Work Text:
His hand was stiff where it was cradled in the grasp of Steve’s hand. Even after everything that had transpired in the past seven months Tony could not find it in himself to relax. He hated this marriage even if he no longer hated the man at his side. For Tony, as they walked down the aisle, wrapped in their traditional matrimony costumes, everything ahead of him felt like an end to a dream.
Seven months earlier
The summons to present himself to the Council’s Study was unusual enough that Steve didn’t outright dismiss it. If Stephen, Bucky, and Natasha were asking to speak to him there instead of his convocation or even his private study, they must feel discretion was absolutely necessary. Curiosity piqued, he excused himself from the assemblage of citizens seeking help from the crown and sycophants scrounging like rats. As he turned the corner that led to the Council’s Study he waved off the two guards following him and noted Bucky waiting outside the doors.
Bucky spotted him and smiled. The smile was genuine and sincere prompting Steve to return it, his shoulders relaxing as the sensation of eyes crawling over him finally stopped. He hugged the other man tightly, glad to the depths of his soul at the sight of his longest friend.
“Strange and Natalia are inside,” Bucky inclined his head toward the closed door behind him.
“Let’s wait to speak inside.”
Bucky smiled again and clasped Steve on the shoulder as he opened the door. Once inside, Stephen Strange swept behind them, closing the door and quickly forming sigils with his hands to seal the room. Across the room, her back to a corner of the room, Natasha Romanov watched silently, her hands tucked behind her back.
“If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you three were planning my assassination,” Steve tilted his head at the woman across the room, acknowledging her with respect and smiling in amusement, his elongated incisors pronounced and unmistakable.
“If I wanted you dead, Steve, I would not be standing somewhere you could see me.”
“Some would say,” Strange said as he came around Steve’s side and walked over the large table cluttered with books he called a desk, “that what we have to tell you is tantamount to a death sentence.”
“Good thing I’ve outlived a few death sentences then. What’s got you all on edge?”
For an answer, Bucky threw a magazine at him. Steve caught the publication and looked at the cover. It was one of the trashy magazines one would find at the grocery store checkout or a gas station. The paper was inferior and the photo on the front grainy even though 21st century phones could easily produce crisp, clean pictures. The headline splashed strategically over the bad photo read, ‘ Duke Destined?’
Steve badly wanted to ask what the Duke of Manhattan sunbathing nude on an Italian beach had to do with him, but he trusted the others and dutifully opened the magazine, quickly skimming through it to find whatever it was the Council wanted him to find. The main article was a series of more photos of Antonio, the Duke of Manhattan living out a life of a pampered pup but the headline for the actual article is what made an ominous chill run down his spine.
Who is the Duke’s Soulmate?
While enjoying a week-long trip to his family’s estate in Rimini, Italy, Antonio Carbonell Stark, Duke of Manhattan, Prince of Northern York, and Lord Scholar of the Accademia del Sole was seen to have a soul mark by numerous people. Sources close to the royal stated the intricate design is not a tattoo or other false mark and is, in fact, a soul mark.
A much better photo was blown up to show the intricate marking that curved from just under the prince’s right hip to just under his ass. Soul marks were complex and made up of more than a drawn on-like pattern on the skin. They combined scar-like tissues, raised and textured differently than the rest of the skin as well as a change in skin pigments in what, at first, was a hard to define pattern. There was a reason for that, in order to view the full picture the soulmate’s marks would have to be combined. Soul marks, and thus soulmates, were notoriously rare; in the past twenty years Steve had only heard of one pair being found.
Now, as he looked at the lines marking the young man oblivious to the repercussions of him being seen on his own property, Steve saw the full disaster looming over him. He knew what the mark across the other man’s leg were, combined with the soul mark that ran from Steve’s right hip towards his navel they clearly made the shape of a tree, a stylized Gaelic oak tree.
“Shit.”
