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

[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. 

[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 (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 (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.

[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 (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 (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. 

[starryevermore]

do not chastise the dove (16) ✧ 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 are looking up. 

word count: 3,264

warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, smut, oral (m receiving), dove on top, unprotected sex, piv sex, subby!marc, fluff, pet name (dove), not proofread

It had been three days since the hearing adjourned. Though the outcome was obvious given the evidence presented, it nevertheless made Marc nervous that Parliament had not yet come out with the ruling. What if the whole process was just a farce? What if Parliament came back, said sike, pointed their fingers and laughed as you and the entire kingdom realized that you would never get the justice you deserved? Marc felt sick thinking of the possibilities. 

Still, he tried to keep it together. He needed to stay strong. He knew it was eating you alive, and you needed someone to lean on. He couldn’t be that person for you if he was adding to your worry. So, instead, he whispered comforting words you, held you close to his chest, pressed soft kisses to your forehead. He did everything he wished someone would have done for him. 

“How's she holding up?” Layla asked him when you went to take a nap. 

“She’s…like a zombie,” he said. “It kind of feels like she’s just going through the motion of everything, you know? I try to comfort her, but I don’t think anything’s going to help until we find out what Parliament decides.”

“Torres—one of the guards at Parliament—says they’re going to make an announcement soon,” Layla said, flopping onto the couch. She ran her hands over her face. “Apparently they finished convening this morning. Sam’s planning to hold a press conference about it afterwards.”

“Are they gonna tell our Dove first?” 

Layla shrugged. “Torres didn’t seem sure. He said they’re worried about the information getting leaked to the press early.”

Marc couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes. Seriously? Leaked information? That’s what they were concerned about? Not the fact that a man hellbent on killing his daughter was still sitting on the throne, posing a very real danger to her. “That's fucking bullshit.”

“You know how politicians are. They only care about saving their own skin, no one else’s.”

“Sometimes I wish we could just take things into our own hands—”

You and me both, Steven said. Marc wasn’t facing any reflective surface at the moment, so he couldn’t see Steven. However, Marc imagined he was shaking like a chihuahua. While all three of them were particularly protective of you, Steven was the one who had the most obvious reactions to threats made against you. Steven always had been the one who wore his heart on his sleeve. 

“—but I don’t want to fuck things up for Dove. She deserves to have her peace. I would never forgive myself if I ruined that for her.”

I think we could get away with it, Jake said.

Marc twisted his head around, locking eyes with Jake’s reflection in the window. He narrowed his eyes at Jake and shook his head.

“Are they suggesting you fight anyways?” Layla asked. When Marc nodded, she let out a snort. “You know, when I learned Benjamin arranged an engagement between you and Dove, I knew that you all would protect her.”

Marc raised a brow. “Even with my dislike of the monarchy?”

“You’re a good man, Marc. Even if you despised the monarchy, even if you never loved Dove, you would never do anything that would put her in harm’s way. You’re a good man.”

“Perhaps the best man.”

Marc and Layla twisted their heads to look at you as you padded into the room. You took a seat next to Marc, throwing your legs over his lap, your back resting against the armrest of the couch. Marc’s hands came to rest on your legs, rubbing them up and down. 

“Weren’t you going to take a nap, dove?” Marc asked, ignoring the way his heart stuttered at your proclamation. 

“Couldn’t rest. I’m too nervous to even think about relaxing,” you said. You reached out, placed your hand on top of his. “I meant what I said, Marc. You, and Jake, and Steven, are perhaps the best men I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. And I’ve met a lot of people, good and bad alike.”

Marc’s voice was thick as he struggled to keep his emotions under control, saying, “You think too highly of me, dove. If you knew what I’ve done…I don’t know if you would see me as any better than Benjamin.”

“Your bad doesn’t negate your good, Marc,” you said. You squeezed his hand once, twice, three times. “We’ve all done bad things. No one has only made good decision, only done good things. It’s what you do when you’ve done the bad things that matter. And the fact that you feel so awful about it, that you regret it so badly, shows me how different you are compared to Benjamin. He enjoys hurting people. He takes pleasure in it. What you feel? Also those conflicting feelings? He’s never felt that. That’s what makes you different, and that’s what makes you a good man.”

“I wish I could see myself the way you do,” Marc said. 

“One day, I hope you do.”

Ping!

Layla grabbed her phone, reading a notification. She set her phone to the side, leaning forward, and grabbed the remote sitting on the coffee table. She flipped on the TV and punched the numbers for the channel she was seeking. 

“What’s happening?” you asked. “Did Sam say something?”

“Just to put on the news,” Layla said. 

You turned your attention to the television, your breath catching in your throat. The reporter was outside of the palace. You could see in the background various other reporters from other news stations. Further in the background, you could see the police entering the palace. Could they be…? 

“In the days following the hearing to remove King Benjamin from the throne,” the reporter was saying, “the public has been kept in the dark as Parliament made its final decision on whether he shall remain king or if his daughter, Princess Y/N, would take her rightful place on the throne. However, just minutes ago, we finally got our answer.”

Layla got up from her seat, walking over to stand by you. She placed her hand on your shoulder. Marc squeezed your hand. You squeezed back, hard. Why couldn’t they just get to the point? Why did they have to be so mysterious? Why couldn’t they just be blunt? 

“Our princess will now officially become our Queen Dove,” the reporter said. “The now former king will be removed from the throne. Reports from Parliament suggest that he will now be charged for his attempts on the Queen’s life.”

“Oh my god,” you breathed out. “It’s over?”

The police finally emerged from the palace, Benjamin walking between them, his hands cuffed. He stumbled over his feet as one of the officers gave him a slight push. As he walked by, his eyes caught the camera. His eyes narrowed. It felt like he was glaring directly at you. But, for once, it didn’t strike fear into your heart. 

“It’s over, dove,” Layla said. 

“You’re free,” Marc finished. 

It felt strange. Coming back to the palace after being away for so long, you mean. You had been gone for so long, you almost thought you would never come back. You thought that you would never get to see the portrait of your mother that hung in your wing again. You thought you would never get to sneak down to the kitchens and talk to the head chef as she prepared the menu for the week. You thought you would never get to wander through the gardens and pretend that you were living in a dramatic music video where life was good and you were loved. You thought you would never get to experience the wonderful parts of the palace again.

Now, you stood, hand-in-hand with Marc, looking at the staff that gathered in the main entrance. They didn’t hide their emotions. Perhaps they didn’t want to. Perhaps they never had been conditioned to hide them. (And, oh, what a painful thought that was. What was it like to never be chastised for being human?) It was almost unnerving, seeing so many of them smile at you. The staff had always been kind to you before. But, still, you had never seen them all together at once. You had never seen so many people happy to see you at once. 

Pearl, the housekeeper, a kind woman who was the same age as your mother would be if she was still alive, stepped forward. She walked up to you and Marc, stopping a few short feet in front of you. She sank into a low curtsy. “Welcome home, Your Majesty.”

“There’s no need for formalities, Pearl,” you said. She rose back to her full height. “It’s…It’s good to be home.”

“We’ve been clearing out Benjamin’s affects after he was arrested,” she said. “Would you like your things moved into suite?”

“I would rather his suite be boarded up and forgotten,” you said. “But…is it possible to be moved to the north wing? I always liked the view of the gardens.”

“It’s also much closer to the library. An excellent choice, Your…Y/N,” Pearl said. “We’ll begin immediately.”

“Actually…Take the night off,” you said. You looked at the rest of the staff. “All of you, take the night off. I think we’ve all earned a moment to relax.”

“If I may—” Marc started. 

You looked at him, your head tilting to the side. “Yes?”

“I…know it won’t be the exact same, and I know it won’t make up for the trauma of it all, but I was thinking perhaps we could do a redo of your birthday ball? I was originally thinking just us and Layla if she wished, but…A night of fun might be nice for everyone.”

You couldn’t stop the smile from stretching across your face. “That’s so thoughtful. I love that idea.” You looked back at the staff, and said, “If everyone would like to gather in the ballroom, our makeshift ball will begin shortly. Of course, if you would take the night off and return to your homes, by all means, go ahead. There will be no hard feelings.”

“Do you need me to get you anything, Your…Y/N?” Pearl asked. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’m not making you work when you’re off the clock!” you said. “Marc, Layla, and I can handle it.”

You felt almost like a little kid as you grabbed Marc and Layla’s hands, dragging them to the ballroom. Perhaps it was because this was something that reminded you of your childhood. When you were younger, when your mother was still alive, she would take you to the ballroom and spin ‘round and ‘round and ‘round. She would tell you that one day, you would meet your prince charming, and he would sweep you off your feet. With him, you would feel like you were flying. You remembered asking her if she felt that way with your father. You remembered her laughing, petting your hair, and telling you that, sometimes, marriage is not for love at all. But, if she had anything to do with it, you would only marry a man who loved you as freely and easily as he breathed. As you got older, after you lost her, you thought her words were a fairytale. 

Now, as Marc set up the stereo system and as you plugged in your phone, set to play the soundtrack from Bridgerton (what? it was an incredible show! you most admired Anthony and Kate’s relationship), you realized that the fairytale was far closer to reality than you once believed. 

The music filled the air, the orchestral cover of Taylor Swift’s Wildest Dreams sending everyone dancing. Some did a traditional waltz. Others swayed back and forth, one partner’s arms wrapped around the other’s waist, the other’s hands resting on the one’s shoulders. Layla had taken to finding those who were standing off the side, encouraging them to join the dancing. 

You were pulled from your thoughts and into Marc’s chest. He held one of your hands, his other hand resting on your waist. You placed your free hand on his shoulder. He spun you ‘round and ‘round and ‘round the dance floor. You couldn’t stop the laughter from building in your chest, easily falling out and echoing throughout the room. You couldn’t recall the last time you felt so…light. 

Perhaps your mother had been right all along. 

Marc held you close against him, his heading dipping, his lips brushing against your the shell of your ear. “I love you,” he whispered. 

Your heart skipped a beat. He said it. And he meant it. You could practically feel the emotion reverberating off of him. You leaned in as he pulled back, taking a moment to admire you. When you saw the way he looked at you, you practically melted to the floor. Your lips ghosting over his as you asked, “Bedroom?”

You didn’t have to ask twice. 

It was the first time your fiancés had seen your bedroom. And, though your bedroom was nice and impeccably clean, you felt an inkling of insecurity creep up inside you. Did they think the colors were too childish? Did they think the blankets were too frilly? Were they judging the amount of decorative pillows? An apology was on the tip of your tongue, but you swallowed it as Marc took your face in his hands, pressing a kiss to your lips. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers tangling in his pretty curls. You weren’t quite sure what compelled you to do so, but you found yourself tugging at his hair from the roots. Marc let out a delicious moan. Fuck. You wanted to make him make those pretty sounds all night long. 

“I. Love. You. I. Love. You. I. Love. You,” Marc said, punctuating each word with a kiss. He practically chanted it like an oath, like he was scared that if he didn’t say it enough times, you wouldn’t believe in the sincerity of his words. 

“I know you do, my love,” you said, leaving a trail of kisses down his jaw. “I love you so much. You’re so good to me. So, so good for me.”

Marc took a step forward, you took a step back, repeating the steps until your legs hit your bed and the two of your tumbled onto the mattress. Marc landed on top of you, but you were quick to roll with him so that you were the one on top. 

He watched you with wide eyes, his mouth slightly agape, as you grabbed the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head and tossing it aside. You slipped your bra straps off your shoulders, reached around behind your back and unclasped your bra, tossing it so it joined your shirt. “Fuck, you look beautiful, dove,” he said, reaching up, his calloused hands caressing your soft skin. “How did I get so lucky?”

“I’m in the lucky one, my love,” you said, leaning down, kissing him softly. “You take such good care of me, makes me wanna take care of you.”

Marc let out a whine, his hands coming to rest on your hips, gripping you tight. You felt him, poking at your thigh, and you pressed another kiss to his lips. 

“Do you want me to take care of you, my love? Want me to treat you as sweetly as you treat me?”

“Please, dove,” Marc breathed out. “Need you, want you, so bad.”

Without a word, you climbed off of him, standing just in front of him. He let out another whine, trying to follow after you, propping himself up on his elbows to see what you were doing. You unbuttoned your pants, tugging them and your panties down your legs, letting them pool on the floor. 

“Your turn, my love,” you said, reaching out, helping Marc pull his shirt over his head. Marc discarded his pants and boxers on his own, climbing further onto the bed. He sank into the pillows, watching you with bated breath as crawled up to join him. You practically drooled as you neared his col, all hard and leaking precum. You took it in your hand, stroking it. You leaned down, lapping at the precum. “So good for me. Want me to suck your cock, hm?”

“Please,” he said. The desperation was clear in his voice. “Please, need you. Only need you.”

“Mm, you beg so pretty,” you practically purred. “I’ll give you anything you want, my love. Anything at all.”

You took his cock in your mouth, suckling at the tip. Marc threw his head back, letting out a loud moan. Pride swelled in your chest. You liked knowing that you could bring Marc this kind of pleasure. He was always wound up, always on guard. After learning his story, you understood why. But that didn’t mean you didn’t want to help him unwind. So, knowing that he could feel as free with you as you did with him…It gave you a high like no other. 

Marc’s hand flew to the back of your head, guiding you to take more of his cock in your mouth. You batted at his hand and pulled away. Another whine escaped his mouth. 

