#do not chastise the dove: a royal moon knight au

[starryevermore]

do not chastise the dove (epilogue) ✧ steven grant, marc spector, jake lockley

do not chastise the dove ✧ a royal moon knight au | ao3 | pinterest board

pairing: knight!steven grant x fem!princess!reader x knight!marc spector x knight!jake lockley

series summary: you were a princess who would rather be anything but a royal; he was the knight her father forced her to marry—a true match made in hell if there ever was one. but, as the wedding inches closer and closer, it seems that, perhaps, your father had finally done something right by you. 

chapter summary: a look into what the future holds.

word count: 6,120

warnings?: visiting elaine’s grave, talks of death, pregnancy announcement, inaccurate depictions of giving birth, marc being anxious about being a father, fluff, pet name (dove), not proofread 

The Royal Cemetery was a place that was rarely visited. It was completely closed off from the public. Only members of the Royal Family and their guests were allowed to enter. You had only gone once before, just after your mother had passed. You were supposed to be in school at the time, but it had not even been a week since she had been buried. You couldn’t focus on your studies at all, so you found yourself sneaking out the back door and walking all the way to the cemetery. You sat in front of your mother’s grave well past nightfall. You told her all about how you missed her, how you wished you could have hugged her one last time, told her you loved her one more time. You had every intent on staying there forever, but Pearl arrived just as the stars began to twinkle.

When you returned to the palace, Benjamin banned you from going to the cemetery again. At the time, you convinced yourself that he had been worried about you, that he didn’t know where you had gone. You had been so sure that if you asked just nicely enough, he might visit your mother’s grave with you one day. That day never came. Now, you knew he banned you from the cemetery because he cared about his public image. The King didn’t know where the Princess was? He couldn’t keep track of his daughter? It was a tabloid mess if there ever was one. That day had been the beginning of the end of your freedom for a long, long time. 

It was strange being back there now. It was even stranger being there with company. Marc held your hand tight, a bundle of flowers in the other. He dropped your hand as he carefully placed the bouquet on Elaine’s grave. He glanced at you, then back to the headstone. 

“Your daughter is a wonderful woman,” Marc said to the headstone. “I…I want you to know she’s in safe hands. I will never let a day go past without her knowing how loved she is. She deserves all the good in the world, and I will make sure she gets that.”

Your mouth quirked up into a smile. It was still so rare for Marc to make grand statements of love and affection. He was more of an actions-speak-louder-than-words kind of person. You, of course, appreciated his actions. You wouldn’t change a single thing about him. But, still, when he had those rare romantic movie type of declarations of love, your heart always soared. You knew how big of a deal it was to him, and so you savored every last word. 

“I wish you could be here,” you said. “There’s not a day that doesn’t go by without me missing you. I like to think, though, that you’re still here, guiding me through life. Guiding me straight to the loveliest, kindest men I’ve ever met. I mean, you did guide me straight to the truth about my birthright, didn’t you? Thank you. I love you, mommy.”

Marc looked at you, his pretty brown eyes soft. “We should come here more often, keep your mom updated on our lives. Maybe even bring Cleo down, our kids when we have them.”

Your smile grew. Marc still had his doubts about becoming a father, but he had slowly started talking more about the future. One day, he even told you how he wanted three kids. He even confirmed that he liked Steven’s suggesting of naming your son, if you should ever have a son, Randall. Sometimes, when he was feeling even bolder, he would tell you about family traditions he wanted to share with the children. How they would have a bar or bat mitzvah. How Marc couldn’t wait to teach them how to play dreidel. How he looked forward to sharing family recipes. Once, you even found him ordering children’s books, ones Steven told you had been his favorite during his childhood. 

“That would be wonderful.” 

Marc slipped his hand into yours, giving it a squeeze once, twice, three times. You bid your mother farewell before the two of you began walking around the cemetery. Every so often, you would point to a headstone, tell Marc about the family member. You weren’t sure how much he was paying attention. Most of his focus, it seemed, was on you and you alone. That is, until a question came to Marc’s mind.

“Is Benjamin buried here? I would have thought he’d be buried beside your mom.”

You pointed to a corner of the cemetery darkened by the shade of a large tree. A new headstone had been placed there, but it was already being destroyed by winding tree roots coming out of the ground. “Over there.”

Marc snorted. “You pick the spot?”

“I would’ve left his grave unmarked if I did,” you said. “I let the groundskeeper handle it. I almost expected him to bury Benjamin beside my mother. That had always been the plan. Benjamin even had the gravesite picked out. But the groundskeeper holds grudges against those who forbid their family from coming here, it seems.”

“Have you got our spot picked out?”

“I was thinking beside my mother. I feel like she might be lonely, all by herself.”

Marc smiled. “That’s sweet of you, dove.”

“And a bit morbid,” you laughed. “Now, come on. I’m starting to get hungry.”

“Good, because Steven’s been begging to eat for the last little bit.”

“And you just let him starve?” you said with a fake gasp. “We’d better go now, then. We can eat and talk more about the future, yeah?”

“Sounds like a perfect plan, dove. A perfect plan indeed.”

Coronation day had finally arrived. You felt like an odd mix of Anna and Elsa from Frozen, Anna’s excitement fueling you but Elsa’s anxieties making you keenly aware of just how many eyes were going to be on you. It felt a bit silly to be so nervous. After all, you had already been Queen for a year. This was more of a formal ceremony than anything. The power was yours, it couldn’t be taken away. However…You certainly could make a fool of yourself. 

What if you tripped on your way into the cathedral? What if, when you got out of the car, the door was shut on the train of your dress and it got ripped as the driver drove away? What if you jumbled up all of your words? What if you dropped the crown? Oh, it could all be a disaster!

“You’re gonna do fine, my dove,” Steven said watching as you fussed over your dress. 

Well, all things considered, even if the worst happened, at least you looked beautiful while it happened. You had chosen an off-the-shoulder blue gown, adorned with floral appliques. It was tradition that royals wear blue—the family color—to coronations. In any case, the dress was gorgeous when you picked it out, and it looked even more gorgeous on you. 

“I’m scared,” you said. 

Steven rose from his seat before you could blink, coming to stand behind you. He put his hands on your hips, turning you around. As you looked at him, he dipped his head, pressing his forehead against yours. “It’s scary going out there,” he said. “Can’t deny that, can I? I can’t. Every time we do a public engagement, I’m terrified that I’ll come out as a bumbling fool. That I’ll trip over my feet or I’ll say the wrong name. But every time, I get up and it turns out fine.”

“What if this time is different?”

“I’ll be there to support you. Marc and Jake, too, if you’d prefer one of them to jump in. Your entire support system, honestly. If you end up doing something silly, we’ll all do the same thing. You fall? I’m taking a tumble too. You start speaking backwards? I’ll jump up and start speaking backwards too. Alright? The only thing you need to be scared of is the press running stories about how the Queen married a brainless half-wit.”

You let out a laugh. “You’d really do that?”

“Without a second thought.”

You bit down on your lip, holding back another laugh. “Well, then I think we should go now, yeah?”

“Lead the way, my Queen Dove.”

The streets were lined with citizens from all over the kingdom and abroad as the driver took you to the cathedral. As the car passed by, cheers erupted from the crowd. Dozens upon dozens upon dozens of people were waving at you, pointing at the car. Your heart lifted at the sight. Part of you knew that many were gathered just to say they caught the glimpse of the Queen on her way to the coronation. But, it felt nice to see so many people there in support of you. 

You reached over, taking Steven’s hand, as the car approached the cathedral. When the car came to a halt and the door opened, Steven got out first before helping you. Attendants descended upon you, aiding you with the long train, ensuring that the door did not slam on it and rip it. Steven walked in front of you, leading the way into the cathedral. You gave a few smiles to the press as you walked, but you mostly kept your gaze focused on the entryway. 

All eyes were on you as you walked inside. You, again, tried to ignore it. Kept your eyes to the front. Focused on the officiant waiting for you. Watched Steven as he went to his seat in the front row. You stopped when you reached the stairs, letting the officiant hold his hand out for you to take as he helped you up the stairs. You turned to face the crowd as the attendants fixed your train.

Finally, you sank into the throne, look out at the crowd. The officiant stepped in front of you. He asked, “Madam, is your Majesty willing and able to take the Sacred Oath?”

“I am willing and able,” you answered.

“Will you solemnly promise and swear to govern the Peoples of our Great Kingdom according to our laws and customs?”

“I solemnly promise so to do.”

“Will you promise to protect our Great Kingdom against enemies without and within?”

“I always will.”

“Will you to your power cause Law and Justice, in Mercy, to be executed in all your judgments?”

“I will.”

The officiant took the Royal Scepter from one of the attendants and passed it to you. You held it carefully with both hands, swallowing hard. Wow. This was real. This was becoming a reality—even more so than it already was.

“Then repeat after me.” When you nodded, the officiant continued. “I, Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N…”

“I, Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N…”

“…will rule with compassion, extending charity and mercy to all my people…”

“…will rule with compassion, extending charity and mercy to all my people…”

“…All this I have promised, I will perform as champion of my beloved country and her people.”

“…All this I have promised, I will perform as champion of my beloved country and her people.”

The officiant turned to another attendant, taking the crown off of its velvet pillow. He turned back to you, holding the crown over your head. “In accordance with law and custom, I crown you, /N Y/M/N Y/L/N, Queen of our Great Kingdom.”

He placed the crown on your head, then turned to face the crown. “Long live the Queen.”

The crowd echoed back—perhaps Steven the loudest of all— “Long live the Queen!”

Layla squeezed your hand as you looked at the white stick in your hands. You couldn’t believe it. You had wanted this, but…God, it felt so different when you knew it was a reality. You had been feeling sick for a week, waves of nausea constantly washing over you. This morning, when you looked at your calendar and realized you were weeks late for your period, you sent a worker out to pick up an assortment of pregnancy tests. She came back with five, and all five told you the same answer. 

“When are you going to tell them?” Yelena asked.

“Soon,” you said. “I want to do it today, but…I don’t know. I’m scared that it might scare Marc.”

“Marc will be fine,” Layla assured you. “He’ll be scared shitless, sure. But if you think he might run or stop fronting or whatever you’re worried about…I know him well enough to know he would never abandon you like that. Especially not when you’re in such a vulnerable state. He would sooner die.”

“How should I tell them, though? Should I do something elaborate? Be more coy? I just…Pregnancy announcements are a big deal. I want to get this right.”

“Just tell them outright, don’t make a big fuss of it,” Yelena said. “Walk up to them, say I’m pregnant bitches!, and go about your merry way. No muss, no fuss.”

“…you’re pregnant?”

“No, not me, Y/N,” Yelena said, turning towards the door. Her eyes went wide as she stared at the man in the doorframe. “Oh shit.”

You lifted your head to see Jake standing in the doorway to your office, his jaw slack. You dropped the pregnancy test, it clattering on the desk. 

Scott, who stood behind Jake, peaked around him. “Sorry, I didn’t realize it was a bad time,” he said. 

“It…It’s not a bad time at all. Jake, come in. Um, everyone else…Could we have a bit of privacy please?”

Layla stood up and ushered Scott away. Yelena, however, remained standing beside you. When you raised an eyebrow at her, she let out an “oh!” before following Layla and Scott out, shutting the door behind her. You stood up, picking up one of the pregnancy tests, and walked over to Jake. You took his hand, and placed the test in it.

“Two lines…That means positive?” he asked as he looked at it. 

You nodded. 

“And, you’re sure?”

“I took five tests, all positive. We’ll still have to go to a doctor to check. False positives do happen and all that. Plus, it’s good to just start going to a doctor and getting everything ready. But…Yes. I’m sure.”

Jake’s arms were wrapped around you in an instant, squeezing you tight, nearly lifting you right off the floor. “We’re going to have a baby! We’re going to have a baby! We need to go get a, a crib and a bassinet and a stroller! We need to get baby books and parenting books and diapers! Babies poop a lot, so we should start stocking up now! And—”

You placed your hands on either side of his face, stopping his rambling with a kiss. “Shh, we have months to worry about all of that.”

“Times flies, my dove.”

“Well, waiting a day won’t kill us.” You kissed him again. “How are the others holding up?”

“Steven’s been jumping for joy, trying to take control ever since I walked in here,” Jake said. 

“And Marc?”

“He’s still rambling about all of the things we need to do to prepare for our little baby.”

You let out a laugh. Well, you supposed that wasn’t the worst reaction. In fact, it was probably the best reaction he could have had. “In that case…I suppose it’s time for a celebration, hm?”

Jake wiggled his eyebrows at you as he said, “Oh, I’m ready for the biggest celebration.”

And, oh, he was. 

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the love between Her Majesty, Queen Y/N Y/L/N and His Royal Highnesses, Princes Marc Spector, Steven Grant, and Jake Lockley in a union commended to be honorable among all,” the officiant said. 

You looked at Marc in front of you, unable to hide your smile on your face. You still couldn’t believe he had offered to front for the public wedding ceremony. The one that would be televised internationally. The one that everyone would be watching. If you were honest, you had thought Steven might have been the one to front again. He was all about grand statements of love, after all. But this…This felt perfect. 

Marc held your hand, his thumb rubbing the top of it. “You look beautiful, my dove.”

You had reworn your dress from the private ceremony, with some small alterations. You were a few months into your pregnancy now, and you were just starting to show. Before the dress had been let out, it had been near impossible to close the dress up without ripping the seams because of your belly bump.

Marc had been…Well, you hesitated to call his reaction feral, but it was pretty damn close when he walked in your dress fitting and saw your bump. For all intents and purposes, he was still incredibly nervous about being a father. But there was something about seeing you carry his child that sparked a sort of energy in him that was near impossible to contend with. 

“And you look handsome, my love.”

“And therefore, this union has not been entered into lightly but reverently, passionately, lovingly, and solemnly. Into this, these two persons present now come to reaffirm their wondrous union,” the officiant continued. 

The officiant paused, looking between you and Marc, before smiling and continuing, “William Penn tells us to never marry but for love; but see that thou lovest what is lovely. He that minds a body and not a soul has not the better part of that relationship, and will consequently lack the noblest comfort of a married life.

“Between a man and his wife, nothing ought to rule but love. As love ought to bring them together, so it is the best way to keep them well together.

“A husband and wife that love one another show their children that they should do so too. Others visibly lose their authority in their families by the contempt of one another, and teach their children to be unnatural by their own examples.

“Let not enjoyment lessen, but augment, affection; it being the basest of passions to like when we have not, what we slight when we possess.

“Here it is we ought to search out our pleasure, where the field is large and full of variety, and of an enduring nature; sickness, poverty or disgrace being not able to shake it because it is not under the moving influences of worldly contingencies.

“Nothing can be more entire and without reserve; nothing more zealous, affectionate and sincere; nothing more contented than such a couple, nor greater temporal felicity than to be one of them.”

Marc had been the one to pick out the opening reading. He had found the poem among Steven’s books and declared it perfect for the ceremony. And oh, how could you deny him when he pulled out his pretty puppy dog eyes? 

“There are few loves in this world as pure as the one I have witnessed between the Queen and the Prince Consorts,” the officiant said. “In the short time I have shared with them, it has become clear to me, as it should be clear to all, that these two adore each other. Their love is the kind of love we should all strive to have. They care of each other. They respect each other. They ensure the other’s happiness, always. It is surely the kind of love that artists try to paint, that writers try to write, that will endure forever, always.”

You took a moment to look out at the crowd. The cathedral was filled to the brim and then some. This was, after all, the event of the year. Everyone who was anyone wished to attend. Members of Parliament, foreign dignitaries, and, of course, all of your friends. It was almost strange, seeing so many people there. At least, compared to the more intimate, private ceremony. 

You looked back at Marc as the officiant said, “Her Majesty and His Royal Highness have chosen to share the traditional vows.”

The two of you had done personal vows for the private ceremony. You and the boys debated on sharing an updated version of those vows today, but in the end, the answer was clear. Some parts of your love, of your lives, was meant to stay private. The entire ceremony was to be broadcast internationally. The world didn’t need to know all of the ins and outs of your love for each other. 

“Your Royal Highness, if you would repeat after me: I take you to be my wife, my partner in life, and my one true love.”

“I take you to be my wife, my partner in life, and my one true love.”

“I will cherish our union and love you more each day than I did the day before.”

“I will cherish our union and love you more each day than I did the day before.”

“I will trust you and respect you, laugh with you and cry with you, loving you faithfully through good times and bad, regardless of the obstacles we may face together.”

“I will trust you and respect you, laugh with you and cry with you, loving you faithfully through good times and bad, regardless of the obstacles we may face together.”

“I give you my hand, my heart, and my love, from this day forward for as long as we both shall live.”

“I give you my hand, my heart, and my love, from this day forward for as long as we both shall live.” Marc paused. “And every day after that, too.”

You smiled as the officiant directed you to say the same vows. Once you finished, the officiant said, “We will now exchange rings as a symbol of this couple’s love. May we have the rings?” Layla stepped forward and gave you Marc’s ring and Marc your ring. The officiant looked to Marc, and said, “Your Royal Highness, please repeat after me: I give you this ring as an eternal symbol of my love and commitment to you.”

“I give you this ring as an eternal symbol of my love and commitment to you,” Marc said, sliding the ring onto your finger. 

The officiant turned to you. “Your Majesty please repeat after me: I give you this ring as an eternal symbol of my love and commitment to you.”

“I give you this ring as an eternal symbol of my love and commitment to you,” you repeated, placing the ring on Marc’s finger.

“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you wife and husband.” The officiant looked at Marc. “You may now kiss the bride.”

“My pleasure,” Marc said. 

Marc grabbed at your waist, spinning you into a dip and kissing you positively senseless. Well, that was certainly going to be the picture plastered across the front page.

As Queen, the annual birthday parade now celebrated your birthday instead of Benjamin’s. The first two years of your reign, you had opted out of the tradition. There was far too much going on between gaining your footing as Queen, planning the coronation and public wedding ceremony, and recovering from the string of attempts on your life. Now, after all of the dust had settled, you decided it was time to revive the tradition. 

You settled in the open carriage, smoothing your hand over your much larger baby bump. You were a month out from delivering your little bundle of joy. This was actually to be your last public engagement for a long while. After this, you planned on resting until you had to go to the hospital. Finally, after months of carrying her, you would finally get to meet your baby Eliana. 

“Little one bein’ fussy?” Jake asked he sat next to you. He wrapped one arm around your shoulder, his other hand coming to rest on your belly. “Because I told her this morning that she needed to be extra good for a couple of hours.”

Jake loved doing that. Talking to your baby bump, you mean. Most mornings when you woke up, you would find Jake with his head resting on your bump, telling little Eliana all sorts of stories. About how her daddies were excited to meet her. How he hoped she grew up to be like her mommy. Sometimes, he would tell her fairytales, though he often forgot most of the details and made them up on the fly. (And, sometimes, you woke up and found Marc doing the same, though he often stuck to telling her how much he loved her. You never let him know you caught him, letting him have the moment to himself.) 

“Oh, don’t worry. She’s settled down after breakfast,” you said. “Think she’s taking a nap in there right now.”

“Good.” Jake leaned, kissed the side of your head. The carriage jolted forward as the parade began, leading out onto the streets of the capitol. “Can you believe this time next year, she’s gonna be sitting right here in between us?”

“No,” you said. “I can hardly believe that in a month’s time, I won’t be carrying her in my belly anymore. I think I’m gonna miss it.”

Jake gave you a wicked grin. “Guess we’ll just have to put another baby in ya then, won’t we?”

“Mm, I would like that.”

Before Jake could say any more, your attention was pulled away by the sound of the cheering crowd. You painted on a smile, getting ready to wave at those in attendance. As you got closer to the crowd, though, you spotted a familiar face in the crowd. You tapped your hand against Jake’s leg. He looked at you, following your gaze to the girl in the crowd. Little Daisy stood there with her parents, giving you both a toothy grin. 

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” she shouted when she realized you were looking at her. 

“THANK YOU, DAISY!” you shouted back, turning to look at the way her face lit up as the carriage continued down the road. 

“Did ya hear that? She remembers me!” you heard her say before you turned back around to face the front. 

“I hope Eliana is as happy as Daisy,” you said to Jake. 

“With you as a mommy? She definitely will be.”

You grabbed Jake’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “I love you so much.”

“And I love you, my dove.”

“Just one more push!” the nurse said. “Just one big one, okay?”

You screamed as you pushed, gripping Marc’s hand so tight it might break. He squeezed back, telling you encouraging words that you mostly drowned out with your shouts. Then— A noise louder than your screams filled the room as your baby was born.

The nurse held your baby as the doctor cut the umbilical cord. “Congratulations,” she said, smiling widely as you. “It’s a girl!”

“A girl?” you repeated. You looked at Marc, a tired smile on your face. “We’ve got our sweet Eliana. Oh, I can’t wait to hold her!”

“Well, let’s not think about that right now. We got another baby to have,” the doctor said. 

You raised your head off the pillow, looking at the doctor with furrowed brows. “Another? You told us we were having just one!”

“Sometimes, one of the babies blocks its twin in the ultrasounds,” he said. “In any case, you need to get ready to push ‘cause this baby’s coming out whether you only expected one child or two.”

The nurse, who had passed your baby to another nurse so she could be cleaned up, glared at the doctor. “Don’t be such a dick,” she hissed at him. She looked back at you, smiling. “Just gotta do it one more time, okay? Lean back, and start pushing when we tell you to, just like we did before.”

You settled back, head falling on the pillow again. You took a moment to look at Marc, seeing the color drained from his face. “You okay, my love?”

“I wasn’t prepared for two. I was barely prepared for one,” he whispered. 

“It’ll be okay,” you said. “We can handle assassination attempts and hidden family plots, can’t we? We can handle this just fine.”

Marc swallowed hard and nodded. “Let’s do this.”

Several minutes, too many pushes, and a sore throat later, your second child was born. A boy, your Randall. You watched as he was taken away, too, to be cleaned up. You glanced at the doctor, who started to get up. 

“No more, right? No secret triplet I should know about?” you asked. 

The doctor shook his head. “Just the two, I swear.”

“You also swore there was just one,” Marc muttered. 

You patted Marc’s arm, turning his attention back to you as the doctor left. “You’re gonna be okay, love. It’s not what we expected, but we always wanted multiple kids. We’re just getting a head start on that big family sooner than expected, yeah?”

���One newborn is hard, two is…unimaginably difficult,” Marc said. 

“We can handle it. And if we can’t, we have a wonderful support system to help us.”

Before Marc could reply, a couple of nurses entered the room, your babies in their arms. “It’s important the babies get plenty of time with mommy,” one of them said, passing you Eliana. The other nurse handed you Randall. Both babies were settled in either book of your arm, nestled in there like it was home. “Don’t want to shock them too much after leaving the womb, hm?”

You thanked them and they soon left the room after telling you to shout if you needed anything. As you and Marc were left alone, you looked at him, seeing his gaze entirely focused on your children. He almost looked like he wanted to ask something but like he was too scared to say anything. You took a shot in the dark as to what that might have been. 

“Go on, my love, hold her,” you said, holding Eliana out towards Marc. 

He stared at her. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. His gaze lifted to look at you, his head giving a small shake. 

“She deserves to know all of her fathers. My love, I wouldn’t ask you to hold her if I thought you would drop her or scare her or hurt her in any way. You’re one of her fathers. You deserve to hold your baby.”

Marc looked back at Eliana. He glanced at Randall, nestled in the crook of your other arm. Eliana cooed at him, wiggling in her cocoon of a blanket as if she was trying to reach out for him, practically crying out, hold me! hold me, please!

“I trust you.”

Slowly, Marc extended his arms, one hand going behind Eliana’s head, supporting her as she nestled in his arms. “She’s so tiny,” he breathed out. “She looks like she could be broken so easily.”

“Not so easily. Babies are resilient, you know,” you said. “This is gonna be hard, Marc. I can’t lie to you about that. But we can get through. That’s what matters. That we don’t give up, that we try to do what’s best for our kids. Sometimes, they might love us for it. Others, they might hate us for it. But let them grow up knowing that we all tried.”

Marc sniffed. He leaned down, brushing his nose against the top of Eliana’s head as he kissed her forehead. “I’m gonna protect you. I’m gonna keep you safe,” he whispered. He looked back to you, his eyes glassy. “I’m gonna make sure no one hurts our family.”

You watched as Randall doddled around the ballroom, his chubby little hand clutching Layla’s fingers. Of everyone in attendance, he was probably the most comfortably dressed. Rather than forcing him into a tuxedo and making him uncomfortable all night, you had purchased one of those t-shirts that has a tuxedo design printed on. Paired with some comfy shorts, he was practically wearing pajamas. Eliana was similarly comfortable, wearing a pink t-shirt and shorts. Unlike her brother, though, she had clung to her daddies all night long. 

“Are you gonna let me dance with daddy?” you asked, tickling under Eliana’s chin as the band began a new song.

She shook her head, giggling. 

“Hm…Well, how about we both dance with you?” you asked. 

Her little face lit up. She let out a noise that almost sounded like she said “yess!!”

Steven let out a laugh, adjusting Eliana so he had a better grip on her before leading you and her onto the dance floor. You placed one hand on Steven’s shoulder, wrapping your other arm around Eliana. Steven put one hand on your waist. Together, the two of you swayed to the music.

“Me!”

You looked down, seeing Randall doddling up to you as quickly as he could manage. Layla let out a laugh, scooping him up and helping him get the rest of the way to you. You let go of Steven, balancing your baby boy in your arms, before continuing to sway.

“How could I ever forget my boy?” you asked, kissing his cheeks. “Gotta have both my babies, don’t I?”

It was your first birthday ball since…Well, the horrible one that sent your entire life as you once knew it spiraling. You had chosen to not hold the ball last year when you revived the birthday parade tradition. It was one thing to sit in a carriage and smile and wave for a few hours. It was an entirely different thing to stand in the ballroom for a couple of hours, even if you did forgo the heels. Now, though, as your sweet babies were nearly a year old, it felt right to bring it back. A new family, a better tradition. 

“What about this boy? I think you forgot his kiss this morning.”

You lifted your gaze to look at Marc, who was now fronting. You smiled and leaned in, careful to not bump Randall’s head against Eliana’s, and gave him a gentle kiss. “That better, my love?”

“Hmm, it’ll have to hold me over for now.” He smiled slightly. “Happy birthday, dove.”

The song came to an end and Layla stepped forward, Yelena by her side, offering to watch the kiddos so you and Marc could have a moment to yourselves. You both agreed, passing the toddlers to them, before slipping your hand in Marc’s and leading him out to the balcony. 

“As nervous as I was for all of this,” Marc said, looking up at the stars, “I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

You smiled at him, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Me neither. Everything is more amazing than I ever could have imagined.”

You felt a shift in Marc’s body language and, when you lifted your head, you realized that Jake was now fronting. “I can think of something that would make this even more amazing.”

A brow raised. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“Adding another member to the family.”

You smiled. “You know, I think that would be an amazing birthday present.”

It was almost strange, feeling so happy. So content. For so many years, you had been on edge. You were scared and anxious and hated the way your life was headed. There was a constant weight on your shoulder. But ever since you met your husbands, that weight was slowly being lifted off of you until now, when you felt as light as a feather. You could breathe. You weren’t afraid anymore. Ever since you met your husbands, you felt free to live, to love, to be authentically you. Sure, you still had to paint on a smile for public engagements (after all, anyone who spent their days being attacked by flash photography could much rather glare than smile), but otherwise? You didn’t have to pretend anymore. 

You once thought that, if you had a choice, you would be anything but a royal. You thought that it wasn’t what you wanted. You thought it ripped your freedom from you. You thought you would never be able to do anything right. Now, you knew that this was the life you always wanted. Being a royal had its issues, to be sure. But when you looked at your life that you had built with Marc, Steven, and Jake by your side…You wouldn’t trade it for anything. 

“I love you, dove. We all do.”

“And I love you all, too, my loves. Forever and ever.”

And all was well for now and forevermore. 

FIN.

[moonlightfoxs-cantina]

Oh my gosh! I know what story you’re talking about! It’s a series called “do not chastise the dove” by @starryevermore

https://starryevermore.tumblr.com/post/690060013335724032/do-not-chastise-the-dove-a-royal-moon-knight-au

You’re welcome :3

If I'm getting arranged marriage, why won't my parents marry me off to a sexy, rich vampire in a castle or a powerful Prince of Hell?

[starryevermore]

do not chastise the dove (19) ✧ steven grant, marc spector, jake lockley

do not chastise the dove ✧ a royal moon knight au | ao3 | pinterest board

pairing: knight!steven grant x fem!princess!reader x knight!marc spector x knight!jake lockley

series summary: you were a princess who would rather be anything but a royal; he was the knight her father forced her to marry—a true match made in hell if there ever was one. but, as the wedding inches closer and closer, it seems that, perhaps, your father had finally done something right by you. 

chapter summary: things become more serious. 

word count: 3,512

warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, smut, oral (m receiving), piv, unprotected sex, pet name (dove), not proofread

There was a pit in Marc’s stomach as he watched the cameras being set up. He knew this was something he, Steven, Jake, and you agreed to. He understood that this was, perhaps, the only real way to deal with the issues with the media. But that didn’t negate the feeling of nervous burrowing deep within his bones. He didn’t want to be fronting for this. He wanted to retreat into the headspace, let Jake or Steven take the reins, and only front again when the dust had settled. 

The system and you agreed that the interview should be held at the palace. You thought it would be best because, if the press caught wind of you and them going to a news station, it would only add fuel to the fire. It was, after all, much easier to sneak people into the palace than to sneak people out of it. Besides, Karen didn’t require very much for her interview. Three cameras, a few people to operate everything, other things Marc lacked the technical skill in to identify…Not a lot by any means. Still, though, as he watched, he got more nervous of what was to come. 

Karen could be trusted, sure. Plus, the interview was not going to be live, so there was not as much pressure on the entire thing. And yet, Marc found himself worrying about the worst possible endings. Would you use all of your support from the public? Would you be pressured to hide your relationship from the public? Would it worsen the threats being made against you? He could handle anything that came his way, that came the system’s way, but when it came to you… You had already been through too much to have to feel anymore heartache. 

Marc was pulled from his thoughts as he felt you squeeze his hand once, twice, three times. A small smile curled across his face. He looked at you, seeing the concern brimming in your eyes. 

Your brows were knit together, your voice was soft, as you asked, “Are you alright with this still? I can ask Karen to reschedule or cancel if you no longer feel comfortable with this.”

His heart swelled. He loved how concerned you were for his, and Jake’s and Steven’s, comfort. Marc had never experienced something quite like this before. Layla, his only real relationship before you, had shown concern and love and all that came with it, but he always got the feeling they both knew it was something temporary, that it wasn’t something that was meant to last. With you…He found himself wanting a future with you. “I’m fine. We all are,” he said, lifting your hand to his mouth, kissing your knuckles. “Just…anxious, I guess. I never spoke on camera before. The only time we’d done something like this, it had been Jake fronting the entire time.”

“It’s going to be alright. Karen’s really good at making this feel more like a conversation than an interview. I always forget that I’m even on camera when I’m with her,” you said. “And, if the nerves become too much, it’s perfectly okay to ask for a break.”

“I know. Thank you, dove,” he said. 

Marc’s attention was pulled away from you as he heard the click-clack of a pair of heels approaching. He looked over at Karen as she walked up you and him. She wore a smile on her face as she asked, “We’re almost done setting up if you’re ready to get started.”

Marc glanced at you, then looked back to Karen, and said, “We’re ready.”

“Great! Feel free to go ahead and take a seat, and we’ll begin in just a few moments.”

