Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1059252.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Underage, Rape/Non-Con
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Marvel_Cinematic_Universe
  Relationship:
      Steve_Rogers/Tony_Stark
  Character:
      Steve_Rogers, Tony_Stark, Howard_Stark, Maria_Stark, Obadiah_Stane,
      Pepper_Potts, James_"Rhodey"_Rhodes, James_"Bucky"_Barnes, Peggy_Carter,
      Clint_Barton, Natasha_Romanov, Phil_Coulson, Nick_Fury, Maria_Hill, Bruce
      Banner, Thor_(Marvel), Indries_Moomji
  Additional Tags:
      Wall_Sex, Rimming, Dirty_Talk, Corporal_Punishment, Whipping, Dom/sub
      Undertones, Secret_Relationship, but_not_really, Statutory_Rape, dub_con
      blowjob
  Series:
      Part 1 of My_Life_Belongs_To_My_Country,_But_My_Heart_Will_Always_Be
      Yours
  Collections:
      2013_Captain_America/Iron_Man_Big_Bang
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-11-26 Words: 34652
****** My Life Belongs To My Country, But My Heart Will Always Be Yours ******
by Renai_chan
Summary
     Crown Prince Anthony of Stark tries to keep his relationship with Sir
     Steven Rogers a secret from his father, but when Archduke Obadiah
     Stane is assigned to be his guardian in the king’s absence, their
     relationship becomes Obadiah’s leverage for control.
     Accompanying Art by scarab: click_here)
Notes
     This fic is probably my most favorite work to date. I hadn't put as
     much love into it as it deserves because toward the latter part of my
     writing it, my real life went to shit. But it's still my most
     favorite thing and I loooooves it. Hopefully, you guys love it too.
     I'd like to thank Sara and Kelly for betaing my work for me--you guys
     rock especially fantastically! But most especially, I'd like to thank
     my lovely artist Scarab for putting up with my scatterbrained-ness
     and still giving my fic the art of my dreams. You are an utterly
     gorgeous person! (And if you, my readers, don't check_her_art_out and
     tell her how lovely it is, I'll be terribly, terribly disappointed in
     you. *makes a disappointed face*)
     I had planned to make this a longer fic, but midway through writing
     the second half, I realized it no longer fit with the original plot,
     so I may or may not have an extra five thousand words in my hands
     that may or may not become a sequel for this. We'll see. Plus, I also
     have about six side stories in mind covering non-Stony relationships
     (spoilers (or not): Natasha/Bucky, Bruce/Betty, Pepper/Rhodey, Thor/
     Jane, Clint/Phil). I'm being pretty ambitious and optimistic,
     actually, considering I haven't the slightest interest in writing het
     fics, but my ideas for their back/side stories (esp. Natasha/Bucky)
     are particularly interesting (for me anyway). The completion of these
     writing is going to depend on how shit 2014 is going to be.
An arrow landed on his desk, embedded deeply in the wood a mere inch from his
pinky. There was a second's moment of indescribable panic, a scream caught
halfway in his throat, as his brain reminded him that he was sitting much too
close to the window—something he'd been reminded not to do far too many times
because it put him at the perfect angle for an assassin's attack—before he
caught sight of the trademark purple vanes of the arrow's tail, and he laughed
in frantic relief.
 
He grabbed the arrow and yanked it none too gently out of the woodwork (of
his very expensive desk. Someone was going to be in trouble). Around the shaft,
just below the stylized head (which was another trademark of his father's
prized archer), there was a piece of paper wrapped. He pried it off quickly,
curiosity overtaking care, and rolled it open to read the neat scrawl.
 
You've been holed away in your laboratory for far too long, my beautiful
prince. Come find me.
 
It wasn't signed, but it didn't have to be; he'd recognize the elegant
script—and the endearment—anywhere, and at it, an ecstatic smile stole over his
face. He grabbed the nearest quill and ripped off a blank bit of parchment from
his notes before scrawling his response (his own penmanship was nowhere near as
nice as that on the note he received, but he didn't mind all that much). Then
he grabbed a weighted item of little importance—a hunk of iron from one of his
projects—and wrapped the torn parchment around it, securing it with some
string.
 
He leaned out of the window (and ignored the mental image of his bodyguard
admonishing him about why he shouldn't do that, and God Almighty, do you want
to get killed? Do you want me to get killed? Because I am at the prime of my
life, and I have a promising future ahead of me. Please don't get into
situations where your father is going to decide to behead me. It was probably a
good thing he was alone in the workshop right now.), searching for the arrow's
source. With a grin, he aimed at the stocky, blond man who was leaning against
a tree trunk, cleaning his fingernails with the head of an identical arrow, and
threw the hunk of iron at him with all his might.
 
The shot was clumsy, and he didn't, not for a second, think it would hit him.
True enough, the iron fell onto and buried itself half an inch into the ground
some three feet away from the closest foot. The man was neither surprised nor
particularly bothered. He picked up the object casually and inspected the
attached note before seeing his name printed in big bold letters on the
outside. He tugged the paper from beneath the string and read the message
inside briefly, then grinned, looked up, and saluted casually, before sheathing
his arrow, pocketing the note, and walking away.
 
Is this what archers do in the off season, Barton? Play Cupid for star-crossed
lovers? it had said. P.S. You owe me a desk. 
 
Tony grinned to himself and then turned his back to the window and made his way
out into the hallway. He found just the man he needed, the head of his guard,
standing just outside the door, talking quietly with one of their newest
members.
 
"I want to take a walk, James. Any particular place you would recommend?" he
asked casually. Lieutenant James Rhodes, a tall, dark skinned man of twenty
eight, glanced at him, and his lips gave a tiny, almost invisible quirk.
 
"A walk, little prince? A sudden change of heart on your health and fitness,
have you?" he asked teasingly, and Tony glared at him. He'd been trying to get
Rhodey to drop the nickname ever since he'd hit puberty, but after four
unsuccessful years, Tony had long since given up. It didn't mean, however, that
he had to like it.
 
"Yes, Rhodes, a walk. And I’m asking for your opinion on where I should visit.
Or should I ask the Lady Virginia?" he asked again, trying to be stern about
it. But really, when someone has known you for almost a decade, ever since you
were a snot-nosed spoiled brat of a child (not that he'd changed a whole lot
since then), it was pretty hard to be taken seriously. Rhodey chuckled and only
barely refrained from ruffling his hair because he was in the presence of a new
member.
 
"The weather is fantastic today. A stroll by the lake would be in perfect
order,” he said instead. Tony nodded in approval and, without further word,
started through one of the castle’s many halls. The clunking of Rhodey’s armor
echoed around them as he followed, but the other guard, it seemed, was left to
stand guard at his lab. “Should I ask someone to fetch Pepper?” he asked while
they made their way through the halls. It took Tony all of a second to make a
decision about that.
 
“God, no,” he said quickly, a healthy dose of fear and anxiety in his tone as
was only appropriate when dealing with the formidable force that was Lady
Virginia Potts, his… well, not lady-in-waiting because he certainly wasn’t a
woman, but the female equivalent of his valet. “Leaver her be. I promised her
an afternoon to herself, and if she were forced to tear herself out of the
library, I’m very sure she’d tear my hair out.”
 
“Good choice,” Rhodey said after a moment’s pause to consider the mental image.
 
“How long has he been back?” Tony asked, changing topics as soon as they were a
good distance away outside and perfectly alone in the east gardens. By then,
Rhodey had caught up with him and was walking at his side—not proper for a
guard to do, even if he was the head, but acceptable for a best friend, which
Rhodey was. He had known Tony since he was seven, after all, and had been at
his side for every major event of his life since then. In that time, he had
become one of Tony’s closest confidantes… even if he was twelve years older and
about a foot taller.
 
“About three hours now. Commander Carter had him stay back for a bit of
debriefing,” Rhodey answered, not even having to ask who Tony was talking
about. The prince huffed.
 
“I would think that woman takes perverse pleasure in purposely holding him back
except I know that she doesn’t know,” he said a little petulantly, but then it
had been three weeks, and while Tony fully supported his decision to become a
proper knight, there was only for so long Tony was willing to—no, was able to
wait (no one had ever accused Tony of being selfless). Rhodey coughed lightly,
prompting Tony to send him the stink eye. “Does she not?”
 
“Not that I know of?” Rhodey tried. Tony stopped and crossed his arms over his
chest.
 
“What is that supposed to mean?” he demanded. His bodyguard sighed loudly, an
admittance of defeat.
 
“You forget, I think that she technically has Natasha under her command,”
Rhodey pointed out, and of course Tony had. There was literally nothing Natasha
did not know or could not find out, which made her an indispensible spy, but a
threat to everybody’s secrets, be they embarrassing, dangerous or what-have-
you, and if she knew, it wasn’t far off to think that Peggy did too.
 
Not that he was embarrassed for his secret or anything (quite the opposite
really) but he was rather wary of it reaching his father’s ears. He’d been
repeatedly told that, as the crown prince of Stark, he had to keep the position
at his side vacated until they find the perfect match for him—romance was only
an option for peasants—in addition to the fact that any relationship was seen a
weakness, a target for silver-tongued politicians and other more sinister
threats.
 
“And who else is privy?” he asked carefully. Rhodey shrugged.
 
“Aside from Barton, Pepper, and I? Happy, maybe? Definitely Jarvis, but beyond
that, I cannot claim to know exactly. No one tells Pepper and I anything if
they don’t want it getting back to you because they know it won’t be long
before you, too, know about it.” Tony smiled in appreciation of the confession,
but the weakness of his smile only made Rhodey frown. He stopped and grasped
Tony’s shoulders, his eyes turning sincere. “Don’t concern yourself about it.
I’m fairly sure that while the corps are wagering on how long it’ll take before
Steven bucks up and asks the king for your hand (a blush crossed Tony’s
cheeks), none of them would ever do anything to hurt you, physically or
otherwise,” he said seriously, then thought to add in mischief, “Plus, they’re
pretty heavy Stony devotees.” Tony’s jaw dropped, and he gaped for a second.
 
“’Stony’?!” he near screeched, sending Rhodey into howling fits of laughter.
 
“Yeah. You know, ‘Steven’ ‘Anthony’… ‘Stony,’” he answered. Tony blinked in an
appalled manner before stalking the rest of the way to the lake through the
labyrinth of hedges while muttering ‘Stony?! Who on God’s green Earth came up
with that? I’ll be damned if it wasn’t Dugan.’
 
The castle’s lake wasn’t the largest in the kingdom—hell, not even in the
capital state—at best, it was really only a very large pond, large enough to
occupy at least a third of the castle’s acreage, stretching beyond the east
gardens and wrapping around the building to the southern gates. In the
afternoon light, with the sun just about to set, its surface sparkled brightly,
a sight made only more beautiful by the blossoming lotuses and the swans
swimming about.
 
With a lack of specific direction, Tony chose to head to the gazebo situated on
the water’s edge. It was small, made of carved white marble and wrapped in
vines, making it pretty, but secluded which was one of its more appealing
characteristics. Tony used it often when he needed to get away from court for a
bit.
 
It was disappointingly empty, though, but because he wasn’t sure where else to
go, he stepped up and inside just to make sure that it really was empty and to
take a moment and enjoy the lake’s placid scenery, then he moved to turn to
look at his other haunts.
 
As he did—or tried to do so—a pair of strong arms wrapped around his shoulders,
and a big body pressed up against his back, moving him closer to the gazebo’s
railing and pinning him there for all the flowers and fowl to see. It was
surprising and quick, but Tony didn’t find himself caught in even a single
ounce of fear of the pure, physical power that thrummed from the man behind
him. Instead, a wide grin settled over his lips, and he melted back into the
arms that held him.
 
A pair of lips caressed the skin of his neck and a warm breath gushed over his
ear as the other man spoke.
 
“Not a day has gone by that I haven’t thought of you, darling prince.” Tony
shivered in delight at the action and at the words, but managed to find it in
himself to respond.
 
“And yet you still find reasons to leave my side,” he said, intent to tease,
but knowing Steve would hear the truth in it anyway. Another kiss was pressed
to his neck.
 
“I would never leave you, Anthony. Not really,” he answered and then allowed
Tony to turn around. The prince lifted himself up on the balls of his feet to
press a more significant kiss onto the blond’s lips, and Steve cupped the back
of his head and wrapped an arm around his waist to secure the smaller man
against him while he returned it. They stood like that, motionless save for
their questing, yielding mouths and tongues, for long minutes, basking in the
feel of each other’s arms. And then Tony pulled back and buried his face in
Steve’s chest.
 
“I’m glad you’re back,” he confessed while Steve stroked his hair and pressed a
kiss to it.
 
“Come with me,” the taller man said, stepping away, but clasping a hand around
Tony’s which he used to lead the prince to a clear patch of grass a few yards
away. On the bank of the lake, beneath a low-hanging willow, food was set up
for two, cheeses and fruits and breads and wine and several sweets from the
borders that Tony was already craving to eat, but Tony couldn’t see who had set
it out nor guarded it from the local wildlife (There was sure to be someone
around, but he trusted Steve and Rhodey to have chosen only those who had his
best interests in mind to watch over him). “I had the kitchens prepare us a
picnic basket, but Dame Margaret managed to waylay me at the time I planned for
us to eat it. Maybe we can get a few bites in before you have to attend
dinner.”
 
“Well, I certainly hope we can get more than a few bites in,” Tony answered
with a leer which made Steve laugh. The knight sat first and then tugged Tony
onto his lap so that the prince straddled him. Tony’s robes got in the way, but
it took only a minute to adjust them and settle his lover before they were
kissing again. Steve grasped his hips, pinning him in place, and Tony cupped
Steve’s cheeks, pulling him closer. Their mouths parted almost immediately, and
their tongues slid against each other’s with no ounce of hesitation.
 
God, how Tony had missed Steve.
 
With his training, he’d been leaving for longer and longer times when they
would send him to patrol borders and experience actual combat first hand. It
was luck that the kingdom was currently in a state of peace, but Tony was
afraid that one day, when war finally came, he’d be gone for years upon
years—or worse, forever.
 
Sometimes, he wanted to be selfish and ask Steve to give up his dream of being
a knight of the army corps, his father’s specialized army division, and he knew
if he did, Steve would agree in an instant. He didn’t, though, because he may
be a spoiled, selfish brat of a prince, but he wanted to give Steve more than
that. Steve deserved more than that.
 
When they were young, Steve had always been too small and sickly for his age,
but even then, against odds that would have put a halt to most other people, he
had always and passionately wanted to be a knight. Tony had met him when he was
five and Steve eleven, and Doctor Abraham Erskine, who was Steve’s adoptive
father, had just moved into the castle as the king’s personal physician. Tony
had spent days wandering around the castle, angling to bump into the blond boy
to whom he was never properly introduced and who fascinated him like no one
else.
 
As the prince, he was not wanting for playmates, every duke and count clamoring
to send their child up to the castle to become Tony’s best friend (it was, in
fact, exactly how he had met Pepper who did become just that), but those
children were almost always so boring and stuffy and simpering and always so
fixated on his status the way their parents raised them to be. But Steve…
 
Steve was timid and polite and had startlingly blue eyes. He had deep bags
under each one and wore humble clothes that were befitting a stable boy more
than the royal physician’s son. He shied away from Tony in a way no one else
had ever done and hid himself away from the prince and his haunts. And then one
day, Tony had seen him at the front edge of the southern woods practicing sword
parries and thrusts with a long stick until he was wheezing and coughing and
Dr. Erskine rushed out to berate him.
 
Tony came back the next day with two beautifully crafted practice swords of his
own, and they had been friends since.
 
He later found out that no one would take Steve as a page because he was too
sickly to be of any worth. But when Tony was eight and Steve fourteen, Steve
was sent away to serve as a squire for Dame Margaret Carter. She was a strong
woman, but undermined often on account of her gender. As such, not many people
would want their progeny to train under her. At first, she had been adamant not
to take on Steve. He hadn’t served as a page, he was small, and he was sickly,
and Peggy couldn’t afford to be held back by a poor squire. But Erskine was a
good friend, and it helped that Steve had a best friend in the prince, so Peggy
had conceded to take him on. Steve was gone for three years, the longest they’d
ever been apart since they met.
 
That time had been good to him. When he came back, he was a strapping young man
of seventeen with a stature befitting a knight of the highest order and the
physique of an Fontainian marble statue. Tony hadn’t cared about that then; he
only cared that he had his best friend back. But Steve was always busy helping
Peggy and didn’t have time for the young prince. In a fit of pique, Tony threw
tantrums and declared he wanted to live in the castle in the lands of Duchess
Viola (Pepper’s mother). It didn’t take much persuading to get the king to
agree (in fact, it didn’t take any persuading at all), so Tony was sent away,
returning only every few months when duties required.
 
His and Steve’s relationship grew distant over the course of the next few
years. They kept up with each other through letters and the occasional visit
when Tony was at the capital, but otherwise, they were busy with their own
work.
 
One summer, after Tony hadn’t returned for a good year and a half, they’d
stumbled upon each other in the hallways of the castle at the capital. Steve
had just been knighted, and Tony had turned fifteen. There was a moment’s pause
to acknowledge the time in which they hadn’t seen each other. Steve’s eyes were
still as startlingly blue as they had always been, his physique was still that
of a sculptor’s dreams, and his stature befit his new status more than ever.
 
This time around, Tony noticed.
 
And Steve noticed him right back.
 
“How long until you have to leave again?” Tony asked later when their boiling
hunger for each other had waned to a mere simmer. He was stretched out across
the length of Steve’s body, his elbows propped on the sculpted chest and his
fingers tracing abstract patterns on it. Steve lifted a grape to his lips which
he parted easily. He licked his lips just to watch Steve’s eyes fall to them.
 
“Dame Margaret says it won’t be for a while. You’re father’s leaving in a few
days for Asgard on King Odin’s invitation. She says I’m to stay here,” he said,
then his lips quirked. “To watch over you.” Tony scowled.
 
“I don’t need watching,” he said. “I’ve already too many people doing that.”
Then he smirked mischievously. “Unless there’s a different kind of watching
you’d like to do?” Steve laughed and hauled him closer for another kiss. Tony’s
lips were already tingling from their first hundred, but he didn’t deny the
knight another one.
 
“I don’t think there can ever be too many people watching over you,” the older
man said. “You have the slipperiness of a skink and the wiles of a fox.” Tony
looked horribly affronted, prompting Steve into a round of hysterical laughs
just before he rolled the both of them over and pinned Tony beneath him. He
kissed the prince again. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered tenderly, but what
his hands were saying were a whole other matter as they slipped between the
folds of Tony's robes and beneath the waist of his pants. The breath in Tony's
lungs caught in his throat as Steve's hand closed around him. Gently with his
mouth, Steve sucked the air right out.
 
"Steven?" came a quiet, polite interruption. “I don't think this is a good
place to start... well, that.” Steve only sighed loudly as he dropped his head
on his lover's shoulder, and Tony groaned.
 
"For God's sake, Barnes. Couldn't you have waited five goddamned minutes?" the
prince swore, then protested unintelligibly when Steve moved, but the soldier
was already pulling his hand away, so it was a lost cause.
 
"Apologies, your highness," Bucky answered, but there was a grin in his tone
that had Tony peeking an eye open to glare at him.
 
"That's not a language befitting a prince, Anthony," Steve reprimanded gently.
He sat up and tugged Tony up with him, oblivious (or, more accurately, subtly
amused) to the glare Tony turned to him. "And Bucky's right. Dinner's probably
been served. You'll be missed." Tony sighed in acquiescence and allowed Steve
to pull him to his feet, but not before he pulled him down for a last kiss, and
even when the kiss ended, Tony kept him close for a minute more, conveying in
that silence everything Tony couldn't say out loud in the presence of others.
There was a question in his mind that he willed over to Steve who seemed to
understand it despite the lack of words. "Yes, okay," he answered with
patronizing amusement on his lips, but eagerness in his tone. Then he turned to
Rhodey who had jogged up beside Bucky. “I’ll escort him back up to the castle.
Why don’t you go and rest?” Rhodey only scoffed.
 
“It amuses me that you actually believe that’s possible,” he answered, but he
bade his goodbyes anyway, as did Bucky, and they both walked off in the general
direction of the barracks. When they had departed, Tony grabbed Steve by the
front of his tunic and jerked him close.
 
“They’re gone. Can I show you now just how much I missed you?” he murmured then
licked his lips for good effect. It didn’t escape him when Steve’s eyes dropped
to his mouth.
 
“I—no,” the blond answered, jerking back and visibly reigning himself in. Tony
grinned. “No,” Steve repeated more firmly. “Your parents will be wondering
where you are. We should go.” And he actually walked away, making sure to tug
Tony along behind him by the hand. The prince pouted, but since Steve wasn’t
looking at him, it had little effect.
 
They made short work of the walk back through the gardens and up the entrance
steps, Steve dropping Tony’s hand and moving to his back at the first servant
they encountered. The pair headed toward the dining room where the royal family
took their meals when there were no guests, but before entering, Steve leaned
in just a little too close, but subtly so as not to draw attention from the
palace guards that flanked the doors.
 
“Leave your window unlocked tonight,” he murmured. Tony hid his grin and gave a
tiny, tiny nod. Then the guards spotted them and opened the doors to the dining
room.
 