“Nuh uh, my love. You take what I give you, okay? I’m taking care of you,” you said. His pretty lips fell into a pout, but he pulled his hand away without a word. “…but you are desperate, aren’t you, hm?”

Marc nodded quickly. “Just want you, just wanna feel good.”

You crawled up his body, straddling him. His cock brushed against your entrance, his hands flying to your hips. You were almost certain your hips would soon wear bruises from his fingertips. You leaned in, brushing your lips against his. “You only deserve to feel good, my love.”

You reached down, taking his cock in your hand, guiding it between your wet folds. A moan escaped you as you sank down his length. “F-Fuck, you’re so big, feels so good,” you said. You held onto Marc’s shoulders as you rolled your hips. “It’s like you were made for me, yeah?”

“Made for you,” he echoed. “Don’t think I’m gonna last long, dove—”

He certainly wouldn’t. Your cunt clenched down on him, squeezing hard. You picked up your speed, desperate for you both to reach your release. You both needed this, you both deserved this. 

“I know, my love, I know.” You pressed kisses down his neck, nipping at the point where his neck met his shoulder. “Let go, my love. Let for me, yeah? I’m close behind you.”

“F-Fuck, I’m cumming—”

Marc came with a loud moan, wrapping his arms around you, squeezing you tight, his hips lifting off the mattress, burying himself further in you. Your release followed, collapsing on his chest, your head spinning as you came down from your high. The two of you remained like that for a long few minutes, Marc’s softening cock still buried in you, you resting on his chest, the two of you catching your breath. 

“I love you,” Marc whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” you said, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. 

“…and Steven wants me to tell you that he’d like you to ride him like that.”

You laughed so hard you snorted. “Anything for my loves,” you said between giggles. “Anything you want, I’ll give.”

[starryevermore]

do not chastise the dove (17) ✧ 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 take your position as queen.

word count: 4,331

warnings?: fluff, mention of sex trafficking, mention of benjamin, pet name (dove), not proofread

You felt like you were going to throw up. Your stomach was in a constant churn, the food you ate for breakfast not sitting well with you. You had known the process of accession was a rather fast on, at least in terms for officially making you Queen. The actual coronation would take time to happen. The earliest it could happen would be a year. But that was more for show. The actual accession began with the Accession Council and Parliament proclaiming you as Queen. Sam had had that done as soon as Benjamin was removed from the palace. Now, you needed to go sign the proclamation. 

It terrified you to go do it. Really, you knew that it shouldn’t have. All you had to do was go outside, not show your nerves to the throngs of photographers and journalists outside the palace, make it to the Parliament building, wave through another mass of photographers and journalists, sign the proclamation, and be on your merry way. And, yet, there were still a million things that could go wrong. It made your head spin to consider all of the possibilities. 

Perhaps today wasn’t the best day to sport an all-white look. You elected to wear a white, double-breasted blazer and matching dress pants, a simple white blouse beneath your blazer. You fought the urge to bobble in your white pumps. All eyes were on you. If you fell…everyone would see. Worse, your outfit would serve as a stark reminder of the catastrophe. Yet, you tried to remember the feeling you had when you looked at yourself in the mirror. You had, for the first time, truly felt like a Dove. 

And, god, when Steven looked at you? It turned you into a pile of goo on the floor. The way his eyes lit up, his mouth slightly agape as he looked you over. He could barely contain his smile—you could practically hear the smile in his voice—as he said, “Bloody hell, you look stunning, dove!”

Perhaps it was the tiniest bit pathetic to admit, but his words were enough to get you out the door, ready to take on the day and all that it would bring. (After, of course, you kissed him so hard and so senselessly your lipstick smeared across his face.) 

Together, the two of you left your (now shared) bedroom and made your way out of the palace. You passed some of the staff on the way out, pausing long enough to greet them and wish them a good day, until you finally reached the front doors to the palace. You paused as you stared at the doors. The nerves started to eat away at you again. Steven seemed to sense your unease, and he gave your hand a gentle squeeze. 

You took a deep breath in, out. You repeated again once more, twice more, thrice more. Then—

“I’m ready.”

The doors were opened. You fought the urge to raise your hand to shield your eyes from the blinding flashes of light that erupted from the photographers. Instead, you painted a smile on your face—not too big, so that there wouldn’t be stories about how you reveled in the former King’s failure, but not too small, so that there wouldn’t be stories about how you were vapid and didn’t care about the common folk. As you and Steven walked to the car, you made sure to wave at the crowd. You were surprised to see so many people there who just wanted to catch a glimpse of you. You supposed you’d been away from this life for so long now that you’d forgotten that the Royal Family had so many loyal followers. 

“Your Majesty! Your Majesty!”

Normally, you tried to ignore the shouting. Most of the time, it was just invasive questions from reporters. But, this one caught your interest. It was the shouting of a little girl. You turned your head, nearly gasping when you saw her. 

Could it be? Could it really be her? It had been years. Perhaps your memory was fuzzy? And yet, in your heart, you knew her to be the same girl Jake had stopped from spooking one of the horses in the parade as she ran to you—an incident that would have surely ended in disaster had he not stepped in. She was older, yes, but you could never forget that face. 

You dropped Steven’s hand and knelt in front of the girl. “Hello,” you said to her. 

She beamed at you and held out a flower to you. It was a daisy, and it was missing a few petals, but it was one of the prettiest flowers you had ever seen. “It’s a Daisy, like me,” she said. “That’s my name, I mean. Do you remember me, Your Majesty?”

“Of course I remember the little princess who greeted me at the parade,” you said. You tucked the daisy behind your ear. “You’ve grown so much! Soon, you’re going to look just like a Queen.”

Daisy giggled. “I wanna be just like you, Your Majesty. I wanna be strong, just like you.”

“I’m sure you already are,” you said. You looked up at Steven, who was starting to kneel in front of Daisy, too. “My love, do you remember Daisy? She was at the parade, the first one after my mother passed?”

Steven’s face shifted into Jake’s. He said, “Of course I remember little Daisy.” He gave a teasing look. “I hope you learned to not run in front of horses, little lady.”

“Yes, I learned,” Daisy said. She looked back at you. “Can I tell you a secret, Your Majesty?”

You nodded. She stepped closer to you, one hand raised to shield her mouth as she whispered in your ear, “I hope I meet someone who loves me like they love you.”

You smiled as she stepped back. “I’m sure you’ll meet your Prince Charming someday, Daisy.”

“No, I don’t want a Prince Charming. I want a Moon Knight!” she said. 

You spared a glance at Jake, your smile growing ever so slightly, then looked back at Daisy. “I’m sure you will. It was so nice talking to you again, Daisy. I hope our paths cross again.”

“Bye, Your Majesty!” Daisy said as you started to rise back up to your full height. 

“Goodbye, Daisy. And thank you so much for the flower,” you said. 

Jake rose back up, too, and slipped his hand into yours. You gave a final wave to Daisy, before continuing your walk to the car. Your smile felt a lot more natural now. It didn’t quite feel like you had an expression painted on your face. It felt like…Well, like you had a reason to smile. 

When you reached the car, Jake opened the door for you and you slipped inside. Jake followed behind you, shutting the door as he took his seat. You reached for his hand, lacing your fingers with his own. As the car lurched forward, you scooched closer to Jake, coming to a stop when you were able to comfortably rest your rest on his shoulder. 

Jake gave your hand a squeeze, and said, “I can’t believe we saw her again.”

“I think it’s a sign things are finally are going to be okay,” you said. 

“It does make me think about something,” Jake said. You lifted your head to look at him. “I know you and Steven already talked about it, but…I just wanted to let you know that I’m all in. Whenever you’re ready to get married, to have kids…I’m ready, too. We don’t have to talk about it more right now, but I just wanted you to know.”

You smiled at him, your eyes crinkling at the corners as you looked at him. How did you ever get so lucky? How did you ever manage to have not one, not two, but three incredible men fall in love you? 

“Thank you for telling me,” you said. “I have a lot going on this week, but we’ll talk more about it soon, okay? As soon as the dust starts to settle, we can focus on what our future looks like.”

Jake nodded as the car came to a stop outside the Parliament building. The door opened. Jake stepped out. He held his hand out for you to take as you stepped out. You gave a smile, focusing on him instead of the bright flashes from the photographers. You continued to hold his hand as the two of you walked up to the entrance. 

Breathe in.

Breath out.

You will be fine.

No one can take this from you. 

No one can hurt you now.

The rest was a blur. Shaking Sam’s hand. Taking a seat at the desk. Posing for a picture with Sam on one side of you, Jake on the other. Picking up the pen. Signing the proclamation. Picking up the proclamation. Posing for another picture with the signed document. Looked at Jake. Forgot about the photographers. Forgot about the journalists. Leaned in. Kissed him. Pulled away. Looked at him with all the love and adoration in your heart and soul. He looked back, just the same. 

That picture made the front page of every major news outlet in the kingdom. 

“Donate the desk to a museum,” you said to Pearl. “The chair, it can go, too. Let the museum decide how to deal with it. The documents can go to the archive, or the library if they’re still necessary.

Pearl nodded, jotting down your requests. “And what desk would you like to use?”

“I’d like an original,” you said. “I’ve been looking into small business owners, local craftsman. I want to support my people where I can. I’ll have a list by the end of the week and we can start contacting from there.”

She raised a brow. “You know I’m not your advisor or your secretary, right?”

It was teasing, and you knew it. But you felt the need to assure her anyways. “I know, and I’m sorry for roping you into this. It’s just…A lot of it is overlapping. I hope to find an advisor and secretary by the end of the week as well.”

“I understand, Your—Y/N,” Pearl said. “I was only teasing.”

“And I wanted you to know that I don’t mean to overwork you,” you said. 

She reached over, grabbed your hand, and squeezed. Her eyes crinkled as she smiled at you. “I don’t mind. I, and the rest of the staff, would rather work for you than him. Do you understand? There is nothing you can do that would be worse than the working conditions he put us through.”

“I just worry,” you said. “I don’t want anyone to compare me to him. Sometimes, I think if I don’t make myself and my intentions clear, people will make the parallels.”

“They probably always will. That’s how the people are, you know,” Pearl said. “But I think just as many people would draw parallels between you and your mother.”

You didn’t mind that. People had been drawing parallels between you and Elaine since, perhaps, you were born. Perhaps it was because you were the only daughter. Perhaps it was because no one wanted to compare the “spare” to the King. But, regardless, you’ve spent an entire lifetime of people telling you that you reminded them of your mother, that you looked just like her, that you acted just like her. Those sorts of comments brought you a sort of joy. Your mother was your idol. In a palace that was cold and cruel, she was warm and welcome. You wanted to be just like her. After you lost her, you clung to those comments closer than ever. 

In some ways, you mused, that was why Benjamin and Kieran and Harrow’s comments always stung. You could handle them chastising you. That had been your life for as long as you could remember (though, you had to admit, it was less obvious when you were younger). But when you lost your mother…It felt like they were attacking her, too. Maybe they were. Or, at least, Benjamin and Harrow were. You weren’t too sure about Kieran. (You didn’t know if you would ever be sure about Kieran.) 

“You’ll never know how much that means to me, Pearl,” you said. You glanced at the clock on the wall. That would have to go, too. You fought the urge to say that to Pearl. You knew she understood you wanted everything that could have been considered Benjamin’s gone. Instead, you said, “If you would like to leave early today, you may. You’ve been a tremendous help to me, and I would like for you to enjoy some time for yourself. It’s a beautiful day out.”

Pearl smiled. “Thank you. Are you sure you want me to go? I don’t mind to help. It is my job.”

“As is taking care of yourself,” you said. “Believe me, I know how important that is. Go, you deserve some time off. I know this week hasn’t been easy.”

She sunk into a curtsy. You didn’t comment on it, even though you would have liked to. It was an improvement that she stopped calling you “Your Majesty”. Or, at least, that she could stop herself from finishing the latter half of the phrase. “Thank you again,” she said. “If you do need me, please let me know. I want your transition to be as smooth as possible.”

You bid her farewell. As she left, you took a seat at Benjamin’s desk. It felt…Almost wrong. It was wrong, you supposed. Every part of Benjamin wanted to be seen as big and mighty and great. His desk was no exception. You recalled being younger, sitting on the other side of the desk, cowering as he yelled at you for something or other. You remembered the fear he struck into you. As you got older, you got better at hiding that fear. But it never went away. And it only creeped back up, wrapping its cold hand around your throat, squeezing, as you sat there. You didn’t like sitting there. 

So, you got up, turning toward the large window. In the gardens, you could see Marc and Cleo. Marc liked spending time outside, you realized, and Cleo liked spending time with Marc. She followed him wherever he went, nudging him with her little head, purring lowly as he let her cuddle up against him. You were almost convinced she loved Marc more than she loved Steven. (Of course, you would never say that to your love. You couldn’t stand to look into his sweet, puppy eyes as he pouted at you. You would instantly melt, take back anything that you had said.) 

Knock! Knock!

You turned toward the door, seeing Layla standing in the frame. A smile stretched across your face. You didn’t get to see much of your friend anymore. She was still your bodyguard, of course, but she had been busy with updating protocols and training the other guards. You had to make do with other guards while she was away. A part of you ached every time a different guard was appointed to you. 

“Come in, come in,” you said, waving her into your office. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in years.”

“Perhaps because we’ve lived a decade in just a few weeks,” Layla said. “I’ve missed you.”

“And I you,” you said. “I’m glad you’re here. I need help selecting an advisor, and there is no one’s judgment I trust more than yours.”

