Chapter Text
He does not come to the palace for meetings, though he sits on the council, though his brother is King, though he is commander of the armies.
He prefers to lead his soldiers into glorious, victorious, bloody battles, emblazoned with their red cloaks, the eyes of those that see him full of terror and respect.
But sometimes matters cannot be helped and when King Richard Parker demands an emergency council hearing (with all members present says the wax paper) Stephen releases his soldiers from their training, straddles his great, hulking black horse and heads for the capital.
His silhouette, that of the greatest, cruellest soldier atop a beast, is renowned and children cringe onto the dirt to watch him pass, women flutter their eyelashes and criminals steer clear. He smiles under his helmet.
Once he reaches the palace, attendants rush to him and it's not possible to forget a lifetime of being seen to, so he lets them take his horse and strides inside. The castle smells like stone and ash, and he remembers sword-fighting with Richard in the courtyard when they were just boys. Richard's five years older, but a terrible swordsman, all soft lines and gentleness. Naturally, Stephen, a loyal and devoted brother, had picked up all those qualities that Richard lacked (of which there are many) and become a brilliant swordsmen, ruthless and hard.
He does not wait to be introduced, though he knows he's late, but walks into the council room where the meeting is already underway, where wine has already been served, and where his seat is empty, dusty and unexpectant.
His brother is the only friendly face at the table. It's been months since they've seen each other, and Stephen takes in all the ways his brother has aged: silver in his hair under the deep, gold crown, lines in his face, but the glittering blue eyes that only those with Parker blood have, are strong as ever.
Stephen removes his helmet to reveal his own blue eyes, and his face. Members of the council turn away with disgust.
"Christ, Stephen. You didn't have time to bathe?" Banner retches, repugnant, and Stephen wipes brain off his cheek and skull fragments from his chin, leaving behind trails of blood, and he walks around the table, bows to his brother, and takes a seat.
"I assumed the letter was urgent." He says simply, aware how his black armour glimmers in the firelight, ebony speckled with blood and how all other men are dressed in cotton, vulnerable, weaponless.
"It is, Stephen, thank you," Richard says warmly, "it is a gift to see you again, brother. You avoid the castle too much. We are family." Richard reaches over to touch Stephen's hand.
Members of the council are clearly unhappy with the King's love for his brother. Stephen knows they see him as unpredictable, envious for the throne, cruel on all accounts - and Stephen is those things, but he is first and foremost a Parker, and loyal always to the King, even if he knows the throne would suit himself better. He does not lean forward or even smile as he pulls his hand away, but he meets his brother's eye and says:
"I am here if you need me, my King."
Richard, of course, understands the love, loyalty and devotion. He has nothing to fear from Stephen, but he's never been able to convince the other council members of that. They are unable to read Stephen at all.
The matter at hand is a political one and Stephen cares little for those. It's about trade routes and canals being blocked by rebels, food struggling to reach the fringes of the Kingdom.
Rogers suggests peace talks, Banner suggests alternate food sources, Stark suggests money, Stephen of course, suggests bloodshed.
"A little...demonstration of force." He smirks, "Fear is a tremendous motivator."
Stark sneers at him, eyes dull and brown and hideously impure. "Fear is a temporary state of mind. It's not a permanent solution to the issue."
Richard sighs. "Tony's right, Stephen. Besides, slaughtering those soldiers? Most are untrained, barely eighteen, or so I've heard. It would be seen as excessive." He doesn't say that he could hardly stand the thought of boys so young dying, not when they might be like Peter.
Stephen smiles. "We wouldn't need to kill any of them. Just the sight of my men, in their red cloaks, will do enough. Just the sight of us is fear enough. They will scatter like ants, I can promise that."
The men at the table know that enough is true. None of them can deny that Stephen is the greatest warrior and strongest Commander of the Armies the Parker line has ever had in its entire dynastic history. When Stephen was eighteen he was a cutthroat fighter and placing him as Commander had been a natural move (the council had not minded either, for it kept him from the palace). The army then had been full of boys, scared young men poorly trained and poorly equipped. Stephen had changed that. He is an excellent teacher with a sharp eye and a sharper tongue, and now he has the largest army of warriors, the best fighters in the world, fashioned with the strongest horses, the toughest armour, the deadliest blades. And all 5000 are loyal not to the crown, not to the Parker bloodline, but to him.