“Good evening, father, mother,” the prince greeted breezily just before pausing
when he caught sight of a guest sitting to Howard’s right. Archduke Obadiah
Stane wasn’t an unfamiliar face, and Tony shouldn’t have been surprised to see
him. If his father was leaving the kingdom, then he was definitely going to
invite Obi to reside in the castle during his absence. Howard was of the
opinion that Tony needed constant guidance, especially in the matters of
running the country (which was true really), so he always asked his most
trusted nobleman—and Tony’s godfather—to act as Tony’s advisor in his absence.
“Archduke Stane,” Tony tacked on quickly.
 
“Sit down, darling, and join us,” Maria instructed gently. Tony obeyed without
further word, leaving Steve standing in the open doorway for all three adults
to catch sight of.
 
“Oh, hello, Steven. We hadn’t realized you had returned,” Howard greeted
absently before spearing a green bean and depositing it in his mouth. Tony
tried not to feel jealous at the attention bestowed on Steve, as miniscule as
it was—it wasn’t Steve’s fault and God knew he deserved every last glance he
got—but he hadn’t missed… couldn’t possibly miss how Howard had always tended
to favor Steve in a way he didn’t Tony.
 
To his own son, he was brisk and perfunctory—and sometimes harsh—as though he
expected Tony’s love and appreciation simply by virtue of being his parent and
as though every moment was an opportunity to train his son to be the same cold
bastard he was (several times, Howard had told him how being devoid of emotion
was necessary to be able to truly rule properly, so Tony’s opinion on this was
only fed and fattened). With Steve, however, he was accommodating and engaging,
often vocally, in what seemed an effort to garner Steve’s love. It was like
Steve was a place to relocate the affection he held back from Tony.
 
Steve bowed at the waist perfunctorily as he answered. As always, his voice was
neutral, polite, and indifferent, and Tony was grateful  that he never reveled
in Howard’s favor, especially not in his presence.
 
“Good evening, your majesties. I had only just, actually.”
 
“Do join us, Steven,” Maria invited, gesturing him over. “It’s been a while,
and I’d love to hear about you.” The servants were quick to add another place
setting beside Tony, and Steve looked uncertain for a moment, but he couldn’t
disobey a direct command, no matter how nicely it was said, so he nodded and
took his place. It wasn’t his first time to dine with the royal family, but it
had been quite a while since he had last done so.
 
“Peggy doesn’t give you a hard time I hope?” Howard asked.
 
“She only does what’s best, your majesty,” Steve said while a servant placed a
covered plate before him. It was opened up to reveal a poached quail with
boiled vegetables, just like everyone else’s meals. It still amazed Tony, even
after being exposed to it his entire life, just how efficient the staff was
(certainly, they hadn’t expected the additional guest?), but then Jarvis, the
chief steward of the house, had always been terribly efficient, and Tony knew
he ran the castle with an iron fist.
 
“Well, that’s certainly the most polite way I’ve heard of saying she works you
too hard,” Howard laughed. “But it must be certainly doing you well. I’ve
received only high praise about you from her.” Steve blushed at the words.
 
“I do my best, sir. It’s the only way I can repay her for taking me as her
protégé,” he explained with all due humility. “Although I’d like to take this
opportunity to express my profound gratitude at your favor in moving up my
ceremony.”
 
“Think nothing of it,” Howard waved the thanks away flippantly. “I have
certainly no regrets in knighting you earlier than usual.” That was the last he
said to Steve because he turned to Obadiah and said, “I remember Steve when he
was as small as Tony, only yea high, considering he’s six years older. Poor
little boy looked underfed.” Obadiah stole a glance at Steve before nodding in
agreement.
 
“Well, your good favor certainly seems to have done him well because he is, in
no sense of the word, little any longer,” the archduke answered.
 
“He’s a fine knight,” agreed Howard. Tony glanced at Steve who was eating
quietly, trying to seem like he wasn’t listening in on the conversation, but
blushing anyway. He nudged him with his knee and got nudged back even if there
was no outward indication of Steve having done so.
 
They quickly finished their meals through Howard and Obadiah’s casual
conversation, and then Steve stood and bowed deep at the waist.
 
“Thank you, your majesties, it was a wonderful meal,” he said correctly. “But
I’m afraid I must take my leave. Dame Margaret will be looking for me.”
 
“Good evening then, Steven,” Howard dismissed, and Tony watched him go, the
small twinge in his heart quelled only by the thought that Steve would find him
later.
 
“He’s a fine young man,” Obadiah said. “He’ll make a handsome husband for any
man or woman. Could I offer my son’s hand maybe?” Tony’s glance suddenly
snapped to the archduke then to Howard, dread pooling in his gut as they waited
for his answer. It would be well within the king’s rights to ask Steve to marry
anyone he desired, whether or not Steve was willing to do so. Howard laughed
uproariously.
 
“I see what you’re doing, Obi,” he said. “Stealing my finest knights for your
own? I certainly won’t allow that.” Obadiah smiled back, as if to convey that
what he said was a joke, but Tony could see the weakness in it.
 
“I assure you I have no such intentions, your majesty,” he said.
 
“Steven tells me you intend to leave for the Asgardian kingdom, father?” Tony
interrupted politely, steering the conversation away from dangerous grounds.
Howard’s attention quickly followed suit, but his amusement notably dimmed.
 
“Yes, Anthony. King Odin is celebrating his sixtieth and has only the grandest
ball planned. It’s a terrible inconvenience to cross the seas, but your mother
and I cannot easily deny such an invitation,” the king answered, graver this
time in tone. Tony nodded in solemn agreement. “We’ll be gone about three
months, during which time Obadiah will help you handle the kingdom in my stead.
You best listen to and take his advice.” Tony nodded again.
 
“Of course, father,” he agreed.
 
“Off you go then. Obi and I still have matters to discuss,” Howard shooed him
away with a wave of his hand. Tony, after kissing his mother’s cheek, went
without further word.
 
Beyond the two sentries at the door, he didn’t encounter anyone else as he
walked through the halls until he arrived at his room where two members of his
guard, Jasper and Happy, stood. He bade them a good evening and slipped through
the doors.
 
His room was one of the largest in the castle (second only to his parents’
room), clean (save for one corner that contained his studies and that he had
expressly forbade the servants from touching), and lit softly with candlelight,
but he didn’t dwell on the comfort it presented, not when there were more
interesting things happening tonight. He ignored the clothes spread out on the
bed for now and, after making sure the window was unlocked, slipped into the en
suite bath, stripping himself quickly of his clothes and sliding into the warm
water.
 
He couldn’t help the delighted sigh that escaped as the water enfolded him, and
his eyes slid shut to enjoy momentarily the relaxing heat. He didn’t want to
linger too long, though, so when he had gotten his fill of the warmth, he set
about scrubbing himself clean, anticipation propelling him to move faster than
usual. Water sloshed over the sides of the tub from his activity, but it wasn’t
his concern to clean it up. He climbed out of the bath a few minutes later,
slipped on the robe that hung by the door, and allowed himself a quick glance
into the mirror to make sure he looked deliciously moist before exiting the
bath and finding his way back into his bedroom.
 
Where Steve stood by the window.
 
A grin lit up the prince’s face at Steve’s lust-darkened eyes, but neither made
any move closer to the other. For quite a long moment, Tony waited for Steve’s
approach, and when it didn’t seem to be forthcoming, he lifted a hand to the
belt of his robe and undid it. Steve’s eyes never left his even as he allowed
the robe to slide off his shoulders and pool around his ankles. Steve didn’t
look away when Tony took one step to his right, climbed onto the bed, and
settled himself in the middle. He didn’t even look away when Tony splayed
himself open and lifted his arms over his head. It was almost disappointing,
really, but then Steve spoke.
 
“Ask me,” he said simply. Tony nearly moaned from the words alone, but this was
a game, a battle of wills, and he wasn’t going to lose.
 
“Ask you what, knight?” he asked instead in a faux-haughty tone, daring and
confident as if he wasn’t vulnerable in his nudity, as if he wasn’t begging for
Steve’s touch with the way he was positioned. Steve quirked a grin, but as he
moved closer to the bed to tower over Tony, his grin turned dark, sadistic. It
was an altogether frightening and exhilarating sight, and Tony felt
particularly vulnerable. He knew, however, without a shadow of a doubt that
Steve would do nothing to hurt him; the vulnerability only added to the thrill
he felt.
 
“Ask me, prince,” Steve said lowly, “to take you however I wish.” He pressed a
knee to the bed, dipping it as he shifted his weight onto it. “To touch you
wherever I want.” He pressed his other knee and a palm to the bed. “To spread
you open and pound you till you’re as loose as any prostitute on the street.”
He crawled over, sinuously, like a stalking panther, stopping when he was
hovering above the trembling genius. “Ask me to make you scream so that all the
castle will know their darling little prince is nothing but a wanton whore for
a common knight.”
 
Okay, so maybe Tony was going to lose this one.
 
“Yes,” he moaned, arching up into the space between them enticingly. “All of
that, yes. Please.” Steve grinned once more and then dipped his head to kiss
the pale, bared neck.
 
“Does that please you, little prince? That you’re regarded as nothing but my
toy, my plaything, to be used only when I want and nothing more?”
 
“Yessss… Jesus Christ, Steve, yes…!”
 
“Blasphemy,” was Steve’s amused whisper before he pressed down against the
writhing boy, pinning him from chest to groin to the bed.
 
……………
 
It wasn’t uncommon for Obadiah to bring his own knights when he stayed in the
castle. Tony was well acquainted, in fact, with the captain, Raza, who always
accompanied Obadiah on his trips. The man was tall and bald and imposing and
clearly of foreign origins. He was kind enough to Tony and never impolite, but
there was always a sinister feeling when he spoke.
 
It was that man who approached him in the gardens where he was testing out a
small flare—his own design to improve on those the soldiers had right now that
tended to explode when it got too hot.
 
“The archduke asks for you, Prince Anthony,” Captain Raza told him in that’s
same politely cold tone after he had straightened from his bow. Tony sighed and
nodded, leaving his experiment on the ground as he stood.
 
“Please ask Pepper to have someone bring my things to my workshop,” he
instructed a nearby servant before he followed Raza into the castle and up to
Obadiah’s appointed study where the archduke was perusing a book by the shelf.
 
“Anthony,” Obadiah said as soon as he stepped foot in the room. The door was
shut behind them, and Tony watched Obadiah stroll about the room absently while
reading the book he held in his hands. “You tutor has told me you’ve failed to
show for your studies today. May I ask why?” Obadiah looked up at him and set
the book down on the desk. Tony crossed his arms over his chest and frowned.
 
“Maybe because she no longer has anything to offer me? I’m undeniably smarter
than she can ever hope to be, archduke. Not that she was anything spectacular
to begin with,” he answered.
 
“Of course you are, Anthony, and no one can deny it, but you must also
understand that there are things in life that cannot be understood by sheer
intelligence,” Obadiah returned, seating himself in the chair behind the desk
as he regarded Tony with amused tolerance. “Your studies go further than mere
science and arithmetic and writing. She is there to give you more experience in
other more important matters, like lawmaking and taxation and politics and
etiquette. These are necessary for your future as the next king of Stark.”
 
“I’m sixteen, Obadiah. I’m not taking over the throne yet. I’ll have plenty of
time to learn those things,” Tony said. He was a little petulant, but really.
He was designing better arms for his soldiers—wasn’t that of equal importance
(or more!) to frivolities like court etiquette?
 
“We shouldn’t leave things like that to chance. You’ll never know when you
might ascend to the throne, especially when your parents are out of the
kingdom; you know their travel poses a greater threat to their lives than if
they had stayed.”
 
“Then get me a better tutor!” Tony cried in exasperation. “Lady Indries is dim
and incompetent, and I don’t think she understands what I’m saying half the
time. I want that scientist from Gulmira… What was his name? Yinsen, I think.
I’m pretty sure he’ll be able to teach me a thing or two—”
 
“You do not need a new tutor, Anthony,” Obadiah snapped, cutting Tony off, and
rose from the chair. He was a big man and towered over the short prince easily.
“Lady Indries is an intelligent member of my court and highly regarded as the
best tutor in my duchy. She has been Ezekiel’s tutor for many years before I
offered her services to your father who agreed with me about her capacity to
tutor you. She can provide you with the best education this kingdom has to
offer, and if you do not understand that, maybe it is you who has a learning
difficulty and not she.” Tony gaped at him, affronted at the insinuation that
he was dim when he was so very, very far from that.
 
“I’ll be having words about this with my father when he gets back,” he finally
said testily. “In the meantime, I refuse to participate in any more sessions
with her. Do what you must.” Then he glared at the archduke and spun on his
heel without saying further word. Before he could go any further, though,
Obadiah grabbed him by the shoulder and jerked him around so that they could
see eye-to-eye. The archduke’s eyes flashed dangerously.
 
“I’ve been installed here to watch over you and provide you guidance. How am I
supposed to do such if you continue to ignore what I say and disrespect my
authority?” he growled. Tony quickly overcame his surprise at the rough
handling, although there was still a small amount of fear pooling in the pit of
his stomach, and leveled him a glare.
 
“And I am your prince, archduke,” was all he said. Obadiah’s hand tightened on
his shoulder briefly before he straightened out and led Tony out the door. The
royal struggled minutely, but in the end decided there wasn’t anything he could
do without turning the whole castle onto him, so he followed the not-so-subtle
guidance of the archduke and his captain around familiar hallways. It wasn’t a
path Tony usually took, but one he recognized with growing dread, and his
struggles started anew.
 
“Where are you taking me?!” he demanded loudly. It was rhetorical because he
knew they were headed to the dungeons. His yell went unheeded as there was a
silence around them that implied that beyond their group of three, no other
person was milling about to hear him. The fear in his stomach heightened into
panic, and he readied himself to scream for help, but Obadiah’s grip tightened
on his shoulder painfully, and he gasped instead.
 
“You will not be harmed, Anthony,” Obadiah said, which was ironic since his
hand was doing precisely that. “As it is not my place or my will to do so. But
you must understand that you cannot go unpunished for your transgressions for
how will you learn from your mistakes?”
 
“Only you have committed any transgressions here, Stane, and if you value
leniency, you will let me go and apologize!” Tony struggled against the older
man until Raza felt that he needed to remind Tony to keep still. Tony froze at
the nudging of the hilt of Raza’s sword in his side, and Obadiah made a noise
of satisfaction.
 
“I’m glad you’re seeing it my way,” he said and led Tony down a flight of
stairs and up to a wooden door. Tony had been down here precisely three
times—once with his father who felt it necessary that he be educated on the
contents of the castle and twice on his own for experimental purposes—so he
wasn’t quite familiar with the place. Two of Obadiah’s guards stood in front of
a door, and they saluted in greeting before one of them pushed the door open
and gave them a view of what was inside: Steve facing them on his knees, naked
and strung up by his wrists that were chained to the walls. His blue eyes
blazed in anger, but he said and did nothing except bore holes into Obadiah’s
head with his gaze.
 
Tony gasped in horror, jerking out of Obadiah’s grip and inadvertently into
Raza’s chest. It took him a moment to gather his bearings, and when he did, he
ran inside and pulled ineffectually at the chains.
 
“Let him go!” he yelled, but all six men—Steve, Obadiah, Raza, the two guards
out front and the one inside—ignored him. “I demand that you let him go!” Tony
repeated, still pulling at the chains before deciding it was futile and moving
in search of the key or a hatchet or anything that could free the soldier.
Obadiah pulled him by the back of his robes and held him at his side.
 
“You will continue to study under Lady Indries, won’t you, Anthony? And you’ll
attend each lesson on time and ready, and you will not question my authority on
this,” he said evenly.
 
“You are insane if you think I believe this is about her or what happened five
minutes ago! You set this up!” Tony snapped. Then Obadiah carded his hand
through Tony’s hair and jerked it back sharply so that they were eye-to-eye.
Tears sprung to his eyes from the harsh pull, but Obadiah’s eyes were
glittering with warning.
 
“I’ve known your father for over four decades,” he hissed. “He trusts me beyond
anyone else in this goddamned world. Who do you think he’s going to believe
when you tell him about these accusations? You? Or is he going to believe his
closest advisor and friend when I tell him his son is a spoiled brat that needs
to be disciplined and that this is the most effective way possible? Do you
think he’s going to care that a lowly knight is scourged? Do you think he’s
going to care that he’s your best friend? When the future of the kingdom lies
on his ability to suffer for your mistakes?”
 
“Yes. He’s going to care about what I say,” Tony said with all confidence he
did not possess. He would beg his father if need be, make promises he didn’t
know if he could keep. The answer, though, did not seem to deter Obadiah who
only grinned evilly, shark-like.
 
“How much do you wager he’d listen to you when he finds out that his only son,
his heir to the throne, spreads his legs at every available opportunity and
begs for this knight’s cock like a common street whore?” Tony’s blood ran cold.
“That’s right,” Obadiah whispered. “He’s going to banish your pretty knight and
marry you off to the best possible option. Maybe me if you’re lucky, but I’m
still trying to decide whether or not I’m willing to settle for used goods.”
 
“You… you wouldn’t…” Tony whispered. Obadiah petted his hair.
 
“Of course I wouldn’t, Anthony. I’m not an unreasonable man. I only ask that
you listen to my very sound advice because I do this for your own good!” And he
made it sound like he did. What was the harm, after all, in learning about
taxation and court etiquette and politics? How would it hurt to learn it from
Lady Indries Moomji rather than someone else? Obadiah was experienced and wise
from his years; he certainly knew what he was doing, didn’t he? He wasn’t
asking Tony to hand over the kingdom, just to learn from his tutelage.
 
“No, Tony! Don’t—AH!” A whistle was the only forewarning and then a crack of a
whip was heard as it slashed over Steve’s back.
 
“Stop!” Tony screamed, jerking forward, but Obadiah’s hand was still in his
hair, holding him in place. The guard did stop, though, looking to Obadiah for
confirmation. The older man nodded just as Tony turned to him. “Why is this
necessary? I promise, I swear I’ll listen and take your advice. Please,
Obadiah,” he begged. Obadiah hugged him.
 
“Shhh, little one,” he murmured gently. “This is only to encourage you remember
your mistakes and avoid doing them again. Just so long as you’re obedient, he
won’t be hurt, do you understand?” Tony nodded vigorously, but pulled back
quickly enough because hugging Obadiah after everything he’d said and done made
his skin crawl. “Good boy,” Obadiah said. “Now watch.” And then the whip
cracked once more, wrenching a shout from Steve. His body jolted forward,
trying to avoid the source of pain, but the chains held him in place.
 
It cracked a third time and a fourth time and a fifth time, and on the fifth,
the tears that Tony had been holding in finally fell silently. The guard
continued to strike Steve’s back, ten times, twenty times until Steve’s throat
was hoarse from shouting. Even from the front, Tony could see blood sliding
down his thighs. His arms were decorated too with drips of blood from where the
manacles cut into his skin.
 
On the twenty third stroke, Tony choked a sob and slapped a hand over his mouth
to muffle it.
 
On the thirtieth, the whips stopped.
 
Obadiah pulled his face back up to look into it, and Tony could see his eyes
alighting at his tear-streaked face.
 
“What have we learned, Anthony?” Dutifully, he responded.
 
“That I’m—I’m to attend all classes with Lady Indries, on time and prepared.”
 
“And that we won’t be letting your father know about this.”
 
“And that I won’t tell my father,” he mimicked in a defeated tone. Obadiah
released him and allowed him to bow his head.
 
“Or anyone else.”
 
“Or anyone else,” he copied quietly, almost in a whisper. Obadiah patted his
head.
 
“Good boy,” he said and walked out the door with nary a stutter in his step.
 
As soon as the door shut, Tony fell to his knees in front of Steve whose head
hung low. He cupped both cheeks and tilted his head up, kissing him frantically
and apologizing into his mouth.
 
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
 
“Not—” Steve hissed in pain, arching slightly, when his arms were freed, and
they jostled his torn back. “It’s not your fault, Tony,” he finally managed to
whisper through gritted teeth. And Tony wanted him to take back his words
because ‘Tony’ was the name he whispered into his skin in the dark of the
night, the name he murmured when he told him he loved him, the name he used
with a teasing tone and fond amusement. Not like this. Never like this. He said
nothing. “Not your fault,” Steve added. “You don’t get to blame yourself.” But
Tony ignored him, pulling him into his lap, no matter that he got blood all
over his robes.
 
“Get me a washcloth and clean water!” the prince snapped at Obadiah’s knight
who looked annoyed at being ordered, but went for what was asked anyway. “I’m
sorry, Steve,” he repeated when they were alone. Steve tugged him down for a
kiss.
 
“Still not your fault,” he said. “I’ll sort this out, don’t worry.” He kissed
him again. “In the meantime, try not to piss the bastard off, okay?” Tony
choked out a laughed, and then a sob, and then kissed Steve again and emptied
the rest of his apology into his mouth.
 
