#Dr. stephen strange/reader

[mothernerd]

blood 16 - the end - Strange/Stark!Reader

Relationship: Dr. Strange/Princess!Stark!Reader

Rating: M

Warnings: Adult Themes, smut, adult language, implied sexual violence, general violence

Synopsis: Reader is the daughter of the legendary King Anthony Stark, Uniter of Lands, The Iron Defender, and leader of the realm. When the king disappears during battle, hope is lost and he is presumed dead.

When the late king’s uncle, Obadiah, takes the throne until your brother Peter is of age, he quickly arranges a marriage for you with a wicked king in a neighboring kingdom.

With the realms politics in question, and rumors of an upcoming siege to overthrow Peter’s rule before it starts, you quickly learn who is loyal to the crown and who is not.

part 15

Masterlist

Chapter Playlist

16- an epilogue

The day of the wedding was rainy and cold.

“I’ve heard that’s good luck,” your father commented, entering the bridal chamber and nodding toward the downpour outside. You were finishing your final preparations for the ceremony, a maid tying the last braid in your hair.

“It was sunny the day of your funeral,” you noted lightly, watching him through the reflection in the floor-length mirror. He excused the maids and took the veil from one of the women, moving toward you and staring into the mirror over your shoulder. “Maybe there’s a little truth to it.”

You hardly recognized yourself. The dress having been picked by Pepper and Frigga after interviewing nearly a dozen seamstresses from across the two kingdoms. You’d insisted on them not needing to fret about it, but the mother figures were too caught up in the excitement.

So, you let them have their fun.

And really, it wasn’t what you actually cared about that day. Your priorities were waiting in a temple on the outskirts of the village in, what you hoped, was a formal set of navy robes that you fancied.

“You look so grown up,” he murmured, hand clasping the veil into place on the back of your hair. “I wish your mother could have been here.”

“I hope I have far more interesting days than just a wedding,” you teased, earning a chuckle from the older man. His eyes fell on the intricate golden runes painted on your forearms, a small sigh his only thought on the matter.

It was a middle ground from the cumbersome necklace that Loki and Stephen came up with the week before the nuptials. You’d gotten a little more control over your powers, and so, such drastic seals weren’t necessary.

“You’ve already done so many incredible things,” he replied, helping you turn in the massive dress and guide you off the small platform in the middle of the room. “I can’t begin to imagine what the future holds for you."

It was enough reassurance that you needed that today, at least, was going to be a good day. Things were looking up and even if trouble showed its head down the line, you know everything would work out the way it needed to.

Tony cleared his throat, snapping you from your thoughts, offering an arm to walk you through the room.

“Are you sure about all of this?” your dad asked, again. “Peter can stop this with a single declaration. Say the word.”

“You’re just upset we’re going to Asgard for the year,” you countered, squeezing his hands. “I’ll visit as often as I can. You know it’s more diplomatic than a true honeymoon.”

“I’m going to miss you,” he confessed. “And I know you’ve got your wifely duties but just- don’t forget about home.”

“I might be a little distracted those first few weeks,” you smirked back at him.

“I knew it was a bad idea bringing him to the castle,” he mumbled, sighing in defeat. “Should have known he would woo my poor impressionable daughter. It’s the blue eyes, isn’t it?”

“Impressionable?”

“No, you’re absolutely right, you were the bad influence on my castle Master,” he clarified, earning a laugh while he helped you toward the door of the bridal chamber. “Stealing him away with your beauty and brilliance. It was a doomed situation from the start. I’ll keep that in mind for Morgan…”

A bell in the distance indicated it was time. And suddenly everything felt like it was happening so fast like you didn’t have enough time to truly appreciate this small moment with your father.

“I’m glad you’re here,” you stated, taking a breath to settle the nerves now fluttering in your stomach.

“I love you, you know I wouldn’t have missed this for anything,” you could hear his voice catch with the words. When he pulled away, you could see the edges of his eyes brimming with tears.

“Thank the Gods Morgan is still little. I don’t know if my heart could handle another day like this.”

“Stephen still has obligations with the crown,” you reminded him gently. “We’re going to be staying here when we return from Asgard. Things are hardly going to change.”

“My sweet girl,” he sighed and shook his head while seidr ignited from your fingertips. “Everything has changed.”