That last part is known around the Kingdom, whispered in the streets by peasants and nobles alike. He could cause a mutiny with a glance.
Richard must have heard of it, though he shows no indication that he minds at all.
Stephen supposes it doesn't matter if the army isn't loyal to Richard, so long as Stephen is.
Richard decides that he must ruminate further on the matter, must read more in old history books, so the council adjourns and Stephen stalks through the castle in shadow, taking in all the changes, listening to hushed conversations through closed doors, reaching all those secret passages he's known about since-
Darkness.
Stephen freezes, then immediately whips around, pinning his attacker to the wall of the hidden passage, knife against their throat, poised and ready to-
Peter grins at him, bright blue eyes twinkling in the dark, steel against his soft, delicate neck, arms rested at his side. "Uncle, a visit to the castle and no letter to your very favourite nephew?"
Stephen cannot help his smile, as he sheaths his sword and takes in Peter Parker, Prince of Kingdoms, barely eighteen and beautiful as ever. There is not a mark on him, not an inch changed since last time Stephen was here except perhaps- his brown curls longer, his long legs longer too. He is narrow, and wily, an unassuming gladiator that Stephen is very proud to have trained. It is the most appealing creature, after all, the most colourful and attractive, that delivers the deadliest sting.
"Peter," he murmurs, reaching down to kiss Peter's forehead - the most affection he will show until he knows there are no prying eyes.
"Are you so old now, Uncle?" Peter teases, glinting and lovely, "to not have heard my most stealthy attack?"
"You are quiet as the breeze," Stephen bestows, "but I did not come empty-handed. Come, let us go somewhere private so that I may give you your present."
As they walk to private chambers, Stephen can feel Peter's gaze on his face: hungry, eager, excited. He and Peter are the same: the lust for blood and triumph. Peter, however, hides his exceptionally well. Stephen has never been able to contain his own appetite for war.
When they're alone, Peter reminds him why he didn't visit a single whore-house in all his time away. Nothing can compare to his lithe body twisted against Stephen's, their eyes and skin just the same- almost mirrors, mouth as sweet as when he left, and as talented. Just the sounds of him are enough to have Stephen half way there, pulling at his britches, and it's rough and clumsy- Stephen too long in the presence of only warrior comforts and Peter too long without touches so intimate- but they find their balance, reaching climax.
In the come down, sticky with sweat, Stephen helps Peter up off the table. Stephen is still fully clothed, but Peter pulls his trousers up, his shirt long gone and Stephen admires the tight muscle there. In turn, Peter unbuttons his Uncle's shirt and places his small hand on Stephen's broad chest, tracing new scars and remembering old ones.
Stephen indulgences himself, he always does with Peter, and he tips Peter's chin up and kisses him very softly on the mouth.
It's a kiss that would betray him to the world if anyone but Peter saw it. Stephen's kiss is full of love and devotion (weakness and softness) and Peter smiles beautifully up at him, content to have his love back in his arms.
"How long are you here?" Peer whispers, barely above the crackle of the fire.
Stephen doesn't answer, and Peter's blue eyes shine wet with understanding. "Dear prince," Stephen cups Peter's jaw in his large hands and looks down at his face. "Soon your father will choose you a partner."
Peter's lashes flutter against Stephen's thumb. "You have been away too long, Uncle. Father has promised me freedom." Here Peter smiles, like he knows the pleasure his next words will bring. "He wants to rule only for a few years more, and you, his heir, will be King. I will take your place as Commander of Armies."
Stephen is still as he takes it in. He has always been his brother's heir - he was named as such before Peter was born, and then once the young Prince came, the advisors and the councils met. Stephen remembers sitting in that room as a young man, he remembers Peter, only eight years old, sitting very serious beside his father. It was tradition that they both be part of the conversation, though Peter understood so little of it.