……………
 
“The Commander is asking after you, you know,” Bucky told Steve later that
evening. Steve wandered into his room from the bathroom, dressed in his
underclothes where he would have already shed his shirt in the summer heat. He
tried not to make each pull of pain in his back obvious and especially tried
not to make them bleed again, but Bucky knew what he was looking for. Of course
he knew because Natasha was sitting beside him on his bed, uncaring of the fact
that she would be reprimanded for being in the men’s barracks should she be
caught by an officer (although very few officers had the guts to reprimand her,
anyway, not when she held the secrets of their souls in her hands, and of those
that did have the guts to reprimand her, none would bother because she had her
ways of endearing herself to them).
 
“Yes, I know,” he answered indifferently as he discreetly tucked the
bloodstained shirt he had just rinsed out in the hamper to hide it from his
friends. The maids were going to find it and assume it was a training injury,
but Bucky and Natasha would know for sure. Bucky was waiting for a follow up
but he wasn’t going to give one. Steve knew he had completely botched sparring
practice today, allowing Dum Dum—Dum Dum who had the elegance of a bull in a
dress—to disarm him thrice when he had never even come close to doing so
before. But whiplashes, as he found out, hurt worse after several hours than
they did when they were served.
 
“And?” Bucky prompted.
 
“And she need not worry about me. I’m fine; I just… sprained my wrist.” It was
a lame excuse and he knew that they knew it was because Natasha looked to be on
the verge of laughing and Bucky had an ‘are you honestly that stupid?’ look on
his face.
 
“I’ve seen you take down twenty men with your shield, a broken arm and an arrow
in your thigh. What happened today? It was like that, only worse because
we weren’t on a battlefield,” his friend said. Steve ignored him and puttered
around the room, trying to avoid their interrogation, but lacking anything real
to do.
 
“Is there something you needed, Buck?” he eventually sighed when all they did
was to wait patiently. Maybe he could just kick them out. God knows he deserved
to be rude some of the time.
 
“Can you please just talk to me?” Bucky’s voice was pleading, but it only made
Steve angry. What did he expect him to say? That Obadiah fucking Stane had his
ass whipped because Tony wanted a new tutor? That would lead to more questions
and more interest, and Stane had made it perfectly clear that if any of this
got back to the king, there was going to be hell to pay.
 
“Can we please stop talking about this? I know you already know because Natasha
can’t keep her nose out of other people’s fucking business!” he snapped, angry.
He whirled around to glare at the both of them. Bucky didn’t deny it and even
went so far as to look away guiltily. “It goes no farther than him,” Steve
warned the spy, who lifted her chin against his glare, daring him—to do what,
Steve wasn’t sure. “And you’ll put a stop to all rumors about it,” he added.
She could, of course, and easily at that; she just had to apply her silver
tongue to make heads turn the other way.
 
“You could just ask for his highness in marriage,” she pointed out, and Steve
clenched his hands into fists. She didn’t have to tell him; he wanted to—oh how
he wanted to—but who was he to ask for the crown prince’s hand? He was merely a
sickly orphan who happened to attract the interest of a physician looking for a
test subject. He was merely a knight who only received his papers because of
his father’s connections. How could he compare to the rich aristocracy of the
people who surrounded Tony everyday? How could he win against the children of
potential political alliances?
 
It was simple really: he couldn’t.
 
He had Tony for the time being, and that was enough. He only had to protect
what he had, not fight for things he didn’t or couldn’t have.
 
“Stay out of it,” he said, turning away again. “Please,” he pleaded. They said
nothing, but Steve could hear Natasha approaching. She grasped at the hem of
his shirt and prompted him to take it off. She knew, Bucky knew, so there was
really no point in hiding them from his friends anymore. He lifted his arms
over his head, hissing when they pulled his back, and pulled the shirt off.
Bucky whistled low, and Natasha traced the clean skin around the lines.
 
“How many?” she asked.
 
“Thirty,” Steve answered, and then there was a moment’s pause before a hiss was
pulled from his mouth when a cool salve was spread over a handful of lines. The
substance stung his wounds slightly, and her fingers, no matter how carefully
they were applied, pressed painfully against each one, but he suffered through
it to the image of Tony smiling in his mind. And when his entire back was
covered and he heard her recapping the pot, he turned back around with a sigh
and an apology on his lips.
 
Except that he found Tony standing in his doorway, partially covered by a cloak
and hood.
 
“Anthony,” he breathed out. The prince pushed the hood back and threw himself
forward into the knight’s chest. Apologies fell from his mouth over and over
again as if he hadn’t already apologized a thousand times before. Steve shook
his head to clear it and lifted Tony’s chin to silence him with a kiss. His
mouth was pliant and warm beneath his own, and Steve couldn’t help but moan his
pleasure into it. Tony, urged by the sounds pushed into his mouth, threw his
arms around Steve’s neck.
 
And wrenched a pained cry from him.
 
“AH—!” Steve cried out before he managed to stifle the rest of it, but Tony had
already pulled back, horrified at having cause another bout of pain.
 
“I’m sorry!” he apologized, stepping out of reach when Steve tried for him, but
the knight managed to snag him close and hug him at the next step.
 
“Stop apologizing… Stop. It’s fine. It’s not your fault, haven’t I said this
before?” he murmured.
 
“But it is. If I hadn’t been so adamant—”
 
“No, sweetheart,” Steve cut him off. “This happened because Stane is a bastard,
not because you were wrong in wanting a new tutor.” He tipped Tony’s chin up
and kissed him softly. “I’d endure a hundred lashes and a hundred more to keep
you safe and happy, understand?” Tony nodded and then turned to Natasha, Bucky
and Rhodey and Pepper, who had accompanied Tony there.
 
“Might I ask for a few minutes alone?” he asked. None of them even thought to
protest as they exited the room (though Steve knew they would be standing guard
outside), but he lost track of them as soon as Tony guided him back to sit on
the bed. Then his throat closed up when the prince sank to his knees in front
of him. His hand was placed on the inside of Steve’s thigh to push it aside.
With his other hand, he fumbled with the drawstring of Steve’s pants.
 
This wasn’t the first time Tony would use his mouth on him—far from it
really—but the memory of each instance made the breath in his lungs stutter,
and the sight of Tony on his knees, submissive to him, gave him the same
feeling of being drunk. It was a powerful position, even done in love, to have
one’s monarch on his knees before you, eager to see to your pleasure beyond his
own. Steve would never—could never take advantage of that, but the thought
nonetheless thrilled him when he acknowledged it.
 
“Tony…” Steve murmured.
 
“Let me,” Tony whispered, his breath washing warm over Steve’s erection. Steve
cupped his cheek and tugged him close, not forcing him, but letting him know he
had given his consent.
 
He moaned as soon as Tony’s mouth closed over him. It hadn’t changed since
their kiss a few minutes ago: still warm and pliant and yielding to Steve. Tony
sucked his cock in once, as far as it would go, and then released it just as
quickly, a preview, a teaser for what was yet to come. The prince’s hand
grasped the base, pulling it lower to make it more accessible to him and licked
the tip once to clean off its precome. He licked it again a second time, and
then a third before licking his way up and down the shaft. When he sucked it in
once more, longer and more meaningful this time, he stroked what he couldn’t
reach with his hand.
 
Steve spoke because Tony liked it when he did. It was a quirk he would always
be willing to indulge his lover in.
 
“So perfect,” he murmured, tracing the lips that were stretched by his girth.
“Seeing you enjoy that so much.” Tony whimpered in response and sucked him
harder, enthused by his words. “People all over the kingdom, your subjects,
they kneel in your presence to beg for your favor and see to your pleasure, but
they don’t know that this… this is where you want to be: kneeling before me,
and begging for my favor and seeing to mine.” Tony made a broken noise of
agreement and bobbed up and down his length, sucking and fondling and
pleasuring him to the extent of his capability. He needn’t have had to, really,
because even the barest of his efforts was enough to please Steve to the ends
of his wits.
 
“You can spill from this. Just this, my cock in your mouth and nothing else,”
Steve continued, carding his hands through Tony’s hair to aid his movements. "I
want to see you come, my beautiful prince. Will you come for me?" Tony moaned
in answer, shutting his eyes almost automatically as he took Steve in as far as
he would go. The knight groaned and used the grip in his hair as an anchor for
when he thrust up into the orifice, minutely at first through Tony's
encouraging moans. He stood up to gain better leverage then continued to thrust
harder and faster until he was fucking his prince's mouth like he would his
ass. Tony whimpered and moaned around him, relaxing his body and giving himself
to the thrusts, allowing Steve to take him only exactly as he wanted. He choked
around the cock that forced its way into his throat and gagged when it
withdrew, but he was so much harder than he had ever been before.
 
"Come, Anthony," Steve ordered harshly in time with a thrust. "Take my cock
and come." Tony whimpered high in his throat as he couldn't help but comply,
jerking his hips as he spilled into his pants, untouched. Steve thrust into his
mouth one last time, the thought of Tony coming undone beneath him sending him
over the edge. The prince sucked him down obediently, but a trickle of come
managed to spill from the corner of his lips. With a strangled grunt, Steve
hauled him to his feet, licked the stripe of come off his chin, and kissed him
harshly, fucking his mouth with his tongue and erasing all traces of him in his
lover's mouth.
 
They pulled apart and pressed their foreheads against each other, breathing in
deeply and slowly. Then Steve hugged Tony against his chest and pressed his
lips to the top of his head.
 
"I love you, darling," he confessed. Tony's grip in his clothes tightened.
 
"I know. I love you too."
 
……………
 
Tony found his way the next day to his study where Lady Indries was already
present and seemingly ready to begin his class. They were covering politics
today with particular focus on taxation. It wasn’t his favorite subject, much
preferring science more than anything, but he wasn’t unfamiliar with the
concepts and numbers always interested him anyway. In fact, he’d even go so far
as to say he was well versed on it after having read up during his free time,
and what he didn’t know he knew, based on previous experience in other fields
of study, that he could deduce fairly quickly from even just a short
conversation.
 
As such, he arrived in the study on time and ready to begin his lessons, as
Obadiah had requested (ordered).
 
As the lesson drew on, though, it became increasingly evident that Lady Indries
was simply reciting almost verbatim what she had learned from books and
possibly from her own tutors that were most likely bookish, traditionalist
scholars. She had very little idea of how what she was talking about applied to
the current situation of the kingdom and how it could be adapted, revised or
altogether replaced to better fit what was needed. It frustrated Tony to no end
because she wouldn’t accept his points and the fact that Tony seemed to
understand the subject more than she did.
 
“It’s the common practice of many kingdoms in both past and present and many of
the members or our court are willing to fund it,” she was explaining about
supplementing potential budget deficits. Howard, more than anything, was an
economist. Unlike other monarchies, he had his budget under control and wasn’t
in trouble of accruing any deficits in the near future especially since he
understood how war drained an economy. As such, he was also an accidental
pacifist. However, war could be avoided for only so long, and the subject was
relevant and necessary because in such times, deficits would be inevitable and
a future king should know how to handle it.
 
“That is undeniable. However, how effective do you think it is that you are
suggesting to me that I too should employ such methods? Borrowing money against
future tax revenues will only force us into trouble. Do you honestly think it
would be paid off without decent alternate revenue? Why on Earth do you think
the Shostakova monarchy is struggling with their nobility?” he asked in
incredulity.
 
“The Shostakova monarchy has done so successfully by copying Shaw’s example and
raising their taxes temporarily,” the lady shot back. Tony only laughed long
and loud. He was trying to be insulting and seemed to succeed. Lady Indries
scrunched her face up in affront, prompting Tony into another round of
laughter.
 
“The people of Shaw beheaded their king, if you remember?” he pointed out
through giggles. “How long will it take for the people of Shostakova to do so
when they realize that the monarchy has no plans of lowering the taxes again?”
 
“Well since you know so much about it, how would you handle a budget deficit in
times of war?” she demanded huffily.
 
“Okay.” Tony’s eyes gleamed with mischief and intelligence, a fearsome
combination. “Let me explain to you how simple it really is: simply raising
taxes won’t work. Do you know why? Because peasants have a fixed threshold that
is both economic and psychological in nature. There will come a time when they
just cannot and will not pay any more taxes. The closer we get to that
threshold, the greater the risk of an uprising borne of discontent, poverty,
starvation, what have you. At the same time, the government cannot simply do
nothing because it needs to increase its revenue to supplement the budget
deficit.” He paused for dramatic effect. “So how do we reconcile two opposing
concepts?” He gave another pause, this time to allow her to redeem herself in
his eyes. He had already given her the answer; all she had to do was glean it
from his statement. She only gave him a blank look, though, which made Tony all
the more frustrated.
 
“We raise that threshold,” he said with an aggrieved sigh. “We assist the
peasants in earning more such that they are able to pay more. Encourage
exports, raise tariffs on imports, improve processes and economize capacities.
Production is the key to a flourishing economy, Lady Indries. Production.”
Sudden understanding dawned on her face like a rising sun, which pleased Tony
because the solution was really so simple that it was laughable. But then he
opened his mouth again and made a dark look cross her face. “Really. Any fool
could have deduced that.” She shot to her feet, sent him a poisonous glare and
stomped out of the study. He watched her go with satisfaction and then pulled
the nearest textbook closer to him.
 
……………
 
Obadiah found him two hours later. He loomed ominously in the doorway of his
workshop, a grave and disappointed look on his face.
 
Dread and fear and terror rushed through Tony when he caught sight of the older
man because he knew, he knew what was going to happen. He tried to feign
indifference, but his hands that held a pick and iron plating stilled its
actions.
 
“Hello, archduke. What brings you here?” he said, trying for casual but coming
out strangled. Obadiah entered the room, his long, brocade robe flowing around
him regally, and stopped beside Tony at his desk.
 
“Lady Virginia,” the archduke said without having to turn in her direction.
Pepper stood with unacknowledged ease and grace, but worry decorated her eyes
when she looked between Tony and Obadiah.
 
“How may I be of assistance, archduke?” she asked, her tone implying that ‘I’d
rather stay if it’s all the same.’
 
“I need a moment alone with Anthony. If you could step outside?” It was an
order disguised as a question and Pepper looked like she wanted to protest, but
Tony shook his head minutely, just enough for her to tighten her mouth and
curtsy in acquiescence. The door slid shut behind her, and a heavy hand landed
on the prince’s shoulder. Tony flinched but didn’t pull away even when the
fingers of the hand curled and pressed into his skin, a forewarning.
 
“I was very busy today, Anthony, settling important matters your father
neglected to do before he rushed away to socialize with King Odin and his
court,” came Obadiah’s cold voice. Tony tried not to shiver, but a tremor still
ran through him. “So imagine my displeasure of having to entertain a hysterical
lady who had come to see me about being humiliated and offended by her charge.”
 
“If she was humiliated and offended, it was only of her own doing,” Tony
answered. “I was simply demonstrating my knowledge on the subject, of which you
had told me to come prepared for. If I happened to have more knowledge than
her, well, that is no one’s fault but her own.”
 
“She says she was told, and I quote, ‘Any fool could have deduced that,’”
Obadiah put in, ignoring most of what Tony had said. The prince said nothing
because he had said that in the intention it was taken for. Obadiah hummed in
thought. “I think you know why I’m here,” he said.
 
“That’s not fair,” Tony tried again, his voice small, because it really wasn’t.
Sure he had meant to insult her, but it was such a small thing being blown out
of proportion like this. He made sure to say so, which darkened Obadiah’s eyes
and tightened his grip.
 
“Do not test me, Anthony,” he warned. “You have been insubordinate and
insulting toward your tutor, toward a lady of stature. Tell me that should go
unpunished.”
 
“Then punish me! Archduke, please!” Tony cried. “I’ll apologize to her a
thousand times, and everyday thereafter! And I swear to God to never do it
again! Please, Obadiah!”
 
“You are being punished, don’t you remember?” Obadiah lifted an eyebrow.
“This is your punishment. This will be your punishment for every one of your
transgressions, the gravity of which will dictate the number of lashes Steven
will receive, from now until I relinquish your tutelage to your father. If you
do not wish to see him beaten, you will do your best to produce output that
meets my satisfaction. Are we clear?” Tony searched his eyes for a sign, for a
glimmer of mercy, but he found nothing, so he only bowed his head in
understanding and defeat.
 
“Yes,” he whispered. The grip on his shoulder tightened and forced him to his
feet.
 
“Come, then,” Obi prompted and led him out the door.
 
“Your highness,” Pepper started in question from where she stood beside Happy
and Jasper at the door. Tony looked up.
 
“Stay here, Virginia. The archduke and I have business to attend to,” he said
easily without prompting. All three of his people looked concerned for a moment
more, but they couldn’t disobey a direct order from their liege, so she nodded
and watched while Tony and Obadiah made their way through the winding corridors
and down to the dungeons.
 
Tony knew what to expect this time around, so it wasn’t a surprise to see Steve
kneeling on the ground, strung up by his wrists. Beside him stood the guard who
held what was slowly becoming the bane of Tony’s existence in his hands: the
knout, long and thin and steel tipped, whose sole purpose was to maim his
lover’s back. Tony jerked forward involuntarily, only to be held back by
Obadiah’s hand. Steve’s eyes found his, and he tried to give a reassuring smile
which only broke Tony’s heart further. The genius turned to Obadiah with wide
imploring eyes.
 
“Please,” he begged once more. “Please, archduke, he hasn’t healed yet. He
hasn’t—Forgive me, please, it won’t happen again, I swear on my life.”
 
“Tell him why he’s being punished, Anthony,” Obadiah said evenly, not meeting
Tony’s gaze in favor of observing the scene before them with what looked a lot
like satisfaction.
 
And pride.
 
“Please,” Tony tried again, and Obadiah nodded once. A second later, the whip
cracked, and Steve shouted. Tony’s head whipped around so fast to see how Steve
fared. The knight’s head was dipped low and his shoulders heaved a breath, but
he looked back up soon enough, glaring venomously at the archduke.
 
“Tell him, Anthony,” Obadiah repeated, and Tony didn’t think to refuse him
again. He sought Steve’s eyes and stuttered out his answer.
 
“I—I insulted the Lady Indries.”
 
“And?”
 
“And I… I—” Tony was genuinely stumped. He looked up at Obadiah who tutted and
shook his head.
 
“You pulled me away from important work and questioned my authority,” he
explained, and it wasn’t fair—it wasn’t—but Tony only hung his head and nodded
once. “And how many lashes do you think he deserves for that?” Tony snapped his
head up in surprise. He was being allowed to choose? He scrambled for an
answer, knowing that anything too low would possibly anger the man, but not
wanting to give anything too high either. ‘I’m sorry,’ he mouthed at Steve who
only shook his head.
 
“Ten,” he said, tensing to hear the crack of the whip.
 
“Ten for each transgression,” Obadiah corrected, ripping from Tony a noise of
protest that was drowned by the smack of leather against flesh. Steve shouted
again, bowing away from the lash in an attempt to minimize the impact (which
didn’t help, really, not in any way discernible way). Tony slapped a hand over
his own mouth as the first ten strikes were dealt out to muffle his own
protests and whimpers. His eyes were wide in sympathetic pain and brimming with
pained tears that fell as the first drip of blood did, earlier this time than
the last.
 
The next twenty lashes were dealt out methodically and consistently, leaving
Steve wrung out and weak in pain, and Tony fraught with despair. There was the
same number of lashes today, but they seemed worse as they pulled open the
barely healed ones from yesterday. The knight hung from his chains, his head
dropped and his body shaking, and Tony wanted to do nothing else except wrap
him in his arms and relieve his ails.
 
At the last one, he wrestled himself away from Obadiah’s grip, but the archduke
simply tightened his hand impossibly, wrenching a cry and driving Tony to his
knees, then held him at his feet by his hair.
 
“And another ten,” he said easily.
 
“What?! Why?!” Tony cried, pulling at the hand in his hair in an effort to get
to Steve who was yelling himself hoarse once more.
 
“For being out of bed and in the soldier barracks late last evening,” Obadiah
explained simply. Tony felt fresh tears track they way down his face as Steve
was put at the mercy of the whip once more. The second set passed more quickly
than the first, but it felt like a lifetime before they were done. Tony had
only realized it was so when Obadiah released him, but he didn’t question it
and scrambled over to Steve without bothering to stand and dust himself off
first. He cupped Steve’s face and kissed him again and again and again until
the other man was responsive against his mouth.
 
“I’m sorry,” Tony sobbed. “I didn’t mean to—I’m so, so sorry.” He pressed his
face into the base of Steve’s neck, mindful of the lashes that crept over his
shoulder, and cried.
 
“Shhh,” Steve murmured, his voice wrecked. “Stop crying, darling, please stop
crying.” He didn’t pull Tony into his arms and hug him, and Tony, bereft of
that comfort, looked up to find that they had been left alone without having
released him. He hiccupped a last sob and looked around for the key to find it
hanging by the door. He stumbled over to it and grabbed it off the hook to
release Steve’s wrists from their chains. When he was free, Steve twisted his
hands to relieve the ache in his wrists, ignoring the blood there for the
meantime, and allowed Tony to pull him close. The prince kissed him again, full
of sincere apology and regret. “I know,” Steve whispered. “It’s still not your
fault, Tony. Don’t cry.”
 
“We—” Tony hiccupped. “We should get you cleaned up. There’s a bedroom nearby.
We can—” Steve kissed him again, presumably to shut him up.
 
“Okay,” he said. “Let’s go get cleaned up.” Tony helped him to his feet and
into his pants, leaving his shirt off for the moment.
 