Layla laughed. “You flatter me.”

“Well, you told me my fiancés were good men, and look at what amazingly that turned out,” you said. You sat back in Benjamin’s seat. “I don’t know where to start with this process. I just know that I don’t…I don’t think I want anyone who was close to Benjamin being close to me.”

“A wise decision,” Layla said. “Which…I’ll admit, this was Jake’s idea more than my own, but I do agree with him. That’s why I’m here now, to present you with his idea.”

“Oh? Please, go on.”

“Dove, I do believe you recall Ms. Yelena Belova,” Layla said. She stepped out of the door frame, into your office, and the familiar blonde took her place in the frame. 

“I wondered if i would see you again,” you said to Yelena.

Yelena dropped into a curtsy so low, you were sure her knee was touching the ground. “Your Majesty,” she said. 

“You don’t have to be so formal, Yelena,” you said, laughing slightly. She started to rise back up. “I don’t care much for the formalities, and after everything you’ve done, you don’t have to do all that. We’re practically friends.”

“You deserve the formalities after all you’ve been through,” Yelena said. 

“We’ll agree to disagree,” you said. “Layla seemed to suggest Jake wanted you to be my advisor. Is that true?”

Yelena gave a nod. She stepped more into the room, taking a seat across the desk from you. “I was at your hearing. I heard what you had to say about wanting to serve your people. And…Well, Jake had made me a promise that I would have the chance to talk to you about this. I didn’t think he would suggest for me to be your advisor, but…I would love the opportunity.”

You frowned. “Talk about what?”

“Benjamin’s…activities went far beyond conspiracy to kill you,” she said. She paused, then continued, “My sister, Natasha, and I…We were taken when we were young. There’s this group, called the Red Room.”

“I’ve never heard of that group before,” you said. 

“I don’t expect you to have. It’s…a well kept secret among the kingdom’s, the world’s, elite,” Yelena said. “After all, you don’t want everyone to know about an underground sex trafficking ring. Defeats the purpose, doesn’t it?”

You felt the urge to throw up. “…Benjamin was a part of that?”

Yelena nodded. “Like I said, the world’s elite played an active role in that. Natasha and I got out, went our separate ways. She went to a path of politics, I…Well, I’ve been trying to bring down the Red Room.”

“A difficult task to do when you don’t have much at your disposal, I’m guessing,” you said. 

“No, it’s not,” Yelena said. 

“You know, since I’ve returned to the palace, I have been trying to scrub every piece of Benjamin out of here. It hasn’t been easy. I don’t think it ever will be. Not when his corruption runs so deep. I understand why Jake recommended you to be my advisor,” you said. “You know more than I could ever know about what he’s done. If you would like to be my advisor, anything you need is at your disposal. If you need to organize a special taskforce, if you need to launch investigations…Whatever you need, you have the authority to do. It will, of course, go beyond the technical job responsibilities of an advisor, but…If there’s anyone who would be capable of seeing it through, I think it would be you.”

A hint of a smile quirked on Yelena’s face. “Thank you, Your Majesty. It would be my honor to be your advisor.”

“Fantastic,” you said. “If you can, I would love for you to begin right away.”

“Of course.”

“Which, brings me to my next point…Do you know any local furniture makers? I really need a new desk.”

Layla watched you as your stylist put the finishing touches on your makeup. She had been mostly silent ever since she stepped back into the role as your personal bodyguard. You had to admit, it was a bit strange to not hear her comments as you moved about your day. It almost felt like she wasn’t there at all.

“Et voilá!” your stylist said, stepping out of the way so you could look in the mirror. “A look fit for a Queen, don’t you think?”

“A look fit for a Dove,” Layla corrected. 

You looked toward her. That had been the first thing she had said this morning. “Thank you, Layla,” you said. You looked at the stylist. “And thank you. You always manage to top yourself every time you come here.”

“It’s easy when I have such a beautiful canvas to work with,” she said.

You thanked her once more before you bid each other farewell. Once she was gone, it was only you and Layla left in the room. You stood from your seat and walked across the room to where Layla stood. Her face was unreadable. It hurt for her to look at you like that, like you were just anyone. 

“What troubles you?” you asked.

Layla raised a brow. “Do you think something troubles me?”

“You look like you’re a million miles away. You’ve barely spoken to me. When you look at me, there’s nothing behind your eyes. I worry I did something to hurt you.” You took a breath, then continued, “Just because I am Queen now, does not mean I don’t want to hear what you have to say.”

Layla looked away. She said nothing for a moment, then two. Finally, she let out a sigh, and said, “I don’t think it’s wise that you leave the palace now.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t mean to worry you,” Layla said, “but the threats against your life have only grown worse in the last week. People still support Benjamin, even if their numbers are small. But I don’t need to tell you how much a vocal minority can do. They have been sending threats since you signed the proclamation. Nothing credible, yet…But that may change.”

You considered Layla’s words. Truth be told, this was something you both feared and expected. A life in the public eye, a life in a role as visible as Queen, was inevitably going to deal with people wanting to harm you. And given how you got the throne…Well, you knew there would certainly be men who were miffed that you “kicked Benjamin out” and wanted to see you be hurt because of that. 

“I can’t say I’m surprised. Threats come with the territory,” you said. “You could have told me sooner.”

Layla hesitated. “There’s whispers that they…That they might find a way to work with Benjamin. That’s why I didn’t tell you.”

“…oh.”

“I’ve been trying to work with the prison, to get Benjamin, and Harrow, too, put in solitary. Or at least to limit their time spent with other inmates. Nothing has come of it, though. I worried that nothing would come of it until you were actually hurt.”

“That is the way things are, isn’t it?” You let out a sigh. “I can ask Yelena to look more into it. Perhaps if she can find proof, we can present it to Sam and have an order made. The prison can’t say no to both the Queen and Prime Minister, can they?”

“The courts might take issue it.”

“We’ll deal with that when we get there,” you said. “Luckily, we know some very good lawyers who can help us.”

Layla let out a quiet chuckle. “You should appoint Matt and Foggy as the official counsel of the Crown.”

“Well, all we would have to do there is actually put it on paper,” you laughed. “I missed this, you know. I haven’t gotten to just talk to you for so long. I’ve missed my best friend.”

Layla’s face tinted pink. When she looked at you, her eyes with crinkled at the corners, a smile curling across her face. “And I’ve missed you, dove. Hopefully, the dust is actually starting to settle and we won’t have to keep worrying about death and plots against you.”

“I wish the same. I would much rather have the most difficult thing I’m dealing with be getting rid of everything I associate with Benjamin.” You looked away. “I feel a bit…Not petty, that’s not the right word…But, I’m not sure. I know I have the right to make myself feel at home here. But the media…They make news out of me sneezing. I worry that they’re going to try and spin this a certain way, make me out to the be the bad guy. It’s inevitable, of course. I can’t make the media and the people happy forever. I certainly make them all happy. But I still feel like I have to be very careful about what I do, or else the worst version of this would wind up on the page of some tabloid.”

“Well, there’s no better time than now to make your changes,” Layla said. “Right now, the media is very much on your side. I don’t think very many would stand against you right now when everything you’ve been through is still so recent.”

“I suppose you’re right,” you said. 

“The more concerning thing, I think,” Layla said, “is more they talk about the Marc, Steven, and Jake. Many still are villainizing them.”

“I know. I have…a plan for that. Well, the semblance of a plan. I hope to talk about it with them this morning, to get their approval. I don’t want to do anything that might make it worse for them.”

Layla smiled a bit more. “I’m glad they have you, and you them. You all complement each other so well.”

You smiled, too. “Thank you. That means a lot coming from you.” You looked to the clock, and took a breath. “Well, I suppose we should be on our way. I would like to eat some breakfast before we begin all of our meetings.”

“Hm, and no better time than to talk to the boys, too, huh?”

“Shh…Don’t guess all of my plans. I’m trying to keep an air of mystery!”

[starryevermore]

do not chastise the dove (3) ✧ 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 receive, perhaps, the worst birthday present of all: betrayal. 

word count: 6,543

warnings?: royal au, arranged marriage, assassination attempt, poisoning (nightshade), pet name (dove), not proofread

For your birthday, your father was throwing a ball. It was tradition for the royal family to throw a ball for its members birthdays. You dreaded the entire event. When you were younger, it was more fun. Your mother would spin you around the room, let you wear her favorite tiara, introduce you to the members of Parliament and foreign dignitaries, pronounce you the future queen (even if it was untrue and everyone knew it; Kieran would inherit the throne as the first-born legitimate child of the king). It was some of your favorite memories with your mother. But, as you got older, and when your mother eventually passed, your birthday became something you dreaded. If you ever did anything that your father didn’t approve of—which was a lot—then he would make sure you never heard the end of it. 

That was why you asked Marc if he would like some dance lessons before the big day. It was inevitable that you and Marc would have to dance together. And if he made one misstep…Well, he wouldn’t be the one your father would chastise. No, that would be you. So, for the entire week leading up to your birthday ball, Marc came to the palace for a couple hours and spun you around the ballroom until you were so dizzy you couldn’t think straight. 

He was actually a decent dancer to start. Not the best by any stretch of the imagination, but he seemed to do well at the basics. He was able to lead, danced in time with the music, and there were minimal moments of stepping on your feet. And perhaps, most importantly (at least in your semi-professional opinion), he was a decent conversationalist, too.

“I hope this didn’t ruin your plans for your life,” you had said to him on the first day of dance lessons. “I know this life isn’t one people would want if they knew about all that comes with it. I don’t know you very well, but I would hate for you to be miserable.”

“It’s not the life I would have chosen,” he had admitted. “I had always dreamed of a quiet life. I’m sure you can imagine what a curveball this has been and will continue to be.”

“I understand that. Sometimes, I wonder how my life would have gone if I’d had a normal childhood, something away from all the glitz and glam, away from the royal procedures and watchful eye of the king. I know I should be grateful for it all—so many would kill for a life like this. But, the thought still tickles at the back of my mind.”

“Maybe we can shirk our duties when we’re married,” Marc suggested. “What will we get? A dukedom? That’s even more of a figurehead position than king, if you ask me. We should abandon whatever castle they give us, and get a nice little cottage in the country.”

“Mm, bigger than a cottage. I’d like to have a library,” you said. “A small one, at least. I have a lot of favorite books.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling. Ste—I have a lot of favorite books, too,” Marc said. His face changed, softening. His eyes became wider, kinder, and when he spoke again, it was in a British accent. “We should do that thing where I recommend you my favorite book and you recommend me yours, read them, and talk about them. A little book club for two, yeah?”

“That would be nice. I’d really like that. How about tomorrow, I give you my favorite book and you give me yours? That should give me enough time to figure out what my number one favorite is,” you said. 

“Sounds like a grand plan, Your Highness.”

And so the week continued like that. Marc slowly opening up to you, you slowly opening up to Marc. Every day, you began to look forward to the dance lessons. Come Wednesday, you found yourself adding more and more songs to your playlist just to make him stay longer. If he noticed, he didn’t say anything. Part of you thought that, perhaps, he wanted to stay, too. At the end of every lesson, he would hold you close against his chest, look at you with his soft brown eyes, and made you feel like the most important woman in the world. 

Come Friday, you decided that being in his arms felt nice. Safe, even. It was entirely irrational, feeling that way about him. You barely knew the man, only had a handful of conversations with him—the vast majority of them occurring in the last week as he spun you ‘round and ‘round the ballroom. There was just something about him, something that felt so comforting about him now that he was consistently being nice. Maybe it was just because he was the only man who was kind to you for the sake of being kind. Maybe it was just because he was himself. 

“I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting you to be such a fast learner,” you said as you twirled into Marc’s arms.

“It helps that I have an excellent teacher,” he said, speaking in that silly little British accent. 

Marc did that a lot. Switch up his accents, you mean. Granted, it was only three accents—the one he usually used, the one that almost sounded like his accent but just slightly different, and the British one. He did it so effortlessly, so easily, even changed up his mannerisms with each accent. It was so interesting. You wondered if he had ever wanted to be an actor because, with a talent like that, you could easily see him become a movie star. 

“I have to ask,” you began as he twirled you around, your skirt flaring out, “what’s with the different accents? I enjoy them, but you only ever do that around me and Layla. I don’t really understand why.”

Marc hesitated, eyes darting around your face as he spun you back into his arms. “Eh, well, ya see…Just figured it was a bit funny, innit?” he said. “You don’t laugh much, but I noticed ya seem to brighten up a bit when I change my voice around.”

You smiled without really meaning to. That happened a lot recently—smiling naturally, you mean. Not the perfectly painted on smile you used for the press. No, the one that you rarely pulled out anymore. Usually, it was reserved for when you and Layla were alone, free from the watchful eyes of, well…everyone else. “I appreciate that. Really, truly.”

“I’m glad. I want you to be comfortable around me. Which is why I have to ask…” Marc trailed off, pausing as if he was trying to gauge your reaction. He was back to speaking like he normally did, dropping the British accent. “I was talking to Layla earlier, and she’d said that everything about your birthday can get a bit stressful. I don’t mean to overstep, but I just wanted you to know that if there comes a point tomorrow where you need to just step away from it all, you can send me some sort of signal and I’ll find a way to get you away, okay?”

“What, like a secret code word or something?” you asked. “I love that, Marc. Ooh, our code word could be pineapple! I hate pineapple, so that way I won’t accidentally say it since I would never bring it up in the first place. It’s perfect!”