Five Months before the wedding
Tony narrowed his eyes at the bowl placed in front of him. Tomato, he hoped. He’d only been at Castle Brooklyn for a week and he couldn’t shake the sensation of creepiness in the mausoleum-like building he now had to call his home. Glancing up from the soup he looked down the long table to where his intended sat. Tony could admit that Steven Rogers was good looking. There were dozen of websites solely dedicated to thirsting after the man, as Tony had discovered by innocently stumbling upon, not that he was searching .
King Steven Rogers of Southern York was a bit more surprising in person, though, Tony admitted. For one he wasn’t a sickly pale white most pictures showed him to be, so Tony figured his pictures were getting the photoshop treatment in order to make him appear like the more ideal image of a vampire. Since Northern and Southern York were still technically at war - though the armistice had been in place since before Tony’s grandfather had been born - the royal families never saw each other in person. He’s been shocked at the healthy, golden glow to Steven’s skin when he’d received Tony’s entourage a week ago. He was also built like a truck and not lean and silvete like Tony had been told pure Vampires were. After just a few minutes in Steven’s presence he had really started to wonder who the hell the paparazzi was taking photos of to put on all those websites. The ones he didn’t search for.
“Have you settled well?”
Tony stilled, stamping down the urge to show how startled he was by the other man speaking up. Other than a polite ‘welcome’ at the start of their previous four dinners together Steven hadn’t said a word until bidding him ‘good night’ at the end of their dinner. Tony’s first urge was to tell the king his castle was creepy AF but he managed to keep that comment to himself. Like the vampire would even care Tony was uncomfortable in his castle.
“I am,” Tony finally said as he maintained eye contact with the other man. One thing the myths got right was the strange glow to a vampire’s eyes. Steven’s were luminescent and piercing, made even more dramatic for the startling vivid blue of his eyes. “Thank you.”
“For?”
“I know you didn’t have to allow Rho- Colonel Rhodes or Lady Virginia to stay with me.”
Steve’s brow drew together in momentary confusion before his expression cleared, leaving no inkling of what he was thinking. “You will be Lord Consort after we are married, whoever you wish to visit or stay is up to you, no one will interfere. We may have options and express them but if you want someone to be here then your wish is law.”
Tony’s eyes narrowed in concentration at the other man. “And what are your opinions of my entourage?”
“I …,” Steve began, leaning back casually in his high backed chair, “I am glad you have friendly faces in this unusual place.”
“Your castle is creepy as fuck,” he blurted.
Steven barked out a startled laugh before cutting it off and hiding his smile behind his hand, “I have always thought the same. Do you have any ideas on how to fix that?”
2 days after Italy
“You’re fucking kidding me? This is a joke, right? Rhodey, sourpuss, is this some sort of payback for that thing in Florida?”
“No, no, and no. Stop being so damn dramatic and sit down,” Rhodey stirred the coffee in his cup for lack of anything else to do. His only option was to just passively deal with Tony’s tantrum or watch the prince pace back and forth like a zoo animal.
Tony did not, in fact, sit down. Not that Rhodey thought he would have. Instead Tony continued to pace the length of the office Rhodey had brought him to as soon as he’d returned from frolicking in Italy. He turned to his best friend and scowled. As his bestie, Rhodey had bestie obligations - like somehow preventing Tony’s life from being ruined - but Rhodey was also a Colonel in the Royal Guard and took his job far more seriously than their college years could have predicted.
“There has-”
Rhodey held up a hand before Tony could get really revved up with that line of thinking, “The King has already tried the political route and Pepper and Matt couldn't find a loophole for you to wiggle out of. If it makes you feel any better, judging by the messenger's face, the vampires aren’t thrilled with this development either. The message from King Rogers used the phrase ‘our marks are inconvenient’ or so I’ve heard.”
“Fat lot of good that does if he’s insisting the tradition be upheld.” Tony finally sat, fiddling nervously at the ornate china cup he’d been served his coffee in. “I don’t want to get married, I have never wanted to be married, and I have successfully thwarted four attempts to trap me in marriage.”
