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Meghan seems to be living her best life as a fictional, boho-style princess and wannabe lifestyle guru...🙄
Meghan Markle's Netflix special "With Love, Meghan: Holiday Celebration" premieres Dec. 3, days before Kate Middleton's Christmas carol serv
I just wrote this for the princess pseudo story for my satisfaction with how they have another kid and with how their wedding went in the beginning, the reader wants to have another vow renewal ceremony with Steve...and this time for love...so when they both along with their 3 kids travel for a vacation for their anniversary, she sly asks him...
As the sun rose over the horizon, casting golden light on the beach where their vacation home stood, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a flutter of excitement in her chest. Today was not just another day; it was their anniversary. She glanced around at her three children, happily building sandcastles, their laughter mingling with the sound of waves crashing against the shore.
Steve joined her, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her close. “Looks like our little ones are having the time of their lives,” he said, watching the kids with a fond smile.
Y/N nodded, her heart swelling with affection. “It’s perfect here, isn’t it? Just the five of us.”
A comfortable silence fell between them, but Y/N felt a different kind of weight on her heart. They had come so far since their arranged marriage, a union that had begun with tension and reluctance. Now, the bond they shared was stronger than she had ever imagined. But a part of her still longed for something more.
“Steve,” she began, hesitating as she gathered her thoughts. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course,” he replied, looking down at her with those warm blue eyes that made her feel safe.
She took a deep breath, feeling shy but determined. “Do you think we could… renew our vows? Just us and the kids? I’ve always wanted a wedding that felt like it was built on love.”
He turned to face her fully, surprise dancing in his eyes. “You want to get married again?”
“Yes,” she admitted, a blush creeping onto her cheeks. “I know our wedding was arranged, and it started off a bit bitter, but I want to celebrate how far we’ve come. I want our kids to see us commit to each other in a way that reflects what we’ve built together.”
Steve’s expression softened, and his heart swelled at her words. “I’d love that,” he said earnestly. “You have no idea how much I cherish you and our family. I would do anything to show you how much I’ve come to love you.”
Y/N felt tears prick her eyes, a mixture of joy and relief washing over her. “Really? You’d be okay with that?”
“Absolutely,” he replied, taking her hands in his. “Let’s make this vow ceremony everything we dreamed it would be.”
The excitement bubbled within her, and she quickly gathered the kids, explaining the plan with uncontainable enthusiasm. They were all thrilled, their eyes sparkling with excitement.
Later that afternoon, with the golden sun beginning to set, the family stood in a small clearing near the beach. A priest was there, ready to officiate the ceremony. The air was filled with the sweet scent of the ocean, and the soft sounds of nature surrounded them.
Y/N wore a simple yet elegant sundress that billowed gently in the sea breeze, while Steve was dressed casually, his warmth radiating from him like the sun itself. Their children stood nearby, eyes wide and smiles bright, filled with the joy of witnessing their parents’ love.
As the ceremony began, Steve took Y/N’s hands in his, the connection between them palpable. “I stood before you once, not fully understanding what I was committing to,” he began, his voice steady and sincere. “But today, I stand here knowing that my heart is yours. You are my everything, and I can’t imagine a life without you.”
Y/N felt her heart swell at his words, the love shining in his eyes. “And I promise to love you, support you, and cherish you for all that you are,” she said, her voice steady despite the emotions swirling within her. “You’ve shown me the meaning of love, and I am grateful every day for the life we’ve built together.”
The priest guided them through the vows, and the children beamed, clapping their hands in excitement as their parents exchanged rings once more. The atmosphere was filled with love and laughter, a stark contrast to the initial weight of their first wedding day.
Finally, as the ceremony came to an end, Steve leaned down, his forehead resting against hers. “With this ring, I give you my heart,” he whispered, sealing the moment with a kiss.
Y/N felt a surge of joy as their lips met, the kiss infused with all the love they had cultivated over the years. When they broke apart, their children rushed to them, enveloping them in a tight group hug.
“You’re really married again!” one of the kids exclaimed, bouncing on their toes with excitement.
Y/N laughed, feeling lighter than ever. “Yes! And this time, it’s filled with love.”
Steve wrapped his arms around all of them, pulling his family close. “And I couldn’t be happier,” he said, kissing Y/N’s temple. “We’ve made it through so much, and I look forward to every moment ahead with you all.”
As they stood there, a family united in love and joy, the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a magical glow over the beach. In that moment, surrounded by their children and the beauty of nature, Y/N knew they had created a new beginning—a celebration of love that would carry them forward, stronger than ever.
😬
im so sorry for interfering in your story but I so badly wanted to share it to you....and I apologies if I offended you in any way you felt like I used your story to write...let me know if you liked it or not....because the only part I was feeling incomplete with was their wedding, the rest worked between them..so I just wrote it...sorry again😬😬😬😬😬😬
Wow, I'm so glad you enjoyed the story so much that it left you wanting more. You are a good writer yourself and should definitely write your own stories and post them if you haven't already.
That being said, while I appreciate the enthusiasm, the story ended just how I wanted it to. Steve has made amends for his transgressions, and his Queen has moved on from their early days. Seeing as the story is set in a medieval fantasy setting, weddings weren't often about love or held to that standard, especially for royalty so, it was never about declaring any kind of love but rather forming a union between households and families. Steve and his Queen show their love in other ways and don't look back anymore. But I appreciate the love you've shown my story. You don't have to be sorry!
I just read pseudo princess again for the 5th time and it never ceases to make my heart burst. The character growth from both the reader and Steve, and the way their love evolves you did such a wonderful job writing it.
Where do you think Steve and the reader are right now in their lives?
They're definitely on baby number 4 or 5 by now. Reader is still the people's Queen but her generous nature with the poorer citizens still kinda rub the nobles the wrong way. They don't see the point but they respect her a lot more now that they see she and Steve are giving the Kingdom so many kids.
Steve has retired from the Avengers fighting and really just runs the meetings. He's taken a step back with all his kiddos but he still heads out for the big stuff if needed. Reader hates that but she understands his need to fight so she respects his choices (also, as Queen and a woman she has little say even though Steve would hate it if she doesn't like it).
So glad you enjoyed the story! It's definitely one of my faves and I may come back to it for a drabble or two. Maybe a one-shot. We'll see.
Pseudo Princess Pt.36 - End
A Chance Meeting
08/08/2020
Pairing: King!Steve x Reader Word Count: 10,158
Warnings: language, angst, fluff, creepy dudes
A/N: The end. 😭 I hope you’ve enjoyed it. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo
Please DO NOT repost my stories on any other sites or blogs. REBLOGS are always welcome.
*pictures relay only style of clothing and not physical appearance/race
Silken sheets that are cool to the touch. A roaring fire. The heartbreaking smell of peony blossoms.
A wooden bucket—your wooden bucket—full of ice-cold water.
A chill warmed by a feverish heat wrapped around your back.
All of these thoughts-no. They’re more like memories.
All of them have come to you over the course of a year.
They grow more elusive as they come.
Before you thought you could almost see a garden with an ocean of pink peonies in varying shades of blush to wine.
Now, after months of having these strange visions, they have become condensed into single colors at random. The most frequent is a shade of gold. A circle of blue.
You think these memories might be important but you cannot grasp onto them long enough to make any sense of them.
There’s also the fact that you know they cannot possibly be memories.
You have never seen a garden of peonies.
You’ve had plenty of chill in your life but a warmth like the one you’d recalled at the beginning of the year when the winter cold had been at its worst is as unfamiliar to you as the looming manor on the hill above the village.
With a small groan, you stop and set the bucket down. Your arms are strong enough to carry it but after so harsh a winter, you’d be a fool not to take care.
You’d only just managed to make it out alive after devoting so much time to your little one.
You suppose the golden hue you keep remembering is similar to your baby’s hair. Just a shade or two off. Just as beautiful.
The estate sits looming at the peak of a hill that sits almost a mile away from the village.
The manor itself, you can see, has been expanded. It has the appearance of a small castle now with towers and battlements. The parapet walls that now surround the structure offer crenels to whatever guard the now small castle may need.
It had sat there abandoned for so long, the lord once given task to watch over it and Bright Rise as well as several other small villages in this part of the kingdom having left.t
With the primary building made of wood, the added masonry has really given the old place new life.
What magnificent furnishings must it have? Gilded and ornate probably. Chairs worth more than everything you own.
What type of person has taken residence there? Is it someone you’d know?
Someone beautiful probably. A handsome lord and his gorgeous lady. Both of them probably members of his Majesty King Anthony’s court.
Do they have children? A young little lord or lady running around causing mischief.
You find yourself smiling, made happy by the image you paint in your head.
It makes you only a little sad that you picture yourself there. Your baby in your arms. Your husband…
My husband?
Silly…You don’t have a husband.
But you yearn for something you very nearly miss. Something you know you should have. Something…precious.
“Hello there, little mouse.”
You gasp, startled out of your daydreams and turn on your heel in search of the horrible voice.
With a stuttering heart you spot Phin, standing with his grimy hands in his tattered pockets.
“What do you want?” You ask him, voice cold but wavering as you grow wary.
Already you’re searching with a quick glance for the nearest route of escape.
You hunch over, grabbing your bucket and attempt and fail to stifle your groan of effort.
Phin lunges forward, his hand thrown out towards you. It makes you flinch. You keep your eyes shut as you wait for the blow.
It never comes.
Slowly you peek, searching for Phin's extended hand and find it wrapped around the rope handle of your bucket.
“What are you doing?” You ask, confused and fearful. “Let go.”
“I can treat you right, little mouse. I can give you proper protection. I’ll even pretend that bastard brat of yours is mine.
“I’ve been patient. I may not be able to wait much longer.” His voice is like sludge, creeping down your spine raising chills of terror as it goes.
You yank on the handle, urging him to release it. You meet his gaze, matching his threat with your own angry stubbornness.
You will not give in to him. Not now. Not ever. Even with your little one…you can’t.
He keeps holding it, refusing to let go until you feel like you’d rather drop the water and come back for more later.
He drops the rope and you stumble back a step, not having realized how much you were actually pulling on the bucket.
Some water spills but you’re just thankful to be free of Phin and you rush away to be even further. A glance back when you’re close to your small home shows you Phin still standing where you left him.
He’s watching you.
You hate him.
Getting inside, you shut the rickety door tight, resting your forehead against the splintered wood as you wait for your heart to stop pounding.
From behind you a sudden “goo" chases the tension and fear from your body. Your shoulders relax.
With a smile tugging at the corners of your lips, you turn in search of the cooing source.
Nestled into a bed of hay, covered with a thick blanket of navy fabric, is your little one.
A hair of golden hair and eyes as blue as the deepest ocean have enraptured you. Stolen your heart and changed your world.
“Are you finally awake?” You gush, moving to place your bucket by the crumbling and unlit fireplace before you make your way to him.
His chubby little legs kick away his tunic. A plain brown piece of linen you’d stitched together to keep him clothed.
At six months, he’s nearly outgrown it.
When you offer your arms, he throws his weight to his left until he can roll onto his stomach and then reaches for pivots towards you.
Sliding your hands underneath his arms, he grabs you and you lift him up then place several kisses to his chubby baby cheeks.
He's gorgeous, your baby boy. His smile is sun bright and the gleam in his eyes is sharp and observant.
The expressions he wears on his little face are familiar. They pull and tug at something too but you can’t focus on it long enough to care.
Your boy is your world and that’s all you need to know.
“Is my sweet boy hungry?” You wonder while moving for the bucket of water you’d lugged into the hut.
You dip your hand in and for a moment relish in the feel of the water on your hand. A sudden desire to be submerged in steaming hot water that smells like a spring garden overcomes you, but it’s gone by the time you gently swipe across your little one's face.
He protests you cleaning his face. Whining a little and twisting in your arms until you’re done and wait with both arms supporting him for his sputtering to stop.
He looks at you and after taking another moment to overcome his displeasure, he smiles again.
You chuckle and move to grab the swaddling blanket you’ve set aside for his use alone and sit with it in your lap as you lean back a little to expose your breast to feed him.
A song you feel you almost dreamt slips from your lips in a soothing hum. With your eyes shut you can almost see a beautiful gown sweep around your feet.
Strong arms hold you close as they lead you around a crowded room.
The image is like a dream too, part of the song you’re humming. You’ve never been in so vast a hall, tables laden with food and the satin gown you wear is softer than any rag you’ve ever worn.
No. You’ve never been bathed in such luxury.
This hovel is your home with its mostly dirt floor, loose cobblestones shoved around in spots you’d set aside to keep dry.
No windows. A door that hangs off its hinges. A straw bed. A patched roof.
As your son feeds and you allow your mind to put away the dream of nice things, you assess the hut you’ve made your home.
You’re almost certain that you’d had it in better condition before. The door had hung straight, the rickety fireplace had been sturdy and homely.
The floor had been more even. Your straw bed had been less lumpy.
You’d had another small shelf with your plates and cups. Your sewing kit safely stored in the cupboard below.
Your home had not been grand but it had been comfortable. It had been yours and you’d cared for it delicately and made it a sanctuary.
When had it changed so much?
As you attempt to remember when this place fell apart your mind is forced to confront several other unanswered questions that you seem to think on often but always forget.
It’s almost as if the thoughts are pushed from your mind until they are brought to the surface once more.
The one question that started it all…the one that had made you pause. You still remember the miller’s wife, staring at you at the small grocer's shop while you waited to pay for your bushel of potatoes.
“Oi, orphan. How much longer ‘til you have the babe?” She'd asked, her eyes narrowed as she considered your swollen belly.
You'd stroked it, smiling fondly at the little life growing within you.
“A fortnight.” You’d answered, happy and content despite your poor living.
“Ah, and who's the father?” She'd asked, then waited as your smile slowly fell.
You’d stood there for a few minutes, waiting your turn but lost in thought at the question that had never once occurred to you in the seven months since your belly began to grow.
“I…I don’t know.” You’d admitted to her and her eyes filled with a solemn worry.
“Looks like they finally cornered you. Didn’t get a look at ‘is face?” She'd wondered and it was then that you realized what she thought.
Your precious baby, your little growing bean, was the product of one of the village men forcing himself on you.
But it wasn’t true!
As you sit with your son in your arms, rocking him back and forth as he eats, you know without a doubt in your mind that your son was made with love.
You can feel it within your very soul. There was passion and love and devotion in his making.
A golden aura, warm and encompassing that gave you your own little ray of sunshine. But even though you know this you cannot see his father.
There is no father. Only your Joseph.
He stirs in your arms. You find him smiling, finished with his meal. And just like that, your thoughts are lost to his special allure.
“All done?” You ask him and he yawns.
You begin to wrap him up in the blanket you’d made for him and bring a basket from the corner of your hut.
It’s a decent size with straps sewn into the wicker so that you may put it on your back.
You place it before you, balanced between your legs and gently lay Joseph within. You make certain he's wrapped up tight and kiss his cheek before you fit a domed lid on top.
The lid covers his head and keeps him safe from the summer heat.
“We'll check the traps and then come right back.” You promise him and lift the basket onto your shoulders, listening as he coos long baby words that say nothing.
It’s like he’s talking to you, the quiver of his voice moving up and down with inflection as if he knows what he’s doing.
He takes a breath and then starts again, “Oooh-awhhhh-wahhhhhh-ooooohhhhhhh…”
You can’t help but smile, your skin greeted by scorching sun as you start your trek into the trees behind your home.
“Let's check the traps by the pond first, then we'll check the bog by the road.” Joseph coos along with you.
~~~~~~~~~~
The view is spectacular.
It’s downright scenic from up here so high on the hill. Even if the beautiful valley is slightly tarnished by the village below.
It’s part of the reason he decided to keep the purchase.
Several months ago, Steve had found the deed to the manor on Sunbright Hill.
He'd sat for nearly an hour while he'd considered the paperwork, trying to remember why he’d made the purchase of such a dilapidated plot.
The lord that had once resided here had apparently vacated when he'd married a lady of considerable wealth but she preferred the Capital city to Bright Rise below so, they’d left and never come back.
Slowly the manor began to rot and the village, without its caretaker, had also fallen into poverty and corruption.
The farms were all but dead. Only two were still in use and had the season failed once in the past few years, the village would have surely fallen.
“Steve?” Bucky sighs, moving into the renovated den.
Steve stands by the large arched windows behind his massive oak desk.
The chair is angled towards the glass, distracted as he's been lately, he can’t seem to get any work done.
“Steve?” Bucky says louder.
Steve blinks, pulled from his brooding to notice his friend. He turns and waits, saying nothing.
“She's here.” Bucky smiles.
Steve’s heart gives an eager stutter as his own bearded face breaks into a wide smile.
“Where?” He asks, moving towards his oldest friend.
“She’s with Nat in the dining room. She was hungry.”
Steve is already out the door, stomping with wide steps down the hallway, then another and another, down a staircase then to the east side of the manor towards the dining room.
It’s a long room, a table long enough to sit at least forty people takes up most of the center space.
Each wall has been adorned with tapestries and paintings, an iron chandelier with sixty candles hangs at the center of the room, currently unlit.
Instead, windows on both sides of the room sit open, a cool breeze blowing in to cool the manor from the summer heat.
As Steve thrusts the doors open, he spots a grouping of his closest friends. Sam, Wanda, Pietro, Peter who is actually squatting beside the chair they are all surrounding, and Natasha in the one beside it.
In the chair is a cherub. An angel. A literal princess dressed in pale pink. Her golden hair, a shade darker than Steve’s is pinned back on one side with clasp of small and ornate white peony blossoms.
“Maggie!” Steve calls, the honey in his deep voice soft and flowing as his heart swells in his chest.
The toddler turns her head, searching aimlessly as his voice echoes around the room. Her right hand full of jelly and toast as she’d sat munching, she now opens and holds her fingers wide as she isn’t coordinated enough to recognize when the food has fallen from her tiny grasp.
Everyone is watching her, despite the presence of their King and Steve cannot blame them. Her eyes find him and she releases a high squeal of excitement before she turns in her seat to take hold of the arm.
“Wait, Maggie, your hands are a mess.” Nat says, her voice full of amusement.
But little Maggie has no patience for cleanliness with her papa so close.
“Papa!” She screams, turning to look at him as she stands on the chair.
Her lips wrap around the name with a slur, her talking improving but still just beginning.
Nat continues to wipe her hands as Steve laughs and moves for her, arms extended.
Maggie bounces on her feet excitedly. Her pink dress swishing with every move.
As he reaches her, she allows herself to fall into his arms and he catches her, spinning her once as he presses a long kiss to her cheek.
Maggie laughs, her hands wrapped around Steve’s head so tightly that Steve wonders if her strength is increasing or it’s just his imagination.
“She has been asking about you all week.” Nat says, rising and then turning to Bucky as he approaches her to give her a kiss.
“We'll give you some space.” Wanda offers then moves around the chair towards the exit.
Steve stops his turning to watch her go, Pietro following.
“Will you be going back to Broklin?” He wonders, wondering if the twins only came to escort Maggie.
“No. We'll visit with Tony.” Pietro nods, then both of them stop at the door and bow before heading off at what must be Pietro’s run.
“How was the journey?” Steve worries, turning his eyes on Nat.
“It was fine. She was a little fussy last night but as soon as I explained that we were coming to see her papa, she converted her energy to enthusiastic impatience.” Nat chuckles. “She really has been asking for you. ‘Papa where?’, ‘Where Papa?’, ‘Papa, Papa, Papa…’. It’s almost as if it’s the only word she knows.”
“She’s never been away from him for so long.” Bucky observes, both he and Nat watching as Maggie places her little hands on Steve’s cheeks, her fingers exploring the edges of his beard while Steve admires her little face.
“I’m sorry, my treasure. I just wanted to make sure the manor would be ready when you arrived.” He tells her.
She seems to understand as she tilts her head to one side and throws her hand up, bent at the elbow as she babbles a string of words only she understands.
“Do you forgive me?” Steve begs.
Maggie giggles sleepily then leans forward to lay her head on his shoulder.
Steve strokes her tiny back, caressing her hair a bit as her eyes begin to close.
“How long will you stay, Nat?” Steve asks, his voice dropping a bit in volume to respect his sleeping toddler.
“Long enough for you and Sam to go and come back. Bucky and Peter will help me with Maggie.” She nods, looking for her faithful friend and Knight.
She spots him in another seat, head in hand, elbow on the table as he dozes lightly.
“He's been doting on her.” Nat explains. “Too much, perhaps?”
Sam huffs a laugh as he crosses his arms across his hard chest, tugging on the crimson tunic he’d quickly dressed himself in this morning.
“He’ll be angry we went to visit Morgana without him.” Sam observes and Steve can’t find it in him to deny it.
The romance that had bloomed between them had seemed to come out of nowhere for him.
In the back of his mind when he’s been laying in bed with Maggie beside him, he can almost remember a conversation about their eventual marriage. When he brought it up to Nat—he was fairly certain the topic had been discussed with a woman—she admitted to the thought never even crossing her mind.
She’d praised the match and teased Peter afterwards, but it has left Steve with another unanswered question.
So many…so many strings that he’s tried to pull on only to find the way blocked.
Maggie coos in his arm, another bout of baby babble in her sleep that pulls him from his pondering.
“We’ll head out in a few hours.” He tells Sam who straightens up and nods. “I would like to go now, but I want to spend a bit of time with Maggie before I leave her again.”
~~~~~~~~~~
A few hours with Maggie turned into thirty minutes.
The longer Steve sat with her in his arms, the more eager he was for her to wake.
He’s missed her but knows that she’s tired so in an effort to get the visit over with and return to his smiling princess, he tucks her into her crib in his bedroom then hands her care over to Nat who sits by the window while Bucky sees them out.
“How long will you be, your Majesty?” Bucky wonders, keeping pace with Steve’s quick and long stride.
“Not long. I’ve only to invite him to the ball in two weeks and we’ll return. I’m certain we’ll be back before dinner.” Steve assures him. “I hear you and Natasha are considering adopting a child?”
Bucky smiles. “There is another option, one that Natasha is most eager to try but I think I’ve convinced her to reconsider.”
Steve regards his friend skeptically.
“Truly, I think I have. She met with a witch a few weeks ago and apparently there is a way for Natasha to regain her ability to have a child.” Bucky explains, his expression a little darker.
Steve’s confusion is evident in the narrow of his brow. Despite his curiosity, he keeps his eyes fixed ahead as they move along the south hall to the stables.
The fall of their shoes echoes along the empty corridor, still only half decorated as it was only finished a few days ago. Steve can still smell the fresh clay between the stones underneath their feet.
He’ll have carpets put in to quell the sound.
“Isn’t that what you both want?” He wonders.