Marc nodded, smiling slightly as you spoke. He didn’t smile much, you’d noticed. But he always had a hint of one when he spoke to you. “That’s a great code word. If I hear pineapple, I’ll be your knight in shining armor.”

“Considering you’re a Moon Knight, you already are my knight in shining armor sans shining armor,” you laughed. 

The song playing over the speakers came to an end as Marc held you against him, one of your hands in his, his other hand resting on your waist while yours was on his shoulder. He looked at you, his breathing somewhat heavier. As you peered at him, you found yourself glancing down at his lips, wondering if they were as soft as they looked. Would it be improper to see if they were, to kiss him now? It was the twenty-first century, after all. You would hardly be called a whore for kissing a man, especially a man that you were to marry in the coming months. Your father, though, would probably have some other thoughts. 

But your father wasn’t here, and what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him…

Except, Marc pulled away, taking a step back from. “Thank you for the lessons, dove,” he said. Your heart lifted, even if it was slightly wounded by him backing away. It was the first time he had you called dove, and you found yourself wishing he would say it again. “Perhaps I won’t make a total fool of myself tomorrow evening.”

“It it makes you feel better, no one would really notice your blunders,” you offered before cringing slightly. Okay. That was a bit conceited, even if it did have an air of truth to it. “You’ll be given more grace than I will be granted.”

“By your father, you mean.”

You sucked in a breath. You’d been hoping he’d forgotten about what he heard. That the moment he’d walked into had been erased from his memory. He hadn’t brought it up since—not said a single word. Perhaps it was foolish of you to think you were in the clear. “Him, yes, as well as my brother and Harrow.”

Marc’s jaw clenched at the mention of Harrow. Did the two of them have issues? You couldn’t imagine a royal advisor would come into contact with a Moon Knight all that often… Then again, Harrow had been a former Moon Knight himself. Perhaps their paths had crossed. 

But before you could wonder further, Marc said, “I wish they would see you for how you really are.” 

“And how is that?”

“It’s all in your name, isn’t it? The one Layla calls you, anyway. A dove. One day, they’ll come to regret trying to clip your wings.”

“Perhaps, or perhaps not,” you said. You didn’t believe it, but you wanted to. You dreamt of a day where your family would regret their treatment of you. But that was just a fantasy and you knew it. 

And yet, looking at Marc, you almost believed that there would come a day where that fantasy would become your reality. 

“Nearly done with your makeup, Your Highness,” your stylist said, applying the final coats of mascara to your lashes. “And…done! You look stunning, Your Highness.”

You caught a glance of yourself in the mirror. You did look beautiful, more so than usual. Your hair had been styled in an elaborate updo, star-shaped pins scattered throughout your hair. Your stylist had made you look ethereal—a goddess amongst men if there was ever such a thing. You were already a natural beauty, but the makeup only enhanced it. The eyeshade made your eyes pop, the highlight made you glow, the lipstick made your lips look… Well, you hoped kissable, at least to the one person you found yourself wanting to kiss. 

It was strange, the way you were starting to like Marc. You barely knew anything about him. He kept so much to himself, instead preferring to listen to you talk about yourself. But being with him felt nice, felt natural. It had only been a week, and yet you found yourself looking forward to a lifetime with him. The more cynical part of you—the weaker part of you—wondered if it was because he was the only man you’ve had in your life who has shown you basic kindness. The more optimistic part of you—the stronger part of you—hoped that it was because this was the beginning of a fairytale. 

(Though, doesn’t tragedy always befall princesses in fairytales before they are allowed their happy endings?)

“Thank you,” you said. “You always amaze me with you handiwork.” 

“Oh, it wouldn’t look half as good if you weren’t already so beautiful yourself, Your Highness,” she said, bowing her head to hide her flushed cheeks. 

“You’re too kind. Thank you, again,” you said. 

She nodded once more before going to leave, opening the door to reveal Marc Spector himself, posed as if he was about to knock on the door, one hand behind his back. She stepped past him, leaving the two of you alone. 

“Wow,” Marc said, speaking in that British accent again. “You look brilliant!”

Heat rushed to your face as you looked at him, looking him up and down. His outfit complimented yours well, donning a black tux with gold accents. Compared to your gold gown with silver stars, the two of you looked like you walked straight out of a magazine photoshoot. In the back of your mind, you were well aware that your father wouldn’t be pleased with such a show-y display, but it was your birthday. You would deal with the fallout later. 

“You don’t look half-bad yourself, Mr. Spector,” you said. “I wasn’t expecting to see you until later. Is there something you needed?”

His cheeks tinted pink. “I needed to see you.” 

You cursed yourself for not knowing how to flirt. The most truly romantic experiences you’d ever gotten were confined to books and movies, and even those were scarce. Sure, you had gone on a few dates here and there, kissed a couple of guys over the years. But it was nothing in the grand scheme of things. You were always a bit awkward, unable to drop the constraints of being a professional royal. 

And yet, being around Marc felt natural. You didn’t have to think about professionalism, about what the media might think of you, about what Benjamin might think of you. So, you tried to just be yourself, smiling at him and asking, “Yeah? And why’s that?”

Marc stepped more into the room, the door shutting behind him. He moved the hand that was behind his back to reveal a present. “I wanted to give you your present early,” he said, his accent changing again to the one he normally spoke in. 

Your smile widened. “You didn’t have to get me a present, Marc.”

“I know, but the other day, after our engagement photos, Layla took me to the royal library…to make sure things weren’t awkward between me and her. While we were there, I saw something that made me want to get a present for you,” he explained. He held out the gift bag to you, and you took it. “I really hope you like it.”

You set the bag down on the makeup table, carefully taking out the tissue paper. In the bag was a framed picture, which you pulled out, briefly marveling at the ornate frame—white with gold accents, looked almost like marble. But then you saw the picture inside the frame, and it almost made you cry. 

It was one of your mother playing with dolls with you. She was wearing a gown—probably about to go to an event or maybe returning from one. She was sitting on the floor, her gown spread out  around her, making her almost look like one of those fancy cupcakes that has mountains of fluffy frosting. You were sat on her lap, holding out two of your Barbie dolls, one of her hands over yours as you handed a doll off to her. 

You had never seen the picture before. You didn’t have many photographs of your mother that weren’t paparazzi shots or official portraits. Benjamin had made sure to keep them all under lock and key. Something about maintaining the perfect public image. No matter how many times you fought with him over the years, he insisted that he knew best. You were surprised Marc had even been able to find it. This must have somehow slipped through the cracks when your father was clearing out all the photo albums. 

“Oh, Marc—” you sniffled, struggling to keep your emotions together. “This is perfect. Where did you find this?”

“It was in that one room in the library, with all the royal family records? It was in this photo album wedged between some books on a bottom shelf. I put it right back where I found it, so, uh, if you want, I can maybe show it to you later?” he offered. 

“That would be wonderful. Thank you so much,” you said. 

“I’m glad you like it. I’ve heard about how close you and your mother were and well…I didn’t know much about you personally at the time, so I trusted that everyone else knew that that was true and wasn’t just lying,” he said, chuckling at the end. 

“Honestly and truly, this is one of the best presents I’ve ever received.” You set the frame down, stepping slightly closer, and asked, “Would it be alright if I gave you a hug?”

Marc nodded, a smile on his face, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He opened his arms, and you stepped in them. It felt nice, being held by him. You couldn’t quite recall the last time someone had hugged you. It was probably Layla—she was the only person who, well, treated you like a person. 

Being in his arms, held tightly like he actually cared about, it made all of those romantic feelings you were so conflicted about rise to the surface again. And you couldn’t quite convince yourself to not act on them. 

“You know,” you said, tilting your head to look at him, “people will expect us to show some affection tonight.”

It wasn’t entirely true, and you knew both of you were well aware of that. Royals very rarely displayed any sort of affection—perhaps a kiss on the cheek, a kiss on the hand. Certainly not a full-on lip-to-lip kiss. And certainly not between a princess and her fiancé. But, god, you wanted to kiss him so badly. You would have used any reason to feel his lips against yours just once before the night was over. 

“Yeah?” Marc said, his hands coming to rest on your hips, holding you close against his body. 

“Mhm. And, you know, I’d hate for our first real kiss to be out there in front of everyone. What if we’re really bad? And all that the papers can report is that the princess is a horrible kisser?”

Marc glanced at the mirror behind you for a second before saying, “We should probably practice then.”

You reached up, cupping Marc’s face in your hands, pulling him towards you. “It only makes sense.”

He met you halfway, pressing his lips against yours, kissing you like you were his last breath. Oh, no one had ever kissed you like this before. Not even Lord Barnes, who all the ladies said was a brilliant kisser. No, no, Marc was so much better.

Marc kissed you like you were his last breath, like if he stopped then he would surely die. He held onto your hips tightly, the material crinkling under his fingertips. In the back of your mind, you wanted to smack his hands away—your father would not be happy if your dress was ruined before the night even started. But, god, who fucking cared? 

All that mattered in this moment was you and Marc and whatever spark was growing between the two of you. 

But, of course, all good things must come to an end.

Knock! Knock!

“Dove? Your father is asking you to come down for pictures and—OH MY GOD!” 

You jumped away from Marc, eyes widening as you looked at Layla in the doorway, her hand slapped over her eyes so she couldn’t see the two of you. 

“Come out in five minutes and look decent, you two!” Layla said, walking backwards out of the door frame, grabbing the door knob and shutting it. 

You looked at Marc, realizing your lipstick had smeared around his lips. “Shit,” you muttered, turning around and grabbing a makeup wipe. You quickly got to work, wiping the remnants of your makeup from his face. “Okay, you’re fine now.”

Marc blinked slowly at you, as if he was still recovering from the high of kissing you. “You, uh, might wanna touch up your lipstick, too, dove,” he mumbled.

You whipped around, looking in the mirror, seeing your lipstick smeared around. “Shit, shit, shit,” you repeated under your breath, trying to restore your stylist’s handiwork to its former glory. “Do I look okay now?”

“You look like an angel, dove,” Marc said. “Turn around, look at me.”

You obeyed, turning your attention back to him. His hands returned your to your hips, holding you slightly away from him as he looked you up and down. “Do I look presentable?”

“What? Oh, yeah, of course you do, dove,” Marc said. “Just wanted to have a moment to shamelessly gawk at you before I have to go act all prim and proper.”

You laughed so hard you snorted. “You dork,” you said between giggles. “C’mon, let’s go before Layla thinks the worst of us.”

Layla would not meet your gaze when the two of you came out of the room, Marc’s hand on the small of your back as he led you to her. When you started to apologize for what she walked into, she raised her hand, stopping you, and said, “Next time, I want a warning.”

“What? Like a sock on the doorknob?” you joked. When they both turned to look at you with horrified eyes, you said, “What? I’ve seen enough movies to know what that is! Oh, c’mon, you both were supposed to laugh!”

“This is worse than when I walked in on you and Lord Barnes,” she said, shaking her head. 

Marc’s brow furrowed. His accent changed again—the one that almost sounded like his actual accent but not quite. “Lord Barnes? Who’s that?” he asked. You didn’t miss the vitriol in his voice as he said the other man’s name. 

“No one,” you said as Layla said, “Her first crush. I walked in on them kissing in the garden when I was first assigned as her bodyguard.”

“So, uh, I got competition, then?” Marc tried to joke, but neither you nor Layla missed the seriousness in his voice. 

“More like I’m the one with competition,” you said. “You’re more his type than me.”

Marc’s face dropped as your words started to click. “Oh, uh—that’s—I—um—”

Before Marc could manage to string together a sentence, the three of you had arrived in the room where your pictures would be taken. Benjamin and Kieran were already waiting there with the photographer. Your heart began to drop, coming to accept that any semblance of joy that you had previously been experiencing was over now. Your family seemed to revel in squandering your happiness, and today would be no exception. 

And yet, your father turned to you, a wide smile on his face. It looked…alien. Unnatural. Like someone had loaded a photo of him into FaceTune and had used the tool that makes the subject “smile”. It didn’t look like him at all. 

“Happy birthday!” your father said, opening his arms to you. 

You spared a glance at Layla, who looked just as puzzled as you felt. When you glanced at Marc, he showed no emotion on his face, but the hand that wasn’t on your back was clenched in a fist at his side. Neither of the people closest to you trusted what was happening, and neither did you. 

Still, you had to put on a show. You stepped away from the people who truly cared, into the arms of your father. He squeezed you tight. Unlike Marc’s embrace, this felt more like a boa constrictor winding its body around its prey, slowly squeezing the life out of its helpless victim. 

“Thank you,” you said, but all you wanted to do was run. 

If only you had.

The ball was in full swing, and all you wanted to do was run and hide in your room. Well, perhaps not hide. But you certainly were ready to sleep for a thousand years after this entire ordeal. Because this was not only your birthday celebration but also the first major event that Marc taking part in, you had to make sure that you went around and greeted every. single. guest. who was in attendance. Unlike your typical birthdays where you might be forgiven—though, the word should be taken lightly since Benjamin never really forgives you for any of your mistakes—for this one, you had to make sure you were the perfect model of the perfect princess.

The ball had started nearly two hours ago, and you still hadn’t been able to greet everyone in between taking breaks to drink the champagne you asked your father to have served, dancing with Marc and other important political officials, and ducking outside to the balcony for fresh air. Thankfully, though, you were almost certain that you’d spoken to nearly everyone at least once. There were only a few still left. 

Including, of course, Prime Minister Wilson and Lord Barnes. 