(—)

The wedding was an event to behold.

Peter spared no expense and between the noble guests, villagers, and sorcerers from Kamar-Taj, the energy was intoxicating.

And exhausting.

The ceremony went without a hitch, with Wong conducting the final vows alongside one of the priests of the temple- Magic users had their own special ceremonies that merged the energy of the couple and it was a temperamental process.

Crowds of cheering friends and family erupted when he placed that first kiss on your lips, but you couldn’t hear a thing.

The feast and celebrations were to last a few days, and the first night was a blur of drinks and savory foods, it was a wonder you didn’t stain your wedding dress (though Frigga later confessed to having enchanted the garment from spills and stains. A lesson, she explained, she’d learned from her own wedding day).

You danced with Stephen, Peter, and your father, Loki, James, Thor, Natalia, Frigga, Wanda, and numerous others until your feet were swollen and your body ached.

Eventually, Stephen stole you away to the balcony of the ballroom, the night pitch black and the subtle scent of spring flowers floated through the air from the lingering dampness after a day of rain.

It’d been nearly a year since you’d “buried” your father.

And he’d been right, everything had changed.

“And what does my sweet bride think of so seriously on her wedding day?” Stephen teased, plucking you from your happy daze.

“Wedding night,” you clarified cheekily, a bit of color erupting in his cheeks at the implication.

“Shall we steal away then, my love?” he challenged in return. “I do have quite the evening planned.”

You hummed in consideration, arm looping through and fingers slipping between his. The air was just cool enough to be comfortable, the creatures of the night chirping and howling almost in perfect tandem with your heartbeat.

“There’s plenty of night left,” you reasoned softly. “And plenty of time after that. We only get one now.”

You wanted to etch the moment in your memories for the rest of your life. The way the moon hit his cheeks, the soft circles he drew on your knuckles, the adrenaline from the party a few feet away, everything.

“So you were serious when you said forever,” he asked playfully.

“I certainly hope you were too,” you tapped the tip of his nose with a grin. “Because it’s a little late to back out now.”

“I was very serious,” he insisted quickly. “You’re stuck with me.”

“Then you’ve fallen into the final stages of my plot,” you hummed, spinning to face him more directly.

“And when, pray tell, did you begin to plot?”

“The day I saw that grumpy boy in the woods, refusing to accept that his book was wrong.”

“That’s a long time,” he mused.

“I’d say it was worth it.”

“And I’d have to agree, my princess.”

(—)

There were never any absolutes in life. Time passed and eventually, you buried your father and mother. Wong was slain by Mordo in a dispute that nearly a hundred years later, still lingered between the kingdoms.

War, ever inevitable by the inconsistent nature of mankind, sprung up and you supported your younger brother as much as you could through the trials that nearly consumed your people.

Peter was a remarkable king, who later married a remarkable Lady Michelle, turning her into a remarkable queen. He was remembered in history as ‘King Peter the Lion-heart’. The couple had only one child, a chubby baby girl who grew up to fight for her own crown in a structure that traditionally favored the male heir. She led the kingdom through one of the most destructive wars since your grandfather’s reign and died an old woman with nearly a dozen grandchildren.

Your own children served the crown and the kingdom with honor and dignity. Your youngest daughter eventually left to train at Kamar-Taj and your eldest son took on the duties of House Strange. Your middle child, a boy who looked a lot like his father and inherited Stephen’s proclivity for stubbornness and your seidr, later served as the Master to your niece’s reign.

The magic that permeated your blood and lineage extended your life a little longer than the rest of your family (and you were certain the bond you shared with Stephen also amplified this trait in him as well).

Morgan later showed an impressive aptitude for magic and trained under Wanda until the latter was confident the young princess could handle her own. The young princess would outlive everyone, in the end, surpassing your own extended lineage by nearly fifteen years.

Ironically, the Starks did secure a marriage with the Odinson crown. Thor and Sif’s son fell hard for Morgan’s eldest daughter and the union was celebrated for nearly a month at the kingdom’s border. They say it was nearly three months after that the last person finally sobered up from the occasion.

Before the end of Stephen’s life (a mere six months before your own) the two of you had cultivated an impressive collection of seidr relics and history that was used for generations to come. As it was, your son would figure out how to awaken the seidr potential in those with Vanir lineages, and the magic was pulled back from near extinction within a few generations.