Bucky shakes his head. “I want her to be happy. She thinks I want a child of my own. Naturally my own. But I don’t care if the child is mine by blood. I just want to love her.”
“Magic like that of which she speaks comes with a hefty price.”
“That’s why I refuse to accept it.” Bucky sighs, the worries of his world evident on his shoulders.
“The price is too high?” Steve wonders, finally looking to his friend.
“We would be granted the ability to have our own child, but the mother would have to relinquish years of her own life. Five is what the witch told her. So, if it were Nat’s fate to die at the age of sixty, five years would be taken from that and she would die that much sooner.” Bucky laments, shaking his head in denial. “I cannot condone it.”
Steve sees his friend thinking things through, biting his lip as he wonders if he should speak what has consumed his mind aloud.
He gives in, “I know that it’s her choice. If she should want to do it, I only have some say in it. If having a child truly born of us both is what would make her happy then I would have no choice but to comply, but I would rather adopt a child who we will both love as our own anyway and have my wife for five years longer.”
Steve’s heart gives a painful ache.
Something in Bucky’s words makes him sad and breaks his heart.
My wife…Steve repeats in his head, the memory of feeling proud at that very thought overtaking his senses.
“Is it Margaret again?” Bucky wonders, stopping as they reach the end of the hall. “You’ve got that look on your face again.”
Steve reaches up to stroke the spot on his chest where he can feel his heart beating. Every thump it gives sends more agony into the pit of his stomach making his head hurt.
Is it Margaret? Steve doesn’t think so.
The first time someone had asked him if it was Margaret he was mourning he admitted it was because it was easier than to tell his friends that no, it wasn’t his dead wife he was thinking of. In fact, he wasn’t sure who it was he was thinking of.
He shuts his eyes now, overcome with the sweet scent of oils. Lilac and juniper. Peonies. Fields of them. A garden full, just like back home.
A smile flitters past his sense. The image nearly chokes him. A laugh. A pout. A tear stained face made blurry as he can’t recall its beauty.
Maggie in womanly arms, pressed gently to her breast.
These elusive images that skim his mind are not Margaret. Everyone seems to ignore that Maggie is too young to be Margaret’s or perhaps they simply don’t care?
It’s almost a silent agreement that Maggie’s mother is not Margaret but who exactly she is, no one cares. No one will think on the possibility long enough for it to matter.
Even Steve loses focus after a few second of torment.
Even now, as his heart breaks painfully, Bucky puts his hand on his shoulder and gives him a shake.
Just like that, the images that pained him only moments ago are gone.
Steve smiles, breathing in deep before exhaling in a huff.
“I’ll be quick. I want to be back before it’s too dark.” With a nod from Bucky, Steve hastens his way into the stable.
Sam already has his horse saddled and waiting.
He hops on, adjusting his posture as he takes the reigns then turns to give Bucky one final wave.
“Keep my daughter happy until I return.” He orders.
Bucky waves them off and watches until they clear the large gate.
~~~~~~~~~~
Your hands are shaking with rage. Yet another night with nothing caught.
All of your snares are in fact, broken. A deliberate cut made to the wire you’d spent so much money on.
You think you know exactly who it was that came out to ruin your work. There’s only one person who would benefit from sabotaging your efforts to feed yourself and your boy.
The image of Phin standing across the field from your home, staring at you is burned into your mind.
If it weren’t for Joseph, you would happily starve before you accept Phin’s hand in marriage.
As it is, it isn’t only you. In order to feed your son, you must eat. With no one coming to you for mending—which you are also sure is thanks to Phin’s interference as it has only been happening the past few weeks—you have no money to buy anything. No grain. No bread. No meat.
If you do not eat, your son will starve.
You clutch the broken snare in your hand, squeezing so tight you can feel the wire dig into the palms of your hand.
Were they not so rough, you may have cut yourself.
You take a quick peek at the basket carefully nestled between the rough trunk of tree and large berry bush. Your little one still dozing peacefully and safely covered by the basket’s lid.
While he sleeps, you know you must be quick with the snares by the bog. It isn’t too far so you decide to let him sleep in the shade and make your way through the trees to the road’s edge.
It’s a very short walk. Should he cry you’ll hear him perfectly and be able to run back to him in less than ten seconds.
The sun beats down on the road here and the bog is nearly dried over from the heat of the summer sun.
Normally the mud within is a thick sticky paste that one can easily be caked in. You even remember fetching a purse for the old woman who used to care for you when you were little.
As you stop by its edge, you wonder where the old woman has gone. You attempt to recall the last time you’d seen her but the last memory you have is fetching her purse from the mud pit.
Forcing her from your mind, you look to the two snares you’d set up between two trees and right at the edge of the bog.
The one at the edge has also been cut. You kick it angrily before you move to the other and find that it has also been tampered with.
“Fuck!” You mutter, hating Phin with every fiber of your being.
You try to picture him beside you, laying claim over you as his wife. You think on the life you will live, trapped in your home, and expected to fulfill his every whim, wish, and desire. He will rule you with a heavy hand, command you to obey, and take what he wants from you with violence if need be.
Terror roots you to that spot between the trees, hunched over as your hands shake with anger at the lack of options for you and Joseph.
There is the other choice, the one you’ve refused to make because where might you go? Here in Bright Rise you at least have a roof over your head.
Soon fall will come, then winter after that. If you choose to leave, you might be condemning yourself and your son to a death by freeze and you can’t do that. You can’t make such a reckless choice with him so little still.
You gather as much of the wire as you can, carefully wrapping it around an empty spool you’d kept just in case, hoping to keep your anger from shifting into sorrow.
As you work, you can hear the sound of hooves behind you. Two horses at most. Perhaps three? The sound of shifting gravel too close.
There’s the clearing of a throat before a steady voice speaks. “Excuse me, might I trouble you, miss for some directions? My guard and I seem to have become lost in these backroads by the village.”
You sigh, still consumed with rage with Phin, but rise and turn to face the man who addresses you.
He’s godly, this man with golden hair and a beard to match. His eyes are piercing. Storm blue as they stare you down and you fidget with the spool in your hand as your heart does a sudden and unexpected dip into your belly where it explodes into a flurry of butterflies.
Voice choked in your throat, you look away from the beautiful man and tried to clear your head.
“His Majesty, King Steven has asked you a question, miss.” His guard says, shocking your system into an automatic curtsy as you intentionally avoid their gaze now.
“I’m sorry!” You gasp, worried you might have given offense.
“Sam, it’s alright.” King Steven says, his voice soft and coaxing.
You take a quick peek at his guard, another handsome man with deep umber skin and a soft bronze glow. His gaze is a little sterner but kind all the same.
“We did not mean to startle you.” King Steven says, the gentility in his voice luring you into taking another look at him.
When your eyes meet, you find that you can’t look away.
“I-I was checking my traps.” You relay, feeling stupid suddenly for giving him information that he has not asked for.
“I can see that.” King Steven nods, a small smile tugging up half of his full pink lips.
He’s exquisite. His dress is fine, luxurious satin and silk. His tunic is a royal blue, a silver stitching along every seam in what looks to be a small wavy pattern.
It looks familiar and your hand absentmindedly moves with the pattern of the stitch as if it remembers how to make it though you’ve never sewn on anything so fine in your life.
King Steven’s eyes notice the movement and he watches your hand before you remember yourself and speak again.
“Forgive me, your Majesty, you asked me a question.” You gasp, dropping the spool at your feet and moving around the mud pit to stand at the edge of the road, much closer to where he and his guard tarry.
King Steven smiles again, sending your heart into a pitter patter.
“If you head down this road, you will reach a fork with three smaller roads. You’ll want to take the Eastern most road for nearly four miles before you reach a second fork of two roads. Take the left and follow that road and do not stray. You will reach the Capital before noon.” You say, pointing as you give instruction.
As you finish you drop your arm and bring your hand to tug at the worn leather of your belt.
King Steven stares at you, smiling for so long that you look down at your feet and are suddenly aghast by the state of your shoes and skirts.
You’re so dirty that you’re ashamed to be seen by them. With a bite to your lip, you turn and hurry back around the mud pit to pick up your spool.
“Thank you.” King Steve says, his wide shoulders relaxed. “Might I pay you for your assistance? What is the customary amount? Five silver pieces?”
You throw out your hand to stop him, embarrassed to take payment for so small a favor. “No!”
Gasping you watch as the spool flies out of your hand. It hits the front of his horse then topples onto the road where it rolls along further down the rocky path.
King Steven dismounts as you rush forward in chase of the wire.
Both of you reach it at the same time but King Steven is first to bend over and take it.
“Oh, please…” You gasp, worried about the dirt and muck that must be caked on the tool. “You’ll dirty your hands.”
As King Steven stands upright, he dusts it off then offers it to you. “A little dirt never killed anyone.”
Your senses are assaulted by him and for a moment all you can do is stare at his hand as he waits for you to take your wire.
He smells like evergreen woods and oranges. No…limes…You’re not sure! It’s a citrus of some sort and it overwhelms your mind. His voice is deep and smooth. It works its way into your bones and nearly turns them into jelly.
“Will you not take it?” He asks, shaking the spool a little.
You look up to meet his gaze but find that his smile has disappeared. In its place is a look of severe concentration.
Is he angry with you? Have you insulted him by waiting so long to take your property?
The look in his eyes is intense. He looks almost as if he’s trying to recall an elusive memory.
You know the feeling…
Quickly you take the spool, ignoring the moment your hand brushes his. He must notice how rough your hands are. He must mix with ladies whose hands had never once known the strife of physical labor.
“Thank you, your Majesty.” You curtsy quickly, avoiding his gaze and move around him.
A hot, vice-like grip takes hold around your wrist.
You stop, turning to look at his hand then up to meet his gaze.
Gone is the look of confusion, replaced by a furrowed brow and what can only be hopeful searching within his storm blue eyes.
“Steve?” His guard warns, confused by the moment almost as much as you are.
“What are-” You whisper, voice so weak you’re surprised you can manage to speak at all.
You clear your throat and search for the courage to say your piece.
You don’t like this. The way his presence almost consumes you. His touch is burning, and you’re not sure why you feel as if you’ve also been waiting a lifetime for it.
“Unhand me.” You plead, twisting your wrist in his hand but refusing to look away from his slowly shifting expression.
He smiles and your heart stutters, fear of what it might mean making you yank a little harder, but King Steven uses the momentum of your pull to step towards you. He wraps his free arm around your waist, dipping his head down as he presses fevered lips against your own.
You’re frozen in his arms, wide eyes staring at his own now shut. His lips are fierce, his kiss is hard. It hurts a little and it takes you a moment to feel the warmth of their touch.
He drops your wrist and wraps his other arm around you, hand pressed to the back of your head as he tilts his own to one side and coaxes your lips open with a gentle swipe of his tongue.
The taste of him stuns you, your body freezing as your mind is assaulted with images all blurred together into one precious life that you’d most assuredly lost and now found again.
Your eyes grow blurry, tears flooding from the corners as your lips finally respond to Steve’s kiss.
With a gasp you pull away, sobbing once as you gobble up the sight of him.
Steve’s hands caress the sides of your face, stroking your hair and cheeks as he also devours your visage.
“I found you.” He whispers, throat tick with emotion.
You sob once more, arms pulling him towards you as you give in to the shocking relief you feel to be in his arms once more.
Your heart breaks as you clutch him close. Over a year of lost time with not only him but…
“Maggie!” You exclaim, voice barely above a whisper.
“She’s perfect,” Steve assures you, pulling back to meet your gaze once more. “She’s growing bigger every day. She has your sweetness, your love of jams and jellies.”
Steve laughs, so happy that his own tears fall too. “She calls me Papa, and she calls Sam birb.”
You laugh, shaking your head already knowing that Bucky’s to blame for that.
“I don’t think it’s that funny.” Sam suddenly says, pulling both your gazes towards him.
“Sam…” You smile.
“I’ve kept watch over her, just as I promised.” The recognition in his eyes is heavenly.
“How did this happen?” Steve asks, continuing the caress of your cheeks. “How did we lose each other.”
You sigh, licking your lips as you prepare to explain when your heart suddenly drops, and you remember another pair of storm blue waiting in a basket. “Steve…”
Without warning you turn and race into the trees, running as fast as you can to make sure that he wasn’t a dream.
You find the basket where you left it and pull it away from its hiding spot before you remove the lid, happy to find your little boy still fast asleep.
“Y/N!” Steve calls, racing up behind you where he skids to a stop. “What is it, my flower? What’s the matter?”
He sighs heavily when he finds you, moving to place his hands on your shoulders, needing to feel you it seems.
“Don’t run away from me like that…” He pleads, and your heart aches for him but this is much more important.
“Steve,” You begin, and turn to reveal the six-month-old baby in your arms. “You have a son.”
The step back he takes you attribute to shock. The heartbreak and confusion on his face you have only yourself to blame for.
“How-?” He asks, shaking his head as he stares at the tiny prince in your arms.
“Steve…” You begin, suddenly fearful of what he might say when you confess the deal you’d made with grandmother.
“No.” Steve cuts you off, reaching out to trace the shape of your arms through the dingy dress you wear. “Not here. Let’s go home.”
“To Broklin?” You wonder, relieved that he’s eager to resume your lives together.
“No, I-do you remember when I asked you if I should purchase your little hut?” Despite speaking to you, his eyes are still trained on your son.
Slowly, as he speaks, his hand skates across your arms until he can stroke Joseph’s little cheek with one tentative finger.
“Yes.” You frown, disapproving of the purchase as it isn’t your land to begin with.
“Well, when you forbade me from buying it, I bought the manor on the hill instead.” He confesses, finally meeting your gaze.
“Oh.” You’re stunned.
“I thought that it would be nice to have somewhere in Malibia to call our own. Visiting your family is something that I wanted you to feel free to do. I wanted to give you a space you could come to, somewhere near your home.” He explains sweetly sending your heart into a tizzy.
“Steve…” You reach up, pressing your palm to his warm bearded cheek while keeping a firm hold of your little one with the other.
“Come on.” Steve urges you, leaning down quickly to kiss you then pulls away slowly almost as if he doesn’t want to. “Our princess is waiting.”
~~~~~~~~~~
She’s as beautiful as the night you’d held her close, memorizing the little wheeze in her breath as she’d drifted to sleep.
She’s bigger. She’s walking, unsteadily but moving. She’s talking, indeed saying ‘Papa’ but she says other things that you’ve already picked up on.
Her little chubby limbs have stretched a bit and you can’t believe you’ve lost so much time with her.
Tears are still streaming down your cheeks while you sit here, staring at her sleeping face.
Steve’s hands support her little back as he holds her to his chest, his back resting against the ornate wooden headboard of your bed.
“She’ll know you soon enough.” Steve assures you as you nod and quickly wipe the tears from your eyes. “She was so little.”
“I know.” You reach out, caressing her little head before you look down at the even smaller boy between you both. He’s chewing on his fist, little legs up in the air as he quietly plays by himself.
He’s so good at just being alone, you feel terrible about it because you know that it’s your fault. You’ve needed him to be independent as you worked hard to earn money for both of you.
When he meets your eyes, he coos those long wordless streams of vowel. He’s talking to you, probably relishing in the plush mattress all four of you lay on.
“Shh, my sweet boy. Your sister is sleeping.” You stroke his little chest and he takes hold of your hand as he kicks his legs in excitement.
“Y/N…” Steve begins, and you know it’s finally time.
“I’m ready now.” You sniffle, meeting his look of somber confusion. “I’ll tell you what happened.”
It takes you less than five minutes to explain. Grandmother’s vision. Her actions to see it in greater detail. The truth of his imminent death. You tell him that you begged for his life and that night when Grandmother had interrupted your sleep, she’d come to tell you that she’d found a solution.
“She said the magic would ask for payment. Something that only I could give.” You hope that he doesn’t hate you, his expression unreadable as he watches you with his brooding brow all scrunched and focused. “I thought that it would be my ability to see or walk. My hearing perhaps? Or being able to speak…I never thought that it would take you and Maggie from me.
“My life perhaps? But not my memories of you. Not knowing you.” You sigh, waiting for his rage to show.
What you get instead, is a calm conversation and a gentle pout.
“But it wasn’t only your memories. It was everyone’s. The magic wiped your existence as my wife and Queen completely.” He observes.
“Yes.” You agree. “Even the villagers in Bright Rise acted as if I’d never gone anywhere. How can magic be so powerful as to erase me completely from so many minds?”
Steve shakes his head, his hand still absentmindedly stroking Maggie’s back.
“It was such a risk for you to take.” Steve frowns, his gaze piercing, and the guilt you’d felt building since you’d stepped foot in the manor crests. “How could you make such a choice without consulting with me? I’m your husband.”
“I know.” Your lip trembles. “I’m sorry. It all happened so quickly, and I had so little time to consider the consequences of my choice. All I knew was that your future was certain. You would die protecting the world and I could not give you up to it. If I had the power to save you, of course I would use it. So long as I knew that Maggie would have you, I could stand any future I had to live.”
“Even this one? Both of us separated forever?” Steve counters, holding a mirror to the past year of your life.
You shake your head, new tears springing forth as you look down at your boy who has fallen asleep once again.
“I thought I would have to marry Phin.” You admit, voice quiet so as not to disturb your little ones.
“Why?”
“I’m fairly certain he was orchestrating it. No one in the village were taking work from me to mend their clothing and today, you found me checking my snares for small game, but someone has been breaking them. Cutting the wire or simply tearing it down.
“He wanted me to be hungry enough to marry him and the bastard knew that I would do it, for Joseph if not for myself.” Your anger taints your vision red, Phin’s detestable face a memory you wish you could forget.
Mentioning your son brings Steve’s eyes back down to him. He takes one hand and reaches down, placing his finger into Joseph’s tiny open hand. He grasps his papa’s finger, a tiny fist full of surprisingly sturdy strength.
“Now that we’ve remembered, I’m panicked by the idea that you might have found a new Queen in my absence.” You confess, chewing nervously on your lip.
“Bucky and Sam suggested it. They brought Sharon around me often to try and convince to take her on, but something prevented me from doing so.” His words send your heart into your feet, your head is suddenly splitting.
Glad as you are that he doesn’t seem to have found a new wife, the possibility of it make you feel almost sick to your stomach with anxiety.
“I think perhaps I knew in some way, deep down, that I was already married. The very thought of sharing my bed with someone else drove my skin to crawl. I felt guilty, as if I were committing some grave sin.” He admits, unrelenting in his stare.
“I would not have blamed you…” You whisper, almost fearful to speak the words. “…if you had taken a new wife. If you’d had another child with someone else. I would have had no one to blame but myself.”
“No one could ever take your place.” He assures you. “Even though I didn’t remember you, your presence was greatly missed. I may not have known what it was I was yearning for, but I was wishing for you every moment of every day.”
You shut your eyes, allowing the pleasure his words give you to soak deep down into your bones.
Even though he doesn’t ask, you’d also felt the exact same way. Something had always told you that somewhere was a home waiting for you to take your place. Never would you have guessed that it was a castle in the next Kingdom over.
“Were you frightened?” Steve wonders, drawing your gaze once more.
You find him watching Joseph once again, his thumb stroking the little one’s hand.
“Expecting him all on your own?” He clarifies.
“I was afraid of how I’d take care of him.” You smile, reaching to stroke the length of his little nose. “I knew I would be alright birthing him. It was long and taxing. But he was with me so suddenly. It was over before I even knew what was happening. The miller’s wife came to check on me and she helped me for a few days after, but I had no other choice than to push on. I was up and caring for him and myself before the week was out. That’s when my fear came.
“I knew that I had to feed myself in order to keep him fed and healthy and I wasn’t sure exactly how to do it with the village set so resolutely against me. An unwed mother with a bastard child?”
“I’ll have it burned to the ground.” Steve declares suddenly.
You smile wide, your heart melting as you watch the intensity in his gaze as new love blooms for his son.
“I wish you had spoken with me about Agatha’s vision before you made any decisions.” Steve laments, an anger growing in contrast with the new love.
It effectively wipes aware the happiness his love gives you as you regret having kept him in the dark.
“If I’d told you,” You begin, voice breaking and weak as emotion gets the better of you. The sound of it brings his gaze back to you and he seems to soften with it. “You would have kept me from doing what needed to be done. There was no question of saving you, Steve. I had only just found you. Our baby girl only just born. I could not lose you.”
Shutting your eyes, you let your head fall, burying your face into your pillow.
“Imsuhsawree.” You sob, muffled against the fluff of the bed.
The silence feels endless until you’ve just about made up your mind to look at him again when a sudden snort of laughter cuts the tension with ease.
You whip your head to face him, searching for the source of the laugh only to find Steve with his hand over his mouth as his body shakes with silent laughter.
“You’re laughing?” You gasp in disbelief; certain you must be seeing things.
Your husband cannot possibly be amused in this moment while your heart and soul are drowning in guilt and grief.
“I’m sorry.” Steve chortles, a whisper of giggles as he tries his best not to wake Maggie. “Forgive me, I…”
You frown at him, displeased with his humor but he reaches for you with his hand and hooks it behind your head in a soft caress.
“It’s not funny.” You insist.
“No.” Steve shakes his head. “It isn’t. I’m sorry, my flower. I’m just…so happy you’ve returned. I’ve missed you so much.”
And just like that, he’s forgiven.
The four of you lay there in bed for hours. Though your stomach is empty, you refuse to bring your hunger to Steve’s attention. Even though you know very well just how much he will be upset with you for it, you can’t bring yourself to tear your little family apart so very soon.
The sun is only just setting when Joseph decides it’s time to eat. He whimpers, a soft murmuring of whiney breaths until the air takes shape and his cries begin to grow louder.
Beside him Maggie also stirs, staring around with wide eyes as the crying rises in volume and she’s brought out of her blissful slumber.
Steve wakes last, while you are already scooping your little boy into your arms and propping yourself up against the headboard to feed him, he rubs his face and glances at the window.
“It’s already so late.” He realizes, turning back to you and Joseph while Maggie twists her body until she can lay on her stomach and then throw herself back to sit on her bottom.
Her eyes are glued to Joseph as he latches to your breast and begins to suckle. Your breasts are sore, and the pain is worse than you remember it being with Maggie, but you have no time to focus on the pain.
You make sure he can eat easily, watching him for any signs of distress.
“Did you get her a wet nurse?” You wonder, letting your eyes drift to Maggie who still sits watching you feed her brother.
“I did.” Steve nods, lifting the girl back up onto his lap. “She was so little.”
You look away, a quiver in your bottom lip as you try to push past the heartbreak that you hadn’t been there for your daughter like you’d wanted to be. “Yeah.”
