to you, and his hands gently grabbed your chin.

As his calloused hand touched your skin, a subtle warmth spread on your cheeks. You could feel you're blushing. “Silly girl, it will never happen.”

#######

[Bucky P.O.V]

Then he rests your arms on his. “Then you have the excuse to skip the tournament.”

“Hmm?”

“We should inform this first to His Majesty and Her Majesty.”

“Oh, right.” You nodded, then looked straight into his blue eyes again. “This soon?”

********

When both of you walk through the hallway to meet the King and Queen, Bucky tries his best to calm down. He almost lost his common sense when he saw you write another man's name, and there’s a word of ‘potential husband.’

He looks at you and thinks ‘his silly princesses didn’t realize his feelings for her.’

Didn’t she know he declined the offer to be a knight so he could be her guard?

If he became a knight, he would work with her second brother. That’s the last thing he wants to do.

“So, Bucky, don’t worry about money. When I resign as a princess, the kingdom will give us money.”

Bucky chuckled, seeing his sweet princess worried about their future, “That’s so sweet of you. But you don’t need to worry about that.” He gently patted her arms. He wants to tell you that he owns the famous casino in this kingdom and 5-star hotel chains in a few countries.

When both of you are married, Bucky will ensure you don’t have to work anymore. He is pretty sure that her parents will give their blessings even though he’s a commoner (and he’s super rich). The royal family has outdated rules, but because of it, he could marry you.

Both of you arrived at the king's office room. The guards bowed their heads to greet you. Then you said, “Princesses Y/N and her guard. Wait… and her future husband, James Barnes wants to meet the king.”

The guards and the butler who opened the door lost their composure. They should have known from your body language walking here together hand in hand when usually Bucky always stands behind you.

This news is shocking compared to the crown prince, who got caught partying too hard and the second prince, who had a messy love life before he got married.

It seems like your father, the King, hears your voice. Before the castle butler tells him, you hear the gentle voice, “Come in.”

########

[2 years later]

It's the biggest headline in the country after you gave birth. You feel overwhelmed; you can't believe that you're parents now.

The King and Queen hold your oldest son, while Bucky has the youngest son in his arms.

Bucky's eyes are full of love, looking both at his sons. He was almost scared to death since you gave birth one month early. But the doctor assured both of you this is normal since you're pregnant with twins.

Even though you're not a princess, you're still surrounded by your family.

And Bucky still treats you like a princess. You almost lost your mind when he told you his business, which turned into your parents, and your brothers already know it, too.

You want to knock your head; you didn't even know Bucky's business helped increase the country's GDP.

Everyone said Bucky was the lucky guy to marry the former princess, but they were wrong. It's you who is lucky to marry him.

-End-

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#bucky imagine #bucky fic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x female reader #bodyguard!bucky #bodyguard!bucky x princess!reader #sebastian stan characters #sebastian stan #james buchanan barnes #the winter soldier #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes imagine

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littlebabyyd0ll · 7 months

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mdni 18+! seriously pls go away if ur under 18! fall works for every day of october! some scary, some cozy, and almost always smutty. probably shouldn’t have called this ‘kinktober’ as not every day will be a kink, yolo. a lot of works will include ddlg themes, size kink, daddy kink, fem!reader and hyper feminine themes. you are responsible for your own media consumption. all pieces will have warnings at the beginning of their works. wishing you all the spookiest, ghoulish october ever! 🙀

masterlist ! navigation ! support my work

01. The Lion and The Lamb, Part One. (vampire!king!eddie munson x princess!reader)

02. Subdrop (dom!steve harrington x sub!reader)

03. Sapphic Age Gap (MILF!Nancy Wheeler x reader)

04. Trick or Treat (Daddy!Bucky Barnes x Little!reader) [plot has changed to a halloween party!]

05. First time parents (Dad!Steve Harrington x Mum!reader)

06. Sugar Daddy (CEO!Steve Rogers x reader)

07. Size Kink (Daddy!Ari Levinson x reader)

08. Overstimulation (Bodyguard!James Potter x Princess!reader)

09. Age Gap (DILF!Joel Miller x reader)

10. Dacryphilia (Daryl Dixon x younger!reader)

11. Hot cocoa and kisses (Daddy!Ari Levinson x Little!reader)

12. Mommy Kink (Nancy Wheeler x reader)

13. Daddy Kink (Daryl Dixon x reader)

14. Dry Humping (Eddie Munson x reader)

15. The Lion and The Lamb, Part Two. (Vampire!King!Eddie Munson x Princess!reader)

16. Stockholm Syndrome (dark!rick Grimes x reader)

17. Make-up sex (Remus Lupin x reader)

18. Cock Warming (Ron Weasley x reader)

19. A/B/O (Alpha!Steve Harrington x reader)

20. Babysitter (Joel Miller x reader)

21. Serial Killers (Ghostface!Steve Harrington x Ghostface!Eddie Munson x reader)

22. Safe Word (Steve Harrington x crybaby!reader)

23. Body Worship (Joel Miller x reader)

24. On The Run (Psycho!Eddie Munson x Psycho!reader)

25. Dumbification (Daryl Dixon x crybaby!reader)

26. Stepbrother (Stepbrother!Peter Parker x Stepsister!reader)

27. Thigh Riding (Dom!Remus Lupin x Sub!reader)

28. Brat Taming (Dom!Eddie x Sub!reader)

29. Refrigerator light (Dad!Steve Harrington x Mum!reader)

30. Pet Play (Dom!Bucky Barnes x Sub!reader)

31. The Lion and The Lamb, Part Three. (Vampire!King!Eddie x Princess!reader)

284 notes · View notes

talesofadragon · 11 months

Text

𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐍𝐞𝐞𝐝

Synopsis: The Kingdom of Brooklyn needs a queen, and the Royal Council needs a noble princess. As for newly crowned King Steven Rogers, he needs a love that rebels against conformity, granting him the solace he yearns for. So what happens when all he needs is not what his kingdom wants?

Pairing: King!Steve Rogers x Chambermaid!Reader

Warnings: None.

Genre: Angst | Fluff

Word Count: 6.1K

Author’s Notes: Requested by the sweetest @crazyunsexycool. Thank you, Val, for this wholesome idea! To all Marvel fans out there, go check out her incredible work!🩵

All Masterlists | Steve Rogers Masterlist

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐔𝐋 and deceiving word in history will evermore be art. At first glance, it’s enticing, delicate, and memorable. A barrage of emotional responses to the tragedies and the grievances of life. Whether in color or in monochrome, in words or emotions, art is a melodrama that lures you in, pulls you toward its undertow. Until there comes a time when you realize that all these stories were never quite this scintillating, they just were.

“Your Majesty.”

Steve shakes his head as the voice registers in his mind. It takes him a fleeting moment, about five seconds, to realize that he stands within the confines of his chambers. The vibrant rays of the morning sun cascade through the windows, casting an ardent glow. Another five minutes elapse as Steve blinks away his confusion, his gaze withdrawing from the withered pages of his sketchbook, evidence of the relentless assault of his charcoals and ink.

“Maiden Katherine,” he acknowledges the chambermaid in his room. Her eyes are downcast, evading his cerulean hues. “Pardon me, what was it that you said?”

The young woman gasps, though covers it quickly with a cough. Her errant gaze lands briefly on Steve before it strays away once more. “Your Majesty, I was merely asking if you needed anything more.”

A fleeting furrow emerges between Steve's eyebrows, and he casts a swift glance around the room. To his surprise, he finds it immaculate, untouched by the tumultuous night he had spent, forming dents in his rugs and battling wars within the confines of his sheets.

As Steve turns his gaze toward Maiden Katherine, a gentle smile graces his lips. Unable to discern the woman's face due to her position, he finds himself succumbing to a glimmer of hope, however fleeting and insubstantial. Within the recesses of his imagination, he relishes the liberty to conjure an image of someone entirely different, a figure who embodies the yearnings of his heart.

“No,” he says, somewhat resentfully. Because his needs are conditional, and what he truly desires cannot be attained beyond the realm of his mind. “That will be all. Thank you.”

Maiden Katherine dutifully bows to her king, leaving him to his own devices. As soon as the door closes, Steve reaches back to trace the somber outlines of his sketchbook. Once more, his mind veers away from the confines of his chambers, transporting him to a realm far brighter.

SEVENTEEN YEARS AGO

King Joseph and Prince Steven are a juxtaposition.

The King is the valiant moon. The Prince is the selfless sun. The former breathes preservation and prowess, while the latter longs for equilibrium and benevolence. And no matter their dualism, King Joseph sees otherwise, constantly building bridges upon bridges to force his son to concede and meet him. Not in the middle, but where he stands—light years away.

Steve, though ten years old, has a keen sense of understanding. His mother, Sarah, never misses a chance to remind him that he’s a whirlwind for this world, and he couldn’t possibly disagree.

When, like today, the pressures of the crown seem too hard to grapple with, Steve decides to step away. Not forever. Just a little while, until he’s able to face them all again.

He’s at the Royal Gardens, a place he hasn’t visited since last spring after his allergies restricted him to his room. Now, almost a year later, he comes back, disappointed to see that his favorite tree has grown faster than he has.

Steve approaches it, hands on hips and lips pursed in thought. How am I supposed to climb it now? he asks himself. He wishes Bucky was here, but he knows his best friend has sparring lessons, so he tries his very best to follow his own lead and climb it.

He tries to climb, and he manages to pull himself up, but three branches and a half are more than enough to steal his breath. He sighs, seeing that he can’t climb higher. His hands ache from the effort.

Just as Steve contemplates his next move, a small voice calls out, “What are you doing up there, silly?” Startled, he turns his gaze downward, meeting a pair of eyes that feel both familiar and unknown.

“Who are you?” he asks the young girl in the blue dress. He knows she’s not a princess from the fabric’s quality, though her charming face suggests otherwise.

“I asked you first.”

Steve laughs at the girl’s spirited nature. “I am sitting.” She narrows her eyes, unsatisfied with his response. “I like sitting up here. The tree overlooks the castle grounds. It’s nice.”

The girl hums, accepting his answer. She looks up and then around before meeting his eyes again. “Do you care for some company?”

Steve would normally say no. Aside from Bucky, he doesn’t like to spend time with anyone. But the little girl seems nice and curious, something he decides that he likes about her. So he nods his head.

He watches the faint smile on her lips as she holds tightly to the nearest branch and places her weight on it. Within a couple of seconds, she perches herself on the branch facing him.

“Hi.”

“Hi!” she giggles, kicking her feet in the air. Now that she’s closer, he can see that she’s much smaller than him. A few years younger too. He watches her lean against the tree’s trunk, gazing around with pure wonder. “You’re right. It is quite nice here.”

Steve shares a laugh with her before speaking again. “Who are you?”

“I’m Y/N,” she announces confidently. He likes it. Both her name and her attitude. “And you?”

He bites the inside of his cheek. Steve has been conditioned to answer this question in one way only: Crown Prince Steven Grant Rogers of Brooklyn. But he’s scared that if Y/N hears this, she might jump down and leave him alone.

He thinks she’s adorable and kind. Definitely someone Bucky is going to like. So, instead, he says something else. Something he’s never said to anyone. “I’m Steve.”

“Nice to meet you, Steve! How old are you?”

“I’m ten,” he replies apprehensively. He knows that he looks much younger because of his height and weight.

Y/N seems to disagree, marveling at his answer. She beams, kicking her legs higher. “I’m six. Is it nice to be ten? My momma says the number ten is a two-digit number, so it’s bigger than six.”

Steve barely blinks before a soft chuckle escapes his lips. He leans forward a little bit, making sure not to fall. Y/N is sitting there with anticipation governing her features, eagerly waiting for an answer.

“It’s nice. I can retire to bed a bit later than usual.” That seems to satisfy Y/N, who claps excitedly in response. “I have never seen you before,” Steve then remarks.

Y/N hums. “My momma is Queen Sarah’s new chambermaid. I came to the castle with her.”

“Oh.”

Y/N nods. “And you? Does your momma work here, too?”

“Somewhat, yes,” Steve replies. A comfortable silence stretches for a while, both kids hidden amongst the tree branches, listening to the humming of the birds and the voices of the wind.

The birds fly around, some even landing atop the tree and catching Y/N’s attention. She marvels at them, then she suddenly stands up, looking at Steve.

“It must be nicer up there for the birds to sit. Shall we go see?”

Steve hesitates. His blue eyes fill with apprehension as they count the number of branches left. There are six in total, two more than there were last spring. The tree is not too far from the ground, yet high enough for Steve to break his bones if he decides to venture up.

“I can’t climb that high,” he sighs dejectedly.

Y/N cranes her head to study Steve’s face. “Do you want to?” she asks to which he nods. “Then of course you can. You simply need a little help.”

She says it so lightheartedly and surely, it makes Steve’s heart soar. Y/N braces herself and climbs one more branch. She extends her hand, palm open for Steve to take. He hesitates, knowing he shouldn’t and that his father will surely scold him for his actions.

Y/N shakes her hand once, silently asking him to take it. Without thinking much, Steve does. Two minutes later, he finds himself atop the tree with two birds and a new friend.

PRESENT DAY

Steve exhales loudly, his gaze fixed upon the tree etched within the pages of his sketchbook. He traces the delicate curves with his eyes, although he knows them by heart. Every intricate detail is etched into his memory from the countless days spent perched upon the tree’s branches alongside Y/N.

With a wistful glance, he closes the sketchbook and casts it aside, a reminder that before this artful piece and the memories it holds existed, there only ever was an unadorned tree.

“Your Majesty, I can say with absolute certainty that if you continue to wear that expression, it won't be long before the entire court assumes the Robe Bearers have skillfully concealed a stick within your regal attire.”

“Bucky,” Steve grumbles. Though when he catches his reflection in the mirror, he relents, knowing his best friend, and Lord High Constable, isn’t all too wrong. He raises his hand to dismiss his attendants. They bow and exit, leaving the two men alone. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be anywhere else?”

Dramatically as always, Bucky covers his heart with his palm. He looks down, seemingly wounded, before his cobalt blue eyes lift. “I am deeply wounded by your implicit dismissal and your forthright irritation, My King.”

Steve rubs a hand down his face. He has endured twenty-seven years with this man, and sometimes, he wonders if befriending Lord James Buchanan Barnes was a good idea. He knows him all too well now. And if those remarks are any indication, Bucky is, without a doubt, mere seconds away from asking him what’s wrong.

So Steve speaks his mind before the questions begin. “Must I attend this ball?”

“You are the King,” Bucky replies. “And tonight you shall not only be celebrated but you shall also—”

“Subdue to the Royal Council’s wishes and secure the future of the throne.”

Steve’s words have a bite to them. They’re sharp and terse, accentuating the resentment he feels toward this ordeal. He walks away from Bucky, attempting to gather his wits before saying anything else. He sits down on his large bed, one hand on his knee and the other holding his chin.

“Do not think of it this way.”

“How else must I think of this when I have no say?”

“Perhaps you don’t have the freedom of choice when it comes to the matter, but you still have a choice, Steve,” Bucky reminds him. He joins his side, sitting next to him on the edge of the bed. He taps him on the shoulder, letting his hand linger there. “The Council has dictated that you shall marry, but only you shall choose who.”

You couldn’t be more wrong, Steve says to himself. He looks away, the words a sharp slap to his face. He’s never been one for conformity, and Bucky knows this. He’s aware of Steve’s rebellious tendencies and audacious disregard for the Crown's decisions.

Steve knows what this kingdom needs—what queen it longs to have. So why should it be one of noble descent when it could be one of noble spirit? What significance holds the nature of her blood, when in truth, we are all blood in nature?

“If the choice was truly mine, I would choose no one but her.”

His eyes are still errant, following a pathway of their own. Though he can’t see it, he feels Bucky’s heavy gaze on him.

“I should have known you were thinking of Y/N back then,” Bucky comments. He nudges Steve’s shoulder with his until the King concedes and gives the Lord his full attention. He remains quiet, though his eyes say it all. “When are you never thinking about her?”

“How is she faring?” Steve asks. Each letter is spelled with a plethora of emotions. Carved with longing and desire. It has been a considerable length of time since Steve last laid eyes upon Y/N. Ever since his father banished her to a distant corner of the castle, accompanied by strict instructions to avoid any form of interaction with Steve.

“Well. Though it is beyond evident that she misses you terribly. The mention of you is the only thing that seems to brighten her day.”

The answer draws a small smile on Steve’s face. He nods, his mind already taking a trek on its own accord, reminiscing the days Steve had spent with Y/N growing up, picturing her dulcet smile and the light that inhabited her eyes.

Steve has forever been a captive of duty. The blood coursing through his veins tethers him to the crown while unwavering loyalty anchors him to his kingdom. His spirit, alas, was never truly his own, and his heart had long been barricaded by the Council. However, within his mind, a sanctuary exists where his thoughts could roam, untamed and unrestrained, as they collide and soar amidst the vivid memories of Y/N and the alluring freedom she perpetually bestows.

He is on the cusp of replying. With what, he isn't quite sure yet. The mere thought of Y/N has left him momentarily speechless, his mind struggling to find the right words. But the insistent knock on his door reverberates louder than any words he could muster.

“Enter,” Steve says as Bucky straightens and stands up.

The door opens and in walks Peter, one of the new guards in Brooklyn. “Your Majesty.” Peter bows. “Lord Barnes.”

“What is it, Peter?” Steve asks.

“His Majesty, King Father Joseph, is requesting your presence.”

Something within Steve throbs, an ache that resonates through his being. His father possesses an innate knack for impeccable timing, a seemingly supernatural ability to intrude upon Steve's most cherished moments.

Reluctantly, Steve pushes himself up and follows Peter to his father's quarters. He treads the well-worn path, the bitterness seeping through every step. The portraits lining the walls and the chandeliers adorning the taupe ceilings are all too familiar, etched into his memory from countless prior journeys.

His footsteps weigh heavily upon the carpet, each one echoing his disdain for the impending encounter. He takes in a deep breath, steeling himself before the guards deliver a resounding knock, heralding his arrival. With a measured breath, he crosses the threshold and enters the room.

Upon doing so, the pain within him heightens, intensifying to a raw and poignant state. It feels as if every fiber of his being wants to claw its way out from within. His gaze fixates on his father, who lies weak and feeble on the bed, attended to by hovering nurses. Yet, within Steve's mind, contrasting images begin to form.

He envisions himself from years past, confined to his own bed, accompanied by illness and fragility as constant companions. But gradually, the image takes on a bitter-sweet memory.

