#pseudo princess pt17

[shreddedparchment]

Pseudo Princess Pt.17

Forgiven Misunderstandings

11/23/2019

Pairing: King!Steve x Reader          Word Count: 7,054

Warnings: Language, smidge of angst, lots of fluff, like...tons, lots of links (sorry not sorry)

A/N: This was fun to write. And it came out pretty close to how I’d haad it planned. Hope you like it! Have a favorite part? Let me know! I love reading your thoughts and comments. As always, if you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work. May not have another update until after Thanksgiving. xoxo

TAGS ARE CLOSED FOR THIS STORY!

It feels a little unfair to you that your husband should be so beautiful. Especially when you feel as if you can’t compare.

There is so much about him that you love, and also a lot you still don’t understand.

Any King comes with their fair share of worries and obligations but somehow, as you watch his Majesty sleep beside you, his brow puckered as he dreams restlessly, you get a sense that for him there is more than the usual.

It’s like a picture that isn’t fully painted yet. He’s unfinished in your eyes.

You can’t wait to get down to the bottom of this gorgeous man.

Pain in the ass that he might be, he’s your pain in the ass. Forever.

Reaching up, you press your fingertip to his forehead and smooth out the wrinkle between his brow. It only puckers more.

Maybe your lips?

You shift upwards or try to, but his Majesty’s arms close around you more tightly. Pulling you closer against his chest.

Your heart flutters.

Still you manage to stretch up enough to press a soft kiss between his eyes—not quite at the offending spot but close enough—and you feel him relax around you.

He puddles into the mattress and his arms go a little slack. When you pull back to check, you find his brow smooth, mouth slightly open again. He looks just as peaceful as he had when you’d drifted off to sleep yourself. Unburdened, however short lived it might be.

For some reason, you feel as if his Majesty is often burdened with things you don’t quite understand yet. At least one burden…Margaret…appears to be lessening. Are you helping? Truly?

You watch him. Stare. Love him more with each second that passes and the prickly whiskers over his lip shift slightly as he breathes in slowly and back out.

There’s a small knock on your door, starling you from the peace you’ve found, and you hurry up from the bed. You draw your robe tighter and glance back at your sleeping King as you pull the door open a crack.

“Yes?” You whisper, afraid to speak loudly in case you wake him up.

“Why are you whispering?” It’s Nat, her large green eyes trying to peek in.

Stepping back, you let her in.

“His Majesty is sleeping.” You explain, looking at him again. “He was so tired.”

“He hasn’t slept in nearly two days.” She shakes her head. “How did you get him to sleep? James has been trying all day.”

You bite your lip, nervous but it’s only an after effect. You’re all joy and excitement.

“What?” Nat demands quietly, noticing the sparkle in your eyes.

“I told him.” You confess, looking back at him again.

He shifts on the bed, laying on his back before turning onto his left side to face your wall and vanity. One of his arms falls over the edge, his long legs sprawled out wide to take up a majority of the foot of the bed.

He’s used to sleeping alone.

“Told him?” Nat asks, confused.

Her eyes widen as she realizes what you must mean.

“What did he say?” She asks excitedly, reaching for your hand.

Taking hers, you give it a squeeze.

“He’s so happy.” You smile. “And afraid.”

Your smile falters.

“Because of the attack?” Nat wonders, knowing.

You nod. “He thinks the baby might be in danger.”

“Both of you are. You and the child. We’ll keep you safe, Y/N. I’m certain now that he knows, Steve will be watching you like a hawk.” She nods, assuring you of your safety.

“I know.” You sigh. “But I don’t want him to worry.”

“That’s not possible, love.” She reaches up to caress your hair, letting her hand rest on your shoulder. “He loves you. And now you’re carrying his heir? Steve might not let you out of his sight ever again. You’re all that matters now.”

“I shouldn’t be all that matters. I know he’s got other things to occupy his attention. I don’t-”

“Y/N,” Nat begins, slightly chastising. “This is what you’ve been wanting.”

“I didn’t want him to only focus on me. I just wanted him to let me help. To let me show him how much I love him. I wanted to be included and accepted.” You sigh, reaching down to place your hand on your stomach. “I don’t want to be a distraction.”