Loki married a lady from Asgard who proved to be just as mischievous and talented as the prince. She had a knife-like smile and a tendency to pull you into her plots when toying with the prince. She died young, in the same battle that nearly killed Thor, but she died protecting her husband from an attacker's blade- she left behind a fussy little girl with her same smile and Loki’s eyes.

Natalia and James never had any children of their own, instead, taking in a handful of orphans they’d met in the village over the years. No one spoke of whether it was a biological issue or a personal choice, but you’d seen Natalia with a bottle of pregnancy control elixirs on a few occasions and quietly respected whatever choice she made.

By the time you’d died, their family was nearly four generations thick and thriving at the estate that had been gifted to your friends for saving the crown.

Near the end of your life, Stephen asked you once if you were still happy after nearly a century of marriage.

Your response?

“I did say forever, didn’t I?”

The End

(--)

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(--)

THANK YOU ALL for your support and patience while I worked on this story! Every single comment, like, reblog, etc. seriously meant the world to me as I wrote this. THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCH.

[mothernerd]

blood 4 - Strange/Stark!Reader

Relationship: Dr. Strange/Princess!Stark!Reader

Rating: M

Warnings: Adult Themes, eventual smut, adult language, implied sexual violence, general violence

Synopsis: Reader is the daughter of the legendary King Anthony Stark, Uniter of Lands, The Iron Defender, and leader of the realm. When the king disappears during battle, hope is lost and he is presumed dead.

When the late king’s uncle, Obadiah, takes the throne until your brother Peter is of age, he quickly arranges a marriage for you with a wicked king in a neighboring kingdom.

With the realms politics in question, and rumors of an upcoming siege to overthrow Peter’s rule before it starts, you quickly learn who is loyal to the crown and who is not.

part 3 - part 5

Masterlist

Chapter Playlist

4 - a reign

It was the middle of the night by the time Stephen returned to the observatory. He’d only meant to stop for a few minutes to grab a book Wong had asked for, before retreating to his quarters for some much needed sleep. 

That was, until he saw you sleeping soundly, sprawled over the cot he kept in the corner for those late nights he spent tinkering with spells and potions. A book on the mystic properties of herbs was open on your chest, lifting and falling with each gentle breath you took. 

By Vishanti, you looked so peaceful, a far cry from how you’d held yourself since the funeral. His chest gave a throb when you shifted slightly, snuggling deeper into the pillow under your head, a small shiver that made him wish more than anything to crawl in next to you and cradle your form in his arms. 

It was almost unbearable sometimes. 

He had his vows and duties, his status as a council to the king, your tutor, and a protector of the castle, while you were the eldest princess of this important kingdom. 

Though he’d been born of decent lineage, there wasn’t a world where he could feasibly see a long term future by your side. 

Instead, he settled on what he could have for now. Stephen would cherish these moments until some prince (probably Loki, as much as the thought disgusted him), whisked you out of his reach. 

“You’re thinking too loudly,” you voiced, opening your eyes and shifting the book off of your chest with a sleepy blink.  

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he explained, lifting the book he’d come for off a nearby table. “Wong needed a reference for shields at the border.”

You stretched your shoulders, slowly rising and sitting at the edge of the cot. You were still wearing your gown from dinner, suggesting you’d been reading there for quite some time. 

“How was the council meeting?” you asked.

He made a noise of disgust, crossing his arms and dropping into a nearby seat by the fire.

“Dreadful,” he confided in her. “I’m not sure where I can draw the line at my ethics as a sorcerer and stating clearly that this man is a maniac.”

Your expression darkened at his words. 

“What is he proposing?” 

“He wants to invite Rumlow to the castle to discuss a peace treaty during the coronation celebrations,” he explained, pinching the bridge of his noise. “No matter how many times Steve, Wong, and myself went over why that was a dangerous and reckless idea, he would remind us who is king. I thought perhaps he’d be more amendable to reason, but I was wrong.”

Listening intently, you looked down at your lap. Something else was on your mind and Stephen was afraid his words had confirmed some unspoken fear within you. 

“Peter was right not to trust him then,” you stated with a glance up at him. “Why would he bring that monster within these walls? To stand him where our father once stood?” 