Marc nodded, squeezing your hand as the two of you walked over to the chairs. You had opted to have a loveseat for you and Marc, while Karen sat in a matching armchair across from the two of you. You’d said something about it showing how you and the system were considered a unit. Separate chairs indicate you’re too separated from them, like there’s a wedge between you and them. Marc wasn’t sure how true that was, but figured you knew more about the vultures of the media and the gossiping geese than he did. You sank into the plush seat, and he sat beside you. He hadn’t really intended to, but he sat so close, his leg rubbed against yours, you almost instinctually nestling next to him. 

“You made a good choice with the seats, dove,” Marc whispered to you, his nose brushing against the shell of your ear. 

You smiled so wide you showed off your pretty teeth, your eyes crinkling at the corners. “Thank you, my love. Can I tell you a secret?”

Marc raised a brow. “Of course.”

“I secretly picked this seating arrangement because I wanted to sit close to you,” you whispered back.

Marc’s face heated up. Fuck. Could he admit that this was all he ever wanted? To feel wanted? To know that someone loved him, cared for him, so much that they would so such sweet things? That they wanted to make him feel good, not hurt him? “I love you, dove. I love you so much.”

“I love you, my love.”

“God, you too are so sweet, it’s going to give me a cavity,” Karen said. She took her seat in the armchair. “We’re ready to begin.”

You nodded and indicated for Karen to continue. 

Her face shifted slightly, taking on the more professional look associated with her journalistic skills. Her voice held the same air of professionalism as she said, “Good morning. I am here today with Her Majesty, Queen Y/N and her fiancés, Marc, Steven, and Jake. Marc is currently the one fronting. How are you all today?”

Marc watched as you smiled and said, “We’re doing well, thank you. How are you?”

“I’m doing well, as well,” Karen said. “First, I would like to congratulate you on acceding to the throne. The Crown suits you well, I think.”

You let out a laugh. It sounded almost melodic. “I’m not sure how true that is now. I’m still adjusting to the position. It’s already a steep learning curve, but when you add in everything that’s happened…Well, I’m sure you can imagine the difficulties.”

“She’s being modest,” Marc said, squeezing your hand. “Dove’s being doing better than I ever could have imagined.”

“I’m sure it helps that she has such an amazing support system,” Karen said. “I'm sure I speak for everyone when I say that watching the system and her interact…It seems like a fairy tale come true.”

“I’m not too sure you can say you speak for everyone,” you corrected. “As with the case with most things people don’t understand, harsh judgment often follows. But I know my fiancés for who they are, and no matter what the naysayers try to accuse them of, I know it’s not true.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Karen said. “I know I, along with others, have wondered how much truth was spoken in the first interview you gave when announcing your engagement, especially when we learned of how controlling the former King had been. So, how much was fact and how much was fiction?”

“Well, the how-we-met was true, at least as far as Jake and Dove meeting,” Marc said. “Steven had met Dove years earlier, when we were kids. I hadn’t met her formally until that morning.”

“It was an arranged marriage,” you explained. “Benjamin had said he had done it so that my rebellious nature could be reigned in. I know now that he intended to pin them for my death had he been successful. In some ways, I suppose he was successful in making them to be the villain, because I’ve seen far too many so-called journalist demonize something that they had no control over, something that doesn’t make them anymore villainous than you or I.”

“Dove…” Marc said. He appreciated how defensive you were over the system. He loved that you would knock down anyone who tried to hurt them. But he worried that people might still misconstrue your words. 

“In other ways, Benjamin arranging this marriage was his fatal flaw. He might actually have been successful had he not introduced us. Because of them, his plans were thwarted at every turn.” you continued. You looked at Marc. Behind him, Marc could hear one of the camera operators positioning the camera so it got a clear shot of your face as you looked at him with pure adoration in your eyes. “Even though I know never he never meant to, Benjamin provided me with something that had been lacking in my life ever since my mother’s passing: love. And for that, I couldn’t be more grateful.”

Your neck cracked as you rolled your head from shoulder to shoulder, trying in vain to relieve some of the tension as you sat in front of your vanity. You had been doing that a lot lately. Steven understood. A life like this was not something you had thought you would ever had. You never planned to live under the weight of the Crown. Where Kieran was primped and preened to be King, you were never paid the same courtesy. Why would you have been? Benjamin had been planning to keep you out of the way for a long, long time. You went one from stressful situation straight into another straight into another, all without a moment of reprieve. 

Steven walked up behind you, his hands coming to rest on your shoulders. Slowly, he started to work out the knots, relishing in the soft moan you let out. He loved your sweet noises. He loved knowing he was responsible for them even more. He loved the way you leaned into his touch, perhaps, most of all. 

“You and Marc did well in the interview, don’t you think? I do,” he said, leaning down, brushing a kiss on the top of your head. “I think it will turn out well.”

“There will still be naysayers,” you said. “But I’m happy that we’ve said our piece.”

Steven hummed, focusing on a particularly tight knot in your shoulders. As he worked it out, he said, “I liked the part where you talked about our future wedding.”

Your skin warmed under his fingers. “You did? I was worried I stepped too far.”

“How could you have? We all talked about having a private ceremony when we’re ready. We’re all in agreement, yeah? Think it’s only fair we share that with the public, make it clear that no matter what they think, we’re by your side.”

You turned around, a smile on your face. “I’m glad you think that, my love.” You stood up, walking around your chair so you stood in front of him, reaching up, cupping his face in your hands. You met him halfway in a kiss, moaning at the contact. “I love you so much.”

Steven’s arms wrapped around your waist. He loved the feeling of your body against his. He loved knowing that you wanted to be as close as possible to him. He felt the same way. “I love you most.”

“Impossible,” you mumbled against his lips. “Lemme show you just how much I love you, yeah?”

Steven’s pants tightened. “Fuck. Please, dove. Please show me.”

He watched as you sank to your knees, a soft gasp escaping his mouth as you freed him from his pants, giving his length a few pumps. He reached down, his fingers tangling in your hair as he pushed you towards his cock, urging you to take him in your mouth. 

Your lips wrapped around his tip, suckling as you looked up at him through your lashes. His grip on your hair tightened. Fuck, fuck, fuuuck. Was there anything better than this? Steven wasn’t sure there was. You let out a small gurgle as you took more of him in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down. 

“Fuck, I love you so much,” he gasped. You let out a moan, the sound slightly muffled. Fuck. “So fucking perfect, dove. God, you make me feel so good.”

Our dove looks so pretty on her knees, doesn’t she?, Jake mused. 

Shh, let Steven have his moment, Marc chided.

Steven felt his balls tighten and, though he wished to see you swallow his cum, that wasn’t how he wished for this to go. He gave a gentle tug on your hair, pulling you away. A trail of spittle connected his cock to your mouth as you looked up at him. “Wanna cum inside you the first time we do this. That okay, dove?”

You smiled, licking your lips. “Of course that’s okay, my love.”

He surged forward, kissing you hard and fast. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Could this be any more perfect? 

Yours and his clothes disappeared in a flurry as the two of you stumbled over to the bed, too attached to even consider parting might make the process easier. Steven lifted you onto the bed, moaning as you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him even closer to you.

“You ready, dove?” Steven asked, reaching between your legs, swirling his finger over your clit, collecting your slick as he did so. “Mm, I think you are!”

“Please fuck me, Steven,” you said, pulling him back down to kiss. “Need to feel you, need you to fill me up.”

You didn’t need to ask him twice. Steven guided his cock into you, slowly filling you up. You groaned at the feeling, nails digging into his skin. God. Your pussy was practically choking him. You were so tight he could barely move.

“You feel so good, dove,” Steven mumbled against your jaw, leaving a trail of kisses as he thrusted his hips. You whined at the feeling. Your back arched against him. “Wanna stay like this forever. Wanna stay in your forever.”

You and me both, Marc said.

Hey! How come you can comment but I can’t?!, Jake asked. 

“Shut up,” Steven mumbled. 

“Huh?”

Shit. He didn’t mean to speak out loud. “Not you. The boys are bickering.”

You let out a laugh. You reached for his hair, tangling your fingers in his curls. Guiding his face back to yours, you kissed him as hard as you could. “Jealous boys, aren’t they?” you asked between kisses. “Hm? They wish they were in your position, don’t they?”

Yes!, they said at the same time. 

“They’re not allowed to be in my position,” Steven said. His thrusts grew more erratic. “They’ve had their turns. This one is mine. Mine. I’m not sharing.”

“Mm, maybe you’re the jealous boy. I have been neglecting you, haven’t I? Not treating you as well as I treat the others? C’mon, my love, let me make it up to you. Take what’s yours.”

“Say. Say you’re mine,” Steven nearly growled. “Need to hear you say it. Need you to say it.”

You opened your mouth, but all the escaped was a moan so loud Steven was half convinced the entire palace could hear it. Or, at least, any staff working in the wing. Your pussy spasmed around him as you practically screamed, “I’m yours, Steven! All yours!”

Steven came with a gasp, nearly collapsing on top of you. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He was damn near addicted to you. He could do this, hear those words, hear those noises, all day every day if you gave him the chance. 

“I love you, dove,” Steven whispered.

You brushed his curls away from his face. “And I love you, my love.”

Steven leaned down, kissed the tip of your nose. “…Can I ask you something?”

“Of course. You can ask me anything.”

“Would you be up for another round, dove?” Steven asked, an uncharacteristic smirk crossing his face. “Think I recall once saying I wanted you to ride me.”

“Cheeky bastard,” you laughed, swatting at his chest. But you gave no protest as he rolled the two of you over so he was on the bottom and you were on top. 

“Is that a no then?”

“It’s a shut-up-so-I-can-fuck-you-stupid.”

A stack of job applications nearly a mile high sat on your desk. You should’ve anticipated that countless people would be vying for a spot to work closely with the Queen. Worse, you should’ve expected that many of those applicants would be well-qualified enough for their applications to wind up on your desk. As you stared at the leaning tower of files, you found yourself wishing you hadn’t opted for a hands-on approach to hiring your secretary. 

“All of these people are qualified?” you asked, picking a file from the top and flipping it open. Claire Weiss. You set the file to the side, not trusting the look in her eyes. 

“Qualified, sure,” Yelena said. “Not all…good. Layla and I to weed out the applications with obvious complications. You know, the sort of things that HR isn’t going to be able to catch.”

“You mean the sort of things that aren’t ever reported?”

“You catch on well,” Yelena said. “Some of the bad eggs might have slipped through the cracks. You should have seen the stack of files HR gave us.”

You hummed as you picked up another file and flipped it open. Phil Coulson. You glanced through his qualifications. With the amount of military experience under his belt, you thought him better suited for being a member of your security detail than a secretary. Still, with everything that’s happened, it wouldn’t hurt if everyone close to you had some degree of knowledge of self-defense. You set in a new pile. 

“When you get the stack narrowed down, we’ll run a more thorough background check,” Layla said. “You still want to sit for the interviews, right?” When you nodded, she continued, “While that’s not public knowledge, we shouldn’t trust that it won’t get out. Even the most secure palace still has its leaks.”

Another file, another name. Daisy Johnson. More of a track record in hacking, but…Well, that could have its uses. At least it meant that she would know her way around a computer, which was a definite plus. These days, it seemed harder and harder to find someone who could figure out how to bold text in a Word Document, much less do anything slightly more complicated. You added Daisy Johnson to the same pile as Phil Coulson. 

“Is that a suggestion I be mindful of what I say around who?” you asked. 

“Well, I can’t order the Queen.”

You looked up at Layla, taking in her teasing look. “You give yourself too little credit. If you told me to jump, I would do it without a second thought.”

“I thought you were supposed to ask how high?” Yelena said. She looked between you and Layla. “You know…When I say jump, you say how high? Isn’t that how it goes?”

“Yes, that’s how it goes,” you confirmed.

“Haha, yes! I was right!” Yelena cheered. 

A hint of a smile crossed your face. You appreciated her enthusiasm over something so simple. It made this job easier. It helped you see the lighter things in life. 

But you didn’t have time to dwell on the thought, for there was a knock at the door. Layla opened it, revealing Jarvis, the head butler. He held a silver platter, a single envelope resting on it. Layla picked up the envelope, thanking him, before turning to you. 

“Were you expecting a letter?” she asked. 

You shook your head. “Nothing comes to mind, no.” You held your hand out. “Let me see that.”

Layla passed it to you. It was a simple envelope, something that could be picked up at an office supply store. There was no stamp. Someone must have dropped it in the royal mailbox personally. That was the only way it could arrive to you without going through the postal service. There was nothing identifiable on the envelope, only a printed out label that read “Her Majesty, the Queen”.

You glanced at Layla and Yelena as you picked up a letter opener, slicing through the envelope. You pulled out the paper, unfolding it carefully. It was a piece of white, copy paper adorned with, in the most cliché way possible, an assortment of cutout letters from a magazine and a clipping of you with your eyes marked out with a bright red Sharpie. It read:

A whore has no place on the throne. Watch your back. Long live the King.

You swallowed hard as you looked up at Layla and Yelena. “It seems the threats are becoming a lot more real if they’ve actually managed to get this to me.”

Yelena took the letter from your hands. “It’s the same as the ones we’ve intercepted. You’d do well to hire a couple more personal bodyguards.”

“Is it that serious?”

“If they’ve managed to get this into the palace…I’d take any threat made towards you with the utmost care.”

Great. This was exactly what you needed. 

[starryevermore]

do not chastise the dove (22) ✧ steven grant, marc spector, jake lockley

do not chastise the dove ✧ a royal moon knight au | ao3 | pinterest board

pairing: knight!steven grant x fem!princess!reader x knight!marc spector x knight!jake lockley

series summary: you were a princess who would rather be anything but a royal; he was the knight her father forced her to marry—a true match made in hell if there ever was one. but, as the wedding inches closer and closer, it seems that, perhaps, your father had finally done something right by you. 

chapter summary: you escape death and you embrace love. 

word count: 3,553

warnings?: fluff, an assassination attempt is thwarted, you get married, pet name (dove), not proofread

“Now, I know that most of your energy is being focused on planning the coronation, but I have to ask: When can we expect the wedding?” Karen asked. 

Marc looked at you, a rare smile taking over his face. “We haven’t nailed anything down quite yet.”

“We’re considering a private ceremony with just close friends and family. If we do that, we’ll probably have that ceremony before the coronation,” you said. “After the coronation, we’ll have a larger, more public ceremony.”

Christine Everhart’s face filled the screen as she rolled her eyes, pretending to gag. “Can you believe that? He’s trying to deprive us of the Queen’s wedding! I just know it was his idea.”

Chess Roberts nodded in agreement. “The Queen always loved the public engagements. There’s no way that she would have agreed to a private ceremony unless he forced it on her.”

“I bet he was the one who made her do the interview anyways. He’s just trying to save face, because the whole kingdom sees him for the lia—”

The TV screen suddenly turned black. You looked over your shoulder, seeing Marc hold the remote. His face was tinted red, his jaw clenched. You stood up, bundling your robe closer to your body, retying the knot that had loosened when you sat. Marc’s breathing steadied as you crossed the room over to him.

You raised your hand, caressing his face. His skin was warm. Marc leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut. “They don’t know what they’re saying. They’re paid to gossip and lie and misconstrue the truth so that people tune in and listen to their bullshit. There’s a reason they cut off the interview right before I said that the private ceremony was my idea. It doesn’t fit into the false reality they’re trying to construct.”

“I wish people could only watch the interview in full,” Marc muttered. “I hate when little clips get taken out of context.”

“It was a risk we both knew of,” you said. “If it means anything, I saw a lot more good than I did bad.”

Karen’s interview with you and Marc went live earlier that morning. As you had expected, a lot of people had a lot of opinions. Some good, some bad, a whole lot right in between. You tried to focus more on the good, though. It did you no good to look at the naysayers. They wouldn’t change your opinion, your feelings. You loved your fiancés. The kingdom didn’t need to understand that. The kingdom didn’t get to dictate that. 

“Why don’t we go back to wedding planning, hm?” you asked. “I saw a tux in a magazine that I thought you boys would look nice in. I’m not too sure on the fabric, if it’s something you all would feel comfortable in, but I have some pull with the designer. If it isn’t what you like, I could ask him to change it a little. But we need to make the decision today so I can put in a rush order so it’s ready for the ceremony.”

Marc’s mouth lifted at the corners. “You’re too sweet, dove. The world doesn’t deserve you.”

“They don’t deserve you, either, my love.”

You gave Marc a kiss before slipping away to grab the binders and magazines you had been compiling. For the most part, everything for the wedding had been picked out and was nearly ready for the ceremony. The only things that were missing were your dress and your fiancé’s tuxedo. You hadn’t intended to leave them to the last minute, but…Well, nothing had looked quite right. Nothing looked quite like what you were looking for, even though you weren’t entirely sure what it was you wanted. 

When you returned, Marc was sitting on the sofa, waiting for you. You joined him, taking a seat on his lap, balancing the various binders and magazines on your own lap. 

“Looks like we got a lot to go through,” Marc teased. 

“Oh, hush!” you said, giving his shoulder a gentle push. “I just wanted to have options. I want the wedding to be something we all love.”

“Honestly, dove, I don’t care what we pick out as long as I get to call you my wife by the end of the day.” Marc paused, then huffed out a laugh. “Jake agrees, but adds that he also expects a weeklong sex extravaganza afterwards.”

You laughed so hard you snorted. “Perhaps I shouldn’t leave Jake in charge of packing for the honeymoon like I had been planning to.”

“Only if you want to have no clothes and an assortment of toys,” Marc said. 

“Well, now that doesn’t like such a horrible idea so long as he forgets all of your clothes, too.”

Marc’s face tinted pink. He looked away, busying himself by looking at one of the binders you’d brought out. He flipped to a page and paused. He lifted a hand, running a finger along the dress pictured. “…Are you still looking for a dress, dove?”

“I am.”

“What about this one?”

He turned the binder so it faced you. You didn’t understand it, but a feeling washed over you, a feeling you couldn’t quite identify. But it made tears prick at your eyes, your heart swell. 

“It’s perfect. It’s…It’s everything I could want in a dress,” you said. 

Marc smiled. “You would look beautiful in it, too. Truly fit for a Queen.”

You took the binder and held it closer to you so you could get a better look. You didn’t really think about what you were saying, but before you could stop yourself, you said, “I wish my mother wish could have met you. She would have loved all of you.” 

Marc, who had an arm wrapped around you, reached and gave your hip a gentle squeeze. “She’d be proud of you, dove. She’d happy to see you do things that make you happy.”

“I wish she could have been here for this,” you said, the tears starting to overwhelm you. “When I was little and imagined of the day I would marry, I always thought she would be there. Then when she was gone…I didn’t consider what it would feel like for her to not be there. Not until now, really, to be honest.”

Marc was quiet for a moment. Then, he said, “This is more of the sappy sort of thing you’d hear from Steven, but…She will be there, because she lives in you. You keep her spirit alive, dove. Her kindness, her love…It shines through you.”

Your mouth quirked up in a smile. “God, she really would have loved you.”

You stared at your reflection in the mirror, reached down to smooth out the wrinkles in your black dress pants, before grabbing your blazer and putting it over your silky black top. You stared at the mirror, trying to decide if this was the best outfit to wear. Part of you, if you were being honest, wanted to spit in the face of Benjamin’s funeral. (And perhaps you might, when no one was looking.) But part of you knew that this was the last step to you achieving your peace. That if you just got through the day, drowned out the eulogies, and said goodbye to Benjamin for the final time…Well, you might just be alright. So you grit your teeth, slipped your feet into a pair of black pumps, and met Jake in the hallway. 

Jake gave you a gentle smile when he saw you. He reached out his hand, taking your, rubbing his thumb on the top of your hand. “Hey, dove. You look beautiful.”

“You look quite handsome yourself, my love,” you said, admiring his black dress suit. “Media’s going to have a field day with your outfit.”

“Let them. They all already know who wears the pants in this relationship,” Jake teased. He gave you a quick wink, before his smile turned into a smirk. 

“Naughty!” you laughed. “C’mon. We’re already about to be fashionably late.”

“Well, we have to make sure we tick off all the boxes that ensures people don’t focus on the actual funeral,” Jake said. “I think we’re doing a mighty fine job, if you ask me.”

“The next step is to publicly humiliate one of us.”

“I’ll take that one,” Jake said. “I already got the perfect fall planned.”

“Does it end with you accidentally flashing everyone? Because I think that would be a real treat for the whole kingdom.”

Jake let out a full belly laugh. “Now that would the icing on top, wouldn’t it?”

The happiness you felt with Jake, joking and teasing each other, soon wore off as the two of you got to the car, made your way towards the funeral. It was being held in an old cathedral in the center of the capitol. Worship services hadn’t occurred there for nearly half a century. Instead, the cathedral became more of a historical site, offering tours to the public and, on occasion, serving as the venue for royal weddings and funerals. Part of you wanted to spit in the face of traditions and dump Benjamin’s body in an unmarked grave. But, the larger part of you knew that this funeral was the perfect opportunity to say goodbye to your life as you knew it. 

And what a way to do it. When you and Jake arrived at the cathedral, a sizable crowd had gathered. You wondered how many were there to pay their respects versus how many were there just because it was a royal event. Before you got out of the car, you took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. Jake took your hand in his, giving it a squeeze. 

“Ready, dove?”

“Ready, my love.”

Jake got out of the car first, then you followed. You avoided looking at the flashing cameras, keeping your gaze focused on the doors. Just one step, then another. Soon enough, you’ll be inside the doors. One step. One step. One step. The doors opened as you approached. The doormen sank into a bow as you ascended the steps. You offered them a smile as they rose before you passed through the threshold. 

You caught Layla’s eye as you made your way to your seat. Her head nodded once, twice, three times. The plan was a go. Whoever it was that planned to kill you was in the building. Well, that was certainly reassuring. 

Once you took your seat, everything seemed to fade. It was hard to focus on any one thing. You trusted your team to make sure everything went to plan, but you couldn’t stop wondering if you had missed something. It was irrational, of course. Yelena had been thorough in her investigation. There was no chance she would have forgotten something. 

“Her Majesty, the Queen will now come to share a few words.”

Your head lifted. Shoot. You had forgotten about this part in your anxieties about the day. Jake gave your hand a squeeze, whispered to you that you would do well. You rose from your seat, walked up to the podium. You passed by Benjamin’s casket on the way. It was closed—that was the tradition for royal burials, to have the funeral be closed casket. But it was especially needed now. Yelena had conferred with the mortician, gotten pictures of his corpse. You’d seen enough to know it wasn’t a good idea to have his casket open. 

You reached the podium, staring out at the crowd. The cathedral was filled with members of Parliaments, foreign dignitaries, and the like. A few approved journalists were in the front row. You already knew they would lose their minds at what you had to say.

“Thank you all for coming today,” you said. You examined the crowd, took a deep breath, and continued. “People say you shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but no one ever stopped Benjamin when he spoke ill of his family, of his duties, of his responsibilities. His life was a stain on this family. I can’t say that I will miss him now that he’s gone. I don’t know if anyone really will. Benjamin, like most royals, thrived on a pristine public image. People who loved him only loved that image. They do not know the horror he was behind closed doors. Even I never realized how awful it was until I was free from him.”

You looked over at the casket. You swallowed hard. “Part of me feels like I should miss him. You know, the part of me that hears people talk about family is family, that you should love them even when they hurt you. But if there’s anything I’ve learned in recent months, it’s that the family you find can sometimes love you more than the family you were born to. I won’t miss Benjamin. I just won’t. Not when he’s robbed me of my peace for so many years. But now…Now, I’ll finally have my peace.”

“A shame it won’t last long.”

You felt the cool metal of the barrel of a gun pressed to the back of your skull. You felt the hot breath of the man behind you, the weight of his arm around your neck as he held you in a chokehold. You heard the gasps, the screams, the shouts. You saw Jake jump from his seat, shouting at the man behind you. You saw the journalists panicking, caught between concern for their safety and whether they should be focused on getting the story. You watched as Layla raised her radio to her mouth, whispering something to the other guards. 

“No one will ever rob me of my peace again. I won’t let them.”

“You don’t have a choice, Your Highness,” he said, practically spat. 

Your lip curled. You didn’t care for formalities. You never really did. But if the man planned to kill you, he could at least refer to you correctly. “It’s Your Majesty. The King you served is dead, at your own hands.”

“We had nothing to do with that.”

“Just because you say it, doesn’t make it true.”

A swarm of armed Moon Knights descended, surrounding you and the man. Guns were pointed in your direction, aimed at the man behind you. Frenchie stood in front of the Moon Knights, his own gun pointed at the man. 

“Drop your weapon before anyone gets hurt,” Frenchie said. 

“Well, that’s just the point, isn’t it? Why would I stop?”

You heard the click of the man’s weapon as he released the safety. You flinched. Frenchie fired his weapon. The weight on you dropped. You surged forward, was caught in Frenchie’s arms. He passed you to Jake, who had hurried to where you once stood. You refused to look back. You let Jake usher you away. As you were led out the cathedral, you saw the guards apprehending several people. Accomplices, perhaps? You were amazed by the amount of people who had come to kill you. But it was over now. Well, for the most part anyways. 

There was still much to do. Statements would be given to the police. You would need Scott and Yelena’s help in drafting a public statement, too. You would probably take the next few days off, if you could. But as you looked up at Jake, you knew that it would be okay. 

You would finally have your peace. 

The days leading up to the wedding all blurred together. In between wedding preparations and official royal duties, you were dealing with the fallout of your assassination attempt at Benjamin’s funeral. There was a lot on your plate. If you were honest, it felt easy to collapse under the weight of it all. But knowing that you would soon be married to the loves of your life? It made it all worth it. 

“You look beautiful, dove,” Layla said, leaning against the wall as your stylist put the finishing touches on your makeup. 

You fought the urge to smile as the stylist swiped lipstick across your lips. When the stylist capped the tube, you said, “You think so? I worried the dress might be a bit much for a private ceremony.”

“No such thing as too much,” Layla said. She walked over to you, took your hands in hers. “You could never be too much, dove. The boys certainly could never think so. You could walk out there wearing a burlap sack or a dress made entirely from diamonds and they would still think you were the most beautiful woman they’ve ever seen.”

Your face grew warm. “You think so?”

“I know so. I mean, look at yourself, dove. You’re stunning.”

You looked in the mirror, took in your appearance. Your hair was loose, cascading long your back. The stylist had placed a star headpiece on you, the star falling down your hair. It matched well with your dress. It was a beautiful shimmery white with moon and star appliqués, the fabric fading into shimmering jewels as it came passed your chest. A long train-like cape fell passed your shoulders, draping around you. You felt beautiful. 

“Is it time?”

“Each to get out there, huh?” Layla teased. She glanced at her watch. “By the time we get to the gardens, it’ll be close to time to start.”

“Then we shall go.”

Your heart thumped in your chest as you descended the stairs. Your palms felt sweaty. You fought the urge to chew on your lip and inadvertently ruin your makeup. (You had plenty of time to do that when you smothered your soon-to-be husbands with kisses.) You couldn’t believe this day was finally here. You couldn’t believe you were marrying the loves of your life. 

When you reached the bottom of the stairs, Yelena was waiting for you. 

“You look beautiful,” Yelena said as you came to stop in front of her. “Would look more beautiful if your dress had pockets, but beautiful nonetheless.”

You let out a laugh. “I’ll wear a dress with pockets for the public ceremony.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” she said. “Are you ready?”

“I’ve never been more ready for something in my entire life.”

Yelena smiled slightly before leading you and Layla out to the gardens. The three of you stopped just beyond the sights of all the guests. You could see Steven near the start of the aisle.  Frenchie stood with him, seemingly giving Steven a pep talk. Though you didn’t have the best look of him, you couldn’t deny how handsome he looked in the grey dress suit you found for him.

“Did you get to talk to any of them earlier?” you asked Yelena. You knew Marc had been the most nervous for this. He still wasn’t accustomed to public displays of affection. The idea of professing his love in front of so many people scared him, even if he didn’t say anything to you. 

“Marc is doing fine,” Yelena said. “He was fronting when the stylist was getting them ready. Steven was too antsy to sit still, and Jake kept wanting to sneak off to see you. But they’re all excited. They’re all anxious to see you.”

“Good, good,” you said. “You should go take your seat. Layla and I can handle it from here.”

Yelena nodded before walking over to her seat, pausing for a few seconds to say hello to Steven. As you waited for the ceremony to begin, you looked over at Layla. You still couldn’t believe she had agreed to walk you down the aisle. Honestly, you had felt a bit silly asking. You had thought, perhaps, you should’ve just asked Kieran, thought for a fleeting moment that Layla might laugh in your face and tell you to put the task on the one member of your biological family you had left. But, you still weren’t close enough to Kieran to feel comfortable with him. But Layla…She was family, through and through. 

“Thank you for doing this,” you said to her. 

“Stop thanking me, dove. You’re practically my sister. Honestly, I would have been offended if you didn’t ask me.”

“Still, it means a lot to me.”

“I know. It means a lot to me, too.”

In the gardens, you could hear the officiant direct everyone to rise. The music began to play. You watched as Frenchie walked Steven down the aisle, watched as Steven stood under the chuppah, waiting for you. Layla squeezed your hand, before walking you down the aisle. 

When Steven saw you, his mouth fell open. You were pretty sure you could see the tears filling his eyes, even though you were too far away to be sure. He held one of his hands over his mouth as you got closer. God, could he be any sweeter? 

“Good luck,” Layla said as she let you go. 

You walked up to Steven, standing in front of the officiant and across from Steven. “You look quite handsome, my love.”

“And you look like a goddess, my dove.” Steven sniffled, reaching up, caressing your face. “I love you.”

“And I love you. Now let’s get married, yeah?”

“Let’s get married.”

And so the officiant began. 

And so your marriage began. 

And so peace felt so much more real. 

[starryevermore]

do not chastise the dove (23) ✧ steven grant, marc spector, jake lockley

do not chastise the dove ✧ a royal moon knight au | ao3 | pinterest board

pairing: knight!steven grant x fem!princess!reader x knight!marc spector x knight!jake lockley

series summary: you were a princess who would rather be anything but a royal; he was the knight her father forced her to marry—a true match made in hell if there ever was one. but, as the wedding inches closer and closer, it seems that, perhaps, your father had finally done something right by you. 

chapter summary: peace is yours. 

word count: 3,862

warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, very brief smut, oral (f receiving), fluff, pet name (dove), not proofread

Jake’s tongue was pure magic, you decided. Fuck. You could live the rest of your life with his head buried between your thighs and you would die the happiest woman in the world. Jake had stayed true to his word of your honeymoon being a “weeklong sex extravaganza”. From the very second you arrived at the beach house, Jake pounced on you like a depraved man, barely passing through the threshold before taking you over and over and over. Poor Marc and Steven had to fight to get any attention that first night (which, of course, you were more than happy to give them once they were able to front). 

“Fuck, fuck, fuuuck!” you cried out, fingers tangling in Jake’s pretty curls, tugging hard at the roots. “Oh god, I’m gonna—”

“Cum for me, dove,” Jake practically purred, dipping his head to give your clit a harsh suck. “C’mon, know you got another one in you, gimme another one. Be a good girl for me, yeah?”

“Your good girl, ‘m your good girl.”

“So lucky to have you,” he said, scissoring his fingers in your wet pussy. “Can’t believe we got so lucky to have you. Our pretty little dove, sings so pretty for us.”

A loud moan escaped your lips, echoing off the walls of the bedroom. Your back arched off the bed as waves of pleasures washed over you, practically drowning you in the ecstasy. Jake pressed soft kisses to your shaking thighs, leaving a trail of kisses behind as he made his up your body. 

“So perfect, dove, so fucking perfect,” he said, pressing a kiss to your lips. He blinked once, twice, three times before Marc fronted. He looked at you, an amused look on his face. “Jake’s real good at making a mess of you, huh?”