Most members of the council had urged Richard to instil Peter as heir. As son of the King, they insisted, the Kingdom would know more stability. And, Stephen knows, the men had thought that Peter could be moulded, malleable, would be gentler, easier to sway and take direction. In truth, Stephen had not minded. Even across the table all those years ago, Peter had adored him and he knew, if he'd wished, Peter would become King only to give it all to Stephen if Stephen had asked.
But Richard knew the weight of the throne and the crown and he knew his brother's strength. Were Stephen's eyes not as blue as Peters? The bloodline as pure?
During the heir-naming ceremony, Stephen had stood before subjects not yet his - received the title from his brother, and then had the pleasure of watching every member of the council, and every person of nobility come and kneel before him and pledge their fealty to the future King. Seeing Stark on his knees had been very satisfying.
Peter too, only a cherub-faced child, had knelt before Stephen and recited words he did not understand.
Stephen had worried that perhaps, Peter and he were too alike. That as Peter grew, and their relationship grew closer, closer, and closer, Peter would desire the throne for himself- resent the pledge he'd made to his Uncle and urge his father and the council to change their minds.
Stephen is a persuasive man, but there are few who can deny Prince Peter anything. He did not want to fight Peter, uncertain of who the winner would be, uncertain he would want to fight someone he cared for.
As it was, Peter seemed only delighted in having more time to play and study things that interested him rather than the old policies of the ancient Kingdom. And as Peter grew, more perceptive and more beautiful, he saw how Stephen longed for the throne, and was happy that he would someday inherit it.
The councillors, however, had insisted that if Peter were not to be heir, he should at least marry a noble in case (Stephen is sure they hoped) something were to happen to the King's brother in battle.
This had been the heaviest cross Peter bore, to marry not for love, and Richard had agreed only reluctantly, to protect the Kingdom.
But now- since he has been away - it is clear that Richard has grown stubborn in old age and more fond than ever of his only son. Peter is free from the burden of marriage and Stephen will be inheriting the throne sooner than he ever thought.
And Peter will be- Commander of Armies.
Stephen smiles. The role will suit the boy perfectly. His men will no longer be his, but Peter's. Stephen earned their loyalty and allegiance, but Peter will be given it eagerly by every soldier for there is no one who does not adore Prince Parker, the prince who would never be King.
"Speak," Peter urges, shaking Stephen from his thoughts.
"I was thinking on how well the post will suit you."
Peter smiles, tugging at Stephen's red cloak. "This will suit me fine."
They look at one another.
"If there is to be no marriage," Peter murmurs, "and I am free..."
Stephen sighs. "If I am King, I will have to marry. They will want an heir." He grimaces. The thought of someone on his arm that isn't Peter is abhorrent. "There must be options for the crown. I will name you heir, of course, but there must be failsafes in case the worst should happen."
"So you will marry," Peter says quietly, pulling out from Stephen's hands and retrieving his shirt. Stephen watches him carefully.
"I will marry to sire a child. I will never love her."
"So you say." Peter scoffs, not looking at him.
Stephen grabs his arm and holds him firmly. Peter still does not look at him, so Stephen stares into the fire as he says: "I have room in my heart for only one, Peter Parker. You claimed it as your own some time ago."
***
As mortals plan, god laughs.
God must be laughing when he strikes down Richard Parker.
Stephen is in the midst of a small battle to gain territory the council do not think they need but Stephen knows better- when he feels something shift.
It is said the Parker bloodline sings to one another, that alongside the distinctive ocean eyes, there is a connection between all those who share the blood.
A feeling of loss across veins when a member is struck down.
His feeling is confirmed hours later when one of his men, head bowed in honour, brings him the letter.
When he leaves his tent, all his men bow to him.
He rides home but there is a plot at play. Richard was killed by a soldier in a red cloak, it's what all the reports say. It's what Stark takes no small delight in pointing out during the council meeting.
Stephen is on time to this meeting, early even, fresh from the funeral in black armour, face free from blood, and Peter is there too, though he does not sit in Richard's place. By all accounts, Stephen should take his brother's seat, but he does not out of respect.