Steve is familiar with you enough that he knows you don’t want to dwell on it and changes the topic quickly.
“Shall we have dinner in here? I don’t want to share either of you yet.” He confesses, stroking the back of Maggie’s little head.
“Yes.” You nod, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically at the mention of food because Steve frowns.
“Damn it, Y/N.” He gripes and gently places Maggie back on the bed before he marches towards the doors. “If you were hungry, you should have said something. After your meal, I’ll have Natasha draw you a bath.”
The prospect of a full belly and a luxuriously hot bath which you hadn’t realized you’d grown so fond of is so dreamy that your heart gives a clench and once more you feel so very happy you just might cry again.
~~~~~~~~~~
“How’s your bath, my petal?” Steve checks, moving to the edge of the bed once more as the children sleep on.
After their dinner they’d quickly begun to play. They’d explored each other’s boundaries and Maggie had made Joseph cry only once for a few minutes before they were sharing Maggie’s soft cloth dolls.
They each sleep with one in their hands, huddled close together at the center of the bed.
“Is the water too hot?” Steve pulls over a small yellow footstool, sitting upon the soft cushion.
He doesn’t wait for your answer and dips his left hand into the water, testing the temperature as you lay yourself back against the large copper tub.
“Your hand is going to smell like peonies and rose oils.” You tease him, bringing your hand up above the fragrant water.
You take a peony petal and carefully tuck it behind his ear, gentle drops of water skirting down into his beard as the pink stands in pleasant contrast to the gold of his hair.
Biting your lip, you comb it back, tracing the shape of his jaw with damp fingers.
“Even though I didn’t know you, my heart and soul yearned for you.” You whisper, sliding your hand down to rest upon his shoulders.
“And I you.” He smiles, eyes shut as you lean in to press a gentle kiss to his lips.
“I wonder,” You begin, pulling back to examine and rememorize every inch of his face. “Now that we are together again, whether this will negate in some way the effect of the spell?”
This thought raises a new worry in you. A fear that by meeting again you have somehow doomed Steve to die.
“Even if it has, I will not part with you again. I won’t die either.” Steve promises, but how can you take him at his word.
Magic is wicked and it will take its price one way or another.
“I have to speak to grandmother.” You counter, your gentle caress of his shoulders turned into a desperate cling.
“She’s gone.” Steve says, sending your heart into a pit within your belly. “No one has seen her since all of this started. However, there is something that I found in my office back home.”
Steve rises, moving towards his cloak left to rest on the back of a chair at the opposite end of the room.
When he returns, he holds in his hand a sealed piece of parchment, folded twice to keep its contents secure. The wax seal is a deep purple, her insignia that of a cat, back arched and head tilted up as if to yowl towards the moon.
You reach for your towel nearby and dry your hands then take the letter as Steve holds it out.
“I’ve been carrying it with me everywhere I go, hoping it would yield some explanation as to why I have been feeling so…empty.” He tells you, picking up his stool and moving to place it a bit more near the head of the tub where you sit. “Scoot forward.”
You do as he asks, staring at the letter and consider what its contents might be.
Steve’s hands disappear beneath the surface of your bathwater and emerge with a small porous sponge. It’s rough at first but with water and under Steve’s heavy hand, it becomes malleable and he begins to stroke your back, cleaning the peasant grime from your body.
“Why haven’t you opened it?” You wonder, turning it over almost expecting it to billow with glittering smoke.
“I attempted to many times. I couldn’t. The seal would not break. See there at the bottom of the fold?” He instructs.
You turn it over to look at the side with the seal and spot the small loopy writing at the bottom. The penmanship is so exquisite, you’re almost certain now that grandmother had indeed once been of noble blood.
For the Queen of Broklin.
“For me?” You gasp.
“I think it will only open for you, petal.” Steve explains as he leans closer to get the tops of your arms and then following the flow of muscle over your shoulders and down along your sides slowly.
Eager now, knowing this letter is meant for you, you tear it open and the seal breaks without fuss.
“Can you read it?” Steve wonders, no note of teasing in his voice.
Like you, he must be wondering whether so long a time away from life at the castle has made you forget everything you’d learned.
“I think so.” And with bated breath, you read, glad that you’d tried so hard to learn and only slightly surprised that you understand every single word she’s written.
If you are reading this note, it means that I was right.
First, believe me when I tell you that every word I spoke of King Rogers’s death was true. There is indeed a threat that would take his life and that of your father’s and King Thor’s as well.
I thought that perhaps King Rogers’s death would be enough to convince you that what we needed to do would be necessary and I am glad to say I was right.
What I did not tell you is that I knew the price to be asked would be the life you’d built within the castle in Broklin. I could not bear to tell you that you’d spent all that time suffering and building a family with him only to have it ripped from you.
Somehow, I don’t think you would have changed your mind even if I had.
After you spoke to me of your connection with the Asgardian king, I was wary of what it might mean for your future as Queen in the kingdom. There was only one chance to break the curse dealt by the spell to save your husband’s life and that was if you and he were always meant to be together.
Soulmates, I believe they call it. Two halves of one whole, set at opposite ends of the world to meet each other in just the right way to create what we know as destiny. In this case, the opposite ends you were placed in were poverty and wealth.
Your husband had every advantage in life while you had none. You were given no loves in life and King Rogers was given one big enough to eclipse the pull you would have for him when and if you met.
At the time, I worried that King Thor might be your true mate. The two of you were so well suited and perhaps I’m right? But if you’re reading this, it means that you and King Rogers found each other once again.
By some miracle, he or you have lifted the curse, and you can once more be together to live your lives and King and Queen of Broklin.
A fate you might not have found had I not thrown my purse into that bog by the road. I hope you appreciate my efforts, girl. I have worked very hard to walk you through this life but must now leave you to shape it on your own.
Don’t worry. I might not be with you every day, but should you need me, I will come. You don’t need to send for me. I’ll know. And rest assured, your husband’s life is safe.
There will always be evil in the world and he will always rise to fight it but be content to know that his life you most certainly have saved. Take care.
-Grandmother
You read the letter at least three times before Steve’s chin finds your shoulder, the scruff of his beard pleasantly rough against your skin.
“What does it say?” He wonders, tilting his head to kiss your neck.
You fold the letter and toss it away so that it won’t get wet, then lean back until you’re relaxed and can turn to look and admire your husband’s storm blue eyes.
“It says that no matter what might come to tear us apart, you will always find me.” You smile, reaching up to scratch underneath his chin.
Steve’s lips curl up on one side, a dashing smirk if you ever saw one.
“Always.”
Pseudo Princess Epilogue
08/21/2020
Pairing: King!Steve x Reader Word Count: 6,172
Warnings: fluff, talks of sterilization/infertility
A/N: I did promise a surprise. There were some interactions that I wanted to touch on that I couldn’t fit into the last chapter and this just felt right to write. I hope y’all enjoy. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo
“What have you decided?” You wonder, adjusting Joseph in your arms as they begin to tire.
“We’re going to adopt.” Nat’s smile is genuine and yet, you find there’s a sadness in her eyes that breaks your heart.
She looks at Joseph and stares at him for a moment before reaching across the small space between your chairs to caress his little cheek.
“May I be honest with you?” You hesitate but know that you need to say this in order for that sadness to leave her eyes.
Of course, her sadness is her own and you might only help relieve it. You cannot chase it away for good.
“Of course.” She takes her hand back to place over yours.
“I am so glad that you have decided not to see the witch.” You sigh. “After having lost all of you for over a year, the thought of losing more time knowing that I would have had it…”
“I know.” Nat interrupts softly, tearing her eyes down to her hand in yours. “James is the same. He told me to choose what would make me happy and for a moment I considered very much going to see her, but the forced look of detachment on James’s face was heartbreaking. I don’t want him to feel as if his opinion does not matter to me.
“If we cannot both be of one mind in this choice then it is a choice that I cannot make. We were both decided on adoption before I remembered the witch’s offer so, adoption is the only choice my heart can bear to make.” Nat’s feelings are genuine, and you can see the decision has lifted weight from her shoulders.
“You have known that you could not have children for years. Is this really what you wanted. Having them naturally?” You probe, already knowing her answer. “You know that Bucky does not and has not cared if you could give him natural born children.”
“Why do you know me so well?” She huffs a small laugh. “I wanted to give him the life he deserved.”
“The life he deserves is the one he chooses, love. And he chooses to be with you, just as you are. For him you are not lacking in anything.” You point out, remembering the look of utter worship he gives her every time they’re together.
“I know.” Nat nods, smiling wide albeit a little resigned. “I don’t think I’ve ever truly accepted that and that’s why I became so fixated on giving him a child born of us both.”
You scoot closer to the edge of your seat, adjusting the sleeping Joseph in your arms. Now that you’re closer, you can wrap one arm around her back a little, bringing your face down and closer to her own.
“We all love you, Nat. Just as you are. Any child you raise would be lucky to have you as a mother. I know I’ve said it before, but I cannot impress upon you the sincerity of what I say. Trust me. You are perfect to us. If not the world, then to Bucky and myself. And isn’t that enough?”
Her eyes begin to water, and you have the sudden urge to hug her. Before you can, the door to your sitting room opens. Quickly you wipe away the two tears that roll onto Nat’s cheeks as Peter freezes, his eyes wide with surprise. He’s still got his arms extended, feet still in mid-step.
“Oh,” He gasps. “I’m…I didn’t know you were in here your Majesty. I’m so sorry.”
“Peter!” You exclaim, happy to see him.
His face changes, a wide smile replacing the look of shock on his face.
“Hi.” He replies simply, moving towards you as you rise to your feet and with Joseph carefully balanced in your arms, you wrap Peter up in the other.
“It’s so good to see you. When Steve told me you’d left for Father’s castle I was saddened to be denied our reunion.” You chuckle, trying to keep Joseph as still as possible despite knowing that he will not wake even should you need to grab a sword and fight some random attacker.
“I’m sorry, I had to deliver Steve’s invitations for the feast he has planned for when the estate is completed. Only a few weeks now.” Peter says proudly as you pull back to get a look at his face. He seems to be getting taller still. Just over a year and you’re shocked by his growth.
He’s much bigger in muscle mass too.
“Invitations, sure.” Natasha teases, fixing him with a knowing look.
Peter seems to deflate by her implications which raises many questions in your own head.
To allay your confusion, he leads you back to your seat and helps you to sit.
“Morgana and I have actually parted ways.” He says simply, his voice serious but not melancholy.
“Oh.” Nat exclaims, exchanging with you a quick look of concern. “I hope that it was nothing that cannot be mended?”
Peter takes a step back and reaches up to scratch at the back of his neck.
“She is much happier with our engagement at an end. If I am honest, we have been growing apart the last several months. She has been busy undertaking King Stark’s training and I have been busy in the villages with minor disturbances from remnants of Hydra and their various factions.
“Our friendship is just as strong as it ever was, but I don’t believe romance will be a part of our future.” Peter sighs upset despite his words of assurance.
“Last I remember your romance was only just blooming.” You lament, hating to have lost out on the beauty of their love growing.
Now it’s gone?
“Yes.” Peter smiles. “I had high hopes for us but I’m certain this is the right choice for us both.”
“Is this a choice you both made?” Natasha wonders, worried for the young guard.
“We spoke about it at length and we’re sure that it’s for the best.” Peter nods. “Do not worry. We are both perfectly fine.”
Containing your frown is out of the question but he does look as if their choice is one of certainty and you can’t exactly contradict them if they have found what is right for both of them. Even if it’s a shame that you won’t have Peter as a brother-in-law.
With no choice but to move on, you let Natasha take Joseph from your arms as she moves him into the crib nearby.
You have one in here and one in your bedroom.
“So?” You begin, sitting back with a small grimace at the pain in your back. “What brings you to my sitting room? I know you did not come to see me since you didn’t know I was in here.”
As Natasha tucks Joseph in, she waits with observant eyes as if she’s still trying to decide if Peter has told you both the truth about him and Morgana.
“I was sent in to fetch your sewing basket. His Majesty said that he wanted to show it to me so that I’d know what to buy.” Peter explains, his brow furrowed as he observes the grimace on your face and the strange way you’re sitting.
The flowing gown you wear—slate blue around the shoulders down to the constricting bodice where it shifts and mixes with the peony pink fabric beneath the sheer top layer that then flows down to end in that same soft pink—puddles around you, soft to the touch.
It’s finer than anything you’ve worn in a while and the corset you’re wearing now forces your back straight once more.
You’d forgotten how uncomfortable the clothing you'd worn as Queen of Broklin could be. It was a hybrid of both pleasure and pain as the soft fabrics felt cool and heaven in touch but the stiff undergarments to help you fit into such fine dresses were forcing your body to readjust again.
The attempt to slouch and lean back against your chair in search of comfort does not go unnoticed by your once personal guard. Now rehired as you have returned.
“Are you in a lot of pain?” He worries, taking a step closer. His fists open and close as if he’s warring with wanting to reach out and help.
Everyone has been so attentive, so careful with you these past few days after your reappearance. It isn’t even so much that the clothing is too uncomfortable. The corset is tight indeed, but you were so malnourished when Steve found you again that your body had rejected all the rich foods that he’d sent for.
It wasn’t until Natasha thought to bring you simple unseasoned fish, vegetables, and plain water instead of wine that you managed to eat and retain the nutrition. Slowly they added saltier meats and seasoned vegetables and after five days of no missed meals, you were feeling stronger and more like yourself.
The only thing that weighs heavily on your mind still is your son. So much smaller than your daughter was at his age, or so Steve says.
Your husband cried into your chest for that first torturous night. Blissful yet painful. You were all so happy to be back together, finally you were all complete. The piece of yourself that you’d felt was missing had returned in you both, and still it was not enough.
It was excruciating to see your baby girl so grown. Walking, however clumsily, and talking. Her eyes when she sees you are full of confusion. There is no recognition there. Your heart breaks for the bond that you’ve lost.
For Steve, it was the sight of you and Joseph so feeble. So hungry for care and safety. The jumpiness that you’d developed once more having to watch your every step with Phin and the other village men who’d seen an easy target in an orphaned single mother.
He was devastated to know that you’d suffered the birth of your son alone. He hates to know that you fed on rats in your most desperate hours to keep your little one fed. It tears you apart to see him so agonized over it only to see that even through your efforts your son needed a doctor’s care.
Your body is not strong and because of this, everyone has been vigilant with the slightest change in your mood. Steve and Nat especially. Peter has been informed, clearly.
You meet his eyes and offer a smile.
“No. Not exactly. It’s been over a year. I must adjust again, that’s all.” You explain, refusing to give in to their worries about your health.
You feel much stronger already after less than a week. Your son is also more comfortable and seems to fuss a little more now that he has the energy to do so.
Natasha steps towards you, running her hand along the center of your spine.
“Perhaps I laced you too tightly? Once Peter leaves, I can adjust it and give you some relief.” She offers.
“I’m alright.” You smile, resisting the need to grimace again.
Turning back to Peter, you try to distract them.
“Why have you been tasked with the purchase of a sewing box?” This does the trick and both of them forget your discomfort.
“Oh, well his Majesty wishes to tell you himself. I will tell him you’re here and return as soon as I have what I need.” Peter takes a step back, the eagerness to complete his task pulling him away.
“Very well. Hurry back.” You smile at him fondly, a fond lilt to your words. “I have missed you.”
Peter nods, the corners of his lips turned up as he turns and shuts the doors behind him.
“If you aren’t feeling well, Steve will want to know.” Nat frowns, her hand still resting on your back.
“I’m perfectly alright.” You chuckle, reaching back to take her hand and remove it from your spine. “I would like to take a walk.”
You rise and despite yourself, groan as your body stretches. After so much time sleeping in a lumpy bed of hay, a soft plush mattress feels too firm and soft at the same time.
“Y/N…” Nat chastises.
“My body is sore. I’m not used to these soft beds anymore. They feel good when I first lay in them but after a few hours of sleeping my body becomes stiff. It will pass in time, Nat. I promise. I’m alright. Truly.” You walk away from her as you speak, refusing to be stopped and move towards your baby boy to tuck the blanket in around him.
His little crib is the same one that Maggie had slept in when she’d been an infant and your heart fills with warmth that Steve was right and that you would indeed have use for it once again.
Joseph shifts, his little fists flexing open and shutting once again as he coos then sleeps on.
“Will you stay with him?” You whisper, though you don’t need to. Joseph has slept through the worst storms.
“As you wish.” Nat sighs, moving to sit in the chair she’d placed beside him in case you’d wanted to sit down with him.
“If he gets hungry-” You fret.
“I’ll bring him to you.” She promises. “Go, enjoy your walk.”
You leave her in good spirits, feeling free in the safety of the estate walls after so much time spent looking over your shoulder.
Naturally, you allow your heart to lead you and you find yourself at the door to Maggie’s nursery. You can hear Samuel with her, his laugh mixed with her occasional little scream of excitement.
Slowly you open the door, pressing your hand against the wood to keep it as quiet as possible.
You spot them sitting on the floor amongst a pile of pillows that have been strewn across a large thick blanket. The windows on the far side of the room have been thrown open to allow a gentle breeze to cool the room.
Sam holds a luxurious doll made of soft fabric against his leg, his body relaxed as he leans against the wall beside a small shelf full of other toys made of wood and clay. There are other dolls too.
In front of him sits your toddler, her hands wrapped around a large green leg.
With a gasp you push the door open and stop to find Hulk sitting on the other side of the room taking up almost all of it. His arms are casually resting against his knees as your little girl giggles and reaches around to pinch Hulk’s massive calf.
He growls and she laughs again. Then Hulk laughs, and claps his hands twice shaking the entire room.
“Ha-ha!” He says with amusement in his eyes. “Princess laugh funny.”
You look to Sam, uncertainty gripping your chest and he rises then hurries to meet you by the door.
“Your Majesty.” He bows his head, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Don’t be alarmed, they do this often. He won’t hurt her.”
“Queen Flower!” Hulk shouts, raising his hand to wave then points down at your daughter. “Look! Little Princess laugh funny.”
He lifts his massive leg, taking her with it as she sits on his foot and hugs him tighter. As he drops it, she giggles once.
“Do thing, Princess! Make Hulk angry again.” He orders her and like an obedient puppy, she reaches around and pinches his leg again.
Hulk growls. She laughs. He laughs and claps.
The sight, while frightening at first, fills you with joy.
Your little girl has been happy! You’re so grateful to all of them.
“She likes Bruce too, but she and Hulk have this connection that’s hard to argue with. We can’t keep them apart for long.” Sam explains.
“I’m glad.” You nod.
“He takes care of her. When she cries, he gets upset and won’t stop slamming his fists until she stops. That’s how this began.” Sam gestures at them as they continue to play.
“She was crying?” You fret, watching your little girl for the telltale signs that she had been shedding tears.
“She misses Steve. She cries at least once every time he has to meet with anyone for an extended period of time with affairs of the Kingdom. They’ve been attached at the hip since you disappeared.
“I think he clung to her so tightly because he sensed you in her. He was happy to be with her but he knew that something was missing. We all did, only most of us assumed it was Margaret.
“Steve even insisted once that it wasn’t her and that there was someone else that should be at his side. But he went to sleep and we ignored him. We assumed he was merely distraught. When he woke the next morning, he seemed to have forgotten his theory and we thought we were wise to move on.” Sam smiles, shrugging his shoulders as he fixes you with his sheepish grin. “Sorry.”
You and Steve haven’t talked much about your time apart that does not involve the children. Hearing that he'd felt as lost as you had during your separation eases the small bit in your heart that still wonders if Steve is truly in love with you.
“It’s of no importance.” You assure him. “We are together again now. That’s all that matters.”
“Maggie, look who’s here.” Sam calls to her, waiting for her to exclaim in delight at the sight of you.
While you know better.
As you expect she turns to look at you, her little eyes searching your face for recognition and it comes slowly. It isn’t the recognition of a mother yet but she still releases Hulk's leg and with unsteady feet rises and wanders over towards you.
“Hello my sweet flower.” Your heart expands at least fifty sizes—no, a hundred!—as you squat down to be closer to her.
She stumbles as she reaches you but falls into your arms with a giggle that you echo as you wrap your arms around her and lift her to your lap.
She's still so small. A baby. Your baby.
“I was just about to go take a walk in the garden. I want to see all the pretty flowers that your papa planted. Would you like to come with me, little flower?” You wait as she watches your mouth when you’ve finished speaking.
Her own moves silently as she reaches up to fidget with her ear as she thinks about it.
You’ve spent as much time as you can with her these past five days and because you’re in her places of home—her Papa's bed, his presence every moment that he can spare, at his dining table right beside him, in the bath while he sits with her in his lap and the two of you talk.
You’ve bathed her with you and tucked her in. Kissed her cheeks and chastised her when her tantrums grew insolent.
You have made yourself a thorn in her side but a place to seek comfort too.
So, when she turns back to you and places her little hands on your cheeks before wrapping them around your neck, you are ecstatic.
Sam helps you to your feet as Hulk rises and grumbles.
“Queen Flower steal funny baby. Hulk hate Queen Flower!” He says passionately before giving a great hurumph and springing through the large open window.
You watch him go with your mouth slightly open. Maggie turns to wave as Hulk disappears and Sam shakes his head.
“Ba-ba-ba!” Maggie calls out after him, her little hand limp as she swings her arm up and down.
“He doesn’t really hate you. He tells all of us that when we take her.” Sam relays and you’re surprised to feel a wave of relief that Hulk is also just throwing a tantrum.
“I’ve left Nat with Joseph while he sleeps. Will you tell her to bring him down when he wakes? I’d love to have them together. She’s still unsure of him I think.” You’ve noticed your little girl is jealous when Steve holds your son and you want them to love each other despite their time apart.
“Of course. Enjoy your walk, your Majesty. I’ll send a guard down for you as well. Steve would not like you two out in the gardens by yourselves.”
“Thank you, Sam. Are you ready my princess?”
~~~~~~~~~~
It’s been nearly four hours of warm morning sun spent with your daughter in the fragrant peony garden that Steve had built in the estate gardens.
Waves of pink sway in the sultry summer breeze and Maggie’s little legs falter as she inches towards you, her small fist rubbing sleepily at her eye.
She’d spent the morning running after you, giggling loudly before screaming with excitement. She’d fallen many times, then risen and continued the chase. You’d let her catch you and fall to the ground to embrace her before she squirmed from your arms to indicate your turn to chase.
Her adorable antics were topped when she managed to crawl underneath your skirts, painting the bottom her dress—which once again, matches your own just as they had before you’d lost time—green as she rolled around on the soft pea-green blades of grass.
When she tired you two sat in the shade of a large oak giving you a much-needed respite from the blazing sun. She was up after only ten minutes, however. Energetic baby that she is.