“Oh, hush,” you laughed, pushing at his shoulder so he rolled over off of you, onto his back. You snuggled into his side, humming contentedly as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “You make as big of a mess as him, too. You and Steven both.”

“Yeah, but Jake’s the greedy one, so I get to make fun of him for the results of his greediness,” Marc teased. He kissed the top of your head. “Can’t blame him, though. If he wasn’t so good at shutting me and Steven out when he’s fronting, we’d both be just like him.”

You snorted, knowing that that was the truth. It was almost unnerving how much stamina Jake had. You could only imagine how much more intense the honeymoon would have been if you would have had to deal a more consistent rotation of your husbands. You kissed Marc’s pec, right where his heart was, and said, “I hope you still had fun this week. Steven, too.”

“Of course we did, dove. Seeing you so relaxed is everything we could have wanted for this honeymoon. Even if we took more of a backseat this week, we have a thousand more weeks to come.”

“Oh, so you’re only planning on sticking around for another…what, nineteen, twenty years?” you teased. 

Panic flashed across Marc’s face. Your heart sunk as he stuttered out, “No! N-No, I want to be with you forever. I want an entire lifetime with you!”

“Hey, hey, I was just teasing,” you said, keeping your voice calm. You raised up, adjusting so you were looking Marc in the face. You reached up, caressing his face. “I know you want forever. So do I. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insinuate anything else.”

His breathing started to steady as he nodded. “I’m sorry. I-I didn’t mean to get so worked up. I just…I want you to know I’m all in. You’re it for me, dove. You’re all I could ever want out of a wife.”

You kissed the tip of his nose. “And you’re everything I could want in a husband.”

Marc chewed on his lip, seemingly unsure. He was quiet for a minute, maybe two. You didn’t say anything, wanting to give him the room to talk if he so chose. Finally, he asked, “Even if I’m not sure if I would be a good father?”

“Marc—”

“Because I’m…I’m really scared I won’t be. Sometimes…” He looked away, blinking away the tears that were starting to well up. “Sometimes, I see my mom in me. I see her rage, I see her manipulation. I see how she treated me well until she exploded…I worry that there’s more of her in me than I thought.”

You sat up fully. “Marc, I don’t know your mother, but I can promise you you aren’t anything like her. You care so much. You love so much, even if you’re scared to always show it. I mean, the fact that you’re already so worried about something that hasn’t even happened yet says a lot. If you were an abuser, you wouldn’t care like this. Trust me, Benjamin never once worried if he was a bad father.”

“I don’t know, dove…”

“And even if you weren’t going to be a good father from the start…We can go to parenting classes. We can read books. We can…I mean, if you’re comfortable, you could share your worries at Summer Twilights with me and Jake. I mean, it helped me a lot when I started going. Or we could do individual, like one-on-one therapy. And you’ll have me, and Jake, and Steven. Plus my entire army of a security detail. You won’t be alone with this. We can help you, if you let us.”

“If I ever…” He swallowed hard. “If I ever turn out like her…Throw me out. Okay? Don’t let me stick around. I-I’ll disappear. Let Steven and Jake take control from thereon out.”

“That won’t ever be necessary. You will be a good father, I’m sure of it.”

Marc nodded. He reached up, grabbing at the back of your head, pulling you down to kiss him. “I’ll try. I’ll try to be a good father.”

You settled yourself on his lap, brushing your nose against his. “If you’re half as good of a father as you are a husband, you’ll be amazing.”

“You mean that?”

“More than anything I’ve ever said to you,” you said. You paused. “Well, second to our vows. But a very close second at that.”

Marc laughed, shaking his head, but made no further protests. “So, uh, while I’m still fronting…Do you think you’re up for another round?”

“For you? Anytime.”

The downside to taking a week off was that, when you returned, a mountain of work awaited. For a position that had no substantial power, you mused, there was a lot of work associated with it. Of course, all of the work was of your own choosing. With as many patronages as you had chosen, you should have expected (and you did expect) a heavy workload to be associated with it. Still, like everyone, you liked to complain about things entirely of your own doing. 

The silver-lining, perhaps, was that you got to attend the groundbreaking ceremony for the expansion of Summer Twilights during your first week back at the palace. As the patron, you were invited to the ceremony. You couldn’t be more excited. You only wanted the best for Emil and his work. After all, it was his work that was bringing you closer to healing. It was his work that was helping so many others. And if you could be part of him helping many more…Well, that would be a great honor, indeed. 

“Do you think this looks fine?” you asked, turning so you could get a better look of your reflection in the mirror.

You were wearing cream sweater and an emerald green skirt. It was a simpler look than you typically went for, for an official event. But, it felt right when you first picked it out. Now that it was on, though…Well, your doubts were starting to eat at you. The media picked at everything, after all. From your words to your smile to your now-husbands…You hated to give than any more ammunition than they needed. 

Steven came up behind you, his hands coming to rest on your hips. His head dipped, pressing a kiss to your neck. “You look beautiful, dove.”

You turned, raising a brow. “I thought Jake was the one who was going with me?”

Steven offered you a lopsided smile. “He hogged your time during the honeymoon, I get to hog his pre-official engagement time with you.”

“Silly goose,” you laughed, rolling your eyes. “Didn’t expect you to be the most jealous between the three of you, hm? Well, if you want to make Jake real jealous, you better pucker up and give me a kiss, my love.”

“Your wish is my command.”

Steven wrapped his arms around you and dipped you. He pressed a myriad of kisses around your face before finally coming to the biggest, most passionate kiss he had ever given you. “That do the trick, dove?”

“I don’t know, how much is Jake shouting that he deserved that kiss?” you giggled. 

“Oh, he’s about to give me a migraine with how much he’s shouting.”

“Mm, better give me one last kiss before you go, hm? Don’t want him to make you have a headache.”

Steven kissed you again, but as he kissed you, you felt the shift in his body language. The way his grip tightened, the swipe of his tongue against your lips, the charming desperation in his movements. 

“Hi, Jake,” you cooed when you pulled away. 

“No, no, come back, wanna show Steven how to kiss you senseless,” Jake said, leaning in again, capturing your lips with his. 

You let out a laugh, pulling away again. “There’s plenty of time for that later, my love. We can’t be late for this.”

Jake’s lips fell into a pout. “Can we kiss during the car ride?”

“…We can kiss during the car ride.”

A long make-out session, brief fixing of your lipstick, followed by another wave of kisses later, you and Jake arrived at the groundbreaking ceremony. Jake got out of the car first, holding his hand out for you to take. As you stepped out of the car, you were blinded by the flashes of cameras. You took a breath, then smiled, waving at the photographers. 

“Emil’s pulling out all the stops if he’s rolled out a red carpet,” Jake mused as the two of you walked down the carpet. 

“He deserves to. It’s a big moment,” you said. You reached the end of the carpet, which led to various seats in front of a stage. 

“Y/N, Jake! I’m so glad you could come tonight,”  Emil said, walking up to the two of you, his arms wide open. You dropped Jake’s hand to give Emil a hug, squeezing him tight. “Congratulations, by the way. You’re just glowing with that newlywed bliss, eh?”

“Thank you,” Jake said as you pulled away from the hug. Jake shook Emil’s hand, looking the man over. “You clean up well. Didn’t think I’d ever see the day you wore a suit.”

“What can I say? The occasion called for it.” Emil turned, starting to walk towards the stage. “Come, come. The ceremony is about to begin.”

And so it did. Soon, the chairs were all filled. Some were your fellow Summer Twilights attendees—Jen, Dirk, Alejandro. Some were other mental health professionals. Some were journalists. But, every seat was filled, and every face looked eager. As the ceremony began, you stepped up to the podium, looked out at he crowd. 

“Good afternoon,” you said. “I first want to thank you all for being here today. Summer Twilights is a very important place for my husbands—” whispers fell over the crowd. Though your office had released a statement announcing you and the boys had wed during a private ceremony, this was your first time acknowledging the marriage in public. “—and I. This place, its attendees, and of course, Emil, have been so gracious to us. I don’t think it’s hard to imagine how hard I hit rock bottom in recent months. Everything I once knew had been turned up on its head. It was hard to wake up in the morning. It was hard to go about my day. It was hard to just…be. But Jake brought me here, showed me the kindness that still existed in the world. Emil accepted me here with arms wide open, lended me his shoulder to cry on, and gave his ears to listen to every doubt that crept into my mind. When I became Queen and it became time to announce my patronages, it was only natural that mental health services in general and Summer Twilights specifically were part of that. I’ve only known Emil for a short time, but I know he has big plans for this facility, which I know he’s eager to tell you.” You turned slightly, extending your arm to gesture where Emil sat on the stage. “Ladies and gentleman, I’m proud to introduce my friend, Emil Blonsky, who will share with you those brilliant plans now.”

The crowd clapped as Emil walked up to you. You gave him another hug, before letting him take the podium as you went to your seat. You sat beside Jake, grabbing his hand. You waited for Emil to begin.

Emil cleared his throat, looking at the crowd. He looked back to you and Jake, before looking at the crowd again. “It’s a bit hard to give a speech after the Queen, eh?” The crowd laughed. “Thank you all for being here. Never in a million years did I think I would be able to expand Summer Twilights as quickly as I have. This has been my dream for so long. For it to finally come to fruition…I never thought it would. It’s no secret that I’ve had a bit of a rough go at life. I was fortunate enough to pull through with the help of those around me. Ever since, I’ve been wanting to support others in their difficult times.”

Emil looked at you, smiling slightly. “When Y/N came to me and told me that she wanted to help me with this, I could hardly believe it. But, I knew she meant every word she told me. Y/N is the kindest, most thoughtful person I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. She cares, and she wants to make other people care, too. She is the kind of person who inspires me. She is the kind of person I think we should all strive to be. It has been a honor knowing her, and it has been an even bigger honor to accept her patronage. Because of her charity, I can now proudly begin the ground breaking for the expansion of Summer Twilights.”

Jake squeezed your hand. “You did good, dove.”

“You really think so?”

Jake looked at the proud look on Emil’s face, then back to you. “I mean every word.”

“Do you think the flowers should go there—” you motioned towards the small tables on either side of the doorframe “or there?” you pointed at the longer tables against the wall already adorned with intricate decorations. 

“Um…” Steven considered the two locations. “The tables against the wall? I know I’m likely to run straight into them if they’re by the door. Hate to knock them over, y’know?”

“Good point. Thank you, my love.” You kissed his cheek, then turned toward the workers who were helping you. “Place them on those tables over there, please. Just anywhere that has an open spot. I’m not picky about that.”

Pearl raised a brow at you as the workers scuttled about. “Not picky, hm? Need I remind you how long it took for you to pick out a secretary?”

Your face grew warm. “Well, I’m picky about the people who work for me. I don’t have a rhyme or reason for decoration. Don’t really have a good eye for it.”

Pearl laughed. “Just like your mother. She always said we could decorate the palace however we liked so long as it looked warm and inviting.”

“I’ve missed that. The palace always felt so cold after she passed.” You looked around the dining hall, considering the twinkling lights and shiny portrait frames and flowers galore. “At least things are starting to look up.”

“She would be proud of you, you know,” Pearl said. “For everything. How you stood up for yourself. How kind you are. How you’ve been helping those who are also hurt. She tried her entire life to shield you from Benjamin’s anger. She had known, though, that her time was close to an end, and she worried that Benjamin would snuff out your light. She’d be proud to know that you’re glowing brighter than ever.”

Your mouth twitched into a smile. You stepped forward, wrapping your arms around Pearl. She let out a quiet “oh!” in surprise before returning the hug. “Thank you. You have no how much that means to me.”

“It’s the truth.” Pearl pulled away. “Now go, relax a bit before getting ready for the dinner. We’ll make sure your vision comes to life.”

You thanked Pearl again before slipping your hand into Steven’s and leaving the dining hall together. 

Tonight, you were hosting a dinner as a way to thank all those who aided in your safety. It was a packed guest list, to say the least, but you couldn’t wait to welcome so many people into the palace. It had been oddly quiet—though, perhaps not that oddly. For a long while, there were threats against you looming in the air. The tension was so thick it could be cut with a knife. But now…Now, life was starting to breathed back into the palace’s walls. 

Steven squeezed your hand as you walked the halls together, tugging you close. “You look happy, dove.”

“I wake up every morning in the arms of the men I love, knowing that I’m completely safe. The joy practically oozes from me.”

Steven let out a cough, shaking his head as he muttered that Jake made an inappropriate comment. “I’m glad. You deserve it.”

“So do you, my love.”

“Well, you know what would make me extremely happy? Us putting that big bed of ours to use while we wait for the dinner, eh?” Steven wiggled his eyebrows at you. 

And oh, you were more than happy to oblige.

A few hours later, you and Steven finally left the comfort of your shared bed and returned to the dining hall. Your sweet baby Cleo, who had spent the day lounging in the sunlight streaming in from the tall windows, jumped into Steven’s arms as soon as the two of you entered the room. You let out a laugh, shaking your head at Cleo. 

“You’re daddy’s favorite, aren’t you, hm?” you cooed, scratching behind her ears. She let out a meow! before snuggling further into his arms. “It’s okay, I’d be in your position too right now, if I could.”

“As if anyone who chastise you if you tried.”

You turned your head, seeing the familiar redhead entering the dining room. You smiled and pulled her into a hug as she neared you. “Natasha! I am so glad you could make it!”

“Well, when the Queen calls, you answer,” Natasha said. 

“Speaking of answering…I hope you don’t mind, but there’s someone I would like to introduce you to. Or, rather, re-introduce to,” you said, taking Natasha’s hand and tugging her toward the direction you’d last seen the blonde. 

“I have a feeling I’m going to have to oblige regardless of what I want.”

“No, no, totally your choice. It’s just…I promised your sister I would reacquaint the two of you.”

Natasha paused. “My sister…Yelena? She’s here?”

“She’s my advisor. She helped the boys in Operation Rescue Dove, as they like to call it. After it was over, I owed her,” you said. “She misses you.”

“I’ve missed her, too.”

Yelena looked like a deer caught in the headlights when she saw you and Natasha together. You had expected her to meet the two of you halfway when she saw you coming her way, but she was stuck in her tracks. It wasn’t until you and Natasha were right in front of her that she moved. 

“Nat?” Yelena said, taking a step closer to her sister.

“A little dove told me that she’d been tasked with reacquainting us,” Natasha said. She opened her arms. “If I had known you were here, I would have come sooner.”

Yelena stepped into the hug, wrapping her arms around Natasha’s waist. “You don’t read the tabloids?”

“After the first story run about me called me the Red-Headed Harlot of the Parliament, I decided it was best to avoid those sorts of publications.” 

“I’ll leave you two to it,” you said before slipping away. 

More guests began to arrive and you took the time to talk to them. This part of being a royal was a bit on the exhausting side. Painting on a smile, charming the people around you. At least with these people, though, you didn’t have to put on much of a mask. They knew you in varying degrees, but you knew them all well enough to know that they were safe. That you were safe to show your true face to them. 

As dinner was about to begin, workers setting out plates for all of the guests, you rose to your feet, a glass of champagne in your hand. You looked out at everyone sitting before you. Steven, Layla, Frenchie, Shang. Yelena. Nat, Wanda, Sam, Monica. Jessica, Matt, Foggy. Charlotte, Kieran. Emil, Jen, Dirk, Alejandro, William. Sweet Cleo. Every one of them had helped you get to where you were now. Every one of them helped you, even when some of them didn’t need to. 

You raised your glass. 

“I had every intent to make a long-winded speech about how I appreciate each and every one of you,” you said. “But I think we would be here all night and the dinner would be cold if I did that. Because all of you have done so much. When I thought all hope was lost, each of you helped me, showed me that there was reason to go on. Because of all of you, I no longer have to live my life being chastised, worrying about what the people who wished me ill thought. Because all of you, I can now know peace.”

Steven rose out of his seat, his glass raised, too. “And may that peace last forever and a day. Because we all know what happens when the dove is chastised.”

Your guests cheered, clanking their glasses against each other’s as you sat back down. Dinner began, but you remained unmoved. You wanted to savor this moment, have it forever imprinted in your mind. This was everything you ever could have wanted. Family, love, and peace. 

And no one would ever, ever take it away from you again.

[starryevermore]

do not chastise the dove (20) ✧ steven grant, marc spector, jake lockley

do not chastise the dove ✧ a royal moon knight au | ao3 | pinterest board

pairing: knight!steven grant x fem!princess!reader x knight!marc spector x knight!jake lockley

series summary: you were a princess who would rather be anything but a royal; he was the knight her father forced her to marry—a true match made in hell if there ever was one. but, as the wedding inches closer and closer, it seems that, perhaps, your father had finally done something right by you. 

chapter summary: things get better. 

word count: 4,029

warnings?: benjamin, pet name (dove), not proofread

After the threat made its way into your hands, security at the palace increased tenfold. Well, actually, that was a bit of an exaggeration. Security had increased, sure. But not enough that it would draw attention from the public. The threat needed to be taken seriously, but you, Yelena, and Layla had agreed that word could not spread that you were taking the threat seriously. To do so would give credence to the people who wished to hurt you. They may do bigger, more dangerous things. You couldn’t afford to take such a chance. So, you did things quietly. Layla increased the training security personnel would go through. A few more guards were added to the rounds. More thorough logs were made of who came in and who went out of the palace, of who got very close to the palace. And you…You had decided that it was time to add two more personal bodyguards to your team. 

You had kept just who you were hiring close to your chest. You knew immediately who you wished to hire, and you had extended them the job offer as soon as you made the decision to expand your team. But they hadn’t yet accepted. You didn’t want to go blabbing about who you wished to hire until you were sure it was a done deal. Which, of course, meant that you hadn’t told your fiancés who specifically you had your eye on. They were miffed, and you understood. You had no real reason to not to tell them beyond superstition. But this superstition had a strong hold on you, and you couldn’t figure out any way to loosen it. 

“I worry that there’s no amount of personal guards you can hire that would keep you completely safe,” Marc said.

You looked at him. Marc was sat on the corner of your desk, his back to the door, fully facing you. You reached up, placed your hand on his knee. You rubbed your thumb back and forth. “I can’t deny that. But I also cannot deny that just having Layla by my side will suffice. I’m in a far more public position. There are more eyes on me and, where there are more eyes, there are more targets.”

“Then I’ll go everywhere you go,” Marc said. “Yelena, too. That’s already three people. How’s that any worse than you hiring two complete strangers?”

“Because you and Yelena can’t always be with me. A personal bodyguard is hired for the explicit purpose of being by my side at any and all public engagements. I would be remiss if I thought it appropriate to shoehorn my fiancés into such a position.” You reached for Marc’s hand, bringing it to your mouth. You pressed one, two, three kisses to his knuckles. “Besides, who said I would be hiring two strangers? You should know I only hire people are, first and foremost, qualified, but second, people who I can trust. I can’t afford anything else.”

Marc’s brows furrowed together. His head tilted to the side, an almost confused puppy look on his face. “I don’t understand.”

Knock! Knock!

Instead of answering Marc, you called out, “Come in!” Marc rose to his feet, turning towards the door as the two men you’d offered the job to walked inside your office. “My love, I believe you’re familiar with Jean-Paul DuChamp and Xu Shang-Chi.”

Shang-Chi took a step forward. “You can just call me Shang, Your Majesty.”

“Only if you agree to not use the formalities, Shang,” you said. You looked back to Marc. “See? I wouldn’t be so foolish as to hire complete strangers.”

Marc let out a laugh. “And what I don’t think they’re suitable for the job?”

“Oh, so we’re suitable for a rescue mission but not the full-time position?” Frenchie teased. He threw an arm around Marc’s shoulders, giving him a squeeze. “Come, now. You have no reason to be so bitter.”

“I’m not bitter!”

“If you were ground up and turned into coffee, you would be a dark roast,” Shang said. 

Marc turned to you, his eyes narrowing into a playful glare. “You only hired them so you would have more people to gang up on me.”

“Hmm, that was only a bonus,” you said. “Besides, they haven’t formally accepted the job yet. So you might just get off scot-free.”

“Woah, woah, woah—” Frenchie said. “I’m definitely accepting the job. Have to take every opportunity to get on his nerves, yeah?”

A smile stretched across your face. You stood and walked around your desk, wrapping your arms around Frenchie. “I’m so glad! When you get the chance, you’re going to have to tell me all of the embarrassing stories I know you’re holding on to.”

“What? No!” Marc protested. 

Shang took a step forward. “I might not have any embarrassing stories to exchange, but I’d also be more than happy to be one of your bodyguards.”

Marc narrowed his eyes at Shang. “Well, I’m going to be sure not to do anything embarrassing in front of you then.”

“You should avoid him outright then, my love.”

“You’re lucky I love you too much to pretend to be mad at you.”

You let out a laugh before clapping your hands together. “Well, now that that’s taken care of, your training starts tomorrow morning. I’ll send over information on where to report to and when my this evening.”

“Shouldn’t you have a secretary for that?” Shang asked. 

You let out a groan. “I don’t want to talk about that right now.”

Shang held up his hands in defense, but laughed before bidding farewell. Frenchie hung around for another moment, teasing Marc a little more, before he left, too. With them gone, you turned to Marc, wrapping your arms around his neck, nuzzling your nose against his. A contented sigh escaped your lips. 

Could you stay like this forever? Forget everything and just be? Just be with Marc and Steven and Jake? You were grateful to be Queen, to be able to use your position to do good. You felt an obligation to make up for all of Benjamin’s wrongdoings. But…Well, you couldn’t lie. This wasn’t something you exactly wanted. You had often dreamed of getting out of this whole mess. Of living far, far away from the palace. Of having a simpler life. 

“Do you want this?” you asked Marc. 

His brows pinched together. “Dove, we’ve talked about this. We want to be with you—”

“No, no, not that. Just…Do you want to be Prince Consort? Was this something you wanted? I-I know that you had probably expected living far away from here. Not having all of these responsibilities and obligations and duties. I just…I just want to know this is something you want.”

“I want to be with you.”

“I know that—”

“And if that means we have to take on a few more roles than just husband and father of our children…Well, we don’t mind. We just want to be with you, dove. It doesn’t matter what else comes along.”

But you weren’t satisfied with that. Doubts still tickled in the back of your mind. You couldn’t stop yourself from worrying about a hypothetical future where they would finally get sick and tired of this life and leave you. It was ridiculous, you knew that. But…when the one family member who loved you was dead and the only two family members you had left spent years treating you like the scum of the Earth, it was hard to believe that someone genuinely cared enough to stay. 

Marc leaned in, pressing a kiss to your lips. “We’re here for the long haul, dove. I mean that. Steven means it. Jake means it. You’re going to have to throw us out yourself if you want us to go, and even then, we’ll still want to be by your side.”

“I just worry.”

“I know. But I can promise you, we want to to be with you no matter what.” Marc kissed the tip of your nose. “Now, c’mon. Let’s look at those secretary applications. Who’ve you got it narrowed down to?”

“Well, I was looking at this one guy. He doesn’t have a ton of qualifications, if I’m being honest. But he’s gotten out of prison a few years ago—hey, don’t give me that look! If you looked at his file, you would know that it was more of a Robin Hood sort of thing. You know, steal from the rich, give to the poor. And it was warranted! The company he worked for was scamming its customers, and he was trying to do something right. Besides, he’s a divorced father and he needs to support his daughter—”

“Sounds like you’ve already made your decision, dove,” Marc teased. 

“Oh, just look at his application, would you?”

You nearly laughed when the letter wound up on your desk. Of course, you understood why he might have thought that a letter was more appropriate than perhaps a text or call (or even an email!). But, still, it seemed almost silly in this day and age to write a letter than to use something more technologically advanced. Though, you supposed that might have been more Benjamin’s doing than anything else. Benjamin preferred the more traditional things life had to offer. And Kieran was a sponge, soaking up everything Benjamin gave him. 

Still, you appreciated the letter for all of its silliness. It read:

Y/N, 

I am not entirely sure where we stand, so I apologize if I am out of line in sending this to you. After your testimony at Benjamin’s hearing, I didn’t know if you wanted to speak to me again or not. While I am still unsure, I know that I cannot go on without at least asking if you would like to reconnect. We’ve lost many years of a potentially good relationship because of Benjamin. I would hate if he continued to divide us from behind bars. However, if you would rather rip this letter to shreds and forget I was ever a part of your life, I understand. If you would like to reconnect, please let me know.

Best, 

Kieran

The letter remained unanswered on your desk for two days after its receipt. You had, of course, known what you wished to say, but you struggled with putting the pen to the paper. Kieran had aided in Benjamin’s horrible treatment towards you for so many years. It was a difficult thing to forgive. At the same time, Kieran had shown that he wanted to make up for his wrongdoings. You believed him to be genuine. You wanted him to be genuine. While you had found a new family, you still craved a relationship with the only blood relative you had left. Like Kieran, you wanted to at least try.

So you did. 

You sat on a bench in the garden, Cleo curled up in your lap, purring contentedly as you pet her. Kieran was to arrive at any moment. You fought the urge to bite at your nails. The nerves were getting the best of you. A bit of paranoia was beginning to set in. You life, after all, was still being threatened. How were you to know if Kieran didn’t play a role in that? Could you trust him? How were you to know that this wasn’t some elaborate scheme to finish what Benjamin couldn’t?

“I’m surprised you responded to my letter.”

You lifted your head, watching as Frenchie walked with Kieran.

“If I’m honest, so am I,” you said. Cleo jumped off your lap, so you took the opportunity to stand. “Things are still…tense.”

“Have the threats begun?” Kieran asked. 

You sucked in a breath. Well, at least that suggested he, too, had been threatened while he was the heir apparent. “More than started. Most had been intercepted, but one made its way into the palace. Yelena and Layla think its tied to Benjamin. Yelena has been investigating Benjamin, and she thinks that he’s trying to send out a warning.”

Kieran’s brows furrowed together. “Investigating him? He’s already locked up.”

“He has other crimes to pay for. I’m not the only person he’s hurt. He needs to answer for his wrongdoings.” You turned, starting to walk down the path. Cleo padded alongside you. After watching you for a moment, Kieran jogged to catch up before walking in step with you. “We plan to make an announcement of the investigation this week. Get more eyes on it all, you know. If people know that he’s done more wrong, they’ll be looking out for things. It’ll make it more difficult for his co-conspirators to operate in secret. Or, at least, that’s the intent.”

“So that’s why you hired more guards, I suppose.”

You hummed. “That, and it doesn’t make sense for me to only have one personal guard with as public a position as this. Even without the threats, there’s no reason for me to be naïve about all of this. People will hate me just because they think I stole the Crown from you. Some of them may be bold enough to act on their hatred.”

“I understand. Well, perhaps not to the same extent. Your situation is far more complicated than mine would have been,” Kieran said. “I know that you didn’t really get any guidance on how to do all of this, but…Well, if you have any questions, I can try to help. I don’t know how helpful it would be, since my training was all tainted with Benjamin’s hidden agendas, but I would do my best to aid you.”

“I appreciate that. Thank you,” you said. “How have you been holding up? With everything happening here, I hadn’t considered that you were effectively homeless after I moved back into the palace.”

“It hasn’t been easy. I moved in with a friend from college who had a spare room, and I’ve been trying to find a job. It’s gone as well as you might have expected. People don’t want to hire an ex-prince who, whether he wanted to or not, inadvertently aided in the attempted murder of the Queen. But I did manage to get a few interviews coming up, so I hope it goes well.”

“If it doesn’t, I might be able to find you something to do in the palace.”

“There is a secretary position still open,” Frenchie teased. 

“Oh, I sent out an offer!” you protested. 

“Color me surprised.” Frenchie sent you a playful wink and laughed. 

Kieran said, “I appreciate that. While we’re on the topic of adjusting, how have your fiancés been holding up?”

You let out a sigh. “I think it’s been difficult for them, but they insist that it’s fine. I just know that none of this was what they had bargained for in terms of responsibilities, and then you add in the public opinion of us being together…It’s just a lot. We did an interview with Karen that’s supposed to come out soon. You know, to make it clear that I love them and the naysayers aren’t going to change that. I worry, though, about it being taken out of context. There’s nothing I can do about that, of course. But I just don’t want to make it harder for them.”

Kieran reached out and squeezed your shoulder. “I’m sure it will turn out fine. I think you underestimate how much the public adores you.”

“How long with that last? I don’t want to rely on that and then something happen and it all come crashing down. We’ve seen how the tides can change so easily.”

“You’re also a lot different than past Monarchs. I don’t think you can rely so heavily on past precedent.”

“I suppose not,” you conceded. “Thank you. I get so wrapped up in my head that I lose sight of it all.”

“Mother was the same way. But she always managed to see things through to the end, and so will you.”

You smiled, reaching up to where Kieran’s hand still rested on your shoulder and squeezed. 

“…and, speaking of mothers…If I’m out of line, tell me. Mother will always be my mother, you know. I can’t change the fact that she was the one to raise me. But, I still wonder what it would have been like if Charlotte had been allowed to stay. How things may have been different. But I know nothing about her, so I have nothing to base it off of.”

“Would you like me to introduce the two of you? I had been hoping to have a family dinner soon. You know, if this meeting had worked out, of course. It wouldn’t be any trouble for me to invite Charlotte.”

Kieran smiled. It struck you that you hadn’t ever really seen him smile before. Not really, anyways. Not genuinely. It looked nice on him. “I would appreciate that.”

The two of you continued walking. You looked straight ahead, avoiding Kieran’s gaze, and said, “In the spirit of…having conversations, I was thinking that a big one is still needed.”

“With me?”

You shook your head. 

It dawned on Kieran what you meant. “Oh.” 

“I just thought I would give you the chance to talk me out of it. I know I’ll be hearing a lot of that, and I didn’t want to deny you your fair opportunity.”

“I don’t think anyone could talk you out of anything,” Kieran said. 

“I suppose you’re right.”

“As your advisor, I advise you not to do this.”

You looked over at Yelena. Her face was unreadable, but you could hear the concern laced in her voice. She was good at concealing her emotions, though sometimes it still bled through. “I need to do this for my own peace. Besides, consider it an opportunity to inspect his cell while I’m talking with him.”

Yelena hummed. “I still don’t like it.”

You knew she didn’t. You knew that no one was really keen on you coming here. Well, no. That wasn’t true. You looked over at Marc, who was sitting beside you, his hand resting on your thigh, rubbing small circles with his thumb. Your fiancés understood. Marc, perhaps, most of all. When you told him of what you wanted to do, he gave you his full support. He would want to confront his mother, too, if he was given the chance. Even if it completely ended in disaster, at least you could say you faced your fears and came out the other side. 

“I need to do this. There is no safer way to do this than how I am now.”

“You trust the government officers? After all that’s happened?”

You raised a brow. That was a low blow. She didn’t need to sink so far. You kept your tone even, didn’t reveal the hurt you felt, as you said, “Of course not. But I also have my fiancés, you, Layla, Shang, and Frenchie all by my side. The only way I would be safer is if Matt and Jessica were here, too.”

“Perhaps we should give them a call and see if they’re available.” At your annoyed look, Yelena said, “I just don’t you to be put in a position where you could be hurt. He’s unpredictable. We can’t trust that he won’t find some way to act out.”

“I’m aware, and it is a risk I’m willing to take. I appreciate your advice—it is why I hired you, after all—but I need you to trust me to exercise my best judgment. If there was a single inkling of doubt in my mind that this would be more bad than good, I wouldn’t be here right now.”

Yelena didn’t say anything more. You appreciated that. You knew that she still didn’t agree—the look on her face was evidence enough of that. But at least she knew that you weren’t budging on your position any more than she was. You had bigger things to deal with than arguing with your advisor when neither you nor her was willing to concede. 