SEVEN YEARS AGO

Steve shakes, uncertain whether it's the cold air or his nightmares that make him tremble. His room feels empty and lonely since his mother's departure, and his father is too busy to give him a second thought. Bucky is off with the troops, stuck in endless meetings. The looming war hangs heavy in the air, and Steve's father has made his choice of soldier, and it's not him.

Steve hates it. Hates being so useless. He cannot even fight for his kingdom, so how is he supposed to rule it one day? He huffs an exasperated sigh, turning around in his sheets. He shuts his eyes, partially because he wants to sleep and purely because he’s trying to force himself not to cry.

It’s not working, though, as he feels the world closing in. The ceiling’s shadows are suddenly creeping closer, and the walls are wailing as they speed ahead. The door to his chambers squeaks, and he thinks it’s flying off its hinges. But in an unexpected shift, the world around him takes on a different hue, one that brings a soothing and calming sensation he didn't anticipate.

“Stevie.” His eyes snap open, and in that instant, he becomes aware of the rapid pounding of his heart.

“Y/N?”

“I heard you weren’t feeling your best.” Y/N smiles sheepishly. She moves a strand of her long wavy hair away, taking a tentative step closer. “I thought, perhaps, you needed some company.”

Steve wants to say a lot of things. But seeing her in her long blue-green dress made him fall quiet. He’s always loved that color on her. It’s his favorite.

You look beautiful, he tries to say. I have missed you. How are you faring? But nothing of the sort comes out.

“You will be in trouble if you get caught,” he hears himself say. Instantly he regrets it. But Y/N doesn’t seem to mind.

She shakes her head and moves closer. “Being with you is no trouble at all, my prince," she murmurs, settling down beside him and clasping his hand in her own. Steve occasionally wishes his hands were larger, more powerful. He feels a pang of shame for the thoughts that have crossed his mind, imagining the different ways his hands would hold her and explore every inch of her being.

His temperature rises at the thought, and even Y/N feels it. She hovers over him, pressing her lips sweetly to his forehead. His eyes close involuntarily. One of his hands weekly clutch Y/N’s own while the other fists her dress. Steve moans under his breath. “You are burning up,” she says with concern lacing her tone. She moves away, and Steve instinctively reaches for her. She sees the worry in his eyes, deciding to brush it away by running her fingers through his hair. “I will not leave, Your Highness.”

“Y/N,” he grumbles weakly.

Y/N smiles, reaching for the bowl of water and the wet rag left behind. “I will not leave you, Steve. I promise.”

PRESENT DAY

“Steve,” King Joseph calls.

Steve is engulfed in a whirlwind of internal battles, ignited by his father's actions that have shattered everything. Promises that were never his to break have been torn apart, and as a result, Steve decides that he's unable to forgive him. He feels no trace of mercy toward him. No trace of love.

The coronation ball is a spectacle of extravagance, opulence, and sheer absurdity. The entire Brooklyn Court has gathered along with monarchs from neighboring kingdoms.

King Stark graces the event with his Queen and their young Princess, joined by King Thor, Queen Sif, and Prince Loki. Steve's gaze catches sight of his trusted Lord Chancellor, Samuel “Sam” Wilson, engaged in conversation with his father and the King of Wakanda.

And though he cannot see him, he knows Bucky must be lurking in the shadows, sharing a hidden moment with Princess Romanoff.

Steve lingers for a few moments before revealing his presence. He stands atop the banister, peering down at the chaos he is about to face. His gaze sweeps across the room, longing for a glimpse of someone familiar, although deep down he knows it's merely a futile hope.

With a heavy sigh, he descends the stairs, fully aware that his destiny lies in wait.

"Announcing His Royal Majesty, King Steven Grant Rogers."

The music begins, and the doors swing open. Steve steps forward, discomforted by the weight of all the attention upon him. He offers nods as others bow and curtsy, attempting to keep a smile on his face. Reaching the throne, he settles into it with more haste than necessary. As soon as he is seated, his subjects rise from their positions.

"Thank you all for joining us tonight," he declares, projecting his voice with a hint of implicit hesitation. “We’re honored to welcome you to Brooklyn Palace. Please, do enjoy yourself. May this merry occasion pave the way ahead for our kingdom.”

The crowd cheers enthusiastically, chanting Steve’s name and singing his praises. They raise their hands in the air and clap without restraint, though Steve doesn’t hear them. He’s out of tune with his senses, his consciousness hauntingly distant. Suddenly and prematurely, he’s thrust back into the moment. He doesn’t know how to react when Princess Sharon enters his line of sight.

“Your Majesty,” she curtseys. Steve has always noticed that she overdoes it, lowering herself far more than necessary. Sam once remarked she did it to appear meek and subdued—traits many men apparently seek in a woman—Bucky, on the other hand, remarked that she was desperate for attention.

“Princess Carter.”

“Sharon, Your Majesty,” she rectifies while meeting his eyes. “You may call me Sharon. If you please, Your Majesty.”

To his ears, it’s more of a plea than anything else. Which is why he doesn’t recede. Engaging in idle conversation with her isn't what he desires, for he can already discern the thoughts swirling within her mind, mirroring the thoughts of many other women in the palace. His father had made it unequivocally clear that Steve cannot rule without a queen by his side.

“Your Majesty,” Sharon’s voice beckons. Steve gazes at her, failing to mimic her enthusiasm. “Are you not going to ask me to dance?”

No, he feels the need to say. I do not wish to dance with anyone. But the musicians are getting ready and his father is pinning him down with a glare.

Reluctantly, he extends his hand and picks Sharon’s. “Of course.” Steve kisses the back of her hand. Carefully, he leads her to the dance floor, front and center, waiting for everyone to join.

Bucky stands to his right and Sam to his left. Facing them are Princess Natasha and Duchess Wanda, respectively. Kings Tony, Thor, and T'Challa join next, accompanied by their Queens.

Gradually, the room transforms into a parade of eager guests, lining up in anticipation of the forthcoming dance. A cacophony of music erupts, and the rhythm permeates the air, setting the stage for a whirlwind of movement.

The men bow with a flourish, while the ladies curtsy in graceful synchronization. In the timeless tradition of the dance, they take a bold step forward, closing the distance between them. Steve's hands, steady yet tinged with anticipation, find their place upon the small of Sharon’s back, guiding her with gentle precision.

He sweeps across the dance floor, leading Sharon in elaborate and pristine circles. Her gaze on him is imperturbable, features soft under the lights of the chandelier. Steve cannot understand how her eyes can be so alight—they’re looking at him as if he was the present and the future when he is, in fact, counting the musical notes, anticipating the next switch in partners.

The dance is Steve’s “seven minutes in heaven,” as Sam so eloquently worded it. Though, in reality, it’s a vicious torment. This dance offers Steve the chance to dance with four women—three for two minutes and one for no more than a fleeting sixty seconds. And luckily for him, Sharon’s two minutes are now up.

He spins her to the right, fueled by a sense of anticipation at the thought of stealing a precious moment of respite. She leaves his arms, and he breathes deeply for a moment before Princess Shuri joins him.

"Your Majesty, do me a favor and grace us with a smile. I would hate for my brother to be proven right. He is constantly rambling about how my mere presence seems to unsettle everyone around."

Steve offers Shuri beyond what she has asked for. A heartfelt laugh tumbles from his lips, and he’s elated to know that the music is far louder than his unrestrained chortle.

“Your presence is welcome and cherished, Princess Shuri.” Steve dips the princess, ensuring she doesn’t fall. He brings her back on her feet and continues with the rest of the choreography. “Tell T’Challa you are the single spark of joy and delight this evening has brought.”

“Oh, I will most certainly tell him that.”

With a final smile, Steve releases his grip on Shuri, allowing her to navigate her way toward Loki's outstretched arms. Though her departure may lack grace, it’s far more captivating to watch than the arrival of yet another noble lady, who is now nestled in his arms.

Princess Carol’s face is stoic, and her movements feel robotic, pre-programmed. The silence between her and Steve is tumultuous as the prince leads her through the dance. He’s grateful for her aloofness, granting him the chance to focus on something else other than an unnecessary conversation, or worse yet, a proposal.

His blue eyes meander, traversing the room with a wandering gaze. In the midst of his observation, he catches sight of Princess Natasha and Marquess Barton engaged in a dance. Their movements may lack the refinement of the other nobles, but they appear unperturbed, swaying to a rhythm that is uniquely theirs. Steve notices Natasha intermittently locking eyes with Bucky, exchanging playful winks and smirks that stir a bitter sensation within him.

He thinks he will never experience this. Never be given the chance to love with all his heart and not his mind. To love for love and not the kingdom. To live for his love to rule and not to rule for his love to die.

Princess Carol slips from his grasp with unexpected swiftness, leaving Steve momentarily stunned. His attention lingers on her abrupt departure, forgetting the need to steady himself.

As Steve's palm rests open, a hand slips into his, catching him off guard. His arm instinctively reaches out, hastening to steady the woman who has joined him. The sudden touch electrifies his senses, igniting a rush of anticipation within him.

Blue orbs lock onto a wistful masterpiece, refusing to blink and allowing the moisture to gather, lending a subtle glassy sheen. Steve's steps falter, his footing shaken. Only now does he realize that he has been granted six minutes to breathe and a single dance partner that has stolen his every breath.

At this moment, Steve grasps the true might of the human mind as the dance fades into the background though his feet glide effortlessly across the floor. His heart races with joyous abandon, his thoughts sprint in a frenzy, and his eyes struggle to keep pace, captivated by the dazzling radiance emanating from the figure in front of him.

Steve's eyes fixate on the familiar turquoise dress adorning the woman’s figure, a sight he has imagined countless times in his most indulgent thoughts. Yet, reality surpasses any fantasy he could conjure. With fervent intensity, he absorbs every detail of the woman before him, noting the familiarities that stir his heart and the subtle differences that ignite a sense of curiosity.

He towers over her now, his height surpassing hers by more than an inch. His presence is imposing, a protective and ardent force. They stand close, near enough for her to catch glimpses of green in his eyes and for him to feel the softness of her bodice against his chest.

Time passes, maybe a minute, or perhaps more. He doesn’t know. Because with her, time is a paradox, too complex to comprehend. Or perhaps, plain unnecessary.

He notes that no one is dancing, noble men and women retreating to the ballroom's margins. They're entranced by Steve and his partner. Their glances multifaceted, both welcoming and unnerving. But he doesn't pay attention to them. Not when the musicians are still playing, granting him an infinity of respite.

He clutches the woman tighter, lifting her up in the air. The light catches the tiara on her head, the one he had specifically requested for her as a gift on her sixteenth birthday. She had once refused to wear it, claiming she wasn't a princess. And she was right. She's not just a princess; she's a queen.

There is so much to say. Too many questions to ask. And yet, Steve can only whisper one thing as he sets her down on her feet, his lips lingering close to her ear.

“You are divinity in human nature, and I have evermore longed to confess to you this.”

Y/N says nothing, but the gasp that tumbles out and the fingers that trace Steve’s elbow speak of it all. “You haven’t changed,” she notes. He shakes his head and gives her a disbelieving look as if to urge her to look at him again. “You are just as warm and just as kind. Just as beautiful,” she enunciates, whispering the last part.

The words reach his ears, carrying with them a genuine sincerity that resonates deep within him. He releases a soft exhale, a breath that caresses her face. Her delicate lashes gracefully meet, pulling his attention away from her magnetic eyes to her angelic smile.

Steve is captivated by every aspect of her presence, his senses entranced by the enchantment that surrounds them both. “I have longed for you,” he admits. Immediately, Y/N's eyes burst open, revealing a clash of waves within her irises—a turbulent ocean of swirling emotions.

“I’ve heard, and I’m here to satiate your longing, My King.”

"Prince," Steve corrects briskly. As he holds her waist, Y/N places both hands on his chest. He tenderly caresses her bottom lip. "Don't cease to see me in a different light now, princess."

“I am not a princess,” Y/N refutes. “As for the last half of your sentence, no matter who you become to the world, you will always be my prince, Stevie.”

In that brief moment, her eyes reveal a vulnerability that tugs at Steve's heartstrings. “Y/N, tell me you are truly here. Tell me this is not yet another deceiving portrait my mind has conjured.”

“I am real.”

“How?”

“Queen Mother Sarah,” she admits. Her voice carries a tinge of sadness at the memory of the late queen. “Before her demise, she called for me. You were away at the time, fighting the war against Hydra’s army. She made me swear to attend your coronation ball. To be by your side once more.”

Oh, mother. Steve stands in disbelief. Though his mother passed seven years ago, her presence lingers within him. A constant source of comfort and guidance. He can't help but compare the stark contrast between his mother's love and his father's hostility, fueling a mix of emotions within him. The dominance and aggression of his father's actions only serve to heighten his appreciation for his mother's enduring tenderness and thoughtfulness, even in the realm of the afterlife.

“I needed to be by your side, even though I know I will be in trouble.” Y/N’s voice shakes him out of his stupor. She’s biting on her lower lip, her long hair hiding half her face. “Your father will surely order me farther away.”

“Let him try,” Steve challenges with determination, causing Y/N to wear a wearied expression of disbelief. With tenderness, he adds, "I'd like to witness anyone daring to separate the future Queen of Brooklyn from my embrace."

King Joseph seethes with a fiery intensity, teetering on the edge of explosion. Anger courses through his veins, overwhelming his senses in the wake of what he has just witnessed. With resolute determination, he guides his son towards the Council chamber, his mind already brimming with scathing words, poised to unleash his fury upon him.

“Of all of the women in this court and beyond, you have decided to entertain a chambermaid for the better half of the evening!”

“She is not a mere chambermaid, father. You know well who Y/N is!”

"A mere distraction," the King counters vehemently, his fist slamming down on the dark oak table with a resounding thud. "A disgrace," he continues, his voice filled with simmering indignation.

“A queen.”

"Never! Over my dead body, you imbecile!" King Joseph retorts, his voice laced with venomous defiance, unwilling to yield to his son's audacious declaration.

"So be it then, father!" Steve roars with fiery determination. "All you have ever cared for is for Brooklyn to be the nexus of the Grand American Dynasty, no matter the cost, no matter the price! Your vision is so narrow that you fail to see the alternative paths, the possibilities beyond the ones you have carved for yourself."

“The avenues you traverse in your thoughts are nothing but insignificant alleyways leading to nowhere, boy!”

"They are mine. All of them belong to me alone," Steve asserts with unwavering conviction. "They are the boulevards of my childhood and the thoroughfares of my future. They are paths carved by a woman who has treated me far better than my own father ever has!"

“She is insignificant!”

"How dare you! You have waged wars and battles, leaving me to mend the relationships you have severed. You have sowed fear and wielded despair in your son and your kingdom, and I will not allow you to condemn me or my future any longer."

“Steven!”

“No! You will listen, and I will lend my ears no longer. I am the only heir to the throne. You and the Council be damned if you do not willingly allow me to marry the woman who will rule Brooklyn with far more grace and vigor than you ever had. Mark my words, I will take matters into my own hands and fight for love and justice, even if it means defying the entire kingdom.”

“You would never," King Joseph says, his voice seething with anger and contempt, his eyes blazing with fiery defiance.

Steve smirk. It’s dark and vindictive, sending shivers down the spine of his father. “Watch me,” he whispers, his voice laced with a chilling determination.

He marches out of the chamber and onto the grand ballroom. His heart thumps in his chest, louder than the mellifluous sounds of the musician's instruments.

He moves through the crowd like a lion king walking through his kingdom. His gaze locks on Y/N, standing beside Bucky and Sam. As their eyes meet, a mixture of surprise and anticipation reflects in the depths of her gaze, mirroring the emotions pulsating within him.

As the world around them fades into a blur, leaving only the two of them standing in the spotlight, Steve's years of etiquette training and courtship knowledge seem insignificant. Despite his mastery of courting rituals and the art of conversation, Y/N possesses the uncanny ability to shatter his carefully crafted facade. With a mere glance, she erases the learned scripts from his mind, leaving it a blank canvas, ready to be painted by her presence alone.

He doesn’t count his steps though he suspects they’re brisk. He reaches out and tugs at her hand, drawing her closer. Steve lets go of his thoughts and his constraints, deciding to focus on her. His lips are fierce as they suddenly clash with hers, and the sound of their lips moving together seems to echo louder than the

The kiss becomes a clarion call, a declaration of war and surrender in a single act. It symbolizes the culmination of suppressed emotions and unspoken promises, a deluge of feelings too long restrained. It ignites a storm of passionate responses, an uproar of joy and relief that reverberates through the room.

In that fleeting moment, it embodies Y/N's tenderness and longing, intertwining with Steve's defiance and resolve. The kiss bridges the fractures of their past and ushers in the promise of a shared future.

Like an art piece, it's crafted with meticulous detail and profound meaning. Its evocative power lingers in the air, leaving a trace of its essence. The kiss is not just a mere gesture. It's an effervescent expression of their love, unique and incomparable.

At this moment, Steve and Y/N claim their own narrative, painting their own masterpiece of connection and desire. It's an art piece that captivates all who witness it, leaving an indelible mark on their hearts and memories.

“I need a queen,” Steve breathes in haste. I need you, he’s trying to say. I breathe you.

And Y/N laughs, delicately and boldly. She presses her palms against his cheeks, the warmth of her touch fanning the flames of Steve’s love.

“Let me be everything you need and more.”

Steve Rogers has my whole heart, and I was unbelievably happy when Val overflooded my inbox with requests!! Still got one Mob!Steve and Professor!Steve one shots to write, which I'm super excited to start with. Btw, how the hell does Val know all my favorite tropes?

Anyhow, I was so excited, so I powered through this one. The others? Might take anywhere between 3 to 5 business months to release them. But Sab will try her best to release them sooner.

Don’t forget to send in your Marvel/Harry Potter requests!

Can’t wait to share more!!

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america x female reader #marvel fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #marvel mcu #avengers #the avengers #king!steve rogers x reader #steve rogers royal au #king!steve rogers

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justalonelyslytherin · 1 year

Text

My Kingdom, Your Kingdom | Masterlist

There once were two Kingdoms, Brooklyn and Widovia. Two of the largest in the realm. Lying side by side, they shared one long border full of mountains and a great lake.

In the past, these kingdoms were allies and great friends. Their combined strength was said to have brought peace, safety, and prosperity to the entire realm. Until their strong bond - said to be made for eternity - was broken.