It is the first time he has seen Peter - who's face was hidden at the funeral - but the boy is stone-faced and his eyes are angry. Stephen hopes that Peter knows, the boy must know - Stephen's men would never have done this.
"You cannot know that," Stark says flippantly. "You cannot control and speak for the action of 5000 men-"
"You have never commanded an army," Stephen says evenly. "I speak for the actions of every one of my men. Someone donned a red cloak and committed treason."
Someone, Stephen suspects, Tony paid. The truth must have come out on Richard's plan to abdicate and others must not have liked it. "If you speak for their actions," Tony says, smiling, "and we cannot rule them out- it is unquestioned that you cannot be named in as King. The controversy alone."
Bruce takes a gulp of wine. "You are the rightful heir, Stephen, no one is questioning Richard's wishes, but in light of the situation- the King supposedly killed by a member of your army, it makes it look as though we are a Kingdom without trust, without loyalty. But-"
"If Peter were made King," Tony beams, looking over at Peter as though just noticing him- "Peter, if you were made King instead and Stephen made a show of pledging his loyalty to you at your coronation, all doubts would be waylaid."
For the first time, Peter makes eye contact with Stephen.
An entire world amasses between them in an instant.
Stephen swells with relief and vindication.
They are the same.
"Lord Stark," Peter says, drawing up out of his seat. "You will address me as Prince Parker."
The councillors fall silent, and Tony blinks in surprise, dropping gently into his seat. Peter's tone is cold and distant, like mountain winds and revenge.
"I would agree with you," Peter continues, moving towards his father's empty chair and touching the metal detailing there. "Except I know that my Uncle's army are not responsible for this. Everyone knows their loyalty to Commander Stephen, everyone knows his army are an extension of himself, another hand. And I know my Uncle's loyalty was to my father. These are things that I know, Lord Stark."
Nobody says a word.
"However," here, Peter closes his eyes, and for only a moment grieves everything he has lost, a future that is never to be. "The army must stay in Stephen's control. For him to abandon them now, after they were suspected of such treason..." Peter looks at Stephen, apology in his gaze, "it could never be. Stephen will remain as Commander of the Armies."
He continues: "I will be crowned King, and you, Tony Stark, will be executed for treason."
***
Peter is crowned while Tony is still in the dungeons awaiting death.
The reveal of Tony Stark's plot rallies the Kingdom further behind Stephen. He is more respected than ever, revered for his control of his army, for their strength, he is known as a Protector of the Kingdom and his soldiers are treated like nobility (where Stephen will allow it).
When King Peter is crowned, his father's crown set on his curls, lines of nobles and soldiers waiting to bend their knee. Stephen has every one of his army kneel for Peter and the message is seen by all.
When it comes to Stephen's turn, the Kingdom watches with baited breath. Two Parkers with blue eyes, one destined to be King and not, one never to be King and crowned.
Stephen looks at his nephew, in finery and responsibility, beautiful as ever. He gets down on his knee, reaches out for Peter's hand and kisses it lingeringly.
The crowd breaks into murmuring and Peter looks down at him with wide eyes, surprised and delighted, and Stephen grins wickedly.
He'd like to see anyone try and accuse him of disloyalty now.
***
For a King-never-to-be, the crown suits Peter tremendously.
He is fair and just, like his father.
He is protective and punishing, like his Uncle.
Peter marries a friend and she delivers him a blue-eyed set of twins: boy and girl.
Stephen very much wants to kill the Queen, now that she has served her purpose, but Peter cares for her like a sister, so Stephen lets her be. Perhaps one day, Peter will change his mind.
Stephen comes back to the castle more often now, to see his beloved and to train the children in the ways of battle. He and Peter kiss in open spaces.
For his birthday, Peter requests a public execution and has a front row seat to Stephen cutting the head and hands off a murderer.
Their love is bloody, that night.
"I love you," Peter whispers in their bed, for they have their own. The children are sleeping and though it's Stephen's first night back in the palace in weeks, their rhythm has not faltered, their dance is not forgotten.
"I love you." Stephen promises.