Arriving at the jail was a bit of a blur, if you were being honest. You only paid half attention to the entire process. You didn’t exactly want to remember all of this, so you couldn’t find it in yourself to be attentive to every little detail. 

You and your entourage were led into a near-empty room. A couple of the jail’s guards stood by the doors, watching Benjamin closely. He was sat alone at a table, looking oddly smug for a man in an orange jumpsuit. You reached out, grabbing Marc’s hand, as you approached the table. You sank into the seat. Marc sat beside you. 

“Benjamin,” you said. You looked him over. He looked as horrible as he was. His skin had lost some of its color. You supposed that happened when someone’s only allowed an hour of outside time a day. He’d seemed to have lost some weight, too, with the way his jumpsuit seemed to hang off his body. But worst of all, you think, was the look in his eyes. He looked almost like a mad man. “I hope jail life has been treating you as well as you deserve.”

“It’s been better now that the little dove has flown right back into the cage,” Benjamin sneered. 

Marc tensed. You squeezed his hand once, twice, three times. He squeezed your hand back and kept his tone measured as he said, “You have no right to call her that.”

“No one was talking to you, boy.”

“Don’t you dare,” you said. You struggled to keep your anger at bay. You knew why he was doing this. He was trying to get a rise out of you. You refused to give him the satisfaction. “You do not get to act like this anymore. You don’t get to push me and the people I love around anymore. Okay?”

“And you don’t get to come in here, acting high and mighty like a little priss just because you wear the Crown. You have no idea what I’m capable of.” Spit flew from his mouth as he spoke. You fought the urge to cringe.

The corner of your lip twitched. “No, I don’t suppose I know what you’re capable of. But you don’t know what I’m capable of, either. You’ve spent my entire life with a very specific image of me in your mind. You’re too simple-minded to understand that I’m not the little brat you think I am. There is a reason you failed. There is a reason you’ll continue to fail. You’re going to be locked up for a long, long time, and you’ll have to live with the knowledge that I am going to be everything you prevented me from being.”

“We’ll see. There are very bad people in this world. I would…hate to see what would happen if one of those bad people acted on their whims.”

“I’m sure you would. We all know your true feelings. We all know your true motives. You can’t behind this façade anymore.”

Ding!

You pulled your phone from your pocket. It was jail policy that visitors weren’t allowed to bring their phones in, but you were granted an exception. You couldn’t be more grateful, because now you got to deliver the news to him personally.

“Well, would you look at that! Looks like the kingdom is learning just how rotten to the core you really are,” you mused, flipping your phone around for Benjamin to read. “Involvement with sex trafficking? Benjamin, really, that’s no way for a King to act.”

“You little—” Benjamin lunged for you.

Frenchie surged forward, grabbing Benjamin by the collar of his jumpsuit. “If you think this will go over well with the sentencing hearing, you are sorely mistaken.”

Benjamin nearly growled as he looked at you, his eyes even madder. “If you think this is over, you’re mistaken.”

“No, I think I would be right. There is nothing you can do to hurt me anymore. You will never get that satisfaction again. I won’t let you.”

[starryevermore]

do not chastise the dove (21) ✧ steven grant, marc spector, jake lockley

do not chastise the dove ✧ a royal moon knight au | ao3 | pinterest board

pairing: knight!steven grant x fem!princess!reader x knight!marc spector x knight!jake lockley

series summary: you were a princess who would rather be anything but a royal; he was the knight her father forced her to marry—a true match made in hell if there ever was one. but, as the wedding inches closer and closer, it seems that, perhaps, your father had finally done something right by you. 

chapter summary: things get bloodier. 

word count: 2,919

warnings?: a shorter chapter, major character death, mention of sex trafficking, pet name (dove), not proofread 

“—life in prison without parole.”

Jake held your hand as Sam read out Benjamin’s sentence. You let out a breath. Jake knew this wasn’t the time to be offering you comforting word. He knew the media would have a field day if they saw the two of you talking during such a serious time. So instead, he offered you the same comfort Marc often did—he squeezed your hand once, twice, three times. 

If Jake was honest, he thought the sentencing hearing was more of a formality than anything that was particularly necessary. Everyone knew that Benjamin deserved to be thrown in prison and have the key thrown away. But Parliament did have procedures to follow, and so the hearing was held anyways. As the victim of Benjamin’s crimes, your presence was encouraged. You had considered not going, but…Well, even if the hearing was a formality, you had to see this through to the end. You had to make sure that Benjamin never got to see the light of day again. 

Sam banged the gavel on the podium. Benjamin was taken away. The crowd of reporters and spectators rose, talking amongst themselves. You remained where you sat. So did Jake. 

Finally, he asked, “Is everything alright, my dove?”

“I just can’t believe it’s over.”

Harrow had entered a guilty plea just as his trial was set to the begin. Jake figured that the man could see how the tide was turning, that there was hardly a juror in the kingdom who could view his actions in a sympathetic light. Everyone, after all, had seen Benjamin’s trial. They had heard about what Harrow had done to you. They had heard how he tortured you, made you wish you were dead. Even if Harrow could come up with a defense…Anyone with a couple of braincells knew it wouldn’t be enough for a jury to return a verdict of not guilty. 

You looked at Jake. Your eyes were glassy. They seemed to be glassy most days. They were only ever full of peace when the two of you (or Marc or Steven) were in the privacy of your shared bedroom. “I don’t know what to do with myself now. What am I without this torture? Without this pain?”

“Well—” Jake hated to bring it up, but…Well, he didn’t want you to have a false sense of security. Not now. “—there are still the threats that haven’t been dealt with yet.”

“I suppose. But I will be dealing with those sorts of threats for the rest of my life. But Benjamin…I will never have to deal with his torture again.” You let out a sigh, before rising out of your seat. Jake, and your security detail, followed. “I need to say one more thing to Benjamin before he’s taken away.”

Jake nodded and walked with you out of the building. Layla walked on the other side of you, sending a message to the guards escorting Benjamin to not take him away just yet. Jake squeezed your hand again. He didn’t like the idea of you speaking to Benjamin again. He didn’t like the idea of the man being close enough to hurt you again. But…You had to do what you had to do to feel at peace. Jake wasn’t going to deprive you that. What right did he have to do that? All he could do was go with you, support you, make sure you were as safe as possible. 

Benjamin was watching you as you came out of the Parliament building. Jake held your hand a little tighter. He knew something was coming. He knew that Benjamin wasn’t going to go away quietly. There was a reason you were still being threatened, and Jake was damn well sure it was because of Benjamin. 

A crowd had gathered outside the building. Some journalists who couldn’t make it into the actual proceedings, but mostly fans of the monarchy. Or, well, fans of you. The booing and jeering directed at Benjamin swiftly switched to cheers when the spectators saw you descending the marble stairs. You raised your free hand to wave, smiling at them. Jake raised his hand, too, giving a small wave. 

The crowd didn’t react to him. At least, not as strongly as they did to you. Jake didn’t really expect anything, though. The interview had yet to be released—they were still putting the final touches on it. A lot of the public was still wary of him, of the others. They probably always would be. But Jake didn’t want to give them any more reason to hate them. 

“Come to see your poor father off?” Benjamin asked as you neared him. 

“You’re no father of mine,” you said. “You never asked as a father should, so you don’t deserve to be called one.”

Benjamin stuck his lip out into a pout. “You’re breaking your poor, old man’s heart.”

“Good.” You paused, looking him over. “I have to ask: how does it feel, knowing that everything you’ve ever worked for has been destroyed? That the legacy you leave behind is marred by every horrible thing you’ve done? That everything you tried to prevent came to fruition?”

Benjamin stared at you. Jake didn’t like the look in his eyes. There was something sinister there.  Something darker than usual. “Not nearly as bad knowing that everything you’ve worked for will soon be over.”

Your brows furrowed. “Excuse me?”

Benjamin said nothing, his eyes flicking over your shoulder. Jake turned, following his gaze. Panic struck his chest as he saw the glint of metal in one of the windows. A shot rang out. Time moved in slow motion. Jake rammed his body against yours. You hit the side of the prisoner transport vehicle. Jake shielded your body with his.

Blood splattered on your face. It splattered on your white suit. It was a stark contrast, something that made Jake wanted to throw up. Had he moved fast enough? Had he saved you?

Not hers, Steven mumbled. It’s not hers. 

Your nails dug into Jake’s arms. You lifted your head to look over his shoulder. An ear-shattering scream escaped your mouth. Jake held you tighter. Chaos erupted around you. Frenchie was pulling Jake off you. Layla was helping you to your feet. Shang had gone off to stop the sniper from getting away. Yelena was trying to hide the body from your sight.

But Jake could see it clear as day. The pool of blood. The red color staining the orange jumpsuit. The brain matter that now decorated the side of the vehicle. The former king was now dead. 

The former king had been shot. 

The former king had been shot with a bullet intended for you. 

Was this what peace was supposed to be like? 

You had said barely a word in the last week. It worried Steven. It worried them all, actually. You had never been so quiet before. Even when the worst possible things had happened to you, you still wanted to talk. You still had things to say. Now…Now, it was like the life had been sucked out of you. 

Steven had you cradled against his chest as you laid in bed together. You had taken the day off, the demands of your job too hard for your soft heart right now. You felt guilty, Steven could tell, even if you didn’t say the words. You didn’t mourn Benjamin, but…Well, it was almost you. It was almost him. If Jake hadn’t moved when he did…Steven shuddered at the thought. You hadn’t been so close to immediate death before. It hurt. 

“We can still cancel the dinner if you like, dove,” Steven said. 

In order to honor your promise to Kieran, you had planned a family dinner between you, the boys, Kieran, and Charlotte. It was supposed to be a nice, celebratory thing, something for all of you to bond over, after Benjamin and Harrow were put away. Now, it almost felt more like a wake. 

You shook your head. “I have to do it for Kieran.”

“He’ll understand. What happened…That’s nothing anyone should experience. He’ll understand if you need more time to yourself.”

“But it will hurt him.” You sniffled. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“You can be selfish, dove,” Steven said. He smoothed a hand over your hair, pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “What if we…I don’t know, made it a pajama party or something? Something where you didn’t have to dress up and put on a mask?”

You were silent for a moment. Then— “I would like that. I would like that a lot, actually. Thank you, Steven.”

“Anything for you, my dove.”

An hour later, you had left the safety of your cocoon in your bed. Rather than a pristine dress that you would’ve worn the entire day, you were dressed in a pair of sweatpants that you’d stolen from Steven and an oversized sweatshirt. Instead of dressy shoes, your feet were adorned with little bunny slippers. You looked miserable and comfortable all at the same time. All Steven wanted to do when he saw you was drag you back to bed, convince you to postpone the dinner for another day. But you wanted to do this, so instead, Steven wore his own pajamas and went to the dining room with you. 

Charlotte and Kieran were already seated when you and Steven arrived. You paused in your step, looking at the two of them. “I didn’t realize you two were coming so soon. I would have been down here sooner if I had known.”

Charlotte waved her hand, dismissing the thought. “Don’t worry about it. We only got here a few minutes before you.”

You sucked in a breath, ready to argue back, but Steven was surprised to see you only nod and walk to your spot at the head of the table. Steven followed and took the seat beside you. As he sat, he said, “It’s nice to see you both again. I hope you have been doing well. You know, all things considered.”

Kieran spoke first. “It’s been…strange. I almost expected to be more upset about Benjamin’s death. But when I heard news, I just felt…I don’t know. Relieved? Is it wrong to say happy?”

“You can definitely say that here,” you said. “I think I’ve felt worse about not feeling bad at all. That I was relieved it wasn’t me, that it wasn’t my fiancés. When I think about him, though, that he’s not around, it almost feels like…”

“Peace?” Charlotte offered. 

“Yeah. Peace. It feels like I can breathe again.”

Kieran nodded. “I never realized how much he was strangling me until I got away. When I look back on what I’d considered good memories, I realize how much I was walking on eggshells. You know, trying not to upset him so that he didn’t take his anger out on me.”

Your brows pinched together. “I didn’t know he ever took his anger out on you.”

“Neither did I. It was a lot more subtle than how he treated you. But when I look back on it, I remember how he would always make sure I knew that even at my best, I could never be as good as him. How he would push me to do my best even when I was at my breaking point. I thought he was just trying to make me be my best.”

“Instead, he was just a dick,” Steven said. 

Kieran snorted and raised a glass in a toast. “Here’s to the dead dick.”

You raised your glass. “May he suffer now and forevermore.”

When you looked at Steven, you smiled for the first time in a week. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling back, leaning in, and stealing a kiss. He hated it when you felt bad. He hated it when you got so lost in your thoughts that you couldn’t find your way out. But he was glad you were on the path back to being yourself, and Steven intended to be with you every step of the way. 

Knock! Knock!

You raised your head as you called out a “come in!”. The heavy, wooden door creaked open, revealing your secretary, Scott Lang. He gave you a bright smile and wave, before saying, “Yelena’s here to talk about her investigation. And Marc’s here because he heard that Yelena was reporting her findings.”

You gave a nod. “Alright, please send them in. Oh, and would you mind sitting with us while she tells me what she’s found? I would like some notes over it.”

“No problemo!”

Scott was a cheery sort of fellow. You almost wished he had put that on his resumé so that you might have hired him sooner. It didn’t really feel like he was a secretary. It felt like he was a friend. When he was around, it was easy to laugh, it was easy to smile. He didn’t treat you like you were the Queen or like you were his boss. No, he treated you like a friend, and that was something you appreciated. It made you wonder what your life might have been life if you had had a normal life. 

“Hey dove,” Marc said as he walked into the room, Cleo snuggled up in his arms. He walked up to your desk, leaning down to kiss you, before sitting on the edge of the desk. 

“Scott didn’t mention our little baby was here,” you said, cooing at Cleo. She jumped from Marc’s arms, into yours. Your smile grew as you lifted her to rub your nose against hers. “I would’ve had him usher you in sooner.”

“Mew!”

“I missed you, too, baby.”

“Hey, where’s all the excitement to see me?” Marc pouted. 

You let out a laugh. He leaned down for another kiss, which you happily gave. “I’m excited to see you, too, my love.”

Yelena gagged from the doorway. “You too are adorable. It makes me sick.”

“Shh, I love when they’re like this,” Scott said. 

You pulled away from Marc and turned to Yelena. “Come in, sit,” you said, motioning to one of the chairs across from your desk. Yelena sank into one, Scott into the other. “I assume the investigation has gone well if you already have findings for me.”

“They got sloppy after your little announcement,” Yelena said. “When the news reported Benjamin was being investigated for involvement in sex trafficking, they knew they had to act fast to get the attention of them. If the Queen was killed, the investigation would’ve been dropped.”

Marc frowned. “But wouldn’t that mean they could still get caught? Dove’s death would’ve been investigated, the killer would’ve been found, the dominoes would’ve fallen…”

“That’s where the sloppiness came into play,” Yelena said. “They hired a sniper, someone unaffiliated with the group. Get all the details to a minimum and all that. If the killer was caught, it would be difficult to tie it back to them. But then Jake pushed Y/N out of the way, and Benjamin died, and the plan changed. They revealed themselves to the killer, tried to kill him for failing. We found him not long after they left. He was more than happy to tell us everything we needed.”

Your heart thumped, hard, in your chest. You didn’t like the idea of people being hurt because of you—even if those people were trying to hurt you. The world was too cruel for any added pain. “Is he alright?”

“Recovering in the hospital,” Yelena said. “The Attorney General wanted to offer a plea deal in exchange for more information, but she wanted to clear with you first.”

“Tell her to call me tomorrow, and we can discuss the details,” you said. “They’re going to act again, aren’t they? That’s why there might be a plea deal.”

Yelena gave a curt nod. “He didn’t say much about future steps, didn’t want to ruin his chances at getting the deal. But, he said enough for me to recommend increasing security.”

“Increase security? She already has an army surrounding her!” Scott said. When the three of you looked at him, his face flushed red. “Figuratively, of course. And, I mean, she should probably have more security. What do I know?”

“He has a point,” Marc said. “If we make it obvious that we’re increasing security, that’ll tip the group off and they’ll go more into hiding. It’ll more dangerous when they strike then. We need to keep them acting sloppy while we can. The more they mess up, the better prepared we can be.”

“How good are the Moon Knights at being undercover?” you asked Marc. 

“Incredibly good. Scary good.” He paused. “If you’re suggesting that the Moon Knights go undercover, act like regular civilians…”

“There’s too many of them for the public to be intimately familiar with their faces.”

“And they’re stealthy enough that it wouldn’t matter either way,” Marc finished. “I think that could work.”

Yelena nodded. “They wouldn’t expect it. They would think we’re ignorant of the truth, all while we’re prepared to strike back. All we would need is to know when they plan to strike first.”

“Well,” you said, “if they’re wanting to distract from the investigation on Benjamin, the more attention my death would receive, the better it would be for them.”

“What are you thinking?”

“I think that I might die at Benjamin’s funeral.”

[starryevermore]

psst you didn’t hear it from me but do not chastise the dove epilogue comes out tomorrow 🤫

[starryevermore]

I posted 8,157 times in 2022

1,359 posts created (17%)

6,798 posts reblogged (83%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@starryevermore

@annab-nana

@jakelcckley

@winterbaebucky

@golbrockstar

I tagged 4,289 of my posts in 2022

Only 47% of my posts had no tags

#extra extra a fic has been posted! - 990 posts

#signed sealed delivered - 412 posts

#mayoral decree - 379 posts

#steven grant my beloved <33333 - 347 posts

#marc spector my beloved <33333 - 264 posts

#oscar my beloved <333 - 231 posts

#starryevermore - 230 posts

#angst city™ visitors - 223 posts

#starrywrites - 213 posts

#angst city™ residents - 189 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#but also he didn’t even tell me. someone else asked if we were going to prom and i said yes and he turned to me and was like…. about that….

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

do not chastise the dove ✧ a royal moon knight au

you were a princess who would rather be anything but a royal; he was the knight her father forced her to marry—a true match made in hell if there ever was one. but, as the wedding inches closer and closer, it seems that, perhaps, your father had finally done something right by you. (AO3) (pinterest board)

i DO NOT consent to my works being reposted, translated, or published on any third party site or app. if you see my work posted on any platform that is not my tumblr, my wattpad (starryevermore), or my ao3 (illiterate), it has been stolen and reposted without my permission.  

reblogs and feedback encouraged. 

my blog is strictly 18+. by clicking on the links or read more, you are agreeing that you are an adult. any minors found interacting with my blog will be blocked. 

See the full post

298 notes - Posted July 17, 2022

#4

do not chastise the dove (1) ✧ steven grant, marc spector, jake lockley

do not chastise the dove ✧ a royal moon knight au | ao3 | pinterest board

pairing: knight!steven grant x fem!princess!reader x knight!marc spector x knight!jake lockley

series summary: you were a princess who would rather be anything but a royal; he was the knight her father forced her to marry—a true match made in hell if there ever was one. but, as the wedding inches closer and closer, it seems that, perhaps, your father had finally done something right by you. 

chapter summary: you meet your fiancé, but each time you see him, it’s as if he’s a different person. 

word count: 5,267

warnings?: royal au, arranged marriage, abusive father/brother, pet name (dove), not proofread

See the full post

355 notes - Posted July 19, 2022

#3

more hearts than mine ✧ steven grant, marc spector, & jake lockley

angst city™ library | send in a request (consult request faqs first)

pairing: steven grant x fem!reader; marc spector x fem!reader (eventual); jake lockley x fem!reader

summary: marc and jake have made it clear that they don’t like you. but your heart is not the only one being broken by their actions and the consequences that follow. 

word count: 6,945

warnings?: angst city™, probably ooc but i don’t really care, break up, eventual make up, anxiety attack, pet names (love [steven]/baby [marc]/princess [jake, sometimes derogatory but eventually affectionate]), not proofread

See the full post

370 notes - Posted May 18, 2022

#2

not what he thinks ✧ steven grant, marc spector, & jake lockley

angst city™ library | send in a request (consult request faqs first)

request: Hii this is more like an idea than a request you could do it if you're up for it no pressure. Steven has been quite insecure lately and blocked everyone out maybe because he feels Marc and Jake are better than him so he doesn't front which makes the reader worried because he's always so expressive of his emotions(and they're in a established related) even Marc and Jake gets worried and frustrated, and like he heard the reader talking to Marc about how clingy Steven is (she actually loves it but Steven misunderstood he heard only the half thing) sooo uk angst+miscommunication+angsty angst. Andddd finally fluff when they make up orrrr it's up to you if you're feeling a bit like the devil then you could just break our hearts but not Steven's heart pls 😭 - anon

pairing: steven grant x fem!reader x marc spector x jake lockley

summary: steven overhears something, but he doesn’t understand what he heard. 

word count: 2,778

warnings?: angst, miscommunication, steven thinks you think he’s clingy, no happy ending, pet name (baby/princess), not proofread

WHAT HE KNOWS (PART 2)

See the full post

376 notes - Posted May 30, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Hello! May I request a Colby brock imagine where y/n catches him thirsting over her tik toks and/or other social media? Thank you so much 💕

refresh your memory

angst city™ library | send in a request (consult request faqs first)

request: Hello! May I request a Colby brock imagine where y/n catches him thirsting over her tik toks and/or other social media? Thank you so much 💕

pairing: colby brock x fem!reader

word count: 300

warnings?: implied smut, fluff, not proofread

note: i am no longer accepting colby brock requests. the current requests i have in my inbox with be answered, but any more that are sent will be deleted.

See the full post

647 notes - Posted March 6, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[starryevermore]

do not chastise the dove (1) ✧ steven grant, marc spector, jake lockley

do not chastise the dove ✧ a royal moon knight au | ao3 | pinterest board

pairing: knight!steven grant x fem!princess!reader x knight!marc spector x knight!jake lockley

series summary: you were a princess who would rather be anything but a royal; he was the knight her father forced her to marry—a true match made in hell if there ever was one. but, as the wedding inches closer and closer, it seems that, perhaps, your father had finally done something right by you. 

chapter summary: you meet your fiancé, but each time you see him, it’s as if he’s a different person. 

word count: 5,267

warnings?: royal au, arranged marriage, abusive father/brother, pet name (dove), not proofread

If you had a choice, you would rather be anything but a princess. It was not what you wanted. Hundreds of children would die for the opportunity to be a royal, but you? You knew that it was far from what you wanted. As a princess, you had no freedom of your own. At least, no freedom when you lived under your father’s watchful eye. Ever since you were born, he’d kept a close eye on you. Nothing you did was right to him. No matter how much you studied every subject until your head felt like it would explode with the knowledge, memorized the laws of the kingdom to the point you could recite them forwards and backwards and sideways, and oh so carefully walked the line of being a normal twenty-something woman and being a working royal, it was never enough for your dear, old dad. 

You weren’t a particularly rebellious person. At least, not in the way you would see in the Hollywood movies. You didn’t drink heavily, do drugs, go out to wild parties. You didn’t have questionable friends with even more questionable morals. You didn’t stay out late, didn’t disappear for days on end. No, you still fit the mold of a perfect, little goody-goody. You loved wandering the gardens, helping the gardener with tending to the beautiful flowers. Your favorite spot in the palace was the library, often getting lost in the vast expanse of shelves. None of these pastimes, however, were worthy of a princess, as your father would say. 

But, even when you were performing official royal duties, your father would find reason to complain. Princesses don’t kneel down to talk to children. Princesses don’t offer their arm to help the elderly walk. Princesses don’t help grab boxes from tall shelves. Princesses don’t provide commentaries and critiques to visiting foreign dignitaries. And, most of all, princesses don’t speak unless spoken to. He would much rather you fade into the background, be a pretty thing to look at, than be your own person. 

Which, you supposed, was why you found yourself in his office, seated across his desk from him, his advisor Arthur Harrow standing behind him, a twisted smirk on his face. 

You said nothing, waiting for your father— His Royal Highness, Benjamin—or Harrow to speak. You were already in trouble, it seemed. There was no reason to make matters worse for you. 

Benjamin stared at you in silence for several minutes, waiting for you to squirm. But you kept your back straight, hands clasped firmly in your lap, maintaining eye contact until he finally sighed, and said, “I don’t know what to do with you anymore.”

You bit your tongue, knowing that he wanted to protest. If you protested, whatever he had planned would be worse. It was better to keep silent than to poke the bear. 

He hummed. Whether it was in approval or disapproval, you couldn’t tell. It was always hard to tell with him. “I’ve decided that it’s time to make you someone else’s problem.”

“It’s a little late to be sending me to finishing school.” Damn it. There goes the whole don’t-speak-until-he-indicates-for-you-to plan. 

“You’re smarter than that, Your Highness,” Harrow said. He said your highness almost like it was a curse, like he chewed on it, was disgusted by its bitter taste, then spat it back out at you. “You are not going to finishing school.”

Before you could even consider asking what was happening then, you were distracted by Benjamin opening a drawer, fishing out a small, velvet box, setting it in front of you. He waved his hand at it, indicating for you to take it. You picked up the box, opening it to see a shiny lapis lazuli ring. One that you recognized your mother frequently wearing. 

“That was your mother’s ring. Not her engagement ring, mind you. That will go to your brother when he finds a bride of his own,” Benjamin said. “I thought, however, this ring would be best suited for you. The lapis lazuli, it looks like the night sky, does it not? Almost poetic to use that ring as a symbol of your engagement to one of my Moon Knights.”

The Moon Knights were the royal guard, a collection of knights tasked with protecting the crown. You never understood the point of the silly name, but you weren’t in a position to question it, much less change it to something much more simple. You know, like actually calling the royal guard the royal guard. Moon Knights just…They sounded like something that belonged in a middle-grade fantasy book, or perhaps a comic book. It wasn’t a name that struck fear in the hearts of people. If you were the sort of person who intended to harm the royal family, if you heard the name “Moon Knight”, you would assume that the family had no real protection. Though, perhaps it was some sort of irony thing… 

Your stomach dropped. “Engagement?” you repeated. 

“Yes. I have decided that it is time for you to wed. A husband would do you well, make you reign in this rebellious nature, yes? And who would be better up for the task than my best Moon Knight?” Benjamin smiled, as if he was proud of his announcement. You supposed he was. “His name is Marc Spector. You will meet him when he make our official announcement at the end of the week.”

“Should I not meet him before?”

“There is no need. Both of you will be thoroughly briefed on what to say should the press throw any questions your way.” He gestured at the ring again. “Go ahead. Try it on. I went ahead and had it sized, but if it’s still not a perfect fit, I need to know now before the press sees it.”

You took the ring out of the box, sliding it on your left ring finger. You held your hand out to Benjamin, showing him how he fit. He hummed—this time in approval. Or at least, that’s what you hoped. 

“That is all. You’re dismissed,” Benjamin said. “I’ll have Harrow drop off Spector’s file. Have it memorized by Friday morning. We’ll make the official announcement that afternoon.”

You glanced between Benjamin and Harrow and, upon realizing that nothing you said would change their mind, you rose to your feet, gave a curt nod to Benjamin, turned, and left. When you stepped out of the office, you saw your personal bodyguard, Layla, standing by the door, waiting for you.

She took one look at the look on your face, and asked, “Would you like to go to the bookstore, dove?”

You could only shake your head, twisting the ring around your finger. “I think I need to go lie down.”

“Are you sure, dove? The bookstore always cheers you up.”

You turned your head, glancing back at the shut door. “He’s finally done it. He finally got sick of me. I always knew this day would come, but I thought he would be doling out medieval punishments not used in hundreds of years. Though, I suppose this is perhaps medieval in its own right. No one in this family has been forced into an arranged marriage in over a century. Be sure to add this to the ever-growing list of why I’m the family fuck-up.”

And before Layla could say anything more, you walked away, heading to your room, ready to just collapse in your bed and mourn the life you once had.

Friday came sooner than you thought. Though, you supposed time flew when, for the entire week, you hid away in your room, reading over your fiancé’s file as if it were the gospel. While it painted an interesting picture of the man you were to marry and the backstory that Benjamin and Harrow had cooked up, it still left you with many questions. What kind of man was your fiancé? Was he kind? Was he mild-mannered? Was he the kind of man who liked to read? Did he frequent museums? 

You knew you couldn’t ask Benjamin these questions, but there was one person that you could ask. One person who would tell you the truth. One person who wouldn’t hide things from you, unless it was necessary. 

“What do you know of my fiancé?” you asked Layla as one of your stylist fixed your hair for your first official outing with the man who would become your husband. “I’ve only ever heard his name, read the little fact file Harrow brought me. Nothing about him, who he is outside of his job. I don’t even know what he looks like—they didn’t include a picture of him in his file. I want…I need to know what I’m getting into today.”

“Marc is…” Layla paused, choosing her words carefully, “complicated. He’s rough around the edges. The sort of person who you want to throttle just as much as the sort of person you’d like to share a drink with.” 

“How do you know him?” you asked. Then you paused. Perhaps that was too demanding, especially when Layla was the only person you knew who could provide you a perspective on your fiancé. But there was something she wasn’t telling you, something she was hiding. You knew her well enough to know when she wasn’t being totally honest. You added, “If you don’t mind my asking?” 

“You know I don’t mind, dove. He and I, we were trained together when coming to work for the palace. We became, well, not exactly friends…Marc never seemed the type to be friends with people. He was always the lone wolf type. But I was one of the few people he would talk to, and vice versa.” She hesitated, searching your face in the reflection of your mirror, as if she was unsure if she would say what she should say next. “If I may be honest…”

“You know you can be. I trust you with my life, both in the literal I-trust-you-to-save-me way and in the I-would-tell-you-my-deepest-darkest-secrets way. I hope you see me in that same light,” you said. 

“You won’t be sacrificing yourself for me on my watch, dove. That’s my job, remember?” Layla said. Her tone indicated jest, but the raise of her brow, the thin line of her lips told you that if you ever thought of taking a bullet for her, she would come back as a ghost to haunt you til your dying days. “But, as I was saying, I had always thought Marc and I might become…something more. But as we got closer, the more he pushed me away. We slept together once, and that was the nail in the coffin. He never spoke to me again.” She sighed, before continuing, “I don’t say this to hurt you. What happened between him and I is the past, and I never intended to revisit it, nor will I. I only say this because, while I’m sure you would be able to win him over, I don’t want you to be hurt if and when he decides that you’re better apart than together.”

“I’m a big girl, Layla. I…am not stupid. Not about this arrangement. Even if my fiancé does not love me like I’ve always hoped the man I’d marry would, that does not mean I will show him any less kindness.” You looked down at your hands, at the ring that Benjamin had given you to wear. It was, for all intents and purposes, an engagement ring. There had been no official engagement photos released to the public yet—those would come later. First, you had to announce the engagement. Then, you stage the photos to make the engagement seem more legitimate. You felt it was a bit backwards, but what you thought didn’t matter. You were a doll that he was stringing along, posing perfectly in the little doll house, fully subjected to his every whim. “What happened with you and him is the past. I don’t judge you for it, nor do I distrust you because of it. Thank you for telling me. I would rather go into this as fully informed as I can be than be blind-sided down the line.”

Though, if you were being honest, you knew that that secret was not the one she was hiding. There was something bigger. Something more important than her sleeping with the man who would become your fiancé. But you weren’t sure if you should pry. On the one hand, you were marrying this man. You would live with him. You might have to have children with him. If there was something you should know, something you should expect, you would like to know. You would want to be prepared. But, on the other hand, Layla would never hide something from you that would get you hurt. If she was hiding something, it was because it wasn’t something you needed to know. 