The kingdom to the North, Widovia, lost their beloved rulers to a gruesome accident, many whispered to have been staged by their neighboring ally. With this accusation, the friend- and allyship between these two great nations broke. Friends quickly turned to foes.

Tensions rose high until both kingdoms turned their back on each other. The Kingdom up North even went so far as to close itself off from everyone around them. Soon the kingdom was forgotten by most, but not by its former ally.

Left behind after the tragic loss of their rulers were three little girls. The King and Queen's dearly beloved daughters. The oldest still too young to rule, the late king's second advisor (for the first one had died with the King and Queen) stepped up. He became the Regent to rule until the princess and heir apparent was ready for it.

Over the years, the world had everted its eyes from Widovia the princesses grew from children into young and beautiful women. At 21 years of age, it was time for her to take her rightful place on the throne. But before that, she needed to find herself a suitable husband.

For the first time in nearly two centuries, Widovia opened its doors and sent out invitations to all the other kingdoms and lordships, inviting their young and unwed sons to vie for the soon-to-be queen's hand at the Christmas ball.

Before she can find herself a suitable husband however there is one more adventure to go on. The three young and sheltered girls craved to venture into the world and explore what lay behind their countries borders.

secret king!Steve Rogers x heir apparent!Reader (female)

taglist: open, let me know if you want to be added

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Under the Mistletoe - a short bonus in between ch7 | non-canon to the story

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

...

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x you #royalty au #christmas story #christmas au

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i-have-a-wonky-eye-too · 7 months

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A Princess. A Queen. A Wife. A Mother.

Part 27

<Part 26<

The Royal carriage of York New...

You ran your thumb over your pendant nervously as you stared out of the carriage window, an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. You wanted nothing more than to jump on the back of Storm and charge to the Abbey so you could be in Steve's arms.

You let out a startled gasp as the carriage came to a sudden stop. You lurched forwards along with Morgana, holding onto her as Tony caught the two of you.

You looked at him with a panicked look. "Tony?"

He held his hands up in front of you as he peered out of the window to see what was going on. His brow furrowed with a huff. "Wait here." He ordered as he opened the door and got out of the carriage.

Morgana cuddled closer to you and looked up at you. "I'm scared." She whispered.

"I'm not." You offered her a smile to cover your lie and moved to look out of the window, frowning as Pietro charged past on his horse.

"Princess," Bucky jogged up to you. "Please, stay inside." He stood before you, blocking the door and your view out of the carriage.

"What's going on, Bucky?" You asked. "Is something wrong?"

Bucky looked back at where Tony stood and nodded with a soft sigh. He looked back to you and then to Morgana. "Just some interesting news from the castle..." He smiled at Morgana, although you could tell from how his brow furrowed he was lying. "Nothing to worry about. Sir Pietro, is on his way to share the news with, King Steven. I'm sure he'll tell you all about it once he sees you." He winked at Morgana making her giggle and hide her face in her hands. He looked back at you and nodded. "It's fine."

You nodded and drew in a deep breath, "If you say so..."

Bucky nodded before he stood to the side, opening the door for Tony as he approached the carriage once more.

Your brother gave you a concerned look before he smiled at Morgana. "I need to practice my speech." He declared as he climb back inside the carriage.

Morgana rolled her eyes with a groan and fell back into the seat making you giggle. "Not again, daddy."

------------------------------------------------------------

The Abbey of York New where King Steven waits...

Steve's hands were clasped behind his back as he marched back and forth across the stone floor. Dread and fear eating away at his insides. He needed you by his side where he knew you were safe.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Steven, do stop pacing back and forth. You're going to wear a hole in the floor." Sarah scolded her son with a roll of her eyes.

Steve barely stopped as he looked back at his mother. "My apologies, mother."

Sarah furrowed her brow as she watched him continue. "You're nervous." She stated. Steve nodded as he continued to walk back and forth. "The only other time I've seen you this nervous was your Coronation," Sarah stated. "What troubles you, son?"

Steve drew in a deep breath as he turned to face his mother and dropped himself into the armchair opposite her. "I'm scared, mother. There's so much that threatens our happiness... Y/n's, happiness. And all I want to do is protect her, and my brain is telling me the only way to do that is to lock her up in a tower away from danger..." He shook his head with a chuckle. "But that's ridiculous... Because I know she's far braver and stronger than anyone believes... Plus, she'd just scale the side of the tower to yell at me." He smiled thinking about you.

Sarah smiled as she reached over and took his hand. "You believe." She said. "You've always believed in her. And you've always been there to protect her and fight for her. And you will do so until the day you die." Sarah smiled at her son. "Now, stop worrying. My beautiful daughter-in-law will be here shortly... She can read you like a book and I don't want her-"

"Your Majesty!" Sam burst into the room with Pietro closely behind him startling Steve and his mother.

Steve shot up out of his chair, "What's wrong?"

"A young boy... He came to the castle, Your Majesty," Pietro began as he tried to catch his breath. "... He witnessed... Hydra bandits murder his father in the village... Not long ago."

Sarah gasped and covered her mouth. "Oh, that poor boy."

Steve turned to his mouth. "Mother, please," He took her hand in his. "I assume, Sir Rhodey, has already checked the castle and grounds?"

Pietro nodded. "Everywhere possible after last time."

Steve nodded and looked at Sam. "It has to be a tactic." Steve sighed as he sat down in the armchair.

Sam nodded. "They're trying to scare us."

"How can you be so sure?" Sarah looked between the two.

"Because they'd be stupid to attack today of all days, mother." Steve said as he pulled his pocket watch out and looked at the inscription.

"His Majesty is right," Sam said. "Every Kingdom that Brook and York New allies with, are invited to the King and Princess' wedding. It would be a guaranteed blood bath for Lower East."

Steve nodded and looked at Pietro. "You passed them on your way?"

Pietro nodded with a reassuring grin. "She looks beautiful, Your Majesty."

Steve nodded, a smile filling his face as he looked down at his pocket watch. "Does she know?"

Pietro shook his head. "King Anthony didn't want to worry her before she arrived, nor did he want to scare, Princess Morgana. When I was leaving, Bucky was going to talk to her."

"Bucky will have made sure she wasn't worrying." Sam gave him a reassuring smile.

Steve nodded. "I want to be the one to tell her." He stood up and put his pocket watch away. "Now, no more talk of this, not until we're back at the castle. My beautiful bride is almost here." Steve smiled and held his arm out to his mother. "Shall we?"

Sarah got up and took Steve's arm. "Come along then." She smiled proudly at him.

------------------------------------------------------------

The abbey doors were closed behind you, muffling the sounds of the cheering crowds and making your nerves shoot through the roof. After your brief stop on your way to the abbey, dread and fear settled in the pit of your stomach. You were sure something bad was going to happen and stop you from marrying Steve.

"Morgana." Tony huffed as he quickly wandered off after the young girl down a corridor making you giggle.

You turned to Natasha and Wanda, "Could you give me a minute, please? I just need some space to breathe." You asked.

"Of course, Your Highness." They both bowed to you before following Tony to help.

You closed your eyes taking a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves as you ran a hand over the bodice of your wedding dress.

"Your Highness," Bucky whispered as he placed his hand on yours to stop them from shaking. You opened your eyes and looked up at him. "King Steven, asked me to give you this before you walked down the aisle." He smiled at you as he handed you an envelope.

You thanked him as you took it, handing your flowers to him with a giggle. The sight of a feared knight holding a bouquet of delicate flowers was amusing. You opened the envelope and began smiling as you read it.

My love,

I write this in hopes of calming your nerves as you stand on the other side of the chapel doors, minutes away from becoming my darling wife. I promise to love and protect you with my whole heart, body and soul. There's no reason to be nervous, my love.

We will face the enemies together as one. You have my word and love.

I'm just on the other side of those doors and soon you'll be in my arms as my wife and I, your husband.

So hurry along. I miss you.

Your King and soon-to-be darling husband.

P.S. The answer to your riddle is a needle.

You began smiling to yourself, quickly brushing your happy tears away and looked up at Bucky. "Thank you, Bucky, for giving me this."

He shook his head, "It's nothing to do with me, Your Highness..." He smiled. "I also wanted to give you this?" He handed you a red velvet pouch. "Natasha mentioned you still didn't have your something borrowed." He nodded to the pouch. "I wanted you to use this."

You smiled up at him as you emptied the contents into the palm of your hand. Your eyes widened at the beautiful ring that sat there. "Oh, James,"

He chuckled, "I was hoping to get your blessing, Your Highness. You're Natasha's, closest friend... Almost like a sister, even..."

You once again wiped away your happy tears as you nodded. "Of course, you have my blessing, Bucky." You smiled up at him as you safely tucked the velvet pouch away.

Bucky gave you a shy smile as he looked down. "Thank you, Your Highness." He handed you your flowers back.

"Sorry to interrupt." Tony smiled at you. "It's time... Ready?" He asked as he held his arm out to you.

You drew in a deep breath as you nodded. "More than anything." You grinned up at him.

The moment the chapel doors were opened and your eyes met Steve's, your nerves and dread disappeared. You couldn't hear the choir as they sang or the organist play. You couldn't see the hundreds of guests that watched you walk down the aisle. The only thing that you could see before you, the only thing that mattered to you, was Steve.

Steve winked at you, his smile widening as yours did. You were thankful for the veil covering your face, it hid the blush you were sure covering your face. You turned to Tony and gave him a kiss on the cheek making him smile.

He took Steve's hand and put yours in it, "You best take care of her, Rogers, or I'll be coming for you." He warned the younger man as he gave him a stern look, trying to intimidate him before the pair began laughing at each other and shook hands. Tony looked back at you and gave you a kiss on the temple before whispering. "Mother would be proud of you, little princess."

You smiled up at him, trying not to cry at his sweet words.

As Tony sat down, you handed your flowers to Natasha before facing Steve. He raised your veil over your head. "You look beautiful, My love," Steve whispered making you blush even more.

"The same can be said for you, Your Majesty." You whispered back.

It seemed you and Steve were lost in your own world, looking at each other with so much love as he held your hands firmly in his, softly caressing the backs of your knuckles. The storm of negative emotions you'd been harbouring inside had calmed and all it took was Steve's touch.

The Bishop cleared his throat before he began the ceremony, "Blessings and merry meet. Your Majesties, Lords and Ladies, we are gathered here today to join, King Steve of Brook and Princess Y/n of York New, together in holy matrimony. They have asked you here to share in their joy, and to declare their love for one another before you as a community." The Bishop smiled and looked between you and Steve. "Your Majesty, art thou here this day in pledged truth of thy own free will and choice?"

Steve looked at you as he nodded with a grin. "Yes, Father."

The Bishop nodded and looked at you. "Princess, art thou here this day in pledged truth of thy own free will and choice?"

"Yes, Father." You nodded with your own grin. Steve gave your hands a reassuring squeeze as he winked at you making you giggle.

The Bishop smiled, "In as much as, King Steven and Princess Y/n, have pledged their troth to be married this day, we call upon Heaven to bless this union."

You held your breath and your body tensed as you waited for the part you feared most, dread once more filling the pit of your stomach.

"Therefore if anyone can show just cause, why they may not be joined together, by God's Law, or the Laws of the Realm; let them now speak, or else hereafter keep silent for all time.

"Lest it not be overlooked, however, there is rumour amongst the fair princess' people that any such scurrilous objector shall be later beheaded today at the feast for the entertainment and amusement of the Lords and Ladies in attendance." The Bishop chuckled.

Your eyes widened as laughter eruptted throughout the room. Steve shook his head with a chuckle and looked over at where Tony sat. You looked over at your brother with a frown and shook your head as he sat there with a smug grin on his face.

The Bishop looked out to your guests as he waited and once satisfied he nodded before continuing. "There being no objection to this marriage, let us continue."

The Bishop turned to the stand beside him where a sacred blade sat upon a red and gold velvet pillow. The same blade that your brother used during his wedding and the same one your parents used in there's. And it will be the same blade Morgana uses during her wedding when that day comes.

The Bishop holds the sacred blade in his hands and holds it between you and Steve. "Your Majesty, swear on this sacred blade, that there is no reason known to you that this union should not proceed."

Steve placed his right hand over the blade as he bobbed his head. "I do so swear."

The Bishop turned to you, "Princess, is there any reason known to you why this partnership should not be made?"

You placed your hand over Steve's and shook your head before answering, "There is none."

"Heavenly Father, creator of all things both in heaven and Earth, we humbly ask thee to bless this union, may these thy servants seek goodness all the days of their lives, may they be strong in defence of what is right, may they be united as one even as thou art with God. May they be numbered amongst thy sheep. We humbly pray in the name of the Father, and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen."

"I forgot how much these things drag on," Tony muttered under his breath with a heavy sigh. Morgana gave her father an elbow in his side as she scolded him, making Rhodey and others around them chuckle.

You lowered your head to hide your amusement at the pair, quickly straightening yourself as the Bishop cleared his throat and drew everyone's attention back to him.

"Do you King Steven, take unto thyself as husband to Princess Y/n and pledge unto her before God and these witnesses to be her protector, defender and sure resort, to honour and sustain her, in sickness and in health, in fair and in foul, with all thy worldly powers, to cherish and forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as you both shall live?"

Steve smiled at you. "I will, with all my heart." He said as he raised your left hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to where your engagement ring sat. You felt your cheeks blush as you heard the ladies of the court in awe.

"Do you Princess Y/n, take unto thyself the Noble King Steven to be thy rightful wife and pledge unto him before God and these witnesses to honour and cherish him, to cleave unto him, in sickness and in health, in fair and in foul, be his one true and lasting counsellor and solace, and forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as you both shall live?" The Bishop asked as he looked at you.

You nodded as you smiled at Steve. "I will."

"The rings," The Bishop looked to Sir Samuel with his hand out.

Sam nodded as he patted himself down as searched for the rings, his eyes widening in panic. "Hmm, what would you say if I said, I forgot them?" He asked Steve.

Steve stared at him unamused, "For your sake, you better be fooling around."

Sam began grinning as he pulled the rings out of his pocket and handed them to the Bishop.

You held in your amusement as the Bishop shook his head with a small huff as he snatched the rings from Sam, equally unimpressed by Sam's foolery.

"Heavenly Father, bless these rings which King Steven and Princess Y/n have set apart to be visible signs of the inward and spiritual bond which unites their hearts. As they give and receive these rings, may they testify to the world of the covenant made between them.

Steve took the respected ring for you and gently slipped it onto your finger as he said, "Receive and wear this ring as a symbol of my trust, my respect and my love for you."

You took his ring and repeated the same words as you slipped the ring onto his finger.

"This circle will now seal the vows of this marriage and will symbolize the purity and endlessness of their love." The Bishop declared to the chapel. "We will now do the ancient hand fastening ritual where three cords will be placed over their joined hands."

Steve's mother made her way up to the pair of you holding a burgundy cord that symbolized romance, partnership and happiness and placed it over yours and Steve's joined hands.

Peter walked up to the two of you next with an ivory cord which stands for peace, sincerity and devotion, and placed that over your hands.

Then Morgana and Tony walked up to the two of you, Morgana holding a gold cord which represents unity, prosperity and longevity, and with the help of her father placed it over your hands. She let out a giggle as Steve winked at her and thanked her.

Tony rolled his eyes and sent Morgana back to her seat where Nanny Friday was waiting for her. He then turned back to you with a smile before he tied the cords together to signify the tying of the knot.

"As this knot is tied, so are your lives now bound. Woven into this cord, imbued into its very fibres, are all the hopes of thy friends and family, and of themselves, for a new life together. With the fashioning of this knot you tie all the desires, dreams, love, and happiness wished here in this place to your lives for as long as love shall last, your lives now bound, one to another. By this cord you are thus now and forevermore bound to your vow. May this knot remain tied for as long as love shall last. May this cord draw your hands together in love, never to be used in anger. May the vows you have spoken never grow bitter in your mouths.

"As your hands are bound by this cord, so is your partnership held by the symbol of this knot. Two entwined in love, bound by commitment and fear, sadness and joy, hardship and victory, anger and reconciliation, all of which bring strength to this union. Hold tight to one another through both good times and bad, and watch as your strength grows. I shall now remove the cords."

The Bishop removed the cords from your hands before continuing to talk, "Thou has pledged truth of thy own free will and sworn upon the sacred blade. Thou hast exchanged rings and been bound together by the ritual of the cords. May it be granted that what is done before the gods be not undone by man." The Bishop smiled, "By the power vested in me by the Realm, I now pronounce you King Steven and Princess Y/n of Brook. Husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride."

Steve gently cupped your face in his left hand, as the chapel filled with cheers and applause. Your eyes closed as you slipped your hand that Steve held up his arm until it rested on his shoulder, letting yourself melt against him as he pressed his lips against yours in a loving kiss.

You pulled back from Steve beaming up at him, "We're married." You giggled.

"We are indeed wife." He grinned at you. He went to give you another kiss but the Bishop cleared his throat.

"Join me in cheer as the newly wedded couple make their way up the aisle on the first of their many journeys together."

The room erupted into cheers once more as Steve offered his arm to you, and the two of you began to make your way up the aisle.

------------------------------------------------------------

With the help of your darling husband, the two of you climbed into the royal carriage of Brook and began to make your journey back to the castle.

You looked at Steve and began to blush when you realised he was already looking at you. "What is it?" You asked.

He shook his head and grinned at you. "... I'm just," He let out a soft sigh as he sat forwards and took your left hand in his. "I'm so very happy, my love."

You smiled back at him as you held his hand. "As am I." Then you remember everything that happened before you arrived at the abbey. Your brow creased as you looked at him. "What happened?" You asked making Steve's brow furrow.

"With what, my love?"

"Why did, Pietro, come? Bucky said there was some interesting news from the castle. So what was it?" You asked him.

"Ah, that," Steve nodded, "Well, according to, Pietro, a young boy arrived at the castle in distress. He witnessed his father's murder..."

You gasped, covering your mouth with your hand as you felt tears form. "It was Hydra, wasn't it?" You asked already knowing the answer.

Steve nodded, "Apparently so."

You felt a lump in your throat as you glanced out of the window and saw the crowds of happy villagers cheering and celebrating your and Steve's marriage.

Steve moved closer to you and cupped your cheek with his hand, smiling as you nuzzled into his palm. "I promise you, my love, you're safe. They're not going to try anything, especially today."

You nodded, "I know... But, that poor boy... And his father... What about his mother? Oh, Steve, I feel awful that these poor people have gotten dragged into all this because of some... Bastards!" You huffed. Steve's eyebrows raised in surprise at your outburst. You looked up at Steve with puppy-like eyes as you held his hands in yours. "I want to make sure the young boy and his family are looked after, Steven. Please."