“Princess!” Sam greeted, Bucky holding onto his arm. “Happy birthday. I hope this year treats you well.”

“Sam, Bucky, I’m so glad you could make it,” you said, hugging both of them before stepping back to stand beside Marc. “I would like to introduce you to my fiancé, Marc Spector. Marc, this is Prime Minister Sam Wilson and Lord James Barnes.”

Marc’s brow raised at the mention of Lord Barnes. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”

“You too,” Bucky said. “And you can call me Bucky. Y/N has always insisted on introducing me as James after she found out how much it annoyed me. It wasn’t so bad when it was just her, but after she told Sam here, the two of them take every opportunity to call me James now.”

Sam laughed, shaking his head. “If you didn’t react so strongly every time, then maybe we would stop.”

“You two are the worst.” Bucky rolled his eyes, scoffing. He took a moment to look away, his interest piquing as he spotted someone in the distance. “Sam, I just spotted Nat. We should go say hello before she decides to leave early.”

Sam agreed before bidding you and Marc farewell, letting his boyfriend pull him away to greet their old friend. As they left, you turned back to Marc, smiling. 

“See?” you said. “No reason to be jealous of Lord Barnes, he’s only got eyes for the Prime Minister.”

Marc shook his head, chuckling quietly. “I never said I was jealous.”

“I could see it in your eyes. They’re very expressive. At least, compared to the rest of your face.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhm.”

But before you could elaborate further, explain how his eyes seemed to change so drastically with each of the silly little accents he would put on, a waiter was walking over to you, a single glass of wine situated in the middle of his tray.

“Happy birthday, Your Highness,” the waiter said as you picked up the glass of wine.

“Thank you,” you said before taking a sizable drink as he walked away. Normally, you would only drink in small sips. But now, you were desperate to feel some sort of buzz that would get you through the rest of the evening.

It tasted strange, the wine. You fought the urge to recoil at the taste, instead keeping the perfectly painted on smile. Wine was far from your alcohol of choice, so perhaps it was your inexperience with the drink that was affecting your thoughts, but… Well, it tasted strangely sweeter than any other wine you’d had before. 

“Bad?” Marc asked, watching your reaction. 

“Not…good,” you said. “I’m not the biggest fan of wine. My father must have asked for it to be served.”

Marc nodded, his jaw clenching. You watched as his eyes scanned the room. You didn’t have to ask what he was looking for—you already knew what it was. Not a single other person in the room had been served wine. You were the only person who had been offered a glass. Part of you wanted to assure him that everything was fine, that perhaps they just wanted to make sure you had been served the first glass before everyone else. But there was a pit settling in your stomach, something that told you things weren’t quite what they seemed. 

You spotted Layla standing near the wall, and you waved her over. 

“Yes, dove?” she asked. 

“Can you take this back to the kitchen please? Something about it tasted wrong, and I don’t want them to serve anymore to the guests in case something in it has gone bad,” you said, passing the glass off to her. 

“That’s hardly in my job description, dove,” she teased, “but of course. It’ll be no issue.”

As she walked away, a new song began to play. Your ears perked as you recognized the sound. It was one of your favorites, and you told Marc just as much when you turned your attention back to him. Wordlessly, he offered you his arm, leading you out to the middle of the floor. 

You liked that. How Marc was beginning to understand you without you having to say a single word. You hoped that one day you would understand him like that. Though he had begun to open up to you, you could tell that there were a lot of things that he was still holding close to his chest. You understood it, of course, didn’t fault him for it. This entire situation was still so new. Of course he would’t open up about everything so quickly. You could only hope that, one day, he would be comfortable enough to tell you about his secrets. 

Marc twirled you around the dance floor, and for a moment you let yourself forget about everything you were thinking of. The wine no longer mattered. The fact that your social battery was quickly depleting was a thing of the past. Your father having been uncharacteristically kind to you this evening no longer weighed heavily on your mind. All that mattered was that Marc was there and he was trying his hardest to fit in and that he made you…Happy.

Yeah. Happy.

Such a foreign feeling. Some days—most days, actually, if you were being honest—you forgot what that feeling was. But when you were with Marc, it consumed your very being. It lit your soul on fire. It made you feel alive. You wanted to remember that feeling, capture it in a jar and hold onto it forever. 

But, god, something wasn’t feeling right. 

The more you spun around the dance floor, the more…off you felt. Your limbs felt weak, like they were being weighed down. You couldn’t see straight. The sound of the music was reduced to a dull thump in your ears. Something was right at all. 

You found yourself stopping, smacking straight into Marc’s chest, not caring that people were starting to stare at you. He looked down at you, his brows furrowed, a question on the tip of his tongue. But you got there first. 

“Marc?” you asked, looking at him, eyes wide, pupils blown out. You didn’t look well. You were clammy, thin beads of sweat collecting at your hairline. You were swaying on your feet, unable to keep your balance. You hadn’t drank that much, had you? Only a glass of champagne and…And the wine. Had you asked for there to be wine tonight? You couldn’t recall… Who had given it to you? Surely it was a waiter… But why couldn’t you remember? Had anyone else been given wine? You hoped no one else was feeling as ill as you… “I think I would like some pineapple right now.”

“Pineapple? Of course,” Marc said, brow furrowed, reaching out to lead you to the most convenient safe haven. But before he could even touch you, your feet gave out on you and you slumped to the ground, your world going dark. 

Oh, dear. You hoped this wasn’t too much of an inconvenience. 

Everything felt…wrong when you began to wake up. It felt like someone had placed a giant weight on top of you, like if you tried to move any of your limbs then they would surely break off. Something was stuck in your arm, too, and you so desperately wanted to just rip it out. And the goddamn beeping! Why would anyone have something so annoying in your room? Who could possibly be expected to sleep with someone like that in the background?! And…was that…shouting? Who was shouting in your room? 

A wave of annoyance washed over you, giving you the energy to finally peel your eyes open. The room was bright—too bright. You immediately wanted to shut your eyes again and go back to sleep. You were slightly propped up with pillows, forced into an half-up sleeping position. That was strange. Why would you go to sleep like that? You were a side sleeper through and through. There was no way you would willingly sleep on your back like this. 

The shouting became louder as you pushed yourself up, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. The room you were in, though, looked entirely unfamiliar. You looked at the plain white walls, took in the fluorescent lights, the machines surrounding you, and you realized what had happened. Somewhere in your tired state, you’d forgotten about what had happened at the ball. So much for not being an inconvenience. 

Were you alone? No. No, someone was shouting. Who was shouting?

Finally, your eyes landed on the open bathroom door, your fiancé’s hands clenching the sink, staring straight in the mirror, shouting obscenities at…himself? 

“No, I don’t know anymore about what’s going on than either of you two do!” he snapped. “Don’t you get snarky with me, Steven! You and I both know that we couldn’t just leave her here alone. Layla’s been fuckin’ busy! If we weren’t here, who would be here for the princess?!”

There was a moment of silence before Marc scoffed. “You’ve been talking to Steven too much, Jake. His snarkiness is wearing off on you. Look—this is where we’re needed right now. Y/N is going to be waking up soon, I’m sure of it. As soon as she’s awake and understands what’s happened, we can start looking more into what happened. Yes, yes, I know it’ll probably happen again. It happened in the fucking palace—do you really think it won’t happen again here? She needs someone here, in this hospital, to make sure she doesn’t get hurt.”

“Marc?” you called out, your voice strained from lack of use, concerned about his conversation with himself. “Is everything alright? Who are you talking to?”

Marc’s head whipped towards you, the color draining from his face. Uh oh, you mused, someone didn’t mean for me to hear any of that. He slowly walked out of the bathroom, sinking into the chair beside your bed, reaching out, taking one of your hands in his. “Hey sleepyhead,” he said in that silly British accent. “How you feelin’? You gave us all quite the fright.”

“Don’t change the subject,” you mumbled. “I feel okay. Sleepy, kinda like I just got hit by a truck…What happened?”

“You were poisoned, dove,” Marc said after a long pause, his voice strained, as if he was trying to hold himself together. “The doctors said it was nightshade…The king is having it investigated right now. So am I.”

“Nightshade?” you repeated. “But…I don’t understand. Why would someone poison me?”

“That’s why it’s being investigated,” Marc explained. “They don’t know if it was someone with an agenda against the royal family in general or if someone specifically had it out for you.”

“Out for me?”

“It’s a possibility. We aren’t sure yet.” Marc sighed, looking down at his lap for a moment before glancing back up at you. His voice had changed to the accent that was almost his natural one but not quite. “We can talk about this more later…in private. There’s too many people here who can listen. When you get discharged, we’re going to take you to a safe house, okay?”

“But wait, you said you had someone investigating it…Why would you do that, when my father is having it investigated?” You paused, the gears slowly turning. “Unless you think…”

“It’s a possibility,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, reaching into his pocket, pulling out a photograph, passing it to you. “I saw something when I was in the library. I had this old friend, Jessica Jones, look into it for me. After you were poisoned, I thought that maybe it could be connected, so I asked her if she could try and figure out if…well, if the palace had something to do with it.”

You stared at the picture, your heart starting to sink. It was a picture from Kieran’s first birthday—you only knew that because you recognized the outfits your parents and Kieran wore from an official portrait made of the day. Your mother was holding Kieran. She didn’t quite look like herself. She had this distant look in her eye, her mouth turned down into a frown. She was a far cry from the woman you recognized. Your father looked just as stoic as ever, not a single emotion present on his face, though…Though, he was glancing off to the side, at a maid in the background. And, as you looked more closely at the maid, you felt your throat start to close up.

“She looks just like…” you trailed off, shaking your head. No, no, no. That couldn’t be true…Could it? “Do you know she is?”

“Jessica is still trying to figure that out. That woman’s been well-hidden over the years,” Marc said. “I’m hoping she’ll get a lead by the time you get out of the hospital, and then we can all meet up to discuss what she found.”

You nodded slowly, running your finger over the maid’s face. You looked up at Marc again, and asked, “Can I ask you something? And you promise not to change the subject?”

He nodded. 

“Who is Steven? And Jake?”

He sucked in a breath, looking away from you. “I was really hoping you hadn’t heard that.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but…When I woke up, you were shouting at yourself in the bathroom.”

“No,” he corrected, “I was shouting at Steven and Jake…I was going to tell you, I promise. I was just hoping it would be under better circumstances. Dove, how familiar are you with DID?”

[starryevermore]

do not chastise the dove (15) ✧ 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 make your side known.

word count: 4,571

warnings?: inaccurate depiction of legal proceedings, kinda very angsty, mention of waterboarding, mention of death and dove wishing she was dead, pet name (dove), not proofread

You felt like you were going to be sick. You probably were about to be sick. If you existed in a cartoon, your skin would have turned a nasty green color and your cheeks would have been puffed up comically large to show the audience just how sick you were. 

“You’re gonna be fine, dove,” Steven said, rubbing your back, trying to soothe you. It wasn’t working very much, but you appreciated the effort. 

“Think of it this way,” Layla said. She sat on the coffee table in front of you. She leaned forward a bit, her hand coming to rest on your knee, and she gave it a gentle squeeze. “the sooner it’s done with, the sooner he’ll be locked away.”

“I thought I had a few more days,” you said. Your voice was barely above a whisper. You were scared that if you spoke any louder, the force of using your voice might make you actually vomit. (And, okay, sure, that might have been an irrational thought, but you were allowed to be a little irrational—especially right now.) “They were delaying things. They were investigating. I thought it might not be until next week that I had to testify.”

While the last two of the hearing had been cancelled so that Parliament could deal with the media frenzy of Kieran’s reveal, as well as verify the authenticity of Benjamin’s confession, your appearance before the committee was to proceed as planned. There would be no more witnesses to testify. There would be no one else but you. And that scared you shitless. 

The realistic part of you knew that, at this point, your testimony was more of a formality than a necessity to put Benjamin away for good. Even if you fumbled and stumbled and fell, there would be enough to get Benjamin out of your life and off the throne. But the irrational part of you…It reared its ugly head, sneering at you, telling you that you were going to fuck up your own peace, your own happiness, because you couldn’t coherently string together the words to describe everything Benjamin put you through. 

Cleo hopped into your lap, peering up at you, and let out a soft, “Mew?”

“Oh, I’m gonna be fine, baby,” you said, reaching out and scratching behind her ears. You sniffed. “I’m just scared.”

“Mew!” Cleo bumped her head against you. 

“Yeah, I want you to come, too,” you said. You looked over at Layla. “Do you think Parliament would say anything if I brought her? I…I feel like I’m going to need all of the support I can get.”

“I’ll tell them you’re bringing her and that they can kiss my ass if they have anything to say about it,” Layla said. “We’ll probably have to leave earlier than usual, though. Just to make sure she isn’t scared by all the paparazzi.”

You nodded. You bent down and nuzzled your face against Cleo’s. She let out a quiet purr. “Such a sweet angel,” you whispered to her. “You deserve a tre—”

“Mew!” Cleo leapt out of your lap and into Steven’s, nuzzling up against him. 

“I take it back. You’re no angel,” you laughed.

“Hey, don’t say that about my baby!” Steven said, gently pushing your shoulder. “Maybe you should give her more treats and she’ll love you more!”

You stuck your tongue at him then laughed. Talking with Steven and Layla, being with Cleo…It made you feel lighter. It lifted some of the burden off of your shoulders. You wished you could feel like this all the time. You wished you could feel like this during the hearing. Instead, you knew when you sat before Parliament tomorrow, you knew you were going to struggle, and you knew you were going to struggle alone. 