That was the question Stephen kept asking himself while the other councilors and the king argued around in circles. What benefit did Obadiah get from such a conversation with King Brock? Perhaps it would yield some answers, but not any they couldn’t get from a more secluded, neutral location. 

“Was a final decision made?” you pressed when he fell silent. 

“Not yet,” he heard you let out a breath of relief. “We’re adjourned until tomorrow afternoon.”

“The ball is tomorrow night,” you jumped on the same point he’d made when Obadiah had dismissed the councilors. 

“Rumlow has a new Master Sorcerer at his castle,” Stephen grunted. “A lot of changes for a kingdom that pleaded innocence during our first inquiry into your father’s death.”

“What happened to Mordo?”

“No one knows,” Stephen sighed. It was the very reason he’d returned to Kamar-Taj. After news of Master Mordo’s replacement with the Enchantress from Asgard, rumors had circulated and a number of masters had approached him confessing they were nervous about what that meant. 

It wasn’t unusual to change Masters within a castle. Your father had done it enough after quite a few had resigned or been scared off by your ferocity before he’d arrived.

The problem was that the Enchantress had a reputation of her own, having been exiled of her homeland and banished from Kamar-Taj for abusing dark magic. Appointing her to such an important and influential role within a kingdom was beyond concerning, it was downright dangerous. 

It would be impossible to tell where Rumlow’s own ideas converged with Amora’s mystic control. He knew Mordo, while flawed, still had the good sense to provide sound council. From the beginning, Stephen had a feeling that the sorcerer hadn’t been involved in the invasion and attack on the kingdom that killed your father.

“Now what?” you queried softly.

“We stand on the defensive,” he admitted, taking your hand when he saw it shaking in your lap. Running a thumb over your palm, he met your gaze. You still looked uneasy and he didn’t blame you. This wasn’t a usual transition of power and he feared more deception was hidden under the layers. “This kingdom is resilient, and Peter is strong. Whatever arises, I’m more than confident we can stand against it.”

You pursed your lips, probably about to argue against him, but a quick sweep of his face and you let the issue die. He must have looked terrible to silence you so abruptly. 

“I should probably get back to my quarters,” you reasoned with a murmur, letting him guide you to your feet, hands still connected. The two of you stood silently, his hand wrapped around yours, waiting for the other to make the first move.

And Gods if he wasn’t so exhausted, he would have stood there an eternity.

“I can-,” he cleared his throat, withdrawing his hand and drew up a portal to your room. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw you flex the hand he’d touched before you stepped through, a small smile playing on your lips. 

“Sweetest dreams, Stephen,” you hummed with a small wave goodbye. 

“You too, princess.”

The portal closed and he froze, his heart beating ferociously against his sternum. 

In another life, you could have been his. 

Hell, if your father had returned from battle, there could have been a tiny flicker of hope. 

Tony had trusted him after all, requested him to the castle personally after you’d scared off the previous few Masters. 

There could have been a chance. 

Now? Peter would eventually need to marry you off to secure the future of the kingdom. It was your duty after all, your birth obligation as a female royal. 

You’d carry some other man’s child and, maybe, he would see you from a distance at a ball or royal visit. 

And Stephen would live the rest of his days in solitude. 

His heart aching for the princess just at his fingertips but never allowed to touch.

(—)

Natalia Romanov reasoned herself a fair woman. Sure, she killed for money and ran illicit goods across borders, but she considered herself just and never acted with true malice against the innocent. 

She had a personal set of rules that she held above any amount of gold, and those rules included keeping your name off of her or anyone else’s list of targets. 

Since the two of you had been young girls, only a little older than Princess Morgan now, you’d proven time and again that you were not only a trusted ally, but a dear friend. 

From the first time you caught her trying to steal some apples from the kitchens, you’d ensured her safety until she had been old enough to take care of herself. Even then, you were always more than happy to share your coin, a meal, or a jug of wine with the infamous assassin. 

So, when a threat on your life had been attempted, Natalia had taken that personally. 

The lead from the cook at the pub had been more than enough for her and James to work off of. Within a day they were on the mystery assailant’s trail and by nightfall on the second day, they’d traced him to an inn at the border of your kingdom and Asgard. 