All the while, at the edges of the tall blue hydrangea and wine butterfly bush, just out of sight is your guard. Five men circling the outside of the long garden. Out of sight so that they do not disturb you and Maggie though often you catch them peeking over the hedge to catch glimpses of the little miss.
She’s just as popular as she was before you lost her.
Halfway through your walk, Natasha joins you with Joseph. A blanket spread out beneath the oak where she’d sat with him while you played with Maggie.
Stopping, you admire her as she walks towards you. She’s the spitting image of her father and when you’d once thought her lips resembled your own, you can now see that she’s turning into Steve more and more every day.
“Muh-muh-muh…” She mumbles, and your heart skips a beat. “Muh-muh…”
As she reaches you, she lifts her arms towards you, her little rosebud lips fixed into a cranky pout.
“Oh, my sweet girl.” You gush, ducking down to pick her up before you cradle her against your chest. She’s heavy compared to Joseph but you don’t care. You will suffer through aching arms to hold her close.
She immediately lays her head on your shoulder and wraps her arms around her neck again, her eyes closing as you caress the back of her head tenderly.
“Were you attempting to call me ‘Mama’?” You whisper, but she’s already asleep.
With her dozing, you move back towards the oak where Joseph lays on his back playing with his feet.
“Are you hungry?” Natasha wonders, already pushing up onto her knees and grabbing her skirts in preparation.
“A little.” You confess, but I can wait until Maggie wakes before we head back inside.”
“Would you like Steve to kill me for not feeding you?” Nat walks to meet you and then reaches to caress Maggie’s head as she stops beside you. “I’ll see what I can find for us. Will you be alright with them both?”
She seems to really be worried about whether you can handle your children alone and perhaps if you were at your strongest you’d be offended, but you take her words for what they are—love for you.
“Of course I can.” You assure her. “Maggie’s asleep.”
She tilts her head quickly, looking skeptical before she turns and leaves for the house.
As you approach your little boy who has taken to a constant cooing, you wonder how you’ll manage to put Maggie down beside him when you hear a call from the garden gate.
“Y/N!” He calls, deep but vibrant.
His voice is like a siren’s song and you stop and turn without hesitation.
Steve. Your heart is suddenly pounding and you’re eager to see his beautiful face.
As you turn to look, he’s already close, turning his sprint into a jog. His lips are stretched into a happy smile. His eyes are bright, blue as storm clouds, but happy to see you. No, ecstatic. No, he’s full of life at the sight of you, looking as if he’s just quenched a terrible thirst.
“I’ve been all over the estate looking for you.” He gives one long inhale and a quick exhale of breath as if he’s only just catching it.
Had he literally run around looking for you?
“I’m here.” You return his smile. “With our little ones.”
Steve’s cheeks blush a vibrant pink before he takes a half-step towards you and leans in, wrapping his right arm around your waist as he rushes to meet your lips with chaste but hungry kiss.
There’s a need behind his lips that doesn’t equate to desire, and you wonder what it is that he’s searching for.
For you, the press of his mouth against your own sends rapid flutters from your toes to the top of your head making all of your thoughts fuzzy.
As he pulls away, he places both hands on either side of your face. His thumbs are a gentle caress against your skin. His eyes devour your confuddled expression, a look of amusement turning his lips up once more.
“I missed that expression.” He tells you and embarrassment makes you huff a small laugh.
“You’re impossible.”
Steve chuckles.
With your greeting out of the way, his eyes find the baby in your arms then the one on the blanket.
Joseph has also spotted him and has taken to kicking in excitement, his little eyes wide and his mouth a small o as he spews out more goos and coos.
“Did my princess fall asleep?” Steve reaches for her, expertly taking her from you she doesn’t even stir.
“We’ve been out here all morning.” You tell him and with your arms free, you quickly move to Joseph’s side, grabbing him and sitting him upon your lap so that he might look at his papa with more ease.
It only makes him kick faster and you chuckle as he squirms.
“I think your prince would also like your embrace.” You adjust him again, a sigh of relief escaping you after your laugh.
It doesn’t escape Steve’s notice. As he sits himself down on the blanket with you, he places Maggie beside him, stroking her chest to make certain she remains asleep.
“You’re tired.” He frowns but takes Joseph when you lean over and offer him.
He places him between his legs facing him, but when he whines and leans towards him with his little arms reaching, Steve picks him back up and gives him his all his attention while he waits for you to respond.
“We have been enjoying the length of the garden.” You explain, scooting closer to Maggie and moving the hair away from her little face. “Which reminds me, why was it that you made a peony garden even when you did not remember me?”
Steve turns to you, allowing Joseph to push against his lap with his little legs, then looks up towards the branches while he thinks.
As his mind wanders, you admire the sight of him. He looks regal in his short-sleeved cream-colored tunic, the neckline high with tan embroidery along the edge of the seam at the front. It leaves his muscular arms exposed, sinew shifting beneath the smooth golden peach of his skin as your son kicks and Steve keeps him rooted to his spot.
His hair is short once more, trimmed for the heat of the season but his beard is as thick as ever.
Brown trousers and dark brown boots complete his casually regal look and he has never looked so good.
“I don’t think I could properly explain it. The garden back home was full of them around Margaret’s—that is, your pavilion. I knew it as Margaret’s with my memory of you gone.” He fixes his words though you feel only the faintest of shifts in your gut of the old jealousy and resentment you’d felt at the mention of Margaret. “I had no memory of changing her flower for them, but I knew that the reason for it was vital. Then as time went on, I craved the scent of them. Maggie and I would spend hours in your garden. I think even she felt your absence. She was more peaceful whenever we were there where the flowers reminds us both of your pleasing scent.”
You laugh, unable to help yourself.
“What?” Steve turns to you, adjusting Joseph in his arms as the little one tires out and yawns. With his little head resting against Steve’s chest, he begins to drift to sleep. “Why are you always laughing at the things I say?”
You take a few more moments to let the laugh flow, then shake your head.
“I’m not. I’m just…I only began to use scented oils and soaps when I accepted father’s task to marry you. If you want a true example of what I smell like, think back to the moment you met me on the road just days ago.” You explain.
Steve thinks back, the small crease between his eyes deep as he tries to remember.
“You smelled like hay. A little bit like sweat and earth, but also like Joseph. But there was also the scent of peonies in your hair, despite what you say. Perhaps it has become engrained into your very being after soaking in so many baths with it.” Steve smiles, his eyes glazed over as if he’s thinking about it.
The shift of his lips is a little coy, and the pink tint returns with vibrancy to his cheeks.
“Why are you blushing?” You narrow your eyes at him, certain you know exactly what it is he’s thinking.
“I’m not blushing.” He shakes his head, a look of denial plastered across his chiseled features.
“You are. How can you think of me in the bath with our children sleeping right beside us?” You demand, your face fixed into mock shock.
Steve blinks, at a loss at your accusation because it’s probably true.
“What? I am not-I don’t-I haven’t-You don’t-” He sputters, flustered by your flirting.
You chuckle and refocus on your daughter, admiring the way she breathes as she sleeps while thinking with amusement about the amount of times you’ve bathed with your little ones since returning and Steve having joined you often.
“Your Majesties!” From the garden gate Peter rushes, one arm wrapped around a wicker basket, the other carrying a rectangular box sealed with twine.
That must be the sewing kit.
“That took you all morning.” You observe as he approaches then stops at the edge of your blanket and gives you both a quick bow.
“Yes, I wanted to be sure I purchased the correct one.” Peter explains, but Steve’s eyes are on the basket.
“What is that?” He gestures at it, then fixes his gaze on the young knight.
“Oh, Natasha sent me with a lunch. Cold meats and a few mince pies. There’s a jug of wine and a gourd of water in there for her majesty.” He holds it out and Steve takes it, placing it near you.
“Eat.” He says simply. “While you can do so comfortably with the children sleeping.”
He’s probably right. You begin to pull the food from the basket and portion it out onto two small wooden plates Natasha had placed in the basket.
“Where shall I put the kit, your Majesty? The den?” Peter wonders, holding the box with both arms now that they’re free.
“Yes, that seems-” He begins but then stops as the heavy sound of a guard’s armor approaches.
All of you turn to look in his direction.
Behind him follows a girl who looks to be about Peter’s age. Her beauty is undeniable though she walks awkwardly in the simple gray gown she wears. It isn’t anything fancy but probably the nicest dress she owns.
Still nicer than anything you ever owned before you married Steve.
Her hair is long, falling to her waist in a stunning number of braids. Her brown skin shines golden under the summer sun, her eyes a sharp inky black yet wider than normal with the nervous energy you can see flowing through her. Although her facial features are small, they’re also sharp, brows wide and angular.
“She’s finally here.” Steve exclaims, making to rise before he realizes that he’s still cradling Joseph to his chest and sits back down.
“Your Majesty, this girl says she is here for a job?” The guard offers, and gestures to the lovely young lady at his side.
“Yes, thank you. You may go.” Steve dismisses him and waits for him to depart before he addresses the girl. “Hello again, Miss Jones. You’re right on time.”
Miss Jones takes hold of her skirts and quickly ducks into a curtsy as if just remembering she should be doing so.
“I hope I am not intruding.” She says nervously.
“Not at all.” Steve nods. “This is my wife and Queen. You will report directly to her from this day forth.”
“What?!” You gasp, so surprised your smile vanishes. “Report to me?”
“I have hired Miss Jones to assist you with the children. She will be your second lady in waiting to assist you when and if you should need someone and Natasha is not around or has other things to do.” Steve says pointedly. “You shall do whatever her majesty requires but she’s awfully selfless and terrible with implementing her authority so you might have to read into her needs a bit more than I made it sound like when we met before.”
As all of you look back to Miss Jones, you find that she’s still in her curtsy, her legs probably shaking as she teeters from side to side.
“Y-you don’t have to keep bowing.” Peter tells her and she snaps out of it, nearly toppling over as she stands up straight.
“Right,” Miss Jones says, now standing awkwardly before she decides to give you all a tight anxious smile. “I will do everything I can to serve you with honor, your Majesties.”
Steve looks pleased and after a few more moments of considering the girl, you relax.
“Thank you.” You nod. “I will do my best to be as little a burden as I can be.”
“See?” Steve shakes his head and Miss Jones smiles a little more genuinely. “For now, I think you should rest. You must be tired after your journey. Tomorrow you may commence your duties but for now, Peter? Will you show Miss Jones to her quarters?”
Miss Jones curtsies again as Peter bows. “Yes, your Majesty.”
“Thank you, your majesties.”
For a moment they both stand there awkwardly, waiting for the other to walk. Peter gestures towards the estate and Miss Jones seems to turn but is uncertain if she should. As he begins to walk, she gathers her skirts a bit so that she might walk beside him with steady feet.
You watch them steal several glances at each other. Miss Jones especially watches Peter with an uncertain but curious gaze.
“Oh, this is for you.” Peter tells her and holds out her sewing kit.
“Thank you.” Miss Jones says, taking the box.
“I can carry it for you.” Peter offers.
“Oh…” Miss Jones hands him the box again and they walk on.
As they reach the garden gate, their voices are faint, but you can just make out what they’re saying as they disappear through the hedge.
“Your gown is lovely.” Peter tells her, nervous for a moment as he offers the compliment.
“Would you like to borrow it?” Miss Jones asks, her face serious as she awaits his answer.
“What?” Peter stops walking, fixing her with a dumbfounded look.
“A jest.” She tells him, stopping too.
“Oh.” Peter smiles and nearly laughs but continues to walk. “Right.”
Miss Jones smiles. “Yes. It wouldn’t fit you. Your shoulders are too wide.”
“What are you smiling about?” Steve wonders, pulling your attention away from Peter and Miss Jones while he lays Joseph down beside Maggie.
You offer him a plate of food, shrugging as your smile grows wider.
“Life has a strange way of giving us just what we need when we need it.” You realize, looking at all three of the loves of your life.
“Just as life brought you to me, do you mean?” Steve nods. “Yes. Just what I needed.”
Pseudo Princess Pt.34
A Little Spell
07/20/2020
Pairing: King!Steve x Reader Word Count: 6,799
Warnings: smut, language, FLUFF, cute babies, slight angst
A/N: Enjoy! I’ve had fun with this one. As always if you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work.
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Please do not REPOST my work on any other sites or blogs. REBLOGS are welcome!
Spring has awoken in Broklin. The sky is blue once more. Small tufts of cotton clouds fly by overhead as you walk with Maggie in your arms. She’s little, only three months, and aging with the peony blossoms in your gardens.
She wears one in her soft hay colored hair, carefully pinned by her Godmother Natasha this morning.
As she gawks at a flying bird, her chubby baby arms stretched out as if to touch it, your mind has a fleeting thought as you think about Nat, as it does every time you think of her.
What is he not telling me?
You remember it like it were only last night, Steve and Sam racing from your bedroom with a scroll crushed in Steve’s right hand.
He’d come back hours later looking tired and worried for only a moment as he walked into the room and then he’d smiled at you as you sat up, your little girl pressed to your breast as she fed.
He’d laid down beside you and kissed Maggie’s little feet just to hear her fuss a little and then laid with his eyes shut. Thinking things that you wanted but couldn’t know. Wouldn’t know. Still don’t know.
You’d known better at the time than to ask him what all of his rushing around had been about and instead settled Maggie between the two of you after she’d fed and only after he was asleep had you moved her into her cradle.
Steve had wrapped his arms around you in his sleep as you’d moved closer to him and it had chased away any fretting you’d had at the prospect of more trouble.
Despite the fear that had begun to grow in your mind, your worries seem to be unfounded as nothing has happened to alarm you or, really, anyone in the Kingdom.
“Sister!”
The call shatters your thoughts back to this blissful spring day and you turn to see Morgana moving quickly towards you, one hand holding up her pale green dress. The little vines etched along her collar and sleeves stand out in dark green and earthy brown.
“Morgana, your Majesty.” Peter states, moving towards Morgana and give her a quick bow while she too stops to greet him.
“Hello, Peter!” She smiles, then hurries back to you while Peter leaves you two to wait by the garden entrance.
You inspect your work—her dress—worried about the state of the stitching as she flounces about, but it’s holding up very well.
“Morgana, I thought you were in your lessons until the afternoon?” You chastise, eyes narrowed suspiciously as Maggie gasps in excitement, coos, and kicks her legs so quickly that you have to adjust her dress around her little feet. She’s a vision in pale blue to compliment the rosy pink peony in her hair.
Your own dress a stunning yellow, and a ribbon around your waist to match the color of Maggie’s dress.
With a little one, you have had to learn to keep your hair up or tied back. Grandmother had insisted on a braid this morning. Long with peonies also wound through to match your daughter.
For the most part, you don’t understand the fuss everyone has been making over the two of you looking so coordinated but apparently it is a tradition of the kingdom for a Queen and her child to set an example of “unity” . How exactly clothes show this, you have no idea.
“Hello little Maggie.” Morgana gushes then opens her arms to take her.
Handing your daughter over, you adjust her dress as Morgana gets her comfortable.
“Don’t ignore me, Morgana.” You warn her, with love of course.
“I’m not ignoring you.” She huffs. “I’m merely using my beautiful niece to avoid answering the question.”
You laugh. A confession you had not been expecting.
“What are you doing here?” You demand, still chuckling as the two of you resume your walk through the winding hedges of your now wild garden.
All these flowers once grouped with their own species and rigorously kept apart before were now in a truly wild blend of organized chaos.
“I finished early and the Master asked if I would like to proceed to the next lesson or spend the day on my own…” She begins.
“And naturally you decide that the day is better spent with Maggie and I?”
“Of course!” Morgana smiles, tickling Maggie’s little tummy. “Isn’t that right, Princess?”
“You should have gotten a head start on your lessons.” You reason.
“And miss out on this beautiful day? I don’t think so. Besides, my brother-in-law would like to see you. It looks like a meeting.” Morgana says, knowing that you will know what she means. “He sent me down to fetch you, and to take little Maggie back upstairs for her nap.”
“Has something happened?” You panic, stopping to look at her with wide eyes.
Maybe you were getting too comfortable too soon?
“I don’t know.” She laughs. “Father tells me nothing and mother insists that I stay out of all Avenging business.”
“They’re right, Morgana…I’m so glad that you weren’t anywhere near during the battle.” You worry. “Or Shuri. I’m glad she and her brother had to go back home before anything could happen.”
“They could have helped. The Black Panther is very skilled. And powerful.” Morgana reasons.
“He is.” You nod. “But I would have everyone be safe rather than risk the dangers of the castle that night.”
“You make it sound so terrifying.” She tells you, not realizing that you’d left out a chunk of compelling story when you’d recounted the events of the night.
“It was.” You assure her.
“Sister, even if it was scary, don’t you think that all of the Avengers fought for a reason? They all want to protect you. And my brother-in-law fights for more than just you and Maggie. He fights for the freedom of his kingdom.”
She thinks a moment, and smiles. “But mostly for you. You should see the way he watches you and Maggie. There’s a fear in his expression that I don’t understand. Almost a yearning. Even Nat says that she does not remember him ever looking at anyone so.”
“I don’t want anyone fighting for me, Morgana. I want everyone to be safe.”
There must be something in your eyes as you insist because she nods, understanding.
“Where were they?” You move on, eager to forget the night of Maggie’s birth.
“It’s only Steve, Sam, Bucky, and Natasha.” She informs you, making sure you know it isn’t the entire team. “They’re waiting for you in Steve’s den.”
“Can you manage Margaret?” You wonder, waiting to see what she’ll say.
Morgana rolls her eyes, “Of course, I can! Now go.”
With a bite to your bottom lip you quickly lean in and press a kiss to Maggie’s cheek.
She turns towards you as you pull away. Eyes wide and hands and feet flailing and kicking in excitement.
“I’ll see you shortly my pretty girl.” You coo at her then head towards the castle at a hastened pace.
As you pass the gate you move to Peter’s side with a pleading look.
“Will you stay and watch over her?” You fuss, worried about leaving Morgana alone with Maggie. Not that you don’t trust her, but you’re a little more wary now after so many close calls.
“I-” Peter begins, ready to defy you in favor of protecting you. He’s your personal guard!
“Please, Peter. I need to know that I can trust you to protect her if I cannot be around.” You plead.
Peter watches your expression then glances behind you towards Maggie and Morgana.
“Of course, your Majesty. I will protect them both with my life.” He promises, easing the worries in your heart.
You hurry on, but just as you reach the door you look back at your daughter once more and find Morgana helping her wave her tiny clenched fist as she mouths Bye-bye momma! Peter joining them with a small jog.
As he stops beside them, Morgana’s gaze is diverted, and her cheeks fill with a rosy tint.
You return their small wave and allow your feet to carry you faster through the castle towards Steve’s den.
On the second floor you pass Sharon nestled into a small library with her nose in a book.
You stop, warring with your two halves. The one side of you is eager to greet her and ask her to accompany you to this new meeting that you’ve suddenly been summoned for when you’re so often left in the dark about Avengers matters. You’re grateful to her for saving your life and the life of your little girl.
Then there’s the second half. The wife half. The woman within you that remembers the sight of her nestled in against Steve’s chest. The stern set of her jaw when you staked your claim for him and then the feeble attempt at an apology that so clearly had meant nothing at the time.
Your jealousy is moderate now. It doesn’t rear its head like a starving monster anymore, but it’s still there. You are Steve’s and he belongs to you. You’ve rarely felt the need to make it clear that you belong to each other. When you see Sharon being one of those occasions.
With a quick breath, cut short by a determined huff from your gnawed-on lips, you stifle the urge to claim and instead allow the friendlier side to move you into the room.
“Sharon?”
Sharon blinks, searching for you with wide eyes still dazed by her book.
“Oh,” She smiles, rising as she sets her books aside.
She curtsies as you stop before her, hands placed gently at your front as you try to stand the way Nat has taught you. Regal. Or as close to it as you can manage. You’re still unconvinced that you can pull this royalty business off.
You know you’re Queen and you make no arguments about it, but you’re fairly certain that Sharon—and other women like her, Nat included—will always look more the part of nobility than you do.
“Your Majesty, good morning.” Sharon greets, rising and matching your pose but clearly more relaxed.
“Good morning. I hope you’re well?” You begin, hoping the pleasantries aren’t unwelcomed.
“I’m very well, my lady. Thank you for asking.” She smiles again, a bit softer.
“I was wondering, why aren’t you with the others in Steve’s office?”
“I, my lady?” Sharon asks, genuinely confused as she presses her hand to her chest. The pale silk orange dress is elegant but fitting of the weather. The dark purple roses that flow upwards into a cluster in the pattern draw the eye to her bust, just as her hand does.
“I was sent for by Steve just now.” You explain.
“I-I’ve been in here all morning. All night even. It might be possible that they sent for me, but no one knows where I am. This has always been a good place to hide.” She confesses and her smile widens.
“Well, why don’t you accompany me? Whatever schemes they have you will no doubt be an asset. Indeed, I don’t know why they’ve sent for me. I’m…I couldn’t possibly be of much help.” You shake your head, relaxing a little more with every word you speak.
“I think it likely that his Majesty wants to keep you apprised of the events in the Kingdom.” Sharon ponders. “After what happened at King Anthony’s castle, he’d be a fool to keep you in the dark.”
You hadn’t though of that. Steve is summoning you to keep you informed? He never has before.
Once again, your mind is dragged back to the day of Thor’s visit and Sam’s urgent scroll.
You must have gone into a daze while your mind ran with thoughts because Sharon clears her throat, pulling you from your own ponderings.
“Your Majesty?” She checks, wary.
“Sorry.” You smile again. “I’m sorry. Will you come?”
Gesturing towards the door you take a tentative step as you await her choice.
“Of course!” She exclaims, rushing to open the door fully for you.
“You don’t have to-”
“Please.” She states simply, and you don’t refuse her.
The two of you walk together, Sharon a half step behind you—as she should be with you as Queen—in surprisingly comfortable silence.
When you reach the wing that you and Steve live in, you clear your throat, walking a little slower with his den visible at the end of the hall.
“I’m glad you decided to stay a little longer with us.” You tell her quietly.
“As am I, your Majesty.” She smiles. “Seeing you run the castle and the introductions with the court and the people…I hope Maggie won’t turn in her grave, but you do this job better than she ever did.”
“Oh?” You’re not exactly surprised by her statement. Steve has often told you this himself, but to hear it come from two people who loved Margaret the most and knew her the best really speaks volumes.
“Maggie was always focused on the world. It’s good to see someone care about just this Kingdom. It wasn’t in ruins or anything when she was in rule, but it has truly prospered under your care. And your attentions to its people force Steve to also consider those closer to home.