Rhodey’s face softened, “I know, under bestie law I am both sorry and ready to maul the fuck out of any vampire that tries to hurt you - king or no. But as a member of the Royal Guard and thus under the rule of your asshole father, you’re getting packed up and moving into Brooklyn Castle by the end of next month. Obadiah has already written up the peace treaty and started making the arrangements.”
Deflated, Tony slumped in his chair. He wanted to keep raging but it wasn’t Rhodey’s fault. And since no one who deserved his anger was present he didn’t have the energy to cover up the fact that he was scared as fuck.
Across from him, Rhodey’s dark eyes narrowed, “and don’t worry, the moment I find out who trespassed and got those pictures in Remini I’m going to sic Pepper on them.”
Tony really did love his friends.
6 weeks before the wedding
Standing atop the platform in his throne room, Steve surveyed the man in front of him. Steve hadn’t bothered to sit on his throne and instead looked down the length of his nose at the bleeding and beaten werewolf on his hands and knees several steps below him. King Howard stood several yards back, conferring with some of the Northern York pack that had accompanied him to Brooklyn for the Engagement Gala scheduled for the night after next. At least the wolf king appeared just as angry over this turn of events that Steve felt. He’s be sure to have Natasha’s network of spies look into what specifically he was angry about - the failed assassination or the fact his Prime Minister had actually planned to assisinate his son.
“There has been a mis-”
“Gag him,” Steve ordered. Two guards moved to fulfill the order even as a door to the far left of the chamber opened.
The scent of oak trees and dew reached Steve’s nostrils causing him to inhale deeply. The scent of coffee buried deeper in the complex aroma that Steve recognized as belonging to his mate. For a second he felt his muscles relax knowing Tony was okay but then he caught the sharp tang of blood coming from the direction Tony had entered. He’d bared his teeth in a deathly promise at the piece of shit cowering below him before turning quickly to see how hurt Tony was.
The prince was moving quickly towards him, the hastily donned robe fanning out around his legs and drawing Steve’s attention to the bared and slightly muddied feet. Other than patches of dirt and a leaf in his hair, Tony appeared unhurt. Behind him, though, Steve found where the new scent of blood was coming from. Pepper, Tony’s courtier and close friend, followed behind him. She was dressed similarly to the prince but the bottom of her face and visible cleavage bore the unmistakable remains of gore and gristle. Behind her, Colonel Rhodes and Bucky were likewise marred.
“How was your full-moon run, Antonio?” Steve’s eyes were drawn back to his mate, pleased to see the other man’s eyes glowing with restrained, feral rage.
“Eventful,” he said succinctly.
Tony took up the spot next to Steve on the dais, his predator eyes locked at the man gagged below. Steve took the cue and looked back to their prisoner. Bucky moved down the steps as if to place himself between the traitor and his King but stopped short, instead waiting for Steve to give the word.
“You, Obadiah Stane, have shown a supreme lack of common sense and self-preservation here, tonight, and no doubt your King will find similar faults with the years of public service you have provided the people of Northern York.”
From the back, Howard let out a low, dangerous growl, practically foaming at the mouth.
“But here in Southern York,” Steve took a step down from the dais before continuing, “you are insignificant save for the danger you now have demonstrated to be to not only my soulmate, but the people I am obligated and honored to protect.”
Steve took the final two steps and reached out, his right hand wrapping around the pudgy neck of man. “Do you have anything to say before I carry out my sentence, King Stark?”
“Kill him here or I’ll kill him myself. The treaty will be upheld no matter the fall out,” Howard spat out.
Before the other king had even finished talking, Steve’s fingers began to tighten, the hard nails biting into flesh until it gave way to blood. Steve’s thumb sliced into the man’s trachea and he dropped Stane to the ground. For several seconds, Stane spasmed before succumbing to his death - whether from blood loss or drowning in his own blood - Steve did not care. He turned back to the dais as snarls and barking growls erupted from the dozen or so werewolves in the room; something the wolves were known to do as a show of dominance over the body of a defeated enemy.