Steve began smiling at you. "I knew you would. I asked Sam to arrange a meeting with the boy as soon as we returned to the castle. Things will be sorted, my love. I promise." He smiled.

You smiled back, "Oh, thank you... Darling Husband." You grinned before leaning forwards and kissing him. "I can't believe we're really married."

Steve chuckled as he sat back in his seat with your hand in his lap. "I know. It feels almost like a dream." He kissed your knuckles and smiled at you. "You've made me the happiest man alive, Y/n. I hope you understand how much I love you. And my vows to you are my law. I will do everything in my power to-" You cut Steve off by crashing your lips against his, your arms around his neck as he let your tongue into his mouth.

After a few seconds you pulled back from him, your face even redder than before as you cleared your throat. "My apologies... But you talk too much," You laughed softly at him.

Steve shook his head with a chuckle, "I was trying to be romantic and woo you with my words, wife."

You rolled your eyes playfully at him. "Haven't you learnt by now, husband, that I already trust everything you say to me?"

"As I, you." Steve hummed as he slipped his arm around your waist and pulled you into his side, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. "I love you, Y/n." He whispered.

"I love you too, Steve."

------------------------------------------------------------

"Where is he, Sam?" Steve asked, as the pair of you walked down the hallway of the castle, your hands intertwined.

"Library, Your Majesty," Sam said. "However, he's not alone."

"Meaning?" Steve raised his eyebrow.

Sam let out a heavy sigh, "King Anthony and his council are... Questioning, the young boy." Sam grimaced as he said the words.

You huffed and pulled your hand out of Steve's as you quickly marched ahead of Steve and Sam, Bucky hot on your trail being careful not to trip on the skirts of your wedding gown.

Steve grinned to himself as he watched you, "That's my wife, Sam."

Sam rolled his eyes playfully, "Yes... That poor girl." He joked receiving a slap on the back of the head from Steve. "Ow."

"Whimp." Steve chuckled and hurried after you.

Tony was slouched in a chair with his hand covering his face as he listened to his council huff and puff at the young boy. He didn't need this, not today.

"Gentlemen," He groaned. "Could this not wait?"

"We need to ask these questions, Your Majesty. Now."

"What if he's a rat, Sire?"

"It could all be a trick."

"We don't even know who he is."

"Perhaps the man that was killed, wasn't even his father."

"Yes! He could be working for Hydra. I bet he is. What better way to get into the castle than to pretend-"

The library doors were suddenly pushed open with force, startling everyone inside the room. Bucky stood on the other side before stepping to the side and allowing you entry.

"That's enough!" You shouted as you stormed into the room.

"This doesn't concern you, Your-"

"ENOUGH!" You snarled. "This is my wedding day! Not a time for you to be interrogating a poor young boy that-"

"Oh, please!" One of the older council members scoffed. "Of course, you would see him as a poor young boy. You're a woman! You don't know anything about this-"

"Watch how you speak to my wife, Sir." Steve stepped into the room and stood by your side as he glared at the older man. He looked over at Tony and raised his eyebrow, "Mind telling me why you're here?"

Tony shrugged and nodded to his council, "Ask them. They seem to think the boy is working for King Brock or-"

"I bloody well am not." The young boy cut Tony off as he scowled up at the old men that stood in front of him making you laugh.

"I believe you," Tony chuckled as he stood behind the young boy. "Gentlemen, perhaps it's time you left. After all, it was King Steven that asked for this meeting."

"Yes... So, bugger off." The young boy stuck his tongue out at them making you laugh even more and the council mad.

"I like him." You looked up at Steve as he nodded.

"He's certainly got some bite, hasn't he?" Steve smiled.

"Gentlemen, King Anthony has asked you to leave." Bucky and Rhodey held the doors open as Peter guided the council members out of them. Once the doors were shut Peter huffed, "That was like herding sheep... Only sheep listen to you."

Steve chuckled and looked at you. "Go ahead, my love." He nodded to the boy.

You smiled lovingly at him before kissing his cheek. You then turned to the boy with a sorrowful look and walked over to him. "Hello, young man."

The boy bowed to you, "Hello, Your Highness."

You crouched down before him with a heavy sigh. "I apologise for those... Old farts."

The young boy smiled at you. "It's alright, Your Highness."

You shook your head. "No, it isn't..." You let out a heavy sigh. "I'd like to talk to you, about what happened?" You asked him with a soft smile. "May I?"

He nodded. "I don't know anything. I swear." He gave you a pleading look.

You nodded, "I believe you, but we need to know everything that you can remember to work out what those men are after." You stood up with Steve's help and held your hand out for the young boy to take. "Trust me?"

He nodded and took your hand. You smiled down at him and lead him over to the bottom of the stairs where you sat down. The young boy sat down beside you.

"Now, first things first... My name is Y/n." You smiled at him.

He laughed, "I know who you are, Princess."

You chuckled, "Yes, well, it's always polite to give your name. And besides, you don't have to be formal when it's just us."

The young boy looked up at the others as they all took a seat nearby.

"Will you tell me your name?" You asked.

He nodded, "Harry." He whispered.

"Pleasure to meet you, Harry..." You shook his hand. "I'm sorry for what happened to your father."

He shook his head as he looked down. "It's not your fault." He sighed. "So... What do you want to know? I've already told, Sir James, everything I saw."

"We know you have, but the Princess and I would like to hear it for ourselves," Steve said.

"And me. It is my Kingdom after all." Tony added under his breath making you roll your eyes.

"Well, why were you in the alley? Let's start there." You smiled warmly at him.

"We were on our way to watch you pass in the royal carriage."

You felt a lump in your throat as you looked over to Steve. It was your fault. "I see... And, hm, then what happened, Harry?"

"Father noticed the men at the end of the alley. Said he didn't like the look of them, so he told me to hide."

"How many men were there?" Steve asked as he walked up the steps and sat down behind you.

"Two..." Harry answered. He closed his eyes with a sniffle.

"What happened after you hid, Harry?" Steve asked.

"Father approached them, making polite conversation, talking about the wedding-" He sniffled.

"Then what, Harry?" You asked him.

Harry shrugged, "It was like... They spooked him..." He looked up at you. "He started moving back but they-" He shook his head as he began crying. "I ran to him when they left, and that's when he told me who they were."

"How did he know they were Hydra bandits, Harry?" Tony asked.

Harry looked over to the King. "Hydra bandits killed my mother when I was two. My father always said he'd never forget any of the monsters that took her from us."

Your heart broke for him. Hydra bandits had been terrorising even the poorest of souls for as long as you could remember. They took pleasure in other people's misery and pain.

Steve placed his hand on your shoulder and gave it a squeeze as he kissed the top of your head, trying to comfort you.

"We're sorry to hear that, Harry." You said to the young boy and wrapped your arms around him and consoled him as he cried. "It's okay, Harry." You whispered.

"What, happens now?..." Harry looked up at you with tears rolling down his face. "I have no one to look after me."

You gulped and looked over to your brother with a pleading look.

He cleared his throat and stood up from where he sat. "Sister, didn't you mention something about the blacksmith, wanting an apprentice?"

You began smiling at him. "I did..." You smiled down at the boy. "Do you like horses, Harry?"

He nodded. "Very much so." He sniffled and wiped his tears away.

"Then, how does working in the castle stables sound?" You asked him.

"You wouldn't have to worry about anywhere to sleep, there's plenty of rooms here. Nor worry about food or clothes." Tony stood in front of him.

"Or education." You added.

Tony's brows furrowed, "Since when?"

"Since Princess Morgana, started refusing to attend her lessons." You said to him. "She's more likely to attend them if she thinks she's going to be smarter than a boy." You smiled.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Girls smell." He huffed making you all chuckle.

"Is that a yes, young man? You'll earn yourself a decent wage if you work hard enough." Tony asked him as he knelt down before him.

Harry nodded. "Yes, Sir. Thank you."

Tony held his hand out for him and smiled as the young boy took it. "You're very welcome, young man."

#King Steve Rogers #King!Steve Rogers x reader #King!Steve Rogers x Princess!reader #King!Steve Rogers x Princess!Stark!reader #Steve Rogers x reader #Steve Rogers #Medieval au #A Princess. A Queen. A Wife. A Mother.

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 22 days

Text

an enlightening soak

fused with the foe, chapter four

a/n: don't mind me, just giggling like the little love gremlin that i am

summary: “No, no, nothing is wrong, it’s just–…” he stressed before a strained exhale flowed out of him and he averted his eye, “…in the library, on the fourth bookcase up top, there are some books that should help clear things up for you.”

warnings: king!steve rogers x reader, smut, fantasy AU (monsters, but not much magic), original fantasy world, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, slow burn, innocent!reader, gore, injury, first kiss, love realization, masturbation

word count: 1282

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“…well, you didn’t say a word to me the whole night, barely even looked at me,” you sat down on the edge of the central fountain in the castle’s topiary garden, “and then at the end you just up and left without–, well, I’m not quite sure what was supposed to have happened, but I know it’s not that, I have brothers, I'm not completely clueless.”

Taking a seat beside you on the edge, Steve urged, “I know you’re not, but–,” his words then fell short as realisation washed over his features, “oh gods…”

“What?” you raised your gaze from the pebbles beneath your shoes, “what’s wrong? Did I say something wrong?”

“No, no, nothing is wrong, it’s just–…” he stressed before a strained exhale flowed out of him and he averted his eye, “…in the library, on the fourth bookcase up top, there are some books that should help clear things up for you.”

“…you want me to read?” you cocked a brow, “I don’t understand.”

“You will, just–…” he nearly looked flustered, “give it a chance.”

“Why can’t you just tell me?”

“Because it is a delicate matter that I’m not sure if I should be the one to teach you about,” he worded carefully.

“Why couldn’t you? Do you not know either?”

“Oh, no,” he refused to meet your eye, “I know. I just don’t think–…” his restless body forced him to rise, “you should really just find those books and read them, then you’ll know.”

“Hmm…” your confusion hadn’t defused one bit, “alright.”

Bending down to pick up a fallen leaf from one of the sculptural topiary bushes, his fingers began to fiddle with it, “so, you haven’t ever had a sweetheart or anything?”

“I spent most of my life in my room, either because the door was locked or because it was just the safest option,” you nearly laughed, “so, no, I haven’t ever had someone like me in that manner.”

“Not even a servant?” he offered you the briefest of glances, “someone you’d call your friend? Maybe just someone daring enough to give a princess a kiss?”

“I’ve–,” you felt your cheeks heat up as you tried to answer, “I’ve never–… no…” lowering your vision to the gentle ripple in the fountain water, you then asked quietly, “…have someone ever been daring enough to kiss you?”

Looking back at you, the faintest of chuckles rumbled within him at the adorable nature of your tone, “yeah.”

Dragging your fingertips gently through the water, you glanced up to meet his gaze, “we’re friends, right? Wouldn’t you say so?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “we’re friends.”

“So, if I asked you to, would you maybe kiss me?”

“What?” his head tilted slightly as if he thought he’d misheard you.

“Would you kiss me?”

“Uh…” he glanced back down at the leaf between his fingers, “you sure you’d want that?”

“Well, I don’t make it a habit of asking for stuff I'm not sure about.”

“Right,” he exhaled, “alright, well, sure, if that’s something you’d want.”

“Great!” you exclaimed as you wiped your damp fingers on the skirt of your dress, “then do it.”

“What, right now?”

“Well, why not?” you shrugged.

“Alright,” he let the crumbled leaf float down to the pebbly ground, “sure.”

As his long stride neared you, a bubble of nerves burst within you, “what should I do?”

Towering above your seated position as he stopped before you, “just,” his careful touch slowly found your arm, “close your eyes…” his gaze searched yours a moment as you felt your pulse begin to pick up, “the rest will come to you naturally.”

Letting your eyes flutter shut, a small gasp slipped out of you as you felt his light touch find your cheek.

It was different than you’d imagined. It wasn’t weird or slimy, it bloody took your breath away as his lips gently brushed against your own.

When he slowly withdrew, you couldn’t help but hypnotically drift after his fading lips before a shutter that ran down your spine caused you to float back.

“You alright?” his warm touch lingered on your cheek a moment longer, caressing the high point as your starry eyes fluttered back open.

“Y-yes,” you breathed raggedly, feeling as if you might tumble back into the fountain, “uh, thank you.”

And in that moment, you knew, you didn’t need any other clue to string all of the pieces inside of you together.

You were in love with the king of Eflorr.

Though you were in a window a few storeys up, you could still nearly hear the laboured grunts as Steve’s sweat-glistening visage sparred with a few wardens down in the wide front courtyard. Your lips couldn’t help but part slightly as you ogled.

But just as you felt drool begin to trickle out of the corner of your mouth, a pair of hasty footsteps rounded the corner.

“There you are, your majesty,” you hoped you weren’t too visibly flustered as you turned to face the servant, “your bath is ready.”

“Thank you, Hilda,” you offered her a polite nod before making your way back towards your private chambers.

Steam invitingly wafted off the copper tub as you stepped inside. Layer by layer, you stripped down and draped your attire over the back of the folding screen that stood in the very corner of the room. Sinking into the bubbles, a soft sigh seeped from your lips as you melted back against the bathtub.

With your thoughts still floating back in the courtyard where Steve was training, your fingertips couldn’t help but ghost over your lips as they tingled at the memory of his.

As your eyes fluttered closed, your touch did as it had formed a tendency of ever since you read those books the monarch had advised you to educate yourself with. Fluttering down your soaked frame, your touch wandered over every spot that caused frail whimpers to flow out of your lungs.

But just as your bubbly fantasies began to drift you away completely, the sudden sound of the door to your chambers being burst open jolted you out of it.

Absentmindedly wandering in, Steve’s gaze was glued to the papers in his grasp, “the town meeting is starting in an hour, would you–,” he finally looked up as you twisted around and the bathwater sloshed at your startled motion, “oh,” he froze, thankfully not seeing much as both the tub’s high walls as well as the lush bubbles obscured your exposed frame, “I am so sorry,” from the looks of it, he’d already freshened up after his recent activities, “I didn’t–, I should have knocked,” he swiftly turned back around to leave, “I’ll just ask you later, I’m sorry.”

“Ask me what?” your voice halted him as his hand clasped the door handle.

With his back firmly turned to you, he said stiffly, “uh, I was just wondering if you’d like to join.”

“Join?”

“The council meeting,” he swiftly squashed the innuendo that your hazy brain had conjured, “if it’s alright with you, I’d love your opinion on some of the things on the agenda today.”

“You would?”

“Dove, your mind is brilliant,” he stated, “of course, I want your input on all the important matters.”

Even though your cheeks were already aflame, that compliment only managed to ignite the fire.

“When does it start?”

“In an hour.”

“Alright,” you bit down on your bottom lip, “I’ll see you in an hour then.”

“Great,” his white-knuckled fist then twisted the door handle, “have a nice bath–, I mean, uh… bye,” he stumbled over his words as he rushed to leave.

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sunshinebuckybarnes · 1 year

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It's gonna be May 🩷 we made it through April babies! Here's every glorious thing I read in April. Please make sure you give these gorgeous stories and writers the love they deserve. As always, you are responsible for your own media consumption. This blog along with the majority tagged are 18+ only and contain adult themes.

Happy reading 🩷🌷

Bucky Barnes ✨

Though I have never read it by @tuiccim

Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Her by @avecra

bucky barnes x reader

Sweet temptation by @jobean12-blog

Bucky Barnes x reader (Mob AU)

Thick as blood / punch in the gut by @dreamlessinparis

Dark!Bucky x Darkish!F!Reader

Say the word and it's yours by @angrythingstarlight

Mafia!Bucky x Reader

Cordially invited by @navybrat817

Modern Knight!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Female Reader

Grandeur by @navybrat817

Florist!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Crossing the line by @jadedvibes

Beefy!Bucky x reader

Give it to me by @flordeamatista

dilf!neighbor bucky barnes x reader

Dirty rock by @jobean12-blog

Bucky Barnes x reader (Rockstar!AU)

Send me an angel by @navybrat817

Soft Dark Bartender!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Hide and seek by @targaryenvampireslayer

Bucky Barnes x female reader

You are my burning love on nights like these by @flordeamatista

knight!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Fem!Reader

Headstrong by @flordeamatista

beefy!bucky barnes x reader

The kiss by @lunarbuck

professor!bucky x f!reader (any race)

Namor ✨

Waves of love by @flordeamatista

Namor x reader

Ari Levinson ✨

Flamingo king by @onsunnyside

Trailer Park!Ari Levinson x inexperienced!reader

Biker!Ari by @angrythingstarlight

Biker!Ari x Reader

Excelled by @syntheticavenger

Dom! Ari Levinson x Female Reader

Steve Rogers ✨

Pretty flowers for a pretty girl by @witchywithwhiskey

farmer!steve rogers x reader

His inheritance by @jtargaryen18

Mobster Steve Rogers x Mobster daughter reader

Eddie Munson ✨

Magic fingers by @jobean12-blog

Eddie Munson x reader

Andy Barber ✨

Sleepy sex by @worksby-d

Andy Barber x fem!Reader

Hold my heart by @flordeamatista

boyfriend!andy barber x reader

Joel Miller ✨

Sweet, sweet sugar by @unrefinedmusings

no outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

Perfectly wrong by @psychedelic-ink

joel miller x fem!reader

Lloyd Hansen ✨

Gratitude by @kinanabinks

Lloyd Hansen x Mayor!Reader

Multiple characters ✨

Wicked little games by @angrythingstarlight

Mafia Steve x Bratty Reader, Bodyguard Bucky x Reader x Bodyguard Andy

Peepshow by @labella420

Ari Levinson x F!Reader, Lloyd Hansen x F!Reader

Let us take care of you by @angrythingstarlight

Mafia Stucky x Assistant Reader

#fic rec #april fic rec #bucky barnes #namor #ari levinson #steve rogers #eddie munson #andy barber #joel miller #lloyd hansen

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holylulusworld · 1 year

Text

Two Kings (4)

Summary: You have fallen in love with the king of Brooklyn. When your wedding day arrives, there is much more to discover about the man you fell in love with than you thought...

Pairing: Prince!Steven Grant Rogers x Princess!Reader

Warnings: angst, modern royal au, dystopian world (kinda), fluff, young love, implied smut

A/N: We are living in modern times, but in a dystopian/post war world. Almost every technology got destroyed.