“There will always be an evil out there for us to fight. I think he used to forget those that depend on him waiting right here.” Sharon ponders, not really asking any questions just making observations.
“You’re too kind.” You smile. “It has truly been my honor to serve. To help.”
“Serve?” She asks, confused.
“Isn’t that what we do? Steve and I?” You think aloud. “We are here to provide a service. That service is indispensable. We provide stability and structure to the lives of everyone in Broklin. We were placed here to not only rule, but to help and to take care of those who need us. We are called to serve our people in the best ways we are able.
“There can be no service more important to perform in all the world.” You shrug, as if it should be the most obvious thing in the world.
Sharon huffs a small laugh, not in sarcasm, but surprise.
“What?” You stop, turning to look at her with your hands carefully placed at your front. “What have I said?”
“You truly put us all to shame, your Majesty.” She states, looking into your eyes with a sparkle of sincerity. “There are sovereigns that would say the exact opposite. That it is the duty of the people to serve their King and Queen.”
“And it is.” You agree. “We are a carriage wheel, the people and us. In order for us to carry forward, we all must do our parts. It’s why I chose to marry Steve despite never having known him.
“I love him now, but when I agreed to marry him, I had no idea who he was. My father needed me to be dutiful and I was.” You smile. “We serve the people and they serve us in turn. We cannot have one without the other. Kingdoms fall every day to famine, disease, discontent among the people…one cannot expect to take and take without giving something in return.”
“Yes.” Sharon nods, “I see that now. And I’m sure Steve has seen it too. You’re teaching him well.”
You laugh, finding it silly that you could teach Steve anything that he doesn’t already know.
“Come on, before they grow impatient.”
As the two of you approach the door, you spot Grandmother leaning against the wall just outside the door, her hand on her chest and her eyes shut tight as if she’s struggling with a pain of some kind.
“Your Majesty?” Sharon probes as you slow just outside the door.
“Go on in.” You tell her, “I’ll be right in.”
Sharon nods and joins the others while you approach grandmother, a sudden realization fills you with dread.
Grandmother is old. And as much as you’ve grown used to her care, she will not always be with you.
“Grandmother? Are you alright?” You check, easing closer before placing your hand on her back carefully.
She’s lost so much weight recently that her dresses have begun to fit her loose. You’ll have more made for her.
“Shall I send for a doctor?” You ask, ear growing.
“No.” She says, withered voice shaking with a trembling breath.
“What’s the matter?” You wonder, placing reassuring hands on the sides of her arms.
She looks up at you, her eyes boring into your own and you can see it all in the reflection.
She’s terrified. This old woman, fearless in the face of a full on battle, is scared.
“Will you not confide in me?” You fret.
“No.” She says, eyes narrowed as she considers you and her legs grow stronger. “Not until I see it all.”
You’re confused by her words but try not to dwell on them.
“Let me at least get you a glass of water.” You insist.
“I said no, girl. Get back to your duties and leave me be.” She grumbles and pushes around you, muttering something under her breath as she reaches into one of her hidden pockets and pulls from within it a small vial of glittering powder.
You watch her until she’s out of sight, your mind trying to make sense of what little she said, but you can’t. You never could with Grandmother. Why was she out here to begin with? Had she been part of the meeting up until now?
Inside Steve’s den, you find Natasha sitting on one of the plain seats by his desk, Bucky beside her, arms crossed as he stares at a map spread out across Steve’s desk.
Sam is leaning against the desk, one hand along the edge while he points at a cluster of black iron houses near the corner. Sharon, sits in the chair beside Nat giving the impression that Sam must have given the seat up for her when she entered.
Your husband sits in his large chair behind the desk, his elbow on the wooden arm. His right hand covers his mouth while he taps a finger on the other deep in thought.
All of them turn to look at you as you enter. Sam straightens up, Natasha and Sharon both rise to their feet, and Bucky drops his arms. Steve however is transfixed on the map, eyes blazing with storm clouds as his mind fixates on whatever problem has gathered them all into this room.
“No, please…” You tell the others and they relax, taking up their previous positions.
You edge your way over to Steve and almost on instinct he opens his left arm to greet you beside him, turning his chair before he pulls you into his lap without sparing you a glance.
Normally you might protest the open affection in front of your closest friends but as you sit and he wraps his arm around your waist, there’s a needy weight to his embrace that tells you in this moment he must feel you there with him.
You recognize it and it makes you nervous. Fearful of what is troubling him.
“Is it bad?” You ask, looking only at him.
He takes a deep breath and then releases it slowly but doesn’t utter a word.
“Bucky?” You turn to him and wait as he shakes his head then nods to Sam.
“They’re here.” Sam says, leaning over the map again to point at the same cluster of black iron houses. “In this village. Abandoned long ago. All of the structures are crumbling. Decayed. If they’re not overgrown with vegetation, they’re soggy with mold and moss. Thor says there are at least three dozen soldiers left.”
“Hydra?” You ask, surprised you could find the breath in your body to do so.
“We thought that Captain Danvers had killed Rumlow, but it appears that he escaped before she could finish the job. He’s taken what’s left of their numbers here to regroup and rebuild.” Sam explains.
“Then we go after them.” Sharon says passionately.
“Thor says that rushing in would be reckless.” Bucky says. “They have something there. A weapon unlike any he’s ever seen before. It turns men into mindless slaves with a single touch. It shoots out an energy that he has never seen.
“And there’s no way to guarantee that they would still be there, even if we went now.”
“Where is Thor?” You wonder, looking around as if he might appear form the shadows.
“Searching.” Nat says. “For information on the power they possess.”
“We have to do this carefully. I won’t risk open war. Not with these villages here surrounding them on all three sides and the border on their back. They could slip into the Kingdom to the south and start a war between our kingdoms.” Steve shakes his head. “We’ll take a day, come up with a few strategies. We must move but we must do so correctly.”
“I thought they were gone.” You lament, starting at the cluster of houses.
Your tone finally brings Steve’s gaze to you and he wraps his arm around you more tightly.
“And they are.” He assures you. “This is what’s left of them. They’re weakened and if we do this properly, we might finally be able to eradicate the world of Hydra.”
“Cut off one head, two more shall take its place.” Bucky says solemnly drawing everyone’s eye.
Steve is frowning, his hands gripping the fabrics of your dress above your thigh as he considers his childhood friend.
“Then we’ll rip out their hearts.” He declares before immediately stifling the rage that filled his chest. “We need to take that weapon away from them and then we can kill them once and for all. We can’t wait for Thor.”
Nat gets to her feet and Bucky drops his arms. “We should at least give him a week to return before we attack. We need to know what we’re facing.”
Steve considers this, “I’ll give him three days. It’s all we can afford. Any more time and we may as well send them the numbers to withstand us.
“You and Nat take the rest of the day for yourselves, enjoy each other and tomorrow begin recruiting amongst the guard. Anyone skilled in deceit. They should also be able to hold their own against either of you.”
Nat nods and heads for the door. Bucky hesitates but quickly follows his wife out, leaving the door open.
“Sam, ride for Malibia and see if Tony can come back and whether Lord and Lady Lang are still present at his castle.” Sam nods, then leaves too.
“Shall I reach out to Fury?” Sharon wonders, pushing herself to the edge of her seat.
“No.” Steve shakes his head. “They’re racing after a separate faction of Hydra supporters. We’ll let them do their work. I want you to go to the East tower.”
“Wanda?” She asks, curious but unsurprised. “You want me to train her?”
“I want you to question her.” Steve clarifies. “She and her brother were part of Hydra. They were created by Hydra. If anyone might know what this mystery weapon is, it will be them.”
Sharon rises and rushes out with a curtsy leaving you and Steve alone in his office.
Your eyes dance around the now empty room, stopping on the curtained off corner that had been Margaret’s reading nook.
The jealousy you feel is almost imperceptible. He’s had it sectioned off for so long that you’re certain he did it to either keep you out or shield it from view so that he might move on without being reminded of his first love.
“Are you worried?” He asks, drawing your gaze back down to meet his own.
“Only because I wish this were over.” You shake your head, reaching up to trace the shape of his cheek and then slide your hands into his soft and slightly unwashed golden head of hair. “But it will never be over, will it?”
Steve’s face is serious, pained in a way, but only because he can see your distress. “No.”
His agreement weighs your heart down and you settle into his arms a little sadly.
He wraps you up in them, pulling you so close that you might as well be fused with how he’s got you tucked in against his chest. You shut your eyes and rest your head on his shoulder, tucking it underneath his chin when he adjusts it to rest it against your head.
“Oh, my sweet flower.” He whispers. “I’m sorry that I cannot be normal for you.”
His lament gives you pause, making your heart ache for an entirely different reason.
“Steve…” You push yourself back up, searching for his storm blue eyes which you find full of sorrow. “…I would not want you to be anyone but who you are.”
He considers your words for a few moments while you renew the caress to his head.
“Wouldn’t you prefer it if I were a normal king? No Avengers? No strange enemies with strange abilities?” He wonders. “I know that even my own abilities might be a little troublesome. I know that I can be a little heavy handed.”
“Steve,” You stop him, taking his face in both your hands and turn him to face you. “I would not change one single thing about you. Not your strange addiction to salted pork with that cherry glaze Cook makes. Not the wrinkles around your eyes when you laugh. Not the strength in your body or the smiles that greet me in the morning. Not the love you will always hold for Margaret, despite your declarations to the opposite.”
You drop your voice so that it is low and only for his ears, even though you’re very much alone.
“And most definitely not those heavy hands that pin me to our bed.”
His cheeks flush pink and it makes you so proud to make him blush that you chuckle once.
“I love every inch of you. Yes, I worry but only because I’ve seen you beaten and bloody. I’ve tended your wounds and watched you flinch. I’ve waited at your bedside in fear that you would never wake. I’m afraid that someone will take you from me and I’m not sorry for that. I can’t pretend that this life is not without risk and that very risk might one day take you from me and Maggie. I would wipe the world of evil if I could, but I know that I cannot so, I will worry every day for the rest of my life because I love you.
“That’s not a bad thing.”
Steve sighs heavily, hating your words. He leans forward, pressing his forehead against your chest as his hands trace the shape of your back, rubbing it to give you comfort.
“I wish I could give you a life without strife.” He cries, voice muffled against your breast.
“Oh, my darling, there is no woman, no wife or mother in this world that lives without strife. Perhaps mine is a little more elevated with so much hanging in the balance, as Queen and also the wife of the Captain, but I do not regret my choices. I would gladly marry you and endure all of my hardships over and over again if it meant that I could have this moment. Our daughter safe with her Aunt and you with your arms around me.”
Steve smiles at you, sappy and pure.
“I’ll be careful.” He promises.
You throw your head back and laugh, your hands gripping his shoulders to keep from falling off his lap.
“What?” He asks in humored shock. “What’s humorous in my promise?”
“Just swear to me that you will return to me in a somewhat decent state. One which I can nurse you through and I will gladly wait forever for you.” You can’t expect him to make promises he can’t keep and for him to be careful…well, you know better.
“I love you.” He tells you, voice deep and low.
His sudden declaration sends massive butterflies into the pit of your belly and your heart does a dance. It robs you of breath and you lick your lips and swallow the lump forming.
“Even after seeing me as I gave birth to Maggie? You love me after that?” You wonder, knowing the sight it must have been.
“No woman on this world is stronger or more capable than you, my petal. I could not have done what you did to bring her into being and I will worship at your feet for sacrificing so much to bring her to us.” He gushes, genuine and intense in his expression despite the lovesick flow of his words.
How long will this last? How long will he really love you in this way?
You know it all fades eventually. You’re not a fool. You’ll be glad if you and Steve love each other half as well as Tony and Pepper when you two have been married as long.
He pulls you down to kiss him and you give him what he needs and what you so desperately want. You think back to every time he pulled away from you, despising you for touching him just after you were married. You remember the way he forced himself to consummate, the way he’d drowned out your cries for relief because he wanted to get it over with.
He wanted to be done with you and never could you have imagined that he would hold you so dearly. His lips wrapping themselves along yours, tongue softly probing for entry which you swiftly allow.
“Do you have to get back to work?” You whisper between a kiss, lips wet, eyes hazy with desire.
Steve pulls back to see your eyes and he shakes his head, leaning back in. He runs his tongue along your open mouth as he pushes you up onto your feet only to reach down and hike up the front of your skirt.
He pulls you towards him, hands hooking behind your thighs as he guides you back onto his lap but leaves you standing over him.
His hands disappear underneath the folds of your dress, but you can hear the swish of his pants as he braces himself on the arms of his chair and pushes his trousers down a bit.
His hands caress the length of your leg, from behind your knee to thigh before finding your hip. With one hand he leads you and with the other he lines himself up, the heat of his cock pressing against the soft wet folds of your cunt.
You shiver.
“Tell me you love me.” He begs, needy.
“I love you.” You answer, a breathy whisper as he impales you slowly.
“My sweet…” He groans, yanking you down to kiss him in a fevered passion that you hope he will never forget.
~~~~~~~~~~
“I need to go check on Grandmother.” Your eyes are fixated on the shielded corner of Steve’s den.
You’re not really looking at it, but it’s in your line of sight.
Steve groans, tracing the skin of your bum where you sit, still resting on his lap. Your head is on his chest, your body still wrapped around his. Still full of him though he’s spent after three rounds. You will both be sleeping soundly tonight, so long as Maggie will allow you to do so.
It’s not the custom for you to watch her at night but you insisted and as Queen no one will argue. Especially when Steve is so eager to support you in building a new way of life in the castle.
“She’s ill.” You reason with him, “I found her outside your door nearly fainted. With her age, I’d hate for us to be careless with her heath.”
“Shall I send for a doctor?” Steve asks, hands stopped on your bottom.
“Not yet. I’ll check with her first and then send for someone if needed.” You sit up and make to rise.
Steve’s hands suddenly grasp your bottom tight, fingers digging into your flesh. There’s a worry in it and it makes you look at him in search of what it might be.
“Do you want to see?” He asks you.
You’re at a loss as to what he means, and it must show on your face.
“Behind the curtains.” He explains, then gestures at the spot with a nod. “You were curious once before.”
You look at the spot and try not to feel too hurt or sound wounded by the memory of that day.
“And you were angry with me for it.” You remember.
“No.” Steve says, voice stern and certain. “No, my love, I-I was angry but not because you tried to look at her spot. I was angry because I thought you’d read my book.”
He sits up a bit more, arm wrapped around your waist to keep you in place as he reaches with the other one to grab the red book with the large A embossed on the cover.
“This book holds every account of every mission that we have ever run as a team. It holds details of enemies and their abilities or their motives. It has everything.
“When I walked in that day, I saw you with your hand on it. I saw you reading it.” Steve hurries to explain. “My heart dropped when I realized what it was you were looking at and I lashed out. It wasn’t right of me to do so, but the last thing that I wanted was to have you involved in that world.”
“Oh.” You realize, staring at the book in his hand. “I thought-”
“I will not lie and say that it didn’t have a little to do with Margaret and her space in my den, but mostly I-I was already in love with you and the thought of you and all your purity and goodness, all of your vulnerability exposed to the violence of the world I lived in filled me with a fear that I have never known.
“Even now, only the thought of our little Maggie in danger compares to the terror that fills me when I think of you at the mercy of Pierce’s sword.” He brings his hands up, one on your cheek and the other on the back of your neck. “I would have gone mad if he’d taken you both from me.”
You can’t blame him for the fear. You’d felt it too. Still feel it when you imagine your little one, protected only with your body and you with no way to fight Pierce off.
“We owe Sharon so much.” You tell Steve and he nods.
“I can never repay her for being there when I could not be.” Steve agrees.
Several moments pass in silence as the two of you reflect on what could have been and relish in each other’s presence, bodies pressed so close still, in gratitude for the reality of the outcome.
“So?” Steve continues. “Would you like to see?”
He tosses the red book back onto his desk and carefully helps you up. He pulls your skirts down, helping you fluff them out as they should be before tying the string of his trousers and adjusting his shirt.
With the soft hiss of skin on skin, he takes your hand and pulls you around his desk towards the corner.
He releases your hand and reaches up to unhook the heavy curtains.
As they fall away, it reveals not a reading corner but a remade space with a new seat by the window. A bench with a plush pink cushion, darker pink peonies in the fabric. The dark woods compliment the lighter colors. Around that seat is indeed a bookcase but it’s much smaller than the ones that surrounded it before.
There is also a spinning wheel, a basket of what you can only assume is everything you will need to make your own yarn. There are several small round containers that you recognize as sewing kits. In one sitting open you can see a pair of iron scissors, thick and heavy. A leather pouch, spools of already woven yarn, and a collection of cutting knives for leather should you decide to work with it. There’s a small table against the other wall where a large bookcase had sat before, piled with patches of fabrics for embroidery and a few samples of tapestry fabrics that excite you as you’ve never worked on a tapestry before.
Near that table along the floor is a plump yellow cushion. The design is also feminine but only just with silver and baby blue butterflies. A small pillow, a doll made of rags and another out of wood tells you that this spot is for your little one.
Steve offers his hand once more and you take it, in awe of his reveal.
“I know you like to read so I had some books brought for you, but I wanted this space to be yours and yours alone. Well, until three months ago when Maggie was born, and I had that small space added for her. Do you…like it?” He wonders, watching you as you let his hand go and move to trace the smooth lines of your spinning wheel.
“Like it?” You gasp. “Oh, Steve…”
You burst into tear and cover your face. Why must you be so emotional right now? You want to show him how happy you are!
“Oh, no. Please do not cry.” He pleads, moving to wipe your tears away.
“I c-can’t help it. I’m sorry.” You weep. “I’m just so-so happy.”
Steve laughs, an easy chuckle as he pulls you against his chest.
“Thank goodness.” He kisses your head and holds you until you stop crying.
The walk to grandmother’s is a happy one. You’re excited to spend time in Steve’s den. Not only because he’s given you so many new tools to really make some high-quality products but because this means that you’re officially part of his life. He wants you near him when he works. He’s opened his space up for you and is welcoming you so openly.
After so long spent wondering whether you belonged here at all, you finally have your place. Truly this is where you belong.
A keening cry pierces the cool spring air. The shade of the trees that surround Grandmother’s cottage suddenly seem looming with the clear sound of an animal crying out in protest is cut abruptly cut off.
You stop walking and wait a moment to see if you might hear anything else but when you don’t, you race towards the cottage, in fear for Grandmother’s life.
As you shove the door open, you expect to find the old woman clutching her heart again, on her knees in a heap on the floor.
What you do not expect to find is the old woman in the middle of a large circle drawn onto her floor.
Even now, a strange purple light fades from the circle leaving behind the sight of Grandmother on her knees, a slaughtered mess of black fur in front of her and her hands bathed in blood as she struggles to catch her breath.
“Grandmother?!” You race towards her, stepping into the circle as the light fades completely.
She turns towards you, watching you with pure white eyes. Although she looks at you, her eyes see beyond you. They watch something you cannot see, and you begin to realize that everything that everyone said about Grandmother being a witch had been completely correct and not at all because of her old age and her hermit behavior.
“Grandmother are you alright?” You ask in a panic, realizing her true self while trying to make sense of it with the old woman who just delivered your daughter.
When she speaks, she breathes inward. Her voice escapes as a gasp.
Breathing in. “The worst is yet to come.”
Breathing out. “There will be a power much darker than this world has ever seen.”
Breathing in. “Six are sought by the one who shall wield them. Half will die.”
Breathing out. “Already he makes his move.”
“Grandmother?”
With her eyes still bone white, she seems to finally see you and grasps the top of your arms with such strength that you’re sure her fingers will leave a bruise.
“He will fight harder than he has ever fought before. He will protect them all with his life.”
He? Steve?
“And he will fall.”
Pseudo Princess Pt.35
Sacrifices to Save the World
Pairing: King!Steve x Reader Word Count: 9,582
Warnings: smut, LOTS of fluff, angst
A/N: (THIS IS NOT THE LAST CHAPTER! One more to go!) Here it is everyone! The moment I have been waiting for. I can’t really say much and I don’t want to give anything away so, I’ll just let the chapter speak for itself. I also want to say that I’m sorry that I haven’t been as diligent about responding to comments. Trust me when I say that I read and reread them often! I appreciate your thoughts and reactions so much. As always, if you happen to reblog, thank you so much for helping me spread my work!
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Please DO NOT repost my stories. Reblogs are MOST welcome!
You bustle around the cottage sweeping cat hair and dust, mixing the white of the chalk dust with the crimson blood of Grandmother’s sacrificial cat.
Your attempts to tidy the space is wasted as you’re only making it worse, but rather than focus on her words you prefer to clean.
She watches you from the seat at her table where you placed her. A cup of water gripped in her withered hand, still trembling slightly.
“Stop cleaning, girl!” Grandmother chides, watching you with annoyance as you stop amongst the mess on her floor and throw your hands out to your sides in a clear indication of not understanding.
“What would you have me do?” You ask her, voice tight with distress. “You tell me that my husband will fight to his death and I am supposed to what? Dance?”
“Just sit down.” She points at the seat across from her, her finger crooked and weak.
You drop the broom where you stand and plop yourself down on the indicated seat while ignoring the creak of the weathered wood. The old woman would resist new furnishings though you’d managed to sneak in a new bed and kitchenware.
“You killed your cat.” You tell her, as if she doesn’t know.
“Yes.” She agrees and lifts the small cup to her lips to take a drink.
“Why?”
“I had to see.” She explains. “Something was…was there.”
“When I found you outside Steve’s office?” You check, though you know her answer.
“Yes.” With a sigh she captures your gaze and does not release it. “I have sensed a darkness growing in the world. Something elusive. Hidden. It has kept its face secret, behind that of puppets. It uses others to do its bidding and until today I had no idea what that bidding was.
“He is gathering six relics. Stones. Rich in magic properties. Richer than any other relics I have ever come across. Each of them with powers more terrifying than the last.”
“What kind of powers?” You ask her, voice feeble and wispy.
“Powers to control time. Power to manipulate the mind and the very fabric of space and reality.” She warns. “Powers to rule the world…or wipe it from existence.”
Your heart grows cold, slipping into the pit of your stomach as you picture Steve in his armor standing before such massive power. What could your warrior husband do in the face of such might?
“Who is he?” You ask her, eager to put a face to the threat.
“I don’t know.” She says, looking down at the necklace that always rests around your neck. The locket that is Steve’s insignia, with his picture along with your parents. “I cannot see his face. I can only feel him. He is stronger than the king. Stronger than many of those who fight here. Together they may defeat him, but I did not see them together. I saw only your husband, the bodies of those you love surrounded him, and he fell too.”