The stylist finished with your hair, crossing the room to grab your dress for the event. She pulled a dress from the rack, presenting to you. It was a midi-length, short-sleeved white wrap dress. You loved it—and you knew your father would hate it. If it was up to him, he would have you look like Kate Middleton, have a coat dress in every color of the rainbow. But the battle of the wardrobe was one of the few fronts that Benjamin had accepted defeat of. You still dressed rather modestly, just not as modestly as he would have liked. Though, you wondered if he would find more to critique if you did wear coat dresses. Just another impossibly high standard that you would never be able to reach, you supposed.

As you got dressed, Layla gave you a small smile and said, “You look beautiful, dove.”

“I feel beautiful.” You looked in the full-length mirror, twirling around to examine yourself. “I hope…If there’s anything I can hope to feel on my wedding day, it’s that I at least feel beautiful.”

Layla sighed, stepping closer to you. Something was weighing heavily on her. “I didn’t mean to mislead you, about Marc. He’s a good man. He keeps people at arm’s length, but he would never mistreat you.”

“But he’ll never love me. Not the way I would want my husband to,” you said. “And that’s fine. I don’t expect him to. I imagine he was just as forced into this as I was. Even if my father presented it as a choice…Everyone knows that you don’t deny the king.”

Before Layla could push back any further—

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

She crossed the room, opening the door slightly, using her body as a shield to keep any on-lookers in the hall from peering in at you. “Can I help you, Harrow?” she asked. 

“Everyone is ready. Will the princess be down soon?”

“She needs to put on her shoes and she’ll be ready. We’ll meet you downstairs.”

As Layla spoke, you were already sliding your matching white heels on, giving yourself a final glance in the mirror to ensure that not even a single thread was out of place. Content, you walked to the door, grabbing the door knob, and pulling the door more open. “There is no need. I am ready now,” you said. “Father doesn’t like to wait.”

You left the room, Layla pausing for a moment to stare at Harrow, before catching up to you. She didn’t trust Harrow. She had told you as much when she was first assigned as your guard, back when you were trying to get her to open up to you. (“If this is gonna work well, we need to trust each other,” you’d said. “Tell me something you’ve noticed since being assigned to me, and I’ll tell you about what you need to watch out for.”) To be frank, you agreed with her. There was something shifty in his gaze, something sinister lying in his smirk. His words were careful, calculated, like there was always a double entendre that only he—and your father, it seemed—understood.

You paused, though, as you reached the end of the hall. Who was that, standing at the top of the stairs? You looked back at Layla and she whispered, “That’s Marc. He was supposed to be waiting with your father. He is as impatient as you are, dove.”

“I was going to meet him sooner or later. Better now than in front of my father, when he would be scrutinizing my every action.” You straightened your back and continued to walk towards him, your heels clacking on the marble floors. 

When he turned, you almost stopped again. He was your fiancé? Perhaps…Perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad.

Years ago—it must have been early in his service to the Moon Knights—you had seen him. Every year, on your father’s birthday, a celebration was held. A parade through the capital was part of the festivities. You, Kieran, and Benjamin all sat in the same open carriage (a modern version of one used centuries ago, in the early days of the kingdom), escorted on all sides by the Moon Knights. It was the first year without your mother, and you had tried to convince Benjamin to let you skip the celebrations, tell the people that you were sick. But he made you go anyways. Appearances mattered, and your absence would send the media in a frenzy. 

So, begrudgingly, you went to the parade. You put on a happy face for the crowd, smiling and waving as you passed them by. It was all going well. Benjamin wasn’t chastising you, Kieran wasn’t looking at you as if you were the scum on the bottom of his perfectly polished shoes. Seeing the people’s happy faces was a nice distraction from your persistent grief. But then—an accident almost happened. 

As the carriage passed a family, a little girl broke away from her parents, running up to the carriage, arms reaching out for you. A Moon Knight broke rank, pulling the girl back just before one of the horses could have been spooked. The parade came to an immediate stop and, before Benjamin or Kieran could attempt to stop you, you climbed out of the carriage, walking over to the Moon Knight and child.

“There’s the princess,” the Moon Knight said in an accent you couldn’t quite place, pointing to you as you walked over. “Say hello!”

“Hi, princess!” the child said. “You look very pretty today!”

“You look very pretty today, too! I almost mistook you for a princess yourself. ” You knelt down in front of her, opening your arms for a hug. She immediately launched herself into your embrace, hugging you tight around the neck. “Let’s take you back to your parents, okay? I know my mother always worried when I was gone too long, and I would hate to put your parents through that same pain.”

By the evening, all the newspapers and broadcasts could talk about was how you and the Moon Knight took the little girl back to her parents, spending some time talking to them before you returned to your carriage and the parade returned to its normal course. Benjamin was outraged, as he often was at your actions, but for once you didn’t feel bad about it. All you could think of was how that Moon Knight was, perhaps, one of the kindest you’d ever met. 

Perhaps this marriage, you mused, taking in Marc’s dark curls, warm brown eyes, and well-tailored grey suit, would not be as bad as you thought. 

“I apologize for your wait,” you said when you reached him. 

He rolled his eyes, turning to begin his descent down the stairs. “Let’s make this quick.”

He sounded different than you remembered. But, then again, it had been years. Perhaps you were misremembering. Instead of focusing on that, you said, “…it’s an hour-long interview. That’s the antithesis of quick.”

“Well, let’s not make this any longer than it needs to be.”

You pursed your lips, choosing to bite your tongue instead of retaliating, as you now were in front of Benjamin. Your father looked you over, spinning his finger, indicating for you to spin so he could take in your entire outfit. 

“That wasn’t the dress we approved of,” Benjamin said. 

“You haven’t approved of my clothes in years, Father,” you said, stopping your twirling when you faced him again. “Everything else will go according to plan.”

“Don’t embarrass me.”

“Yes Father.”

He looked at Marc, scanning his outfit before giving a curt nod, allowing you, Marc, and Layla walk out to the car. It was rare that Benjamin let you go to public announcements without him. But, you supposed, dear old dad looking over your shoulder as you announced your engagement was less than ideal. It wouldn’t look good for your public image, he’d say. He was probably right. He knew a lot about public perception of royals.

The car ride was quiet, but thankfully short. You weren’t sure if you could stand Marc’s unnerving stare any longer. At least when the two of you were in front of the camera, you could focus on other things, like making sure you remembered the story. 

When the car stopped in front of the news station, you reached out, grabbing Marc’s hand before he could get out of the car. “Please,” you said, “I know this isn’t ideal, but I can’t mess this up. We have to act like a happy couple during this. Be upset about this later, when there’s no cameras, and I’ll do the same. I…I just can’t let my father down.”

Marc said nothing, but held onto your hand as he got out of the car, helping you out. Paparazzi lined the walkway into the station, and you were quick to paint on your signature smile, waving at the cameras as they flashed, saying hello to the photographers. Marc, surprisingly, fell into his role easily, letting go of your hand so he could place it on your back, leading you into the station. 

Soon, you and Marc were sitting on a loveseat on the soundstage, the interviewer—a lovely woman named Karen—sat in an armchair across from you. You had done a few interviews with her before, and you’d always enjoyed talking to her. She always asked interesting questions, made you feel more like you were having a conversation than being interviewed. 

When the cameras started rolling, she smiled at the camera facing her, saying, “Good morning! We have a very special treat for you today. Our very own Princess Y/N is here with us today, joined by a special someone. A very handsome special someone, I might add. Rumor has it, they have an announcement to make. Your Highness?”

She looked to you, and a camera zoomed in your face. You smiled wide, flashing your pearly white teeth. Not quite sure how to say the words most naturally, in a way that sounded like you, you chose to raise your left hand, the ring facing the camera. “Surprise! A wedding will soon be in our midst!”

“She means to say we’re engaged,” Marc said, His voice didn’t hold the same bitterness as before. He almost sounded more like the man you remembered at the parade. Strange…Had his accent changed? “We’re not here to just show off some beautiful jewelry.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Karen said. “I don’t think anyone even knew you were seeing anyone, Your Highness?”

“You know you can call me Y/N, Karen,” you said. You looked at Marc, then back at her, trying to remember the details of the story your father had given you. “We wanted to keep it…Well, not secret, but—”

“I already share so much of her with the wonderful citizens of this kingdom,” Marc jumped in, seeing your struggle. Hm. You didn’t know him well, but the man you met on the stop of the stairs seemed like he’d rather watch you drown than throw you a lifeline. “Call me selfish, but there were somethings I wanted to be just the two of us.”

“We do love stealing her every chance we get,” Karen laughed. “Tell me, if you don’t mind, how did you two meet?”

You paused, remembering the story Benjamin had given you. Something about meeting at your mother’s funeral, how he had given you a shoulder to cry on. But…Well, the funeral was highly documented. It would be too easy for anyone to see that was false, if they dug back into your history far enough. Before you could stop yourself, you found yourself saying, “It was at my father’s birthday parade a few years ago. The first one after my mother…”

Marc reached over, taking your hand in his, giving it a squeeze. Was he really this good of an actor? Or did he have a heart? His brows were knitted together, likely confused at your switch-up, but he played it off well as concern for you. “It’s okay. Take your time.”

“It was the first one after my mother passed,” you finally managed to say, keeping any tears at bay. “It was hard, being there without her. Even now, I think about how much I want her by my side, guiding me through life. But, that day…It felt like she was still there.”

“How do you mean?” Karen asked. 

“I’m sure everyone remembers the story, how that little girl ran out to our carriage and a Moon Knight stopped her before she could get hurt by one of the horses,” you said. You looked over at Marc, smiling softly. “Marc was the only one who stepped in, who realized what was happening. I just remember getting out of the carriage, and, rather than just taking her back to her parents or yelling at her like other Moon Knights would have, he was making sure she was okay. And, I just thought: Wow. I didn’t think men still acted like prince charmings. I don’t know, it just felt like my mother was there, pointing me to him, showing me to still look for the good in people.”

Marc smiled at you. It seemed genuine. Could it be? “You never told me that story. Here I was, thinking that you met me when I was told to escort you to a meeting with your father.”

“Well, I suppose that was when I was technically introduced to you,” you said. 

And so, the interview continued, you and Marc weaving your own narrative, abandoning the careful path laid for you. And, for once, you didn’t quite care about the consequences. 

That is, not until the next day, when your father slammed a stack of magazines and newspapers print-outs of headlines in front of you. “What is this?” he asked, his nostrils flared wide. 

“…time wasted?” you guessed. “I think the print-outs were a bit overkill.”

Seated beside you, your brother Kieran rolled his eyes. “Be serious for once, sister.”

“You are a disgrace to this family,” Benjamin said. “All you had to do was stick to the script, stick to the story. But, no. You had to be a little rebel. You had to march to the beat of your own drum. You’re a princess, for god’s sake, Y/N! When are you going to start acting like one!?”

“The story had holes in it, Father. I worried that someone would go looking and everything would be exposed—”

“—and worst of all, you dragged Marc down with you. Did you even think about him? Did you even consider what an embarrassment this would be to him?”

“—he seemed fine!”

“That is because he’s a better actor than you, Y/N! You would think he was the royal by blood rather than you,” Benjamin said, spitting the words out like they were acid.

“I don’t even see what the issue is!” you said, looking at the headlines. They were all so kind, talking about how you and Marc looked so in love, a true fairytale come to life. Was this not good press? Was there something you were missing? “Everyone’s so happy about the news! Isn’t this good for the family?”

“You’ve made a mockery for us,” Benjamin said. 

“The press is treating a royal wedding like it’s some circus event,” Kieran added. “Did you even consider how this might affect my own future engagement?”

“Well, no, but you aren’t even seeing anyone—”

“These things last forever!” Kieran snapped. He grabbed a stack of magazines, crumpling them in his hand as he waved them in your face. “I’m going to have to act like a fucking circus monkey when I do get engaged!”

“I didn’t mean to—” you tried saying, flinching as he threw the magazines at you. “I’m sorry!”

There was a knock on the door frame of Benjamin’s office. You turned, your heart dropping as you realized the door hadn’t been shut this entire time. Who knew who had heard what was said? Who knew what the staff would think of you, knowing now that you were the family fuck-up? Everyone probably suspected it, you thought, but now…Now they knew.

And worse yet, your fiancé knew. 

“The photographer is all set up in the garden,” he said.

“You’re dismissed,” Benjamin said to you. “Try not to ruin this.”

You swallowed hard, turning your gaze to the floor. Was there a point in arguing? In trying to defend yourself? “Yes, Father.”

You rose from your seat, the crumpled up magazines falling to the floor. You paused, grabbing them, smoothing over the covers. They had beautiful photos of you and Marc. If you weren’t privy to the information, you would have thought the two of you were actually a happy and in-love couple. You set them on your father’s desk, keeping your gaze to the floor, before walking to where Marc stood. 

You walked past him, heading down the hallway, when you realized that he was still in the doorway. When you turned, you realized he was saying something.

“She’s trying her best.”

And you were so genuinely touched that you didn’t even notice that his accent was different when he spoke. What had changed? The man you saw on the top of the stairs was so different than the one in front of you now. And, oddly still, he was different from the man at the parade and the man in the interview. It was almost like he was three entirely different people. 

“She should be doing her best,” your father said. “A princess doesn’t try. She only succeeds.”

Before Marc could push back any further, you said, “We should be going. We shouldn’t waste the photographer’s time.”

Marc nodded, walking over to you. He placed his hand on the small of your back, leading you out to the garden. When you looked up at him, his face was more relaxed, less tense. His eyes were wider as he gazed down at you. He was a far cry from the man you saw the day before. “You’ll be okay,” he said, his voice just barely a whisper. 

And you so desperately wanted to be okay. Perhaps, one day. But, you supposed, you never would be, not when you were still a princess. 

[starryevermore]

do not chastise the dove (4) ✧ steven grant, marc spector, jake lockley

do not chastise the dove ✧ a royal moon knight au | ao3 | pinterest board

pairing: knight!steven grant x fem!princess!reader x knight!marc spector x knight!jake lockley

series summary: you were a princess who would rather be anything but a royal; he was the knight her father forced her to marry—a true match made in hell if there ever was one. but, as the wedding inches closer and closer, it seems that, perhaps, your father had finally done something right by you. 

chapter summary: things get much, much worse. 

word count: 4,028

warnings?: royal au, arranged marriage, mention of affair, mention of illegitimate child, mention of assassination attempt, mention of demonization of did, pet name (dove), not proofread

It was almost strange, leaving the hospital. The doctors had kept you there for a couple days out of an abundance of caution. You figured that they didn’t want to have to deal with the potential fallout of “PRINCESS DIES UPON BEING RELEASED PREMATURELY AFTER POISONING”. You couldn’t say you blamed them. It wasn’t so bad, though. Being in the hospital, you mean. 

For the most part, it was just you and your fiancés. While it took you a little bit to be wrap your head around the idea that your fiancé was a system of three people, it didn’t come as too much of a surprise. It certainly explained why sometimes it seemed like he was three totally different people. You, however, had yet to meet Steven or Jake. Marc insisted on fronting your entire stay at the hospital. It was better that way. After someone tried to kill you, everyone was being viewed as a possible suspect. And his DID…Well, people are fearful first and logical last. He, and Steven and Jake, did not need the magnifying glass to be placed on them and their lives. 

You figured, though, you would be meeting them soon enough. Marc was going with you to the safe house—him and Layla (who, as it turned out, knew about Marc’s DID). At the safe house, there would be privacy for your fiancés to be themselves. Though…there was some privacy in the car. You knew that, with the divider up, the driver wouldn’t be able to hear anything the two of you said. It was your father’s idea—in case he wanted to discuss politics in the car and didn’t want too many people to know what he was playing. 

And you planned to use that to your advantage.

You turned to Marc, a teasing smile on your face, as you said, “I wonder if my father realized he was inadvertently making me a whore by arranging a marriage with three men.”

Marc’s face dropped, his eyes going wider at your words. You watched him, curious. Did this mean someone else was fronting now? You wondered which alter you would be formally meeting. “Oi! Don’t call yourself a whore!” he said in a British accent, his face twisting up like he’d just eaten a lemon. “You’re absolutely lovely! Don’t joke about things like that!”

You were surprised to have upset him that easily. Quickly, you reached out, grabbing his hand, holding it tight. The last thing you wanted was for him to be upset with you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. It was just meant to be a harmless joke, but I won’t do that again.” You ran your thumb over the top of his hand, before deciding to interlace your fingers with his. “So, are you Jake or Steven?”

“Steven Grant,” he said, his breathing steadying as he held onto your hand. Carefully, he lifted your connected hands to his lips, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your hand before kissing each of your fingers. “Sorry. I didn’t meant to shout at ya. I just don’t like it when anyone talks badly about you. Even if you’re the one doing the bad-talking.”

“I’ve gathered that,” you said with a light giggle. “Well, now that I know it was you, I want to thank you for standing up to my father the other day. When you told him I was trying my best? That really meant a lot to me, especially when we barely knew each other at the time.”

A smiled curled across Steven’s face. “Just bein’ honest,” Steven said. “I don’t like the way he speaks to ya. None of us do, if ‘m being honest. If he wasn’t the king, I would’ve planted one on ‘im.”

You let out a snort, surprising yourself. Quickly, you raised the hand that wasn’t holding Steven’s to your mouth, concealing your giggles. “I would have paid good money to see that,” you laughed. “I know I shouldn’t say stuff like this, but…Sometimes I wish someone would put him in his place. You know, like how we used to have court jesters who’s only job was to make fun of the king.”

“Well, if it would make you smile and laugh like you just did, I would gladly be your court jester any day of the week, dove.”

The car finally came to a stop, the driver coming around a few moments later, opening the door. You looked at Steven, watching as his face became more tense, Marc making his appearance once more. Marc got out of the car first, sticking his hand out for you to take. He helped you out of the car, and you took a moment to take in your surroundings. 

Based on how long the car ride was, you were still within the capital. It was more on the outskirts, you guessed as you took in the large expanse of trees shielding the house from all sides. It didn’t feel very safe, if you were being honest. The entire set up reminded you of a horror movie, where a young woman goes out to a cabin in the woods and ends up brutally murdered. But, when you glanced at Marc at your side and then at Layla by the cabin’s front door, you supposed there wasn’t anyone safer to be with. 

Marc laced his fingers with yours and the two of you walked up the path to the cabin. “Layla’s already had everything you’ll need moved here,” he said. “…I threw in a couple of things, too.”

“Oh? Like what?” you asked. 

“That photo album I told you about. Partly because it had pictures of your mom and I figured that would lift your spirits, partly because I thought that…” He let out a sigh, shaking his head. “You’ll think I’m crazy, but…I worry that someone in the palace had something to do with you being poisoned. And if I’m right that the maid in the picture was related to it somehow, I worried that someone might find the album and destroy it. Without that original picture…I don’t know if anyone would believe anything we find.”

You nodded, humming quietly. “Makes sense. Good thinking.”

“It was Jake’s idea,” Marc said. 

“Thank you, Jake,” you said. Marc had explained that Steven and Jake sometimes hung around, was able to hear things that were being said. You weren’t sure if Jake was around at the moment, but even if he wasn’t, you were sure Marc would relay the message to him later. 

The two of you reached Layla at the door, who grinned ear to ear when she saw you. Her arms were wrapped around you in an instant, pulling you close. You laughed softly as she hugged you. It had been too long since she was able to. While you were in the hospital, it was difficult for you to move with all the medication they’d put you on. The most she could do was hold your hand. To be hugged again, finally…it was nice. 

“I’m going to have to wrap you up in bubblewrap, dove,” she said. “It's probably the only way to keep you safe.”

“I don’t know how that’ll help against poison,” you laughed, “but I appreciate the sentiment.”

“C’mon, let’s get inside,” Marc said as the two of you pulled apart. “You need your rest, dove.”

“I’ve just spent who knows how long in the hospital resting!” you protested. 

“And you’re not at your full strength yet, dove. Baby steps, baby steps.”

“He's right,” Layla said. “Let’s go to the living room.”

Layla led you and Marc into the cabin. It was charming, if you were being honest. A far cry from the palace you were born and raised in. You found yourself loving the simple hardwood floors, the plain couch and armchairs, the seemingly handcrafted tables. You sank into the couch, Marc sitting beside you. His hand rested on your thigh, your face growing warm at the action. (Would you ever become used to such a charming man touching you?) Layla sat in an armchair across from you, leaning forward, elbows resting on your knees. 

“I didn’t want to bombard you before, dove,” Layla said, “but, please, is there anything…odd that you remembered about that night? Anything out of place, anyone acting strangely?”

“Isn’t this already being investigated by my father? And Marc’s friend?”

Marc nodded. “Technically, yes, regarding your father. Everything there is coming up as a dead end. I have to question the authenticity of that. As for Jessica…She’s hoping to come by later in the week, when she has a few more things taken care of.”

You sighed, brows furrowing together, trying to sort through your very fuzzy memories of the day. Everything had seemed so normal. How were you to figure out what was weird in the moment, weird in retrospect? How could you trust that you were remembering things correctly? “I mean, the wine, obviously. How I was the only one served it. But I’m sure that was already being considered,” you said. 

“Anything helps,” Layla said. “Take your time.”

“I mean…The only other thing was you…” you trailed off, your heart skipping a beat. “No, he couldn’t…Could he?”

“What is it?” Marc asked. 

“My father,” you said. “He…was kind to me. I don’t remember the last time he had ever smiled at me, hugged me. Usually, the best he ever shows me is cold indifference. But that day, it was almost like we were a happy family. Things finally seemed so right that…Well, it felt wrong. But, he’s my father. He wouldn’t ever try to hurt me, would he?”

Layla and Marc shared a glance before Marc said, “Would it really be so unbelievable?”

“…no. No, it wouldn’t.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Layla asked, watching as you did your own hair for the first time in…years, probably. When you were younger, your mother always insisted on doing your hair. After she passed, you learned how to recreate her styles on your own. Somehow, it got out to the media that the lonely princess did her own hair. Your father, per usual, threw a fit, and you’d had a stylist do it ever since. “No one will fault you if you choose to cancel.”

“I can’t just stay here and wait for something to happen,” you said. “If my father is truly behind all of this, there is no safe house for me. If he wants to harm me, he will. If anything, it might be more beneficial for me to keep moving. If I’m just a sitting duck, it’s easier for him to strike.”

“But if you stick to the schedule, he’ll still know when to hit,” Layla said. 

“And that’s why I won’t stick to the schedule,” you explained. “I go to this event, I miss the next two. I go to an event, skip the next, go to the one after. Keep switching it up for however long it takes. If their investigation comes up with nothing, which I’m sure it will, I can keep playing the sympathy card, say that there were threats against my safety.”

You rose from your chair, turning to walk to the wardrobe. You didn’t have many clothing options here, but Layla had brought most of your favorites. Shedding the robe you were wearing, you elected to wear a loose fitting blue and white stripped shirt and a pair of white, wide-legged trousers. You were sure you’d be hearing from your father for wearing such an outfit out. Well, actually, you weren’t so sure. It had been a few days since you left the hospital. You hadn’t heard a single word from him, not even a call to tell you what you could and could not do. You didn’t even see him that much at the hospital, either. 

Did he even care? What kind of face was he putting on for the press? Concerned father? Stoic king? How was the press reporting things? You hadn’t looked at the news lately. You didn’t think it would do you any good, not as you were still healing. But now…Now the curiosity was weighing heavily on you. 

Just as you were itching for your phone, there was a knock on the door. 

Layla opened it, revealing your fiancé. 

“Hope I’m not intruding,” he said. He sounded different than Marc and Steven. The one who had the accent that was almost like Marc’s but not quite. The only alter you hadn’t met yet.

“Not intruding at all, Jake,” you said. “Was just about to grab some shoes and I’d be ready to go.”

Jake smiled from ear to ear, showing off his pretty dimples, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You knew who I was?”

“It’s easy to pick up on the differences,” you explained, turning back to the wardrobe, picking up a pair of blue heels. “I mean, as long as you know there are differences, you know?”

He stepped into the room, walking up to you as you slipped on your heels. When you fully rose back up, his hands came to rest on your waist, holding you close to him. He dipped his head, his nose nudging against yours. “It’s a pleasure to formally meet you, dove.”

Layla cleared her throat, making you jump out of Jake’s arms. “As cute as the two of you are, I would like to remind you we do have an event we’re heading to. One that you insisted upon going to, dove,” she teased. “Unless you’d rather stay here and be cute together, in which case I would like to know so I can go run and hide in the woods.”

Jake reached out, caressing your face, turning your head to look more towards him. “I wouldn’t be opposed to staying here with you, dove.”

“I need to get out,” you said. “I’m going to lose my mind if I have to stay here, waiting, for any longer.”

He nodded. “Alright. Then we’ll go.”

Jake reached down, intertwining his fingers with yours, a gentle smile still on his face. It was the kind of smile that made you want to stay with him, to talk and talk and talk (or…maybe kiss and kiss and kiss until you couldn’t breathe anymore). But you still had a duty. You still had an obligation. And you were still going fucking stir crazy. 

Layla left the room first, you and Jake following behind her. The three of you left the house, Layla locking the door behind her. You frowned when you saw the car wasn’t there. Your driver was never late, not even if there was traffic. He always made a point of showing up at least fifteen minutes early. Where was he now? Had something happened?

Sensing your unease, Layla said, “It might just be the traffic. He’s not as accustomed to driving all the way out here.”

“I don’t feel good about this, Layla,” you said, squeezing Jake’s hand tight without really meaning to. 

“I’ll call him, see if he’s en route,” Layla said. She fished her phone from her pocket, scrolling through her contacts until she landed on your driver. When she clicked on his number, the phone rang once, and once only. “Strange. He sent me to voicemail. I’ll try again.”

The same happened again.

And again. 

And again.

“…okay, something might not be right,” Layla finally admitted. 

Jake’s face tensed, and you recognized Marc as he fronted. “If something’s not right, we need to get out here. We can’t be sitting ducks.”

DING! DING! DING!

Yours, Layla’s, and Marc’s phones all went off at the same time. Shit. That couldn’t be a good sign at all. Biting down on your lip, you finally looked down at your phone, reading the notification, your stomach dropping. 

SUSPECT IN PRINCESS POISONING IDENTIFIED: HER FIANCÉ!

“Shit,” Marc swore. 

“This is not good at all,” Layla said.

“What are we supposed to do?”

But before the three of you could dwell further on what was happening, a car came barreling down the dirt road, pulling to a stop in front of the safe house, the tinted window rolled down. A pale woman with dark hair and a no-bullshit look on her face stared back at you. “Get in,” she said. “I’ll explain on the way.”

“We’ll have to lay low,” Jessica finally said. She had been driving in silence the entire time, and no one else dared to say anything. You were secretly grateful for the silence. You needed a moment to collect your thoughts. “With a headline like that, everybody and their mother is gonna be looking to kill Mr. Moon Knight over here. Luckily, we won’t have to make stops along the way.”

Marc, who sat beside you in the back seat, turned to you, and said, “Dove, this is Jessica Jones, the one who was investigating the photo and the poisoning.”

“It’s nice to meet you.”

Jessica snorted. “Sure it is. Anyways, I was supposed to show up sooner, but Mr. Moon Knight forgot to tell me where the safe house was.”

“We were a little busy with other things,” Marc said. 

Your phone dinged again. It had been an hour, maybe an hour and a half, since the last notification. The news sites were blowing up with the faux revelation that Marc was the one who attempted to kill you. All were reporting on him, who he was before he was announced as fiancé, analyzing his few media appearances to try and find signs that he had secretly been a psychopath the entire time, painting an entirely false picture of the men you came to know. 

This headline read: BREAKING NEWS: PRINCESS GONE MISSING!

“This isn’t getting any better,” you said. “They know we’re gone. Soon, it’ll be impossible to travel anywhere. All the roads will shut down, all of law enforcement will be out trying to find me. They’re the kind of people to shoot first, ask questions later.”

“Fantastic,” Jessica muttered. “We’re almost there. About fifteen minutes out.”

“Where are we going?” Layla, from the front passenger seat, asked. “Can we at least know that?”

Jessica reached up to the visor above her, pulling out the picture of the maid. She passed it to Layla, explaining, “I found her.”

“Really? Who is she?” you asked. 

“The king's mistress. The mother of one of his children,” she said.

Your grip on the photo album tightened. You ran into the safe house and grabbed it when Jessica showed up, knowing it to be too important to leave behind. Marc had already risked a lot getting it to the safe house, you were sure. You weren’t about to leave it behind. 

“There’s pictures of her mother pregnant with her—” Layla began.

“Not her. Her brother.” She glanced at you in the rearview mirror. “Which is why they conspired to kill you.”

The car fell silent again. Then Marc swore under his breath, muttering a string of curses you were half certain were made-up words he’d come up with. 

“How does that make any sense?” Layla asked. 

“Because, if Kieran were illegitimate, then he couldn’t be heir to the throne,” you said. “But, if he were the only child of the king left…No one would say anything. No one could contest the throne, because there would be no other heir.”

“I thought that only the male children of the king could inherit the throne?” Marc asked. 

“Not anymore,” Jessica said. 

“The laws changed, just before I was born,” you explained. “Yes, it used to be true that only the men of the family could inherit the throne. But when my mother was still pregnant with me, the former Prime Minister Rogers passed a law that stated any legitimate heir, regardless of gender, could take the throne. The only thing that mattered was that the child not be…Well, a bastard.”

Marc sucked in a breath. “So, if Kieran was the product of an affair…”

“Then he’s illegitimate and cannot be king,” you finished. “Which means—”

“—you’re the true heir to the throne.”

“Before the laws changed, Father probably thought that since there was no way I could become queen, that he could still hide behind his affair and no one would be the wiser,” you realized. “But I don’t see why it’s taken him til now to do something.”

“It’s obvious,” Jessica chimed in. “I mean, as much as I loathe the royal institution, even I can’t deny that you’re beloved by the kingdom at large, just as your mother was. As long as the queen was alive, you were untouchable. She knew the truth, and she could use that against the king. After she died, they finally had an opening.”

You nodded along. That made sense. You were practically glued to your mother’s hip your entire childhood. By the time you were a teenager and eventually entered early adulthood, she was easily your best friend. Your father was less cruel when she was around, and after she passed, it was like a switch had flipped. You thought it to be grief, but now you knew the truth. Except, well, it wasn’t completely clicking for you. “But it’s been years since she passed. I still don’t understand why they waited.”

“Like I said, you’re beloved,” Jessica said. “If they did it too soon, royal watchers would get suspicious, even if it was the cleanest kill they could manage. After all, two royals die that close together? And not just any two royals, but the queen and the princess? Enough time had to pass for it to seem unrelated. Even then, it had to be under the right circumstances.”

You glanced at Marc without meaning to. 

“And that’s why they did this whole arranged marriage thing,” Marc finished, the puzzle pieces starting to fit together. “Harrow…I never knew for sure if he knew about the others. But I figured he’d been suspicious for a long while now. He used to be a Moon Knight, I used to work with him before he became the king’s advisor. They always meant to pin it on me, make me out to be some lunatic with voices in his head. When you didn’t die, it put a slight wrench in the plan.”

“But that’s the furthest from the truth, and anyone who knew you would say otherwise—” you argued. 

“But that’s the thing, isn’t it? No one really knows me besides you and Layla. If they had succeeded, you wouldn’t be there to argue I was good. And Layla…I’m sure they would’ve found a way to make her seem complicit.” Marc shook his head. “Since their plan failed, I’m sure they were planning to paint it as me manipulating you into trusting me or some shit, that I fucked with your head. I’d get carted away, but not before they actually succeeded in killing you. And I’d be the one still stuck with the blame.”

“It would have been the perfect plan,” Jessica said. “They’d gotten rid of nearly all the evidence that the maid—her name’s Charlotte, by the way—ever even existed. All that was left was the copy of the photo Marc gave me, and the original in that photo album. It was damn near impossible to find anything. The king paid off a lot of people.”