A/N: For a better understanding - Prince Steve Rogers, Prince Bucky Barnes and Prince Tony Stark are the same age for my story.

Two kings masterlist

<< Part 3

A few months later, …

“Aw, no. It’s raining again,” you sigh as you look out the window. “No walk in the garden then. Do you want to go to the library or to your room?”

“You want me to leave your room?” the prince asks. “I just arrived, and I thought we could spend time together.”

“I’d love that, my prince. It’s just,” you smile softly as you turn around to face the prince, “you are grumpy Steve again. I thought you wanted to be alone for a while.”

“Grumpy Steve?” He steps toward you and places his hand on your shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, you are two Steves,” you giggle. Sometimes you're such a soft, dreamy boy drawing pictures all the time. This Steve always wants to be close to me and cuddle me. And then there is grumpy Steve. You don’t like drawing and spend less time with me. You are distant then, and less clingy.”

“I-“ the prince licks his lips. Without any response, he opens his jacket to get a drawing out of it. "Uh, I have a new frog for you.”

"New frog," you snatch the drawing out of his hand so you can find a place for it. “I love the frogs.” You turn your head to look at Steve. “Don’t get me wrong. I love all of your drawings, but the frogs are the cutest.”

“You like them more than the others?” he asks, as he steps closer to you. “Really?”

“You see, just like your moods, the drawings are different too. Soft Stevie draws beautiful flowers and portraits. But grumpy Steve has this talent for cute frogs, and I love that dog you drew for me some months ago.”

“That was a goat,” the prince sheepishly admits. “Sorry, it didn’t turn out the way I wanted it to.”

“No! I love it,” you protest. “It’s cute. Dog, goat. It doesn’t matter. As for your two moods, I like them a lot. The soft and the grumpy. I like that you pout and wiggle your nose when you’re grumpy.”

You flash the prince a smile. “I do not pout! I’m a man and men do not pout,” he exasperatedly says.

You giggle and wink at the prince.

“You are teasing me, aren’t you?"

“You’re smart too,” you say. The prince pouts, but grabs your hand. Gently. He just holds it for a while staring you in the eyes. “How about we spend some time on my bed?"

The prince nods, afraid to speak now. “I’d like that too.”

“We could cuddle and-“ you cup his cheek with your free hand, “you could touch me again, my prince. I love it when you touch me.”

“T-ouch you,” he stammers. The prince seems nervous as he releases your hand. “I-we…you want me to touch you...again?"

For a moment his blue eyes turn dark. He clenches his jaw and puffs out a breath.

“You know, I love the soft and the grumpy man," you say, standing on tiptoes to press a soft kiss on his lips. “Maybe grumpy Steve wants to make up for being away for so long. What do you say, my prince?”

He swallows the lump in his throat. The prince’s eyes drop to your lips, and further down to your chest. “You are so soft, smart, and beautiful. I think…I think I love you.”

You giggle again.

“No…I mean,” he fights to get the words out. “I love you. I’m sorry it took me so long to tell you—” the prince frowns. He shakes his head and clears his throat. “What I want to tell you is that I’m sorry I don’t say it so often.”

This time, you frown. The last time the prince was around he wouldn’t stop telling you how much he loves you. He swore on his life to love you till the end of the time Now it seems like he forgot about that promise.

“It’s alright, my prince,” you cup his face with both hands. “I love you too. Grumpy. Soft. I don’t care. You have a place in my heart.”

A soft look crosses his face when he looks at you.

You kiss him again. The prince instantly returns the kiss and wraps his arms around your body. He moans into your mouth.

“You are mine, Blossom. Forever mine. No one can take you away from me,” The prince softly whispers against your lips.

“Blossom,” you breathe against him. “I like it.”

“How do you want to spend the day?” you murmur as you wake up in the prince’s arms. You and the prince spent another night together. He was a little nervous last night, but you didn’t mind.

“Can we stay like this all day?” He looks at you in his arms. “I wouldn’t mind holding you in my arms for the rest of my stay.”

“I’d like that, but my father will not like it,” you giggle.

The prince chuckles. “I guess he already knows we did more than cuddle. We are not living in medieval times, you know. It’s not a shame to love each other in any way.”

“Sometimes I wish our world was different. It’s so unfair that-“ you sniffle. “My aunt is pregnant, and she fears it’s another son.”

“Our world is cruel," he chokes out. “If only we could change it. I don’t think killing second sons will save this rotten world. Maybe with the help of Prince Stark and Prince Barnes, we could turn this world into a better place for everyone.”

“What do you mean?” you lift your head to look at the prince.

“I heard my father talk to King Stark,” he whispers so no one can hear him. "They said the law about second sons must be eliminated. It’s inhuman.”

"I completely agree," resting your head on his chest you sigh deeply. “My parents got lucky because I was the firstborn. I never understood why only second sons must die. What if the second daughters want to take over the world? Huh? That’s misogynist.”

“Do you want to take over the world, Blossom?” He grins now. “I’ll help you.”

“Of course, you’ll help me, my prince. We will rule this world. Your soft and grumpy side,” you smile to yourself. “Give me a bit more time to figure out a plan.”

“Father, what do you think about the prince?” you ask a few days after your fiancé left your kingdom.

“He will be a worthy husband and king. The prince is smart, and caring and I know he loves you dearly,” your father softly says. He kisses your temple and wraps his arms around you.

“Why does he never allow me to visit him?" You whisper. “He promised me that I would visit him soon. But whenever I ask him about his home, he turns silent.”

“Young men can be difficult. Maybe he’s afraid you won't like his kingdom. It’s smaller than ours and colder. Flowers hardly grow at his place.”

“You think so? Oh, maybe I should read more books. I could help him grow flowers in his kingdom. I think I'll retreat to the library today."

“Never forget, this bond is important to both you and our kingdoms. We are four kingdoms united by friendship and trust against the world.”

“Four kingdoms?” you question. “What’s that supposed to mean, Father?”

“King Howard Stark, King Joseph Rogers, King George Barnes, and I are allies. We agreed on creating a new world. A safer and less cruel one. One day, we will tell you about it. Just not yet..."

Part 5

Tags in reblog.

#Two Kings (4)#Prince!Steven Grant Rogers x Princess!Reader #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve x reader #fluff

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sapphicsaus · 2 years

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regal ties - wanda maximoff

Summary: the reluctant princess meets the willing warrior.

Pairing: wanda maximoff x knight!female!reader, slight natasha romanoff x reader (eventually just platonic)

i ii iii

“She is the strongest warrior I’ve yet to see.”

“But father, she is merely a woman, not fit to protect a king, or the princess.”

“Untrue, my boy, you have not seen her in battle!”

“You are too kind, my lord.”

“I speaking nothing but truths.”

“The army is off to battle outside of Sokovian lines, and I as your queen have waved your duties as battalion commander.” You face drops at the proclamation. You frown, wiping your dirty mouth with a napkin, and you place it on the table. “Thank you, malady, but may I ask why?”

“The princess will be shipped in from England within the day, and I need her to be watched. You are one of the only people I trust to not let her get hurt.”

“We are discuss trading options with a Duke in the region of Prussia.” You nod to yourself. The king smiles at you.

“I will do as you please, my king.”

“Brilliant.” You take in a breath.

“May I excuse myself?” The king excuses you, and you push out your chair, walking outside of the dining hall. It wasn’t long before your walk led you to the yard where many soldiers were receiving training.

As you approached, Steve noticed and spoke up. “ATTENTION, MEN!” All men stopped their jousting and rushed to the middle of the field at attention. “Commander Y/N has approached.” You grip the handle of your blade and walk up to the men.

“Men! I have been informed by the king that a Duke from Prussia has come to discuss trade. I expect you to be at your best. I have been appointed as a personal detail for the princess, so Commander Rogers will be my successor until I am needed in battle.”

“Finally!” Everyone falls silently as you glare towards them.

“Excuse me?” Silence. “Reveal your foul tongue, or I shall strike you down.”

A large burly man moves through the crowd, and barely towers over you with a smirk. “Steve is more of a leader than you, girl.” Of course Rumlow, the low life servant pig, had something to say. You scoff.

“That may be so, but I must tell you something.” You reach onto your belt, and pull a thick knife of a holster, swiftly swiping it onto his neck. “I was bred of warriors. This blade has killed millions, and will strike a million more. If you decide that I am not fit, so be it, but you will not speak above your station.”

You two began to stare one another down, until footsteps came down the stairs. “Commander!” You turn swiftly, blade still to his neck as you watch the messenger fidget slightly. “Um…the princess is here!”

You walked behind the young boy whom you remembered to be May’s nephew, Peter, as he walked fast to the dock. The weight of your armor slowed you down as the wooden stairs creaked under your thick leather boots.

When you arrived on the dock, everyone seems to bow as she boards off but you don’t. I could have this person hung, she thought. Her dresses was short enough for her to walk out. Servants, including the messenger grabbed her trunks and began to walk them back up. She approached you.

“Princess.” You say with a bow of your head. “Ah, one of father’s lackeys? Does he want you to protect me?” You chuckle slightly as the crew moves past you. “Most insult my sex before they do my integrity, this is a first.”

“I don’t need protective detail, especially from another woman.”

“Ah! There it is, surprised you lasted that long.”

“You are speaking to me as if we are old friends. Know that I am your superior…”

“Y/N.” She scoffs.

“Y/N, stupid name that is.” She walks past you and towards the stairs, and you move to catch up. “I don’t need a protective detail.” She mumbled. You chuckle to yourself.

“Tell that to the arrow I took for your brother. A “friend” tried to assassinate him. The king is being cautious, and as the commander for th-“

“You’re the commander? What of Thaddeus?”

“Killed in battle months ago.”

“Goodness.” You hum as you allow her to pass.

You had arrived to the dining hall where Wanda was greeting her family as Pietro approaches. “I tried with all my might, but they wouldn’t be swayed.” You smile, patting his back.

“It’s alright, your sister is quite the young woman.”

“A wretch that is.” He says, making you snicker. “Not far off.”

“I do love her, but her demeanor is fitting of her title. Spoiled princess.” Wanda is approaching, blatantly ignoring you. “Brother.”

“My sweet Wanda, oh how I have not missed you.” Wanda rolls her eyes as the two embrace. “I assume you’ve met Y/N.” He gestures over to you, making you smirk. “Yes, my lord, it seems as though she loathes the name.”

Pietro looks over at Wanda who shoots you at not so subtle glare. “I love your name, Y/N.” He smirks, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Much appreciated, my lord.”

“Ugh! Have I not told you about the formalities?! No more!” He pats your shoulder, walking off to his parents as your eyes meet Wanda’s. “I’ve only to escort you to your chambers, and you will not see me for the rest of the night.” You say with a kind smile.

“Hmm. And where are your chambers?”

“I sleep in the house near the stables, but my noblemen share my intended room.”

“How come?” You shrug. “I enjoy sleeping naked in bales of hay.”

Wanda looks slightly flustered, making you chuckle. “Sorry for my indiscretion. No, I um…I grew up grooming the horses, they get scared when I’m not near.” Wanda hums. “Well, I’ll bid everyone goodnight, and we can be on our way.” You nod, letting her walk away.

———

The walk wasn’t far, and you has stopped in front of the cottage’s door. “Well. I’ve assigned two guards to watch over you at night. But I’ll probably be here early in the morning. Making my rounds.” You smile as she has no expression.

“Goodnight, princess. Welcome home.” You bow before her, making her crack a smile. When you stand up, you frown at her smile. “What?”

“Rarely anyone bows before me. At school it was only to mock.”

“Oh. Would you like me to stop?” She shakes her head no. “Do as you please.” She gives you a genuine smile before walking into the small cottage.

You nod to yourself, uncrossing your hands from behind your back as you waltzed down the small hill. When you approached the small stable, you noticed your friend. Softly, you ran up to her, capturing her in a big hug that made her laugh, a rarity.

“Let me down, you oaf!” You smile, letting her down as the wind blowed, her soft red hair and your tunic blowing with it. “So...How’s the princess, as spoiled as I heard?” Natasha asks curiously, making you scoff. “All you ladies do is gossip, hmm?” The woman shrugs, ringing out the towel in her hand.

“She is fine, a bit spoiled, but nothing not expected of her.”

“Hmm.” The door on the other side opened, and there May was. “To sleep, you two. The guard don’t like us fraternizing.” You chuckle as Natasha’s hand covered your chest. “I am the guard, May.” She rolls her eyes, brushing you off as she walks out.

“Well, that’s my cue.” She turns back to you, kissing you on the cheek as she walks backwards the door May left from. She gives you an air kiss, and you pretend to catch, punding your chest hard as you fall on your back dramatically, making her laugh.

“Goodnight, oaf.”

“Goodnight, my widow.”

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff au #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #royal au #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x re #natasha romanoff x you

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anika-ann · 2 years

Text

In the Name of the King (S.R.)

Type: medieval/fantasy AU

Pairing: knight Steve Rogers x reader Word Count: 13,000 *

Summary: Sir Steven Rogers, having risen from common people, now one of the most trusted knights to prince Anthony. You, nothing but a servant, albeit to Princess Maria herself.

Love blooms in any place and it cares little for the rules of the court – much like your Steven. Then again, war cares just as little for any feelings you and your knight might harbour for each other...

Warnings: 18+ for NSFW thoughts, talk and sexy times in making, inexperienced and rather reader, probably desperately era-inaccurate, blood and mention of violence, death, religious ambiguity, tooth-rotting fluff, angst, language, (reader has hair long enough to be braided)

A/N: This is sort-of a song fic for it is based on a Czech song. You can find it here. I took the liberty to loosely translate the lyrics for you throughout the fic.

* A/N: If you prefer reading it in two parts, the best part for a split is after 5,5k words – you will find a gif there. Divider’s mine, btw. Enjoy 🥰

Another bolt of lightning illuminated the room. You rolled around in your small bed, squinting against the violent light leaving you blind when the darkness of the night took over again. Your heart, already racing for it was filled with worry, jumped at the clap of thunder – as did you.

A bad sign.

A warning from the Gods.

They should not be out there, settled in a camp and preparing for battle. Storms like these were meant to make mankind bow in front of higher power and yet the cavalry had left in the morning, several troops heading to the West to protect the borders of the kingdom against Hydra, against the self-proclaimed king Pierce.

Gods, how you wished he would get struck by lightning for all the misery he caused to so many people, his own and others alike.

As if the Gods heard your thought, another clap of thunder seemed to shake the castle walls – a scolding for your blasphemy. You should not wish harm to another human being.

Then again, you should not pray to the old gods in the first place, but to the Lord, who shall save your soul from eternal flames of hell. Such were the ways of new religion; yet, it was impossible to let go of the ties to the dogmata you had been raised in.

And so you prayed to both. As fresh light exploded behind your closed eyelids, you prayed not for another man’s harm, but for one’s safety.

You shuffled on your bed, kneeling up, clasping your hands together, whispering under your breath as not to wake the two women sleeping beside you.

Please, bring him home. Protect him. Please, please, please. Should any harm come to him, the world would cease to make sense. Keep Steven safe.

Your Steven.

Your knight.

Your sun, your moon, your stars; with his smile shining as bright as all these combined, surrounding you with gentle warmth from the very first moment he had set his cerulean eyes on you and kneeled by your side to help you collect what your clumsy hands had spilled.

It was early morning, the sun barely peeking out from behind the horizon, colouring the East walls of the castle in orange and pink, the warm sunrays pleasant on your skin as you carried Princess Maria’s breakfast tray. You could not but smile at the gorgeous play of colours; and yet, your gaze wandered as you heard the grunts of effort mingling with light-hearted laughter from the grassy training areas.

A maid could never think herself anywhere near equal with the knights, therefore it was considered unthinkable to harbour feelings for any of them – the laws of the court would frown upon such union. And yet, you were only human of flesh and blood and the warm liquid rushing in your veins always felt hotter whenever you set your gaze on the well-built men.

Their physique easily made for a woman’s heart to race, the heroic tales of their bravery only strengthening the sentiment, as did the tales of their gentlemanly ways. You had witnessed differently, many of them acting overgrown children, but it would be foolish to deny that they were a sight to behold, every single one of them.

One in particular, however, stood out; for he was not only a handsome man, but an extraordinary one. The story of his heroics was spoken of long after it took place, long after his ascension to knighthood.

Of common origin, Steven was the only son of the town’s most valued blacksmith; Steven himself was adept at forging a sword, armour or a shield of the highest quality, but apparently also at wielding it – alert and bright.

Attentive to his surroundings, he had been fast and strong enough to prevent fatal consequences of the attack on Prince Anthony during his visit of the town where he was ambushed by two slayers of the Hydra kingdom. He stopped a deadly strike when dashing between a slayer and the prince, strong arm wielding the shield he had finished earlier that day.

Of all knights, Steven was most loved by the common people for while the rules for knighthood had not changed with his actions and he remained the only one graced with the honour to date, he had proven that a man, no matter of how humble origin, was capable of great things.

A knight from the people. A humble hero.

His features were sharp, but his eyes spoke of softness; he did not seem to lack determination, on contrary, his lineage forged his desire to fight for a better world. Of tall build, he held his head high – an aristocratic face lined with sandy chin-length hair – but for he never forgot where he had come from, he did not look down at people.

You had never spoken to him, but you had heard his voice before; deep, pleasant, respectful. Falling for him despite the distance between you had been as easy as dangerous for your heart. You were but a maid; had you been in love before he was knighted, then perhaps the circumstance would be different, but you had not met him before then. And so you were destined to long him in silence, busying yourself with serving to Her Grace Princess Maria.

Such was your goal at the moment; you were carrying breakfast, you reminded yourself, vainly, of course. The sight offered to you was too distracting to ignore.

As your gaze lingered on the expanse of Steve’s arm swaying the unsharpened training sword with ease, you lost your step – and sent the tray and its content flying, the metal clinking loudly as it hit the stony path.

All the knights’ heads snapped to you in an instant, alert, causing your face to be set aflame under their scrutiny; and as you swiftly kneeled to gather the utensils and food with a silent curse and prayer that most of it was salvageable with another wash, booming laughter hit your ears, causing your cheeks to burn in shame.

“Well done, my friends, our training must truly be aesthetically pleasing!” Prince Anthony’s voice called out, followed by another roar of laughter that chased tears of humiliation into your eyes you barely kept at bay.

Your shaky hands frantically started gathering the fruit – grapes, apple, pear, hopefully not too bruised – as you made to ignore the quickly approaching footsteps. You refused to look up, shame settled deep in your stomach as you assessed the damage, the smallest relief when you found the slices of bread still wrapped in cloth, albeit considerably less white now.