You get up, unwilling to let her convince you despite you having already accepted her words. “I cannot listen to this.”
“You must, girl. You must take heed of what I tell you and prepare yourself for what is to come. Take your daughter and go as far away from here as possible but even that may not save you.” She adds as an afterthought. “I feel this evil plans for more than death. He has such a will.”
Turning to her you consider her thoughtful expression and the way she seems lost to her vision. She believes it with every fiber of her being and your own heart is swayed into panic as you throw yourself onto your knees at her feet.
Gripping the hand she has resting on her lap, you raise it to your breast and hold it there to where your heart is pounding.
“There must be something you can do. Something that will save him.” You reason, pleading for her to see reason as if she held the very fate of Steve within her old hands. “Won’t you try?”
“I cannot.” She shakes her head. “Such magics are forbidden. I am no dark witch.”
Her insistence is fractured, her own eyes betray her as she eyes you up and then turns away.
Her fondness is clear. You know that she loves you despite the way she speaks to you at times. She has fought hard for your happiness. If you would beg for her life, you think she might give it up.
“Is there no way? Nothing? Surely there is a chance to change things without resorting to dark magics? Please, Grandmother…” Before you know what’s happening, you’re crying.
Tears flow freely across your cheeks but your voice is strong in the only way that it can be when you’re pleading for your husband’s life.
“I cannot live in a world where my husband is not alive. Please…help me. Help me save him. There must be a way. There must be…please. We just had our daughter…” You lay your head in her lap, overcome with fear at this future she’s seen. “Please.”
Her silence is heavy. You can feel her thinking, can feel her mind searching for a way to give you what you want.
You have always loved this old woman but until today, you had not considered how much she might truly love you as one would a true granddaughter.
“Give me time.” She sighs.
“You’ll try?!” You gasp, your heart soaring.
With an elated sob you drop your head onto her lap and with gentle, feeble hands, she strokes the back of your head.
“I will think on it. I will try. I cannot make any promises.” She warns you, reaching under your chin to draw your gaze up. “What you ask for will not be easy. Is he worth it?”
You blink, confused by her question because in your mind there is absolutely no doubt.
“He’s worth more. He’s worth everything.” You nod. “I love him.”
Grandmother’s gaze withers and she releases you, nudging you away.
“Go. Be with your husband and child. Let me ponder.” She orders and slowly you rise.
You’re so stunned you have to keep a hand on the table as you rise to keep your knees buckling.
“When will you know?” You ask her, sniffling from the tears you shed.
“Go.” She orders again, staring at the hem of your dress. “And change your dress. You’re covered in blood.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Standing still, you hold tight to the lower left post of your bed as your corset is laced again.
The copper tub by the roaring fire in your bedroom sits lukewarm, full pink and wine-colored peony blooms floating within its oiled surface.
“Why was there blood on your dress?” Natasha wonders, tugging tight on your laces making you gasp.
“It’s not important.” You tell her, then think better of keeping her completely in the dark. “There was a dead cat on the way to Grandmother’s and I didn’t realize it until I came upon it.”
Fuck, was that believable? Does she trust you enough to accept your words without doubt?
“You’re keeping something from me.” She counters, frowning as she ties the corset closed.
Apparently not.
“I’m not.” You argue, but after her silence pierces your soul, you sigh. “I’m worried.”
“About Hydra?” She asks, supplying you with an appropriate alternative to the truth.
“Of course.” You grasp onto this straw and lean your stress onto this very real threat. “The last time I was within their vicinity someone tried to kill me and Maggie.”
“That won’t happen again.” Natasha assures you, moving towards you with a long ivory gown. The slightly yellowish tinge to the flowing fabric is pretty, though you note this in the back of your head. You’re too preoccupied with the threats looming overhead to notice how pretty the dress is. “I should have stayed with you.”
“It wasn’t your fault Nat. Pierce knew what he was doing. He’d been to father’s many times and he knew that I’d be in that part of the castle. He knew that you’d all be focused elsewhere. He was going to find a way to me one way or another.” You reason, but you know that if Peter or Nat had been there with you, there would have been a better chance of getting away with greater speed.
“I will never leave your side again.” Nat declares passionately but you huff a laugh and turn to look at her as she gathers up the skirt of your dress, hooking her arms through it to make ready for you to wear.
“Nat,” You smile. “I love you, and maybe you’re right and things would have been better if you or someone else had been by my side that night. But you cannot be beside me always. You’re a wife now. And even if you cannot be a mother naturally, there are many other ways to have children.”
Nat drops her arms, watching you with a concerned and furrowed brow. She’s clearly focused on you and not herself. You want to remedy that quickly. You love her, how can you allow her to only ever let you be her concern?
“You two must have discussed it?” You prompt, knowing that Bucky would not give up on giving Nat what she most desperately desires. “I know you want to be a mother. You love children.”
She seems to realize that you are not about to let this drop, so she sighs, relaxing a bit.
“I have thought about it.” She nods. “And yes, I do love children but I’m not sure if it’s right for me with the life that Bucky and I lead.”
Your heart aches suddenly, a renewal of Grandmother’s words reminding you that your daughter could lose her father. She so damn right about that.
“I don’t blame you.” You nod, sitting yourself on the end of the bed. “This life that all of you have chosen is one most unwelcome to the traditional family. But it is possible. Father and Mother have Morgana, Lord and Lady Lang have their daughter. Steve and I now have Margaret.
“It may not be ideal, certainly. But possible.” You offer in encouragement.
You don’t want her to give up. You want her to be happy.
Nat looks down at your stocking covered feet and nods.
“You don’t have to. Of course, it is entirely your choice and Bucky’s. I’m not trying to say that you should have children. But if you should you choose to have them, it is possible to live both lives.” You really hope that you’re not putting any pressure on her to raise a child when she might not want to.
Natasha’s inability to have children naturally should not be a hindrance on her desire to be a mother if she should decide to try. There are thousands of children in orphanages across the Kingdoms that would benefit greatly from a loving home that you know Bucky and Nat would provide effortlessly.
At the end of the day however, you know it is their choice.
“I appreciate your support.” Nat admits, gathering your skirts again and then holding them open for you to put your head through. “Truly. It means so much to me that you think I could do a good job. As a mother.”
You stand and stick your head through the dress and begin to pull your arms through the large puffed sleeves as Natasha straightens your skirt.
The neckline is ruffled, heart shaped, and low. The sleeves are also ruffled, small cinches that wrap around your arm mid-bicep leaving your shoulders and neckline exposed. Nat turns you and quickly laces up the back of the dress. She pulls it tight so that there is no chance of it slipping down.
“Isn’t this a little-?”
“You look beautiful.” Natasha smiles, fixing a long pink sash around your waist that she ties into a long loose bow above the curve of your bum. “Shall I braid your hair again?”
Natasha’s hands work fast, her fingers nimble and familiar with your hair’s texture and flow. The skirt is so long and flowing that you wonder if something special has been planned for you to attend as you feel that despite the somewhat casual look of the dress, it also doubles as pretty in that formal sense.
Your fingers find the embroidered pink and white peonies on the bodice that decorate your breast.
“Am I seeing someone special today?” You ask.
“No.” Natasha smiles. “Just us. Lunch is being served in the garden for you, Margaret, and Steve. Bucky and I shall be nearby. Peter will be close too. No one special.”
You huff a laugh as she lists all of the most precious people in your life. “So, only those special to me then?”
Nat chuckles and finishing tying off your hair.
“Lunch is for you, Steve, and Maggie. Steve expressed a wish to spend some quiet time alone with the two of you. He knows he’s been busy the past few weeks racing about chasing leads on this new Hydra weapon. He wants to make it up to you and I know he’d appreciate you in this dress.”
Her explanation makes sense but you’re successfully distracted from the dress by the mention of Hydra.
“How was the search?” You suddenly wonder, remembering Steve’s orders for her and Bucky.
“We’ve spread the word and will go out again tonight to search. I’ll tell you if anyone is found.”
“I’d like to know what’s happening with this.” You turn to her, adjusting within her grip as she reaches down to fuss with your dress. “I need to know, Nat. I can’t be kept in the dark again.”
Natasha drops her hands, placing them on her hips as she considers the look in your eyes.
“You’re not saying something.” She realizes. “What’s troubling you?”
“Nothing.” You say quickly, a shrug thrown her way just to brush off the concern. “I just don’t want any surprises. Not like before. This threat seems insignificant but what if there’s more to this mysterious weapon? I want to know what you’re all walking into.”
“Steve has promised to keep you appraised.” Nat promises you. “I will hold him to his word.”
Slowly, as the truth of her words shines through her eyes, a small smile stretches your lips.
“Thanks, Nat.”
~~~~~~~~~~
As you approach your renovated pavilion, peony blossoms blooming all around in varying shades of pink, you adjust Maggie in your arms.
You’re careful with your own dress. Double-checking the top of your bodice to make sure for the tenth time that you are covered after feeding your daughter. Nat made sure it was tight again but you’re fretting is ceaseless as a mother now.
The corset you’re wearing made especially for you since you are nursing, makes it easy for you to feed her without much fuss. Steve seems to favor it too though you’ve told him to be gentle and he’s avoided enjoying your breasts while you’re focused on raising your little one.
Aside from a loving caress and gentle butterfly kisses when the two of you make love, he’s avoided touching them.
Reaching the stairs, you fix your daughter’s dress—changed to match yours with endless ruffles but the same peony embroidery pattern on her little chest and pink sash around her little waist.
Steve rises quickly, rushing towards you with his arms extended.
Maggie coos excitedly, her little high-pitched squeaks and goos nearly make you swoon as she kicks her little legs excitedly. She’s not exactly screaming yet, but her noises are long and eager.
“There’s my princess.” Steve says proudly, his eyes flooding with love as he takes her into his large arms and kisses her chubby cheek.
He turns her to sit with her little back pressed against his chest and smiles at you while your own eyes are glued to your daughter.
“And my beautiful Queen.” He gushes, pulling your attention away from Maggie as he leans down slowly until he meets your lips with a long slow peck. “How are you?”
His voice is soft and deep. “I’m very well.”
It’s almost a lie.
In this moment, here with Steve and Maggie, you are most definitely well. You’re happy and you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.
Your heart still weighs a ton with Grandmother’s news.
For a terrible moment as Steve walks away from you to sit down with Maggie on his lap, you remember her words and your knees almost buckle.
With him focused on the little one, you manage to sit yourself down before he can notice.
Rapid footsteps climb the stairs behind you. You turn to find Peter moving in to stand beside you both. He smiles excitedly as he watches Maggie. He, like everyone else in the castle, is head over heels for her.
No one draws a smile quicker than Maggie, even from the gentry that had so readily spread rumors about you.
This makes you happy. Your daughter accepted.
“Cook will be out with your meals shortly, your Majesties.” He informs you both.
“Won’t you join us?” You ask him, but Peter meets Steve’s eyes for a moment then reaches up to scratch behind his head, his cheeks flushing pink.
Clearly Steve had made it clear that he wanted to spend time with you and Maggie alone to more than just Nat. However, there’s something else in that rosy tint in Peter’s cheeks.
“I…I’m actually meeting Morgana in the libraries to help her with her studies. I will cancel with her if you wish me to stay?” He offers, though you see the disappointment in his eyes.
“No.” You hurry to assure him. “No, we’re fine. I just wanted to be sure you ate.”
“Thank you, your Majesty. I believe Cook is sending sandwiches to the library for us.” Peter bows and with an excitement in his step you watch him until he’s out of sight.
“They make a good match.” You smile, turning to take a sip of water from the silver goblet before you.
“Who?” Steve asks, confused. He bounces his leg to keep Maggie occupied while allowing her to hold his finger in her tight tiny fist. She drags it to her mouth and bites it with her gums, yet Steve doesn’t seem to notice.
“Peter and Morgana.”
“Peter and your sister?” Steve asks in shock. “But…she’s so young.”
“She’s fifteen, going on sixteen.” You remind him. “If they are engaged this year that will still leave them with two years of courtship before they’re married. That is the custom in Malibia.
She’ll be eighteen by then and Peter will be twenty-four. Some people would say those are two ages perfect for marrying.”
Despite the pleasant picture you paint, Steve’s frown only grows.
“What?” You chuckle, reaching into your skirts to find the pocket where you’d placed a few small towels for Maggie’s constant drooling.
You offer Steve the towel but he’s still frowning? No…he’s pouting! You get up and move around to wipe her chin before placing the towel in Steve’s hand.
“Why are you pouting?”
“I’m not pouting.” Steve grumbles.
It makes you laugh again. “Steve…”
“Maggie will not be getting engaged until she’s at least twenty.” He suddenly declares. “I’ll lock her up in the West tower until she’s that age and only then will I allow her to entertain the idea of a suitor.”
“Are you worried that you’ll only have her for sixteen years?” You chuckle, watching the worry in his eyes as he cradles Maggie closer, stroking her rounded cheeks with gentle thumbs.
“She’s mine right now.” Steve laments, looking down at her as she continues to chew on his finger. “I don’t want to part with her. I’ve waited so long for her for some boy to come take her from me.”
“Oh, my darling.” You chuckle but this time with full sympathy for his heartbreak. “We will have lots of time with her. And even after she marries, she will always be our daughter.”
Steve’s eyes are glued to her little face and he completely doesn’t notice Cook come up to serve your meal. A few roast chickens with potatoes and carrots.
You eat in silence but quickly. Enjoying the sight of him growing more and more enamored with your daughter. Steve doesn’t seem to notice the time slip by as he distracts her with the towel you’d handed him.
She chatters about nothing in her baby speak, drawing smiles and chuckles from your husband.
Finally, you eat your last carrot and slide your chair back.
“I’m sorry.” You tell him, rising to your feet knowing you have no reason to be sorry. He’s so in love with her. Luckily, you’ve still managed to eat fast enough that the food is still warm for him. “I should hire a maid to watch her when we eat.”
It’s true that you’ll eventually need to hire someone to take care of her when you must deal with kingdom affairs too. You’re so reluctant to let someone else care for her. Just as Steve claims her passionately, you feel just as he does. She’s yours.
“Not yet.” Steve counters, letting you take her from him. He adjusts in his chair, wipes his hand then proceeds to eat, stealing glances at both of you as you move towards the benches that line the inner edge of the pavilion.
Everything is so perfect. So lovely.
You’re almost content in this moment, with your little girl in your arms and Steve sharing a meal with you. You’re very nearly happy until you look at him and like a raging storm Grandmother’s words destroy your fragile peace once more.
Steve is going to die.
He turns to you and smiles. He smiles at Maggie. He confesses his love for you both with it pouring from his eyes and while your heart aches, you vow to do anything to stop this new threat from taking him away.
~~~~~~~~~~
“Come to bed.” Steve pleads.
You glance at him through your looking glass, a hazy image because of the distance from your small table to the bed. The silver is in need of polishing or perhaps replacing. You don’t dare speak this thought aloud though.
Knowing Steve, he’d simply buy you a wall full of mirrors and you can’t have that.
Even blurry he’s a vision, an absolute fucking sight to behold with your daughter at the center of your bed his fingers tickling her tummy as she kicks her little legs excitedly. Her little hands absentmindedly stroking his arm.
He’s on his side, shirtless. His lower body hidden beneath the sheets of your bed as he lays naked underneath.
Despite that delectable fact, your eyes are glued to his gentle smile as he takes his hand and gently strokes the length of Maggie’s little nose. He’s noticed how that lulls her to sleep and does it to her every night to send her off when he’s not busy in meetings.
You finish tending to your hair, braiding it back once again to keep out of the way for your little one. When you turn in your seat to look at them, you find Maggie’s movements slowed. Her eyes are closing, little rosebud lips left open slightly.
She’s already fed and content. Your happy baby, so protected and cherished.
Despite his attentions to your daughter that you’ve spent the last ten minutes watching, when you look at him you find Steve’s eyes on you.
“Come to bed.” He urges you, a small twinkle of desire hidden in the tranquility of these moments he spends with Maggie but stares at you.
“Are you trying for a second?” You ask him, teasing as you rise and move to the bed. You know that look well by now.
Steve’s expression suddenly shift, concern etched across his face.
“Am I rushing you?” He asks, reaching for you as you kneel on the bed and gather your nightdress up so as not to trip on it. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
He’s thinking of this morning, already having had you in his den.
Since you’d given birth, he’s been so careful with you. Even when you’d assured him you were ready to be intimate with him again, he’d hesitated. Worried about hurting you or rushing your body into doing things you should not be doing.
Your smile only grows, a small chuckle escaping your lips as you settle in on Maggie’s right. She doesn’t even stir. Steve’s hand remains around your forearm, fingers gently caressing your skin.
“Why do you laugh?” He asks, his mouth perking at the corners despite his worry.
“You are not like any man I’ve ever met or heard of.” You confess. “Some of the women in Bright Rise, when they still spoke with me, would tell me about their husbands. They were like you were at the beginning of our marriage. Worse, as they took without care for their wives’ wishes. Some of them were always pregnant now that I think about it. Always trailed by a line of toddlers and children.
“The men didn’t care about their wives’ bodies or how their need to satiate their hungers affected the other.” You shake your head. “Some of the women even confessed to me that they took on lovers to find the enjoyment in fucking again.”
“Something you would have been forced to do had I continued in my foolish ways.” Steve suggests, unphased by your still somewhat rural tongue.
“Maybe…in the future. It would have taken me years of neglect to get to that point.” You nod, “Even with Thor, his touch was…unwelcome. He didn’t force me, but I did not feel right accepting his affections. I’m married. Even unhappy that wasn’t something I took lightly.”
Steve’s hand moves up to the top of your arm then slowly he drags it down to your wrist.
“Were you always this considerate? I mean, before me?” You wonder, looking deep into his storm blue eyes. “Say with Margaret? Or, perhaps the other women you were with before we married?”
Steve turns, laying himself on his back.
He releases your arm and gently strokes the length of his chest, fingers dancing across the tuft of blonde hair that rails all the way down below where the blanket ends at his waist. His other hand he shoves underneath his head as he thinks.
You wait patiently for him to be ready to speak. You’ve never asked him about his habits with other women in bed.
He steals several quick looks your way which tells you he’s nervous about answering you. Wary, in case it should prompt a fight. You can see the moment he decides to give in. His lips part a little, they stutter, then he speaks.
“Margaret was strong.” He states plainly, as if that explains it all.
You wait.
“Not that you aren’t!” He rushes to say, sitting up as gently as he can to keep from waking your daughter.
Maggie still stirs and whimpers. You place your hand on her chest and soothe her until she stills again.
“Can you put her in her bed?” You begin to sit up too, ready to do it yourself but Steve is faster, rushing so that you won’t have to.
“Of course! I’ll get her.” He gently scoops her up into his arms then quickly moves around to your side of the bed as you follow them with your eyes, turning your body as they go.
Gently he places her in her crib and tucks her in, shushing and soothing her as she complains then goes silent once more.
She isn’t too close, but you can still see her from your spot on the bed. Steve double checks by looking at you to see if you can still see her.
When he’s satisfied that you can, he moves back to you, crawling over you and stopping to give the tip of your nose a kiss as he goes before plopping himself down on his side once again. This time he reaches for you, grabby hands tracing the shape of your curves as he pulls you a little closer.
“What I meant, is that Margaret was willful. She knew what she wanted, and she made certain that everyone else knew so too.” He clears his throat, suddenly nervous again. “In bed, she was just as certain of herself.
“Even though I made the first move, she was the one who took charge in our physical relationship. I knew that if something were to go wrong or if she was tired or too ill to be with me intimately, she would tell me.”
You listen without judgement and try to keep your face clear of all emotions other than the love you have for him. Even through this conversation, your heart pounds with dread as it repeats Grandmother’s words over and over, reminding you that every moment with Steve is precious.
“I never had to worry about Margaret’s body because she never had to compromise it for me. I did worry for her, but not in the same way.” Steve says, probably thinking about the risks that Margaret would have taken as part of the Avengers.
“And the other women?” You wonder.
“There weren’t many.” Steve assures you, looking down at your chest in embarrassment. “Only two.”
“You were grieving Margaret.” You nod, understanding. “That doesn’t mean you aren’t a man.”
Steve is silent for a moment, resting his head in his hand as he uses his elbow to prop himself up. With his other hand he traces nervous circles in the blanket between you.
“They were visiting ladies. Ladies who, like Margaret, knew what they wanted.” Steve sighs the lunges softly towards you, pushing you onto your back so suddenly it makes you gasp and then laugh.
As he settles his body halfway over yours, he smiles down at you.
His hands caress the sides of your face before he trails one hand along your sides, grabbing you with intent. You can feel the desire in his touch.
“Court ladies are all playing a game. It’s a language they speak that you don’t know.” Steve sighs heavily. “A set of rules that I’m glad you do not understand. You are nothing like them and I love you for it.”
“They had husbands?” You realize.
“Yes.” Steve nods. “Men who are too distracted by their own infidelities or too busy grasping at power to pay their wives any mind. With both of them it was only one night. It came and went so quickly I can barely remember them. I don’t even think I could tell you their names.”
His face grows solemn, sad as if remembering a painful memory that has since lost its sting but not the emotion of sorrow. “I didn’t enjoy myself. I was driven by lust, but I didn’t even…I made sure they were satisfied and left it at that.”
“Mm. You felt guilty.” You nod, understanding as you watch his full lips. The lower is so much bigger than the upper. You reach up and trace it, loving the soft plumpness of it.
“Does it not make you jealous?” He wonders, relaxing more of his weight onto you. “Does it not upset you?”
You meet his eyes again, a smile stretched across your face. You can see that he wants to know you’re jealous. He wants to know that you want him as much as he wants you.
So much progress…is this truly the man you married?
“Only as much as it would upset any wife to hear her beloved husband talk about his past adventures in fucking other women.”
Steve groans and buries his face into the side of your neck, wrapping his arms around you as you also wrap yours around his shoulders. You chuckle, caressing the back of his head.
“So, the concern is not normal?” You realize, feeling better but also worried that you’re not seeing the real Steve. That maybe he’s acting this way with you while acting a completely different way with everyone else.
Is this not who he is?
“No, the concern is normal.” Steve says, muffled against your skin, making you feel almost instantly better.
He pulls back to look down at you again.
“What I’m saying is that every woman that I have been with until you has never given me cause to be concerned. I didn’t hurt them the way I hurt you.” He frowns. “I didn’t take what they weren’t willing to give.”
You look away this time, the solemnity coming from you now. The shift of conversation making your heart ache. When you speak, your voice is quiet, subdued with the reminder of your wedding night.
“I wasn’t unwilling.” You correct him because you hadn’t been. Not that first night or any night after.