She’d detailed the plan carefully with James earlier in the day. Wait for him to settle into his room for the night, bribe the innkeeper, and steal him away before anyone was the wiser. She had a cottage a few miles into the woods where they could interrogate him and dispose of a body, if needed. 

It was a nearly perfect plan, and Natalia was quite proud of it, until certain unpredictable circumstances had stepped in their way. 

Those circumstances being the younger Asgardian prince, Loki.

“I thought they’d closed the border,” James had grumbled, hood pulled over his face while they surveyed the inn from the street. “What is he doing here?”

“Maybe he fancied a drink?” Natalia joked dryly, watching the dark haired prince try to blend in with the crowd. To the untrained eye, he did quite well, slipping between the villagers as they fussed about, readying themselves for the evening.

Natalia and James, however, spotted him almost immediately. 

“I’ve never been fond of ale,” a voice noted casually over their shoulders. 

James instinctively threw a protective arm over Natalia, a knife spinning up from his fingers menacingly. As if that would be a threat against someone as powerful as the prince.

“I come as a friend,” Loki held up his hands, amusement at their reaction clear on his face. “Though I have to say, the more friends of the princess I meet, the better insight I’ve gained. Did you know she befriended a bard two towns over? How she does that will always be a mystery to me.”

“Scott?” James quirked a brow. “He’s great.”

“Quite the entertainer,” Loki agreed with a nod. “Shall we retreat to somewhere more private?” 

Natalia bobbed her chin toward the inn, and the men followed in suit, taking a seat in the back of the pub inside. She made a point of positioning herself in such a manner that she had full sight of the entrance and exit, ready to intercept the cook if need be. 

“This man you’re after, what do you know of him?” Loki asked, waving a hand and muffling the sounds of the crowd around them. Natalia was sure it was some kind of sound cloaking spell to the surrounding patrons. 

“How do you know we are after him?” Natalia challenged.

“I’ve been following you over the last few days,” he admitted casually. “When I heard of the attack on the princess and saw the sorcerer at the pub, I put two and two together. It wasn’t particularly difficult.”

“You’re supposed to be in Asgard,” James pointed out. “They’ve sealed the borders. It’s been hell trying to move anything around.”

“I am-,” his eyes glowing green. “In a way. The incident with the king was far too intriguing to ignore. Not to mention, there’s now this situation you two have stumbled your way into.”

“We don’t stumble into anything,” James countered sharply, leaning on the table with a glare. 

“You stumbled into the princess’ life and became attached,” he clarified, waving over a barmaid and ordering a jug of wine. “Don’t blame yourselves, it’s nearly impossible to avoid.”

“What do you want?” Natalia cut straight to the point. The man hadn’t come down from his room or tried to leave the inn just yet, but she wasn’t going to miss him because the trickster decided this was how he wanted to amuse himself. 

“To help of course,” he threw a charming smile in her direction. “This man isn’t a mere commoner.”

“Is he also a barkeep?” James guessed sarcastically, but Loki ignored him and continued. 

“He possesses significant magical energy within him,” he explained. “He has hidden it well, it was no wonder the sorcerer couldn’t detect him before. Fortunately, he’s lowering his guard now that he’s further away.”

That was certainly a challenge. Natalia and James had experience bringing in or even killing magic users in the past, but they’d been warned ahead of time. Without being able to prepare the necessary potions and restraints, capturing the elusive assassin would prove difficult. 

The barmaid placed the jug on the table and lit up when Loki pressed a gold coin in her hand. Her words were muffled to Natalia, but Loki seemed to have no trouble communicating with her until she stepped away. 

“As far as anyone is concerned, I’m drinking alone,” he explained. “The assailant has a meeting with someone this evening, I assume regarding the failed attempt on the princess’ life. I propose we follow him and find out who is behind this plot.”

“You think there’s someone else?” Natalia questioned. 

“He’s trying to break up his trail,” Loki stated. “Otherwise his route makes no sense. You did hear a magic user tried to kill the prince as well?”

“No, we hadn’t,” James exchanged a look with Natalia. 

Another complication. 

“I’m not a betting man, but I would wager it’s the same man. The timing between the attacks aligns perfectly.”

“How do you know about the attack on the prince?” Nat asked suspiciously. 