Nat chuckles lightly. “It’s too late for that, my Queen. You’ve been a distraction since the moment you said, ‘I do.’ But don’t worry. Now you’re welcome one.”

Both of you look to him and he sleeps on, face hidden from sight by his wide shoulders.

“It’s almost time to dress.” Nat informs you.

“I don’t want to wake him.” You protest, looking back at her.

“Another hour, but then we must get you dressed. It’s acceptable for the King and Queen to be a little late to their own feast, but not absent.” Nat insists.

“Another hour is fine. I just want him to rest.” You explain.

Nat nods. “I’ll get your dress sent up and have Peter hold it out for you until Steve leaves.”

“Thank you, Nat.” She nods and turns to leave but you catch her arm and pull her back gently. “Did he ask you again?”

Nat smiles a little more widely. “James asks me to marry him every time he gets me alone.”

“And you said yes this time, right?” Raising your eyebrows, you wait for her to respond but the way she’s chewing her luscious red bottom lip, you feel like maybe she’s told him no again.

“I didn’t refuse him.” She counters. “I’ll say yes eventually.”

“Nat, why won’t you say yes?” You wonder, worried now that James may one day get tired of asking but you also don’t find that likely.

Her smile falters and she moves closer to you, caressing your hair again. “Now that you and Steve have reconciled there will be a time when your opinion of me might change. There won’t be secrets between us for much longer, I don’t think.”

“Secrets? You’re keeping secrets from me?” You gasp almost offended.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. I’m sure now that he’s willing to try that he’ll tell you everything by and by.” Nat assures you, but she still looks a little sad.

“What will he tell me? Why are you two keeping things from me? And what does it have to do with you marrying James?” You demand.

“James is a good man. He deserves someone just as good.” She says, before you can ask her to elaborate, she moves to the doors. “I’ll be back. Enjoy your time alone.”

With one final melancholy smile, she leaves you stewing in wonder.

Worried, upset, a little angry, and full of irritation because of these secrets that all of a sudden, you’re aware of, you move around to his Majesty’s side of the bed and stand there, staring down at him as he continues to sleep.

Steadily your breathing gets deeper, rage that you’ve become so good at hiding bubbling up.

“Your Majesty?” You say, stern, hard, or as hard as you can make your voice when looking at him while he’s as gorgeous as a sleeping angel.

He doesn’t respond.

“Your Majesty?” You say a bit louder.

His arm shoots out towards you and wraps around your hips. You gasp as he pulls you towards him, burying his face into your stomach as he breathes in deeply. His hand traces the shape of your lower back, moving down to rest against your bottom as he nuzzles your barely covered skin.

“Why are you angry with me?” He asks, his voice soft and soothing.

He’s never spoken to you in that tone before, all gruff and deep from sleep.

He kisses your tummy and your breath catches in your throat. Damn him. This is cheating.

He kisses it over and over, moving up towards your breasts, then falls back onto the bed, his left arm brought up to wrap around your waist as he lays on his back and looks up at you.

“Did I make another mistake?” He’s surprisingly worried, brow furrowed, blue eyes deep and swirling.

You swallow hard, trying to recover the anger you’d been feeling only a moment ago. “I-”

“I’ll fix it.” He promises. “Please don’t be angry with me.”

You huff a breath. Resigned, you sit down on the edge, and he takes the opportunity to wrap his left arm around your waist more securely.

“I’m not angry with you.” You allow, placing your hand on his chest tentatively, the motion unfamiliar.

He quickly brings his right hand up to rest over it, taking hold of your fingers and giving them a gentle squeeze.

“Is it time for the feast?” He wonders, deep voice slightly clearer but still heavy with exhaustion.

“We don’t have to have it.” You try once more. “We can cancel it and have it another time when you’re more rested.”

He smiles slowly, shutting his eyes as the wry amusement curves half of his lip up. It’s all hidden by that bristly beard. Your free hand wanders up to trace the shape of it. You couldn’t help it. You’ve wanted to touch him for so long…

That makes him open his eyes and in awe he watches you, slow-blinking and smitten.

“Why are you worried about me?” He asks, that trace of amusement still in his expression. “I don’t need much sleep, my flower. I’m okay.”

“You don’t look okay.” You fight.

“But I am. You don’t have to worry for me.” He insists.