You felt the large man kneel by your side before you registered the hand, clad in fingerless leather glove, appearing in your field of vision. Only when the man begun to gather the scattered grape berries, you dared to look up; and the time must have stopped.

Your heart certainly did as your gaze was met with a pair of the most beautiful kind eyes without a trace of laughter. You lost the reigns of your body – it froze, your mind occupied fully by seeing such grace from such short distance. You had never noticed how plush and alluring his lips were, framed by a short beard; how handsome his face was when one corner of his lips curled up almost uncertainly.

It was the unusual emotion in his smile which pulled you back from your reverie. A knight was kneeling by you, the kingdom’s hero, helping you clean up the outcome of your clumsiness.

How kind of him – how below him

“Oh, Sir Rogers, you must not bother-“

“But I must,” he opposed before you could even finish your sentence, sincerity lacing his voice and by gods, his voice was like velvet lined with silk. His gaze flickered back to the group of knights whose eyes you could feel at you still, intent. “Do not mind the blockheads that are laughing instead of helping a lady.”

A giggle of surprise escaped you, your hand quickly covering your mouth so no one could see; but Sir Rogers could and a smile broke out on his face, a boyish grin sprinkling his eyes with laughter and pride, warm and inviting.

By Lord, he must have been the most handsome man to ever walk the world, more so when he smiled like this. And he called you a lady – you, but a maid.

“I am hardly a lady, Sir Rogers,” you whispered bashfully, your lacking status bringing you grief like you had never experienced – a reminder.

But a mere smile from the man, and you lost the ground under your feet, your heart on your sleeve for him to take, no matter how unthinkable your romance would be.

His fingers took a gentle hold of your wrist, eliciting a gasp from your lips at the tender touch; he spilled several berries into your hand, thumb brushing your sensitive skin, sending the sweetest tingle up your arm.

A blissful smile fought its way to your face despite all reason.

“Well. Your beauty rivals one of a lady. … especially when you bless the castle with a smile like that.”

Oh, your heart fluttered like butterfly wings, your gaze instinctively searching his for the faintest trace of a jest; yet, you found nothing but sincerity.

“S-sir Rogers…”

He released your wrist, already having you mourn the loss; instead, his nimble fingers found one of the loose cornflower blossoms which had broken away from the small bouquet you had gathered to bring with the breakfast. He twirled it in his fingers for a moment, almost absent-mindedly, before his smile softened.

“This one might be broken, but perhaps it could serve its purpose in your hair at least?” he suggested, beckoning lightly to your braid.

Before you could as much as realize he meant it, he reached out, careful fingers – surprisingly so, for such a strong man – stuck the stem to the base of the braid behind you ear, sending your heart into frenzy when the pads of his fingers accidentally brushed your cheekbone.

“Lovely.”

A thank you never spilled from your lips for another voice rudely interrupted your intimate conversation.

“Steven! We fighting or picking flowers? Get your pert arse in here!” Sir Clinton howled, causing you to wince – and the dream world Steven had created for you, one where he could harbour affections for you, started to disperse like a morning fog.

“He’s charming a girl for once in his life, give him a moment!” Sir Barnes, prince’s most entrusted Knight, cried out.

His exclaim was followed by a wave of suggestive boo noise at which Sir Rogers finally tore his gaze from yours, staring at his friends.

“Well if you acted more like knights and less like barbarians, making fun of a lady like that, perhaps I would have taken more haste to come back to you!”

All he earned by his chivalrous defence of your long-lost honour was a chorus of “oooooh” and perhaps later, he would be laughed at just as much as you had been when you had tripped. Yet, he seemed to be bothered little by that fact.

He shook his head, expression speaking of an apology not needed.

“I’m afraid I have been summoned, as rudely as it was.”

You gathered the last items, carefully laying them on the tray, a sad reflexion of how it had looked before you lost your balance and practically fell to Sir Rogers’s feet. As if it was not too late for that.

“Thank you for your assistance, Sir Rogers,” you thanked him sincerely, astonished to find him swiftly rising to his feet – and offering a helping hand you could not dare to refuse even if you wished. His strength made itself known as he pulled you to your feet with little effort on your part, causing your head to spin, the brief curtsy you gifted him at last feeling like a daydream. “You- you are most kind.”

The breath-taking smile shone the force of thousand suns, yet caressed you as gently as a summer breeze. “It was an honour, my lady.”

“I am not a-“

“I hope to see you again soon,” he spoke before you could protest fully, laying his arm over his middle, gracing you with the tinniest of bows you were not worthy of, “smiling just as beautifully.”

With those words, he turned back to the prince and his knights, leisurely running back to the group.

As you walked away, you could not but waver at the corner, casting a last glance at the man; Sir Barnes mimicked a curtsy and proceeded to punch Sir Rogers in his shoulder with laughter. Sir Rogers pushed him away with a playful scowl, gaze wandering you to.

You rushed away, smiling to yourself for the rest of the day, embarrassment long forgotten.

Smiling you were not tonight; fear had seized your heart, consuming you by every moment as you silently stepped out of the princess’ maids’ room, leaving Wanda and Carol sleeping peacefully despite the rumble outside – and in your heavy heart.

You missed your Steven greatly whenever he went, but you understood his duty. Tonight, however, something hovered in the air, an aura of something ominous which had you losing sleep. With a candleholder burning in your hand, you wandered the corridors, nodding to the guards on patrol.

“The seamstress is awake,” Pietro, Wanda’s brother, uttered knowingly, beckoning the direction of Natasha’s chambers.

Perhaps it should have not surprised you that Sir Barnes’ beloved, too, could not find peace on this trying night; and as much joy as it brought you to find yourself not alone, a suffocating feeling squeezed your chest tightly for it meant she might sense the same unease surrounding tomorrow’s battle.

Yet, you headed for her chambers, nodding at Pietro in thank you.

That night, we were all losing sleep it was as if God sent the storm to warn us; oh foolish men, there is no peace in a war I, too, laid down my life in the name of the king.

The warm light of the candle was casting long shadows as you walked, reminding you of how the light and darkness played on Steven’s handsome face last night. The princess had been laid to sleep, providing you with a few moments to spent in your beloved’s presence before he would leave to fight for his country, yet again, and you were not one to waste the chance.

Goodbyes were never easy. Whether it had been just a chance meeting after the fateful breakfast incident, meetings when Steven would insist you called him his name, offered you a flower of a compliment in exchange for your smile or whether your encounter had been planned when he revealed his intention to court you, rules of society damned. Whether you were to tell him goodbye for several days due to an upcoming quest or just for the night. Whether the goodbye consisted of words, a touch, a kiss on a cheek or lips… never easy.

Yet his absence left larger ache in your heart the deeper you were falling in love. Every goodbye seemed harder than the previous one; last night parting made for no exception.

“I will think of you every moment I am away,” he promised sweetly as he sneaked his arm around your waist, sitting on the bench by the dying fire in the kitchens, long abandoned by the cooks.

Your body, pliant to his touch, melted into his strong form, arm laying over his torso, temple resting against his chest as you sighed, feeling your worry heavy in your stomach.

“As much I appreciate the sentiment, please do not, Steven.”

You could almost hear his frown as he nuzzled your hair, his lips brushing your forehead lovingly.

“Why not, my sweet? Will you not think of me as well?” he questioned, voice wavering despite his teasing tone.

You swatted his hip gently, soothing the attack with a caress then.

“You must know that is not true. I—you must focus. Be careful. So you can come back to me,” you whispered, doing your best not to let the depth of your anxiety show.

Steven carried enough burdens for the time being, he needed not your fears to add to them.

“Oh my sweet…”

His fingers slipped under your chin, leading you to meet his gaze, a smile playing in the corners of his lips; not even his beard could hide his amusement. You pursed your lips in slight offence – his safety was no laughing matter.

“Please, Steven. I could not bear any harm coming to you. Be careful.”

His thumb brushed over your lower lip, his smile only growing, wandering gaze warmer than the remnants of fire.

“You know I will, my sweet. I have a duty to my king and I have a duty here, to you,” he muttered, gaze flickering to your lips, following the motions of his thumb as he felt the softness of your flesh.

You had not enough time to process the words before he leaned closer, capturing your lips with his in a kiss, hand moving to cradle the back of your head, parting your lips to engage in a dance of love which could have consumed all your thoughts, all your worry – and yet, the anxious feeling only dug its claws deeper, chasing tears into your eyes.

Steven released you to breathe the moment he felt the salt of your tears, sighing as he tucked a lose strand of hair behind your ear. Still, a smile adorned his now kiss-swollen lips, condescending and kind at once.

“Promise me?” you demanded, the prickle of his beard leaving your skin tingling, your heart racing.

“I promise, then. Do not cry, my lady…”

Oh, the traitor… the corners of your mouth twitched, the difference in your status having turned more of a teasing matter than anything else.

“Steven, you must stop this. I am not a lady.”

“Oh, but you are?” he opposed with a twinkle in his eyes before his lips went to catch the tears from your cheeks, drinking them as if they were nothing less than ambrosia gifted by the gods.

The warmth of his lips and the burn of his beard combined with his jesting drew a giggle from your lips, turning into a breathless moan when his strong arms winded around your waist, pulling you into his lap just like several nights ago.

Dirty, dirty cheater.

His lips found yours again, playful nips causing more giggles spill right into his mouth.

“Am I, truly?” you asked doubtfully. “What are my possessions? What lands do I own and command, Sir Rogers?”

“My heart.”

The jesting and games left as swiftly as they arrived, silence filling the room, your heart stumbling in your chest as you felt your expression morph into something much softer.

How had you ever stood a chance of not falling for this man? For his strength, for his beautiful brave spirit and his gentle, gentle heart? A heart he claimed was yours to own and command?

You let your fingers map out his handsome features, running tenderly over his forehead, brows, the nose of a true aristocrat, his pushy lips; a careful touch which had him flutter his eyes shut, eyelashes casting shadows on his cheekbones, the fire as if accenting his beauty, revealing his soul to entice yours to entangle with it forever.

“It shall be my most prized possession, then,” you whispered, barely audible, his hand blindly reaching for yours to kiss your fingertips, one by one, the tender gesture tugging at your heartstrings.

He looked at you then, with overwhelming affection that would choke you once he left in the morning – but you could not think of such things now. He was here still. And he was yours, as you were his.

“Good,” he hummed. “Should you trust me with yours-“

“I do-“

“I shall ask for it in front of the Lord and the gods themselves.”

Your lips parted in surprise, your heart suddenly so loud you could almost hear it, breath catching in your throat. Surely, he did not mean-

“Once I return, I shall ask for your hand, should you agree, my sweetness,” he promised, eyes wide and sincere, stunning you into silence lasting long enough to have him hesitate. “Do you not-“

Oh, how could he even question your wish to marry him!

“I do! I--- but Steven, you are a knight. I would spend thousand lifetimes with you if I could, surely you must know-“ you babbled, his index finger covering your mouth before you could explain.

You would love him always, day and night, from summer solstice to winter and back, and you cherished every moment--- yet the void between you was immense.

“I will settle for one lifetime. You know Anthony cares little for rules and I am but of a common origin myself. What kind of a monster would stand in the way of our love?”

It was not until morning when you realized the answer to his question; when you watched him from above as he stood in the courtyard by his horse, fastening the scabbard to the saddle and tugging at the leather, checking it would hold as they would ride.

You hated seeing him leave more than ever – you dreaded the moments his horse would canter out of the castle’s gates, rushing so willingly to face dangers the other kingdoms posed; to serve his king, your king, to protect what he held dear.

His gaze travelled up the castle’s walls, lingering at the windows of the princess’ chambers – the very windows you were watching him from, stealing last glances as your heart wept and trembled in fear for his life, longing for him to keep the promises he had given you last night.

With the prince’s command, the knights and soldiers left but ache and dust behind, along with an answer.

War.

The biggest and only true monster standing in the way of love was war.

The word resonated with you, leaving you weary and in frenzy at once, as you reached Natasha’s chamber, not needing to knock for her door was ajar – as if she knew you would be coming; as if she did not want to be alone either.

You slipped into her chamber, welcomed by a humourless but gentle smile.

“A pleasant night, is it not?” she hummed noncommittally, “leave the door open, please. Just in case…”

Just in case there would be any commotion in the castle. Perhaps the knights and soldiers would come back, accepting the warning from the Gods. Perhaps, perhaps…

Natasha’s room was relatively spacious for it equalled her craft-space. Besides a small bed with a solid wooden frame, several tables stood covered in pieces of fabric from simplest to the rarest ones, embroideries, bobbin lace, silk. Dresses in various state of completion laid over them or hung on improvised metal frames imitating princess’ lean figure. Silver and golden threads shone in the warm lights provided by a few candles by the stony walls, flickering to life as another lightning erupted behind the window, followed by a distant clap of thunder.

The storm was leaving. Could that be because the danger was not as great or that the gods had given up on the king’s army since they were not heard out?

“Personally, I would say a long night. An ominous one,” you whispered, earning a sigh.

Natasha ceased her work on a lovely silvery embroidery, laying the tambour frame on the nearest flat surface and rose to her feet, a silent offer you accepted with gratitude for the arms you longed to find yourself in were miles away.

She reciprocated the embrace firmly and you felt an ounce of your fear fall from your shoulders for now you shared the weight of it – yours and hers alike. Her goosebumps matched yours as she slipped hr arms under the flimsy shawl you had taken to cover yourself form gazes of the guards. Both of you wore but in simple nightgowns besides it, yet you sensed cold was not to blame for the prickle of her skin either.

Losing sleep with anxiety and intrusive thoughts were at work instead.

“The weight of fears is lessened when one’s hands are occupied,” she informed you as she let go, brows furrowed with worry still, sighing. “But what of mind…”

Oh, you wished…

“I must try to busy my hands too then, at least.”

At your words, Natasha’s lips curled up in a smile yet again as she handed you your very own tambour frame which you kept in her chambers for such occasion, for sleepless or nightmare-filled nights such as this one.

You found your seat by hers, not fully across, not fully by her side, assessing the floral pattern you had started almost a month ago.

Natasha had been kind enough to sneak some of the royal threads for your work, expensive ones; threads no one would miss nevertheless for Nat was likely the most trusted woman in the castle besides the cook and the princess herself.

She jested you only deserved the very best for your wedding gown once Steven would lay his heart to your feet and you had been working on it since with the deepest care. Tonight, however, tears burned in your eyes as you observed it, the pattern as if mocking you with Steven’s entirely serious promise.

“He shall come back,” Natasha spoke, your expression not escaping her sharp attention. This of all her qualities was what made for her unparalleled ability as a seamstress – her attention to detail. “They all will, Steven and Bucky included.”

Bucky. Sir Barnes. Natasha’s beloved. He too was likely to be pestered about courting a seamstress, but Natasha was well-loved among the noble – the court would never bat an eye and passed no judgement, yet Sir Barnes had not yet asked Natasha’s hand in marriage. She rested unbothered by such; for all you knew of your friend, she would have asked his hand in marriage should she decided she was in a rush.

The thought made you smile for you were aware of the fact Sir Barnes would have said yes and thanked her, worshipped her more than ever. Their love was strong… and word had it that they shared a deep bond beyond pure love, crossing the lines of physical and perhaps the lines of proper. Natasha had hinted at such herself before.

Should you marry Steven as you wished, you were willing to cross as many lines as necessary yourself. You were willing to do just about anything to ensure he would not change his mind, that he would not be plagued with as much as a seed of doubt.

You believed your most trusted friend could be of assistance… without passing judgement.

“Natasha?” you spoke without looking up as you focused on continuing the cornflower with your needle. “I heard rumours.”

“Oh? Of what? Do tell, my dear. I am always happy to learn of the whispers laugh over them at times.”

You felt the blush creeping up your neck, your stomach twisting in embarrassment. Perhaps what you had heard was nonsense – something to laugh over as Natasha just said, nothing but a foolery you had believed in your naivety and inexperience.

“I must say now I am truly curious for your silence lasts too long. And you seem ashamed… just tell me,” she prompted you gently.

You noticed from the corner of your eye she had stopped working, only adding to your nerves.

Your felt the tips of your ears burn as you attempted to keep your tone and expression nonchalant nevertheless, clearing your throat.

“I heard rumours of… making men happy.”

“That does sound promising. Gold, glory or a woman can do that do them.”

You chuckled despite yourself as she deadpanned, some of your embarrassment melting away.

“I overheard a servant talking of ways a woman can please a man without… without sinning? As in truly sinning in the eyes of the Lord? Have you ever, uhm, heard of such thing?”

Silence settled over the room, hanging heavy above your heads.

The storm had left far enough so that no claps of thunder reached you anymore, no bolts of lightning interrupted the intimate atmosphere.

Nearly pricking yourself with a needle in anticipation, you opted for ceasing your work, hesitantly looking up, meeting Natasha’s curious eyes with a sparkle of mischief that had you lower your gaze again.

“I have. And they are true,” she said simply at last, sending your heart racing.

Oh. So it was the truth then. There was an experience more pleasurable for men than you knew, places where Steven might appreciate your lips more than on his cheek, in his hair, on his mouth or even his neck. Your temples pulsed with the intensity of each beat of your heart at the revelation.

“Do you… do you know of it, Natasha?” you asked, fingers toying with the fabric in your lap.

“I do.”

Your head snapped to her; she was smiling playfully, head tilted to side – a cat that got all the cream and was bragging to her less sneaky friends.

You huffed and pursed your lips, not liking one bit to be made fun of; yet, you needed to know. And so you eased your offence, looking at the redhead pleadingly, baring your heart to her; for you knew that despite her smirk, she would never truly laughed at you.

“Would you please, please, tell me? I… he promised me yesterday. That he would come back and ask-“

“To marry you? Good Lord! Steven promised to marry you at last?!” she gasped, her eyes truly sparkling now, all teasing gone.

You nodded, unable to prevent your lips from forming a smile at the thought, and continued.

“I want to be a good wife to him one day…. but I would like to show him I will be able to make him feel good. What if he wonders if I can please him? He promised me everything and I-- I want to give him the same. Gods know marrying someone of my status will come with burdens and judgement… I don’t… I don’t want to disappoint him, to make him question his decision.”

Natasha’s booming laugh was a reward for your honesty, startling you.

Was this the first time you appeared utterly stupid to her? Silly? It was such a painful feeling… But once her laughter died down, she observed you with kindness, grinning wide and shaking her head.