“But you said you found her,” you said. 

Jessica pulled into a long, gravel driveway, driving towards a small house in the distance. “I did.”

“…where are you taking us?”

“If you ever wanted the truth to be put out there and believed…You would need the source. The only person left with all the evidence that would prove your father was a liar, a cheater, and an attempted killer.”

As you got closer to the house, you saw a woman standing out on the porch. She lifted her hand, waving at the car. 

“Does that mean…”

“It’s time to meet Charlotte.”

[starryevermore]

do not chastise the dove (8) ✧ steven grant, marc spector, jake lockley

do not chastise the dove ✧ a royal moon knight au | ao3 | pinterest board

pairing: knight!steven grant x fem!princess!reader x knight!marc spector x knight!jake lockley

series summary: you were a princess who would rather be anything but a royal; he was the knight her father forced her to marry—a true match made in hell if there ever was one. but, as the wedding inches closer and closer, it seems that, perhaps, your father had finally done something right by you. 

chapter summary: the last thing the boys are going to do is sit on their ass and wait for someone else to rescue you. 

word count: 4,248

warnings?: not proofread

“We’re not waiting for them to do something,” Marc said. 

Layla looked at him, her exhaustion clear in her eyes. It had been four hours, thirty minutes, and twenty-eight seconds since the call with Prime Minister Wilson. The appropriate law enforcement had been notified, the capital and its surrounding cities had been put on lockdown. But neither Layla nor Marc were allowed to be part of the investigation. They were too close, they’d been told. Their emotions would cloud their judgment. If they were needed, they’d be notified. Otherwise…They had to sit and wait. 

And that’s what they had done for the last four hours, thirty-one minutes, and fifteen seconds. Marc was sick of it. He couldn’t stand the arguing from Steven and Jake, Jake who was insistent that they raise hell until you were found and Steven who was shouting that they had to find you, they needed to find you, you were counting on them. It took everything in Marc to not rip his hair out from the roots between them and his own inner turmoil. 

We need to get her, Marc. We need to save her, Steven said. She already thinks we’re gonna leave her. We can’t let her think we’ll leave her for dead. 

I know Steven, Marc said back. I know that as well as you do. But we need Layla’s support in this. So we have to be careful, okay?

Layla will go along with it, Jake said. Just tell her what you’re planning, and she’ll agree. Okay? She’s a smart woman. She cares about our dove as much as we do. She’ll do what’s right.

Marc hated when Jake was so self-assured. It almost made him miss the days when Jake was the strong, silent type, the alter who only fronted when necessary. But, Marc supposed they needed this kind of self-assurance. This plan wasn’t going to work if any of them had doubts, after all.  

“And do what, Marc? March up to the palace, break down the door, and threaten the king until he gives us the information we want?” Layla fought the urge to roll her eyes. “It’s the king’s plan, sure. But he’s smart. Conniving. He says he wants something done, but he doesn’t want to know the details. Hell, I’m sure he’s very careful about wording the things he wants done so that he can avoid liability. He’s a bad man, yes, but he’s a smart one, too.”

“You think I don’t know that? I do, Layla. I do. And that’s why we need to be out there, looking for her.” Marc ran his fingers through his hair. His curls had smoothed out, more frizz than curl now, from the amount of times he’s tugged at his roots, combed his fingers through his hair, tried to busy his hands so his mind didn’t run wild. “We need to be out there.”

“Marc…We’re just two people. And whoever the king’s hired, they’ll be looking for us. They won’t let us get too close.”

“Then we’ll get help.”

“Like who? Jessica? She might be some help. She might be able to narrow things down. But for a rescue op? I don’t know—”

“Don’t doubt her. There’s a lot more to her than meets the eye,” Marc said. “But we’ll need more than just her. We’ll need a team.”

“Like that old team the former prime minister was on? What was that called? The Avengers? You know I hesitate to use the word, but Marc, you’re insane if you think that would work.”

Marc raised a brow. “Call me insane all you like. I don’t see you coming up with a better plan.”

Layla fell back into the couch, rubbing her face with her hands. She let out a groan, but said nothing. Marc knew she didn’t have a better plan. He knew she probably wouldn’t be able to come up with one. She probably had had the same plan, if he was being honest. But between the two of them, she was trying to be the rational one. They couldn’t just run into this. They had to think this through. If one thing went wrong…It was game over. 

“Who are you thinking of?” she finally asked. 

“I think they got Y/N out of the city long before anyone was alerted to her absence. We might need a pilot to get there, and I know just the guy.”

Jean-Paul “Frenchie” DuChamp was Marc’s closest friend. Recruiting him would be as simple as asking the question “Would you help me?”. Frenchie would probably travel to the ends of the Earth if it meant helping his friend, and Marc would do the same. He was one of the few people Marc would trust with his life. And now, he needed to trust Frenchie with yours. 

Frenchie answered the door with a smile and open arms. “I was wondering when you were going to visit,” he said.

“I’ve been busy, with everything,” Marc said. 

“I know, I know. A royal engagement? An assassination attempt? Unearthing a secret plot to pass off a bastard as a future king and to kill the true heir? It’s a wonder that you haven’t gone completely grey.” Frenchie pulled Marc into a hug, patting his back. “I’ve missed you. Have you come to regale another adventure?”

Marc hugged Frenchie back. “Something better, actually. Something worse, really…I need your help.”

Frenchie pulled away, his brow raising. He swore under his breath when he saw the grave look on Marc’s face, the pinched brows and deep frown. “What happened?”

He ushered Marc into his home, shutting the door behind him. Marc waited until he sank into a chair at the dining table, Frenchie sitting across from him. “The princess has been kidnapped,” Marc said. “All things considered, I know it has to be the king’s doing. Layla and I have been asked to stay out of it. But I can’t. Neither of us again.”

“How could you? The same people who are responsible for her being kidnapped are the ones that are investigating,” Frenchie said. At Marc’s raised brow, Frenchie said, “What? I watch the news. It doesn’t take much to put the story together, even with all the details they leave out.”

This was why he liked being around Frenchie. They had been friends so long, it was often like they were on the same wavelength. Marc was almost certain he didn’t have to ask his question, that Frenchie was on the verge of volunteering. But he wanted to ask. 

“I’m putting some people together to help find Y/N. I…By the time we realized she had been taken, nearly three hours had passed. The city and the surrounding areas are shut down now, but I think they were able to get away before then.” Marc let out a breath. “I need a pilot, a damn good one at that, who can get us out without alerting anyone. And there’s no one more capable than you.”

Frenchie let out a laugh. “You know you could have just led with needing a pilot? Didn’t have to go through all this expository dialogue.”

“I know. But sometimes I think…I don’t know. I keep waiting for people to leave.”

“I’m on your side. I always will be,” Frenchie said. “Go get the rest of your people. I’ll work on getting a helicopter.”

“Thank you.”

“Anything for a friend.” 

It was easy to recruit Jessica Jones, too. Actually, he didn’t even need to do any recruiting himself. That was good, at least. Marc knew that if he sought her out, things would definitely look suspicious. Him going to a private investigator? It made it look like he didn’t have any faith in the police (which he didn’t). But, the public didn’t need to know that. The less they knew, the less likely it was that Marc would get locked up in the hotel room. 

Anyway, as he was leaving Frenchie’s, as he walking back to the hotel, his phone began to ring. 

“Yeah?” Marc said when he answered the phone. 

“I’ve gotten a lead on where the beloved princess could be,” she said. “Out in farm country, where no one can hear a girl scream.”

Marc flinched at her word choice. He didn’t like to think about you being hurt, even if you surely were. He almost wanted to comment on it, but decided against it. Jessica was a blunt person. She didn’t mean anything by her words. Instead, Marc said, “You work fast.”

“Started looking the second I heard the news,” Jessica said. “Has the official investigation come up with anything?”

“Not that I’m aware of. But I don’t know if they would tell me if they did find anything,” Marc said. “Steven yelled at the prime minister when we found out.”

“That’s enough to keep you out of the loop.”

I said I was sorry, Steven mumbled. 

No one blames you, Jake said. We all would have reacted the same way if we were fronting. 

“I think they would have found any reason to keep out of the loop. If Steven hadn’t yelled, then there would have been something else. We were too close, too involved. I don’t know. What I do know is, we’re not letting it stand in our way.”

“I’m in.”

He figured she would be. Like Frenchie, Marc knew it wouldn’t take much for Jessica to want to be involved. With her phone call, his suspicions were easily confirmed. As distant as she made herself out to be, she did care. People like her don’t end up the way they do if they didn’t care. Marc knew that better than anyone. 

“I haven’t even asked the question,” he laughed. 

“And there’s no need to bother. I was in even if you didn’t ask,” Jessica said. “I need to do some more digging, make sure my hunch is right. We only got one shot at this.”

Marc ground his teeth together. Boy, did he know it. Too much time had already been wasted. They needed to act fast, but they couldn’t be careless. If even a whisper spread about what they were doing…It was game over. For this rescue op, for the hope of finding you, for you being okay.

“Keep Layla in the loop. I’m gonna be busy rounding up a few more people,” Marc said. “If all goes well, we should be ready to meet by morning.”

“Aye aye, captain.”

Xu Shang-Chi, or Shaun as he tended to go by nowadays, was a bit harder. After a falling out with his father, Shang-Chi had left the life of fighting behind. In some ways, it was a bit of a shame, since he was damn good at it. But Marc understood. Marc of all people couldn’t fault Shang-Chi for getting out while he could, setting up a good life for himself away from the blood and the violence and the never-ending shame. If he was able to make it in the world without fighting, he would leave it, too. 

(A brief part of him wondered if he would be able to stop fighting when he married you—if he would finally be safe. But he could not dwell upon that now. First—he had to ensure you were safe.) 

Marc had noted that Shang-Chi worked at the hotel you were staying at the minute he was given the hotel name. As a Moon Knight, he had been assigned specific potential threats to the Crown that he was expected to monitor. Shang-Chi had long since been demonstrated to not be a threat, but Marc had made a point to periodically look into the non-threats just in case the circumstances changed. Shang-Chi, of course, had always kept his head down, tried to live that normal life he so clearly wanted. 

Part of him felt bad about dragging the guy into all of this. But part of him, the larger part of him, needed to use every means necessary to make sure you got back home safe. And, really, Marc would take no for an answer. If Shang-Chi really didn’t want to get involved, Marc would drop it. (Jake and Steven would probably give him an earful for dropping it, but he would learn to block them out.) 

So, there he stood, walking up to Shang-Chi as he stood at the entrance of the hotel, waiting to have to go park or retrieve a car as the valet attendant. 

The man painted on a customer-service smile as Marc walked up to. “Good afternoon!” he greeted. “How may I help you?”

“I gotta question for ya, Shang-Chi,” Marc said. 

His brows raised. Marc could tell he was fighting to maintain the rest of his customer-service face. Though, he did drop the customer-service voice as he said, “No one here is supposed to know that name.”

“Come on, Shaun? Shang? If you wanted a fake name, you could’ve chosen something better. Anyone who did enough digging would have been able to find you,” Marc said with a shrug of his shoulders. “Besides, it was my job to monitor potential threats to the Crown. Even if you didn’t mean to, when you came to town, you were put on my radar. Granted, you didn’t prove to be an active threat, so no one else really needed to know about you. But I still kept tabs. I’m glad I did.”

Shang-Chi sucked in a breath, glancing around, seeing if anyone was paying attention to them. When no one was, his voice dropped to a whisper as he asked, “This is about the princess, isn’t it? I have nothing to do with that.”

“No, you don’t. But you could,” Marc said. “As in, I’m asking you for your help.”

“Excuse me?”

“I trust you’ve watched the news. Or at the very least know what’s been happening lately. The king is trying to kill his daughter. The investigation might not be over, the findings may not yet be official, but I’m telling you that that’s what happening. Before, it was to protect his own secret affair. Now? Now, I fear that, with the secret out in the open, the king is looking for revenge. He already mistreated the princess when she abided by his every wish. But now that she’s acted out so publicly? This won’t end well unless we do something to stop it.”

Shang-Chi shook his head. “If you’ve been monitoring me, then you know I don’t do this anymore. I don’t fight.”

“Would you really let an innocent woman die because of that?” Marc asked. “Your father was awful, I understand that. Believe me, I understand that better than you might think. But you can’t let your issues with him stand in the way of doing the right thing.”

“I never wanted to fight.”

“I know.” Marc sighed, then took a step back. “Look, that’s all the convincing I can do. Think about it, okay? I won’t judge or hate you or out who you are to the world if you choose not to help. But please, just consider it. I’m gathering a few others to help with this. We’re meeting tonight to discuss the plan.” Marc fished into his pocket, pulling out a scrap piece of paper, pressing it into Shang-Chi’s hand. “Call me if you decide to help, okay?”

“I can’t guarantee I will.”

“That’s alright,” Marc said. “Just think about it.”

And without another word, Marc walked away. He had others still to recruit.

Jake wasn’t sure if Yelena Belova would be interested. Well, actually…She would be interested. Anyone would be. What he wasn’t sure about was if she would be willing to help. In recent years, she’d been more selective with her missions. Jake hoped that this would be enough to pass her selection process. 

He had to wait for the day to turn to evening, when he knew that Yelena would be out. He was sure she would be there, though. Before this mess, he and Yelena would often drink together at Josie’s, recounting the stupid shit that they had to put up with during the day. Though he hadn’t shown up for many days now, he knew that she would still be there. There was nothing quite like nursing your wounds with a bottle of vodka. 

“Haven’t seen you here in a while,” Yelena said as he slid onto the barstool next to her. 

“Been busy,” he said. “I’m sure you’ve heard all about it. It’s hard to escape it all.”

Jake looked at the TV TV behind the bar. The news was on, which was different for Josie’s. But Jake understood. The kidnapping was all anyone could talk about. After word got out that the princess was missing, there was a 24/7 broadcast about any and all information that was available to the public. Karen was sitting at the desk in the station, reporting everything they knew so far. Then the camera switched to Ben Ulrich, another reporter, who was outside the Parliament building. Apparently, there was going to be a press conference. Jake doubted any useful information would come out of it. 

“The press are calling you insane, Lockley,” Yelena said, taking a drink of her beer. 

“I’m a man in love,” he corrected, flagging down a bartender and ordering himself a drink. “If that makes me insane, then lock me up in a mental hospital and throw away the key.”

Yelena snorted. “Tad dramatic, aren’t you?”

“That’s what love does to a person.”

“I’ll just have to take your word for it, ‘cause I’m sure that’s not the real reason you rolled up in here,” she said. She turned her head, looking him over. “You want something, don’t you?”

“Can’t I just catch up with an old friend?”

“If you’re a man in love, you would be doing everything possible to bring your princess home, the government and legal process be damned,” she said. “You wouldn’t be here drinking with me. You want something. Might as well ask sooner than later, yeah?”

That was one reason Jake liked Yelena. She didn’t beat around the bush. So, he had the courtesy to go ahead and explain. “I need help. We’re putting together a group of people to rescue the princess. We already got a lead on where. We just need to get together and figure out the how.”

“You think I would be a part of this?”

“I think you would take every opportunity to ruin the king. What better way than ensure he’s removed from the throne? If the princess is rescued, the world will find out every skeleton the king has hiding in his closet.”

Yelena pursed her lips. “What good would that do me?”

“The princess will want to make things right. If you ask her, she will help you,” Jake said. “When she’s queen, she’ll have everything at her disposal.”

“And how is she supposed to take down the Red Room?”

Jake shrugged. “The same way you uncover a conspiracy to murder the heir to the throne so an affair can be kept secret, I suppose. We’ve already done so much with this, taking down an underground sex trafficking ring wouldn’t be too far out of the realm of possibility.”

“The princess would want to do this? You promise?” Yelena asked.

“I’ll fuckin’ pinky swear on it,” Jake said, holding out his hand, pinky finger extended. 

Yelena stared at his hand for a moment before slowly raising her own, hooking little finger around his. “If you are lying to me, you will live to regret it.”

“Good thing I’m not lying then, isn’t it?” Jake said. “The princess…She’s always wanted to do right by her people. If you told her what was happening, she would drop everything to help.”

“Then I suppose we should get to work, huh?”

“Well…First, I got one more place to swing by.”

Approaching Matt Murdock had been Steven’s idea. Marc and Jake were 90% convinced that Steven had lost his mind when he suggested going to the lawyer. First of all, the man was a fucking lawyer. Wouldn’t he be disbarred for this or something? Second of all, the man didn’t exactly scream fighter. But Steven was sure he had seen something when Matt had been talking to him at the jail. He was so sure. He had to try. 

Matt seemed confused when Steven showed up at his apartment. Steven understood that. They hadn’t really spoken much beyond Matt and Foggy trying to get the boys’ ass out of jail. And what reason would Steven have to come talk to him? 

“Can I help you?” Matt asked. 

“I hope you can,” Steven said. “Can I come in? It’s…It’s a bit of a weird one to explain, yeah?”

Matt nodded, stepping out of the doorframe so Steven could come inside. As Steven took a look around, he was impressed with the loft he found himself in. With the kinds of cases Matt and Foggy took on, he half-expected to see an apartment similar to his own—small, cramped, bursting at the seams. But this was nice, and he couldn’t help but compliment it. 

“Thanks,” Matt said. “Would you like to sit?”

“Yeah, sure, thank you,” Steven said. He sank into the couch, watching as Matt sat on the other end. “I don’t really know how to start this.”

Great. We don’t even have a plan here, Marc whined. Just make us look like a fool in front of him, why don’t ya?

Shh, he’s got this, Jake chided.

Matt said, “Why not at the beginning then? Can only go forward from there.”

“The princess…dove, she’s missing. But you already knew that. But, uh, the boys and I, and Layla, aren’t allowed to help. And we can’t just wait for the government to make this right when they’re the ones to make it wrong.”

Matt fucked in a breath. “…Steven, if you’re asking for legal advice, my professional opinion is don’t—”

“I’m not asking for legal advice,” Steven interrupted. “I’m asking for help.”

“Isn’t that one in the same?”

Well, no better way to confirm his suspicions than to jump in head first. “Not when you can do what you do,” Steven said. “You know, as a Moon Knight, the boys and I were assigned certain threats that we had to monitor. One of those was this masked vigilante. No one could ever figure out who he was. We reviewed probably thousands of hours of footage, trying to find anything that could lead to an identification. You know, just in case this vigilante ever became a threat to the Crown.”

Matt’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly. “And did you ever find out who he was?”

“No. No, not until this lawyer walked into an interrogation room. His gait, you know, reminded me a lot of the vigilante. But that’s nothing, innit? It’s not like that’s a single thing that could lead to an ID. But, the more time I spend around this lawyer, the more I picked up on similarities, on the mannerisms, that the vigilante shared with him. Eventually, all the pieces started to fit together, and I worked out the ID.” Steven paused, watching Matt’s reaction. “I think we both know I’m not talking about Foggy.”

“I would never do anything to threaten the Crown,” Matt said. 

“No, but you might save it,” Steven said. “Layla, the boys, and I can’t sit still anymore. We trusted the government to keep our dove safe, but they failed. We won’t let them fail again. The boys and I have been finding people to help.”

“You think I will.”

It wasn’t a question. Steven said, “No, I know you’ll do what’s right. A person doesn’t just choose to put on a mask and beat up criminals. A person does that if they want to make the world a better place, even if it’s just one street at a time. Even if it’s not the legal way to go about it. Even if it’ll put themselves in jail if they get caught.”

Matt didn’t say anything for a long time. Until, he said, “Jessica already called me.”

Steven’s brows raised. “What? So you just let me go through all that for nothing?”

Matt let out a dry laugh. “No, I wanted to know if you knew who I was. I wanted to see if you’d actually seek me out.”

“…so is that a yes, then?”

“It’s an ‘I was already going to show up if you invited me or not’,” Matt said. 

What the fuck, Marc said.

I can’t believe Steven was right about this, Jake said. 

I can’t believe this is actually working out, Marc said. 

“…alright. Well, if you’re in, then we should get going. We’re all getting together tonight to work out the plan.”

“Lead the way.”

As Steven and Matt began to leave the apartment, Steven’s phone buzzed. He fished it out of his pocket, looking at the notification that illuminated his lock screen. It was one message, and it was all he needed to hear. 

unknown: this is shang. thought about what you said. count me in.

“I think we got ourselves a good team,” Steven said, letting out a laugh. “A real good team.”

[starryevermore]

do not chastise the dove (2) ✧ steven grant, marc spector, jake lockley

do not chastise the dove ✧ a royal moon knight au | ao3 | pinterest board

pairing: knight!steven grant x fem!princess!reader x knight!marc spector x knight!jake lockley

series summary: you were a princess who would rather be anything but a royal; he was the knight her father forced her to marry—a true match made in hell if there ever was one. but, as the wedding inches closer and closer, it seems that, perhaps, your father had finally done something right by you. 

chapter summary: marc decides to give you a chance. 

word count: 7,060

warnings?: royal au, arranged marriage, abusive father, pet name (dove), not proofread

When Marc Spector was called into the king’s office for a private meeting, a lot of things ran through his head. He thought, perhaps, he’d been let go. He thought that maybe he had been promoted. Was there a chance that people had found out about Steven and Jake in spite of his careful attempts to make sure they didn’t front while he was working? There were a million possibilities, but never did he think that the reason he was to meet with the king was to marry him off to the princess. 

“There hasn’t been an arranged marriage in the royal family in, what, a century?” Marc said when Benjamin told him his request. “If I may, why now?”

“My daughter needs to be reined in.” Benjamin rose from his chair, turning and walking towards the large window that overlooked the grounds. He motioned for Marc to join him. When Marc stood next to him, Benjamin pointed to wear you were, running through the grounds as your bodyguard, Layla, chased after you. A smile twitched on Marc’s lips as he looked at Layla. He hadn’t seen in her so long—his fault, of course, but he still missed her. “I have done the best I could, but she continues to act out.”

“So you would put the responsibility onto another person?” Marc questioned. “Would that really work?”

Benjamin tore his eyes away from his daughter and looked at Marc. “No. It wouldn’t. However, getting her out of the palace will remove her from the public eye. Her faults will be less of a blemish on the family name. Put in charge of a dukedom, preferably far from the capital. The media would be forced to turn their attention elsewhere.”

I don’t trust him, Jake muttered, catching Marc’s eye in the reflection of the glass. He speaks of her like she’s some dog he can ship off somewhere. 

Marc ignored Jake and he asked, “If you don’t mind, what’s in it for me? If she is so…troublesome, why should I have to put up with her?”

Now you’re talking about her like she’s a dog, Steven said. 

Shut it you two. 

“I’ve heard that you’ve been looking for an early retirement. Think of this as the most direct path. Marry my daughter and you would no longer have to serve with the Moon Knights. You’d be able to go off, live somewhere out in the country, and I would finance it all. All you have to do is take Y/N along with you.”

An early retirement…It was tempting. Being a Moon Knight was not all it cracked up to be. It was long hours, demanding training, having to play the role of a perfect soldier. It was exhausting. Add on hiding the fact that he shared a body with Steven and Jake…Yeah, he really wanted a way out. 

He couldn’t deny that this was a perfect opportunity. The only downside was having to marry you. From the time of the engagement to the time of the wedding, the two of you would be the center of the public eye. Perhaps longer. He hated the spotlight. And he hated the idea of marrying a royal more. The royal family was an antiquated system, something that only existed because of tradition and to boost tourism. There was little place for it now. All it did was breed spoiled brats who would never do anything with the influence they had. 

And it was a marriage to you, the media’s darling princess. While Benjamin clearly intended for you to fade out of the public eye, Marc had his doubts. Part of him wondered if you liked the attention, if you reveled in it, if you acted the way you did so that all eyes would be on you. 

Yet, the pros really did outweigh the cons. And besides, something about the way Benjamin spoke told him that he really didn’t have a choice in the matter at all. 

Marc found himself saying, “Fine.”

Benjamin nodded, pleased that Marc conceded so easily. “I will have her file sent over to you later today. I’m sure you already know something’s about her, but we need to make sure this is believable. We have crafted a story of how the two of you met and fell in love. You will do well to have it memorized by Friday morning. That is when we will have the two of you announce the engagement in an interview with the press. A stylist will meet with you later to get your measurements and settle on what you’ll be wearing for the interview.”

“Is that all?”

“For now. You may go.”

When Marc stepped out of the office, his mind was immediately bombarded with Steven and Jake voicing their opinions. 

This isn’t as bad you act like it is, Jake said. Don’t you remember how kind the princess always is? Give her a chance. 

It’s an act, Marc thought. It has to be. No one is actually that nice. No one that he’s met is that nice, anyhow. Except maybe Steven, but even he has his snarky moments. Has the princess ever had a snarky moment in public? He doubted it. She was careful about her public image, and he didn’t trust that. 

If she was really acting, she would have broken character already, Steven argued. Is it really so hard to believe she might actually be a good person? 

Yes. It is. 

For the entire week, Jake and Steven tried to convince Marc that perhaps you were kinder than he thought. But he didn’t want to hear it, and so he didn’t. He didn’t understand why they thought so highly of you. You’d interacted with them, what, a handful of times since he became a Moon Knight? You probably didn’t even have the first clue who he was before Benjamin told you that he would be marrying you. 

Marc didn’t think very highly of the royal family. Or the government in general, if he was being honest. But, at least with the Parliament, he could say that there were some who were trying to be agents of good like Prime Minister Wilson—though, the vast majority were dirty politicians. The royal family, however? They served no real purpose. They were just a bunch of figureheads. They had almost no real powers, and the powers they did have were rarely executed. Marc hated it. He hated that a small few sat on the wealth of the kingdom, stuffing their faces and pockets, all while citizens suffered. If being a Moon Knight wasn’t his only viable career option, he would have had nothing to do with the monarchy. But now…Now he had a chance to make the monarchy work for him, even in a limited capacity, and that was why he didn’t kick up much of a fuss when he was told to marry the princess. 

He would get what he wanted, and he would live a good life. And that would be enough for him. He didn’t have to like you. And honestly? It would be better if he didn’t like you and if you didn’t like him. He could still protect Jake and Steven that way. You didn’t need to know about them. You didn’t need to know about him beyond whatever was in his file. All that was being asked of him was to rein you in, and that required no feelings beyond indifference. 

Which was how Marc found himself that Friday morning, waiting at the top of the stairs for you to come out. He was supposed to be waiting with your father downstairs, but the king was growing impatient. Harrow had already been sent up to see what was taking so long, but Marc was sick of Benjamin tapping his foot, huffing, while he waited. 

“Women and their insufferable need to waste everyone’s goddamn time getting ready,” Benjamin muttered. 

Marc wasn’t sure he was supposed to hear that—even if he partially agreed. So, he found himself excusing himself to go get you. By the time he got up the staircase to the second floor, where you were getting ready, you and Layla had already come out of the room, heading his way. 

“I apologize for your wait,” you said when you reached him. 

He didn’t mean to, but he found himself rolling his eyes. He imagined you’d done it on purpose. He knew you were as forced into this situation as he had been, and part of him believed that purposes you were finding little ways to act out wherever you could just to get under his skin. Well, he wouldn’t let it get to him. Instead of snapping or yelling, he turned to begin his descent down the stairs. “Let’s make this quick.”

“…it’s an hour-long interview. That’s the antithesis of quick.”

Great. He was marrying a smart-ass. He might as well have been marrying a woman-version of Steven. 

Hey! Steven protested.

“Well, let’s not make this any longer than it needs to be,” Marc said as the two of you reached the bottom of the stairs. 

You said nothing as the two of you walked towards Benjamin. Marc glanced at you, seeing your pursed lips and scrunched-up eyebrows. Oh, you were pissed. He fought the urge to laugh. He kind of liked getting a reaction out of you. But he couldn’t dwell on it, because he and you were now were in front of Benjamin. Benjamin looked you over, spinning his finger, indicating for you to spin so he could take in your entire outfit. 

“That wasn’t the dress we approved of,” Benjamin said. 

“You haven’t approved of my clothes in years, Father,” you said, stopping your twirling when you faced him again. “Everything else will go according to plan.”

“Don’t embarrass me.”

“Yes Father.”

It was interesting, how easily you deflated when you spoke to your father. Any fight you had, any spark of a fire, died as soon as he criticized you. Somewhere in the back of his mind—perhaps Jake whispering about how unfairly judgmental Marc was being—Marc wondered how awful your father was to you behind closed doors if he spoke to you like that out in the open. 

Benjamin turned his gaze towards Marc before granting his approval. You and Marc walked side-by-side out the door and towards the car, Layla following closely behind. For a moment, Marc wondered if your father was coming. But when the door was shut and the car lurched forward, he realized you and him were flying solo. It surprised him. The way your father spoke of you, one would think that you needed constant supervision. And yet, you were being allowed to walk essentially freely to what would set the tone for the entire engagement? 

Marc wondered if your father wanted to see you fail. 

He took the opportunity to watch you, when your guard was down. He had never seen you as anything other than the media’s darling, the sweet princess who cared about her people. He had always thought it was a farce, an act to keep attention on you. Marc had always imagined that, behind closed doors, you were more akin to a wicked stepsister than Cinderella. He watched as you tried to keep your breathing steady, eyes darting around the car, hands wringing together—he recognized that. He’d done the same countless times before when he was trying to stop an incoming panic attack. Now…Now, he was starting to realize that you were more of a Rapunzel. Did that make him Flynn Rider? 

When the car came to a stop in front of the news station, he wanted to reach out and take your hand, give it a comforting squeeze. But he hesitated. Would you want that? Would you want that from him? He’d been rude earlier. Would you think he was mocking you?

You reached out first, though, taking his hand. You said, “Please, I know this isn’t ideal, but I can’t mess this up. We have to act like a happy couple during this. Be upset about this later, when there’s no cameras, and I’ll do the same. I…I just can’t let my father down.”

Marc swallowed hard. He wasn’t sure what to say—an apology was on the tip of his tongue, alongside words of comfort and a cheesy joke he remembered Steven saying once. But he never got the opportunity to say anything.

Jake was always good at taking control when Marc or Steven wasn’t ready or willing to give it. He could just waltz right in and front before they knew what he was doing. It was even easier when it came to you. For years now, Jake had had a soft spot for you. Marc never really understood it. Jake usually was a better judge of character than Marc, but Marc had convinced himself that Jake was wrong this time around. He was starting to realize, though, that perhaps he was the one that was wrong. 

Jake held onto your hand as the driver opened the car door, sliding out with you right behind him. As the two of you began walking, he dropped your hand, opting to place his on the small of your back. Jake glanced down at you, watching as you smiled at the paparazzi, waving at the cameras, greeting them as you passed. A smile of his own twitched on his lips as he watched you. Marc supposed that, of the three of them, Jake was the most happy about this arrangement. 

Marc watched as you and Jake sat on a loveseat, the interviewer—a woman named Karen Page—sat in an armchair across from the two of you. She seemed nice—sweet but with a bit of a bite. It almost reminded him of Layla. He wondered if that was why you seemed to open up a bit more to Karen, losing some of the heaviness on your shoulders as you and her chit-chatted while the crew finished setting up the cameras and lighting. 

Then, the performance began—

Karen smiled at the camera facing her and said, “Good morning! We have a very special treat for you today. Our very own Princess Y/N is here with us today, joined by a special someone. A very handsome special someone, I might add. Rumor has it, they have an announcement to make. Your Highness?”

She looked to you, and a camera zoomed in your face. You smiled wide, flashing your pearly white teeth. You raised your left hand, the ring facing the camera. “Surprise! A wedding will soon be in our midst!”