“Stay here,” he instructed and left him seated and a bit confused on a nearby
chair. Tony ran to the door and from there upstairs and into the hallway only
to crash almost literally into Natasha who was striding purposefully toward the
stairs. The spy caught him before he could topple over and righted him just as
Pepper and Bucky caught up with them.
 
“Are you okay, Tony?” Pepper asked, pulling him closer to her and inspecting
him for possible damage. Her voice was more worried than her face let on, and
Tony was infinitely grateful for it.
 
“I’m fine,” he assured her, though he continued to allow her to look him over.
“I promise I’m fine, Pepper, but I may need some help downstairs.” Natasha’s
lips tightened.
 
“Is Steve still down there?” she asked. Pepper looked between the two of them,
then to Bucky for confirmation, but the soldier only looked livid. Tony nodded.
“Pepper, would you kindly bring some water down?” Natasha said, and waited to
see Pepper nod and hurry off before leading the way down into the dungeon. When
they entered the room, her mouth set into an even grimmer line, and Bucky
looked apoplectic at the sight of blood on the ground and on Steve. Tony
ignored them for the time being in favor of throwing himself at Steve who
pulled him onto his lap and wrapped his arms around him. Natasha walked around
to inspect his back and hissed in sympathy.
 
“How many?” she asked. Steve grimaced.
 
“Forty,” he said and winced when Natasha pushed at the skin beside one to
inspect how deep it is.
 
“Ow! Can you not do that?” Steve complained. Tony lifted his head to reprimand
Natasha for bothering Steve, but then a gasp from the doorway stopped his words
in his throat.
 
“Steve?!” Pepper rushed over, depositing a pitcher of water and a goblet onto a
nearby table almost carelessly and rounding Steve to inspect his back as well.
Tony had to dart forward to catch the pitcher before it toppled over. She made
a sympathetic and vaguely alarmed noise at the sight of Steve’s back. “Dear
lord, what in the world happened? Who did this?” Steve grimaced, but said
nothing, so Pepper turned to Natasha.
 
“The archduke,” she answered, “seemed to think that it was his duty to teach
his highness a lesson and decided that this was the best way to correct him.”
Pepper’s alarm turned into disbelief and the beginnings of rage.
 
“He had you whipped to punish Tony?!” she gaped in disbelief and affront, then
rounded on Tony who was pouring water into the goblet. “What did you do?” Her
suspicion was not unfounded as Tony had been the cause of many a furor around
the castle, and the prince paled at Pepper’s question, remembering once more
that he was the reason behind Steve’s whippings.
 
“That’s enough, Pepper,” Steve said before Tony could get any word in. He
reached out to take Tony’s free hand and pull him back onto his lap. “Not an
ounce of this was his fault, and I will thank you to remember that.” Pepper
pursed her lips, but after a moment, she nodded her head and sent an apologetic
glance to Tony. Tony choked back another apology to Steve in favor of bringing
the goblet up to his lips.
 
“Here,” he said, his voice raw. When he had his fill, Steve gently took the
goblet and put it down, then looked up at his lover.
 
“I’m not an invalid yet, darling prince,” he teased gently, stroking Tony’s
cheek. A quirk was on his lips, which shouldn’t have been because he had just
gotten fucking whipped. Tony felt like he wanted to cry, and Steve seemed to
sense that because he pulled Tony closer and hugged him.
 
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Tony apologized again, burying his face in Steve’s
neck. “I’m supposed to be comforting you, not the other way around.”
 
“Shhh,” Steve hushed. “I’ve had worse than this, love. Don’t cry, please.” He
held Tony close, whispering reassurances and pressing kisses to his face until
Tony stopped vibrating with choked back emotion and he was able to lift his
head. He scrubbed away the unshed tears from his eyes and turned to the others.
 
“We need to get him upstairs to get cleaned up,” Tony said, all puffy eyes and
pleading tone. “There should be a bedroom down the hall from the stairs. I
can’t get him there on my own, not without anyone seeing. Obadiah’s guards
helped me yesterday, but it seemed they didn’t think to bother today.”
 
“Still not an invalid. I can walk on my own,” Steve thought they should know,
but he was ignored as Tony climbed off his lap and Natasha helped him pull his
shirt carefully over the broken skin of his back. The blood immediately stained
it red, but Bucky pulled off his coat, which was made of much thicker material,
and handed it over.
 
“Maybe you should take a mission to the borders while the king is out of the
kingdom,” he suddenly suggested, speaking for the first time since they’d come.
Steve whipped a glare at him before glancing at Tony then back at him.
 
“No,” he said firmly. Bucky looked to say something, so Steve cut him off.
“No,” he repeated. “I’m not leaving his highness unprotected. How long do you
think it would take before Stane decides to risk inflicting this on him?”
 
“Harming the prince is treason. He wouldn’t do it.” Bucky was confident enough
because it was true.
 
“He would if he knew Anthony would never tell.”
 
“Then take away his insurance! Tell the king!” Bucky’s voice was nearly shrill,
and Tony understood why, he really did because if Bucky loved Steve as a friend
half as much as he did as a lover, then it didn’t take a genius to wonder why
he looked borderline homicidal by now.
 
“You know I can’t do that,” Steve snarled, his eyes flashing dangerously. “I—”
 
“He’s right,” Tony interrupted quietly. All four sets of eyes turned to him,
but Tony only had eyes for one of them. “You should take that assignment away
from here, and I—I’ll tell my father what’s been happening in his absence. You
shouldn’t have to suffer for me. It’s not—I can’t see you like this.” Steve
bolted out of the chair to catch Tony’s face in his hands and hold on to him
tightly.
 
“Is that what you want?” he demanded. His voice was tight with emotion Tony
couldn’t begin to parse through. “Do you want to give this up? To give us up so
easily?”
 
“I want—” Tony managed to start before Steve cut him off with a kiss that was
brutal in its sincerity. He ravaged the prince’s mouth with ferocious intensity
until Tony could only hold on as he drowned in its passion.
 
“Not even a thousand more of these lashes would convince me to leave,” Steve
said with conviction. “I’d agree to this everyday until the day I die if it
meant I could keep you, but tell me that you no longer want me, and I’ll go.”
Tony bit his lip to hold his tears at bay before he pressed his face into
Steve’s neck.
 
“I can’t,” he admitted. Steve hugged him tight, holding him for a minute more,
for forever, until Natasha put a hand on an unmarked part of his shoulder.
 
“Pepper and I will divert any people down the corridor while his highness and
Bucky can walk you to the room,” she said. “We’ll bring the both of you there a
change of clothes and some salve.” Steve nodded and released Tony only far
enough so they could walk easily. He lifted the hand that was clasped in his
own and kissed it gently. ‘I love you,’ the kiss said and Tony gave him a
watery smile that said ‘I love you’ back.
 
……………
 
The trip from the dungeons to the nearest bedroom (a lesser guest bedroom) was
uneventful with Natasha and Pepper manning the corridors. The same couldn't be
said when they had gotten inside the room, though.
 
It was barren, stripped of everything but the mattress and sheer curtains
because the staff had not been instructed to prepare it. They sat Steve down on
the bed before Tony rushed into the bathroom, presumably to set it up. It would
have been a short, rather boring wait if not for the fact that Tony had
absolutely no idea how to go about it. It was rather funny really, and Steve
found himself chuckling several times at the prince's colorful curses.
 
"I haven't actually prepared a bath before," Tony finally admitted, trudging
back into the room, the hem of his robe and pants inexplicably soaked. Even in
light of everything that had happened not even an hour before, Steve couldn't
help but laugh rather hysterically. Even Bucky was hard pressed to keep his
mirth under wraps. Tony pouted and crossed his arms over his chest, suffering
through it until their laughter crossed the one-minute mark. "Are you quite
done?" Steve wiped a tear of laughter from his eye and held his arms out to the
teenager. Tony huffed, but didn't hesitate to curl up into his lap.
 
"I don’t think a bath is necessary. Bucky will be able to get what we need from
the bathroom," Steve told him gently, brushing a lock of hair off his forehead
before kissing him. Bucky took that as his cue to salute casually and see what
he could do about supplies. Tony straightened up and pressed back against
Steve’s mouth, drawing the kiss deeper, and Steve grasped the back of his neck
and his waist and pulled him closer as his tongue plundered the prince's mouth
and earned a muffled moan.
 
“Now that is a view I don’t think I’ll ever tire of watching,” they heard
someone say, making them jump apart to see that Natasha and Pepper had returned
with provisions. Amused grins were on their faces as they walked in and shut
the door behind them. Tony blushed and hid his face in Steve's neck, but Steve
only chuckled and kissed his hair. Bucky returned with a basin of water and set
it down on the nearby desk.
 
“I’ll stand watch outside,” he offered. Steve nodded a thanks and watched him
go.
 
“Let’s take your shirt off, Steve,” Natasha instructed, tapping Steve’s bicep
for emphasis.
 
“And you,” Pepper said to Tony. “As much as I know you love watching Steve
undress, I think you should go change.” Tony glared at her, but he didn’t deny
her statement and allowed her to march him into the bathroom, bearing with her
a change of his clothes. When they were gone, Natasha helped Steve out of his
jacket and shirt. The blood on Steve's back had crusted slightly in some
places, making Steve wince when they were tugged at. She cleaned the blood off
gently with a washcloth, and by the time she was done, the water in the basin
was already a deep red.
 
"He adores you," the spy noted. She applied a salve and dressed the wounds
meticulously, earning a few winces here and there, but no more. "I don't know
if I should feel nauseous or delighted at your constant displays of love and
affection."
 
"But those of the sexual nature appeal to you, surely?" She stopped her work
and adopted a grave tone.
 
"I would give my right arm to be able to watch you debauch his highness," she
agreed seriously. Steve only laughed.
 
"Haven't you?" Tony asked when he and Pepper came back into the room. He meant
it sarcastically, but Natasha winked at him, and he ended up blushing instead.
 
"I have met quite a few subtle people in my life, highness, those that I can
never figure out even if I were to observe them all day long," she said
casually. "You, unfortunately, are not one of them; I could figure you out in
an instant. But, to answer your question, no. No, I haven’t watched Steven
debauch you. Yet." Tony grinned.
 
"And what have you figured out about me?" he asked. Pepper elbowed him, and
Natasha laughed.
 
"Do you really want to know the answer to that?" was her response. The genius
shrugged.
 
"You already know what Steven and I do in the privacy of our bedroom," he said
with heavy emphasis. She didn’t look the least bit chastised (if anything, she
looked almost smug), and Steve's heart fluttered at the casual "our." "We know
that you know, and I don’t think there’s anything you can tell Pepper about me
that would scandalize her, so you might as well." Natasha smirked.
 
"I know that you like submitting to him," she said, checking Steve's neatly
wrapped back carefully. "And I know that he likes staking his claim on you."
That was all she said, but it summed up their sexual preferences almost
perfectly. Tony grinned through an uncontrolled blush, and Steve saw in his
eyes the exact moment he considered taking Natasha up on her offer for an
audience.
 
He could understand the appeal in doing so. Natasha was a beautiful lady, even
at six years his senior; her presence was never a hardship on the eyes. And the
thought of demonstrating to others just how completely Tony belonged to him,
showing off just how much he craved Steve’s touches and affection, it clawed at
Steve’s gut like an addiction he never realized he had.
 
But no—Tony was his and his alone to see (and touch and hear and taste).
 
“No, Tony,” he said gently. He didn’t like denying his lover anything, but he
wasn’t ready to share him just yet. Tony, predictably, pouted. “Maybe,” Steve
amended. Okay, so maybe he was a bit of a wimp. “But definitely not now. We
should go.” He stood and grabbed the clean shirt and jacket off of the bed, not
bothering to change his pants.
 
"Your back’s stable for now,” Natasha said as she packed up the supplies. “But
it isn't going to be enough forever. You need to see a physician, Steven."
 
"I can't go to Pym," Steve said, referring to the back-up royal physician for
when Erskine was travelling with the king. "He'll inform the king in an
instant."
 
“And I can’t keep patching you up forever. I have field training on injuries,
but you of all people should know that’s only a temporary solution,” she said.
And she was right, really. Steve sighed and thought about whom he could
approach with it.
 
“Oh, of course!” he suddenly remembered. “I could talk to Bruce.” Bruce Banner,
his father’s apprentice, was older than he by about four years, but had begun
his apprenticeship under his father later in life (only a few years now). He’d
had previous medical training but had to discontinue it while he traveled
across the kingdom. He never did say for what reason, and Steve had never
bothered to find out, but Bruce had always struck him as incredibly trustworthy
with his quiet demeanor and earnest eyes. Natasha’s approving nod only
strengthened his conviction.
 
“Hey,” Bucky said, coming back in. “We should be on our way. Training starts in
a moment.” Then he paused and frowned. “Are you going to be okay?” Steve rolled
his shoulders. It was going to hurt most certainly, but he hoped the bandages
would be enough to keep any blood from soaking his shirt.
 
“I’ll be fine,” he answered, though he couldn’t be perfectly sure. He caught
sight of Tony’s worried look, but the prince was able to speak before he could
ward off an apology.
 
“I'm sorry,” Tony whispered for the umpteenth time, so Steve sighed heavily and
covered his mouth with his palm.
 
“Never apologize for this,” he said. “You're allowed to make mistakes; you’re
allowed to not be perfect—although how anyone could even begin to think you
aren’t, I can never understand.” Behind his palm, Tony smiled bashfully. “Stane
is wrong to punish you for all them. Just… just stay true to yourself. I don’t
care who tells you otherwise. That's all I ask." Tony paused for a span of five
seconds and then nodded. Then a mischievous spark entered his eye, and Steve
felt his tongue lave over the palm of his hand. He let out an incomprehensible
sound, which made Natasha and Pepper exchange an amused glance. “Stop that,”
Steve reprimanded. It was half-hearted though, but Tony didn’t call him out on
it, allowing him instead to pull him into his arms.
 
Their mouths slotted together perfectly, parting as soon as they touched. Steve
slid his hand around the base of Tony’s skull, in a nook that seemed to be
created especially for him, while Tony lifted himself up on the balls of his
feet to push back. It didn’t bother him at all that he could feel their three
friends watching them, but he did break off the kiss before it could lead to
something else.
 
“I’ll be fine,” Steve repeated in a whisper just for Tony’s ears. His earlier
uncertainty seemed only a distant memory as he stroked back Tony’s hair and
assuaged his fears. “Leave your window unlocked tonight. I’ll come find you,”
he told him and kissed his mouth once more, briefly, before parting ways with
him at the next intersection.
 
From there, and after another parting kiss (much more chaste this time to
everyone else’s relief), he, Bucky, and Natasha found their way around the
castle and towards the training hall. It didn’t escape Steve that Bucky kept
throwing one to many glances in his direction, most of them disapproving or
just plain serious. Steve tried to ignore it at first, but then Bucky started
being unsubtle about it.
 
“What?” he finally asked in exasperation.
 
“You know it can’t last forever,” Bucky said, somber. “He’s going to be married
off to a royal of a neighboring kingdom as soon as the king deems it
necessary.” Steve gave no outward indication of his despair at that thought.
 
“I know,” he only said even as his insides screamed violent protest.
 
“Then you shouldn’t have to put up with this now.” Bucky’s voice was firmer
now. “You have a great future ahead of you. You know Dame Margaret’s
considering you for a promotion. What do you think is going to happen when your
relationship with the prince comes to light?” Steve stopped and clenched his
fists.
 
“I know, Bucky,” he repeated, and Bucky saw that as his opening.
 
“I love you like a brother. You know I do, so you know that I have only the
best intentions when I tell you that you need to break it off with him,” he
said. Steve laughed, but not with amusement.
 
“What, because I know it’s not going to last? Because it can cost me my
future?” he asked, demanded. Bucky said nothing both because it was unnecessary
and because Steve didn’t allow him to. “Were you not there when I told him I’d
suffer an infinite number of this more if it meant I could have him? Do you
not understand that I would die tomorrow if it meant I could have him today? I
don’t care for what happens to me. I could be tried, I could be imprisoned, I
could be banished, I could be hung, and I wouldn’t care as long as it afforded
me a minute longer with him!”
 
“Those are a fool’s words!”
 
“And I am a fool!” Steve bellowed. “Only a fool could love a prince and expect
to be loved back, but you know what? He does! So I’m glad to be called a fool
because otherwise I could never have even dreamt of this!” Bucky drew back, his
face stunned at the outburst at first, and then worried, as he glanced around,
that someone could overhear their conversation. That he still held that concern
for Steve (and possibly his relationship with Tony), Steve felt inordinately
grateful, so he lowered his voice. “I love him, James, I really do. A moment
with him, no matter how fleeting, is worth a thousand moments of pain.” Bucky
stared at him for a long moment, incredulity slowly transforming into
acceptance. Then he sighed.
 
“I can’t say I agree with you, but… I suppose I can understand,” he eventually
said. Steve gave him a smile, a genuine one.
 
“Thank you,” he said, clapping his shoulder and then looking at Natasha. “Both
of you.”
 
……………
 
Commander Margaret Carter looked equally impressive as she towered over him (no
matter that he was almost a foot taller than she) and furious, and Steve tried
not to fidget nervously before her.
 
“Take off your clothes,” she ordered shortly.
 
“What?” Steve balked before glancing at the other occupants of the room, Bucky
and Natasha behind him, and Sir Philip Coulson behind Dame Margaret. Sir Philip
was second-in-command to Sir Nicholas Fury, the commander of the king’s guard.
Thus, in the king’s, and consequently, Sir Nicholas’s absence, he stood as the
highest ranking security official of the castle, which mostly explained his
presence here today. Steve couldn’t deny the quiver of fear that ran through
him at the knight’s glare; while not as high up as Peggy, he was equally as
formidable (if not more).
 
“You have been performing exceptionally abysmally since yesterday when I have
never seen you at anything less than perfect before. And you are favoring your
back,” she explained testily. “Do not take me for an idiot, Sir Steven, not
when it is I who made you what you are today. Now take off your clothes.” Steve
clenched his jaw tight, risked a glance at Natasha who only nodded before he
shucked his jacket and pulled off his shirt to reveal the bandages wrapped
around his torso. “And those too. Natasha help him,” she added. Steve only held
out his arms, flinching occasionally while Natasha undid her own handiwork and
tugged off a scab. “Turn,” Peggy instructed when Natasha had finished, and
Steve did so. Peggy said or did nothing for a long moment.
 
“So it’s true then,” she eventually said. Steve saw a self-satisfied look cross
over Natasha’s features, which solidified his conviction that she hadn’t ratted
him out. Peggy would never have doubted if it was she who had given her the
information. Steve turned back to his mentor, but said nothing. It didn’t
matter because she turned to Phil. “He’ll have to be removed from the castle
and word sent to the king. We cannot allow high highness to be put in
jeopardy.”
 
“No!” Steve protested before he could think about it, and dangerous glares were
sent to him by his superiors.
 
“Be careful, Steven,” Peggy warned quietly. “I have been turning a blind eye to
your dalliances with the prince, but you are treading on shaky ground right
now. You should be thankful I’m not throwing you in the dungeons right now,
much less stripping you of your title.” She carried a threat in her voice… and
disappointment, which was much worse. “How could you even think to keep this a
secret? Have you not thought of his highness’s safety?”
 
“If you know about our relationship, then you will know the answer to your
questions,” Steve answered. He was in certain serious trouble, but he had
to try. “Please, mistress,” he begged. “This cannot reach the king. It will
tear Anthony apart.”
 
“It’s not your choice to make, Sir Steven. We are tasked to ensure his safety
and well being, and Archduke Stane is posing a threat to both,” Phil added.
 
“Not while I’m here. I’ve chosen to accept this to keep him safe from the
archduke’s wrath,” Steve said.
 
“For how long, Steven? For how long will the archduke be content with beating
you to torture his highness? How long until he decides to cut out the middleman
altogether?” Peggy demanded. “Keeping the archduke here is a risk we are not
willing to take!”
 
“But you will if I command it,” a new voice came from the doorway, a familiar
voice that had Steve brimming with hope. All the occupants of the room turned
to see Tony standing there, flanked by Rhodey and Clint, the latter of whom had
most likely notified him of the meeting. The prince was the shortest and
youngest in the room, and yet he dwarfed everyone else around him as he stood
regal and proud, exactly the way a prince should.
 
“Your highness.” Both Peggy and Phil bowed at the waist before regarding him
with concern while he swept into the room and stopped at Steve’s side. The
knight felt a brush of fingers over his wrist, and he couldn’t help but smile
down at him, weak as it were.
 
“You will keep this to yourselves and tell your other informant the same,” Tony
ordered, his tone severe.
 
“The king has ordered—”
 
“And yet my father isn’t here to overturn my command, is he? And since he
isn’t, I’ll ask you, whose authority supersedes the other’s: mine or yours?”
His grin was sharp and cutting, and Steve fell in love with him all over again.
Phil opened his mouth to protest, but then shut it again which only served to
widen Tony’s grin.
 
“If he threatens to harm you—”
 
“He won’t,” Tony cut him off. He wasn’t sure, of course, but giving in to
Phil’s concerns have him footing for additional protest.
 
“But if he did?”
 
“Steven will protect me the way I know any of you will,” the prince answered
confidently. Phil looked terribly conflicted, and Steve felt a little bit sorry
for him because in his place, Steve was pretty sure he would do the same thing.
 