Your line was not one clearly drawn, certainly. You’d slept with him out of duty but that hadn’t meant you didn’t want to. He’s the most beautiful man you’d ever seen in your life. Of course, you’d wanted him.
You hadn’t told him no. You’d only told him to slow down. You know that for him, for Nat, for everyone who found out—that slow down had been enough. It should have been enough to stop him.
“You know what I mean.” Steve says, placing both his hands on the sides of your face to tilt your head back until you look at him. “I wounded you. I took something that was not mine to take.”
“But it was yours to take.” You correct him again, and he growls in his throat at you before shaking his head, the pain leaving his eyes to be replaced by admiration.
“I can still feel you, trembling and sobbing in my arms. I was disgusted with myself. I couldn’t believe that I could do that to anyone. And you were so…so kind and gentle. So eager to please and I took advantage of that.” Steve confesses. All of his thoughts spilling out of him like water. “I had turned this beautiful, sweet princess into a sobbing, fearful, and wounded creature. I was so consumed by my grief over Margaret and my anger at having to marry again when I wasn’t ready to do so that I wanted it over. In that moment, I didn’t care about the sweet woman beneath me.
“And even after I hurt you, when I came to see you, despite your fear your only concern was for the tears I shed.”
It takes a moment to find your voice, but you do. You swallow hard.
“I’d never seen a man cry.” You confess. “Much less a king.”
“I meant every tear.” Steve insists. “If I could take that night back, I would. If I could redo every night since, I would. I am concerned for you above anyone else, because in you I saw my darkest self and I never want to be that man for you again. I never want to hurt you.”
The two of you lapse into emotional but pleasant silence. Both hearts beating strongly against each other as his chest is pressed firmly against your own.
At last, you smile, a chuckle spilling from your lips as you reach up and tuck his hair behind his ear. It’s getting long again.
“Have you always made these long speeches? Or is that reserved for me as well?” You check, mostly just teasing.
Steve’s lips curl up, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “I make sure to give every pretty woman I see a lengthy speech. Whether they’re enjoyable is a different matter.”
You bite your lip, glaring at him but only in jest. Quickly he dips down to kiss your lips, letting it linger for a moment before he pulls back only a bit so that when he speaks, his lips are fluttering against your own.
“My declarations of love, however, are entirely yours alone.” He whispers. “Tell me to stop and I will obey, my Queen.”
His right hand moves down, searching until it finds the hem of your nightdress which he begins to tug up until he finds the top of your leg. He traces the dip of flesh there, tickling your skin in search of your already yearning core.
As his fingers make contact, you gasp into his slightly open mouth and it draws his attention back up to your face. He licks your lips, just a gentle flick of the tip of his tongue before he kisses you, sinking it into your depths where you meet his eager kiss with your own.
You moan quietly, a whimper of yearning as his fingers spread your folds and begin to explore you. The noises his hand makes absolutely sinful.
Eager for his touch, you bring your knees up. You spread your legs for him, and he pulls out of the kiss to slide down along your body. He does down, down, down until he’s settled between your legs.
He grabs one and throws it over his left shoulder, then the other over his right. He kisses your thighs, trailing his tongue in small circles before every gentle pucker. The anticipation curls your toes as he moves closer and closer to your cunt.
“Steve…” You whisper, aware of the baby asleep in her crib and your need to keep quiet so that she can sleep.
He dives in, his tongue making one long swipe of your dripping core.
You gasp, curling up towards him as your body is sent into shivers.
He grabs hold of your thighs roughly, pulling you hard against his face. Opening his mouth, he suckles on your clit, the gentle sound of his sucking filling your limbs with fire.
As much as you enjoy his mouth where it is, there’s an impatience that wages war within you.
After months of waiting to enjoy sleeping with him, now that you do, it makes you eager to have him within you.
“Steve, please…” You beg, reaching down and tugging on his hair.
He likes that, growling a little at the lusty whisper that is your plea.
Pressing kisses along the length of your body while he shoves your nightdress up higher and higher, he finally helps you pull it off before taking your breasts within his mouth.
His lips are soft against them, gentle in their suckling as he knows how painful you can find it now.
When you whimper from the soreness, he steals a quick look at you to make sure you aren’t in too much pain before he simply kisses them around the nipple.
You run your hand over his hair, a promise that someday he’ll be able to enjoy your breasts again. He reads your reassurance but dismisses it as he rushes to meet your lips in a demanding kiss.
Without warning he pushes into you. He stretches you, filling you up so pleasantly that you throw your head back but swallow the moan you’d normally release.
Fuck…Your mind supplies, nails raking along the scarred flesh of his shoulders.
“Fuck…” Steve groans into your ear, stopping once he’s buried within you. Great minds think alike, you guess.
“Don’t stop.” You beg and wrap your left arm around his shoulders while the other reaches down as far as it can to grab as much of his bum as possible and pull him close.
He starts slowly, letting you both relish in the silky way his cock slides out of you then back in.
“Kiss me.” You tell him, needing his mouth to silence the moans you feel bound to make.
He obliges, roughly meeting your lips with a frenzied and lustful kiss as he loses himself within you.
He doesn’t pound into you the way he did at the cottage. He knows he shouldn’t, so he doesn’t. Even though you want it, you’re grateful for his forethought and instead focus on the way he seems to know which angles to adjust so that his cock not only pierces you but presses against the most sensitive spots inside of you.
He moves faster, reaching down to massage your clit as he kisses his way down your neck.
The moment is sudden, and it surprises you when your body goes tense for a moment as your climax washes over you.
You pull Steve down against you, gripping him hard as you hold him tight while your body is overcome.
Steve continues to push into you. Faster as he realizes that you’ve reached your limit. He grunts as he picks up speed, tracing the shape of your back down to your ass where he takes hold of it, fingers digging into the muscle.
He pulls up a little, searching for your lips with his own, tongue delving into your mouth as you give him what he wants. Both of you moan into each other, muffled and needy until Steve’s body stutters and his heat spills into you over and over.
He thrusts with each burst of ecstasy that overtakes him. His groans grow lazy. His body loose. Your own is already numb and you go still beneath him as he trails lazy kisses along the misty skin of your neck and shoulders.
He sighs, laying his head against your clavicle where he relaxes on top of you, your hands gently stroking his back.
You steal a glance at Maggie in her crib, but she’s sound asleep. It relaxes you to know she’s unbothered and without meaning to, you and Steve both fall asleep.
~~~~~~~~~~
A loud thumping makes you twitch. It sounds distant but it startles you anyway.
In your arms, something large moves.
Your sleepy mind reminds you that it’s Steve and you sigh in your semi-sleep as your hands enjoy the feel of his hot body still resting on top of your own.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The thumping returns, this time louder and clearer.
A quiet whine to your right wakes you more quickly than the thumping and like you’ve been stunned with Thor’s lightning, you spring up from the bed, quickly sliding out from beneath Steve who also whines at your moving but peeks up at you as you rise.
“Whereyewgoin?” He asks, still mostly asleep.
“Go back to sleep.” You whisper to him from beside Maggie’s crib.
BOOM! BOOM-BOOM!
The thumping, which is actually a knocking on your door you realize, repeats.
Maggie whines again and you frown.
“Who’s there?” Steve asks towards the door, his voice more annoyed then upset.
“It’s Agatha, your Majesty.” One of the guards outside speaks.
“Don’t speak for me.” Grandmother’s voice grumbles.
“I’m sorry, your Majesty.” The guard says nervously, probably worried about the knocking, which means that was Grandmother and not the guard.
You look at Steve as Maggie begins to wake, her cries soft but rising as you continue to try and soothe her but now only halfheartedly.
Fear grips you, stealing you of your voice as you stare at your husband. Your little girl’s cries grow louder as she wakes but you’re frozen in place, terrified of what Grandmother could not wait until the morning to tell you.
“What, my flower?” Steve suddenly asks, sliding to the edge of the bed towards you.
“I…I should see what she wants.” You whisper, afraid to speak any louder despite your daughter already being awake.
“Go.” Steve urges you, grabbing your nightdress and moving towards you. He offers it to you as he reaches you. “I’ll put Maggie back to sleep.”
You take the nightdress with trembling hands. If Steve notices he doesn’t say so, but you don’t think he does as he’s already lifting Maggie from the crib, moving back towards the bed.
You dress in a hurry, then move to grab Steve’s robe as it’s closer and pull it over your body.
You’re tying it closed as the door opens upon your approach and find Grandmother pacing the hallway behind the two guards assigned to keep you and Maggie safe.
After what happened with Pierce, Steve is taking no chances.
“Grandmother?” You check, voice stronger but still just as terrified.
“We must speak.” She tells you, her voice strong and her eyes full of severity.
With a tentative nod you have her follow you into Steve’s den next door, shutting the door securely before you move into the room and offer her a seat in front of Steve’s desk.
“No.” She waves your offer off, pacing as you take a seat because your legs are weak again. “I have found a solution.”
“So quickly?” You gasp, hands balled into tight fists on your lap as you watch her pace.
“The sooner the better I would think in this situation. This is nothing like I have ever done before.” She admits. “It will take all of my power to do it.”
“It…will it hurt you?” You wonder, worried for her withered body.
“Probably not.” She shakes her head. “No way to know for sure. But it’s something I’m willing to die for.”
“What?” You gasp, suddenly terrified of losing her.
Finally, Grandmother stops her pacing and moves to stand before you.
“This threat is greater than I first thought.” She admits, slowly sitting herself down in the seat beside yours, turning it so that she can face you. “We cannot allow this power to grow. We can either stop it here, right now. Or we can let your husband stop it later. If we allow him to do it, it will take his life. There is no doubt in my mind of that. There will be others. He will not be the only to perish.
“Stopping this threat now is for everyone’s benefit and if I must pay with my life to save many others, I will do so willingly.” She declares.
“I can’t ask you to do that.” You shake your head, your emotions already raw.
“You’re not asking me, girl. I’m telling you that I must do it. I have already made my choice, now the only choice left to make is your own.” She fixes her gaze on you and you find you cannot look away.
“My own choice?”
“You asked me to save him. To ensure that he will live, a great sacrifice must be made. Separate from my own. I will provide the power, the strength for the incantation. Something else must be given for it to succeed.” Grandmother explains.
Your mind springs into action, thinking of the one thing you have of worth to give. Your life.
“So, I’ll…I’ll die?” You whisper, already in sorrow for leaving your husband and child.
“No.” Grandmother says. “No, I’m certain you will live.”
“Then what?”
“The price is impossible to know. It could be anything.” Grandmother gestures at you, looking you over from head to toe. “It could be your sight. Your ability to hear. Your voice. Your ability to walk. Whatever it is, it will be a great price to pay. Only you can choose to pay it but unless you do, I cannot go forward with the spell.”
“C-can I choose? Can I decide what it is that I sacrifice?” You hope, but what would you choose? What do you possibly have that could be worth your husband’s life?
“No. The magics will choose what to take. It will be equal to what it is you ask for, but only the magics can choose what that value is.” Grandmother explains.
This is impossible. This is unbelievable. This is torture.
You have to pay a price without knowing what it will be?
You know that your answer is yes. You’ll pay it. Whatever the price, you will give it willingly if it will save Steve’s life.
“I will pay it.” You nod. “Of course, I will. Yes.”
Grandmother takes your hand and squeezes it, a knowing look in her eyes. “I knew you would.”
She rises and you follow. Your hands feel weak but with the decision now made, you now it’s right and feel settled that you know this will soon be resolved.
Before the old woman can make it to the door, you reach out and grab her wrist, stopping her before she can leave.
“Grandmother…” You begin, waiting for her to turn.
She doesn’t. “Don’t get sentimental.” She says, voice strong though you’re sure that you can hear a small sadness in her tone.
“I want to thank you…for taking care of me. For loving me. I know that you could not always be there when I was young but you’re here now. Thank you.” You whisper, scared to speak louder in case you begin to cry. “I-I just wanted you to know. In case I cannot say it later or if you-”
You can’t even speak the words. She won’t die. She can’t.
With one withered hand, she reaches down and places it over your own. She gives you a squeeze, her hands trembling but reassuring.
“I don’t know when the spell will take effect. Go. Sleep soundly. Hold them close.” Grandmother advises then pushes your hand off her arm and disappears into the sleeping castle.
The very short walk back to your bedroom feels as if it takes forever. The guard make no comment as they open your door for you and you wander in, eyes searching for the loves of your life.
You find Steve snuggled up close to Maggie, his head pressed against the side of her own, his hand on her tummy and his eyes closed.
Maggie is not sleeping. She’s staring up at the ceiling with her little legs kicking gently as she coos and babbles her baby speak. One of her little hands is closed tightly around Steve’s finger, holding tight. As you move towards them, you notice how her hand doesn’t even close around his finger completely. She’s so small still. So fragile.
What if you can’t hold her after paying the price? What if you can’t hear her babble? What if you can’t see her little face or the way her eyes light up and her toothless smile spreads across her face as she spots you?
Just as she does now, she lets out a louder “Goo…” as she spots you and her legs go into a frenzy as she flails her limbs frantically.
You don’t want to cry but you feel the rush of sorrow overwhelm you. Quickly, before Steve can see, you drop onto the bed still wearing his robe and pull Maggie towards you. You hug her and turn her towards you, burying your face against her tiny chest.
Her little hands grab at you, whatever part of your head they can, and she pulls your ears, tugs your hair, scratches against your cheek but you don’t care. You inhale her scent, memorizing it just in case you lose the ability to smell.
After you’re sure you could never forget it, you tickle her sides until she’s giggling lightly, small bubbles and whines of amusement. It’s not a full laugh. She hasn’t done that for you yet. What if you never get to hear it?
You memorize this one anyway, put it away and lock it up within your heart where you know you will always be able to recall the pure sound of her innocence.
It takes every ounce of will power within you to stifle your desire to sob. Still, you manage it and when you’re certain you can face him, you pull back a bit to look at your daughter’s beautiful face.
She’s all Steve. You hardly recognize anything in her looks of you. She’s gorgeous. Pretty blonde hair, just like Steve’s only slightly darker in shade.
Her eyes are a piercing blue. Lighter than Steve’s but just as observant. She watches you, reaches out for your face where she places a small hand on your nose then slides it down to your lips which she casually grabs and releases before her eyes find her hand and she brings it to her mouth to taste.
You watch her for so long, you’re sure that it must nearly be morning, but the sky continues to be dark outside the windows of your room.
You sing to your little one. A quit lullaby that you hope she’ll remember if you can never speak to her again. You tell her you love her and sing some more.
She drifts off eventually, her little mouth open as she sleeps.
Finally, you turn your eyes on Steve, yearning to see him almost to an unnatural amount. You have never doubted it but in this moment as your eyes find him staring right back at you, you realize how much you truly love him. How much he’s changed your life.
Your world has grown since you met him. He’s changed you forever.
Will the sacrifice be your life? Will you be leaving them behind? Will you be wounding him again, just as Margaret had?
Even though Grandmother said it wouldn’t be, you can’t help but wonder and worry that you might very well be spending the last moments you’ll ever have with him and Maggie now.
What if you close your eyes and they should never open again?
At least she would have him. Maggie wouldn’t be alone. She would have her father. And he would have her.
If by some chance her father should also leave her behind, she’d have Nat and Bucky. She’d have Sam and Peter. She’d have the entire team to care for her. Father and Mother would probably try and take her to Malibia.
She would never need to worry about her meals or whether she could survive frigid winter temperatures. She would be protected and loved even if you aren’t around to make sure she is.
Steve blinks slowly. He’s sleepy but he’s trying to stay awake because you’re awake.
You’re not sure if he can tell that something is wrong, but you push yourself up towards him. You’re careful as you hover over Maggie, reaching to hook your hand behind his neck as he also pushes himself up and towards you.
You kiss him, slow and smooth until your heart begins to ache and your hand squeezes around his neck.
You kiss him with a bit more fervor and though he returns it, when you pull away, his brow is narrowed in confusion. Subtle concern.
“I love you.” You whisper to him, reaching down to trace the shape of his bottom lip with your thumb. You kiss him again. “I love you, forever.”
It’s a promise you have every intention of honoring. Will he love you even if you can’t talk? Will he love you if you can’t hear? Will he still love you if you are not the woman you are now?
You know that you can overcome anything. You can embrace a new way of living so long as it means that Steve and Maggie are safe. But will he see it that way? Will he love you for the woman you will become?
“You’re my entire world, Y/N.” He whispers back almost as if he can hear your thoughts and he wants to put you at ease.
His lips curl up at the corns softly as he blinks even slower than before as sleep begins to pull him under. “You and Maggie are my life.”
Your lip trembles as his eyes shut and do not open again, his head falling to his pillow.
“I love you…so…” He trails off, his words lost to dreams.
You stare at him and then Maggie. All night you stare at them, memorizing the way they breathe and smell. If you’re going to be changed forever, you’re going to remember this moment and cherish it until the day you die.
You will never forget it.
~~~~~~~~~~
1 Year & 3 Months Later
The sun is beaming. It’s strong. July is hot, even more so than normal. You groan as you look up to the sky and shield your eyes from the blinding light.
For a moment your mind goes hazy, full of fog. Something changes as it always does. Something shifts.
Something tugs at the corners of your mind. Something blurry and demanding. You get this way every single time you come here.
Every time you fill the wooden bucket, there’s a flash of something familiar.
You focus on the tug, allowing it to unearth the secret that eludes you.
There’s a quick flash that you don’t quite see. A golden hue. A storm blue circle.
Then your bucket overflows and the water splashes your feet, drenching your newly mended shoes.
They’re too small for your feet but it’s all you have.
“Damn.” You sigh, grunting as you lift the bucket and place it on the damp bank of the river.
Across the barren field, your little hut just at the opposite edge nestled into a grove of forest trees, Bright Rise begins to wake.
Another day, another scramble to find a way to keep your belly full.
“Time to check the traps.” You sigh, groaning as you lift the bucket and begin the trek back to your little hovel in the only village you’ve ever known.
The place you were born, but most definitely not home.
Your heart tells you that somewhere out there…somewhere else, your true home waits.
(THIS IS NOT THE LAST CHAPTER! One more to go!)
Pseudo Princess Pt.33
His Heir
07/07/2020
Pairing: King!Steve x Reader Word Count: 5,876
Warnings: angst, childbirth, blood
A/N: I don’t really have anything to preface this with except to say that I saw this chapter very clearly in my head a few chapters back and it was fun getting it all tie up here. As always, if you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo
Please REBLOG only. No reposting on any other sites.
Tag list is CLOSED!
It all passes in a flash. Like a dream in quick snippets as your heart pounds with the stressful images that fill your mind.
There’s fear. It clouds your mind and paints the images with a looming midnight that seems to stretch on for ages.
The images are hazy. They’re gone before you can really focus but you see them, and your mind manages to make sense of them.
A heavy sword that makes your arms ache as you lift it to block a blow. An aching in your lower body as you stutter in a hallway, too scared to stop but in too much pain to carry on.
Your hair nearly pulled from your scalp. Gushing blood that coats your hands. A terrible blow against your cheek that sends you spilling to the floor.
The images shift but the fear is just as terrible. Grandmother’s aged white hair is a mess, strands falling out of the carefully gathered curls atop her head. Her skin is sticky, sweat dripping down along her temples and the heavy creases around her eyes as she fusses by your feet, your legs spread as Sharon paces behind her nervously, chewing on her thumbnail.
Your breathing is heavy, pained moans escaping your lips as you sit up and push with all your might.
“You’re doing wonderful, Y/N.” You follow the voice and meet storm blue eyes. Familiar. Loving.
Steve your brain provides.
The image shifts again and you’re flat on your back, shaking your head, body coated in sweat.
“I can’t…” You sob, voice weak. You’re clearly exhausted. “I can’t…”
“Yes, you can.” Steve’s voice is right by your ear. His hand clinging to yours as he pulls it to his lips and kisses it. “I have never known anyone with your strength, my flower. You can do this.”
Steve slides behind you, helping you sit up once again, holding your hands to give you something to hold onto.
You can feel the soft texture of his white puffed sleeve shirt. Despite the smudges of dust and blood on parts of his neck and arms, the subtle smell of pine and mint and something else that is only his and no one else’s fills your senses for one strengthening moment.
This King of men, believes in you.
He leans down to place his lips beside your ear. “I’m sorry that I can only hurt you. I’m so sorry but you must push, my petal.”
His quiet urging fills your chest with warmth but the pain snuffs it out almost as quickly as it appears. You obey him and groan as you push and your body nearly feels as if it’s being torn apart.
The images in your mind shift again and grandmother rushes away from you, holding something in her arms. She stops by a water basin, her back to you so that you cannot see.
“Steve…” You whisper weakly. “Where is he?”
“Agatha?” Steve asks, voice guarded as he helps you lay back down but you keep your body up as you strain to see Grandmother.
It’s so quiet…it stretches on forever, this moment of silence where you heart is in your throat and you exhaustion threatens to consume you.
“Steve…” You begin again, voice only just above a whisper. “Where is he?”
The images flash through your mind once again, so quick that it’s a blur and as a terrible fear floods your heart with that last image that seems to replay itself over and over, you gasp.
“Steve!” You cry out, still mostly asleep as the nightmare lingers.
“Here.” His voice comes from your right where you find him sitting in front of a dwindling fire. The cinders barely glowing with light.
Candles in their black metal braziers lining the walls every now and then fill the room with a soft yellow glow.
He rises slowly, his gaze drawn down to his chest and for one confusing moment you wonder what he’s looking at until he turns, and you hear the smallest whimper float out from his careful embrace.
You push yourself up eagerly, your heart suddenly racing as a happier memory of sweet relief fills your mind of a clear and lively crying. Newborn. Quivering little voice struggling with his first breath. A silence broken with the promise of a happy future.
“We’re right here.” Steve smiles, moving to sit beside you as you strain your neck to see your little one. “We’ve been waiting for you to wake.”
You sigh, your heart truly soaring as your eyes devour the little bundle all soft silky skin. Steve’s tone. Hair a little darker than his blonde but still on the lighter side. The lips are yours. Everything else seems to scream Steve.
“Do you want to hold her?” Steve asks, adjusting your daughter as you shift back so that your back rests against the headboard of your bed. Your new bed. One that you’d seen what feels like an age ago and you’d sworn never to sleep here. Ever.
But the sheets are a silver blue and the décor is a pastel yellow, silver blue peonies embroidered into cushions and blankets and curtains. Dark wood compliments the lighter colors and although this room is the room where you’d found Steve sleeping with another woman in his arms, it’s not the same room anymore.
This is so very much your room and though your mind is flooded with fuzzy memories of sleeping in here for what must have been days it feels new and foreign.