***
Peter names Stephen his heir, to no one's surprise, but Stephen knows he will never inherit it. He would take his own life to ensure King Peter outlived him, and so the crown will never pass to his own head.
It is a shame, in some respects, as he thought it would have suited him nicely. The role is, always it seems, just out of reach.
It surprises him, that he does not seem to mind.
***
In private chambers, some time ago, Stephen grabs Peter's arm and holds him firmly. Peter still does not look at him, so Stephen stares into the fire as he says: "I have room in my heart for only one, Peter Parker. You claimed it as your own some time ago."
Prince Peter Parker, eighteen years old and hoping to be Commander of Armies says to the maybe-one-day-future-King "Claimed it? Uncle, you are mistaken. You gave it to me years ago."
Stephen smiles, drawing him close, and allows himself to ask the question only once: "Where is your heart, sweet prince?"
Peter looks at him, and touches Stephen's chest.
THE END
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EPILOGUE
Tony is given a trial, but it is a trial of tradition.
The crime of treason is laid against him, the Brutus-like slaying enacted for the Kingdom, with newly crowned King Peter at the heart of it all, playing his own father, crying out with betrayal as he is murdered, the flash of a red cloak falling to the floor to reveal-
Tony tries not to be insulted by the man they have chosen to play him.
No man of learning in the Kingdom offers to present evidence in Tony’s favour. Why should they? They believe the new King and Tony is a stain on the clean horizon of the future.
So Tony speaks on his own behalf. He himself is a learned man, and he has grown up in this Kingdom his whole life and he meets the eyes of those he has known since he was a boy. It is difficult, in truth, to stay indignant when he is guilty of that which he is accused, but his life is on the line.
It also frustrates him endlessly that Commander Stephen, Lord Stephen, normally stays away from Court Stephen, is there watching, his crimson cloak a mark in the audience.
***
Tony is a good man and he wants what is best for the Kingdom.
“Your grace,” he beseeches Richard quietly, as the King leans against the balcony and watches Peter play with his Uncle in the courtyard. Peter is but a child, six years old and easy to handle. He has his father’s temperament, is not prone to tears, and by accounts of all the royal staff, is one of the loveliest children they have ever tended. These are all indicative qualities and Tony, who has always dreaded Stephen’s reign, knows who the Kingdom needs in a monarch. “Have you given more thought to what we spoke of?”
King Richard smiles at the scene below, the sun beating down over the picture, glinting on the crown. “My brother is good with Peter, is he not? He’s always spoken against children but it seems Peter has changed his mind on the matter.” His tone is fond and content.
“Peter is an exception in many ways, my King,” Tony persists, “he would be an excellent ruler.”
Richard waves him away. “He’s only a boy, Anthony. I’ll not have this conversation now.”
Tony hears his tone and lets it slide, for a few years at least.
***
After they leave the council room, Stephen in his imposing black armour smiling like the crown is already on his head, Tony cannot help but speak his mind.
“I understand that men desire power, Stephen. But you are good as Commander of the Armies, let the King instate his son as heir.”
Stephen arches an eyebrow. “I do not force my brother to do anything, Stark. He could have named the Prince heir if he so wished. It appears he is satisfied with me.”
When Stephen turns to leave, Tony grabs his shoulder. He can see Bruce wavering worriedly at the end of the hall. Stephen looks at Tony’s hand like he’s going to cut it off, the way he does to petty thieves. “How badly do you want the throne? What will you do to get it?”
“I would never betray the Crown.” Stephen hisses.
“Not the crown.” Tony says, because Stephen would never be so foolish as to actually murder the King, “the boy.”
Something flickers over Stephen’s face then, impossible to read. Tony hates that about him. It’s one of the many things he hates about him.
“Why should I have to kill someone who does not stand in my way?” Stephen says eventually, striding away. Tony stares after him.
***
He likes it when Stephen’s away. Even though he’s turning the army into monsters, no other Kingdom dares encroach on their territory. In fact, more and more lately, it has been the other way around with Stephen crossing into planes and lands, just to take. Like he’s hungry, devouring, never going to stop or be sated.