“Of course, my lord. There is not a doubt that he wouldn’t,” the lieutenant
finally conceded with a sigh, and Tony grinned triumphantly. “But if the king
asks, I cannot lie.”
 
“I wouldn’t expect you to, Sir Phil,” Tony conceded before looking up at Steve
and smiling softly.
 
“You should go back. Stane might find offense at your being here again,” Steve
told him, stroking his cheek gently.
 
“Pepper’s keeping him occupied. He won’t notice my absence for a bit,” Tony
said, but tilted his face into Steve’s hand all the same. “But okay.” He
squeezed Steve’s wrist once, gave Phil and Peggy a meaningful look and then
left Peggy’s office the same way he came.
 
“Barton,” Phil called before the archer could go far. Clint shrugged
unapologetically.
 
“I’m fond of the little brat. I didn’t want to see his heart broken,” he said
by way of explanation. No one called him out on the name calling, but not on
everything else.
 
“He’s a prince. The crown prince. His heart is the least of our priorities,”
Peggy snapped.
 
“The least of yours maybe. I’m only thinking that at least one person in the
world—well, other than Steven, that is—should stop caring about the future king
of Stark and start caring about Anthony,” Clint answered snidely. His
insubordination was famous the kingdom over, and it amused Howard enough to
turn a blind eye toward it. Plus the fact that his archery skill could be
rivaled by no one in the world made him a favorite of the king’s and allowed
him liberties no one else had. “He’s going to take the crown one day, and he’s
going to be married off to some simpering foreign noble, whether he wants to or
not. And I am very well sure that he doesn’t, so until then, I think he
deserves to have something in his life that he does want without it being torn
from him like his freedom is going to be.” Steve could kiss him when Peggy and
Phil looked properly chastised. Argument lost, Peggy turned to Steve.
 
“Be that as it may,” she said. “The moment he is harmed in any way, the
archduke will find himself immediately on the other end of that whip.” Steve
nodded gravely, understanding the full implication of the statement. He’ll have
to make sure, somehow, that Stane understood it as well. But even without the
threat to their relationship, Steve would never have allowed Tony to be harmed
anyway. He would have torn that person who does limb from limb and enjoyed
doing so.
 
“Understood,” he said and bowed as Peggy dismissed him.
 
……………
 
Steve always seemed to handle himself better when Obadiah was present, the
reasons twofold. First, he seems to have found a focus that gained him
additional strength from rage. His glare at the archduke, if it could manifest
physically, was potent enough to fell an ox, and Tony did not doubt he was
counting the ways he could kill the older man. The second reason was that Raza
seemed to be embroiled in a one-sided pissing contest with Obadiah over who was
the bigger bastard, so he tended to overdo the whippings when he was put in
charge. It was for those reasons that while Tony hated Obadiah to his very
core, he couldn’t help but feel somewhat relieved that the older man was here
again this time around—the sixth time  in four weeks Steve was being
punished—standing at Tony’s shoulder and holding him in place.
 
“Tell him why he’s being punished, Anthony,” Obadiah commanded. He always made
Tony do so as though he took perverse pleasure in it. Tony wrung his hands
anyway.
 
“I didn’t finish the design for the new irrigation system,” he said softly,
then bit his lip when Steve’s eyes flicked to him, softening in assurance. ‘I’m
sorry,’ he mouthed at the knight, and Steve shook his head like he always did.
He always, every day told Tony that none of this was his fault and that he
shouldn’t apologize, but Tony struggled to believe him. If only he could be
better, faster, perfect, Steve’s wouldn’t have to be subjected to this.
 
“And how many do you think he deserves for that?” Twenty was usually the
minimum, but depending on the gravity of the offense, the archduke increased it
accordingly. Even though Tony knew that, he still always tried to work for a
lower number.
 
“Ten,” he said, softly because he was afraid that one of these days, Obadiah
was going to grow tired of correcting him.
 
“Twice that,” Obadiah did correct, and half a second later, the whip snapped.
 
Tony had been trying so hard, and he’d been doing better now than he did
before, but it had still been barely over a week since Steve had last been
punished and the time before that, not even a week prior. There was no way for
his back to have healed by then even with Bruce’s help. Peggy was already
making veiled threats about informing the king and only failed to follow
through because the army wasn’t in need just yet and because Steve worked twice
as hard to overcome his injuries during training.
 
Half-way through the lashes, Obadiah’s hand crept casually around the base of
Tony’s throat. The prince’s waning focus snapped to attention, and a crawling
feeling radiated over his skin from beneath the palm, outward. He saw the
moment Steve also observed the motion because the placid blue eyes suddenly
turned stormy, and he was no longer flinching from the whip. In fact, it seemed
as though he had forgotten about it completely.
 
“Let go of him,” the knight whispered dangerously. His body was strung taught,
but none of it the chains’ doing. Obadiah only curled his hand further around
Tony’s neck as though he hadn’t heard the warning in Steve’s voice. Tony’s
whole body flinched at that, questions and scenarios and fear running through
his head. Obadiah wouldn’t do anything. He knew what punishment befit those who
meant to harm the prince, so he wouldn’t.
 
Would he?
 
“Let go of him,” Steve repeated just as dangerously as the first time, “before
I rip your fingers off of your hand one by one and feed them to you.”  The
lashes had stopped, but there was no sense of relief from either the prince or
the knight.
 
“Exceptionally talkative today, aren’t we, Sir Steven?” There was amusement in
Obadiah’s voice. “Don’t worry; we’ll change that,” he said, just before Raza
stepped forward and flung a fist straight into Steve’s jaw.
 
“No!!!” Tony screamed at Steve’s pained grunt, and then again at the next
punch, “Please! Stop, Obadiah! Stop!” He turned to see Obadiah nod to Raza, but
that could have meant anything from “enough” to “continue indefinitely,” so he
stepped closer and grasped the front of the archduke’s robes.
“Obadiah, please,” he begged, conveying as much plea as he could in both his
voice and expression. “Please!” There was only silence between the two of them,
tainted by the smack of flesh against flesh and Steve’s responding grunts,
while Obadiah seemed to think about it. Tony struggled to hold Obadiah’s gaze
and maintain his own expression through it all, so he saw just when the
archduke’s gaze changed from openly amused annoyance to concealed smug
pleasure. Eventually, Obadiah tugged Tony closer and petted his hair.
 
“Alright,” he said tenderly. “That’s enough for today.” And Tony could almost
sob in relief when the beating stopped. He released the robes in his hand, but
allowed Obadiah to continue stroking his hair to his heart’s content, and when
the older man stopped doing so, he held perfectly still, fearing that any
movement would make him change his mind. With one last glance, the archduke
exited the room, followed closely by his men, and only when the door was shut
with a heavy clang did he run for the key and unchain Steve in a hurry.
 
The knight wasted no moment after the chains had fallen away and clattered
against the wall. He grabbed Tony by the shoulders and slammed him up against
the wall opposite them. Their mouths were against each other’s in the very same
instant and their hands all over each other in the next. Tony wound his fingers
in Steve’s hair and hitched his legs up around Steve’s waist while the other
man grabbed the backs of his thighs to haul him up and press him harder into
the stone. It inadvertently rocked their cocks together, their skin impeded
from touching by only a single layer of clothing between them, eliciting moans
from both. Like this, with Steve hot and hungry and hard against him, Tony had
almost forgotten was had happened only minutes before, could almost forget that
Steve was most definitely in pain, could forget that anyone could walk in at
any moment. Only Steve devouring him and claiming him was important.
 
His lips were released, and the blonde kissed his way down Tony’s neck and back
up to his ear.
 
“Let me have this,” he hissed, rocking into Tony almost painfully. “Let me have
you like this, up against this wall where I can see and think of it the next
time Stane punishes you.”
 
‘Punishes you’ not ‘punishes me’ because Steve’s physical pain was negligible
against the emotional and psychological grief it brought Tony. He didn’t want
to trivialize what Steve felt on his skin; he didn’t want to compare them in
any way, but to hear Steve acknowledge it… it was humbling.
 
“Always. Always, Steve,” Tony breathed into the air over his shoulder. Steve
said nothing further and only let him down long enough to kick off his pants.
His robe and shirt were opted to be left on in favor of pressing once more
against each other. Tony’s legs went back around Steve’s waist, and if he
aggravated the injuries in any way (and he most certainly did), Steve gave no
indication that he had done so. Instead, the knight took one of his hands and
lifted it over their heads. Tony, occupied with deepening their kiss, couldn’t
realize what Steve intended until a manacle clamped around his wrist. He broke
the kiss in surprise, looked up and then looked back at Steve, seeing a
question in his eyes.
 
Slowly, Tony lifted his other hand toward the matching cuff beside the first.
An undecipherable expression crossed Steve’s face while he reached up to close
the second cuff and guide Tony’s fingers around the chains.
 
“Hold on here,” he instructed softly and then tipped Tony’s chin up and sucked
on his neck.
 
The manacles served several purposes. First, they helped Steve in holding Tony
up against the wall. While he was strong enough to keep the smaller man in
place with just his hands and his body, it greatly eased the burden and allowed
him to worry about things other than dropping him, things like opening him up
with his fingers and breaking him apart with his mouth. Second, they grounded
Tony. When Steve grinded up against his front and teased his entrance with his
fingers, the chains provided a literal and figurative handhold for him that
kept him somewhat sane and relatively coherent.
 
Plus, there was just something about seeing the prince tied up in a way that
was possible to no one else. That was the important part because all of
this—this was just a way for Steve to affirm his claim on Tony and to wipe of
the threat of Obadiah from his skin and from their minds. Tony knew it, and he
wanted to give Steve that affirmation. He was Steve’s, always and completely.
 
The knight sunk into him, slowly and steadily and carefully. There was an
incredible amount of friction between them, owing to mere spit as their
lubrication, that made each inch seem like a foot long and a foot wide. Tony
tossed his head back against the wall with a long groan, and Steve obliged by
kissing him under his chin, but he didn’t stop. Every ounce of sensation beyond
the cock that breached him disappeared almost completely, and he could feel
only a burn that teetered dangerously on the edge of pain. And then
finally, finally, Steve bottomed out in him. He pressed his face into Tony’s
chest and panted heavily as though he had run a mile, but he held perfectly
still, allowing the nerves in Tony’s body to settle back down.
 
“Please,” Tony murmured—no, Tony begged. He could still feel pain because Steve
wasn’t small by any standard of the imagination, and the lack of decent slick
only exacerbated it, but that was his penance if it meant taking back a
fraction of the suffering he owed Steve.
 
The older man lifted his head to trace Tony’s face with his gaze, starting at
his eyes and ending at his lips. Then, he leaned forward and followed the same
path with his mouth. There was no movement between the two of them, save for
the exchange of their mouths, but Tony felt like he was melting right down to
the floor. He grasped the chains slightly to verify that it wasn’t so, and the
rattle of it seemed to spur Steve into action. He pulled out and thrust back
gently into Tony’s heat, drawing moans from the teenager.
 
“This isn’t supposed to be a punishment,” Steve said through a kiss to his jaw
and a thrust of his hips. “I won’t hurt you; you cannot make me do so.” Tony
didn’t intend for him to understand his thoughts, but maybe Steve knew him too
well. “This is all purely selfish of me. This is so that I can think of you,
strung up and aching for me, while I am strung up and aching for you.”
 
“Not,” Tony interrupted through a gasp, “not selfish.” Steve smirked.
 
“I suppose not,” he agreed and extracted another gasp from Tony to validate his
agreement. He kissed the prince and whispered, “Have I told you lately how
beautiful you are?” Tony hummed in mock disagreement, so Steve chuckled. “Well,
you are, especially like this, hung by your wrists and impaled on my cock.”
Tony moaned. “God, yes.” Steve thrust hard, once then again. “So beautifully
responsive to me.”
 
“Steve, please.” Tony was aching. He was aching to be taken hard and fast and
left wanting more. He was aching for this to end and to never end. He was
aching to come and for Steve’s come, but “Please, Steve” was all he could say.
Steve leaned forward and caught the skin of his shoulder in his teeth. He
hefted Tony up further and grasped him properly, and then he was jacking into
Tony as though he wanted to cleave the prince in half from the force of his
thrusts alone. And he could have very well done so by the unimpeded sound he
made. Tony grasped at the chains above him and let Steve use him as he saw fit,
but he moaned and whimpered and begged and sobbed for each and every thrust.
 
“Is this what you want?” Steve asked, and Tony almost paused in disbelief. How
could he even ask? Was it not obvious in the way Tony drew to him like a moth
to flame? Was it not obvious in the way he craved his attention? In the way he
begged for a touch? But then, there was a need in Steve’s voice, a need that
Tony would always find a way to satisfy.
 
“I want so, so much more, Steve,” he confessed. “I want to hold your hand when
we walk through the gardens. I want to fall asleep with you in my bed. I want
people to ask, ‘who is that?’ and me to answer, ‘he’s mine.’ But mostly, I want
to show the world that I belong to no one but you.” Steve’s eyes shone with
unbridled happiness that couldn’t help but force a reflection out of Tony. “For
now, though, yes. Yes, this is what I want.” He kissed the knight and then
whispered, “Make me yours, Steve.”
 
Steve slammed their lips back together and thrust once, twice, three times. He
opened Tony up, cell by cell, and filled him back up with every ounce of
emotion he possessed for the prince, and Tony could do no more than hold on and
accept what he gave. He tightened his legs around Steve, pulling him even
closer when he slammed in, and cried out his pleasure. Then Steve grasped his
cock between them and jerked him off to the best of his ability, and Tony
couldn’t help but cry his release into the air.
 
His pleasure was overshadowed, moments later, by oversensitivity, but Steve was
still thrusting with reckless abandon. He allowed the knight to take his fill
and use him until he buried his face into Tony’s shoulder, and he, too, poured
out his release.
 
They stood still, only breathing heavily for long moments, and then Steve
pulled out gently, pulling a wince from Tony at the same time. He let the
prince’s legs down, ignoring the red of the blood from his back that stained
the length of white skin, and turned him to face the wall.
 
“Let me see,” he said, voice full of concern as he knelt and spread Tony’s
legs. The prince couldn’t help but blush as his lover inspected his hole, with
his eyes and his fingers, for any bleeding. He had just come not five minutes
ago; he should not find the treatment as arousing as it did.
 
Then, not even Steve’s warm breath could have warned his cry of surprise away
when Steve’s tongue, without warning, laved over his sore, dripping hole. He
jerked against the chains and thrust his hips back almost inadvertently.
 
“S—Steve?” he gasped, questioning.
 
“Shhh,” Steve murmured from behind him, below him, and then his mouth was
applied again on Tony’s hole, and his tongue found its way where his cock had
been. Tony couldn’t help the broken noise that escaped him while Steve licked
and sucked him there. His cock was filling again, but he didn’t know if he had
anything more to give. It didn’t seem to matter to Steve who found no reason to
stop, just thrust his tongue in and out the channel, soothing and heating at
the same time.
 
Tony was babbling, he knew he was. Incoherent and random mutterings
interspersed with sobs of pleasure fell from his lips. Steve ignored all this
and ate him out at his own pace, as though he was enjoying but a delicious
dinner.
 
“I—I can’t!” Tony nearly wailed as he felt the edge nearing. Steve ignored him,
but tightened his hands around Tony’s bare hips when they jerked repetitively.
He was held still, by the iron chains and the iron grip, but he trembled all
over, every cell in his body vibrated with lust and desire and pleasure. The
sore ring of the entrance heightened his awareness of the tongue squirming in
him, licking him on the inside. It was at that thought that Tony, suddenly and
without forewarning, came over the wall, splattering it with what little come
he could spare. The scream that was supposed to accompany it stuck in his
throat for the longest while and eventually died into a mere moan. Steve didn’t
stop until he twitched from a second bout of oversensitivity and, beyond that,
said or did nothing.
 
The knight pulled away for a moment, presumably to get the key, and then Tony
found his hands falling to his side and found himself falling backwards into
Steve’s arms.
 
“Good?” Steve asked, a teasing note in his voice. Tony couldn’t answer. He was
sure his tongue had stopped working at some point, so he only shut his eyes and
allowed himself to be held.
 
……………
 
Bruce looked between them and lifted an eyebrow when they arrived. Nothing on
his face said he didn’t already know what had happened immediately before they
came to him. It didn’t help that Tony’s hair was mussed beyond all help and he
was walking with a slight limp. His clothes luckily hid the destruction at his
neck and wrists, but the hems of his robe bore flecks of blood that Tony wasn’t
sure he could deny. They’d washed up as best as they could before they came,
but blood was a tricky substance to hide especially from one as accustomed to
it as Bruce was.
 
“It isn’t what it looks like,” Tony offered because somehow denying their
liaison had become more important than acknowledging Obadiah’s petty ‘lessons.’
 
“I haven’t said anything,” Bruce pointed out, but his face clearly showed he
didn’t believe a word Tony said. Thankfully, he didn’t call them out on their
denial and instead addressed the purpose of their visit. “Sit down and take
your shirt off,” he then told Steve who complied quickly. The apprentice doctor
frowned at the sight of his back, but almost as easily sighed as he got to
work.
 
Tony sat on one of the desks, swinging his legs as he alternated between
watching Bruce and Steve and staring out the window. It didn’t take long, this
time, because Bruce had grown somewhat accustomed to their occasional visits
and didn’t bother asking about it anymore.
 
“Thank you, Bruce,” Steve smiled when Bruce had finished and allowed him to
pull on his shirt.
 
“I’d suggest taking a bit more care, but I don’t know how long that’s going to
last,” the doctor-in-training said with a wry twist to his mouth. Tony hopped
off the desk and inspected the bandages just before they disappeared beneath
the hem of the tunic. He then caressed the covered back gently, both in comfort
and to check for any real damage. He found nothing, but Steve’s shoulders
tensed in an obvious sign of hiding his pain. He opened his mouth to apologize,
but Steve whirled around and slapped a palm over his mouth.
 
“I swear to the Lord almighty, if you apologize again, I’ll—” He broke off
abruptly, eyes widening, and Tony pulled the hand at his mouth away to reveal
an amused smile underneath.
 
“You’ll what, darling? Put me on my knees?” he asked cheekily. And then his
eyes widened in alarm and flicked to Bruce to see the man watching them with
detached and wistful amusement. Bruce caught his gaze.
 
“Oh, don’t mind me,” he said quickly, holding his hands out in a placating
gesture. “I mean, if I hadn’t figured out your relationship the first time you
visited, I should probably thinking of giving up this profession really.” Tony
smiled weakly at the attempt at humor, but there was still a feeling of
nakedness at their relationship being brought out into light. Bruce’s teasing
smile turned a bit more serious and sincere at it. “I understand, your
highness. I really do, probably more than anyone else here.”
 
“Have your own secret relationship, do you, doctor?” Steve asked lightly.
 
“Well, not anymore,” Bruce admitted as he cleaned up his medical supplies. “I
left when her father found out. Been avoiding him—and her—until the good doctor
ran into me and offered me an apprenticeship.”
 
“Why did you leave?”
 
“I was poor. She was rich. You should know how that goes, Sir Steven,” Bruce
laughed humorlessly, mockingly.
 
“Have you spoken to her since?” Steve asked.
 
“I value my head on my shoulders too much to do so,” he answered with a wry
grin. “Although I have considered once or twice realigning my priorities.”
 
“Well, maybe I could help,” Tony offered. “What’s her name?” Bruce looked like
he didn’t want to tell, but it was hard-wired in him—in the same way that it
was in all of them—that he couldn’t not answer a question from royalty.
 
“Lady Elizabeth Ross, your highness,” he admitted eventually. Tony’s eyebrows
lifted in surprise.
 
“Really?” he gaped. “Well, it’s a miracle you escaped alive. Lord Thaddeus may
be one of father’s oldest noblemen, but he’s certainly one of the most insane.”
Bruce nodded in agreement, but Tony looked a bit crestfallen. “Father won’t
want to interfere and anger Lord Thaddeus. I don’t know if I can command him to
let you see her or be with her.”
 
“It’s fine, Prince Anthony. Really, it is,” Bruce said, but Tony suddenly lit
up.
 
“I could ask her to come and have tea with me though. I’m sure Lord Thaddeus
would be more than amenable to that. I mean, I can’t possibly be sure that I’ll
be available for her for the entire duration of her stay—I’m incredibly busy,
you see—but I’m sure I can get someone to show her around,” he said with a
mischievous grin and an outrageous wink. Steve laughed loudly and kissed his
temple, but Bruce gave a small, if incredibly grateful smile.
 
“I’m sure you could, your highness,” he answered, and Tony beamed.
 
……………
 
He hadn’t missed a class. He hadn’t missed any of Obadiah’s deadlines. He had
learned to hold his tongue and speak politely to the archduke and all of his
cronies. He hadn’t made any nighttime visits outside the castle—in fact, he’d
rarely had any chance to well and truly bewith Steve in case Obadiah found
offense to that. For the last two weeks, he’d kept Steve out of the dungeons.
For the last two weeks, he had been doing so well.
 
But of course, all good things had to come to an end.
 