“I love you.” You shake your head. “Worrying about you is unavoidable.”

Your body is yanked sideways, legs laid over his Majesty’s as he twists himself so that he’s hovering beside you as you fall onto the bed with a small bounce and a squeak.

“You just said that you love me.” He points out, licking his lips.

You stare at them, stunned and breathless by the threat of his body pressing so close.

“Do you mean it?” He asks.

“Yes.” You whisper. “I love you.”

He leans down and rubs his whiskers against your lips, a pleasant scratch tickling you senseless.

“Do you? Truly?” He whispers.

You nod.

“Tell me again.” He pleads, a real note of desperation in his voice.

“I-I love you.” You offer, wondering why it suddenly seems to matter when it didn’t before.

He breathes into your slightly parted mouth, filling you up with his relief.

“I will earn it.” He promises. “Will you let me try?”

You nod, so far gone, he could have asked to murder you and you would have accepted.

“I love you, my sweet, tempting flower.” He sighs, then leans in and presses those hot wet lips against your own.

His beard scratches you up, your hands wind up around his shoulders and you pull him in for more.

His Majesty kisses you until he’s breathless and then lays his head on your chest, shuts his eyes, and sleeps a while more.

~~~~~~~~~~

The music is loud. The din is deafening. There are people laughing and shouting and talking animatedly in every corner of the Great Hall. This particular hall is larger than the smaller hall that your first wedding feast had been held in.

It makes you a little sad and bitter that his Majesty had hidden you the way he did in the beginning. No one had been invited to the ceremony other than those that were necessary. And your wedding feast had been a lively affair for everyone but you and your new husband.

The noises of the party echo out to you in the hallway and it sounds as if half the castle town will be there.

“I forgot my fan.”

“Peter?” Nat turns to him and he springs into action.

“Fan, coming right up!” He turns and races back the way you’d come.

“Nat, how many people are out there?” You wonder, worried. “And this dress, shouldn’t I have worn something red or blue? His Majesty loves red and blue.”

“You should call him by his name, Y/N. I know that you’ve been reluctant to-”

“I’ll call him by his name when I’m ready.” You bristle, in a rare display of annoyance, you turn your frown back to the large and heavy wooden doors, shut, ornately decorated in a weave of golden vines with silver leaves.

There’s a symbol in the very center like the one on your necklace, split in half by the crease where the doors open. The circles and the star at the center. His Majesty’s sigil.

You reach up to fiddle with your own.

“I’m sorry.” Nat says.

“I told you why I don’t and you still-” You continue, irate like you’ve never been before.

“I know.” She says, cutting you off but gently, reassuringly. She wants you to know that she cares. “I’m sorry.”

She sighs.

“He shouldn’t have been so cruel.” Nat sounds angry now and it puts you on the defensive.

Lately, you’ve wondered how many of those closest to you think you’re foolish to stick by his side. To stay with his Majesty despite the way he’s treated you.

“I’m sure he couldn’t help it.” You say, wondering if you’re right. “I just…I need time.”

Nat goes silent as do you, both of you listening to the change of song to something more akin to a waltz though you’ve never danced one yourself. Most of the dances you know are country dances. Nat’s been teaching you but you’re still nervous.

The new dance changes the noise on the other side of the doors, making it more excited if that were possible. The waltz is the newest craze and the people cannot seem to get enough of it.

“What if I mess up?” You chew your lip.

“You won’t. And if you do, you’re Queen, Y/N. Just…fuck the rest and act like you meant to do it.” Nat offers.

“Nat!” You gasp, half laughing.

“You look beautiful. Every woman in there will be wearing red or blue because they know that those are the King’s colors. You deserve to stand out. What does he call you?” She asks, reaching out to touch the folds upon folds of flowing voile and silk.

Soft green, like an underground garden under the cover of a stormy morning. Around your waist the bit of red, crimson blood, and embroidered into the sides of your bodice and along the puffs of your sheer elbow length sleeves are peonies in pale dusty pink, surrounded by small buds of baby’s breath.

The florals extend down onto your skirt in uneven patches as if the blooms have really begun to grow upon it.

You smile, reaching down to touch a small peony just above your thigh crease. “His flower.”

“And you are.” Nat gushes. “You’re going to outshine every woman in that room. Maybe you…your beginnings were not like previous queens of this kingdom, but you exude the regality of one. You were made to stand out, your Majesty.

“James told me that Steve sees you as his true partner. The woman that was meant to rule at his side.”

“But Margaret-?” You begin, confused.

“Was his first love. She was strong and willful, and she loved him very much, but her priority was never Steve and it was never the Kingdom. She wanted to be everything for him, but she couldn’t. You are right where you were always meant to be. This Kingdom and its people will be better for having you as Queen. Do you trust me?”

“With my life, Nat.” You assure her, eyes misty from her bolstering.