Layla patted your knee again before rising to her feet. “I’m gonna call Sam now. You gonna be okay?”

You leaned into Steven’s side, rested your head on his shoulder. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

“You let me know if you need anything, okay?” Layla said.

You nodded. “You’re the best, Layla.”

“I try, I try,” she laughed before fishing her phone from her pocket and leaving the room. 

Steven and you were both quiet for a moment, then two. You didn’t like the quiet. It gave you too much room for your thoughts to run wild.

“Can we talk about something? I can’t stand the silence,” you said.

Steven nodded, his curls bouncing slightly. “D’you wanna talk about the hearing or d’you wanna talk about something else?”

“Let’s talk about the future,” you said. 

It was nice, the other day, talking about the future with Steven. It helped calm your still-present concerns that they might leave you. If they were making plans with you, then that meant they intended to stay. It meant they wanted to be with you. And being able to frame it like that, it made the nasty thoughts in your head go quiet. 

“I think you’ll make a great queen,” Steven said.

You let out a quiet laugh. “I won’t have many powers as queen. How could I be so great?”

“But you have some powers, don’t you? And you’ll have proper access to your family’s money. There’s a lot you can do with that,” Steven said. 

“I suppose you’re right,” you said. “I would like to do something important, something that means something, you know? But I worry I won’t be able to execute it properly.”

Steven frowned, his brows furrowing together. “Of course you would, dove. You care too much to let things falls through.”

You shrugged, not entirely convinced. “I guess I just worry too much. I…I spent my whole life being spoken down to. It’s hard to believe in myself, you know?”

Steven’s eyes narrowed a bit, crinkling at the corners, looking more like Jake’s. A small smile curled across his face, his pearly white teeth flashing at you. “You wanna go somewhere that might help with that problem, dove?”

“Do I get to know where?” you asked, raising a brow. 

“Nah, ya just gotta trust me,” Jake said. 

“Then lead the way.”

“Summer Twilights?” you read, looking at the words above the gate leading into…where it was that Jake took you. “That sounds like some cheesy romance novel.”

Jake looked at you. He chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “You say that like you got something against cheesy romance novels, dove.”

“I wouldn’t know if I did. I’ve never read any,” you said. You looked out the window, looking at the trees you passed by. “I was only allowed to read academic books or classics. The closest I got to romance was Jane Austen, but I know that’s a lot different than a modern romance novel.”

“I don’t know if it’s that different,” Jake said. 

“Well, a modern romance novel isn’t going to require me to break out some Sparks Notes to try and make sense of it,” you laughed. 

Jake gasped. “You used Spark Notes? And here I thought you were just brilliant all on your own!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I was too busy memorizing every law in the kingdom to decipher Jane Austen!”

Jake laughed. “It boggles my mind that you had to do that. It can in handy, sure, but who even started that tradition?”

“The first queen,” you said. You rested your head against the glass of the window. “It was centuries ago, and it was the first time a woman sat on the throne. She didn’t garner the same respect as the kings before her, so she had to fight tooth and nail for people to take her seriously. Memorizing all of the laws was part of it. If she knew them all, then surely she must know a thing or two about running a kingdom. Today, though, it’s more of a bragging point than anything else.”

“Your family is weird.”

“You’re not weird.”

You looked over at Jake, seeing the way his face burned red. A smile stretched across his face, revealing his pretty little dimpled cheeks. He let out another laugh, shaking his head as he said, “You’re too good for this world, dove.”

“Not too good,” you corrected, “just honest.”

“Well, you’re in a good place to be honest, dove,” Jake said. He pulled up to a small house surrounded by various buildings. You couldn’t really tell what the property was supposed to be. “Summer Twilights is a self-healing treat. Most people stay here for longer periods of time, but I started coming up on the weekends when I started fronting more regularly. It helped me work through some problems. I haven’t been up here for a while because, well…You know. But I thought it might help you if you could talk about what you went through in a safe environment before you have to talk about it at the hearing.”

“Jake—” Tears started welling up in your eyes. “—that’s so thoughtful of you.”

He took your hand in his, lifting it to his mouth, and pressed a kiss to the top of your hand. He reached out with his other hand, ran his thumb under your eye, wiping the tears away. “You deserve it, my dove.”

Jake put the car into park. He dropped your hand, getting out of the car, and walked around to the other side, opening your door for you. He extended his hand, helping you out, then shut the door. Jake locked the car, hitting the button on the key once, twice. You jumped slightly when the car beeped at the second hit of the button. 

“I’m so sorry, dove—” Jake started to say. 

“No, no, it’s not your fault,” you said. You squeezed his hand. You didn’t want him to believe that he had done something wrong—because he hadn’t. He couldn’t help that you were on the jumpy side now. He shouldn’t feel bad for every time you got a little spooked. “Please, don’t ever feel like you’re at fault when I jump like that. Okay? I know you don’t mean anything by it.”

Jake didn’t say anything. Instead, he looked straight ahead, at a man wearing all white approaching the two of you. He was older, late 40’s, early 50’s, perhaps. But he looked older than that, with his slightly disheveled appearance and slumped shoulders. Despite that, he wore a bright smile as he approached you and Jake. 

“Jake, welcome back!” he said to your fiancé. Then he looked at you, his eyes wide and curious, and said, “And you must be Y/N. I’m Emil, it’s lovely to meet you.”

“Likewise,” you said. 

“Well, come on, come, everyone’s waiting!” Emil said, waving his arm for you to follow him to one of the buildings. 

You looked at Jake. “Everyone?” 

“You’ll see.”

Emil led the two of you into a building that you could only describe as what you imagine a mess hall at a summer camp might look like (minus, of course, the shouting children and various tables scattered about). The walls were covered in wood panelling. The floors were the same shade of wood, so if you relaxed your eyes enough, it was impossible to tell where the walls ended and the floor began. Most curiously, thee was a circle of folding chairs in the center of the room. All but three of the seats were filled. 

“I thought you said this was a retreat? This looks more like a support group.”

“Eh, retreat, support group, what’s the real difference?”

A gasp came from one of the people seated in the circle. She was the only other woman present besides you. She was on the shorter size, but when she leapt from her seat, she had the sort of presence that could dominate a room. Her curls bounced as she walked up to you, a wide smile across her face. She looked familiar, but you couldn’t quite place her face. 

“Hello!” she greeted, extending her hand. “I’m Jen—Jennifer Walters. And I just wanted to say that I really admire the way that you haven’t let anything that’s happened to you keep you down. I had brief stint in the media a few months ago—completely slandered! they’re a whole bunch of vultures!—and it took everything in me to not give up.”

You blinked slowly as you shook her hand. Oh, had she been the lawyer who’d gotten into a courtroom brawl with some woman who’d gone crazy at a traffic court proceeding then started fighting everyone in the courthouse? Oh, yes, that had been her. You remembered what the media said about her—called her a psycho, chastised her for saving the jury from a woman hellbent on harming them. “It’s not easy,” you said. You looked at Jake beside you. “But I have a good support system.”

“Well, I hope we can add to that. Come on, everyone take a seat.” Emil said, ushering you all towards the chairs. You took a seat between Jake and Jen. Emil sat on the other side of Jen.“Let’s begin, shall we? Y/N, I know it’s your first time with us, but would you like to start? Jake had mentioned to me that you wanted to have some practice before the hearing.”

You blinked. “Oh, sure. Do I just…say my name and then talk about whatever I want?”

“That’s right. Just do whatever you’re comfortable with.”

You nodded. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. Fuck. You thought you might have some time before you had to start talking. “Um, I’m Y/N—”

“—hi Y/N!” the circle echoed.

“—and…Well, if there was one way to describe my family, it would be that you’d think we were living in a soap opera with all the insanity that’s happened in recent weeks.” Your heart thumped, hard. You could hear the blood pumping in your ears. Turning your gaze to your lap, where you held your hands clasped together, you continued, “I never really considered my family to be loving. Except for my mother, of course. She was the only one who ever liked me, for me. My father and brother, on the other hand…It was clear they saw me as a thorn in their side. It didn’t bother me so much, until my mother died.”

You reached over, grabbing Jake’s hand. He squeezed your hand, tight. “I think she shielded me from their…disapproval. When she was gone, there was no one to stop them from being needlessly cruel. I-I started to think that if I was better, if I did more, if I tried harder, they might not look at me as if I was the scum on their shoes. Now I know that, at least for Benjamin, I never would have been good enough. Kieran…He and I are on better terms, I suppose. He at least apologized for what he’s done. But every time I look at him, I see Benjamin. And every time I see Benjamin…I wish that his attempts to kill me had been successful.”

Jen, from the other side of you, reached over and held your free hand. “The world would be worse without you,” she said. “Everything he said to you, everything he did…He’ll be punished for it. He had no right to treat you that way.”

“That man is not your father,” one of the men in the circle said. He raised his hand, giving a slight wave. “I’m Dirk, Your Majesty.”

“I’m not the Queen, Dirk,” you said. “And you don’t have to use any formalities.”

“Nah, you’re already Queen!” another man said. “William Taurens, Your Majesty. You’re already Queen, even if it’s not been made official yet.”

You furrowed your brows together, looking at each of the people seated in the circle. “Do you all feel that way?”

They all nodded. Dirk said, “You’ve been Queen to us, and a ton of other people, ever since it came out that Benjamin was behind your kidnapping and poisoning. We don’t respect a man who tries to kill his kid.”

“Everyone’s been calling you the Queen Dove,” William said. “You know, because you’re gonna be Queen and your fiancés call you dove.”

“I think she got that,” a third man said. “Alejandro, Your Majesty. It’s been all over the news, even more so after Kieran presented that tape at the hearing. Haven’t you noticed?”

You glanced at Jake, then at Alejandro. “I stopped watching the news when all I saw was so-called journalists trashing my fiancés and saying they were behind the rift in the family. I was too scared, too upset, about what I could possible see to watch anymore.”

“You should take another look,” Jen said. “I think you might be surprised by how many people stand behind you.”

Perhaps you would be. If they were anything like the people sitting next to you, you supposed things might not be so bad after all. 

You looked at Jake again, smiling slightly. “Thank you for bringing me here,” you said. 

“Anything for you, my dove.”

“Fuck, you two are so cute!”

“Jen, you’re ruining the moment!”

You fought the urge to pick at your dress. You’d been sitting, waiting for the hearing to start, for well over an hour. You’d arrived even earlier than that. There was some benefit to it—you were able to avoid most of the paparazzi that crowded outside the hotel and the Parliament building. There were still a few, to be sure. There were enough that cared more about getting the first shot of you than they cared about meeting their own basic needs. So you still had to wade through a sizable crowd. But it was far less than what might have been gathered if you left later in the morning. Once in the safety of the Parliament building, you, Jake, and Cleo took some time to walk around until your anxieties got the best of you and you needed to sit down. 

Now, it was hard for you to keep your thoughts from spiraling. 

“Take deep breaths,” Jake said. He took your hand in his, intertwining his fingers with yours. You squeezed his hand, tight. “Just focus on your breathing. Okay, dove?”

You sucked in a deep breath, your eyes fluttering shut as you exhaled. In your lap, Cleo stirred and she placed her two front paws on your chest, leaning up and bumping her nose against yours. 

“Mew?”

“I'm feeling better, baby,” you said to her, scratching behind her ears. She nuzzled her head against you, purring softly. “I’m glad you’re here. You’re helping me so much, baby.”

“Hey, what am I? Chopped liver?” Jake pouted. 

You reached out, cupped his chin in one hand and pulled him down. You kissed him gently, smiling against his lips. “Definitely not chopped liver.”

“Hey, isn’t this supposed to be a legal proceeding? Don’t make out with your fiancé here!”

You pulled away from Jake, turning your head to see the support group from Summer Twilights walk into the room. You let out a laugh. You hadn’t expected them to be here. The room had been packed full every day of the hearing so far. You were fairly certain people had paid for their seats. How did they even get in? 

“You’d do the same if you were in my shoes, Jen,” you said, shaking your head at her. You looked at Jake. “Did you…?”

“Layla called in another favor,” Jake said. “We plan on milking the Parliament’s fuck up for as long as possible.”

You let out a laugh. You looked back at the group. “I’m glad you’re hearing. Come, sit in the front.”

They all filed up to the front of the room, filling out the entire front row (save for two empty seats for Jake and Layla). 

“You’re gonna do great, Your Majesty,” Dirk said. 

“Yeah, they’re gonna have a coronation right here and now when you get done!” William said. 

“Time to wheel out the Crown Jewels!” Alejandro shouted. 

You laughed a little harder. “Thank you all for being here. I really appreciate it.”

“Of course we’d be here for you, Y/N,” Jen said. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

You looked at each of them, an odd feeling settling in your chest. You never really had many friends before. Just Layla for a long time, and then your fiancés. Tears started to prick at your eyes. “I couldn’t ask for better friends.”

And you truly couldn’t. They, and Jake and Cleo, distracted you from your anxieties as you waited for the hearing to begin. It was easy to forget what you were about to do when you could talk to them. And when Matt, Foggy, and Layla joined? It almost felt like you weren’t about to do something that scared you half to death. 

But then the crowd started to gather. The energy shifted. You couldn’t ignore the way that people tried to peer over at you, ready to make a story about each and every one of your reactions. Your smile dropped. Instead, you now wore a more solemn, near-neutral expression. You twisted back around to face the front. You tried to steady your breathing. You didn’t want to begin the hearing with a panic attack. 