Steve holds her out for you. You take her carefully, this tiny little angel with her quiet coos as she settles into the shape of your arms. While you know that you must have been in this room for some time, this is most definitely the first time you’re holding your daughter.
Tears pour from your eyes and Steve reaches over to wipe them away. His hands, arms, and face now clean of blood and dirt.
A million questions fly through your mind. Instead of asking them, you ponder over the little one in your arms with her hay colored hair and rosy pink lips.
“I’m sorry, Steve.” You whisper, voice hoarse.
“Why my petal?” He scoots closer, hooking his hands around your waist as you continue to adjust yourself up some more.
“I-She’s a girl.” You shake your head, wondering how terrible his disappointment must be.
“What of it?” He brings his hand to your chin and tilts your gaze away from your daughter to his own quizzical storm blue eyes.
“You needed an heir.” You explain.
“And an heir I have. She will make a wonderful Queen. A strong Queen. Just like her mother.” Steve smiles, and there is truth in his words. You can’t find the trace of a lie in his declaration.
“You mean…you’ll accept her as your true heir?” You’re almost breathless with relief.
“Y/N, Broklin has never discriminated against the heir of the throne. The first born will always rule whether they are man or woman. Our daughter is first born, she will be queen, and the kingdom is safe. Not only is Pierce dead, but you’ve given birth to the first royal child since I was born. You should see the people. They have not stopped celebrating since we arrived with the news that our daughter has finally arrived.” Steve smiles, wiping the last few tears that roll across your cheeks.
“They’re really happy?” You smile, waiting for him to confirm it.
“Yes. They’re ecstatic and cannot wait to meet her when she’s older.” Steve caresses the back of your head before reaching down to stroke the Princess’s cheek. “Now that you’re awake, we’ll need to have those with title for a feast to meet her.”
“Do we have to?” You wonder, looking down at the beauty in your arms. She’s fast asleep, oblivious to you or Steve but she looks comfortable, swaddled in a luxuriously soft yellow blanket. Underneath you can see the long white dress of a newborn, a small bow tied just underneath her chin to keep it closed.
“Do you not feel well?” Steve wonders, caressing your head with a bit more force as he tries to catch your eye. “You’ve woken up a few times since we got back but this is the first time you’ve even asked about the baby.”
You meet his concerned gaze, surprised by this as you have no memory of waking up. “I…I feel fine. I’m just not eager to share her yet.”
Your confession deflates his worry and he settles in beside you, urging you closer with a simple flex of his arm. You adjust into the circle he provides and the three of you relax against the pile of pillows behind you.
“I understand the impulse. Unfortunately, we must present her. It’s tradition and it will give the people something to hold onto. If someone has seen her, then no one can dispute her validity as heir to the throne. The political sides of the crown are inescapable, my flower.” He sounds sorry about it too, but you understand why it’s necessary.
“Can we rest for a bit longer? Two days?” You look up at him, watching him watch your little girl. His eyes are full of love and admiration, deeper than you’ve ever seen on any man’s face.
He loves her so much and you are so grateful that he’s as good a man as you always thought he was.
“Take a week.” Steve relents. “You have a lot of bonding to make up with her, or so Grandmother tells me. I am not to take her from you again unless you ask me to. She was adamant.”
“Where is Grandmother?” You wonder, worried about the old woman after the sight of her in your memories.
“She’s in her cottage, resting. Ordered by her King.” Steve meets your eyes. “Don’t worry, she’s alright. She’ll no doubt show up again today as she has every day.”
“How long have I been sleeping?”
“Four days.” Steve sighs, wrapping you up a little tighter. You realize now that he’s been terrified. Worried out of his mind for you while you’ve been sleeping.
You know better than to focus on that however, and instead you look at your baby. “I’ve missed four days with her?”
“Don’t worry, my petal. I explained to her that you fought hard to keep her safe and you were only tired and resting so that when you woke, you could give her all the love that she deserves.” He smiles, reaching down with his free right hand to trace the shape of her nose.
“You haven’t left her side?” You check, though you know the answer as you watch her little face twitch at his touch.
“Never.” Steve assures you. “I will never leave her side.”
With a sigh you lean into his embrace, settling your head in the spot underneath his chin as he also relaxes, both of you watching your princess.
It fells like you and Steve sit in bed watching your daughter sleep for ages. You almost think he’s asleep until his lips press against your temple and you quickly turn to look up at him, lips puckered.
He smiles at you, pouring affection, before meeting your lips with a soft kiss.
There’s so much both of you need or perhaps it’s want to say, but instead you each pour it all into one long peck before you tear your eyes away from him to look back at your daughter. You can’t seem to get enough of watching her.
“I’ve been eager for you to wake for more than one reason. Before we can meet with the Lords of the kingdom, we have to name our princess.” Steve whispers.
“You haven’t picked one?” You ask, tilting your head as you consider the little life within your arms. What kind of woman do you hope she becomes? Her own woman. Her own person.
“I wanted to wait for you. We should do it together, though if I’m honest, I could not think of anything while you slept. How does one choose a name?” Steve wonders.
“It’s true, her name will follow her for life. It should represent who we hope she’ll become while also giving her the grace to shape that name into who she wants to be.” You rationalize as you continue to watch her, head cocked to one side.
If you’re honest, you’ve already chosen a name. It grows louder and more pronounced in your head the longer you sit there with her in your arms. The first two years of your marriage have been rocked with one trauma after the other. So much violence and uncertainty but also love once Steve came around. And even before he embraced you, Nat was always there with kind words and safety.
The name is one that you swore to forget. To purge from your life for all the pain it has caused you and yet, as you watch your daughter, it’s the only name you can think of. The only name that feels right.
“I want to call her Margaret.” You say. Voice even and thoughtful as you reach down to trace her cheek. She stirs but then settles quickly as you shush her and bounce her slowly.
“Why?” Steve sounds confused, but you don’t dare look at him. Your insecurity is still there, deep down within your heart where you will always hear him comparing you to his dearly departed first wife. You also know that he will never stop trying to make it up to you.
“Because she was important to you. Because you loved her, and she was strong and brave and because I want to love her too. Despite the negative affects her lingering presence had on our marriage when it began, she also helped us grow into who we are now. As a pair, you and I would not have been as strong, I don’t think, if Margaret hadn’t been there to divide us in the beginning.” You turn to look at him now, because you want him to know that you aren’t holding it against him.
“I want our daughter to grow up to be just as powerful as Margaret was. I want her to command someone’s heart the way Margaret commanded yours for so long. I also really need to stop hating her name simply because you spoke it often when I wished it were my name spilling from your lips.”
A terrible ache echoes within you as you remember Steve calling Maggie’s name while he slept with you. The memory is faded but so powerful to the way you developed in the castle that it will never go away.
“We don’t have to name her Margaret, Y/N. We can name her after your mother, or Natasha? She’d love that.”
“Steve…” You begin and he knows he won’t talk you out of it. “Do you hate it?”
“No, I-” Steve’s voice is suddenly thick. “-I just don’t want you to think that I wish in any way that this were me and Maggie. It’s only you for me. No one else, not even Maggie, can compare to how much you mean to me…well…”
Both of you look down at Margaret within your arms and both of you laugh.
“…Maybe this little Maggie might compare.” Steve relents. “But you’re my only love, never doubt it.”
You meet his eyes again and with a smile on your lips, kiss him again and again. You don’t stop until Margaret begins to stir and you know that she’s hungry.
Steve begins to rise, “I’ll get the wet nurse.”
“No!” You protest, grabbing his arm to pull him back down beside you. “No, I’ll feed her.”
You quickly reach down to expose your breast and adjust your princess until she’s positioned and gasp at how quickly she latches onto you.
Steve rushes to the dying embers of the fire and quickly stokes it, adding more wood so that the fire will build quickly. He moves back to you, fussing with a blanket as he wraps it around both you and Maggie so that you’re warm and comfortable.
You let him help, all smiles and careful watching of your girl. Finally, things feel just as they should.
~~~~~~~~~~
“Natasha and Bucky will be back tomorrow.” Steve crosses to you with a tray full of food, his hands steady.
Gracefully he lowers himself down onto the bed beside you as you watch Maggie sleep in her small cradle. Though small it is, simple it is not. It’s made of the finest irons and woods, embellished with shining pearls and velvety yellow fabric. The cushion within is plush, the rest of it lined in soft padding to keep her safe.
“I could sell this cradle and feed a village for half a year.” You frown, feeling a little guilty in the extravagance.
“Then when she’s outgrown it, we will sell it and do just that.” Steve places the tray of food on your lap and adjusts the pillow behind your back.
“Really?” You ask, hopeful.
“Of course. If that’s what you want to do. We could also keep it, as a keepsake. She may not use it again, but we will always remember her at this size if we save it. She may want to use it when she has her own children.”
You frown, hating the way his words make sense. Steve laughs but kisses your cheek before handing you a fork.
“Eat, my petal. You need to be strong for her.” He’s right about that, so you eat, stealing long looks at the baby in her bed.
“They didn’t have to come back so soon.” You feel guilty about Bucky and Natasha’s rushed return.
Steve had sent word to them that you’d woken up three days ago and they’d written back that they’d be home soon, but their letter arrived just before they would.
“They should enjoy their time alone together.” You lament.
“I’m sure they’ve made up for lost time.” Steve says with a smirk and you hit his gut knowing right where his mind has gone.
“They have every right to be eager. They’ve both wanted each other for so long. I don’t know how they could restrain themselves, to be honest.” You admit, cheeks flooding with heat as you give Steve a quick once over before going back to the breads and meats on your plate. “We should do something for them.”
“I already have.” Steve gets up and sits at a smaller desk that he’s had moved into his room so that he can be around you and Maggie as much as he wants while still dealing with Kingdom business. “I’ve given them a cottage up in the hills. It needs work, but Natasha and Bucky have asked me to hold off on orders for the renovation. I’m sure they’d like to decorate their home in their own style.”
“By cottage, do you mean a like Empire Cottage? Or like my home in Bright Rise?” You tease.
Steve huffs a laugh at your sass but continues to write busily while also keeping track of your conversation.
“Something in between. It’s much smaller than my mother’s cottage, but much larger than your small home. Should I pay to have that one renovated for you?” Steve wonders, the scratch of his quill coming a stop as he looks over at you while you chew in confusion.
“Why would we renovate my hut in Bright Rise?” You wonder.
Steve shrugs, setting his quill down as he leans back against his seat.
“I know that you have many unsavory memories there, but the village is quaint, and the scenery is lovely. If our daughter should ever want to know where her mother grew up, it might be nice to have a place we can all go should we decide to stay.” Steve smiles at you.
You lick your lips, swallow hard, and try to keep the sadness from showing on your face too much.
“Steve, I do not own that land. The house…was abandoned. I moved in there because nobody cared about it or me. The land still technically belongs to the person who left it there. It’s not mine to truly claim or to make a home. It was the shelter I needed-we needed at that time, but it was never my home. Not like here.” You explain.
Steve’s eyes sparkle mischievously before he nods. “Alright, we won’t renovate that hut.”
Despite his words, you know that he’s planning something. You recognize that glint in his eyes but don’t press the matter. You’d like to spend these moments with him in peace for as long as you can. Eventually you know that you’ll need to start speaking up, but just for now while your little one sleeps and your breakfast is tasty and the morning is so quiet, you want to cherish it.
As he leans over to resume his writing, there’s a knock on the door that puckers his brow. “Who could that be?”
Grandmother had already come to make her daily visit and Natasha and Bucky are not due until tomorrow…
Steve is up, pulling the door open just a crack as he peeks. Suddenly his back relaxes—or do his shoulders slump?—and with a sigh he looks at you and rolls his eyes.
“It’s for you.” He says, voice flat and full of annoyance.
As you chew the last of your toast, your curiosity is quenched as Thor’s smiling face pokes through the door.
“Little Bird!” He greets then lumbers through the door.
He’s a vision in a comfortable looking red tunic that fastens with golden buttons all the way up the high neck. Under that he wears a soft white shirt, long puffed sleeves carefully folded up to his elbows exposing thick veiny forearms with what looks like very fine golden hair. The blonde on his head is freshly washed, braided on one side and his cheeks are flushed with pink.
He’s already been digging into the ale.
“Are you seriously here to see me while you’re drunk?!” You demand, extremely happy to see him despite his state of inebriation.
“What?” He gasps, stopping at the foot of your bed. “I would never do you the dishonor of coming to see you in a drunken state.”
You squint at him and see that he’s not really drunk. There’s definitely alcohol in his system but it hasn’t impaired him.
Your lips break into a wide smile and Thor rumbles a laugh, pushing Steve aside as he hurries to sit beside you and pull you into an awkward hug over your empty tray of food.
He frowns, looking down at the obstacle and quickly grabs it then thrusts it into Steve’s chest as he walks by to move back to his desk.
“Get rid of this will you?” Thor orders, then settles in beside you more comfortably and pulls you into a rib cracking hug.
Steve glares at the tray then protests loudly when Thor hugs you.
“Thor! Be gentle! She’s still recovering from her attack and giving birth.” Steve gripes, moving to his desk where he drops the tray a little too loudly.
There’s a whimper from the cradle to your left and you quickly pull from Thor’s arms to take your little one from her bed and into your own supportive embrace.
She begins to coo and nearly begins to cry but as you settle back into Thor’s waiting arm, you reach up and trace the curve of her little nose from the tippy top all the way to the bottom.
She settles quickly, little hiccups of her breath escaping her rosebud lips as her eyes shut once more. She continues to breathe like that, a small wheeze of baby noise floating up to enchant all three of you as she sleeps.
“I’m sorry, Y/N.” Steve worries, moving closer to look her over.
You’re already shaking your head. “No. She’s alright. Just startled.”
Steve bites his lip. “I’m sorry my Maggie.”
Your heart goes into arrest and then you remember that it’s your little Maggie too that he means, and you feel relief calm your nerves.
“Maggie?” Thor asks, looking from you to Steve and then to the baby. “You didn’t seriously name her Margaret, did you?”
The anger in Thor’s voice is frightening and the air is suddenly filled with that same charge from his lightning.
“I chose it.” You say quickly, reaching over to place your hand over his.
He flips it over and takes yours, holding it back while he gives it a little squeeze.
“I wanted to name her Margaret. I couldn’t think of any other name that fit.” You explain. “She was important to more than just Steve, Thor. And she was strong and capable. I want our little Maggie to also be everything that Margaret was.”
Thor accepts your explanation, but he purses his lips for a second as he looks down at your beautiful Princess.
“Perhaps a little sweeter? A little gentler?” He suggests.
You almost speak, but Steve beats you to it. “Just like her mother. She’s perfection, Thor. Isn’t she gorgeous?”
All of you are watching her, eyes full of hearts for your little girl. In unison, smiles spread across your lips.
“She is indeed.” Thor agrees, then gives you a squeeze. “Congratulation, Little Bird. You’ve done a swell job.”
You smile wide as you meet his eyes. “I couldn’t have done it without Steve. He was there with me from beginning to end.”
“Not the very beginning.” Steve laments, moving closer to the two of you before stopping to caress the back of your head.
“You were there when it mattered.” You assure him.
“You did have us quite worried.” Thor tells you, frowning as he tears his eyes from your daughter to look at you. “How do you feel?”
“I’m tired.” You admit, feeling exhausted for reasons you don’t understand. “But otherwise, I’m alright.”
“I’m glad Lady Carter was there to help you.” Thor admits.
“Me too.” You nod. “Is she still here, Steve?”
“She is.” He moves back to his desk and settles in for more work. “She’s been waiting for you to feel better. She’d like an audience with you.”
“What?” You gasp, holding your baby closer. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier? She’s been waiting a whole week?”
“There’s no rush.” Steve looks downright confused with your reaction and blinks as he tries to understand it.
“Send her in, Steve.”
Thor begins to rise. “I’ll come back later. To see you and the little one. I’m off to Malibia.”
“Why?” You fuss, reaching to take his hand as he stands.
“You’ve got a very stubborn sister who demands to come see you and the Princess or she will cut off her hair and dance naked for all the guard to see. Or that’s what Tony has said she has threatened to do.” Thor chuckles. “I should get her here before she makes good on her word. Tony doesn’t think she will, but Pepper promises that Morgana will not hesitate.”
You’re laughing too by the time he finishes. “I don’t doubt it. Hurry back, Thor. I’ve missed you.”
He leans down to kiss the back of your hand and then gives Steve a quick friendly nod—Steve returns it though there s a small bit of ice in his eyes at that kiss to your hand—before sweeping from the room as quickly as he descended upon it.
“Why didn’t you tell me about Sharon?” You gripe, turning your head to look at Steve who looks thoughtful.
“I didn’t want you getting upset.” He admits. “I want you happy and healthy with our baby, marching through the castle making all of the guard swoon with both your beauty.”
“Steve-” You begin only to stop as the door is knocked on a second time.
“That’ll be Sam.” Steve informs you. “Come in, Sam.”
Sure enough, Sam moves through the doors, stopping with his hand still on the handle.
“I can’t wait until Barnes is back so that I can get back to my real work and stop operating as your personal doorman.” Sam teases.
“He’s married now. You’ll have to take over.” Steve says, returning the playful tone. “Is Sharon free?”
Sam glances at you nervously then back at his King. “Yes, she is. Why?”
“Send her in, Samuel.” Steve orders, putting an end to whatever questions Sam has but isn’t asking.
“Have you seen our Maggie, Sam?” You ask, wondering if Steve has told all of your friends to stay away while you recover.
Sam’s eyes sparkle in excitement but then dull as he hesitates when you speak her name.
“M-Maggie?” Sam asks, edging his way towards you.
“We’ve named her Margaret.” You explain. “I wanted to honor her in some way.”
“Hm.” Sam says, but turns his eyes on your daughter. “She’s as cute as a baby bunny.”
You smile and nod. “Can I count on you, Sam? To protect those most precious to me?”
The request is random, and you know that this freezes both Sam and Steve as they digest the words you’ve spoken.
“I haven’t made many decrees as Queen of Broklin, but you are a man with unparalleled skills. Peter will always be here to protect me and by extension, Maggie but I need someone who will only think of her. I need someone who will drop everything and put her life before everyone else’s. Even Steve and I.” You clarify.
“Can you do it, Sam? Can you be her protector? Her guardian angel?” You ask, watching his guarded expression as it softens and then settles on your little one again.
“Of course, I will.” He reaches down to stroke her cheek. She doesn’t stir. “I will defend her, with my life.”
You and Steve exchange a look of relief before you relax again, adjusting Maggie a little closer to your chest.
She coos but continues to sleep.
“Sam?” Steve says, “Please send Sharon in for her Majesty.”
Sam gives you a bow then goes to fetch Sharon who actually doesn’t take long to arrive. You’d be lying if you said your nerves weren’t on edge as the knock finally comes. Steve clears his throat and looks to meet your gaze.
“Shall I leave you two?” He wonders, giving you the option of facing Sharon alone.
“I have nothing to say to her that you can’t hear.” You assure him.
“Come in, Sharon.” Steve calls.
With your little girl in your arms, you have all the strength to face the woman who saved your life. Still, with your belly still there along with your exhaustion, you can’t help but feel a little jealous of the sleek black dress that she’s wearing, raven feathers along the shoulders to accentuate the curve of her neck. Her blonde hair is pulled back a little, black pearl clasps holding it in place.
Her cheeks are flush with a nervous blush, her eyes wide and searching. She finds Steve first and smiles brightly at the sight of him.
“Steve…” She begins, moving in further until finally she scans the bed and finds you sitting up, tense. Maggie fast asleep. “Your Majesty.”
The sudden frenzy in her eyes makes you feel slightly guilty.
“Hello, Lady Carter.” You offer a smile.
“Oh, please, call me Sharon.” She looks chastised though you haven’t said anything to indicate any displeasure with her.
“Sharon…” You begin, taking a deep breath before sparing Steve a glance. He’s so polite however, that you find him staring intently at his paperwork, his quill propped to write but it isn’t moving. He’s listening hard, trying not to look. “Come closer.”
You tap the right side of your bed and watch her until she’s sitting beside you, her eyes glue to Maggie.
Rather than introduce her right away, you want to say what you need to before you let the pleasantries really flow.
With her right beside you, you feel a sense of calm overcome you and you lean back against the headboard to relax.
“Are you alright?” She worries, probably seeing how tired you are.
“I’m a little tired. The past week hasn’t been the easiest for me.” You smile. “Sharon, I feel I need to thank you.”
“Oh, no. Your Majesty-”
“Please,” You sigh. “Let me finish.”
She shuts her lips, pressing them into a straight line to force herself quiet.
“You and I didn’t exactly start off on the right foot.” You acknowledge.
And despite your desires for her to stop speaking, “Your Majesty, I should apologize. I had no right invading the sanctity of your marriage. Really, I’m very sorry to you both.”
“Sharon…” You try again.
“Right, sorry.” She bites her lip.
“All I want to say is that I am so thankful for your presence at my father’s castle. If it had not been for you, we would not be here. You saved my daughter’s life, if there is anything that you want or need, I will do all that I can to ensure that you have it.” You promise, then look to Steve who is now watching both of you intently. “Well, anything except for my husband.”
Your teasing makes her smile and you laugh with her when she chuckles.
“Truly.” You try again. “Thank you. I can never repay you for what you’ve given me.”
Sharon can only smile.
In your arms, Maggie stirs and her little eyes open. She almost seems to be in a daze, her eyes moving but unfocused. She shuts them again but makes more noise.
“Well, hello there, my Princess.” You greet her, and she coos in return her eyes open once more as she searches for you.
“She’s beautiful, your Majesties. She looks like you, Steve.” Sharon admires. “Have you chosen a name?”
“We have.” You nod, looking to Steve who smiles with only half of his mouth. It’s a sheepish grin, proud and happy. “We named her Margaret.”
Sharon’s face is robbed of all expression as she tears her eyes from your daughter to you, Steve, and then back to the little one in your arms.
“You named her after Maggie?” She asks, voice weak and quiet with emotion.
“Considering the fight she was born in, I thought it was appropriate to name her after another strong warrior.” You boast.
Another knock on your door steals the focus from your baby as Sam re-enters the room in a hurry.
“Sam?” Steve checks.
Sam moves to him and hands him a scroll, seal already broken but says nothing.
Suddenly wary, you and Sharon both watch the two men as Steve reads for only a few moments before he’s up out of his seat and flying from the room with Sam hot on his heels.
“Steve?” You call after him, a deep worry settling into the base of your stomach.
“Don’t worry.” Sharon offers. “Steve’s dramatic. I’m sure it’s nothing.”
As much as you wish you could believe her, you know very well that Sharon is only trying to appease you and that something must be very wrong.