“Then believe me, you are the right choice. You are the only one. You are Queen.” She reaches out to straighten your skirt and then with a gentle hand pushes your shoulders back. “Now stand up straight and take your place by your husband’s side.”

A flurry of footsteps echo from behind her as you stare and take in her pride. You internalize it as Peter stops beside her and holds out your fan.

“Here you go, your Majesty.” He smiles at you, reading your mood shift quickly as you reach out and take the crimson fan, same shade as the ribbon around your waist.

You take it, look at your guard, and he nods at you once swiftly. He’s also telling you that you’re good. You’re great. You deserve to be here.

“Whenever you’re ready, my Queen.” Peter moves to stand beside you.

Chin lifted, eyes peeled away from your lady, you step towards the doors.

Peter rushes towards them and bangs his fist hard against the wood.

There’s a loud shifting and groan as the doors are pushed open. Two of the guard step aside to let you in.

The music fades, a jumble of string notes and melodic recorder tumbling into quiet as you cross into the massive Great Hall.

Everyone’s eyes are on you as dancers stop and those eating set aside their forks and knives to rise and look at you. Their Queen.

Peter walks behind you, chest puffed out in honor as he accompanies you while Nat makes sure that your dress is just right as you move towards the far end of the room where a long table with two large throne-like seats sit empty before plates laden with morsels.

Your stomach clenches hungrily but you ignore it as your people bow when you pass.

They eye you up. Devour your visage. Truly, you’re a flower among a sea of rubies and sapphires in shades from sky and strawberries to deepest ocean and thickest blood. The silver crown that sits on your head, laden with stunning white diamonds dazzles underneath the bright and warm glow of hundreds…maybe thousands of candles and a roaring fire in the largest fireplace you’ve ever seen in your life against the wall to your right.

“Your Majesty.” People say as you pass, some admiring, others more calculating.

Though you don’t search for her, she’s the first person that you really see in the mass of elegant gowns and suits.

She’s standing near the head table where you and his Majesty are supposed to sit. Leaning towards him, her hand on his forearm as she smiles sweetly. Her blonde hair is left to flow in soft waves, falling along her bare shoulders.

Her red dress, as red as an apple ripe enough to bite, falls in shining satin petals around her perfect and lithe figure.

For a moment, your confidence wavers. She looks every bit the royal Queen that his Majesty deserves. Like in the garden, she’s already playing the part. She looks it. She sounds it. She is it.

Sharon Carter. Who can’t seem to stop touching your husband!

Beside her, he sees the a few people nearby rise and then bow. This draws his eyes up to you as you make your way towards him and the flame in his eyes rages as his mouth falls at the sight of you.

He swallows hard, his lips curl into a smile and you forget the woman in red beside him.

He’s deadly handsome in elegant black trousers and a matte silver tunic, careful white lines of stitching laid out in patterns of damask. The only splash of color, almost as if you both planned it, is the crimson belt around his waist, a bit deeper in tone but it matches yours perfectly.

You walk a little faster, now that you see him, and he turns away from Sharon to offer you his hand as you reach him. He looks so happy. So pleased. Besotted.

Disappointment is what you feel when he only lifts your hand to his lips to kiss your fingers. It’s hot around yours and pleasant.

“My Queen.” He says.

Why doesn’t he kiss you like he did in your room?

“My flower.” He gushes.

“Your Majesty.” You smile at him, pushing aside your disappointment for now.

He pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around your waist as he lifts you up onto your toes and dips his head down to kiss you making your stomach tumble.

You shut your eyes, relishing in his kiss which ends too quickly and holds only a fraction of the passion that he gave you this afternoon.

“You look beautiful.” He swears, then offers you his elbow. “Come, you must be starving.”

You take his arm and allow him to lead you around to the other side of the table. Peter pulls out your chair and you sit. His Majesty moves to stand in front of his own chair which is nice and close to your own.

Holding out his arms, he gestures at the musicians who begin to play their music again, a little quieter than before but just as enthusiastically. “Please, eat. Dance. Enjoy the feast. This celebration of my wife and her good health.”

He reaches down to grab his silver goblet and holds it up towards the room full of bodies all standing and staring at you.

They raise their glasses and goblets too.

“To Queen Y/N, may she reign long at my side.” His Majesty toasts.

“To Queen Y/N!” The people answer, and they drink.

The next four hours pass in a blur.

The dancing is nonstop, and people seem eager to move on to the next when one finishes. The food is also endless and keeps coming even after you’ve had your fill.

“Don’t worry, we will distribute it out as you’d been doing.” His Majesty assures you, pulling your hand up to his lips to kiss softly, when he spots you eyeing the copious amounts of food still untouched and uneaten.