“She means to say we’re engaged,” Jake said, a teasing lilt in his voice. Maybe Marc should let Jake take the reins more in the public appearances. He seemed almost a natural at it. “We’re not here to just show off some beautiful jewelry.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Karen said. “I don’t think anyone even knew you were seeing anyone, Your Highness?”

“You know you can call me Y/N, Karen,” you said. “We wanted to keep it…Well, not secret, but—”

“I already share so much of her with the wonderful citizens of this kingdom,” Jake said. Good catch, Marc thought. You were struggling to say the words, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to see what would happen if you did fall. He was certain it wouldn’t look pretty. “Call me selfish, but there were somethings I wanted to be just the two of us.”

“We do love stealing her every chance we get,” Karen laughed. “Tell me, if you don’t mind, how did you two meet?”

You paused. Did Jake need to jump in again? Or…Or did you just need a minute to remember the story? But there was something about the look in your eyes that made Marc realize you were on the brink of throwing all caution to the wind. And so you did, when you said, “It was at my father’s birthday parade a few years ago. The first one after my mother…”

Jake reached over, taking your hand in his, giving it a squeeze. “It’s okay. Take your time.”

“It was the first one after my mother passed,” you finally managed to say, your voice slightly strained as you tried to stop yourself from crying. “It was hard, being there without her. Even now, I think about how much I want her by my side, guiding me through life. But, that day…It felt like she was still there.”

“How do you mean?” Karen asked. 

“I’m sure everyone remembers the story, how that little girl ran out to our carriage and a Moon Knight stopped her before she could get hurt by one of the horses,” you said. You looked over at Jake, smiling. You had a nice smile. Marc almost wished he was the one you were smiling at, not Jake. “Marc was the only one who stepped in, who realized what was happening. I just remember getting out of the carriage, and, rather than just taking her back to her parents or yelling at her like other Moon Knights would have, he was making sure she was okay. And, I just thought: Wow. I didn’t think men still acted like prince charmings. I don’t know, it just felt like my mother was there, pointing me to him, showing me to still look for the good in people.”

Jake smiled back at you, and said, “You never told me that story. Here I was, thinking that you met me when I was told to escort you to a meeting with your father.”

“Well, I suppose that was when I was technically introduced to you,” you said. 

And so, the interview continued, you and Jake telling your own love story. And while Marc was beginning to enjoy seeing you open up, he began to worry what might happen with your father back at the palace. 

When Marc returned to his apartment, he was exhausted. Even if Jake was the one putting on the performance, Marc was so eaten up with worry that he found himself ready to just crawl in bed and fall asleep for a thousand years when Jake allowed him to front again. Of course, he didn’t really have that option when Steven and Jake had begun their relentless teasing. 

What happened to the man who hated the princess? Jake asked. 

Last I remember, you thought she was just a smart-ass, Steven said. 

Bet he’s thinking she has a nice—

“Stop that!” Marc snapped, glaring at their reflections in Gus’s fish tank. 

Ooh someone’s getting possessive, aren’t they? Steven said. It’s you! 

Barely even said a word to the princess, and you’re already picturing a happily ever after! Jake added. 

“I am not!” Marc argued. “I just…Look. I don’t like the way king spoke to her today. The royal family may not be my favorite people in the world, but that doesn’t mean I like seeing the king treat his daughter like shit. She doesn’t deserve that. No one does. Family is supposed to take care of each other.”

We’re about to be her family, Steven said. 

“I know. And that’s why I was worrying. I know the two of you have some sort of soft spot for her. I don’t understand it. I don’t feel the same way. But I’ll respect your feelings for her, and I’ll do what I can to make sure I’m not making things any worse for her. Okay?”

Your thoughts betray you—

“I’m not talking about this anymore!”

Except, he kind of wanted to. He wanted to talk about you, to understand why Jake and Steven felt as strongly as they did. What had they noticed that he had missed? It certainly wasn’t because you were just a pretty face. Which, yes, you were undeniably beautiful. But there had to be something more to it. There was always a reason with Steven and Jake. 

Though, he supposed he hadn’t really explained his dislike (was it even still dislike now?) so how could he expect Steve or Jake to explain their infatuation? And, honestly…Marc wasn’t quite sure where his dislike was rooted. Initially, it was solely because you were a royal. And, yes, he still held some reservations because of that. You were someone who would constantly be in the public eye. You would likely always have paparazzi following you, having to go to events, talk to people—and he might not have minded that if he didn’t have such a huge secret weighing on him. In Marc’s mind, he couldn’t let you know about Jake and Steven, because there might come a moment where you slip up and reveal it to the public. And once it becomes public knowledge? It doesn’t take a genius to know what happens to people who are perceived as different. 

We’re gonna be marrying her, Marc, Steven said. We have to trust her. We trusted Layla, didn’t we? 

“That was different. Layla didn’t have an entire kingdom following her every move, waiting with bated breath for her every word.” Marc shook his head, turning away from any reflected surface. “This isn’t a marriage of love. I don’t see why I have to pretend that it is.”

You might not love her, but that doesn’t mean we—

“I’m not talking about this anymore!”

And, for once, Jake and Steven dropped it. For the rest of the night, Marc was left alone with his thoughts. An admittedly dangerous place to be, if he was being honest. But this time, though, it was at least a little helpful. 

Every time Marc closed his eyes, all he could see was the way your face crumpled—just for a second—when Benjamin spoke to you. How you fought to kept tears at bay in the car ride to the news station. How all you asked of him was make sure he played his part well so as not to upset your father. You hadn’t said it out loud, but both you and he knew that even if he was the one to mess things up…You would be the one to take the fall. 

He didn’t want to, he was still terrified of you accidentally letting it slip, but he knew that he had to tell you the truth. If it ever did come out that Marc was actually a part of a system, you would take the fall—even if you never knew the truth yourself. And he could never ask that of you. He wouldn’t ask that of anyone.

Tomorrow, he would talk to Layla. He would find out the best way to tell you. He would not keep you in the dark. This was not an ideal relationship, but he would have to do the best with the cards he was dealt. 

It was his only choice. 

Come morning, Marc was more nervous than he had ever been in his entire life. He knew that someday soon, he would be telling you the truth about him, Steven, and Jake. But between then and now…He wasn’t so sure he would be able to keep it to himself, if he would accidentally blurt it out to you at the first available opportunity. He knew that doing it sooner rather than later was preferred. It’s just…how does a person know when the right opportunity has presented itself? And what if he missed that opportunity? He’d worried so much telling Layla years ago that he’d given himself grey hairs. He was almost certain that the worry he’d feel about telling you would send him to an early grave. 

But the day must go on. 

Layla was waiting for him when he arrived at the palace. Her face was stern as she looked him over, grabbing him by the crook of the arm and dragging him to an empty hallway. “We didn’t get to talk yesterday.”

Marc swallowed hard. Shit, she was mad at him. “I didn’t realize you had something to say.”

“Of course I did. Look, I know that neither you nor Y/N chose this. But that doesn’t give you the right to be so disrespectful to her when she has given you no reason to.” Layla placed her hands on her hips, staring him down. Marc fought not to flinch under her gaze. “Thank fucking god Jake decided to front, because I have no doubt you would have found a way to humiliate Y/N when she doesn’t deserve that, and I can’t figure out why the hell you thought it was a good idea to be such a dick!”

It was hard to maintain Layla’s gaze when she was glaring at him. Marc cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, and I’ll tell the princess I’m sorry, too. I-I was scared of what might happen if it got out that Jake and Steven existed. It wasn’t fair to the princess.”

“Y/N would never do anything that would harm you or the others, I can promise you that.” Layla’s body relaxed slightly having gotten her rant out. “I told her you’re a good man, and I want her to believe that. You and her could be good friends. You just have to give her a chance.”

“I will, I promise. I just…Can we talk later, about how to bring up Steven and Jake to her? I don’t know how to approach this at all.”

Layla nodded. “We can talk later today. For now, the princess is in the king’s office. Can you go get her and tell her that the photographer has finished setting up in the garden?”

Marc furrowed his brows. “Don’t you have to escort her down? Since you’re her bodyguard?”

“You’re equally capable of keeping her safe, if need be. And I think it would be good for the two of you to interact more.”

Marc nodded. He knew that she meant that she wanted him to take the opportunity to show you kindness. He also knew that even if he insisted that she be the one to go to the king’s office, Layla would still get her way. So, he turned towards the stairs and made his way to where you were. 

As he got closer, the apprehension he felt slowly simmered into a rage. Your father and brother made no attempt to quiet themselves as they berated you over the interview. And what for? Because you came up with a better, more organic story than the bullshit they created? That was hardly fair. 

“You are a disgrace to this family,” Benjamin shouted, his voice carrying down the hall. “All you had to do was stick to the script, stick to the story. But, no. You had to be a little rebel. You had to march to the beat of your own drum. You’re a princess, for god’s sake, Y/N! When are you going to start acting like one!?”

I could kill him, Steven nearly growled. Marc paused in the middle of his step, surprised by the display of aggression from the man. She doesn’t deserve to be spoken to like that. No one does. 

Your voice was smaller, quieter. But it was clear enough that Marc could hear it all the same. “The story had holes in it, Father. I worried that someone would go looking and everything would be exposed—”

He’ll get what’s coming for him, Jake said. 

We are not threatening the king! Marc snapped. No matter how much he deserves it! That’s a surefire way to make sure we all get fucking killed. 

Not if I kill him first, Steven muttered. 

“—and worst of all, you dragged Marc down with you. Did you even think about him? Did you even consider what an embarrassment this would be to him?”

OI! He better stop that or I’m gonna freak out! Steven said.

“—he seemed fine!”

“That is because he’s a better actor than you, Y/N! You would think he was the royal by blood rather than you,” Benjamin said.

He’s fucking begging for someone to punch him, Jake said. 

“I don’t even see what the issue is! Everyone’s so happy about the news! Isn’t this good for the family?”

She’s too nice to be treated like this, Steven said. I should kill him for speaking to her like this—

Marc shook his head, trying to ignore Jake and Steven. He had to admit, they were right. No parent should ever speak to their child this way. It took everything in Marc to not snap, to not barge into the office, take out your father and brother, grab you, and run away to some safe space. But he knew he couldn’t do that. That would only make things worse for him, and you, in the long run. 

This was, perhaps, the only place that Marc could not win by punching first and figuring the rest out later. He had to be smart here. He had to use his brain. And the few brain cells that he did have were telling him that if he attacked the king, he would win the battle but he would lose the war. 

So, he held his tongue, kept his hands clenched in fists at his side, and stood in the open doorway to the king’s office. Benjamin, who was facing the door, didn’t notice him. No, he was too busy yelling at you to even glance his way.

“You’ve made a mockery for us,” Benjamin said. 

“The press is treating a royal wedding like it’s some circus event,” Kieran added. “Did you even consider how this might affect my own future engagement?”

“Well, no, but you aren’t even seeing anyone—”

“These things last forever!” Kieran snapped. He grabbed a stack of the magazines, crumpling them in his hand as he waved them in your face. “I’m going to have to act like a fucking circus monkey when I do get engaged!”

“I didn’t mean to—” you tried saying, flinching as he threw the magazines at you. “I’m sorry!”

Okay. That’s it. He couldn’t keep quiet anymore, not when they were getting violent towards you. As Marc knocked on the door frame, trying to draw attention towards himself, Steven fronted. For a moment, Marc was worried that Steven might actually act on his threats. Instead, though, as all eyes turned toward him, Steven said, “The photographer is all set up in the garden.” 

Benjamin narrowed his eyes at Steven before looking back at you. Marc imagined that the king didn’t take kindly to being interrupted. The king said to you, “You’re dismissed. Try not to ruin this.”

A wave of protectiveness crashed over Marc as you rose to your feet. The crumpled up magazines that had been thrown at you fell to the ground. You stared at them and, if Marc looked closely enough, he could’ve sworn he saw tears prick at your eyes before you bent down, picking them up, placing them on your father’s desk. You let out a shuddering breath, walking as quickly as your feet could carry you, brushing past Steven. 

Steven remained in the doorway. For a moment, Marc worried that he would act out on his desires. But instead, Steven said, “She’s trying her best.”

Benjamin’s eyes narrowed at Steven. Did he notice the accent change? Or was he simply angry that someone dared to speak against him? “She should be doing her best. A princess doesn’t try. She only succeeds.”

Before Steven could say anything else, you reached out, touching his arm. “We should be going,” you said, your voice quiet, like you were barely keeping it together. “We shouldn’t waste the photographer’s time.”

Steven nodded, his glare softening as he looked at you. He turned away from Benjamin, walking away from the office. As the two of you walked down the hall, his hand fell to the small of your back, guiding you towards the garden. ���You’ll be okay,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. 

You didn’t say anything. At least, not immediately. Just before the two of you reached the garden, you stopped and Steven stopped, too. You looked at him, studying his face, before finally saying, “I’m sorry you had to see that. He…My father and brother usually aren’t so…intense.”

Marc took control again, your attempt to make excuses enraging him. He understood why—he was all too familiar with the feeling. But, that didn’t mean he enjoyed hearing it. “You shouldn’t apologize for them. Not when they treated you like that. You don’t deserve that.” He paused, taking a deep breath. Here goes nothing. “If anything, I should be the one apologizing. The way I treated you, before we left for the interview…You did nothing for me to be so rude. I know that you asked for this as much as I did, and it wasn’t fair to you for me to take out my frustration with the situation on you.”

“I forgive you,” you said, smiling softly. 

“I know this isn’t an ideal situation for either of us, but…If you’d like, I was wondering if you’d like to be friends? We’ll have an entire lifetime together, and spending that time hating each other or even just being indifferent isn’t something I’m interested in.”

Finally, he comes to his senses, Jake teased. 

Next step, get him to fall in love, Steven joked. 

“I would like that a lot,” you said. 

“Now, let’s go act like we’re madly in love for the camera,” Marc said, leading you out to the garden. “Though…I feel like my part might be easier to play when my partner is as sweet as you.”

Yes, pull out the moves! Jake said. 

You ducked your head down, your smile widening. “You’re too kind.”

“Only honest.” 

Or, at least, he was trying to be. And, the more he tried, the more he had to admit that he was enjoying seeing you, spending time with you. He was sure that, come the wedding day, he would be looking forward to a lifetime with you. 

“I think I’m going to turn in for the night,” you said as the photographer—a young man named Peter—packed up his equipment.

“It’s not even noon yet,” Marc said. Ah, the luxury of being a royal. You could do whatever you wanted, have no responsibilities if you so chose. Though…As he looked in your eyes, he realized this choice of relaxation may have been the result of being exhausted for having to put on a front of the perfect princess. 

“I’m not feeling well,” you said. His suspicions seemed to be confirmed. “I have no other engagements for the rest of the day, so I should like to rest.”

“Do you need me to walk you up, dove?” Layla asked. 

“You don’t need to guard me every second of my life, Layla,” you said. “I’ll be fine walking up to my room on my own. It’s not as if someone in the palace would try to harm me.”

Not true, Steven muttered. Marc fought the urge to react. Ever since Marc had walked in on Benjamin and Kieran laying into you over the engagement announcement earlier, Steven had been grumbling about how it was unfair to yell at you like that. Marc had to agree with Steven, though he tried to not show it. He worried that reacting to strongly might make the princess shut him out—he often did the same when he felt like someone was pitying him because of his relationship with his parents. But, seeing the poisoned looks they gave you…It reminded him too much of his own tragedies.

As you walked away, Marc frowned, looking at Layla. “Why do you keep calling the princess that? Dove?”

“You should go back to tenth grade English, Marc,” Layla said. “Don’t you remember what teachers always said doves symbolize?”

“Peace and love and all that other hippie shit,” Marc said. “You really think she embodies all of that?” 

“Of course I do. I’ve worked with her long enough. I know she doesn’t have a mean bone in her body.”

Marc nodded, looking away. “I used to think otherwise. Before I met her…I thought she might as well be the poster child for spoiled brats everywhere.”

Layla shook her head, her curls bouncing. “If that’s what you thought of our princess, then you really didn’t know the first thing about her.”

“I know. But I would like that to change. I…” He tried to choose his words carefully, knowing that anyone passing by could hear them. “Seeing how the others have reacted, I realized I might have been wrong. And I think that I am.”

“You said you wanted to talk about how to…introduce her to your roommates. Why do you want to do that?”

“I want her to trust me. Hiding them from her…The longer I do that, the more I fear that it will damage any type of relationship I manage to have with her. You know her best, and I wanted your advice on how to best approach the situation.”

Layla pursed her lips, seemingly in deep though. But she surprised him with her next words, asking, “Have you ever been to the royal library, Marc?” When he shook his head, she said, “Then we’ll go now.”

The royal library took up practically an entire floor of the palace, rows upon rows up rows of shelves filling the large room. Marc had never seen so many books in his life. He was sure that Steven was already geeking out over all of the books, making a mental plan on the most efficient way to go about reading them all. Layla led Marc further and further into the library, before they reached a closed off, locked room. Layla unlocked the door, flipping on the lights, and motioned for Marc to follow her inside. 

“What is this place?”

“It’s all of the records of the royal family. No one ever comes this way, so I know we’ll have our privacy,” Layla said. 

Marc looked around the room, his eyes landing on an old-looking photo album wedged in between some books on the bottom shelf. He bent down, pulling it free, before taking it over to a table in the middle of the room. He flipped it open, looking through its pictures. It was older ones, mostly of when your brother was young. But there were a few of you in the back, of your mother cradling you in her arms, gazing down at you with pure love in her eyes.

He smiled as he stared at it. He could understand why people always said that you adored your mother. If his mother had looked at him like that…He might have had love in his heart for her. 

“When do you think is best to approach this?” Marc asked, looking up at Layla who sat herself across from him. 

“Her birthday is soon. Next week. We’ll be having a ball on her birthday, that Saturday.”

Marc nodded. “I read that in her file.”

“You should wait until after then. Tensions will already be high, she’ll be stressed. The king is always worse on her birthday. We don’t need to add any stress on top of that.”

“After her birthday, then. That gives us more time to think about how to say it to her.” Marc paused. “Do you think you should be in the room with us? Or just me and her?”

“It would probably be best if I was there. She already trusts me, and she’ll know I wouldn’t let you lie about this,” Layla said. “Though, I will say I think she already suspects something is up. Yesterday, she asked me about you, what you were like, how I knew you and…Well, I told her that you and I used to sleep together. But I think she could tell there was something I wasn’t saying.”

“…was she upset about that?”

Layla shook her head. “No. She was gracious, said that your life before the engagement was none of her business. I fear, though, if we tell her together, she might think that we’ll be telling her that we’re still seeing each other, and that might put her on the defensive. Make her think that I hadn’t been quite as truthful before.”

“We’ll have to keep that in mind, then,” Marc said. “We have a week to plan, so we should be able to figure the best course out. For now, I think we should just brainstorm on our own and come back together in a day or two.”

He glanced back at the photo album. Another picture caught his eye—one of your mother playing with dolls with you. He smiled softly, pulling it out of the plastic sleeve. The picture was thicker than he would have expected. Almost like—

Marc noticed that there were two pictures there, instead of just one. He pulled them apart slowly, revealing a second picture wedged behind the first. It was older, folded up and smoothed back out several times. In it was a much younger depiction of your mother and your father, your mother holding a toddler-sized Kieran. Just behind them, was a maid. But there was something curious about the maid.

The maid. She looked almost like—

Steven finally got control of the body again, fronting and making Marc lose his train of thought. He said, “D’you know where we can make some copies of these pictures?”

Layla’s brows furrowed. “There’s a machine just outside this room. Why?”

“The princess’s birthday is soon and I don’t have a present for her yet,” Steven said. “Wanted to make her something special, and I know how much she loved her mother.”

“She would appreciate that very much.” A smile curled across Layla’s face as she stood up, leading Steven out of the room. 

Make sure you copy the other photo, Marc said. 

Was already planning on it. 

There was something strange going on here. Something that was more than meets the eye. And he wasn’t going to rest until he figured it out.

[starryevermore]

do not chastise the dove (7) ✧ steven grant, marc spector, jake lockley

do not chastise the dove ✧ a royal moon knight au | ao3 | pinterest board

pairing: knight!steven grant x fem!princess!reader x knight!marc spector x knight!jake lockley

series summary: you were a princess who would rather be anything but a royal; he was the knight her father forced her to marry—a true match made in hell if there ever was one. but, as the wedding inches closer and closer, it seems that, perhaps, your father had finally done something right by you. 

chapter summary: steven wants to make things right with you, but his chance is stolen from him. 

word count: 2,464

warnings?: kidnapping, not proofread

Jake would say that he was the one who fell in love with the princess first. He’d speak wistfully, recall seeing you walk the halls of the palace, offering kind smiles and sweet words to everyone you met. It was impossible not to love you. But, Jake was completely, and utterly, wrong—about falling in love first, that is. Steven did not remember much of his childhood. He didn’t really want to, either, if he was being honest. Some memories, though, had stuck with him so clearly. He remembered being in school, learning about the royal family and about you. He remembered watching the news about Benjamin’s jubilee and seeing you for the first time. He remembered, one time, you and Elaine had come to his school on royal business and, when he was chosen as one of the students to have lunch with you and Elaine, you spoke to him nearly the whole time. He remembered getting older, becoming a Moon Knight, and you attending the ceremony where he was officially Knighted, smiling brightly at him. Jake was right—it was impossible not to love you. But he was not the one who loved you first. 

And that why Steven’s heart sank when he heard your whispered words, that losing them would be the worst heartache you’d suffered. Between family lies and assassination attempts, losing them would be the worst? He could hardly believe that you loved them as strongly as they loved you, and yet you were so sure they would leave. What ever had given you an idea quite like that?

He wanted to take control of the body, to pull you close, to tell you that neither he nor Jake nor Marc had any intentions of leaving you. But you thought he was asleep, and you had confessed something you didn’t think he would hear. Would it be some sort of breach of trust to confront you with it? As he laid there, he decided that he wouldn’t, but…But he would make sure you understood that, and Jake, and Marc, were all in. That they wouldn’t leave you unless you told them to. So, he let Jake hold you, deciding that, in the morning, he would make sure you knew how appreciated you were. 

But you were gone when he woke up. 

Panic settled in his chest as he looked around the room, seeing no immediate sign of your presence. But, as he stumbled out of bed, he noticed that your favorite pair of shoes were gone. That there were a couple more empty hangers. That, when he glanced in the mirror, there was a lipstick stain on his temple. That a near-finished cup of tea sat on the nightstand. That, next to the cup, there was a note that read, “I’m so sorry to leave you without a goodbye. My questioning was moved up, so I’ve gone to meet with Matt and Foggy. I’ll be back by lunch. ♡”.

And, when his heart rate finally began to slow, he saw Layla sitting in the living room of the suite. His brows pinched together, crease forming in the space between his brows. What was she doing here? If you were out, shouldn’t you be with your bodyguard? Should…should he resume panicking? 

“Shouldn’t you be with Y/N?” he asked. 

She huffed, rolling her eyes. “I should be. But, just because I’ve been cleared of any involvement, Parliament doesn’t want anything to be left to chance, just in case I’ve managed to dupe them. They’ve assigned her a couple of their own security guards.”

“I can’t imagine she was happy about that, either.”

Layla snorted. “She worded her displeasure so eloquently, the poor dopes thought she was flirting with them. Though, she could have been more outright and they probably still would have thought she was making a move.”

Steven crossed the room, sinking into the couch, sitting next to Layla. “I don’t like that you’re not with her. I…I don’t think the danger has passed yet.”

“It probably hasn’t. The king, Kieran, even Harrow…None of them have to jump through as many hoops to come and go as they please. I worry Parliament has made Y/N a sitting duck. It isn’t hard to find out where she’s staying, who her lawyers are, when she’s going to be questioned…All it takes is one half-baked plan for them to take her out.”

Steven swallowed thickly, glancing at the large windows that overlooked the kingdom. Staring back at him were Marc and Jake, concerned looks on their faces that he was sure his own face mirrored.

She’s going to be fine, Jake said. She promised to be back by lunch. She’ll be fine.

You don’t know that, Marc muttered. 

Layla watched Steven carefully, before asking, “What are they saying?”

Steven glanced back at Layla. “Jake thinks she’ll be fine, but Marc isn’t convinced.”

“And what about you?”

“…I think that, regardless of if things go well or go to hell, we should be ready for the worst case scenario.”

You couldn’t remember the last time you had been out in public without Layla. Or any other royal guard, if you were being honest. It didn’t feel right, being without her. And as you eyed Billy Fitzgerald, the guard that Parliament assigned to you, as he practically fell asleep during your meeting with Matt and Foggy, you knew that nothing good could come under his “watchful” eye. 

Perhaps it was wrong of you to unload these feelings now, to Foggy and Matt especially. But, you felt like you could get a genuine response from them. If you told Layla or your fiancés…Well, they would be comforting, you were sure of that. But you wouldn’t know how much of it was them trying to offer genuine reassurance and how much they were just trying to placate you.  

“I don’t feel good about this,” you said to the two lawyers. 

Matt raised a brow. “About the questioning, or in general?”

“The questioning will be fine,” you said. “I just have to stick to the truth. But everything else…I don’t know if it’s because I’ve been left alone for so long now or if something bad is actually going to happen, but I can’t…I have this feeling that something is going to happen. I don’t know if I’ll be okay when it does.”

Foggy spared a glance at Billy. “I can see why you feel like that.” He looked back to you, his face softening. “But there are a lot of people in your life who will do anything it takes to make sure you’re safe. There’s a lot of people in your court.”

“But what if they only feel like that because they think they have some obligation to me? That they worked with me…for me…for so long, it’s just another work obligation. That they were forced into this situation, and they don’t know how to get out so they keep playing the part.”

Foggy frowned, his brows furrowing together. “You don’t actually think that, do you?”

You sucked in a breath, before wetting your lips with your tongue. You didn’t like the thought, but it was one that hadn’t left you for a long time. “All I know is that my mother was the first and…and possibly only person who cared about me just as I am. Everyone else? I don’t know. I really don’t. Their care and concern could be genuine. Or, like I said, they feel like they have some feeling of obligation.”

A silence hung in the air. You could sense that neither man were quite sure how to address such a statement. You weren’t quite sure how to address it, either. If you did, you wouldn’t need to say it out loud, to ask someone else. You would’ve been able to figure it out up in your hotel room. But now…Now you knew that you didn’t have the first clue how to sift through these feelings.

“There’s a lot of things people will do out of mere obligation,” Matt finally said. “But risking their own livelihood? People don’t do that unless they care. People don’t go out on a line for someone unless that someone means something to them. Whoever it is that you’re concerned about…They care.”

“I don’t know if I can make myself believe that.”

The sound of a chair scraping across the floor pulled the three of you from your conversation. You turned your head, seeing Billy get of his chair. He groaned as he stood, stretching his limbs, before asking, “We done here yet?”

You looked back at Matt and Foggy. “Yes, I suppose we are. Will I be seeing you before the questioning?”

“We can pick you up, if you like,” Foggy said. 

You nodded. “I’ll call about the details when I return to the hotel.”

You got up from your seat, shaking Foggy’s hand and then Matt’s, before turning back to Billy. He opened the door, letting you walk ahead of him, before following after you. He walked behind you, which you found odd. Layla always walked at your side or in front of you. You wondered if that was a difference in training between the two guards. Then, a darker thought settled in you. What if this was the thing you were worried about?

Throwing a look over your shoulder, you tried to see if there was anything strange about Billy. If there was something you should be concerned about. But he kept his gaze ahead of him, not quite looking at you. When you turned back around, you realized you had reached the car. You started to grab the door handle to open the door—something you rarely got to do, but wanted to take advantage of since you doubted Billy knew royal protocol—when he said something. 

“I’m so sorry, princess,” he said. 

Your head whipped around, your brows furrowing together. Hm. Perhaps he did know something about royal protocol. But…then why did he have that look in his eyes? One of…what was that? Remorse? “Excuse me?”

But he didn’t say anything. Instead, he moved faster than you would have expected him to move, grabbing the back of your head, smashing it against the window of the car. You crumpled, falling to the ground, everything going dark. 

Not again, you thought bitterly before your consciousness slipped away, followed by— I hope they know to look for me. 

The clock struck two, and there still hadn’t been a sign of you. Not a word, not a peep. Anxiety began to settle deep in Steven’s bones. He didn’t have a good feeling about this. He didn’t have a good feeling about this. He didn’t have a good feeling about this at all. 

“She’s not the type of person who eats lunch at four, is she?” Steven asked. 

Layla, who had taken to standing by the window, watching the cars drive by the hotel, shook her head. “She’s always had a strict routine. Lunch is at noon. Always.” She turned her head, raising a brow. “Have you met people who eat lunch at four?”

“Jake’s a weird guy is all I’m going to say.”

Hey!, Jake protested.

“Should we call someone? Matt and Foggy, maybe? See if the meeting is just running late?” Steven asked. 

Layla glanced at the clock on the wall, chewing on her lip. Then, she reached into her pocket, fishing out her cell phone. “I’ll call.”

“Put it on speaker, yeah?” Steven said, walking closer to Layla.  

She went through her contacts before settling on the one listed as Nelson & Murdock. The dial tone rung through the room as she hit the speaker button. After a few rings, Foggy answered, “You’ve reached Nelson and Murdock, Nelson speaking.”

“Hey, it’s Layla.”

Foggy dropped his more professional voice for a friendlier one. “Layla, hey! How can I help you? Y/N ready to set up the details about when we’re picking her up in the morning?”

Layla glanced at Steven. Steven was sure all of the color had drained from his face. No, no, no…The bad feeling wasn’t supposed to come true. 

“…Actually, I was calling because I was wondering if your meeting with Y/N was running late.”

“Uh, she left a while ago, actually. ”Foggy paused, calling out to Matt. Matt’s response was muffled, before Foggy said, “Yeah, she left at around eleven. Did she not make it back?”

“No, not yet. I’m sure it might just be traffic,” Layla said. Steven looked out the window, at the near-empty streets. “I’ll try calling her now. Thank you, though.”

As Layla hung up, Steven was already pulling out his phone, dialing your number. It went straight to voicemail. He tried again with the same result. He tried a third time, and he was ready to vomit when he went to voicemail. 

“This isn’t good, Layla,” he said. 

“…I’ll call…Shit, I don’t know.” Layla gripped at her hair, her eyes squeezing shut. “This was the fucking thing I was supposed to prevent. How could I let this happen?”

Call the prime minister, Marc said. Sam something. He’s the one overseeing the investigation, right?

“Marc says to call the prime minister,” Steven reported. 

Layla opened her eyes, considering the option. “…that might be helpful. I don’t have the bodyguard’s number, but Sam might.”

But as Layla started to dial Sam’s number, her phone began ringing— And Sam was the one who was calling. She glanced at Steven, worry evident in her eyes, before accepting the call. After putting the phone on speaker, she said, “I was just about to call you.”

“That doesn’t make me feel good, if I’m being honest,” Sam said. “Have you seen the princess?”

“That’s why I was calling. That bodyguard you assigned picked her up for her meeting, but they never made it back. Foggy said they left the office at eleven.”

“…our bodyguard never made it out of the building.”

Steven couldn’t stop himself from snatching the phone from Layla. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!”

“Steven…We need to remain calm, okay? We’re going to get to the bottom of it.”

“What do you mean your bodyguard never made it out of the building?!” he repeated, aggression still present in his voice. 

“We just found Joaquin knocked out in a storage closet ten minutes ago. When he came to, he said he was attacked.”

“…then who the hell is with Y/N?” Steven asked. 

“I’m afraid I don’t know,” Sam admitted. “I’m sorry. I’ll alert the appropriate channels, but for now…”

“What?”

“We have to operate under the assumption that the princess has been kidnapped.”