"This is unfair!" Tony cried. He pulled against the hands that held him in
place because Steve was strung up once more in front of him, slice after slice
cutting through his skin by a metal-tipped whip that might have well be tipped
with a blade. This time around, his screams were muffled by a carefully applied
gag, and his words of threat and of comfort were rendered useless. "Stop!
Archduke, this is insane! I command you to stop!"


To his surprise, Obadiah held up a hand and the whips did stop.


"This is unfair," Tony repeated, quieter this time, though his voice shook with
fear and anger. "This is not a mistake, it is not mine. I cannot sign that
decree—moving the trade routes from Potts to Stane will kill their economy, and
possibly that of the entire kingdom! There's a reason my father put it there—"


"No, Anthony," Obadiah answered. "Your father put it there as a gift for
Duchess Viola—no other reason. He gave it to her in thanks of all the nights
she spent in his bed!"


"Liar!" Tony screamed and just as he did, the whip snapped once.


"You can ask your father yourself or you can not make the same mistake and sign
this decree!"


"No!" Tony answered, firm and sure because he couldn't undo his father's
orders, no matter what or why those orders had been made. And they weren't rash
decisions either even if what Obadiah was saying was true. Potts was fertile
land, in the most economic of senses, and keeping it well fed with trade
benefited Stark as a whole.


"Then you have doomed Steve to his punishment," Obadiah sneered, and then
snapped at the punisher, "Fifty!"


"No! Stop! That's unfair! That's—archduke, stop!" Tony cried, his struggles
renewed. "Father will hear about this! He'll side with me on this! He’ll strip
you of your lands for ruining his plans—and that Steve and I are in a
relationship won’t save you!" Obadiah froze—discreet enough that no one would
have noticed had Tony not been glaring so carefully at him—then shifted his
stance and turned a critical eye toward Tony.
 
“You overestimate your influence toward your father, Anthony; I thought I had
schooled you on this,” he said. “You may be your father’s son and next in line
to the throne, but your father has known me longer, has enjoyed my loyalty to
him. He knows that I act only in complete deference to him.” His guard raised
the whip over his head once more, but was suddenly held in place when Obadiah
said, “However.” His voice was wrought with such affection and tender care that
made Tony’s anger wilt and give way completely to fear. The room paused to wait
for his words. “I do see that you have been trying really hard, Anthony,” he
said, petting Tony’s hair as one would to a toddler. “And in light of that good
behavior, I’d like to give you a reward: an opportunity to reduce Steven’s
sentence.”
 
“Anything,” Tony answered quickly, suddenly overwhelmed with relief and
desperate for that chance to fix this without having to out them to his father.
Steve made a noise of protest behind his gag, but he was easily ignored. What
was more concerning was the unmistakable triumphant gleam in the archduke’s
eyes. Tony felt a cold wash of fear come over him at the sight of it, but he
wasn’t going to retract his answer. He was willing to do anything that would
alleviate any of Steve’s pain. The hand in his hair tracked its way down his
head to cup his jaw, and Tony swallowed as Obadiah tilted his chin up slowly.
 
“I’ll reduce the number of lashes to twenty,” he said and there wasn’t even a
hitch in his words that would indicate a compassion, a humanity in him as he
said those words. Then he whispered, audibly enough to be heard by everyone in
the room, “If you pleasure me with your mouth.”
 
Steve’s scream of protest and of anger was loud enough to be heard possibly all
the way up to the main level. Tony had never heard him scream that loud before,
and it momentarily startled his attention away from Obadiah’s offer. Steve’s
eyes were wide and panicked more than angry, and he struggled against the
chains to get to the prince, making them clatter loudly. The genius could
understand his muffled yells clearly enough, and it made him start to
really think about what he would be agreeing to. But then Raza stepped forward
and kicked him in the stomach, silencing him momentarily. And then the captain
punched him and kicked him again and again and again while horror reared its
head in Tony, and he blurted out his answer without thinking.
 
“Yes, okay!” he agreed. He turned away from Steve, missing the way he shook his
head to clear away the effects of Raza’s beating, and slowly fell to his knees.
It took the knight a second more to get his bearings, allowing Tony a moment
to not think as he freed Obadiah’s cock from his robes. And then the whip
snapped, and Steve howled, and Tony swallowed Obadiah down.
 
The whip cracked again as Obadiah tangled his fingers in Tony’s hair, and again
while Tony sucked on the tip of his cock and down its length. It cracked when
Obadiah thrust forward, and Tony gagged around him, and again when he pulled
back. By then, Steve’s screams were an amalgamation of pain and protest and
despair, and Tony had to try very hard not to think about him while he sought
to bring the archduke off as quickly as he possibly could. Even harder was to
try to ignore the filth and vitriol that fell from Obadiah’s lips.
 
“Marvelous how exquisite your mouth feels, Anthony. I have to admit that I’m
stunned,” he was saying through his moans of pleasure and the cracking of the
whip. Tony closed his eyes and stroked the other man’s length. “Makes me wonder
if it’s truly only Steven you’ve ever pleasured because it certainly feels like
you’ve had a lot more practice than that.” Tony ignored him and the fingers
that tightened in his hair and pulled at his scalp. The words were so much
different from the way Steve spoke to him. Steve made him flushed and hot, made
him wanton and aching. These words, however, only felt like sludge, creeping
over him, making his stomach roil in disgust. “It’s not an altogether strange
thing, after all, to imagine you on your knees, servicing one manhood after
another, men lining up to fill your mouth with their cock and come. I daresay
you might come to like it even.” The prince made a small, protesting noise, but
was quickly silenced with a harsh thrust into his mouth.
 
“It’s an interesting concept that maybe we can explore one day: Stark’s little
prince: a cockwhore and a cumslut. What say you?” His tone was teasing, but
there was a hint of darkness barely hidden beneath the surface. Tony said
nothing while Steve roared his fury. Amusement leaked from Obadiah’s every
pore, but he said nothing further, instead taking over Tony’s fellatio and
fucking into his mouth with reckless abandon. Tony could do nothing but clutch
at the archduke’s robes, hold his mouth lax and struggle to keep from heaving
the contents of his stomach onto the floor.
 
The whipping had stopped by the time Obadiah’s thrusts grew staggered and
erratic. He shifted a hand down to Tony’s cheek and dug his thumb into the skin
and in between his teeth to hold the prince’s mouth open while he pulled out
completely. With his other hand, he jacked himself off and, with a grunt, came
spectacularly all over Tony’s face, striping his cheeks and eyelids and the
inside of his mouth with his come. He released his cock with one last groan,
discreetly covering it with his robes, and caressed Tony’s cheek. Tony held
perfectly still as the come was smeared further into his skin, but obeyed when
Obadiah physically pushed his jaw shut with a fond smile on his face.
 
“Swallow,” he ordered, and Tony did, nearly gagging on the foul taste of his
seed. “Good boy,” came the praise and the affectionate pets to the hair as Tony
bowed his head. Then Obadiah and the guards swept out of the room, but not
without lingering glances at Tony that made his skin crawl. It was a small
blessing that they said or did nothing as they left—as of yet, anyway.
 
The door shut behind the last guard, leaving Steve still strung up and Tony
still on his knees where Obadiah left him. His body thrummed with guilt and
humiliation, and he couldn’t find the will in him to face Steve just yet, so he
allowed the cloying silence and stillness to reign around them.
 
Steve made a small noise to call his attention. Tony said nothing and didn’t
move. He tried to appear as if he hadn’t heard Steve at all, but when the
knight made a louder noise, the prince could no longer claim to have missed it.
He stood slowly and deliberately, wiped his face clean with his sleeve, and
walked to where the key would be hanging. Then, he went to Steve and freed him
from his shackles, all the while refusing to look at him. Steve grabbed him at
the first opportunity, and, despite a brief, feeble struggle, was able to pull
him into his arms.
 
“Anthony,” Steve whispered, so softly that Tony had to strain his ears to hear.
His voice was laced with so much pain that Tony knew wasn’t from being whipped.
To that, the first tear fell, and the first choked sob escaped him, followed
quickly by the next one, and the next one, and the next one until Tony was
crying, long and loud, into Steve’s chest, apologizing like he always did after
every one of these sessions. This time, though, he was apologizing for so much
more. Steve said nothing and held him for what seemed like hours until his
voice grew rough, and he couldn’t cry anymore.
 
“I’m sorry,” Tony repeated. “I didn’t want you hurting anymore. Not for me. I’m
sorry.” Steve shushed him and rocked him gently.
 
“I don’t need protecting, Tony. Not from you. Not from this. I can handle pain;
I’m trained to,” he answered. “But seeing you kneeling for him where I couldn’t
do anything about it, watching you—” Steve’s voice broke off with a single
choked sob of his own, and he bent to press his face into Tony’s neck. “—I
couldn’t protect you. I couldn’t do anything. I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” Tony
tightened his grip on Steve’s waist, pulling him closer in lieu of hugging him,
which would only aggravate his back, as the knight broke down in sobs that Tony
had never heard before. It was gutting, and Tony had never felt so wretched.
 
“It’s not your fault, love, not one iota of it. It
was my choice, my decision, my fault. You have nothing to be sorry for,” Tony
tried to assure him, stroking his hair. The knight straightened into a stand,
wiping his eyes with the back of his forearm. There was misery and self-
loathing in him, visible in his glittering eyes.
 
“I shouldn’t have let it get this far. Dame Peggy and Sir Phil were right; we
should have put a stop to this before it could escalate. We should have—” Tony
slapped a hand over his mouth.
 
“We should have nothing! I’m not giving you up, Steve, not for anything, not
for the world, not even if I had to whore myself out to every one of Obadiah’s
men.” Steve hissed at him, anger twisting his mouth into a frown.
 
“Except when your father decides that it’s time for you to marry, you mean,” he
said. Pain twisted Tony’s heart as he reeled back because Steve was right. He
was right because this would never have happened in the first place if there
hadn’t been the risk of that happening, of his father tearing them apart the
moment he found that he and Steve were together. “I’m sorry,” Steve apologized
almost immediately, all anger draining as soon as Tony’s warmth left him. He
reached out and pulled the prince back into his arms, holding him tight. “I’m
sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. No, you aren’t going to whore yourself out
to them. I refuse to allow you to. If this happens again, Anthony, I’m going to
rip Stane’s head off his neck, regardless of the king finding out,” he was
saying, but Tony couldn’t hear him over the sound of his own thoughts. They
were flitting through his head at impossible speeds, plans and options and
factors and possible consequences.
 
“Run away with me,” the prince finally said. He didn’t look at Steve, but felt
him freeze.
 
“What?” the soldier whispered.
 
“Run away with me.” Tony finally looked up at him, conveying all his
determination and sincerity. “As soon as we can. We’ll leave before my father
returns and stops us. No one will know. We’ll go to the duchy of Duchess Viola,
and from there to the Xavier kingdom where no one can find us.” He was talking
fast now, desperate to get Steve to agree, but the knight only seemed stunned.
“We can get work at one of the small towns, you and I, and start our own life
there where no one can tell us we can’t be together. We could be happy together
in a way that we never could here. Steven, please.”
 
“You—you’ll abdicate the throne for me?” Steve’s whisper was full of reverence
and awe, which shouldn’t have been because Tony would do anything for him.
 
“Of course,” the teenager answered. “I told you I’d whore myself out for you,
and you wonder that I’ll abdicate the throne? Ofcourse I would, Steve. I just
don’t know why I hadn’t thought of it before.” Steve kissed him, all passion
and longing, and Tony scrambled to kiss him back just as fervently.
 
“Okay,” Steve said, pressing his forehead to Tony’s. “Okay.” Tony’s heart
soared and he allowed himself a moment to dream of all the possibilities of a
life with Steve. It would involve things he’d never done before; it would
involve hardships of the likes that he couldn’t even imagine. He would no
longer be “His Royal Highness, Prince Anthony of Stark,” but just “Anthony.”
 
Anthony Rogers.
 
His heart fluttered in the cage of his chest, and he couldn’t help but give in
to the urge to kiss Steve again.
 
……………
 
"You aren't going to get very far before they catch you."


Steve tensed his body and stilled his movements, his towel still pressed to his
face to dry up the water he'd splashed on it. Slowly and as discreetly as he
could manage, he lowered the towel down to his crotch. Though he wasn't as
concerned as much with his nudity as he was with Natasha's words, it couldn't
hurt to be just a little bit modest. By Natasha's smirk, though, it was a
futile attempt, mostly because his ass was still on full view.


He had hoped and prayed they could have gotten away without her knowledge, but
to be honest, he hadn't expected it—nothing could slip by the spy, especially
not when she was so personally invested in it—so her approach wasn't a
surprise. It was still, however, particularly concerning in that, if she knew,
she could be bound to stop them. She was a friend by virtue of her friendship-
cum-relationship with Bucky, but he didn't know her as well as he needed to in
order to know for sure how deep her loyalties to the king lie (he didn’t think
anyone, not even Bucky, was that close).


"You and I both know, Natasha, that we could, should you choose to keep quiet
about it," he answered while he wrapped the towel around his waist and resumed
his nighttime ritual of washing and shaving.


"And you think Duchess Viola will favor a rebellious prince and his illicit
lover over her allegiance to the king and kingdom?" Steve turned away from to
mirror to face her and see her leaning against the wall with her arms crossed
over her chest. The door was shut, and Bucky was nowhere in sight, a small
relief all things considered because he felt free to think about what she was
asking (ignoring for a moment what her question implied) without having to
worry about fending off Bucky's protests.


Trusting Pepper's mother to keep them hidden had never been an option, which
was why they hadn't planned on letting her know they were seeking passage
through her lands. However, to expect her to be unaware of their presence there
was a long shot they had no choice but to risk—at worst, Tony would be sent
home and be given a stiff reprimand by his father, and Steve… Well, Tony's
well-being would be safe, which was the important thing. None of the other
lands could be expected to ensure as much. He didn't answer Natasha, though,
both because her question was rhetorical and because Steve didn't think sharing
their escape plans with her would be helpful or wise when he didn't know yet if
she intended to help them or stop them. Natasha hummed in thought as she walked
over. Her attention was fixed on Steve's heavily marked back, and somehow,
Steve got the idea that she felt personally responsible to see to its healing.


"Why are you here, Natasha?" he asked while she prodded at his wounds and
scars, clucking all the while.


"You won't get far. Not without help," she answered nonchalantly, almost
absently, and this time, Steve seized up in hope.
 

"And I suppose this is your way of letting me know you'd be willing to extend
your assistance?" he asked back, exactly as casually as he could manage. He
could see in the mirror her head pop up over his shoulder. A new smirk was on
her lips, but Steve was hard pressed to decipher it.


"The thought had crossed my mind," she said. Steve paused, the enormity of that
occupying him for a moment.


"But… why?" he eventually asked. None of the casual confidence he had tried to
affect remained in his tone any longer. Natasha ducked her head back down and
stepped away, satisfied, it seemed, with what she found.


"Does the 'why' really matter, Steven?" she returned as Steve turned to face
her.


"It's just… I don't understand why you'd help me steal away the kingdom's only
heir. If anyone found out…" She scowled.


"I'm taking that as a sign of concern for me and thanking you rather than a
slight towards my skills, which I'm sure you didn't intend." Steve blushed and
stammered an apology. Of course it wasn't a slight; Steve knew firsthand how
good Natasha was at what she did. He just didn't want others risking themselves
for him. Natasha smiled and patted his cheek. "It doesn't matter, anyway. I
wasn't planning on staying for long after you leave—only enough to assist with
the transition and make sure neither Obadiah nor any one of his people is named
successor." Steve was confused and a little bit concerned. "I thought it was
time for me to move on, you know: find new challenges, conquer new worlds." The
knight was pretty sure his face expressed fear—Natasha seeking world domination
was a frightful concept. Steve didn't doubt her ability to do so, and was sure
she'd be a terrifying, though merciful, dictator—but Natasha only laughed and
patted his cheek. "Dress properly, Steven. We have somewhere to be."


She half-forced him into a simple tunic and marched him out the door. They
discreetly made their way through the barracks, drawing little attention from
the soldiers who were readying themselves for bed, and across the grounds,
following a path which Steve was intimately familiar with. He frowned.


"The answer's still 'no,' Natasha, no matter what Anthony says," he thought to
tell her. She laughed again, but didn't respond to the jibe even when they
reached the ground beneath Tony's window. She glanced up once, flicked out a
pair of small blades into her palms, and then launched herself onto the side of
the wall. She scaled it with an ease and finesse that suggested this wasn't the
first time she had done this—or the second, or third, or even the tenth for
that matter. Steve waited for her to swing herself up onto the balcony before
he too made his way up the wall, digging his fingers and toes into the niches
he had long since carved for himself.


The numerous memories of each instance he scaled the wall piled up in his mind,
making the trek up and his landing mostly uncomfortable. He half-expected, on
slipping through the window, to find Tony unclothed on his bed, for all the
times he'd done so. It was a minor disappointment that he wasn't, but Tony
greeted him with a deep kiss, so it wasn't a complete loss. When they'd pulled
apart, Steve saw a group sitting on the floor around a map. In the group were
Pepper, Rhodey, Clint, Natasha… and Bucky. Steve's eyebrows shot to his
hairline.


"What?" his best friend said. "You sulk like a child—I'd much rather help you
commit treason than sit through your sulking for the rest of my life." Steve's
automatic response would have been to fire back a retort, but the intention was
unmistakable and, frankly, touching, and Tony was burying himself in Steve's
chest, so the knight could only manage a genuine smile. Bucky gave one back and
then turned back to the map.


Steve ignored them for one moment, turning to the boy in his arms. He wrapped
both arms around Tony, kissed the top of his head. Then he tilted Tony’s chin
up.


"Are you sure about this?" he whispered. Tony frowned.


"Of course I am," he said. "Aren't you?"


"It's just… You're going to give all of this up: your family, your place in
line, the kingdom, the throne… So much… And for just me?" Tony scowled and then
jerked Steve down to crash their lips together. Their teeth clicked, and pain
bloomed where their lips smashed together awkwardly, but Steve held Tony tight
against him anyway.


"You're an idiot if you think any of that matters to me more than you do," Tony
answered when they pulled apart. Steve stroked his cheek and couldn't help but
kiss him again.


"I love you," Steve whispered and kissed him again. "I love you." Kiss. "I love
you so much." Kiss. "I love you." Their last kiss was longer this time, almost
unending if someone hadn't cleared their throat, and then they remembered that
they had company. Both blushed in embarrassment and took their place in the
circle amidst amused, knowing grins.


"Okay, so now that Steven and his highness have stopped… exchanging
pleasantries," Clint started. There were several laughs concealed (poorly) by
coughs. "We can talk about how best to get them out of the kingdom."


...............


It was unusual for Obadiah's men to storm into the study while he and Lady
Indries were in the middle of a lesson (in fact, it was unusual for them to
enter the room at all). That alone put Tony on the edge.


"What's your business here?" he demanded, rising from his seat slowly. Unlike
Raza, he didn't know the names of these men, and that somehow terrified him
more than it should have.


"The archduke has commanded you to remain here for the afternoon, your
highness," the one on the right answered as they stationed themselves by the
door. Tony's eyes narrowed.


"And I assume you’re here to make sure I comply?” They said nothing, but then
again, they didn’t have to. Their silence was enough of an answer. “And if I
command you to let me leave?" he tried. He knew for sure that he couldn't have
overridden Obadiah's command over these two men, regardless of Tony's higher
rank, but it didn't hurt to try. As expected, neither of them budged from their
spot. "Can I ask why, then?" he tried. Again, neither man said a word, so Tony
turned to Indries with the same question uttered in silence. She was only as
confused as he, though, which made nothing better, but nothing worse. Tony
tried to step closer to the door, but they moved towards each other and blocked
the exit with their bodies.


"Stay put, little prince. It would not bode well for any of us to disobey
Archduke Stane," the same man said again.


"And it would not bode well for you to disobey a direct order from your liege.
I say step aside," Tony snarled, putting as much authority as his station
warranted into his tone. Both guards tensed at it, but that was as far as they
seemed to be willing to comply. It seemed they were either incredibly loyal to
Stane (and consequently incredibly stupid for having chosen to be) or more
afraid of Stane than of him. Tony, convinced that he could exert no authority
over them, backed away and made his way to the window. He peered out and around
it, trying to find some clues to explain Stane's sudden command, but could see
nothing but the lake before him. 


His eyes narrowed in thought at what could have possibly changed that Obadiah
felt the need to have him watched so closely when he had never done so before.
 
And then it clicked: He knew.
 
Oh god, he knew!
 
Tony slowly turned to see the guardsmen watching him, sadistically delighted
grins on their faces. He had to get out of here; he had to find Steve. They
needed to go now, screw the plan. In his most authoritative voice, he said, "If
you let me go now, I will ask my father to spare you mercy." The other man
smirked.


"If I see him, little prince, I will ask for it myself," he answered with a
sneer. "The same way your knight will have to ask for the archduke's." Tony's
heart stopped. Without a second's thought, he thrust himself at the door,
trying to slip between the two men who had no difficulty holding him back.


"What has he done to Steve?!" Tony screamed, hitting their chests repeatedly
and trying to wedge a shoulder between them. "Let me out! Rhodey! RHODEY!!!"
They grasped his arms and threw him back into the middle of the room. He
stumbled over his own feet and fell to the floor while the second guard took
pleasure in speaking down at him.