Soon enough, the members of Parliament conducting the hearing filed into the room and took their seats. Behind you, Jake whispered a “good luck” and Layla whispered a “you’re going to do amazing”. At the front of the room, Sam banged his gavel and called for order. 

“Good morning,” Sam said to you after a hush fell over the crowd. “I’m sure you’re familiar with the process by now. Please state your name and occupation for the record.”

“My name is Y/N,” you said. You paused, considering your words. Princess didn’t do it justice. The Future Queen was too ambitious. You settled on— “And I’m the rightful heir to the throne.”

One of the members of Parliament, John Walker, raised a brow. He hadn’t spoken much during the hearing. He had asked a few questions of Benjamin. From what you gathered, he was on Benjamin’s side of things. It came as no surprise, then, when he said, “That’s a rather bold statement to make. Do you really think it’s appropriate under the circumstances.”

Cleo hissed at him. You scratched behind her ears, trying to calm her down, as you said, “It’s the truth. At this point, it’s undeniable that Benjamin had an affair and posed Kieran as the heir when Kieran has never been legitimate. Perhaps it is cruel to say it now, when he’s seated just feet away, but it’s far less cruel than anything I have endured.”

“You’ve endured more than most,” Wanda said, not bothering to hide her glare at Walker. Her eyes softened as she looked back to you. “We’ve gotten a decent picture at what life was like behind the palace walls. But the picture is not yet complete. Could you please explain to us what your relationship was like with your family?”

Cleo nuzzled her head against your chest, peering up at you with wide eyes. You sucked in a deep breath. “Complicated is, perhaps, the best word to describe it. In recent weeks, I…have struggled to call Benjamin and Kieran family. They are undoubtedly my blood, but I’ve learned that that’s not enough. My mother, however…She was my real family.”

“Indeed, it’s been well reported how close you were with us,” Wanda said. 

“She was my mother and best friend,” you said. “She shielded me from Benjamin for as long as she could. I’m forever grateful for that. Had it not been for her…I don’t know if I would have ever gotten this far. I certainly wouldn’t be the same person. She showed me the good, the light, in the world. She made sure I knew kindness. She was the most amazing person I’ve ever known.” Your lower lip wobbled. Shit. You didn’t want to cry this early on. And, yet, the tears sprung to your eyes, and your voice wavered, as you continued, “When Benjamin had me kidnapped, all I wanted was to experience her kindness just one more time before I died.”

“Just to clarify, and I understand this is difficult to talk about, Your Maj—Your Highness—you thought you were going to die?” Monica asked.

“Benjamin failed once. I know him well enough that he’d do anything to make sure he didn’t fail again,” you said. “What I went through…it was beyond cruel. It was sadistic. I’ve tried to forget a lot of it. But it stays…I don’t think it’ll ever go away. II can’t take a shower, I can’t wash my hair, I can’t wash my face, without going back to that room. I remember being strapped to the chair, a cloth wrapped around my head. I remember Harrow dumping water on me. I remember feeling like I was drowning. I remember wishing I was drowning. If I was drowning, at least it would have ended.”

A sort of unease settled in the room. No one said anything for a beat, then two. 

“Your Highness—” Walker started. 

“In some ways, I suppose Benjamin won. A part of me did die then. Every time I’ve come here, every time I’ve left the safety of my room, I think it’s the end. I question who I can trust. Someone I thought had been assigned to me a bodyguard was the one who took me. How do I know that the reporters outside are safe? How do I know if the person who cooks my food is safe? How do I know anyone is safe? I used to be able to trust more easily. Now, I’m less sure. I don’t know if I’ll ever be sure again.”

“Your Highness, please only speak when you’ve been asked a question,” Walker said.

“She had been asked a question,” Monica said, narrowing her eyes at Walker. “I asked her to clarify. She did.”

Sam banged his gavel once, silencing the two. He looked to you. “As Prime Minister, I would like to formally apologize for the role that we played.”

“Respectfully, I think it’s a little late for apologies,” you said. 

Sam nodded. “I understand. While we’re on the topic of apologies, could you elaborate on your relationship with your brother, Kieran?”

You shrugged. “I feel as he explained it well enough when testified. He wanted to be like Benjamin. He acted like Benjamin. It was only earlier this week that I knew he had a change of heart.”

“Did you forgive him?” Walker asked. 

“I asked if he was going to be a coward like Benjamin. Kieran said he never wanted to be like that man again. That was the end of it,” you said. “After his testimony, I’m not sure. He did something right, he did something good. But he still hurt me for so many years, for no good reason. I think it’s going to take a lot for me to feel comfortable to let him my life.”

“If I may change the subject, Your Highness,” Natasha said, “but I think it’s important to ask, given the nature of this hearing is to remove your father from the throne. Do you want to be Queen?”

You answered without giving it much thought. “I never thought much about it until recent weeks. I always assumed I would be married off to some foreign dignitary, sent far away from here. I didn’t think I had the right to rule. But after everything I’ve been through, there is nothing I would rather do. If Benjamin was killing to kill me, I can only imagine the horrible things he has done as King that has gone unnoticed. I don’t want anyone to suffer the way I have. I want to do right by the people.”

You took a pause, looking at Cleo who was curled up on your lap, then back to your entire row of a support group behind you. You looked at the people around the room, all of them watching you with bated breath. You looked at Benjamin, who struggled to maintain his poker face. You turned back around. 

“There would be no greater honor than if I could serve my people as Queen. There is nothing else I would rather do.”

[starryevermore]

do not chastise the dove (14) ✧ 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 king is exposed, the future is considered, and the past is revealed. 

word count: 4,582

warnings?: inaccurate depiction of legal proceedings, fluff, a little angsty, discussion of randall + wendy, discussion of did, pet name (dove)

If Kieran wasn’t telling the truth, Jake was going to kill him. He didn’t care that Kieran was your brother (and he supposed you didn’t care much, either). Jake couldn’t stand the idea that you might get hurt again. That Kieran might have been misleading you. That Kieran was trying to build your hopes up just so he may tear them all down again. Jake said as much to you. 

After Kieran left and Steven let Jake front while he tried to calm down, Jake couldn’t stop himself from declaring a string of threats toward Kieran. But when he saw the look in your eye as you stared at the door, he stopped. You wouldn’t say it—perhaps you couldn’t—but you wanted to believe that Kieran had a change of heart. So, Jake took you in his arms and squeezed you tight and said nothing. Words, he realized, wouldn’t be enough to comfort you at the moment. 

Now, as he watched Kieran approach the bench, Jake wished he could hold you like that again. Instead, he settled for taking your hand in his and giving it a squeeze. “You’ll be okay, my dove,” Jake said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I want to be more than okay,” you whispered back. “I want to be safe.”

Sam banged his gavel, calling the hearing into order. “Thank you all for coming to the second day of this hearing on whether His Majesty, King Benjamin should be removed from the throne. We begin today with hearing from Kieran Y/L/N,” Sam said. He looked to Kieran. “Please state your name and occupation for the record.”

Kieran cleared his throat. “My name is Kieran Y/L/N. My occupation is…Well, it’s complicated. For the last twenty-nine years, I thought that I was a prince, that I would be King and I acted as such. In recent weeks…I suppose I’ve just been a son. I’ve just been a brother. Not a good one, either. Not a good brother, I mean.”

“Could you explain that last statement?” Natasha Romanoff asked. 

Kieran nodded. “When I thought I was a prince, I looked up to my father. I wanted to be just like him. Where he moved, I followed. And when he thought Y/N was an embarrassment to the Crown, I echoed his concerns. It wasn’t until Y/N was poisoned that I realized I was wrong to follow him.”

“You say you looked up to the King and followed his every move. I would imagine that means he let you be privy to information he prefers to keep close to his chest,” Monica said. “Is that a correct presumption?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Kieran said. “He was raising me to be King. In order to be an effective King in the future, it helped to see how the current King worked. I got to see and hear a lot of things that no one else, save for his advisor Arthur Harrow, got to see and hear.”

“Then did he confess to you that he was behind the poisoning of the princess?” Monica asked. 

“Not in so many words, ma’am,” Kieran said. “That night, after everyone had left, I was going to his office, my father’s office, because I was concerned if someone was threatening us. I wanted to know if this was something we should be concerned about. When I reached his office, I heard him talking with Harrow. My father had commended Harrow on the wine served. My sister…She hated wine. Her birthday ball is the only event where she was allowed to dictate what drinks were served. My father usually abided by that. This time, he didn’t. So, no, he didn’t tell me that he was behind the poisoning, but if the wine he had Harrow serve was the one thing my sister wasn’t controlling, I could only imagine that he was the one behind her poisoning. He didn’t say a word, though, andI don’t imagine he ever planned to. But then Y/N recovered, and she revealed to the kingdom that I am not the heir to the throne. After that, he…he became more willing to let me know about the plot to…get rid of her.”

“By get rid of her, you mean that the King planned to have the princess, the true heir to the throne, killed?” Wanda asked. 

“Yes, ma’am,” Kieran confirmed. 

“The princess’s poisoning was not the only attempt on her life,” Sam said. “Not long after the incident at the ball and the subsequent reveal that you were not the legitimate heir to the throne, the guard the Parliament assigned to her was attacked and another man posed as the guard. He then kidnapped the princess while her guard was down and took her away from the city where she was tortured. Had it not been for her fiancés efforts, she might no longer be with us.”

Your nails bit into the skin of Jake’s hand. He was almost certain that he was going to bleed. Jake peered at you, trying to get a read of your face, but you appeared unemotional. But he could see the pain in your eyes. It hadn’t been very long since you were saved. The wounds were still fresh.

“Are you to suggest, then,” Sam continued, “that the King was also behind this?”

“Yes, sir,” Kieran said. “I wasn’t privy to the information at the time she was kidnapped. My father thought I was on his side. I suppose he believed I was upset over being outed as a bastard to the entire kingdom. To be fair, I was. But none of that anger was ever directed at my sister. She was only doing what she thought was right—she did what was right. I might have preferred her to let me know before going on national television, but she thought I was still against her, like I always had been. I don’t blame her, or hate her, for any action she has taken. Still, because of my past actions, my father thought I was on his side. So, when I saw the headline that my sister was missing, I had an inkling that, if I asked, he might tell the truth.”

“What did the King say?” Wanda asked. 

“I think it’s better that you hear it from the King himself,” Kieran said, raising a CD. “My father’s not the only one who’s familiar with the kingdom’s laws. Knowing that the information was invaluable, I recorded our conversation.”

One of the guards standing by came forward and took the CD from Kieran. Another guard wheeled out a stereo system and inserted the CD. Jake took a moment to look at Benjamin, and he reveled in the look on his face. Oh, Jake was sure Benjamin’s head was about to explode from how angry he was. Good. He deserved it. 

The guard pressed play, and the sound echoed through the room—

“Father, have you seen the news?”

“There’s a lot of things on the news,” Benjamin replied. There was a rustling of papers in the background. “Care to be more specific? You know a future King must always use specificity in his language.”

“Y/N has gone missing. They’re saying she’s been kidnapped.”

It sounded like Benjamin let out a snort of a laugh. “Oh, I’ve seen that. Why do you ask?”

There was a pause. “Well, she embarrassed us. I figured you might take some action against her, and I…I want to be able to keep our stories straight. In case someone asks us if we were involved, I mean. I…What I mean to ask is, were you involved in this?”

“The Parliament is made up of a bunch of fools. They’ll never be able to pin this on us, no matter how hard they tried.”

I’m gonna kill ‘im, Steven snarled.

Jake glanced at you. You looked like you were about to be sick. You looked like you were ready to jump from your seat and flee the building. Your chest heaved as you tried to steady your breathing. Jake let go of your hand and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, holding you tight. 

“Is that a yes?”

“Of course it’s a yes!” Benjamin snapped. He took a breath, then let out a low chuckle. “They won’t find her. Harrow will make sure of that. The capitol and the surrounding cities will shut down. By the time law enforcement realizes she’s not in the city, it’ll be too late to save her.”

The room erupted into shouts and screams. Most of them were directed at Benjamin. All of them, perhaps, were directed at Benjamin. There was too much going on at once for Jake to even attempt deciphering it all. Someone threw something at Benjamin. (Jake was half-convinced Steven took a page out of Mark’s book and took control of the arm and threw it himself.) Sam banged his gavel, trying to restore order. Order, however, was not restored. Jake supposed it wouldn’t be restored for a long time. 

The hearing let out early that day.

After the hearing descended into madness, Jake and you returned to the hotel. Steven fronted shortly thereafter, wanting to spend some time with you. So, he ditched the suit that Jake had worn to the hearing, slipping into a pair of pajama pants and a loose t-shirt. Then he crawled into the bed he and you shared and eagerly awaited cuddle time. Unfortunately, you couldn’t join him right away. Apparently, you needed to talk to Matt and Foggy about how the hearing would go for the rest of the week. So, now he waited in bed for you to get off the phone. 

“Hi baby,” Steven cooed as Cleo hopped into the bed. Cleo curled up on his chest, purring lowly. Steven reached up, gently petting her. “Where’s your mommy at? She still on the phone?”

“Mew?” Cleo lifted her head, leaning forward and bumping her nose against Steven’s. 

Before Steven could say anything more, he heard you walking into the room. He turned his head, watching as you came over, carrying a bag of Cleo’s treats. “There you are!” you said, setting the treat bag on the nightstand before climbing into the bed beside Steven. You looked to him, smiling, laughter seeping into your words as you said, “I mentioned getting the baby a treat and she came running to you! Want to confess to spoiling our little baby?”