[starryevermore]

do not chastise the dove (6) ✧ steven grant, marc spector, jake lockley

do not chastise the dove ✧ a royal moon knight au | ao3 | pinterest board

pairing: knight!steven grant x fem!princess!reader x knight!marc spector x knight!jake lockley

series summary: you were a princess who would rather be anything but a royal; he was the knight her father forced her to marry—a true match made in hell if there ever was one. but, as the wedding inches closer and closer, it seems that, perhaps, your father had finally done something right by you. 

chapter summary: feelings get weird when you’re in isolation.

word count: 3478

warnings?: 18+ MINONRS DNI, a little angsty, fluff, smut, unprotected sex, a little bit of fingering, a little cockwarming, pet name (dove), not proofread

You weren’t sure what was a worse fate—hiding in the safe house after Benjamin tried to have you killed or hiding in a hotel room with 24/7 security and next to no access to the outside world. A part of you, the naïve part perhaps, had thought you might be able to return to the palace after Benjamin’s plot was revealed. Why should he get to stay in your rightful home? His actions barred him from holding the throne ever again, regardless of if you were the true heir to the throne. The law was clear: If any member of the royal family attempted to kill, or succeeded in killing, an heir to the throne, then that member could never sit on the throne. While it was still contested that you were the heir, you were still an heir. Benjamin’s actions had consequences. He needed to pay for them.

Alas, Benjamin remained in the palace. Jessica’s investigation had revealed important information, but Parliament still needed to conduct its own investigation to verify her findings. Removing a king from the throne was a big deal unto itself. Add into the fact that the perceived-heir was not the actual-heir? That everything the country had been preparing for when the powers of the crown were passed down needed to change? Parliament couldn’t mess this up, they couldn’t get this wrong. 

So, you held your tongue and waited in the hotel room, wasting your hours away by staring out the large windows that overlooked the capital. In the early days of your imprisonment as you so affectionally called it, you had watched the news. But now, you couldn’t stand hearing people call Charlotte a liar, call Marc a manipulator, call you an innocent victim of people who wanted to use you to gain wealth and power and connections. You were a victim, sure, but you were neither Marc’s nor Charlotte’s victim. Some people just weren’t willing to face that. You supposed some people never would. A consequence of the circumstances that would likely never be remedied. 

It, perhaps, wouldn’t be so bad hiding away in the hotel room if you had company. But your fiancés were still in police custody—a precaution, just in case they did have something to do with it all. Layla was being questioned, too, and spent most of her days down at the police station being interrogated. After all, if this all was a lie, she should’ve been in a position to protect you from the manipulation. Or at least, that’s what people were arguing on the news. Jessica and Charlotte, and even Karen had to give their sides of the story. While you weren’t close to them, it nevertheless narrowed down your list of people to speak to even further.

You were at your wit’s end. You weren’t sure how much longer you could stand this isolation. You almost wondered if this was an elaborate scheme created by Benjamin, to drive you to insanity so that, even when it was proven that he had falsified Kieran’s birth certificate and later tried to have you killed, you would be deemed unfit to take the throne. You wouldn’t put it past him. If he was willing to kill you, making you seem legally insane wasn’t so out of the realm of possibility. 

The only solace you had was flipping through wedding magazines. You hadn’t spoken about it with your fiancés, you weren’t entirely sure that they still wanted to be engaged to you after everything that’s happened, but…Well, it was nice to look at the pretty dresses. It was nice to imagine what flowers you would have in your bouquet, what decorations would adorn the walls. Would you go with a traditional wedding march or would you choose a classical rendition of a modern song? Would Layla be your maid of honor? You hoped she would. What would you do in lieu of a father-daughter dance? What you bypass that tradition entirely? You didn’t exactly have a  father figure in your life. Would it be a stuffy ceremony and reception, or would you finally take a chance and make things personal to you? 

You found yourself fiddling with your engagement ring every time you got too far into your thoughts. It was a rare comfort in the hotel room. Nearly everything there was property of the hotel. You only have a small fraction of your wardrobe, your phone, and your computer. And, of course, your ring. Everything else belonged to someone else. It reminded you too much of the palace—that someone else was in control, that someone else was positioning you to be a perfect little doll—even if that wasn’t the intent. But the ring was yours, and the ring was your mother’s. 

What would she do, if she saw you? Would she hold you tight, smooth down your hair, and tell you you were the strongest woman she knew? Would she tell you stories about when you were younger and how she wondered what kind of woman you would become, and tell you that she was beyond proud of who you are? What would she think of your fiancés? She’d get along with Steven and Jake, you think. Marc, too, but she’d have to warm up to him. She used to tell you about how, if there was ever anything you should look for in a man, it was for him to be smart, and kind, and passionate. And you supposed you did—all wrapped in three wonderful men. 

It was hard, not having her. You had gotten good at pushing down the pain of her not being here anymore. There was always an ache, but it was dull. You kept yourself distracted with your duties, trying to live up to Benjamin's expectations. If you kept yourself busy, you wouldn’t hurt. You thought if you tried to build a good relationship with the only parent you had left, that maybe things would be okay again. Maybe the pain would go away. It was funny, almost, how wrong you were. 

Now the weight of it all was starting to crash down on you. You didn’t have a family anymore. You supposed you hadn’t really had one for a long time now, not since your mother died. But you had tried to delude yourself into thinking Benjamin and Kieran cared, that they just had a funny way of showing it. You were alone now. You wondered if you would always be alone. 

Because, you wanted to believe that Marc, Jake, and Steven would still want to be with you. You thought about how Marc had kissed you, how they all took care of you in the hospital, how they risked it all so you could out Benjamin as the horrible man he truly was. A person doesn’t do that if they don’t care. 

But, at the same time, a fear began to settle deep in your heart. They hadn’t asked for any of this. They probably never wanted to marry you in the first place. They were just as forced into this as you were. After all of this was said and done…If they wanted out, you wouldn’t blame them. Letting them go, though…That might just be too heartbreaking. You really, really, really didn’t want to think about that. 

And yet, it was the thing that plagued your mind the most. 

“And…this is allowed?” you asked, looking between the two lawyers standing before you. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. It was what you had wanted, but…You didn’t think you would get to see them again so soon.

Foggy nodded. “The investigation has determined they’ve had no involvement in your poisoning. Parliament approved them coming to see you.”

“And…and it won’t mess things up when I have to go be questioned?” You couldn’t afford for this to be ruined. Even if you wanted to see them again…You would rather suffer than for there to be room to argue you were being manipulated. 

“You don’t have to worry, Your Highness,” Matt said. “We’ve dotted our i’s and crossed our t’s. We wouldn’t do anything if we thought it would ruin the investigation.”

You nodded. “Okay. Are…are they here?”

“I’m here.”

All self-control exited the building when you heard his voice. You ran past Matt and Foggy, straight to him, throwing your arms around his neck, holding him so tight that he nearly stumbled over. He barked out a laugh, his arms snaking around your waist, catching himself before the two of you fell to the floor. 

“I missed you, too, dove. I missed you too,�� he said, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m here now. We’re together now.”

“Please don’t leave me again.”

And you meant it. You really meant it. It felt almost pathetic, how you had latched onto this relationship so quickly, how it started out as a way for your father to pin your death on an innocent. Did they think you were this pathetic? 

“I won’t ever leave you again.”

And you hoped he meant it. 

“Your questioning is at the end of the week,” Matt said. “We’ll call later to set up a meeting to prepare you for it.”

They then left, and you and your fiancés were all alone again. And nothing could have made you feel as ecstatic and melancholic at the same time. 

“Can we lay down? I’m on the verge of collapse,” he joked. “I can’t remember the last time I got to lay down in a real bed.”

“Of course,” you said, unwinding yourself from him, taking his hand and leading him toward the bed. 

He kicked off his shoes before climbing on the bed, tugging you with him. You laughed as you fell on top of him, letting him wind his arms around you, rolling over so the two of you were on your sides. Jake held your body close to his, an arm wrapped around you, a hand caressing your face, your legs all tangled up with his. He gave you a dopey smile as he looked at you, what you hoped to be pure adoration brimming in his eyes. His voice was husky as he said, “The others are lucky I share you with them. Though, I don’t plan on sharing any time soon. ”

“Oh? They’re lucky?” 

Your heart stuttered in your chest. Perhaps he did truly care, perhaps he did want to stay. But what of Marc and Steven? What if they wanted to go? Would you have to lose all of them? And could you really be sure Jake wanted to stay? Was he just being kind? Was he just acting like this so he wouldn’t hurt you more than you’ve already been hurt? Did he feel like he had no way out? 

“Mhm. If I wanted to, I could keep you all to myself, forever and ever.” His lips brushed against yours. You were conflicted—did you want to cut him off, kiss him til you both were breathless? Or did you want to hear him talk, let his voice be a comfort to you? “But you make Steven happy. And you make Marc really happy. Poor guy was giving us wrinkles from all of his brooding. But he smiles a lot around you.”

“That still gives you guys wrinkles,” you giggled, reaching up, rubbing your thumb over the crows feet crinkling around his eyes. You wanted to memorize their face. You wanted to commit every freckle, every wrinkle, every twitch of their lips, every crinkle of their brows, to memory. You wanted to be able to see them every time you closed your eyes. You wanted to be able to remember this. You wanted to remember this moment.

“Mm, but they’re better wrinkles,” Jake said, nuzzling his face into your hand. “Those wrinkles are a reminder of how much we care about you. Those wrinkles are welcomed.”

You bit down on your lip. You never imagined before that someone, anyone, would care about you as much as your fiancés did. Or at least how you imagined they did. You still couldn’t place how they truly felt, if they might have been pretending for your sake. You always imagined that you would be tolerated at best by whoever you married. Benjamin, you supposed, was to blame for that. He, and Kieran, had wrecked your self-confidence, made you feel little and small and completely worthless. But being with them…It made you feel special. 

“Kiss me,” you whispered, “please.”

Jake’s mouth twitched up into a smile as he leaned in. His lips molded perfectly to yours. He kissed you like if he stopped, he would no longer breathe. He kissed you like you were giving him life. And you found yourself pressing your body impossibly closer to him, clinging to him like he would disappear if you ever let go. You reached up, your hand gripping his hair, relishing in the moan he let out. 

“Fuck, dove, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he groaned, his fingers digging into your flesh as he held onto you. 

“I need more,” you whispered against his lips. “Please, I need all of you.”

He pulled away, his eyes wide. For a second, you were worried if you had gone too far. If this was the thing that was going to send him running. But as you looked at his blown out pupils, listening to his labored breath, you hoped you were wrong. 

“I don’t have a condom, dove—”

“I don’t care,” you said. “I just want you, please. I want you inside me. I need to feel good.”

Jake moved faster than you could’ve expected. His clothes were removed in a flash, revealing a toned body. If you were honest, you had imagined what he looked like before. You imagined the thick muscles he hid beneath the suits he was forced to wear at formal events, beneath the hoodie and jeans he wore at the safe house. You imagined each ridge and dip, thought of what it would be like to trace his body, to pepper every inch of him in kisses. But nothing could have ever prepared for just how beautiful he looked. You were no stranger to this kind of pleasure, but god, you had never seen anyone who looked quite as angelic as your fiancés. 

But when he finally tugged off his boxers? His hardened cock, already leaking with precum, springing free? The sight of him made your fucking mouth water. You couldn’t stop yourself from reaching out, from touching him. He was so thick, your fingers couldn’t touch when you wrapped your hand around him. 

Jake let out a hiss as you stroked him, grabbing your wrist and stopping you. “Shit, dove, you’re gonna make me cum on the spot.”

“Good,” you whispered, leaning in to kiss him. 

“No, no, we’re focusing on you, okay? All about you,” he said, pulling off the sundress you wore followed by your bra and panties, leaving you bare beside him. 

Part of your heart ached. The irrational part of your brain made you wonder if he didn’t want you to pleasure him because he wasn’t attracted to you, because he didn’t want you like that. That he would do what he could to take your mind off of things, but that he didn’t and wouldn’t derive any pleasure from it. That he was only hard because he wanted to have sex, that he would only cum because of the stimulation. That it had nothing to do with you. That it had everything to do with biological responses to stimuli. 

The other part of your heart soared. You’d had sex before, but it was never anything great. You’d been with men who only cared about getting themselves off, where you were only a vessel for that pleasure to be achieved. You always had to pretend you came, always had to finish yourself off later. No one you had ever been with cared about your pleasure, about making sure you had a good time. And you didn’t doubt that Jake would make sure every moment was enjoyable. 

His hand dipped down between your legs, swirling over your clit, pressing into your slick cunt, making sure you were completely ready for him. One finger pushed past, then another, slowly curling in and out. Jake leaned in, his lips ghosting over yours. “I only care about making you feel good, dove. That’s all that matters.”

“Fuck me, please,” you said. 

Jake pulled his hand from between your legs. You let out a whimper at the loss of contact. But you didn’t have much time to whine, as he rolled you onto your back, his body hovering over yours. Still, he was moving to slow for you. You reached between your bodies, taking his cock, guiding him into you. 

“Fuck,” Jake groaned, slowly thrusting into you. “You feel so fuckin’ good, dove.”

He kept a slow pace, letting you feel every inch of him as he fucked you. His head dipped down, pressing sloppy kisses up and down the valley of your breasts, nipping at the soft flesh of your breast. You hooked yours legs over his hips, arms wrapping around him, holding him close to you. You didn’t know how long this would last—this moment or him being with you. You wanted to cherish every second while you still could. 

A tension started to build, a cord deep in the pit of your belly began to tighten with every thrust. He one particular spot, and you found your nails digging into his skin. You felt his smirk against your skin as he kissed you, making sure to hit that spot again and again and again with near deadly precision. Fuck, it was almost unfair how good this felt. 

How long would this last, you wondered? How long would Jake, and Marc, and Steven stick around? Would this be the only time you got to feel like this? Would you get to do this more, get to experience it with Steven and Marc next? Or was this just a one-time thing, something to remember them by? If the investigation had already revealed they had no involvement…What reason did they have to stay? With all the outrage, with all insanity happening, it would be the perfect opportunity to leave. And they certainly had every reason, every right, to do so. But god you wanted to be selfish, wanted to make them stay. 

You choked out a sob, a hand flying up to cover your mouth. Jake hesitated, slowing his thrusts, lifting his head. You felt his question of concern on the tip of his tongue. Quickly, you said, your words slightly slurred, “Feels so good. Don’t stop, please.”

“Whatever you want, dove,” he whispered, “it’s yours.”

Then don’t ever leave me, you wanted to say. But that was too unfair to him, and to Marc and Steven. Instead, you said, “I’m so close.”

His thrusts picked up again, hitting that tender spot again and again. Stars began to dot in the corners of your eyes, the cord in your belly tightening and tightening until—it snapped. You cried out as the tidal wave of pleasure consumed you, your eyes squeezing shut, your legs tightening around Jake’s waist, holding him close to you. He came soon after, filling you with his spend, his breaths labored as he came down from his own high. 

“Was that good?” he asked, pressing his forehead against yours. 

“Perfect. It was perfect,” you said, reaching up, pushing his messy curls out of his face. “Thank you.”

He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You’re so adorable, dove. C’mon, lemme clean you up.”

But you grabbed his arm as he started to get up, started to pull out of you. “Can we…Can we just stay like this please? I wanna enjoy this a lil while longer.”

He nodded, but adjusted the two of you so you were lying on your sides, your limbs entangled together, his cock still buried inside you. He still wore a dopey smile as he looked at you, caressing your face in one of his large hands. “I’m just gonna rest my eyes for a minute, okay, dove?” he said. 

You nodded, watching as Jake’s eyes fluttered shut, as he nestled into the pillows. You reached down, grabbing at the blanket, pulling it up and over your bodies. He snuggled into it, into you, keeping his arm wound around you, not letting you go. 

“I don’t want to lose you,” you whispered, sure that he couldn’t hear you as a quiet snore escaped him.. “Of all the heartache I’ve ever had…That would be the worst, I think.”

[starryevermore]

do not chastise the dove (5) ✧ steven grant, marc spector, jake lockley

do not chastise the dove ✧ a royal moon knight au | ao3 | pinterest board

pairing: knight!steven grant x fem!princess!reader x knight!marc spector x knight!jake lockley

series summary: you were a princess who would rather be anything but a royal; he was the knight her father forced her to marry—a true match made in hell if there ever was one. but, as the wedding inches closer and closer, it seems that, perhaps, your father had finally done something right by you. 

chapter summary: the pieces start to come together.

word count: 3,449

warnings?: discussion of affair, discussion of dubcon, mention of miscarriage, shitty police officer, mention of anxiety, not proofread

It was almost scary how much Charlotte looked like Kieran. Some part of you had deluded yourself that perhaps it was a trick of the light in the photo, something that was misleading about their likeness. But, staring her in the face now…Looking at the same slope of the nose, the same color eyes, the same hair color…It made it incredibly obvious how little Kieran looked like you and your mother, how he only barely looked like your father. 

Charlotte sunk into a curtsy as you stood in front of her. “Your Highness.”

“Please, don’t do that. I don’t like those kinds of formalities,” you said. She rose back up, her hands clasped in front of her. You’d seen the maids stand in a similar position many times over the years as they waited to be directed to do a job. Old habits die hard, you supposed. You held your hand out to her, and said, “I’m Y/N. This is my fiancé Marc, and my bodyguard Layla. And I’m sure you already know Jessica. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Charlotte, ma’am. Please, come inside,” she said, shaking your hand. 

Charlotte’s home was quaint. It wasn’t much bigger than the safe house, and it was styled in a similar minimalist manner. You wondered if that was truly Charlotte’s decorating style, or if it was just another way for your father to exert control over her. Even with her being hidden away from the rest of the kingdom, he still had her pinned under his thumb. She led all of you to the living room, taking a seat in an armchair, inviting the rest of you to make yourselves comfortable. You sat between Marc and Layla on the couch, Jessica electing to sit on the arm of the couch next to Layla. 

“I’m sure you have many questions,” Charlotte said to you. “I don’t know how much Jessica has explained to you or how much you’ve figured out on your own, but you can ask me anything you wish.”

“I don’t know where to begin,” you admitted. It was all still such a surprise to you. To have it confirmed that your family had been waiting to kill you and finding out that your brother was the child of an affair and that affair had been hidden all these years? All in one day? It was overwhelming to say the least. “…Why don’t you tell me how the story starts?”

Charlotte nodded, looking down at her lap, a shuddering breath escaping her. “I was young. I just begun working at the palace. I’d hoped for more back then. I wanted to work in a museum or an archive. I went to school for that, you know. But I was too young, a woman, and inexperienced. I was lucky to even get a job at the palace. I kept my head down, for the most part. I didn’t exactly want to be there. I wanted so much more. But money is money.”

“I hear that,” Marc muttered. At your confused glance, he explained, “I didn’t want to be a Moon Knight. But I barely finished high school. I didn’t have a lot of skillsets. We can talk about it later, if you’d like.”

You nodded, then looked back to Charlotte. “I’m so sorry. I wish you’d been able to live out your dream.”

“Maybe one day,” she said with a bittersweet smile. “I still wonder how it happened, you know. Getting the attention of the king. Like I said, I kept my head down. I mostly talked to my superiors and occasionally my coworkers when necessary. Somehow, I caught his eye. The king watched me, a lot. He never really tried to hide that. I suppose you don’t have to when you���re a man like him. It was a long time before he spoke to me, though. I had been cleaning the throne room when he came in, started talking to me. He seemed to know so much about me already. I remember him asking if I had ever seen the royal library. I hadn’t, so he took me there. That was the first time he…you know.”

Your heart clenched, hard. That library had been built for your mother. Your mother had always told you that the only reason she had accepted your father’s proposal was because he promised to build the most beautiful library in all the kingdom in the palace. Before then, the royal library was housed in an archive far, far from the palace. For your father to disrespect your mother like that…It made you see red. 

“Your mother, Elaine…She walked in on us. I never felt more humiliated. I hadn’t wanted any of that to happen, but…It’s impossible to say no to your father. He’ll manipulate and scheme until he has what he wants.”

“I understand that all too well,” you said, the anger still bubbling below the surface. You tried to not let that rage slip into your tone. Charlotte was not to blame for your father’s actions. “What did my mother do?”

“She was sympathetic. She was the kindest woman I’d ever met. We both knew there was no way to get out of the situation…That your father would harm anyone who stood in his way. But she showed me how to make things more manageable, how to keep his cruelty at bay. It didn’t always work, but it helped.” She looked away, staring out the window, taking a long pause. “And then I got pregnant, and it only got worse. He became more possessive, more cruel. He still made me work, but he also made me keep quiet about who the father of my child was. At that point, your mother had had a few miscarriages. Your father blamed her.”

Layla rolled her eyes, scoffing. “Of course he would.”

“She took a lot of pictures, Elaine did. She kept copies of ultrasounds, took pictures of important events. There were even a few home videos. Your father hated it. Early on in my pregnancy, he’d decided that he would pass off my child as his and Elaine’s. It was easy enough to do. When I first found out I was pregnant, Elaine had gotten sick. She didn’t make any public appearances for a few weeks and…When she got better, your father decided to cancel all of them for the next several months, keeping up the ruse that she was six. Nine months later, he announced that an heir was born. I loved your mother, she was a great friend…But it still hurt to see her get show off my son, pretending Kieran was her own. It pained her, too, I think.”

“I know you got to stay in the palace for a while after that. I saw a picture of you at Kieran’s first birthday. When…when did they—my father—send you away?”

“Not long after that, actually,” Charlotte said. “Your father had been growing paranoid that, as Kieran got older, someone would recognize our similarities. He bought me this house, sent me away. He has his advisor…Harrow, now, but he’s sent his others before, bring me anything I wish in exchange for my silence. I’ve been alone here ever since.”

“My father…He destroyed a lot of evidence you existed. But Marc found this picture, of you at Kieran’s birthday. I wanted to know…Did you leave it behind?”

Charlotte shook her head. “That would’ve been your mother. Most of the pictures Benjamin destroyed, I later learned were copies. I think your mother always planned for the truth to come out. A few years after I was sent away, she came here. I don’t know how she managed to get here. I believe it was under guise of a doctor’s appointment outside the city. She was a few months pregnant with you, actually. It was around the time the laws changed about who could inherit the throne. It turns out, she had saved all of the pictures and videos of me being pregnant. There was even one from when I was giving birth. It was strange, though, what she managed to record.”

“What do you mean?” Marc asked. 

Charlotte glanced at him, then back to you. “She made sure to record your father talking about falsifying the birth certificate, to have himself and Elaine listed as the parents.”

Your jaw dropped. “She’d been planning this entire time to reveal Kieran was illegitimate.”

Layla looked at you, raising a brow. “Do you think your father knew?”

“It’s…It’s certainly possible. Father was almost as critical of her as he was of me. It would explain some of his animosity. Charlotte, do you still have all of those pictures and videos?”

She nodded. “I boxed them all up after Jessica came here a few days ago. I figured you all would need them.”

“Good. Because we cannot sit on this any longer. My father cannot still sit on the throne, and Kieran certainly cannot be allowed to inherit it.”

Marc’s brows furrowed together. “Wait, I don’t understand. Can you remove the king from the throne?”

“There’s a failsafe, built in nearly a century ago, when there was a lot of in-fighting between the family about who could inherit the throne. The Parliament was still new. It was their first real act, actually. If any member of the royal family attempted to kill, or succeeded in killing, an heir to the throne, then that member could never sit on the throne. Well, there was a lot more legalese to it, but that was the gist of it all,” you said. “If we manage to put it out there that my father organized the assassination attempt…Then Parliament would remove him from the throne.”

Marc looked at you, his brows furrowed together. “How do you know all of these laws off the top of your head?”

“I thought that memorizing all of the laws would make my father proud of me. I thought it would show him that I was dedicated,” you said. “It didn’t work. But, in any case, it’s helpful now at least.”

Jessica raised a brow at you. “Do you have a plan?”

“Do you have any way of getting in contact with Karen Page? She’s the only journalist I trust.”

“Karen? Yeah, I know her. Won’t be a problem.” She looked at Marc. “What about him? We’re not going to be able to get anything done with everyone looking for him.”

“I can go on my own,” Marc said. “If we get back in the city, I can cause a distraction. That’ll give you all time to get to the news station. But, uh, I don’t suppose you know any lawyers, do you know?”

Jessica snorted. “I know of a couple of good ones.”

“Fantastic,” you said. “Charlotte, you can say no if you wish. But I have to ask…Would you mind joining us in exposing the truth?”

“It would be an honor, Your Highness. It’s about time someone gave the king hell.”

“Then let’s get everything together and go.”

“Alright, but someone else has to drive. I made an exception to my personal rule just this one time, but I’m not doing it again,” Jessica said, tossing the car keys on the coffee table.

You watched as Marc’s face shifted, Jake now fronting. Jake grabbed the keys. “I’ll drive.”

“Where is the princess?”

“I’m not answering anything until my lawyers get here.”

The officer narrowed his eyes at Jake before slamming his hands down on the table. “You’re gonna telling me where you fucking took the princess,” he snarled. 

“I don’t have to tell you anything until my lawyers get here,” Jake said, leaning back in his chair. His hands were cuffed, so it was hard to find a comfortable position to sit in, but he maintained an air of nonchalance. He could tell that it was getting under the officer’s skin. “So why don’t you just run along and go to a donut shop until they get here, yeah? Might be able to actually find a coupla criminals out there if you did. ‘Cause you sure as hell don’t have one in front of you.”

Be careful, Marc muttered. Don’t give him a reason to actually throw us in prison. 

We could take ‘im, Steven argued. 

And that would just make things even worse for us!, Marc snapped. We have a plan. We need to stick to it. Keep our heads down, wait for our lawyers to show up. Alright? We can’t afford to mess this up.

Jake elected to ignore their pickering. 

The officer leaned forward, so close that Jake could tell his breath. It was gross. An odd mixture of stale coffee and Marlboro Reds. It took everything in Jake to not show his disgust. He knew if he did, the officer would find some way to use it to his advantage. “Now you fuckin’ listen here, you better start talking or I’ll hit you so fuckin’ hard that you—”

“I hope you don’t think you can speak to our client like that.”

Jake looked over at the two men who entered the interrogation room. One was slightly taller than the other with short, dark brown hair, wore red sunglasses, and carried a white can. The other had long blonde hair. Both were well-dressed in their suits, the blond carrying a briefcase. Matt Murdock and Foggy Nelson, attorneys at law. 

“Because if you were,” Foggy continued from his previous sentence, “I do recall there being laws that prohibit the use of physical coercion.”

The officer’s lip curled as he looked at the two men. “We’re in the middle of a fuckin’ investigation here.”

“And our client is still entitled to his rights,” Matt said. “We would like a few moments to speak to our client.”

The officer looked between the two lawyers as if he were sizing them up, trying to figure out if there was a way for him to shut them down, to keep them out of the interrogation room, to deny their requests. But, reluctantly, and almost surprisingly, the officer stepped towards the door, muttering that they get fifteen minutes, before leaving them alone. 

Matt and Foggy sat at the table with Jake. No one said anything for a beat, then two. Finally, Matt said, “The princess is safe, if you’re wondering.”

Jake glanced at the two-way mirror. “Are you sure it’s safe to talk about that? While I was more than happy to do this, I don’t actually want to end up in prison.”

“Those cops might be stupid, but they’re not going to totally ruin their investigation. If they want to listen in, they’re going to need a warrant,” Foggy explained. “Until they present one, we are still protected by attorney-client privilege.”

Jake nodded. It didn’t stop the uneasiness from weighing down on him. He’d dealt with cops a lot, both before and after becoming a Moon Knight. He knew the system well enough to know that they don’t follow the rules, that the rules are only enforced when it serves them. If they wanted to break a rule, they would do it and deal with the mess later. 

“Did they all get there okay?” Jake asked. 

Matt nodded. “Layla has been sending updates every step of the way. Everything is going exactly according to plan. But until then—”

Foggy’s phone went off, cutting Matt off from finishing his sentence. Foggy fished his phone out of his pocket, reading over the notification, before looking up at Jake. “They’re starting.”

Matt Jake, “We’re going to have to be ready for the fallout.”

And as Jake glanced at the two-way mirror again, seeing the reflections of Steven and Marc stare back at him, he wasn’t quite sure he was ready for the mess that was about to be made. 

“Thank you for doing this,” you said to Charlotte, the two of you watching as Karen compiled the information Jessica had given to her into a comprehensive news story. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”

After Jake had driven into the city, he split off from the rest of the group. Layla took over driving, making sure that you, Charlotte, and Jessica all arrived at the station. Jessica, who was friends (acquaintances? you weren’t entirely sure—you just knew they had a good enough relationship that Jessica could ask for a favor) with Karen, was able to sneak you into the station. That was the imperative part, if you were being honest. If one person saw you that wasn’t supposed to see you yet…Well, it could be game over. You would be taken right back to your family, and by the time the information was leaked…You weren’t sure you would get to live to see the aftermath. 

That’s why Jake served as a distraction. While you all were busy at the news station, he let the police catch him, let them think they had done something right. His role was just as risky. By letting the police arrest him, there was a decent chance that they might just throw him straight into prison, lock the door, throw away the key. But you were banking on the police trying to interrogate him and Jake wasting their time with non-answers. You weren’t entirely sure what your father said when you were reported as missing, but you were sure that the “finding you alive” part of it was important so that he could have you killed on his own terms. Jake was the key to finding you, and your father was not going to let any information Jake may have go to waste.

“You don’t have to thank me. It’s what’s right,” Charlotte said. 

You, Charlotte, Layla, and Jessica all hid in Karen’s dressing room. Karen eventually was going to go out to start the evening news program before derailing it with breaking news coverage. After she gave a run down of the facts, an interview with yourself and Charlotte would begin, using a laptop Karen had given you to televise your end of the interview. 

You were nervous about what was to come. Your father had no power to stop a broadcast—especially not one as serious as this—but that did not mean he would try to disprove your words. Or worse, he may attempt to run before anyone could catch him. And you weren’t entirely sure which was a worse outcome. 

“The right thing to do is rarely the easy thing to do.” 

Before Charlotte could respond, Karen bid all of you farewell, disappearing out of the room. The anxiety began to set in. You usually tried to hide the signs, so used to your father chastising you for showing yourself as anything other than a perfect princess. But, now…Now, you let your foot tap on the floor, you let your fingers drum against your thigh, you let yourself play with your hair. 

There was a TV hanging in the corner of the room, and Layla turned the volume up when Karen began to speak. 

“Breaking news out of the capital this evening: Despite Marc Spector’s recent arrest in connection with Princess Y/N’s attempted assassination, a private investigation has revealed that the story is far more complex than previously believed. Spector, the investigation reveals, had nothing to do with the event. The true culprit? The King himself.”

Karen paused, and in that pause, Jessica reported to you, “Social media’s already going crazy.”

“Already?” you repeated. “It’s not even been a minute!”

“Beloved princess nearly killed by father? You don’t need a minute for that to blow up.”

“The motive? Well, that’s where it gets complicated,” Karen continued. “Evidence has shown that Prince Kieran, the apparent child of an affair between the king and a now-former maid is not the true heir to the throne. After destroying nearly everything that proved the affair had happened, the King had hoped to hide his infidelity. With the death of the Queen and paying off that former-maid, Princess Y/N was the only thing standing in the way. Yet, everything attempt the King made to hide his affair ended in failure. We now turn to the princess and the former maid to learn the truth behind the King’s actions.”

Layla quickly muted the TV so that it wouldn’t interfere with the interview. You grabbed Charlotte’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “You got this,” you whispered. 

“So do you.”

And, oh, you hoped you did. Because you couldn’t afford to break down on television.