“Now Natalia, would you so willingly divulge your own secrets?” he smirked up at her. “Rest assured, my information is reliable.”

Despite this, Natalia was still suspicious of his intentions. Loki had a reputation for not only acting in his own self interest, but also toying with those in his association for the fun of it. The offer to help almost seemed too good to be true. 

“What do you gain from this?” she asked directly, narrowing her gaze. 

“You were too young to know during the last major war,” he replied quietly. “My people have long lives, and I saw the devastation and misery that brought upon the kingdoms. It is to everyone’s benefit that Prince Peter secures the throne and the royal family remains safe.”

“So you can marry the princess?” James asked stubbornly.

“The thought never crossed my mind.”

“Don’t act like I didn’t see you at the last ball-,” he started but Natalia held up a hand to quiet him. 

“You truly think this will lead to war?” she questioned seriously. 

“My queen mother has foreseen a number of possibilities,” Loki’s expression fell from its usual amusement to something far more somber. “Some happy, but far too many end in grief. It is an added benefit that I can help someone I consider a dear companion.”

“How noble,” James rolled his eyes. 

Natalia considered his explanation. They didn’t have much of a choice, especially if the man was a magic user. If she and James charged in like they’d planned, it would have ended badly. 

Loki, from the stories you’d told her, was a formidable magic wielder himself, having been trained by his mother and studied throughout the realm under the best magic teachers. 

Aside from the concern of betrayal, an issue they could address after they secured the man or his employer, she could see no downside to the alliance.

“Fine,” she stated with a nod. “We will work together until we have a better idea of what this man is capable of.”

(—)

For a kingdom nearing war, Obadiah had made sure his coronation was the grandest event in all the land. 

While it had been planned in haste, the ceremonies had been well decorated, the feasts extravagant and the ball- it was like you’d been transported to another world. 

The ballroom was draped in fresh spring florals, the table dressings matching in freshly pressed and cleaned pastel linens. The entire royal court had apparently found time to go to the seamstresses as almost everyone within sight was sporting some new dress or tunic in matching pastels.

And the masks.

In the spirit of revelry, renewal, and spring, the ball had ended up being a masquerade. The challenge to the guests had been to come up with clever interpretations of the theme. Many ladies and lords sported masks covered in fresh blooms, others used bright colors or exorbitant feathers that shot up in the air. 

Your own outfit had been something relatively conservative compared to the finest dressed of the ladies. You’d elected to pull out a lavender dress that had belonged to your mother and with the help of your maid, Violet (the irony was not lost), sewn violets, springs of lavender, and other color appropriate flowers through a simple silk mask.

All in all, it was a sunning event, even if it was in terrible taste. Though it seemed the esteemed of the land didn’t seem to care that there were villages that didn’t have a crop to prepare that season as they grazed the massive offerings.

You found Peter toward the edge of the ballroom, his hands folded behind his back and speaking with Lady Michelle. 

“Has he been behaving?” you asked the lady, appearing from behind your younger brother. 

“A perfect gentleman, your highness,” she curtsied with a light laugh. “We were just discussing the intricacies of poisons versus venoms. The prince seems to think they’re the same thing.”

“Are they not?” he exclaimed, looking to you for support. “They both kill. A snake can poison you.”

“A snake injects venom, not poison,” you clarified, earning a smirk of approval from the young lady. “You ingest poison, you inject venom.”

“You hang out too much with the sorcerers,” he complained with a scowl. “No normal person knows that.”

“Why, Lady Michelle knew that, is she not normal?” you asked playfully, watching in amusement while the prince tried to apologize profusely to the sniggering woman between you. 

It was almost as if you could look up at the front of the room and expect to see your father whispering something into the queen’s ear to make her blush. 

Instead, Obadiah sat on that throne, laughing at something a visiting Kree ambassador had said, guzzling at a massive goblet of wine. 

“I’ve never seen someone look so miserable at a ball,” Stephen commented, approaching from a conversation with Wong. 

You glanced around you, noticing that Peter and Michelle had stolen off out of sight, leaving you standing and staring around the room, alone. 

“That’s not true,” you chimed back. “Remember the first night we met? I was equally, if not more, miserable then.”

“Was that before or after Thor had trampled on your feet?” he asked, amusement in his eyes. 