There’s a small scuffle on the other side of the room that is broken up quickly, but otherwise the night passes in frivolity, excess, and joy. Most of all joy. Oh…and scrutiny.

Everyone is watching you. Everyone is watching his Majesty.

Not once does he leave your side though he talks to many people. He eventually slides his chair over a little to place his arm around your shoulders so that he might always be touching you while he speaks to his people and then to you.

While he does his duty, you keep your eyes on the people and find them watching the way his Majesty is with you. They’re confused but not suspicious.

It’s nearly midnight when Nat finds you again having been dancing and eating with James all night.

Although she’s checked on you frequently, she doesn’t stay.

“It’s important for the people to see you and Steve together alone. No one between the two of you.”

Now she looks flushed, from dancing, not drink.

“Are you alright?” She asks, taking the seat to your left. “Feeling okay?”

“I’m good.” You assure her, looking around for Bucky. “Where’s Bucky?”

Nat smiles. “He’s asking the lute player for a favor.”

She gets up and moves around you to his Majesty’s other side and nestles in between him and Samuel who’d been giving him the rundown on some task he’d been sent to perform.

“It’s time.” You can hear Nat tell his Majesty.

He turns to you and chaffs your left shoulder. “How’s your stomach?”

“I’m fine.” You promise him. “I’m all fed.”

He places his hand on your stomach then smiles. “Do you think you might have the energy to dance with me?”

It almost feels as if you’ve missed a step. Your stomach bottoms out and your hands are suddenly numb.

“What will we dance?” You squeak.

“Come on.” He chuckles and helps you to your feet.

Everyone stops what they’re doing to look and as he leads you around and to the center of the square where everyone has been dancing, they part for the two of you and make room.

His Majesty sweeps you out and you’re so startled you gasp, but he brings you back in with a twirl and you come to a soft crashing halt against his wide chest.

Chuckling at the expression on your face, he gives your back a rub.

“Relax. I’ve got you, my sweet flower.” He prides and you relax just a tad.

Only enough so that when the music begins to flow, he steers you with ease.

“See.” He says as he twirls you, stepping lightly as he moves you around. You’re not even sure your feet are touching the ground with how easily the two of you glide along the stone floor. “Nice and slow.”

Relaxing a bit more, you smile and give one small chuckle.

He laughs too. “There you go.”

The song is indeed slow enough that you can keep up. Although the waltz is new to you, with his Majesty as your partner, you move along with him almost skillfully. The song is sweet. Enchanting. Almost magical and you find yourself humming along with the melody after a few more turns.

Your skirt flows around you like water, swishing around your legs and around his Majesty’s ankles.

As the song begins to end, slowing down a bit more, his Majesty wraps his arm all the way around your waist and lifts you up, spinning with you. You laugh and he laughs, your arms wrap around his neck.

The lute finishes its melody and the recorder’s last note echoes around the large space as he slowly puts you back down.

“Nothing to be scared of.” He whispers to you, leaning down to press his lips softly over yours. “Right?”

You’re all smiles, cheeks aching as you stare up into his storm blue eyes. You nod.

“Nothing.” You repeat.

His Majesty smiles and kisses you, this time, his passion is clear.

He leaves you breathless as his people applaud your dance.

When he pulls away, he’s already speaking.

“I have no doubt that many of you have speculated about my reluctance to accept my new Queen as my wife.”

His words are jarring, and you’re shocked into focus as everyone’s claps die and they become very attentive to his Majesty’s words.

“You would be right. I was torn by duty and grief.” He continues. “As many of you know, Margaret Carter was the first woman I loved. She was the wife I chose. And she was friends with many of you.”

He looks pointedly at a few people in the room. Some you recognize and some you don’t.

“Her loss left me broken and I didn’t think I’d ever recover. And although I know that she can never be replaced, her friendship was something that extended longer than our romance, I’m happy to say that with Queen Y/N’s persistence, I was finally able to lower my guard.

“I’m ashamed to admit it took me longer than it should have.” He nods, turning to look at you as you stare at him with watering eyes as his speech cuts at your previously flying heart.

Margaret again?

He sees the pain there and reaches up to caress the side of your face.

“It took nearly losing her—as many of you know, the Queen was recently very ill—for me to realize how much she’d already found her way into this old king’s frozen heart.” He sigh, nodding as he turns to face you. “I wasn’t hospitable. I wasn’t kind. I was cruel in many ways.”

His admittance, while the truth, puts many of the nobles watching on edge. They hadn’t expected to get such an inside look at your marriage tonight, and if you’re honest, you didn’t expect all of your dirty laundry to be aired out for them either.

Bringing up Margaret again? Telling everyone all this? Your chest is suddenly very hot.

“When my Queen woke, she was very angry with me for my neglect. And rightfully so.” He nods. “She had every right to be angry.”