Steve quickly took the steps up until he could pet at Tony’s cheek with his clean left hand.
Tony’s eyes were molten gold when their eyes met. “He underestimated you.”
“He underestimated you, too,” Steve replied, “your intuition and suspicion helped Nat find out about the plot. I’m only sorry it wasn’t early enough to prevent your friends from being hurt.”
Pepper caught his eye and grinned, “I’m not hurt, and Rhodes only twisted his leg on the way back when he slipped on some bloody grass.”
The man in question grunted, “I was carrying three corpses.”
Tony let out a harsh breath, the curling bangs across his forehead fluttering from the force, “You were dragging three corpses from your jaws even after Bucky told you not to bother.”
From behind Steve, Howard cleared his throat. Steve turned, noting Stane’s body was being dragged away before facing the other king.
“You seem to be without a Prime Minister,” Steve observed. Howard’s eyes flashed in anger as he let out a short snarl.
“Good riddance. Several of his aides have already admitted to some policy rigging and underhanded politics.” Howard’s eyes turned to Tony but quickly returned to Steve.
“You should have Carol appointed in the interim,” Tony injected, “she’ll probably do such a good job that when the elections come around she’ll win by a landslide. Bonus, then Rhodey will be First-Lady.”
Now
Facing his soulmate did nothing to quell the kaleidoscope of negative emotions that squirmed in Tony’s stomach and ached under his skin. This was it, this was the moment he’d lose all autonomy over himself and his destiny. Steve’s blue eyes bore into him as he lifted a ring to Tony’s hand and he gulped.
“I, King Steven Grant Rogers the First of Southern York, High Captain of Brooklyn and Tiarna Vampire of America, take Antonio Carbonell Stark, Duke of Manhattan, Prince of Northern York, and Lord Legatee of Pack America as my mate, as ordained by the stars and destined by the gods. With this ring, Tony, I promise to love you, honor you, make all your days ones of happiness.”
Tony’s eyes had widened, his breath momentarily stopped when Steve had said his name. Everything after that was not in the standard vows and Tony realized Steve had written his own vows - vows he was making to Tony directly in the presence of everyone to see and record.
“In the past few months I have learned the sharpness of your wit, the magnitude of your intelligence and the depth of your heart. I have doubted things I thought were truth and started to believe in things I thought were fairy tales. In the time spent in your company I have realized how barren my time before you was. No matter what brought us together, whatever the future holds, know that you will always be my home.”
Tears were building in Tony’s eyes as Steve slid the ring into its place on Tony’s left hand. He realized the anger and fear rolling in him like a dark monster had quieted. In its place was a supreme sense of rightness. For a moment he panicked. Tony had intended to just rattle off the traditional vows but Steve had derailed that. Instead, he took the ring Pepper pressed into his hand and brought it up to Steve’s left ring finger.
“I, Prince Antonio Edward Carbonell Stark, Duke of Manhattan, Prince of Northern York, and Lord Legatee of Pack America, take Steven Grant Rogers, King of Southern York, High Captain of Brooklyn and Tiarna Vampire of America as my mate, as ordained by the stars and destined by the gods. With this ring, Steve, I promise to always love you, challenge you, make each of your days happier than the one before it. There are places a person belongs and journeys they must make. For me, my home, my place of belonging, is in your heart. For me, all journeys begin and end with you.”
The ring shone brightly in the light of the cathedral from where Tony let it rest at the base of Steve’s finger. Without a thought for whatever the Sorcerer Strange was saying as part of the marriage ceremony, Steve surged forward. Tony met him in the middle, their hands tightly clasped as their lips pressed hard and perfectly together. Tony had not said what he said as a flowery show for the tabloids. Instead, he realized, every word was true. While he had felt being anyone's husband would mean restricting who he was, he realized, being Steve’s husband meant the opposite. Steve was the roots keeping him grounded as he grew, spread his branches and reached to the sky.