"Captain James Rhodes is no longer in your service, your highness. Your guard
has been reassigned, and he, Steven Rogers, James Barnes, Clinton Barton, and
Natasha Romanoff have been tried and sentenced for conspiring to kidnap the
prince." 


What?


"What?" Tony gaped.


"They will be sentenced to public lashings and then held in the dungeon until
the king's return." There was a glee in the guard's voice that Tony wanted to
punch out of him.
 
“No,” the prince whispered, and then louder, “No, he can’t do that! He can’t—”
And then he flew once more toward the men, intent on getting through no matter
what. They pushed him back and kept him away over and over again with little
apparent effort. “Get out of my way!” Tony yelled. He tried throwing things at
them and hitting him with anything he could get his hands on until the first
guard pulled his sword out, a clear warning. The tip was three feet away from
him, but it was clear who the sword was trained at.
 
“I would advise that you remain calm, your highness,” the guard said. The
threat in his tone was hidden under a thin layer of politeness that Tony was
afraid to break. He glanced away from the guard and to the window, numbers
running through his mind as he wondered if he could use that for escape.
 
And then, with a loud and sudden bang, the doors behind the guards were
suddenly thrown open, sending the two of them crashing onto the floor beneath
Tony’s feet. He was caught in surprise and barely managed to dodge the
outstretched sword, but before anything untoward could happen, Sir Philip and
Commander Carter stood above them, their swords trained at the men’s throats.
 
“Your highness,” Phil said, holding out his other hand toward Tony. Tony took
it without question and stepped over the men to stand behind Phil as the
Howling Commandos swarmed the room and surrounded the two guards.

“Falsworth, Jones, Dugan, take these men to the dungeons,” Peggy told her men.
“The rest of you, with me.” Tony fell into step behind Phil who led the march
through the halls with Peggy and her men bringing up the rear. They slowed for
no one, and the silence of the halls was broken only by the clinking of the
metal of the group’s weapons. Servants who milled the hallways made sure to
cast them a wide berth, but save for the few they passed, the halls were
unusually empty.
 
In the courtyard, their horses were standing at the ready, and Tony mounted his
with minimal effort. Like in the castle, Phil led them down to the town. The
crossed the distance at a gallop, slowing only when they reached the
cobblestone streets, and then they stopped completely to leave the horses.
Their trek through houses and buildings was less harried, but only because they
felt the need to prime themselves for the inevitable confrontation. Then, the
lieutenant stopped and turned to Tony, cutting off the rest of the way to the
town square. Peggy and the remaining Commandos surrounded him, blocking the
view of the spectators who were peering out of their windows when they
recognized his presence. Phil put both his hands on Tony's shoulders, an action
sure to be frowned upon by most, but one Tony appreciated now.


"You are the prince," he said with emphasis, with conviction. "You are the
crown prince, Anthony. When we enter the square, remember that." There was such
force in his words that his intent couldn't help but be drilled into Tony.


Tony nodded once and then drew himself to his full height and somehow made
himself seem bigger than his five foot six stature. He threw his shoulders back
and lifted his chin and somehow dwarfed everyone else around him.


Phil's eyes never left his, but he seemed satisfied with what he saw and nodded
back. Then, he moved to the back and allowed Tony to lead their procession.


Horror and anger hit Tony as soon as the blinding afternoon sun that drenched
the wide open space did, but outwardly, he showed nothing but neutral interest
at the five near-naked figures (the men wore only muslin trousers, and Natasha
was given an open-backed dress that allowed her none of the modesty it was
supposed to aim for) bound and kneeling on a crudely put-together platform.
This close, he could hear and understand each of the scornful jeers and shouts
of contempt, and he did his best not to yell in his friends’ defense—it wasn’t
the villagers’ fault; they were being duped by the very man responsible for all
this.
 

Bucky, Rhodey, Clint, and Natasha all knelt upright, strong and defiant while
they waited for Obadiah to exact his punishment. Steve knelt three steps in
front of the rest of them at the front of the platform, his wrists bound in
front of him like the others, but his back free from any new injuries. Obadiah
had a hand in his hair and jerked on it to punctuate and emphasize as he spoke.


"...allow him to get away with taking our beloved prince from us?" he was
saying, earning cheers of agreement from his audience. He pulled Steve's head
back sharply, exposing his throat as though priming to slit it. A sinister
smile crossed his mouth, unrecognizable to everyone except those, like Tony,
who knew what it meant. 


It was at that expression that Tony moved. He drew in a deep breath and said as
loudly as he could without having to yell, "I can assure you, Archduke, that
that man has committed no crime." 


Silence descended on the square. The townspeople slowly turned to face him with
stunned expressions on their faces. It wasn't his first time to be among his
people, but those times were certainly far and few in between. Slowly, the
crowd parted to allow him to pass, but he looked at no one but Obadiah who was
halfway between stunned and furious. His eyes flickered to Phil and Peggy once,
and then he seemed to understand, and slowly, the surprise washed away and left
only fury in its wake.


No matter—Tony no longer feared him.


He climbed the steps with a grace he usually reserved for court, and when he
reached the top of the platform, stepped forward towards the crowd.


"These men have committed no crime, and certainly not the one Archduke Stane is
accusing them of," he said. He didn't have to explain himself to the people. He
could have ordered the five of them to be cut loose, and no one would have
voiced a whimper of protest. But he spoke because this was all a show purely
for the citizens' benefit. He knew, like Obadiah knew, the value of appealing
to their interest. "They have been nothing but loyal to my father and to me. To
punish them for a crime they had not committed is something I will not stand
for!"


Obadiah was seething; Tony could feel it on his skin though he did not spare
the man a glance. The repercussions of these actions were going to hit him full
force when his father returned, Tony knew, and he would have to pit his word
against the archduke's, but he could not stand by any longer and let Steve, or
anyone else, take the fall for him. If he would have to openly abdicate, then
so be it.


"Cut them loose," he ordered the guard who held the whip. He looked terribly
conflicted and glanced several times to Obadiah, asking for permission, it
seemed. Tony held his head up and waited for the man to come to a decision on
his own.


Suddenly, Steve launched himself to his feet and threw himself over Tony,
throwing both of them to the ground. Tony hadn't even managed to let out his
grunt when Steve's entire body weight slammed atop him and an arrow embedded
itself in the spot he had been standing in.


"Natasha!" Steve managed to yell before the whole town was sent into an uproar.
Natasha wasted no time in bolting to her feet and running through the crowd
towards the direction the arrow came. She jumped up on the shoulders of some
random man and used that to launch herself onto a low roof and, from there, to
the higher levels. 


Tony could see, from where he was, a dark figure running across the rooftops
with Natasha's pale figure hot on his heels. Her hands were still bound in
front of her, but that didn't seem to slow her in the least.


The villagers below the platform were screaming and running in confusion and
alarm. Peggy, Phil and the Commandos were working to contain Obadiah's guards
who had engaged them the moment the arrow hit the platform. Rhodey, Bucky, and
Clint had somehow procured themselves swords and were themselves involved in
clashes with Obadiah's men, protecting Steve and Tony from any perceived
threat.


Obadiah stood in the middle of the platform, surrounded by his guard and
looking furious at the proceedings. He glared in the direction of the prince,
his intent clear in his eyes.


In all the commotion, it wasn't out of place to hear a sudden clattering of
hooves against the cobblestones. But nevertheless, Tony couldn't help but look
away from the archduke and towards the direction from which it came.


Sir Nicholas Fury charged through the melee, his horse shouldering aside
villagers who weren't fast enough to get out of his way. The expression on
Nick's face was frighteningly murderous as he galloped up to the platform
without slowing, and when he was close enough, he threw himself off of the
horse and right on top of Obadiah.


Obadiah's guardsmen charged at Nick, but Dame Maria Hill and several other
guards, both Stark and some other land's that Tony was currently hard-pressed
to deduce right now, that had been hot on Nick's heels joined in the fray,
holding them back while Nick subdued the archduke.


"Phil! Take his highness back to the castle. Rogers, Rhodes, go with him!" Nick
barked, even while Obadiah flailed in his arms. Without question, the three
took residence around him, several times parrying swords away from his
direction, but as soon as they broke free from the square where the fight was
concentrated, the threat had almost disappeared. They clambered up on the
horses they had brought with them, Steve and Tony sharing the prince's steed
while Rhodey and Phil claimed their own, and then they galloped their horses as
quickly as they could back up to the castle.


"To your room, your highness. I’ll be with you in a moment," Phil said. He
bowed quickly and ran in the opposite direction. Steve and Rhodey took up
either of his sides and led him through the throng of oblivious servants. The
three of them made haste upstairs, stopping only when they were safely inside
his bedroom. Rhodey made quick work of inspecting the room and the bathroom and
only when he was satisfied did he lock the windows and pull the drapes shut.
They sat in silence and deep thought (broken only by the hand Steve ran up and
down Tony’s back) until Phil returned, two guards with him that he left at the
bedroom door.


"What—what happened? I don't... I'm not quite sure I understood what happened,"
Tony said, trying to keep the tremors of his adrenaline out of his voice.
Phil’s jaw clenched tight at it took a moment for him to speak.


"I don't think I can answer most of your questions right now because I'm not
too sure myself," he said. "I'm sure Commander Nicholas will have the answers
you need when he has subdued the threat. But before the square..." He glanced
at Steve. "You were being followed—that night when you made your plans? The
archduke had you tracked. You and the prince were overheard when you were
talking in the dungeon about running away, so Stane put a spy on you and
listened in on your conversation." There was a wry twist to his mouth. "Really,
did you think making those kinds of plans without securing your surroundings
was wise?" Steve looked chastised.


"Where's Pepper?" Tony suddenly realized. She was one of the people in on the
plan and yet she wasn't with Steve and the others on the platform. His growing
panic was quickly quashed by Phil's answer.


"She's safe," he said quickly. "She's protected by her mother's station;
subjecting her to the same punishment as everyone else would be a political
nightmare, so instead Stane confined her to her chambers until someone from her
duchy can come to pay her ransom. She’s still there." Tony couldn't help but
breathe a sigh of relief.
 
"Okay," he said. "Okay. And then what?"
 
“Peggy and I heard about it after the five of you had already been
apprehended,” Phil said. “That’s when we knew Obadiah had to be taken down.
He’d been allowed too many liberties already.” Once more, Steve—and Tony this
time—looked chastised. “But she and I were in argument as to whether or not to
involve you. She was determined it was a security risk, but I was convinced you
were both needed to be seen by the town and that you would want to be there.”
He grinned wryly. “Nick’s probably going to have my hide for that, but—”
 
“No,” Tony said. “No, you did the right thing. I’ll vouch for you on that.”
Phil shook his head and laughed without amusement before heading to the window
to peer out of it.
 
“They’re on their way back,” he noted almost absently, then looked to Tony.
“Could I, in any way, persuade you to stay here?” Tony grinned.
 
“I’ll tell them you valiantly tried to stop me,” he answered. Phil laughed
again, this time with a greater degree more amusement.
 
...............
 
“We were ambushed,” Nick said as soon as all the meeting’s participants,
himself, Tony, Maria Hill (his other lieutenant), Phil, Peggy, and Natasha, had
arrived and settled down.
 
They were in the war room, somewhere both familiar and unfamiliar to Tony. It
was mostly unused as Stark hadn’t been involved in a war for many decades
now—well before his father had become king—but Tony had been in here before
when his father decided it was high time that he be familiarized with this
aspect of his future rule. The room itself was windowless and hidden by four
solid walls and a heavy door. It was filled with maps and books that all
professed usefulness should war arise and decorated with the armors of past
kings—Howard’s included. It smelled of old parchment and dust as few people,
mainly the curator and some high-ranking military officials like Peggy, ever
accessed this room.
 
It felt cold.
 
“Just outside the borders of Asgard as we were headed home. The enemy arrived
on foot, dressed in all black with not a single insignia on them,” Nick
continued, pacing before Tony. “They took us out meticulously and
systematically. They seemed to know exactly where and how to strike to get
through the best of our attacks. In the end, it was only Maria, myself, and two
of our men who were left standing by the time we managed to take down their
leader and force the rest to scramble. Maria and I held the man at bay while
Jasper and Melinda checked on the king and queen.” He stopped and all movement
in the room, including the breaths of its occupants seemed to stop with him as
well.
 
“And then?” Tony prompted, trying to feign an indifference he did not feel.
Nick stared at him for a second longer than was warranted and then nodded.
 
“We interrogated the assassin, and managed to glean the information that it was
the Archduke who contracted their services. He refused to give us the name of
his organization, though, but we found this.” He gestured to the dagger Maria
placed on the table. The hilt was engraved with a symbol Tony was not familiar
with. It seemed, though, that he wasn’t alone because none of the others seemed
to recognize it either.
 
Except Natasha, that is.
 
She stared at the dagger distrustfully and refused to view it up close like all
the others had. Nick narrowed his eyes at her.
 
“What do you know of this?” he demanded. She pursed her lips.
 
“That is the seal of the KGB—Komitet Gosudarstvennoy Bezopasnosti,” she
answered. “They’re from Shostakova, a local but well known and efficient
assassin group. They are contracted by the Shostakova monarchy so often that
people think them to be the monarchy’s personal killing arm, but they are not.
This is the first I’ve heard of them taking on a foreign client, though.” Nick
frowned.
 
“We might have to regard Shostakova as hostile, in that case,” he mused out
loud.
 
“My parents,” Tony interrupted. “Where are they?” Nick blinked at the
interruption and the adopted a sincere, somber aura.
 
“We took them to Asgard where King Odin promised to care for them and send them
back. Meanwhile, the four of us, along with a handful of Asgardian warriors and
their own crown prince, Thor, were sent ahead to deal with Obadiah’s threat.”
 
Tony allowed Nick’s story to sink in. He held strong, doing his best to detach
himself from his emotions even as they threatened to consume him. He and Howard
didn’t have the most ideal of relationships, but he loved Howard just as much
as he loved his mother, which is to say very much, but he couldn't afford to
break down and cry like he wanted to or else he didn't know when he would
stop—not an auspicious start to his rule.
 
God, his rule.
 
He was king of Stark now.
 
He thought he'd have more time.
 
He thought he wouldn't become king at all.
 
He had plans. 
 
Steve.
 
“I need to talk to Sir Steven,” he suddenly said, cutting off Nick's speech
about weeding out any opposition among the nobles. The others, who were
inspecting the assassin’s dagger, looked up at him, and Nick frowned in
confusion.
 
“Steven Rogers?” he asked, looking to Phil for answers.
 
“Your highness, I think we have more pressing issues to address right now. A
change in monarchy is sure to bring about the threat of war we need to
discuss—” Peggy tried, but Tony cut her off sharply.
 
“I know what a change in monarchy does,” he nearly snarled. “And I
will handle it, but right now, I need to talk to Steve!” There was silence
among the people in the room. Then, Natasha exited discreetly, leaving the
tension to simmer.
 
Tony held his silence and avoided any looks. More than that, he tried not to
think about how his parents were now dead, leaving him in charge of a kingdom
he wasn’t yet remotely ready to lead, and instead thought about that night he
and Steve spent together just before Obadiah came to stay at the castle. He
thought about the feel of Steve's skin beneath his fingertips, his scent, his
taste. He thought about how Steve looked at him through his ocean blue eyes and
told him he loved him.
 
The door opened, and Natasha slipped in. Steve, now in full armor, entered
immediately after her and shut the door behind him. Tony started toward him
almost involuntarily, aching for the strength of his arms to be wrapped around
him. 
 
“Steve,” he said, all the regret and apology he could possibly convey held in
his tone. Even through the cold armor, he could feel Steve’s warmth.
 
“I understand," Steve murmured so that only Tony could hear him. "I understand,
and I'll be here—I'll always be here,” he added. And it was how he could talk
like that, how he could give Tony the comfort he needed even though he himself
lost his parent too that gave Tony the confidence to pull back and hold his
head high. Then Tony turned back to Nick and gestured for him to continue. For
a moment, Nick’s attention was held by the imposing figure of a common knight
standing at the new king’s shoulder. He turned to Phil who only shook his head,
but eventually seemed to decide to drop it for now and resumed his discussion.
 
“Internally, our biggest problems lie in the lands of Stane and Hammer; Killian
and Stone aren’t big enough to pose a threat, although we should watch out for
potential spies and assassins among them. Stane’s son will likely attempt to
follow through with his father’s plan, and Lord Justin has long since been
seeking autonomy,” the head of the royal guard said.
 
“It would be best, I think, if Lord Ezekiel finds himself a guest of the castle
before news of his father’s death reaches his ears. I’m certain a carriage can
be arranged to collect him, and if he finds of his father’s death mid-journey
and acts accordingly, he would already have been in our custody, and he will
find himself a guest of our dungeons,” Phil suggested. They looked to Tony who
nodded.
 
“Please send someone to do so now,” he instructed, staring at the map spread
before him. Ezekiel, only a few years older than Tony, was already wrought with
the ambition of his father. Tony knew, several times, that Obadiah had
suggested to Howard a union between their sons, but because Stane was already
receiving incredible favor from Howard by virtue of his and Obadiah’s
friendship, Howard didn’t think it would gain any more advantage to wed them to
each other. There was no such connection between Tony and Zeke, however (and
not for the lack of trying on Zeke’s part), and without that favor, Stane’s
power would be considerably lessened. It wasn’t unbelievable, therefore, to
think that Zeke would either try to curry it with Tony somehow or take it
forcibly altogether.
 
But for Hammer, he disagreed with Nick’s assessment. They weren’t as big a
problem as Nick seemed to think. In fact, they wouldn’t be a problem at all if
not for the size of their lands. Hammer used to supply the entire army as well
as many of the private guards around Stark, with their weapons. This allowed
them to amass land and wealth which held even after when Howard grew frustrated
with the poor quality of weapons and took over its production himself. Now,
Hammer had fallen out of favor with the royal family and had consequently lost
much of their power.
 
Unlike Stane, though, who Tony knew would attempt to curry favor first and then
take over the kingdom next, autonomy would be a better option for Hammer. First
off, they’d never garner Tony’s favor, and they knew it because Lord Justin,
Hammer’s heir, was an annoying little louse that Tony hated with every fiber of
his being. Secondly, they would never win against the army. Hammer, out of a
misplaced sense of pride, fashioned their men in Hammer weapons, which would
never hold up against Stark products. Autonomy meant they would fight off the
battlefield and in the political arena. Even then, they still didn’t pose much
of a threat. While Tony couldn’t claim to be an expert in politics, he was
nothing short of a genius and was consequently confident he could take anything
thrown his way, and if that fails, he had a whole bevy of political experts on
hand at any point in time.
 
“Externally, we should rally our borders against Khan,” Peggy added, pointing
to the eastern side of the map. “Its ruler has not made a secret of wanting to
take over Stark, and they have the means and methods to do so.” Tony frowned as
he scanned the large mass of land Peggy was referring to. The emperor of Khan
was exceedingly hostile. And dangerous.
 
“Can we take them?” he asked, looking up at both commanders. Peggy stole a look
at Nick before answering.
 
“We can, if all our attention is redirected to them. It will leave us open to
an attack from Shostakova and Shaw, among others, but we can.” Tony bit his
lip, both in thought and in worry.
 
He was sixteen; he was still in his teens, and here he was, making decisions
that would affect the fate of many and possibly change the course of history
for his kingdom as well as the world. He didn’t know what he was supposed
to do or how he was supposed to do it. He clenched his fists at the thought of
his parents, cold and dead in a foreign country, and Obadiah rotting in the
dungeon—the three people who he relied on to guide him in the ways of a proper
ruler. Who did he have left, who could he turn to for advice, for
encouragement, for comfort?
 
“If I may, your majesty,” Steve suddenly spoke from behind him. Tony didn’t
startle at the suddenness. He only felt a jolt of relief enter him because in
the course of his contemplation, he had forgotten Steve.
 
“Of course,” he answered. Nick was giving Steve a withering glare for speaking
out of place—if the king hadn’t called for him, he wouldn’t have even been
here—but both Steve and Tony ignored him.
 
“This is not a burden you must bear on your own,” Steve said, his voice strong
and serious, but his words a copy of a loving murmur that had Tony thinking he
meant something else. “Asgard will be wanting to prove their good will to you,
seeing as the king and queen…” He pause, searching for the right word. “…fell
near their borders following an invitation to their kingdom; we can seek their
assistance in suppressing any threat from Shostakova. Asgard is small in
comparison, but each of their warriors is fierce enough to handle a hundred
enemies.”
 
“And Shaw?” Tony prompted.
 
“I do not doubt that the king of Xavier would be unwilling to extend his
assistance to us,” Steve pointed to the kingdom on the map. It didn’t escape
Tony that he brushed against him when he leaned over. He was only disappointed
that the armor kept him from feeling the warmth of his skin. “Our longstanding
alliance with them would guarantee that they would come to our aid if and when
the need arises.”
 
“It helps, I think,” Natasha interjected smoothly, “that its prince consort has
a personal vendetta against Shaw’s former king and, by proxy, the kingdom
itself and its new king, Johann. I believe, in fact, that it was he who
instigated the uprising a decade ago that lead to King Sebastian’s beheading.”
Hackles rose at the revelation and Tony’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. That
they didn’t know as it wasn’t mentioned in any record of the Shaw revolution.
And for King Charles to have married him anyway… it was baffling.
 