You shift uncomfortably, staring daggers at him.

“Somehow, by some miracle, she forgave me.” He declares, then licks his lips nervously. “Something I hope she might do again, seeing as she’s angry with me once more for saying all of this out loud, no doubt.”

A few of the people laugh. Some of them lean around to get a look at you and you try to relax the rage in your face.

His Majesty wraps his arm around you again, pulling you against his side as he turns to look out at his people with you.

“In case anyone wonders, in case rumors begin to fly, in case you doubt it, let me assure you that this woman by my side is the Queen this Kingdom deserves. Broklin has never had a Queen with this much compassion. Has never had a Queen with this much devotion or pride in its people, despite class or wealth. Everyone is equal in my Queen’s eyes and that is what my people—our people—deserve.

“This woman by my side, staring at me with these angry eyes, is the woman I love.” He declares, more laughter follows. “Not because it is my duty to love her, but because no woman has ever made me look in at myself. No one has ever challenge me to be better. No one has shown such resilience and strength and kindness having to deal with me and my moods.”

More laughter.

“I don’t know how you put up with me.” He says, turning to look at you only. “You’re the light of my life, sweet flower. The love of my life. I’m sorry it took me so long to see it.”

You’re not sure whether to be overjoyed or upset. Your heart squeezes and aches, but your stomach is all aflutter.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, just quiet enough for you to hear.

You consider him for a moment, gauging the sincerity in his eyes and it’s true. Everything he just said. Just as it has been every time, he’s said it since the moment you came back.

You nod, and he practically knocks you over with the force of his kiss.

The people clap.

He pulls away, smiling like a fool.

“Oh,” He says. “And we’re expecting our first child. The heir to Broklin.”

The fire of passion in your belly is iced out with his words as the people cheer, the rage once more fills your gaze.

~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m sorry!” His Majesty calls, chasing after you as you storm your way down the hall towards your room. “I didn’t think you would mind.”

“Why didn’t you ask me?!” You rage. “You could have at least warned me!”

“They needed to know eventually.” He argues.

“But why now? I just told you today. Today!” You stop in front of your door, and you can see Nat and Peter lingering at the far end of the hall, peeking over at the two of you but keeping their distance so as not to disturb.

“I know. I’m just so happy.” He reasons. “I’m excited.”

“To have your kingdom secured?” You accuse, hurt and suspicious.

“What?! No! Y/N, no. I mean, yes of course I’m happy that the Kingdom will remain in my care, but that’s not why I’m happy. I’m happy because you’re having my child. You will be the mother of my babe. I love you. I want the world to know that we are family. That we will be parents to beautiful and kind children because how could they be anything but with such a mother?”

You turn away from him, storming into the first small foyer of your room and then into your bedroom itself.

“Well, they still have their father’s nature to contend with.” You spit, uncharacteristically bitter.

“Truly,” He says, following you until you stop by the seats in front of your fire. “I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you.”

You shake your head, teetering back to outrage the more you think of it. “You told them everything.”

Well…almost everything. The details were void but the sentiments were real. The neglect, the cruelty, the agony you’d been in.

“I just wanted…the baby was just mine. For a little bit it was mine. You took that from me. Why couldn’t we have just kept that between us?” You beg, turning to look at him.

You see the confusion cross his face. “Nothing is between us, Y/N. It will never be just us. You’re Queen of this kingdom. I’m King. The people deserve to know that their futures are secure. With our child, that’s what I can give them.”

And you understand that. You know that he’s right and you’d known that even before tonight. And yet…

“But-”

“Sometimes I think you forget what you agreed too.” He mutters, a little miffed now too. “You agreed to be my wife. You agreed to a life as Queen. This is what it is. No privacy. They will always know what happens between us. They may never truly know the details, but they will know enough.”

“I know that.” You grit through your teeth.

“This isn’t your village where you can retreat to your hut and-”

“What?” You ask, your words sharp and striking.

Your blood boils.

He meets your eyes and seems to realize what he’s just said. “No, that’s not-”

“I know that I’m no longer in my hut.” You spit. “Forgive me for wanting to spend a few days sharing in my joy with my husband that we have finally, after six months of trying to produce an heir, succeeded.”

He stares at you, taking in the anger in your face while he also fumes at your apparent regret at accepting your role at his side as Queen.

“I think maybe we both need some rest.” His majesty says.

“Yes, I think you’re right.” You agree.

“Alone.” He says.

“Alone.” You say at the same time.

You stare at each other, both aching.

“Good night.” He says, then turns and leaves you standing there, feeling unprepared and alone.