Tony urges the King to do something about it, but Richard is indulgent to a fault and will not argue with Stephen’s results, no matter the tactics.
Tony tries to scare the truth into him, with harrowing reports of the young men Stephen is slaughtering on his quest to conquer the world. On occasions such as these- King Richard does write to his brother, distressed and appalled.
He receives letters back and his worries are gone. Tony is not privy those letters, but Stephen must have a tongue of silver.
When Stephen does return to the castle, Tony watches him like a hawk. Each time Stephen comes back he seems bigger, stronger, just like his army. Tony wants to know his plan. If Stephen is biding his time, building up to an attack or just waiting, poised in the long grass for a perfect moment.
By his careful watching, he is hidden just right to witness Stephen in the library going through old papers and documents. What is he looking for, Tony wonders?
And then the library door opens, and the Prince steps inside. He is just twelve, a kindness in the Kingdom, and it strikes Tony then that he has never spoken really to the Prince, even though he has spent the better part of the past twelve years trying to have him placed as heir.
“Uncle,” Peter beams, rushing across the room to clutch at Stephen and throw his arms around his waist.
Stephen brushes the hair from Peter’s face and looks down at him assessingly. “Is that anyway for a Prince to behave?” He asks.
Tony dares not breathe, but then Stephen’s face does something he almost doesn’t recognise- it smiles. A real smile free of artifice, and Stephen kneels down and pulls a small paper package from his pocket.
Peter squeals, ripping it open. Tony cannot see the detail but it must be a ring of some kind.
“It is the blue of our eyes, Peter.” Stephen murmurs, “you know your history- true members of the Parker bloodline have blue eyes. We’re the only ones in the world to have them. It means you can always tell who is your family. Who you can trust.”
Peter clutches the ring tightly. He looks up at Stephen as though he is the wisest man in the world.
“I have always thought blue eyes were the most beautiful of all.” Stephen says.
“I want to be a Commander like you.” Peter insists, pushing his shoulders back like a warrior. “Take me with you, Uncle, please!”
Stephen laughs, a warm, foreign sound. “You are a fine warrior, a perfect fit for my regiment. But then who would protect your father?”
Peter wilts, but Stephen tucks him into his red cloak, and Tony pulls away, committing all he has learnt to heart. Stephen is playing different games - he has favour with the current King, and he has been working hard to ensure a place in the heart of the only other possible heir.
Tony has overlooked this. He has never spoken to Peter, never tried to win the Prince’s affections, and he can see already the adolescent idolisation Peter has for his Uncle. Wanting to be a Commander indeed, Tony scoffs at the idea.
Even if he manages to have Peter as King, it will do no good to have a King as soft on Stephen as Richard is.
He sets about rectifying it.
***
Once he gets King Richard to agree that marrying Peter to nobility is the best course of action if he cannot be heir, he has reason to teach Peter all the things a young noble should know.
Sometimes his teaching strays into politics, or history, or things more appropriate, perhaps, for a future King, but that is no matter. It gives him time to spend with the young Prince.
Peter is a good student, careful and thoughtful, but his eyes roam over to windows, his hands itch for swords. Tony feels like he can see both Richard and Stephen within the boy, both warring for control.
“Peter, this is important.” He says firmly, smacking the reed onto the pages of latin.
Peter’s blue eyes gaze up at him. “Lord Stark,” he pleads, fourteen years old and begging for freedom from the confines of the archives. “Can that be enough latin for today?”
“It cannot.” Tony insists, thinking of the Kingdom and the future. Committing instead of compromising.
One of the attendants opens the door, and Peter sits bolt upright.
“As it pleases, Prince Parker,” the man announces, “you bid me to till you if Commander Stephen was back in the Capital- there have just been reports of his horse.”
Peter is out of his seat and gone before Tony can utter a word.
He sighs.
***
Though he may not be Peter’s most favourite person, or perhaps even that well tolerated, he remains hopeful. Stephen is gone for longer and longer and Peter is a good student, a hard worker, much more even-tempered and level-headed than Stephen could ever be.