“Perhaps a heavier security is warranted when King Charles and his husband come
for a visit,” Phil mused out loud. Softly uttered ayes confirmed his statement,
and Steve continued.
 
“Lastly, Fujikawa’s naval fleet is unparalleled, and they lie directly between
us and Khan,” Steve pointed to the archipelago of Fujikawa just to the right of
Khan and a fair distance away from Stark. It was small—not even a quarter of
the size of either Stark or Khan—and broken, which explained why they invested
heavily in their navy. Khan, like Stark, was practically landlocked which is
why they focused more on their terrestrial armies. Keep them off the ground and
Fujikawa would stand a chance of driving them off and keeping them away. “If we
draw up an alliance with them, maybe trade with them and supply weapons, we
could gain their aid in decreasing Khan’s army before they hit our shores.”
When he had finished, Tony glanced around the room at the faces of his advisors
and saw approval on each one, albeit grudging on Nick’s.
 
“Thank you, Sir Steven,” Peggy said on behalf of all others. She also had a
look of pride on her face. “It is a sound plan, your majesty. We can ready our
ambassadors to Xavier and Fujikawa at your behest, and of course, discuss this
with Prince Thor immediately.” Tony nodded.
 
“I will write the letters myself; they can leave in the morning, and prepare a
small banquet for the prince and my father’s study for afterwards,” he said. “I
also want spies sent out as soon as possible to gather information about our
nobles as well as kingdoms we haven’t discussed. We need to know what they’re
thinking of this transition in case we need to prepare against them too.” They
nodded in agreement. “Good. Thank you,” Tony finished. “I will be in my room if
anyone should need me.” Each one of them bowed deeply in acknowledgement, so
Tony turned on his heel and started toward the door.
 
The metal of Steve’s armor clattered softly as he followed, holding open the
doors for him. On the other side, Tony’s entire guard stood in line, leaving
space for him in the middle. It was more excessive than he was used to within
the castle walls, but understandable considering the circumstances, so he bore
it gracefully and allowed them to escort him to his room, only making sure that
Steve joined him.
 
“Thank you, James,” Tony said, more softly than he intended. Rhodey only bowed
deeply in acknowledgement and shut the doors behind him and Steve.
 
For a long moment, Tony said or did nothing, only staring at the floor while
thoughts that he couldn’t quite pin down flitted through his mind. He could
vaguely hear the clatter of Steve’s armor as it was shed, but his eyes were
slowly blurring, so he paid it no mind. And then Steve’s arms slowly wound
their way around his shoulders and drew him into the knight’s chest.
 
“I’m sorry,” Steve whispered. A sudden sob escaped Tony. Almost in surprise, he
slapped both hands over his mouth to muffle himself, but another sob escaped
him, and then another and another, and then his legs were folding beneath him,
and both of them were falling to the floor. “I’m here. I’m sorry. It’s all
right. It’s going to be all right,” Steve whispered as he turned Tony around
and tugged him onto his lap. His words were a source of comfort
 
There, he cried out every ounce of desolation, of fear, of despair he felt.
 
...............
 
Steve was summoned to Nick's officer later that day, and there was little doubt
as to what this was about—Nick's attitude towards him in the meeting earlier
made that clear enough. With that in mind, he steeled himself and kept caution
in mind. He knocked.


"Come in," came the gruff command. Steve obeyed to find Peggy, Phil and Maria
poring over the maps on the desk.


"Good evening, Commander," Steve greeted with a perfunctory salute that Nick
didn't bother acknowledging. In fact the officer didn't bother looking his way
at all.


"You will be deployed with a group of men to the western Khan borders. You
shall lead that group to monitor military activity, warn us of an impending
attack, and provide the first line of defense," Nick said easily, without pause
or hesitation, and Steve had to struggle and hold back a balk of shock.


"Why?" he asked instead and winced when he did. Nick looked up and narrowed his
good eye at him.


"Stupid question from an otherwise sensible soldier," he answered. His tone was
testy and tried, making the hair on the back of Steve's neck stand at
attention. "Then again, most of your actions in our absence have followed the
same line of thought, have they not?"


"I did what was best for—"


"Do not feed me that idiocy!" Nick yelled. Steve tensed. "You deliberately
disobeyed a direct command from not one, but two of your superior officers, you
put his majesty in direct line of danger with your failure to report Stane, and
you planned to remove his majesty from his station!" Steve knew saying anything
would dig himself into a deeper hole, particularly because he was right. "You
deserve to be hung for treason, Rogers," Nick added. "But his majesty would
never allow it, and even I can recognize the value of your skills and strategic
intelligence. So: Khan borders." He turned his back to Steve who clenched his
fists to hold back emotions he couldn't identify.


"I think his majesty would have something to say about my deployment," he said.
That forced Nick to turn to him again.


"Which is why he shall not be informed of this until you have left. Not all of
our decisions need to be approved my his majesty; otherwise, he wouldn’t be
able to get anything done." Steve wanted to yell protests at him. Nick's eye
narrowed in a challenge as he sensed that. "Why do you cling to him, Sir
Steven? Surely, you must have known he cannot be yours for long. He is no
longer a mere prince, but a king who must sacrifice his wants for the good of
the kingdom, and your relationship with him does not qualify as such." Steve
swallowed.


That… That hurt because he knew Nick was right. Save for that brief moment of
hope that Obadiah managed to quash, he never held any illusions that Tony could
be his for good. He always knew that one day, Tony was going to have to choose
the kingdom over him—that day just came earlier than they had hoped.


Nick seemed satisfied with his silence because he said, "You and your team will
be leaving in two days' time. Among them will be Barton, Romanoff, and Barnes.
Banner will serve as your medic." Steve knew it was punishment for them as well
for having assisted. He felt conflicted about it, though; on one hand, he was
thankful to have his friends with him in his exile. On the other, it was exile
to them as well and a sure kill to their careers.
 
"Dismissed," Nick interrupted his thoughts when he hadn't made a word of
acknowledgment towards what Nick had said. 


He left without further word (and a standard salute), but only because his
thoughts were consumed by concern and indignance and sadness.
 
He wanted Tony—needed him like he needed the blood running through his veins,
and he had little doubt that Tony felt the same way, but was he what the
kingdom needed? 


The kingdom needed a queen or prince consort who knew how to work politics, who
would inspire confidence, who would be able to help forge alliances, draw up
treaties, and entertain visiting dignitaries. Nothing about him, a commoner-
born, low ranking knight, said any of that.


Steve bit his lip and then went off in search of Bucky and the others.
 
...............
 
"Stupid," Natasha snapped at him, and honestly, he had never seen her quite so
furious before. That single word, spoken after Steve's incredibly long,
incredibly detailed, and incredibly heartfelt speech about how they were going
on a noble and important reconnaissance mission for the kingdom, was quickly
followed up with a stream of Shostakovan words that Steve was pretty sure were
invectives. Clint looked half amused at Natasha's temper and half concerned for
Steve. Bucky, and Bruce were merely concerned.


"It is what is deemed best for the kingdom, Natasha," Steve answered, and it
was the absolute truth, but it was something he couldn’t accept, so he couldn't
meet her eyes. He was more than a little convinced that Natasha was omnipotent,
and the way he could feel her glare boring holes into his head proved it so. He
wasn’t about to hand her ammunition and convince him to act contrary to what
was best for Tony.


"Bullshit," she snapped once more. "You allowed Sir Nicholas into your head.
You let him poison your mind." Steve didn't deny it. "He has no right to decide
what is best for the people, Steven—"


"I think he quite certainly does, Natasha. Head of the royal guard and all
that," Steve answered, testy as Natasha gave him hope he couldn't bear to have.


"He isn't king, he doesn't have the king's power, no matter what he likes to
think," she countered. "Tell his majesty. He would overturn Fury in an
instant."


"And then what? Anthony and I live happily ever after?" he scoffed, making
Natasha adopt an affronted look. The slight tremor of nervousness he felt shoot
through him at her look told him he shouldn't try to piss her off, but he
ignored the inkling and persevered in trying to get his point across. "This is
no fairytale, Lady Natasha. We do not get what we want. He has a duty toward
the people; he has a duty to give them what is best for them. Tell me, tell me
that marrying me, a common-born knight, is far better for the kingdom than
marrying, say, Princess Rumiko of Fujikawa? She who is well versed in politics
and etiquette and culture, she who can bring an important alliance in the face
of Khan's threat, she who can gain more important alliances from her own allies
and friends?" Natasha could lie as well as the best of them, but Steve would
know, without a single shred of doubt, that if she contradicted him, she would
be.


"And what of his majesty?" Natasha asked instead. "Is his happiness not
important for the good of the kingdom? Is his happiness not important for you?"
It was to him—oh God, how it was. If he could do everything in his power to put
a smile on Tony's face everyday for the rest of their lives, he would, but in
the grand scheme of things, he knew that Tony didn't need to be happy to be an
effective ruler. No, his happiness wasn't important to the kingdom.
 
He didn't answer her, so she turned thoughtful. 


"I think this isn't about the kingdom at all," she mused easily, casually. She
turned toward the others for confirmation, but none of them reflected back to
her the casualness she was trying to feign. She turned back to Steve who did
his best to not punch her—partly because she was a lady (she could take it;
he'd seen her take punches before, but that still didn't make it polite), but
mostly because she was his friend. As she spoke, though, he struggled with that
decision even more. "I think this is because you're afraid of him rejecting
you, that he'll agree to what Fury says. You're afraid that he'll choose duty
over happiness—" 


Steve snapped.


"HE WILL!" he yelled, lashing an arm out and punching the wall. Hard. Pain shot
through his arm, but he barely noticed it beyond the startling clarity and
focus it gave him. "He will, and I don't want to make it any harder for him
than it has to be," he snarled. Natasha pressed her lips together, so Steve
drew in a deep calming breath. It wouldn't do him well to further antagonize
his friends and comrades. "Look, I'm sorry that you had to be dragged into
this. I'm sorry that your careers are ruined because—because of me… But it's
over for us. We never should have started this to begin with, and I'm going to
have to deal with the repercussions of having made it so." He stood and
shouldered past Bruce who stood at the doorway of Bucky's room. He paused once
when he stood in the hallway.


"We're leaving at noontime in two days. Get yourselves ready," he told them and
waited for no further answer.
 
...............
 
“Am I interrupting?” came a pleasantly deep voice from the study’s doorway. It
wasn’t the pleasantly deep voice Tony wanted to hear, though, so he was half
tempted to tell it to fuck off. But then that would have been terribly impolite
and possibly dangerous for him and his kingdom because it was Prince Thor who
was speaking, and in light of his assistance and kindness, Tony figured he
should return the courtesy.
 
“No. No, my lord. Please do join me,” he gestured to one of the chairs while
simultaneously returning his father’s notes to where he found them. They
weren’t making any sense to him anyway, not when his mind was so preoccupied
with another matter entirely.
 
“I have expressed my condolences yesterday, but please do accept them once
more,” Thor said, settling down in the chair to Tony’s right. He shifted the
heavy robes Tony had given him to settle in more comfortably in the chair. They
weren’t the right size (smaller than had to be comfortable, but there weren’t
many spare pieces of clothing in Thor’s size) or his style (Asgardians tended
to favor practical, fitted attire that could easily accommodate armor, as
opposed to the nobility of Stark that tended to favor flowing, overly
embroidered robes), but the crown prince bore such discomforts graciously. The
king managed a weak smile in response to his words.
 
“And as I have said last night, I am grateful for your assistance and your
sympathy,” he answered, but elaborated no further. He glanced out of the window
knowing it opened into the courtyard below where servants and soldiers were
running around, preparing for the deployment of their intelligence group to
Khan—the same group that Steve would be leading. It was an important and
necessary task, and Tony couldn’t have prevented it even if he wanted to, but
Steve’s inclusion in it—and Natasha’s and Clint’s and Barnes’s and Bruce’s—only
left him feeling bereft.
 
Clint and Natasha had approached him last night and told him about it. They
told him that they had tried to get Steve to talk to him, but the knight
wouldn’t budge, convinced as he was that he was a hindrance to the kingdom, so
they took matters into their own hands. Predictably, Tony sought Sir Nicholas
out to demand answers, and the commander didn’t deny a single statement.
 
“You are king now, Anthony,” Nick has said; he hadn’t looked particularly
worried. “But just because you are does not invalidate the reasons your father
had in wanting any marriage with you to bring political gain. He knew what was
best for all of us, and he worked for that goal—this is one thing he had
foreseen would lead to that. That you would be unhappy, that you would not have
the life you want, that your relationship with him would be tainted with
resentment and distance was a risk he was willing to take for the good of the
kingdom.” Nick drew himself up and left Tony feeling little before him. “His
goal is my goal, and it is my duty to see to its fulfillment. Your father was a
wise man, and his actions and decisions necessary. His methods have become my
own, and if he believed that keeping Sir Steven away from you must be done,
then I shall carry it out even in the event of his death. Overturn me if you
want, your majesty, but bear in mind the consequences of doing so. You are king
now, and the needs of the people supersede your own.”
 
Tony bit his lip as he considered that because Sir Nicholas was right, and
keeping Steve here while knowing that they could never be together was going to
be nothing short of torture for both of them.
 
“May I intrude on your thoughts?” Thor asked. It was odd to hear such
gentleness from a man who dwarfed Tony by at least a foot in height and one
hundred pounds in sheer muscle mass. The Asgardians were fierce warriors, like
Steve had said, and Thor was the best of them all. So to hear that tone from
him and to see a wisdom in his eyes that Tony couldn’t hope to match in the
near future, it was disconcerting. He outranked Thor now, but after thirty
years of being trained to take over the throne compared to Tony’s sixteen, Thor
was more experienced, more well-versed in being a true ruler than Tony was.
 
“I just…” Tony heaved a sigh and looked down at his hands. “I have all the
answers to all my questions, and yet I find myself looking for different ones.”
 
“Or maybe you simply are not asking the right questions,” Thor suggested. Tony
looked up at him, frowned, thought for a moment, and then spoke.
 
“Can I be happy and be a good ruler at the same time?” he tried. Thor smiled
and nodded, but Tony only frowned further. “Can I marry for love and not be
thought selfish?” Thor’s smile turned gentle at the edges, but without
hesitation, he nodded once more.
 
“Your father was a very wise man who my father often sought out for advice,” he
started to explain. “But he was also very pragmatic, often at the expense of
his happiness and that of the people he loved and who loved him. I understand
why he believed that you must sacrifice your wants for the good of the people:
political alliances through marriage are easy and often very strong. And as a
young king, an experienced spouse will help you greatly.” Once again, Tony was
reminded how not ready he was for all of this. “But, Anthony, they are not
infallible, and they are not the only way to forge alliances. Your father
married your mother for that reason, and it has been a noble and successful
union, but many others have had an equally successful union even having married
out of love: my father and mother, for one, King Charles and his spouse,
another. Contessa Valentina of Fontaine and King T’Challa of Wakanda have also
been known to have wed their true loves, and yet all of us enjoy successful and
peaceful lands and have the immediate support of our allies.” Thor placed his
hand on Tony’s arm.
 
“Understand that you will always have Asgard’s support, Anthony, and with our
support, you will also have that of our allies. I do not boast in saying that
this support is something to be scoffed at, so fear not marrying the person you
love; to the best of our capacity, we will assist you in your kingdom’s
protection,” he assured Tony, and then added, “I, for one, greatly support your
union to Sir Steven.” Tony’s attention snapped to him, and he blinked in
confusion which made Thor laugh heartily. “Did you think I would not know? It
would have taken a fool greater than I to fail to see the love you hold for
each other.” He winked outrageously, which made Tony grin.
 
“I’ve never thought you a fool, Prince Thor,” he said. Thor patted his arm as
he laughed.
 
“I would be happy if you managed to convince my brother of that.” They shared a
laugh that flooded Tony with relief and happiness… and hope.
 
...............
 
The throne room was lit up and decorated grandly, as though a ball was just
about to begin. The chandeliers glowed with light and garlands of flowers hung
from every surface. The carpet ran from the door to the foot of the throne’s
platform. Everything was polished to sparkling perfection.
 
And yet the room was empty, save for one.


Steve found Tony draped insouciantly, irreverently over the throne, one leg
hanging over the arm and swinging casually. He was wearing his best clothes,
and his favorite crown was on his head, tilted to one side to further the
insouciant aura. 


Normally, Steve would have had to hide his grin at the display of mocking
humor—Tony always said that when he was going to take over, he would do so with
style, and had several times demonstrated in good humor just how he intended to
do so. Now, though, there was only a somberness brought about by the enormity
of the situation that this was no longer a mere demonstration.


He marched down the carpet from the door to the foot of the throne with the
dignity and respect expected of a knight in the presence of the king, even if
there was no one to appreciate it. He had on his full military regalia, armor
and all, that was a response to the threat brought about by the sudden change
in monarchy—they had to be ready for any potential attack at any point in time
from those who though the change would bring discord to Stark. In fact, he had
been at a briefing for their deployment to the borders fronting Khan when he
had been called for.


As he neared the throne, he fell to one knee and bowed his head. "Your
majesty," was his perfunctory greeting. And for a moment more, neither of them
said anything. Then he felt Tony shift in his seat and stand.


"Two days ago, you called me 'Tony,'" he said, voice serious and neutral.
"Today, 'your majesty.'" Steve held his position, having nothing to say to
that.


Two days ago, Tony was his darling prince, the apple of his eye, his spoiled
little lover. Two days ago, he was young and joyful and carefree. Two days ago,
he was Steve's. 


Today, Tony belonged to the kingdom, and Steve didn't know where he fit in with
that.
 
"Do you resent that we're no longer following through with our plans?" Tony
asked. Steve's head snapped up at that. He had to straighten up a bit to meet
Tony's eyes who stood on the raised dais. The brown eyes were hard, and
serious… and hurt.


"No, your majesty. Of course not."
 
"Are you fearful of the repercussions of being with me?"


"I would not have accepted our relationship if I had been."


"Then are you repulsed by my new status?" Steve blinked in surprise.


"There is nothing—nothing—you can do that I will be repulsed by. And especially
not by something you cannot control," he answered firmly. And it was the truth.


"Then why are you acting like you don't even know me?!" There was a whine in
Tony's exclamation that was worlds away from petulant. It was so far from
petulant that it drove guilt like a spike through Steve's heart. He winced and
dropped his eyes.


"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry, Anthony, I—" The king fell to his knees in
front of Steve and halted any more words. He took Steve's face in his hands and
tilted it up, and then before Steve could say anything more, Tony kissed him.


He kissed Steve like it was both the first and the last time he would ever do
so. He kissed Steve with the desperation of a dying man. He kissed Steve to
convince him that everything—everything—was going to change. Everything, except
this.


"I love you," Tony very nearly sobbed into his mouth, clinging to him tightly.
Another bout of guilt lanced through him, so Steve dragged him into another
kiss full of apology and promise and reassurance. "I love you, Steve. Please
don't leave me," Tony begged, his voice tight and small, and Steve wanted to
punch himself.


"Never, Tony," he whispered back fiercely. He pulled Tony onto his lap and
peppered his face with kisses. "I'll never leave you. I never intended to do
so." He kissed Tony full and hard on the mouth. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for
making you worry. I just—I didn't know where I fit in. I didn't want to
distract you from what you needed to do, and I'm sorry, darling." Tony buried
his face in Steve's chest, and at that moment, Steve remembered that he was so
very, very young and such a great burden had suddenly been thrust upon his
shoulders. He tightened his hold around Tony’s shoulders and kissed the top of
his head, and then he knew. He knew that this was where he fit in, this was
where he needed to be. Right here, wrapped around his king.
 
“Stay with me, Steve,” Tony murmured. He sounded stronger now, and Steve was
glad for it.
 
“Of course I will. You needn’t have asked,” he answered, kissing Tony’s head
again. The king stiffened in his arms, though, which made Steve confused.
 
“No,” Tony said. “No, I meant… stay. Stay with me.” Steve blinked to which Tony
frowned and sat up. He pulled Steve toward him and kissed him long and hard,
and when he pulled away, he drew in a deep breath. “I realize this isn’t the
best way to—and I’m sorry I nearly cried over you, but I promise I had a whole
speech prepared, and—” He gestured around the room “—the throne room done up,
so that I could ask. And I—but then I saw you and I forgot it all.” His speech
was a collection of halted words and vague gestures that only confused Steve
more than enlightened him.
 
“What?” he tried again. Tony let out a sharp breath that fluttered his hair.
 
“What I’m trying to say,” he said. The annoyance in his tone was clearly
directed at himself. He took in another deep breath. “Is… Steve, will… will you
marry me?” Steve blinked. Once. Twice. And then again.
 
“…What?” was his intelligent question. Tony huffed.
 
“I said—”
 
“No, no, I heard you,” Steve interrupted, but he needed a moment to process the
question. He blinked again.
 
“I can give you a moment,” Tony said, inching away, but Steve grabbed him and
pulled him back into his arms. He didn’t need a moment. He didn’t need a
thousand moments. He wrapped a hand around the back of Tony’s neck and kissed
him with every single ounce of passion he could muster, and pulled back only
enough to whisper his answer against Tony’s lips.
 
“Yes.”
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