~~~~~~~~~~

You toss and turn. Uncomfortable in your bed after having shared it with his Majesty all afternoon.

The fight also doesn’t help to ease your mind. Yours was an overreaction. You know that. You’re not wrong about being angry because he didn’t tell you before he decided to share it all with your guests.

There should have been a discussion and you hate that there wasn’t. He was wrong in that sense.

But the news would have had to come out eventually. You’re also pretty sure that the reason he spilled it all is because he was genuinely happy to be with you at that feast, dancing and laughing.

This night had been perfect until that moment.

You turn onto your back, sighing heavily as you give up and accept that you may just never sleep tonight.

It had been a perfect night…and maybe it still might be?

You rise, pulling your robe over your nightdress and move past the night guard who has fallen asleep—you’ll have to tell Peter later though you also might not. Don’t want to get this guard in trouble.

The soft slap of your feet against the cold stone floor prompts you up onto your toes as you sneak all the way down the hallway to his Majesty’s bedroom door.

You consider knocking, wondering if he’s just as awake as you are, thinking and stressing about your fight but decide that you don’t want to wake him.

If he isn’t tossing and turning, and if he’s managed to find some sleep and peace in all this, you’d rather not disturb him.

If he’s up, then you can talk to him.

Inside his foyer there is no guard but that’s not surprising. Other than Samuel and Bucky, he doesn’t seem to travel with a guard at all.

You can hear the crackle of fire from the other side.

Will he be angry that you’ve come to call on him in his room? You’ve never been in here.

Your mind races, remembering his reaction when you intruded in his office and fear makes you take a step back.

But he’s your husband. And surely, if he’s meant every word that he’s said about proving his love to you, that means that you’re welcome here, right?

You gather your courage and push the left door open.

The room is glowing with only firelight. Almost the entire floor is covered in a tan, brown, and faded blue rug. It extends underneath the very large wooden bed, elegantly carved and embellished with golden designs. The headboard is stunning, elegant, and tall. The sheets and every other cushioned surface is covered in red satin fabric, silk for the bed, in the same deep red. Plush pillows covered in pearl cream covers.

Even in the dim light, you can make out his Majesty’s form. He’s laying mostly on the left side of the bed, almost sitting up, shirtless—his entire perfect sculpt on display for you to see—and in the small space between his left arm and the bed, nestled into his side is a lithe female form with cascading blonde waves dressed in a barely there nightdress, robe thrown on the floor.