“I cannot imagine a world in which Sir Steven Rogers could ever be disappointed in you. That man would build a ladder tall enough to reach the stars should you ask him to bring you one.”

Oh.

The shame dispersed in a blink of an eye, warmth enveloping your heart instead. Was that how Steven appeared to others in regard of his feelings for you?

“But very well. I shall tell you – he is only a man, after all. He will appreciate it, of that I am certain. But know, he can please you in a very similar way. And he should – sin or not.”

“…does Sir Barnes please you in such way?” you asked on a whim, taken by surprise at her revelation.

“Oh, but a lady does not kiss and tell!” she mocked offence, her coy smile answering your question. “Perhaps he shares the secrets of his mastery with Steven and you shall be very surprised when you succumb to him.”

The mere idea – so strange and yet incomprehensibly arousing since you had no experience with it nor you could imagine drawing pleasure from such activity – chased blood to your cheeks, having them burn hotter than fire.

The longing for Steve’s presence hit you sharper than the edge of his shield and sword combined, leaving your head swimming and your chest aching.

“He must return home safe first,” you murmured, exchanging a gaze of understanding with your friend, followed by her smile when you asked an innocent question. “Would you pray with me later?”

“I will. And they will. But now… I shall share the wonders of driving a man mad in ways he will thank you for.”

And by gods and Lord, she did.

Strange cavalrymen are racing from the forest in our eyes, but droplets of fear – here, to kill is no sin. The very first shot has silenced my heart I shall not return home; my time has come.

(In the name of the king!)

Little did you know that in the darkness of the night, cut by bolts of lightning, howl of the wind, distant claps of thunder and the aroma of rain in the air as if warning them not to go into the battle, Steve laid awake, his thoughts were with you as well.

The tent shared with the rest of the knights protected him from the disgrace of a weather raging outside, light snores a strange lullaby Steve had grown almost fond of during the years of comradeship. He could recognize every single one of his friends by that sound alone, distinct to each; and despite that fact only strengthening the sense of belonging and his gratitude to be given the opportunity to become a knight, he longed for nights to spend with you at last.

The idea brought a smile to his lips; you would lie beside him, facing him, wide eyes watching him with affection, drunk on the pleasure he would have given you but moments before, warm palm gently laid on his cheek as if begging him to kiss your wrist. He would oblige – he would always give in to whatever you asked – but in the end, he would wrap his arm around your waist and roll you over to pull you to his front, align his body to yours, inch by inch. He would drop a goodnight kiss to your bare shoulder, causing you to shiver and snuggle ever closer and let the sleep take you both.

And in the morning, he would wake only to make love to you again, because he would be allowed; because you would be married at last.

He had promised you as much last night and it was a promise he intended to keep. Just like he had promised himself he would bring all the pleasure he ever dared to think of, clinging to his mind ever since the night you had treated his wound from training, giving him but a taste of bliss.

The way you lowered your gaze when he called you beautiful still, the shape of your lips when you smiled, your tender hands scratching at his scalp when he kissed you.

The warmth of your body seeping into his skin.

He could only imagine how much warmer and inviting your heat would be once he was allowed. Oh Lord, how he had wished to have been allowed that night…

The way the torches illuminated your face made him yearn to pick up a piece of charcoal and a scroll of parchment meant for significant documents to capture the alluring image of you – an image which to him felt just as important as a treaty between kingdoms.

It was rather unusual for him to see you from his angle for normally he towered several inches above you, having you have to tip your head back to reach his lips. You had seated him there, however, and your expression left no space for protests once you learned he had been injured in the evening training, grazed by a little too sharpened sword which cut through his armour, made for a bruise and broke through his skin as well.

You were no physician, you had said, but you could clean and dress a wound like this.

A frown to your brow clouded your soft features with disapproval as you placed the bowl of warm water on the only table in the room, careful not to tip over the small vial of alcohol you had obtained for him. You pulled at the white cloth thrown over your shoulder, dipping one of the edged in the water before glancing at him and halting in your movements as if seeing him for the first time that night.

“What weighs your mind, my sweetness?” he asked silently.

“You not being careful enough,” you retorted as if on instinct; and then your teeth pulled lightly at your lower lip, indignation melting into bashfulness. “Uhm, I believe you will have to- to take off your shirt.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Steve’s lips. That did sound reasonable, yet he felt a slight pull at his nerves as you did at the realization.

You had never seen him bared of his garments, never seen his upper body exposed – or his lower half for that matter. He feared not your judgement for that would be ridiculous. But perhaps he did feel a bit anxious to fulfil your expectations.

A baseless worry, truly; the moment he slipped his shirt off, gritting his teeth at the pull at his cut, you were left staring at him, suddenly mute, lips parted with a soft sigh that spoke of everything but disappointment.

Steve would have been a liar should he say he did not feel pleased, his ego stroked gently. He had worked for the strength in his upper body his whole life and he worked hard for he had been born a weakling. Now muscles adorned his torso, a prove of power he had when wielding a sword and a shield. And by Lord, by would wield it for your eyes only had you always watched him with this silent wonder.

“Did cat get your tongue, my dear?” he teased lightly, unable to hide the smugness when you tore your gaze away from the newly exposed skin, caught staring. “I would never use my strength to hurt you.”

“I know,” you squealed before clearing your throat and composing yourself. “I was merely… assessing the damage.”

He was sure you were.

“Of course. Do you need me to strip anything else-“

“No--! This… this will certainly suffice. Thank you,” you smiled at him shakily, feeding his ego further with your embarrassment. “Just sit back for now, Steven, and let me clean the wound-- oh.”

You tilted your head to side curiously, gaze zeroed above his left hip.

Steve knew instantly what caught your eye.

The black lines were thick despite the size no bigger than his own palm, a small work of art many still frowned upon. You did not seem offended nor, Lord forbid, horrified. Merely curious – perhaps even fascinated.

“May I?” you asked in a whisper, already moving forward and reaching out your hand.

Steve gulped.

Yes, you may, by all means, he longed to say. Touch it, trace every line with your fingers, with your lips, your tongue even-

“Of course,” he rasped instead, scolding himself for his dirty thoughts.

Yet, as if you heard what was on his mind, the pads of your fingers brushed over the tattoo, a featherlight touch in a place where your skin had never met his before and set it on fire.

“A wolf?”

“Yes.”

You pursed your lips lightly in a sign of disapproval and so Steve rushed to explain.

“Bucky often jested we were a pack of wolfs rather than a group of knights and so we all chose a wolf. Do you… not like it? “

You met his gaze briefly, shaking your head with a shy smile, taking your touch away; and he already carved it again.

“No, it’s beautiful, just… a little aggressive.”

“Well, wolves are fierce warriors. Strong, loyal,” he pointed out, hoping you would not miss the weight behind his next words. ”Protective of their own.”

Their own. His own. You might not be a fellow knight nor family nor his wife yet, but he would lay his life to protect you should it be necessary.

And you could bet the royal jewels he would fight aggressively had anyone tried to harm you.

“Then you could have not chosen better,” you whispered, laying a kiss to your fingertips before pressing them to the artwork again, having Steve’s breath catch.

He wished you would kiss it with your lips directly – but then you would have to kneel in front of him, giving him a completely different idea as to where your lips could be and the imagery alone would be permanently etched into his mind.

So perhaps it was for the best that you had not, for he felt his arousal growing at the thought alone; instead, you moved to take care of his cut.

Your dominant hand dutifully wiped around the wound first, tender but thorough, your focus as sharp as one of an archer aiming to hit the middle of the clout. Your other hand rested against his shoulder for balance as you stood between his legs crouched and a little twisted, your position slightly awkward and no doubt uncomfortable.

“Sit, my sweetling.”

You gazed up at him, eyebrow raised questioningly, as surprised by his suggestion and he was for a moment.

Needless to say that at the moment, he was eternally grateful that Bucky and Clint had left for the town’s tavern, celebrating news of Clint’s wife Laura finding herself with her first child – leaving you and him alone.

“I must not block the light and have to be able to reach the bowl. I cannot very well sit, Steven,” you explained softly, blinking when he grasped at your hand and tugged at it lightly.

“You will not block the light,” he opposed, closing the gap between his thighs and leading you closer to stand by his legs and pulling at your skirt a fraction, “if you are sitting, straddling me. Come, my love. It shall be much easier for you.”

Your eyes grew adorably wide at his suggestion, softening at the endearment. Reluctantly, you obeyed, climbing over him and lowering your weight on his thighs, leaning onto his shoulder as not to fall. Steve welcomed the weight you brought with you, your breaths fanning his face as you shifted in attempt to find a comfortable position.

You met his gaze with an apologetic smile as if you had not just gifted him with your intimate proximity.

“Am I not too heavy like this?”

Oh even if you were, Steve would never dare to tell you in order to keep you so close to him for the rest of his days; let alone when you moved a few inches and brushed his most sensitive spot.

Oh Lord, he was going to hell, but it mattered not if he had his time with an angel before he would go.

“Like a feather, sweet. Comfortable? Stable?”

He placed his hands on your waist to ensure better balance and you smiled at him, gaze flickering to his naked chest, a gorgeous flush rising to your face.

Yes, he could go to hell for at the moment, he was having a taste of heaven.

“Yes. I shall work now.”

Steven wanted not to show he felt the sting as you continued cleaning the wound; but he found out letting you see him vulnerable was not the worst thing possible to happen.

When a hiss escaped his lips at the burn of alcohol, your eyes snapped to his with an unspoken apology; and his pain was soothed by the softest of kisses.

He stole several more from your lips, squeezing your waist, toying with the hem of your bodice before he let you continue, demanding such compensation every time you made his jaw tick with pain; and with each kiss, his hunger grew, each encounter of lips longer than the previous.

The moment you were to take a fresh cloth to finish cleaning with water once again, Steve knew he could not let you. Not yet; he drew too much pleasure from this, having you, his dutiful carer, seated in his lap, soft and tender and unwittingly seductive.

Your lips had grown swollen from the kisses, calling for him to taste you again – and Steve was not one to ignore a call like that.

With a small noise of surprise on your part, he claimed your mouth again, hand reaching to cradle your face, gentle thumb stroking your cheek and coaxing you into giving in. Your body melted into his, pliant, lips succumbing to his advances and he felt something in him roar, a proud primal thing boasting at your trustful submission.

His arm wound around your waist firmly, pulling you chest to chest, your gasp of surprise swallowed by his mouth, your hands catching on his arm and in his hair, making him groan at the sensation which sent an impulse straight into groin.

It made his pants too tight all of sudden; he had no doubt it did not escaped your attention.

Yet you did not protest, your breathing turning heavy, your heart hammering against his chest and under his palm laid on your neck. You seemed to force your grip on him to ease, grasping at remnants of sanity in the whirlwind of need – and so he followed your example and released your lips for a moment.

“My love, my sweetling…” he whispered, drunk on the assault of sensations, drunk on everything that made you you.

How sweet you were, so effortlessly, unconsciously alluring to all his senses. The scent of your skin, the taste of your lips, the tender heat of your touch as you mimicked all little acts of affection he had ever shown you, your lips, hesitant and shy, wandering to his neck or the hollow of his throat to treat him.

The most beautiful sight, eyes unknowingly blown with lust and wide with surprise at once as you felt his arousal he simply could not help, not with a temptress like you in his lap. Innocent but quickly learning from him, from others too no doubt – for you recovered from your shock, your trembling hands settling on his shoulder for support, grinding against him and by Lord, Lord, he wished to take you right there.

He had women in the tavern touch him before for money, he had eased the pressure in his loin thinking of how sweet your heat would be, but he would never – he could never. Not before he married you, not before he promised his love to you in front of the whole world.

Yet, the way your eyelids fluttered shut at the foreign feeling, your lips parting with a shaky exhale at the first taste of pleasure, had his hands travel up your waist, teasing the underside of your breasts. He craved to taste you there too, almost as much as he longed for the ambrosia awaiting him between your legs, a cure which would make all the pain above his collarbone disappear completely.

“Oh Steven-“ you whispered as your thighs trembled when his hips buckled up, his name on your lips like an oil to the fire and a gush of wind strong enough to put the fire out at once.

He could feel the pressure in him building, his hands twitching to untie your bodice, ruck up your skirts and pull his pants down to remove all barriers between you, just him, you and absolute bliss--- but he could not, fuck, he must not do that to you.

He seized your mouth with his to swallow your sigh of pleasure; a desperate claim with a smidge of teeth for he felt his control slipping and he needed to take reigns of his desires at once, before he’d do things that could grant him instant gratification but would make for regrets later on.

He grabbed your hips, forcing his own to cease the instinctive motions, preventing your own as well.

A small pitiful sound which almost broke his resolve for it had his blood boiling escaped your kiss-swollen lips, leading him to stray from your mouth to your neck, heavy breaths expanding his chest as much as they did yours, every inhale of yours causing your breasts to brush against his naked chest.

You shall not give into temptation, you shall not give into temptation—

“Lord--- my sweet, my sweetling, how you tempt me,” he panted into your skin, unable to resist a small taste of it, one last time, causing your breath to catch in your throat.

“I must not dishonour you in such way, but…” He dared to look up to your flushed face, instantly regretting it for the acute need in his groin grew tenfold at the sight of your own desire written all over your features. “Lord knows it is the most difficult and yet the sweetest trial I have ever faced. You are beautiful, so beautiful…”

He ran his fingers over your cheek, over the slightly irritated skin where his beard scratched when his lips had sought to drink from yours, the corners of your lips now lifted in a shy smile.

“As you are handsome… how hard it is not to give in to a sin. I have never known until I met you, Steven,” you admitted, somehow appearing abashed and pleased at once.

His beautiful kind bashful minx of a woman. How could he not fall in love with you?

“I feel the same, my sweet. I love you. I thank the Lord for you every day.”

Your eyes shone with affection as you cupped his face and planted a soft kiss on his forehead.

“I thank the gods and the Lord for you and your love every day as well. I love you. You must be more careful, Steven,” you whispered, gaze flickering to the wound you had not finished cleaning, worry clouding your features.

Oh should you always react in such way, curing him with loving kisses and the same passion you had shown him a moment ago, Steven thought that he should be, as matter of fact, much more careless.

But he could not tell you that – and he would not. He would soon put a plan in motion to spend the rest of his life with you. What kind of a fool would he be should he not try his hardest to make that life as long as possible?

“I will, my sweet. I will.”

Momentarily soothed, you kissed his lips softly and returned to your original task.

Should he keep his promise, Steve needed to catch a shut-eye at last – and chase those sinful memories away.

An early morning awaited them, the last training and a battle to be won to earn his reward; to no longer think of you, but to be graced with your presence… and to be granted your hand in marriage as well.

To reach victory, however, every single man, every knight and soldier, had to be in their best shape, in their sharpest minds, for Hydra could be cunning and unpredictable.

Defeat was not an option for Steve; he had too much to fight for.

For his king.

For his kingdom and the people.

For you.

Oh you.

How you would cry upon learning how desperately outnumbered the Starkerbürg army was. How you would weep, precious tears running down your face once you were to be informed of the victory coming with too high of a price.

Your tears would make for an ocean when you would see only a handful of men coming back, Natasha’s beloved a picture of blood and grief as he had witnessed Steve being one of the first men to get hit.

You would have drowned in your own tears if you only knew Steven’s last thoughts belonged to no one but you. The last thing he had seen looking up into the morning sun as he lied on his back, body too heavy to rise once more and fight, was your loving smile.

Steve could not bear to see you crying; so he was grateful for leaving this world with your smile in his thoughts instead.

Do not weep for me, my beautiful Marian, when the tower bell rings to honour soldiers, proud My heart is silent, but in you there shall remain all the words that flare up like fire.

The storm did not return the following night – yet the uneasiness in your heart found you in Natasha’s chambers again, frantically working on your embroidery for busy hands were meant to settle an unsettled mind.

You retreated back to your simple bed earlier than the previous night however, your body feeling the consequences of missing sleep the night prior, exhaustion wearing you down and sweeping you to dreamland as soon as your head touched the sheets.

Yet, you were woken up with the first chirps of birds, the castle still wrapped in dark shadows – but lively with a haste that could only mean one and one thing only.

The troops were coming back.

You threw away your flimsy cover, searching for your shawl in a haste, your heart threatening to jump out of your chest with anticipation.

They were back. Steven was back!

Wasn’t it too early for them to return? Had something gone wrong? Was he injured during the battle? Had he lost a dear friend?

You caught Wanda’s sleepy eye as you stumbled out of the room, noticing Carol’s bed already empty – she always had been a light sleeper so the commotion in the castle must have intrude her rest before it did yours.

The corridors were brimming with servants and guards, all taking haste to gather in the courtyard by the gate, heavy footsteps and the rattle of armour ominous as you were still wiping sleep from your eyes and hurried along.

Gods please, I am begging you, Lord – let him be alright. It is but all I ask. Perhaps a cut for me to clean with care and love, a bruise for me to kiss tenderly--- grant me the sight of him, standing tall and healthy, smiling with relief to be home.

Breath had nearly left you by the last stairs, every beat of your heart almost painful against your ribcage, but you cared little for it, willing your feet to hurry still.

They had returned! Only a few more steps and you would be able to see them, dealing with neglecting the princess later on after your soul would meet its other half, chasing all worries away and wrapping you in his love instead. A few more steps only, to find peace-

You gasped as you found yourself in the courtyard at last, your soul nearly leaving your body in fright at the sight of several men looking a miserable excuse for knights – clothing torn, bloodied, articles of armour missing, two horses barely limping by their side.

Prince Anthony in the centre, supported by Sir Barnes and Sir Barton. Sir Drax leading the horses. Your eyes skimmed over what you believed was Mr. Thorn, Mr. Vaughn and Mr. Richards and a few men you did not recognize for their beaten faces or for having never met them before.

Cold seeped into your bones upon seeing that there were not more than thirty – and they appeared to carry themselves with the last remnants of strength, attempting to support one another.

There was no doubting whether there were others on their tail – they were not.

A pained cry erupted from your throat at the sharp pain piercing your chest, hand grasping at your sternum as to sooth it as the realization dawned to you.

No more men were coming. The pitiful remnants of an army stood before you by their prince, their future king, whom they protected with their lives--- and many loyal soldiers and knights were left behind, having kept their promise and laying their lives in the name of the king.

Steven was one of them.

Another sob escaped your lips as you rubbed at your breastbone, scratching that terrible itch that seemed to be spreading through your veins, burning and so devastatingly cold against the tears springing from your eyes, rolling down your cheeks.

