#*meanwhile my ravenous breeding kink exists*

[filthy-kaoss]

1950's au where tony came back from a six months war and he is reunited with his husband, peter find out is six months pregnant.

i took the liberty of making it medieval instead, hope ya don't mind anon c;

listen to aftermath to set the mood

Anthony's exhaustion was marrow deep by the time his journey's end approached. He was drained, barely able to hold himself as one should when leading a convoy. He longed for home.

The war had been short, as far as wars went. No force could hope to stand against his machine-craft. The neighboring kingdom had aggressed on Stark lands, attacked his people, incited his wrath. The opposing force had been quickly decimated, yet spat on all offers of mercy. The price of such hubris was destruction, if only to ensure no one would dare such ventures again. For six grueling months, The Blacksmith-King razed his enemies' lands to nothing, conquered all resistance. Left devastation and death in his wake.

There was victory, but two hundred days of ceaseless carnage weighed heavy on the mind. Upon King Anthony's return to the capital, there was still more work to be done.

Hundreds of refugees, their kingdom now destroyed, had been escorted to safety in his army's tow. Anthony entrusted them to Pepper's steadfast stewardship, to house them and give them the choice of being naturalized. General Rhodes was to see to the needs of the soldiers and then to rest himself. A hunting party was sent out and Chef Hogan instructed to prepare a feast for refugees and soldiers alike.

Once the kingdom was in order, Anthony made his retreat. He spared no thought for food or rest or bath. He rode immediately out to his ironworks, a hidden hold, well guarded by his spymaster for the priceless treasure within.

His spymaster, ever watchful Widow, saw his approach, spread the word and opened the gate.

Anthony was dismounting before his horse had even finished skidding to a halt inside the gate. The Blacksmith-King made for the heavy wood doors, carelessly shedding his crown, his hammer, and his sword at long last. The doors opened abruptly as he neared, cast open wide, and at last he was face to face with his beloved prince.

"Tony." the boy breathed.

Both breathing harshly from their haste to reunite, they drank in the sight of each other: water after six months in a desert.

Peter took in the sight of his king, his armor battered and spattered with long dried blood, but intact. Whole. Safe. He was home.

Tony's entire world shifted at the sight of Peter dressed in soft silks with a hand to his round belly and watery eyes that spoke all.

In that instant, everything else in the world ceased to be. Tony fell to his knees, greaves clanking on the masonry. He reached out, gauntlets hovering over Peter's belly in reverence, in awe, almost scared to touch. Finally his hands settled at Peter's waist, either side of the bulge, holding ever so gently. He put his forehead to Peter's belly, to their child. Their child!

He looked up at Peter, tears of joy spilling from both their eyes. Tony turned to put his ear to Peter's belly and Peter put his other hand in Tony's hair, cradled his head there.

One of Tony's hands shifted, pressing to the small of Peter's back.

He could hear it, ever so faint, a tiny heartbeat, pulsing young, quick. Alive.

He looked up at his prince once again, weeping, overwhelmed.

"Welcome home, my love."