Your eyes devour the sight, noting the hiked-up skirt of her gown so that you see the taut muscles of her thighs, and the way that his Majesty’s arm is secure around her shoulders.

She’s got her stupid cheek pressed against his stupid chest, and her stupid arm is wrapped around his stupid waist.

The door creaks loudly as it swings open fully, prompting his Majesty’s eyes to open slowly.

For a second, it’s like he doesn’t see you or maybe he just doesn’t realize you’re real? Because he blinks and nearly closes his eyes again to sleep more.

You scoff and his eyes shoot open.

Turning, you leave the room, heart in your throat, stomach twisted into knots. You might throw up.

“Y/N!” His voice cries out behind you.

Sharon wakes—or it sounds like she does—and then she speaks. “What’s going on?”

“Move.” You hear him say, “Wait!”

Then he’s there, faster than you thought he could ever be, grabbing your wrist and turning you to face him.

You pull your hand from his grip, or try, but he holds tight.

“Let me go.” You plead, suddenly realizing that you’re crying.

“No, wait, please. That was not what it looked like.”

“It looked like you went to bed with someone else, that isn’t me, and not alone.” Idiot! Stupid man. You hate him!

“If you’ll let me explain?” He pleads, pulling you closer by force and making to wrap his arms around you.

“Stop!” You shout, loud enough that the snoring guard outside your room is startled awake. He races to the doorway but then sees you with his Majesty and he slinks back out of sight.

His Majesty drops your wrist, doing as you wish. Stopping.

The heartbreak in his eyes is real. That you can see. He’s almost vibrating with the need to speak, and the disappointed slump of his shoulders is almost too much.

“Explain.” You sob, just once, and he reaches out to comfort you, but you take a step back. “And don’t lie to me. Please, don’t lie to me.”

“I will never lie to you.” He swears. “Sharon came into my bedroom without my permission.”

If you had the ability to make someone’s brain burst, Sharon would be first on your list.

“She thought I was pretending with you at the feast tonight. I set her straight.” He says, as if you’re expected to understand.

“Explain.” You repeat, sniffling.

Steve moves closer and you step further away.

“She thought that I was only pretending to love you. Out of my sense of duty for the kingdom. She thought we were lying about the baby. She offered to marry me.” He says, and seriously, where is that stupid blonde? “When I told her that I truly do love you, that you are mother of my future heir and the only woman I want to be with…”

He runs his hand through his hair and shakes his head, looking down at your fare feet.

“You’ll catch cold.” He fusses but doesn’t make to move closer to you.

“Explain.” You repeat weakly one final time, you won’t give him another chance.

He meets your eyes and shrugs. “You won’t want to hear it.”

You say nothing. He sighs.

“I was not the only one unable to process their grief for Margaret. They were like sisters and losing Maggie has been hard for her. After I convinced her that I really do love you, she cried for a long time. So did I.” He admits. “I haven’t seen Sharon often since Maggie passed and having her here makes the pain a bit sharper. I’m not sure when we fell asleep, but nothing happened. I swear to you.”

You consider his words, weighing them against what you saw.

“D-Did she try and seduce you?” You check, the hiked-up nightdress, the way she was dressed in general all point to yes.

“Yes.” He admits.

“It didn’t work?” You wonder. “It didn’t-You didn’t-?”

“No!” He promises. “I swear to you, Y/N. Only you can do that to me.”

Well, he’s not lying about Sharon at least.

Rage flares in our chest.

“I haven’t even been in your bed yet.” You nearly growl, finding your way past the sorrow at what you’d thought you’d walked in on to the anger left at the thought of this woman disrespecting your marriage so blatantly.

“I know.” His Majesty nods. “I’m sorry. I should have sent her away immediately.”

Silence prevails as you let his words sink in and you let your mood settle. You’re still pretty bitter, but you’re not all bite and fire anymore. Two minutes pass of him shifting from foot to foot, watching you intently.

“I’m going back to bed.” You turn to move towards your room but stop when you don’t hear him move. “Aren’t you coming?”

It’s like he was untied and left to move freely. He races forward before you’ve even finished talking and he picks you up off the ground.

“You’ll catch cold.” He explains and you wrap your arms around his shoulders.