“That was well before,” you stated with a chuckle. “I was expecting some stuffy old man. Low and behold I find a sorcerer who actually knew a thing or two about what he was teaching.”

“But am I a stuffy old man?” he challenged wit ha quirked brow. 

“Oh, definitely you are now,” you grinned back, noting the apparel he had chosen for the evening. 

Instead of his usual worn robes, he’d changed into the maroon colors of your house. The robes looked newer, seldom used, an he clearly taken time in picking his belts and other accessories, though his mask looked like it’d been selected at the last minute.

As if reading your thoughts, he thoughtfully touched the simple black mask around his eyes. 

“I borrowed it from Wanda,” he confessed quietly. “I’d nearly forgotten it was a masquerade and by the time I realized, the shops had all closed for the festivities.”

“I think it looks nice,” you assured him, the dark material making the icy blue of his eyes even more impressive in the glowing candle light of the ballroom.

“I’m amazed you found time to craft your own,” he commented, reaching and tussling one of the dangling strands of wisteria. “You do look lovely, by the way.”

Your voice caught in your throat, his expression was so earnest with the compliment. And you didn’t miss the way his hand lingered just close enough to cradle your cheek if you so inclined. 

Heart racing you did you best to regain your composure from the momentary brain hiccup.

“You look very gallant yourself, are those new robes?” you asked. His hand dropped and he flattened out one of the folds in his clothes proudly. 

“New in that they’ve barely been used,” he explained. “I wore them… once at Kamar-Taj and another occasion before coming here.”

“And here I thought you picked our colors on purpose,” you smirked up at him, tugging at his sleeve.

“Maybe I did? Someone has to show a little loyalty around here,” he huffed, catching your hand and pulling you out of the way of a drunken lord stumbling around the room. 

Pressed against him in the corner, your heart raced even faster (a feat you would have thought impossible). Eyes meeting, hands intertwined, his expression softened as he looked down at you. 

There was something about it all; the music, the lighting, the masks and intrigue, that made you want to fill the small gap between you. To see if his lips were truly as soft as they looked.

“Get a room,” Wong complained, breaking the spell. 

You ripped yourself away, remembering you were in public and being caught in such a vulnerable position would have been a scandal in its own. 

“Wong,” Stephen greeted, voice tense from the interruption. 

“The king wishes to see the princess,” the Master reported, obviously annoyed that he’d been reduced to the level of a lowly messenger. 

Exchanging identical looks of confusion, you bowed your head to the men and exceed yourself, moving toward where Obadiah waited at the far end of the room. He was in the middle of eating a massive leg of turkey when he spied you and dropped the food, opening his arms for an embrace.

“My dear, I feel we haven’t had an opportunity to speak since my arrival,” he stood up and pulled you in, his breath smelling of wine and mead. “Let me get a good look at you.”

He lifted your hand and made you give a small twirl, the way his eyes searched up and down your body made your stomach churn. 

“You’ve grown,” he stated when you returned to face him. “How old are you now? Twenty and five?”

“Twenty and seven,” you clarified. 

“And still unmarried?” he looked positively bewildered at the thought. “My late wife, gods bless her, was betrothed to me at her first blood.”

“My father didn’t feel the need to secure alliances with marriage contracts,” you stated, your adrenaline suddenly picking up at the direction of the conversation. “In that, I was able to make my own decisions regarding marriage.”

“And no suitors then?” he continued, reaching for his goblet and taking another large swallow. “What about the Asgardian prince?”

“Thor is betrothed to Lady Sif,” you explained patiently.

“No, the other one, Loki,” he asked, watching you for a reaction. 

Fortunately your mask hid any negative emotions that may have arisen from the suggestion. The idea had been tossed around between Odin and your father, especially given you’d practically shared a childhood between the two kingdoms. 

Unfortunately, despite the closeness between you and the prince, it wasn’t a love match and the kings had ultimately respected the decision. It was a fortunate outcome, given the power the two men had maintained respectively, even you could recognize and heir of a Stark and an Odinson would yield favorable means.

“It was decided we would focus on other endeavors,” you answered firmly. He nodded his head, considering your words.

“Then there is no one waiting for your hand? No secret rendezvous in the moonlight?” he laughed but you did not miss the way his eyes trailed to the back of the room where you knew Wong and Stephen to be standing.