“Whatever Marc told you is a lie,” Steven said. 

Hey! You and I both know you’ve been sneaking Cleo treats every opportunity you get, Marc said. 

“Then is Jake a liar too?” you teased.

Et tu, Jake? 

I’m no snitch!, Jake protested. 

“Jake’s calling you the liar,” Steven said. 

Woah, woah, woah, Jake said. Don’t put words in my mouth!

“I don’t think he’d do that,” you said, leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to Steven’s lips. His eyes fluttered shut and he instinctively followed after you as you pulled away. “Just like he didn’t say you’ve been spoiling our baby with treats.”

Steven’s heart stuttered in his chest. Our baby. God, he loved the sound of that. He so desperately craved any form of domesticity. And he so desperately wanted that with you. Steven wanted a life, and everything that that entailed, with you. 

“You’re rotten,” Steven said. “Think you owe me another kiss for that, don’t you? I think you do.”

You smiled and leaned in, your lips molding together with his. Steven reached up, caressing your face, holding you close to him. God, he could have stayed like that forever, but someone had other plans. Cleo, not happy with the situation, jumped up and swatted at you, causing you to jump away from Steven.

“Cleo!” you gasped. “No, don’t do that!”

“Jealous baby,” Steven said, laughing. He rested his head on your shoulder, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. “Do you want a baby? Like a human baby?”

You were quiet for a moment. Steven worried that he overstepped. Was it too early to have these conversations? Was now not a good time? It probably wasn’t… You had so much on your mind. The last thing you needed to be thinking about was starting a family. For goodness sake, the two of you haven’t even begun planning a wedding! 

“I never really gave it much thought, if I’m being honest,” you finally said. Oh. Maybe now was not the best time to be talking about this then. Steven should really try and segue the conversation back to a more appropriate topic. Yet, before he could, you continued, “But…I think I like that idea. I mean, only if it’s with my loves.”

Steven’s face warmed. He understood why Jake liked being called that so much. It made him feel all warm and fuzzy. It made him feel loved and appreciated. It made him feel like he belonged with you. “I want a big family. At least three, I think,” Steven said. “And I hope they all take after you—beautiful and brilliant.”

“I hope they take after my loves,” you said. “Kind and loyal. Maybe a little bit snippy, too.”

“It’s not nice to call Marc snippy, dove,” Steven said. 

“Sure, that’s who I was talking about,” you laughed. “Certainly not the one who’s been vying to fight Benjamin ever since he met him.”

“Wouldn’t be much of a fight. I’d flatten ‘im before he even realized I was comin’ at ‘im.”

You giggled, carding your fingers through his hair. “What do you think we should name our babies?”

“Randall,” Steven said before he could stop himself. His heart stopped as soon as he said it. Shit. Marc’s trauma was Steven’s trauma, but…Sometimes Steven felt so far removed from it. He didn’t have a lot of the same memories as Marc. His childhood was so different to Marc’s. Oh, he hoped he hadn’t upset Marc…

“Oh? Is he someone important to you?”

“He—” Steven started. 

Please, don’t. Not yet, Marc asked—nay, begged. 

“He’s someone Marc should tell you about,” Steven said. “It’s a sensitive topic, though. Let him bring it up to you, yeah?”

You nodded, a frown settling on your face. “Is he listening now?” When Steven nodded, you said, “Take all the time you need, my love. But know that I am always ready and willing to listen. And that I like the name Randall if it’s okay with him.”

Please tell her thank you, Marc said. 

Steven repeated Marc’s words to you. Then, he asked, “Do you have any names in mind, dove?”

“I like Elaine, after my mother,” you said. “I think I like it more as a middle name. I’m not too sure.”

What about Eliana?, Jake suggested. Inspired by her mother, but still our baby girl’s own name.

“Jake suggested Eliana,” Steven said. 

Your eyes lit up at the suggestion. “Oh, I really like that! Yeah, if we have a daughter, I think we should name her Eliana.”

“Mew?” Cleo said, nudging her head against your shoulder. 

“Another daughter, I mean,” you corrected. “We’ll name our second daughter Eliana, because we already have an amazing first daughter.”

“Mew!” Cleo agreed, nodding her head before turning back to Steven and curling up against him. 

“I love this,” Steven said. “I feel so at peace with you. I just want to jump ahead and make it all official, you know? Marry you, properly move in together, the whole shebang.”

You let out a sigh. “It’ll be a long while before we can do all that. We still have to finish this hearing. Then there’s the coronation, which will have to be done before we’re married. Only after that can we start planning the wedding. It’ll be a few years before we can finally get married.”

“Does it really have to take that long?” Steven asked. “You don’t have to abide by all of those procedures, you know.”

“I’m supposed to. It’s what they expect. After everything that’s happened, I have to be on my best behavior. The Royal Family is all about following tradition.”

“But, the people like you because you’re not traditional, dove. You go against everything the Royal Family has done for the last hundred years. If you don’t do what’s expected, they’ll probably love you even more,” Steven said. “And besides, shouldn’t you do things that make you happy? We could still do a big, public ceremony after the coronation. But what’s stopping us from having a private ceremony before then?”

“I suppose you’re right,” you said. “It just…It terrifies me. Every time I do anything, I just hear Benjamin chastising me. Telling me that I’m going to ruin everything him and my ancestors have built.”

“You can’t ruin what was built on a faulty foundation, dove. You can only improve it.”

The hearing for the day had been cancelled as Parliament tried to handle the aftermath of Kieran presenting the recording of Benjamin confessing to having you kidnapped and tortured. Marc was grateful. He knew how much of a toll it was taking on you, and he knew you deserved a break from it. And, it gave him reason to cuddle you, which was always a plus. 

It was midmorning, and the two of you were still in bed. Cleo had abandoned you both a few hours earlier, seeking out the warmth of the sunshine streaming in through the windows. Now, you and him laid in the comfort of each other’s arms, both of you finding reasons to not get up. 

“We should get up soon,” you would say, running your fingers along Marc’s jawline. “We should do something productive.”

“Cuddling you is productive,” Marc would whisper back, fighting to keep his eyes open. It felt so easy to rest around you. He had never felt so relaxed in his life. “Besides, it’s cold out there, and you’re nice and warm.”

And hot!, Jake would say. 

I think that was implied, Steven would laugh.

I’m trying to have a moment here! Marc would say. 

Marc liked looking at you like this, when you were at your most vulnerable. He liked being one of the few people who got to see you like this. Your sleepy eyes, your eyelashes fluttering as you drifted between the dreamworld and reality, your slowed movements as you pulled him closer to you. He loved this. He loved you.

Which…he felt bad about. Not the loving you part. God, he could never feel badly about that. It’s just…the words. Saying them. Every time he tried, it felt like he was choking. Like someone had reached around from behind him, clasped their hand around his throat, and squeezed. Worse, perhaps, you never got upset with him about it. You were so patient with him. And that scared him. How long might that last? You’d never given any indication that you might snap, but…Well, that’s never stopped people who were supposed to love him before. 

Still, he wanted to say it. He wanted to shout it from the rooftops. And even while he couldn’t, not yet, he still wanted to show you in every conceivable way possible. 

Marc leaned in, nuzzled his nose against yours. “We haven’t taken you on a real date yet,” he whispered, his breath fanning across your face. He leaned in, like he was subconsciously trying to melt into you. He wished he could. 

“You don’t have to do that,” you said. “I enjoy your company plenty without having to go on a date.”

He reached down, taking your hands in his, intertwining his fingers with yours. He squeezed your hands once, twice, three times. “I want to spoil you. I can’t give you much in terms of money or, or gifts. But I can make you feel special. And I want to make you feel special.”

You leaned your forehead against his, letting out a soft sigh. “Nothing fancy, please? I can’t stand formalities much these days. I want it to just be us—and Steven and Jake, if they decide to hang around.”

“I have the perfect date in mind,” he said. He started to get up, slowly unwinding himself from you. “I have to go make a coupla calls to get it set up, dove.”

“Nooo,” you whined, reaching out, trying to stop him from leaving. “Stay here, make the calls here.”

“I want it to be a surprise, my dove,” he laughed. “And I need to call soon, or else it might not be ready for tonight.”

“Fine,” you said, your lower lip jutting out into a pout. “But can we cuddle some more after you make the call?”

“Of course, dove,” Marc said. 

After a few phone calls, an extended cuddle session, and several hours later, Marc was ready to take you out on your first date together. It was more on the casual side, which Marc noted that you seemed to be relieved by given the way you brightened when he responded to your question as to what would be appropriate for the evening. Marc had noticed that about you. You would never complain, never say a bad word about it, but he could tell you were exhausted after years of having to act prim and proper. 

Even at your most casual, though, you looked angelic. It was amazing to witness, if he was being honest. You were the sort of person artists would call their muse. You were the sort of person people wrote poems about. You were the sort of person who, even long after you were gone, would still live on in people’s memories and stories. And Marc was forever grateful that he got to witness that. 

“You ready, dove?” Marc asked, watching as you slipped on a pair of shoes. 

“Mhm,” you hummed, rising out of your seat and crossing the room to him, slipping your hand in his. You squeezed his hand once, twice, three times. (He nearly cried.) “Where we headed to, my love?”

(Dammit, you wanted him to bawl like a baby, didn’t you?)

“I got us a private room at the hotel restaurant,” Marc said, leading you out of the room and to the elevator. “It’s nothing fancy, but I thought it was better than venturing outside and having to fight off the vultures.”

You laughed. “They’re just trying to make a living.”

You were too kind. The kingdom didn’t deserve you. God, it frustrated Marc to no end that people could be so cruel, that people would try to take advantage of you and your kindness. 

“They could be more respectful,” Marc said. “It’s not like it’s hard.”

“They would never change. They don’t have a reason to,” you said. “But let’s not talk about them. I don’t want them to ruin our night.”

Finally, you reached the restaurant, and the hostess led you both to a private room near the back of the restaurant. Marc pulled your seat out for you, allowing you to sit before pushing it in. He took his seat across from you, then ordered your favorite champagne for the both of you. 

“You’ll pulling out all the stops for something that’s supposed to be casual, Mr. Spector,” you teased, your eyes twinkling as you looked at him. 

“I can still treat you right while on a casual date,” Marc said. He reached across the table and took your hand in his. He squeezed once, twice, three times. “You only deserve the best, dove. I want to make sure you always treated right.”

“How did I get so lucky?” 

“I’m the lucky one,” Marc said. A lump settled in his throat, tears pricked at his eyes. Fuck. He didn’t think he’d get so emotional so quickly. He swallowed hard. Cleared his throat. “I never thought I’d experience something so amazing. I didn’t think I deserved it.”

Your brows furrowed together. “Of course you deserve amazing things, Marc. Why wouldn’t you?”

He looked away, not meeting your gaze. He wanted to tell you. He wanted to tell you everything that had happened to him, that made him what he is. But…it terrified him. He hated the idea of opening up to someone, anyone. Even when that someone was a person as considerate as you. Marc could trust you with anything. He knew that. But jumping over that hurdle? He was scared he might fall.  

“Oh. Hey, don’t feel like you have to tell me anything, okay? I didn’t mean to bring up something uncomfortable.”

“He was my brother,” Marc blurted out. 

“Huh?”

“Randall. He was my brother,” Marc said. “He…He died, when we were little.”

Your eyes softened as you looked at him. “I’m so sorry. That must’ve been awful.”

“I blamed myself…It was an accident, but I was supposed to look out for him, but I…I failed. He died because of me,” he whispered. “My mom made sure I never forgot that.”

You squeezed his hand, tight, once, twice, three times. You didn’t say anything. You knew that he needed to let this off his chest. He was carrying a heavy burden, and he could take however long he needed to unload it. 

“Do you know what causes DID?” he asked. When you shook your head, he said, “Severe, prolonged trauma. My mom…She…she…She convinced herself I did it on purpose. That I secretly hated Randall. She took her anger out on me. That’s how we got Steven. He, he doesn’t have the same memories of my mom as I do. I couldn’t protect Randall, but I…I could shield Steven from her. He didn’t know about how cruel she was until much later.”

He took a deep breath, trying to control his rapid heartbeat. “Jake came later. He’s newer to the system. As I got older, I got more aggressive. I got angrier. It got worse when I joined the Moon Knights. I made a lot of stupid decisions early on. I…I got really close to dying. Jake, he…Where I protected Steven, he protected us both. He kept us safe.”

You lifted your joined hands, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. 

“It…It’s hard for me to talk about my emotions,” he said. “Even the good ones. Anytime I showed any emotion, I got punished for it. By my mom, by the Moon Knights…I get scared that if I tell you how I feel, you’ll punish me for it. But I also get scared that you’ll leave me, because I can’t say three simple words.”

“I know how you feel, my love,” you said, You squeezed his hand once, twice, three times. “You tell me even if you don’t use words. I understand your fears. But I won’t ever intentionally hurt you. You can take as much time as you need. I love you, and whether you ever feel safe enough to say the words or you don’t, that won’t ever change.”

“Thank you,” he whispered. 

“Thank you for telling me all of this,” you said. “I know it must’ve been really hard for you to talk about.”

It was. God, it felt like Marc was walking across hot coals to tell you what he did, even with him leaving out many of the details. “You make me feel safe,” he said. 

He hoped he made you feel the same.