Tony holds out hope that Stephen will die in battle, or that Richard will change his mind, or that Peter will desire the throne (most men do, given time). He works hard and looks out for the Kingdom as best he can, still hoping, still praying.
And then it happens.
There is a shift in the castle. An atmosphere since Stephen’s recent return. Like there is something in the air waiting, trembling with anticipation.
Tony prepares for the worst. Orders the guards to keep a tighter watch on the King, on all the food he eats, on anyone with a red cloak.
He walks the castle late at night, searching for the plot, when he stops short in shadow and watches -
In the vast and empty throne room, there are two figures.
The fire is not lit, there is only moonlight, and Stephen presents a fine gold chain for his nephew.
Peter ducks his head, pleased, and Stephen fastens it around his neck and then-
His fingers do not pull away.
Tony watches, stunned, and Peter looks up in surprise. Blue eyes meet blue eyes and the resemblance is startlingly, beautiful as it is terrible.
Stephen’s large hand slides around Peter’s neck, then up into his hair, fisting there.
Peter gasps, wanton. “Uncle...” he breathes, and Stephen’s eyes grow dark. “Have me. Please.”
Stephen’s control looks as though it hangs by a single thread. “What have I taught you about offering someone exactly what they want?”
“I want it too,” Peter pleads, “I always have.” He pushes his body against the hard armour. “Please, please, please-”
“How can you beg for what is already yours?” Stephen whispers harshly, ruined, and they kiss.
Tony staggers away, breathless at how far Stephen will go to ensure his place.
Wanting to spare Peter the humiliation, he goes to the King and begs his case again, more ardently than ever, that it is Peter who should be heir and Stephen should be stripped of his title.
His plan unravels, King Richard dissolves the plan of noble marriage for Peter and keeps his brother as heir.
Tony is backed into a corner, torn between his loyalty to the King and his loyalty to the Kingdom. He thinks for months on another way, but there is only one solution.
He chooses his loyalty to the Kingdom.
***
He is found, to no one’s surprise, guilty.
His last three days are spent in the prison of a tower he once presided over with only a little light and a little water.
Stephen visits him in the middle of his first night. He looks like the bringer of death in his red cloak (Tony must not be the first criminal to have thought this) the silhouette of darkness, blue eyes bright and clever.
“This is a sight I have long wished for.” Stephen murmurs.
Tony spits at him. “He will tire of you soon and see you for what you are.”
Stephen’s face tells him nothing at all. “I wonder,” Stephen muses, “if Peter will allow me the honour of taking your life.”
***
Peter comes to see him on his final night.
His presence, the sight of his familiar crown, the old wearer of which Tony did love and did respect, brings a flash of hope into his heart.
It is King Peter now, and like it or not, Tony has known him since he was a boy, taught him latin as a teenager, and spent almost twenty years trying to get him to be King.
“Tony.”
“Peter, I-”
“You don’t need to speak.” Peter cuts him off. “You will say you did it for the Kingdom. Men always have their reasons. You were good friends with my father for longer than I was even alive.” Peter’s voice turns cold and broken. “I cannot imagine his heart when you killed him.”
Tony swallows his tears. “I grieve too, Peter. But there are sacrifices to be made for the greater good-”
“My father is not a sacrifice. He was your King. Your friend. And you will die tomorrow in the cold with no one to save you or shed a tear for your demise.”
Tony grips the bars of his cell and lets tears roll down his face.
Peter stares down at him, collects himself, reigns in the darkness like Stephen has never been able to do. “You always taught me more than you should have in our lessons,” he says quietly, “and my studies with you will serve me well in my reign. For that, Tony, I am grateful.”
“I’m sorry.” Tony croaks.
Peter says nothing more, but there’s a flash of a red cloak at the guard’s entrance, and then he leaves.
***
On Tony’s last morning, he staggers out into the blinding sunlight and is overcome suddenly with a realisation.
Though Tony will die today, Stephen Parker will never be King.
It does not matter if Stephen is his executor, Peter’s lover, or commander of ten thousand armies- Stephen is not King.
He never will be.
It’s enough to soften, just a little, the sting of the sword.