“Why do you ask?” you questioned before giving a firm answer.

“A proposal has come up that I was considering on your behalf,” he explained briskly. “I wanted to see if it would be an issue. I wasn’t certain of arrangements your father may have made, so I figured I would ask you directly.”

A proposal? 

Your head spun at the idea. 

Right now? Just after your father’s death? 

You couldn’t imagine leaving your home, leaving behind your family, your siblings and your mother… and in this tumultuous time? 

“Is a wedding in the best interest of the kingdom, your majesty?” you asked sheepishly, all nerve and confidence draining quickly from your body as you realized that your fate rested in the easily agitated man before you. 

“I think that’s for me to decide,” he replied, throwing on a smile and laughing at your reaction. “I believe it’d be a wonderful match.”

“Do I know him?” you tried a different approach. Perhaps, if you were familiar with the gentlemen in question, you could offer reason as to why it would be a bad idea. 

“You know of him,” Obadiah replied, keeping his answers vague. “He’s agreed to meet with you in the morning, so enjoy your evening and we can discuss this more in the morrow.”

He returned to his conversation with the ambassador, ignoring your existence as quietly as he’d destroyed it.

Your whole body felt like it was drifting along a churning sea as you walked back toward your companions. Laughing partygoers danced and twirled around you. What had felt like a warm spell had fallen into a devastating curse.

Sensing something amiss, Wong excused himself, leaving you and Stephen alone, the latter suggesting you step outside to get some fresh air. 

Part of you felt foolish. You knew that you wouldn’t be able to spend your life as a spinster, not when you had been born into such a role of privilege and importance. Perhaps you should have married Loki when you had the opportunity. You knew him, he was safe and familiar.

There was no lust there, and to that, you didn’t mind. He could have had his mistresses. You…

“Your highness?” 

Stephen.

He looked to you with genuine concern, waiting for something- an explanation, a reassurance of your well being, and you had nothing. Your heart felt like it had shattered in your chest, the emotions so overwhelming and consuming all at once.

“I’m betrothed,” you finally choked out after leaning on the balcony for support. You watched him for a reaction. Anything. If he could give you a reason, convince you that this was something you should fight for yourself or even for him. 

“To who?” he barked out the question, his voice strained.

“I don’t know, Obadiah arranged it,” you explained with a frustrated wave of your hand. Taking a breath you shook your head, ripping your mask off and holding your head up in an attempt to blink back the hot tears that threatened to spill over. Stephen moved to your side, his own mask coming off. 

“Fight it,” he stated, taking your hands. “If you don’t want to wed, then push back against this madness.”

“He’s the king Stephen,” you reminded him in a harsh whisper. It went unspoken the fate that could await you if you went against Obadiah’s wishes. His grip tightened and he bowed his head into your knuckles. He was shaking. 

Please, you mentally begged. This was it. This was his last chance.

You’d known. 

Gods you’d known for so long and had done your best to push your own feelings aside. You’d hoped, deep down, that if the right time came your father would have given his blessing. It was the reason why you’d stepped away from Loki, and why he’d backed away. 

It’d been this unspoken affection you’d shared for one another that had seemed so innocent until now. Until you had to stare him in the eye and tell him that you belonged to a stranger.

“Regardless of who it is,” he started, looking up at you desperately. “Would you-? Would you marry willingly?”

“Say it,” you challenged instead. Say you don’t can’t lose me. Say you oppose this.

“Is that what you want?” he searched your face for direction, but the decision was with him.

Dropping his hands in frustration, you grabbed the front of his robes and pulled him toward you in a frantic kiss. If that didn’t make your intentions clear, you didn’t know what else would. 

He returned in a fervor, hands moving to pull you closer, taking the moment to taste fully what the two of you had danced around for nearly a decade. He took his time and you relished every moment of it, your soul wishing it could be bound in his embrace forever. 

When he pulled away, his hand lingered on the back of your neck and he pressed his forehead against yours.

“Then we stop this.”

And even if the promise fell through, or the world crumbled around you, in that moment- that perfect moment- you didn’t care so long as he remained by your side.

(—)

5 - a gift for the princess 

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Playlist inspired by the first chapter of my fanfiction, “blood”

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