Your lungs ached as you took a hungry gasp for air, violent tremble seizing your body, your head shaking of its own volition, stubbornly rejecting the plain facts laid in front of you. You understood – you understood in an instant, but your mind, and more so, your heart refused to acknowledge the gut-wrenching truth.

He was gone.

How could he---how could he be gone? He had promised! He had promised to come back and to be careful and to love you and to ask your hand in marriage for he cared not for who you were and who was him, only who you were together, he-

Steven was an epitome of strength and bravery and loyalty and trust and all the virtues known to man. How could he… how could he simply cease to exist? That must have been gods’ mistake for certain, for it made not an ounce of sense.

Steve was a knight, a fierce warrior, protective of his own as his comrades were supposed to be and yet they were standing there and he was not--- how could that be?

Surely this must have been but a nightmare. A nightmare your tired, fear-clouded mind had invented to make for an encounter all the sweeter, sweeter than Steven’s lips… sweeter than his promises.

Then why were you still dreaming? How had the terrible ache not tugged at your hand and pushed you back to reality?

Was your fear truly so paralyzing it had trapped you in your nightmare?

A flash of red hair caught your eye, Natasha’s hasty embrace nearly causing Sir Barnes topple over and the truth of the terrible scene in front of you twisted the knife in your chest.

There was no denying anymore; there was no waking up from this.

This was the price you paid for war: love. Your love was no more.

“What is it like?” you whispered shyly, teeth worrying over your lips as you wondered whether you had the right to ask.

You toyed with the soft ends his hair, a little too long perhaps, but only adding to the air of a nobleman he might be not, but certainly resembled. Steve was simply too handsome of a man to be a commoner, you would think people believed; and despite his heart of gold, his gentle hands brushing over your cheek as you laid on the grass only a few moments from the castle’s gate, you had to agree.

His beauty rivalled the sun itself; and his love bested the one of the sun as well.

“How-- I mean… on the battlefield. What is it like to fight?”

He tilted his head to side, frowning at you as he appeared to contemplate your inquiry – perhaps an inappropriate one. Yet you could not seem to help it for you wanted to know him more, you wanted to know everything… you wanted to be close to your love even at times when you were not for he had rushed to defend the crown and the kingdom.

“I apologize, I-“ you hurried, only to be interrupted with a shake of his head, sending his golden locks flying adorably.

“It is… loud. Chaotic. Cruel sometimes,” he tried to explain, cerulean eyes filling with an absent look, pulling him away from your happy moment.

And yet, his embrace was as tender as ever as you laid your heavy head on his chest.

His fingers slipped under your chin, insistent to see you instead of the horror which was no doubt etched in his mind. You were certain a single look at the terror would haunt you – left you terrified for your every breath. How could Steven simply lie here with you, heart on his sleeve, kind and inviting?

“And do you not… do you get scared?”

It must have been written in your eyes. Or perhaps Steven was such talented observer, reading between the lines, reading in your deepest thoughts; for he saw a plea and not another question.

Your plea of please, say yes. Tell me that for all your bravery, you do feel fear. Tell me that for all your heroism, you are only a human made of flesh and blood and strength and weakness and dreams, as am I.

“Sometimes, yes,” he admitted with a self-deprecating smile. He grasped your wrist in his long fingers tenderly, ran them over your palm and then fingers, only to bring them to his mouth, kissing every single fingertip. “But then I think of you.”

“You do?” you queried, doubtful and confused.

“Yes. And it gives me strength. I think of you, my sweet,” he whispered sincerely, “and my father and the kids playing pebble toss and five stones and… I recall in the midst of chaos what is it we fight for.”

Touched, you strained your neck to steal a kiss from the lips spilling the tender words, words speaking of Steven’s good heart; words helping you remember just how good of a man your Steven was.

And how your heart, whenever in his orbit, belonged to him more than to yourself.

He pecked your lips, smiling wider then, honest, and dropped a kiss on your nose.

“And I am not alone. Tony, Bucky, Clint, Drax, even Peter or Scott and others. They might all be dollop heads…” You failed to stiff a giggle at his choice of words, knowing he was not mistaken. “But they are skilled fighters. I shall not trust them with saving me lunch, but I trust them with my life.”

Skilled fighters they were, such you had had the chance to witness before. It stood to reason to believe Steven then. The knights could protect each other, having each other’s back, fighting all for one and one for all.

And so as difficult as it seemed whenever Steven had gone, you knew he trusted his friends – and you shall try to do the same.

The words Steven had spoken to you that day echoed in your head, bouncing around like little goblins, mocking you for your and Steve’s naivety.

I trust them with my life.

How foolish a man of his wits could be? How could you have allowed his empty promises to lull you into peace of heart?

I trust them with my life.

There was no denying Steven put his faith in those who were not worthy of it.

And for his foolery he had paid the highest of prices. His life. Your love.

Through the mist of your tears, you noticed the valets letting flags down the balconies; already signalling kingdom’s grief for the fallen men. Black as night and yet not black enough to capture the true nature of sorrow.

You blinked away the salty droplets burning in your eyes as people passed you, leading the survivors to the doctor’s chambers. Cries could be heard from several houses as the news spread like wildfire, burning everything in its wake, leaving unhealable scars.

Sobs shook you, but no one acknowledged you; each of you were overtaken by your own sorrow.

Sorrow was a lonely work after all, for everyone was destined to mourn in different manner, grieving different things… and different people. Sons, brothers, fathers. Husbands and lovers.

Lovers.

Your love. Your Steven.

A caress of a wind carrying his name ruffled your hair.

The night had just barely begun tuning into a day, the lower castle wrapped in shadows and darkness when the commotion disturbed your sleep and but upon learning the appalling reports of the army’s pitiful victory, the night seemed to cling to its reign.

Yet now, the wind made to disperse the heavy clouds which had surrounded the castle in sympathy. Sharp cold light of the sun broke through, a dawn of a new day; a beginning of an end. You let the violent intrusion of light fall on your face, eyes fluttering against the assault.

So bright… too bright in comparison to what your world had become.

Perhaps this was your punishment for praying to Lord and the old gods still at once; perhaps you displeased one or the other by not worshipping them and them alone.

Or perhaps the power of all of them together was not enough to protect your beloved Steve; perhaps the gods were just as powerless and helpless as any mere mortal like you.

Who even knew if there were gods and how mighty they were; what you did know with certainty was that they were not enough to protect Steve in life.

And so you fell to your knees, with no regard of getting in the way, clasped your hands together and prayed for Steve’s soul in death.

May the Gods protect him from ghouls and evil spirits. May the Lord grant him entry to the gardens of Eden, for his soul deserved peace and eternal love.

One day… one day you would hope to join him in afterlife; until then, you shall stay in the purgatory of living in the senseless world without him.

In the world where pointless wars slaughtered the mattes of love and tore soulmates apart.

With the last shot fired, the once lively meadow burst into quiet tears and embraced the bodies of the fallen and the winners – whom there are none for a war is not won when lives are the price to pay. And all the beautiful Marians, who received the report of our death just as night melted into day, lifted their inquiring gaze to the skies and in that moment, the sun rose.

Despite the truth settling in, despite every passing day screaming the loss the whole kingdom had suffered, your life, suddenly dull, resembled the strangest of fever dreams.

Your mind received the message of reality clearly and undeniably; yet there remained an immense rift between the thought and your heart. In your heart, you could not yet accept that Steven was no more; where your thoughts kept humming with grief, your heart awaited Steven’s return, welcoming smile and pretty words to wrap you in affection.

It was simply such an ungraspable idea, a world without him. Incomprehensible. Impossible.

And yet your mind accepted it, perhaps for Steven loving once seemed just as imaginable.

But before your heart could be ripped apart by harsh facts, you tucked them into an imaginary drawer in your head along with your grief to hide it from sight – for a mere glimpse of it hurt too much.

You busied your hands during your days and attempted to engage your mind as well; yet every night, images of horror awaited you, haunting.

Steven’s motionless body swimming in a sea of blood, vultures circling above him to swoop down in order to feed on his flesh. The tattoo of a wolf adorning his torso coming to life, climbing out of his skin only to tear away a limb to present it proudly to the pack and begin a feast with a growl.

You were waking up with tears drenching your face, screams on your lips which you profusely apologized for to your friends in the morning, earning their forgiveness and endless pity.

Steve’s absence was ever-present; while no longer amongst the living, you saw him everywhere.

You had always thought his eyes were the colour of the sky; yet these days, the skies were the colour of his eyes. The golden threads Natasha laced Princess Maria’s wedding gown with were the colour of his hair when the sun shone bright and painted a halo around his handsome face.

The apples you brought to the princess for breakfast were the colour of Steven’s kiss-swollen lips. You took a bite of the ones you carried back, untouched, but it did not taste nearly as sweet, prompting you to burst into inconsolable sobs, infecting the cooks who had lost their loved ones as well with your tears. You longed for Steven’s lips to kiss your tears away, for his tickly beard to sooth their burn on your skin.

Your only fortune, should you choose to find joy in the smallest of things, was sudden haste to marry king Howard’s children for the kingdom needed swiftly strengthen its alliances; prince Anthony was to marry princess Virginia of Pottenberg, whereas princess Maria was to be wed to prince Steven of Strangerlands.

The preparations for a royal wedding which was to take place in the castle, along with packing and readying the princess for her journey, left only little space for your grief to overwhelm you.

And since you were one of the princess’ maids, you were to prepare yourself for a journey as well.

While you might have not possessed much, there were items you laid into your pitiful excuse of a luggage with great care; you set the hand-made embroidery for a wedding dress you shall never wear, for you no longer had your groom, on the very top of your bag. You ran your fingers lovingly over the pattern of meadow flowers you had chosen to for it reminded you of your first interaction with your beloved and swallowed your tears.

Foreign lands with foreign customs would have scared you only a few days ago, yet now they were a promise of easing your pain. In the walls of the new castle, you would see the ghost of your Steven less frequently for he had never walked its halls.

Leaving, as intimidating as it might seem, would bring you relief.

The loud crash of the chamber’s door against a wall startled you, having you swiftly cover your embroidery with the nearest cloth, your head snapping to the source of the noise.

Met with the flushed face of your closest friend, you blinked in surprise at her wide-eyed gaze, swiftly drying your cheeks with the back of your hand.

“Why would you make such noise, Wanda? What is the matter?” you asked silently, clearing your throat when the swallowed tears made your voice hoarse.

“The--- the- I,” she panted, clutching at her chest as she tried to catch her breath, shaking her head wildly, causing you to feel worry instead of sorrow for the first time in days. “You are needed outside right away!”

To say such order struck you as odd would be a gross understatement.

As it was, you could not imagine a single thing you could do for the princess outside for you were certain she was having tea with her father and her brother before they would be forced to part. And if any help was needed at a request of anyone else, then surely your presence specifically was not a necessity? Wanda herself had just run up all the flights of stairs – she could have done the work in your place, could she not?

Why would she come for you instead? You possessed no special skills to make you any more desirable than Wanda – on anyone, truly.

“Me? Now? What for?”

In lieu of an answer, your friend simply gestured with her hands vaguely, the movement incomprehensible for you.

“Just take haste, for Gods’ sake!” she cried out exasperatedly, the smallest of smiles passing her lips at your gaze widening as well.

Wanda even more than yourself, was raised within the old religion – to call upon the gods felt not in character for her for she knew better.

You willed your feet to move despite how heavy they seemed for the past few days; haste would then be too strong of a word and yet, you tried.

The corridors were lined with royal colours of red and gold, the servants tasked with decoration for the royal visit and upcoming wedding dutiful as always. The preparations and anticipation had made the castle buzzing at last despite the tragedy striking barely a week ago – yet, now it seemed fresh excitement hovered in the air.

Had the party on the behalf of Pottenberg arrived without your notice? You had been so lost in your own thoughts lately it would not be too surprising should you be honest with yourself.

If that was true, you certainly did have to take haste.

Running your hands through your hair, quickly pulling it into an improvised half-braid, you hoped to look presentable enough not to be ejected by the royals. You attempted to straightened your skirt a bit as you descended the stairs, quickening your steps.

Taking a deep breath to stand tall despite feeling yourself anything but small, you stepped outside with your head held high so you could lower it in a curtsy when the situation asked for such display of submission and servitude.

Confusion had your head spin slightly instead as no horses, no carriages and no gleam of luxury which came with royalty appeared in sight.

Instead, you were met with a crowd of servants and townsmen, surrounding a group of people who looked as if they crawled out of hell itself. Dirty, bruised and bloodied, too pale to appear anything but sick and yet, tired smiles seemed to adorn---

Your heart gave out, a painful skip of a beat that made you truly dizzy.

You recognized them.

Your eyes searched every face frantically, some of them swelled with brutal bruises beyond recognition, yet you were certain these were Sir Lang and Sir Quill, then Ethan from the stables-

Oh gods.

Your palm was over your mouth, muffling the sob before you realized it erupted from your throat.

He was a horrifying sight; smudges of dirt he had clearly attempted to clean, hair on his left side stuck in a dark lump due to dried blood, as was part of his entirely unkept beard, the thick crimson seeping into once white under armour shirt where the blood trickled down his neck and shoulder.

Exhausted red-rimmed eyes, limp posture with his arm hazardously fastened to his chest by torn fabric, several shallow cuts peppering his arms, dirt cloaking the remnants of his trousers and shirt where the terrifying amount of blood – his or his enemies’ – hadn’t already stained it. Normally standing tall, his figure sagged at the moment, shoulders slumped as he barely remained on his feet.

And yet, by lord, by gods, he was the most beautiful you had ever seen him, his injured arm clinging to his chest which was rising and falling with only slight irregularity of his breaths.

He was still breathing, his heart was still beating – and yours thundered in your ribcage painfully as you choked on air and sobs.

Steven looked marvellous in his misery, because despite the weariness in features, his eyes lit up upon seeing you, his lips curling up regardless of the split--- he lived, he lived, he lived.

Your feet, having taken roots in the ground, moved of their own accord at last, carrying you to him swiftly as the soldiers hopped away, clearing your path with weary attempt at a smile. Your hands tore away from your chest and your face as you came to a halt in front of your beloved, eager to touch, aimlessly searching for a place to feel him without causing him pain.

Solving your dilemma for you, Steve was kind enough to reach out with his uninjured hand, cradling your wet cheek gently. You minded not the tremble in his fingers, covering his hand with yours, eyes fluttering shut to fully revel in the sensation you had believed you would never experience again; a sensation you had only had the fortune to savour in your dreams.

The sudden surge of panic had your eyes snap open, afraid you were still in the dreamland.

But you did not have to fear; Steve’s warm eyes observed you with endless affection still, melting into your touch as your hand found its way to his own cheek. His lips brushed your palm lovingly before he gently pulled you closer, resting his forehead against yours with a breathy hiss of pain.

It was the display of agony he must have been in with every breath and the smallest of movements which finally untied your tongue, a waterfall of words falling from your lips.

“Steve---Steven, Steve, my love, what—how-“

Your fingers slipped to his nape, his pulse racing under your palm, the most precious thing you ever felt, only causing him to lean closer, nose brushing yours in a tender act of affection bringing fresh tears to your eyes.

Thump-thump-thump went his heart, a chant of love and life.

He was alive. Your beloved was alive.

“Druids. Luck. Divine intervention. I do not know, but it matters not. I am here,” he whispered, voice no less firm than within a battle cry.

I am here.

A promise. A declaration of love.

You found yourself yet again at loss for words, another sob escaping you instead. There were no words you were familiar with to do justice to your joy at this reunion. After countless of days, endless days of grief, he was standing there, holding your face in his hand and your whole heart as well.

Steve was alive.

“I made you a promise,” he continued in husky voice, “I told you I’d call upon your hand. It was all I could think of in the face of… of what I thought was the end.”

You squeezed his hand as to stop him, for it mattered not, not at this very moment, not ever, you would give him anything, everything, regardless of whether you were courting, married, or sneaking around and being the subjects of slander at the lower castle and the court alike.

As long as you should keep him, as long as he kept breathing, it mattered not if you could chant his name as you were now; falling from your lips like a prayer to whatever ancient force that brought him back to you.

And yet, you should have known better. Your Steven was a force of nature himself, stubborn and determined and proper. Time waited for no man and Steve could no longer wait for when fate would try to separate you again. He had to act in this very moment.

“Will you marry me, my sweet?”

You laughed, the joyful sound absurd in the circumstance; but your heart could burst as the reality of Steve holding you and asking you to marry him sank in at last, feeling as if the sun itself settled in your chest.

What choice did you have? What else could you possibly say when the gods were so merciful to give you a chance at bliss of spending your life side by side with a man you loved?

“Yes. Yes, I will.”

Cheers erupted around you, words of how sappy your future husband was, yet you could not care less, whatever the meaning the word possessed.

You had your Steven back; you had your heart sown together at once, waterfalls of grief turning into tears of undiluted happiness. Long path lied in front of you and it was not to be an easy one; Steven proposed, yes – in shaggy clothes, bloodied and dirty and with no ring to give you.

His proposal was far from flawless indeed; however, it was a promise. Not a promise of perfection, but a promise nevertheless. A promise of a beautiful life, for it would be with him.

And as you had learned upon daring to doubt him… your knight would always keep his promises to you. For that, he was a man far more noble than those who were born with nobility in their blood.

And he was yours. Always and to the end of the days – yours.

As much as you always would be his.

Do not weep for me, my beautiful Marian, when the tower bell rings to honour soldiers, proud, My heart is silent, but in you there shall remain all the words that flare up like fire.

S.R. masterlist

Sequel - In the Name of All That’s Holy

Thank you for reading 💗 Feedback to this 13k beast is appreciated!

As you can see/hear, the song does NOT have a happy ending, but I just couldn’t… 😭 I couldn’t break her heart like that (AND MINE). Also, I was sent a cute knife along with a message as not to hurt knight Steve (yes, my beloved, I’m looking at YOU) 🤭

If you felt a bit of himbo energy from the knights in the beginning, know that Merlin is to blame. As he is for “dollop heads”.

(I never found whether the choice of a name ‘Marion’ has any particular meaning. I’ve always imagined her as a loyal woman in love, waiting for her kingdom’s hero to come home – I translated as Marian, for the resemblance with Lady/Maid Marian tied to Robin Hood legends. Up to interpretation.)

#fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #captain america x reader #steve rogers #captain america #knight steve rogers #captan america x you #medieval au #fantasy au #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers angst #in the name of the king #anika ann

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