Hand of the Heart | S. Rogers x Reader - Royal AU

Ch. 11 - The Final Game

All morning you felt sick with nerves. Today was the day that would determine the trajectory of your life and your kingdom. The entire village and many nobles came to watch, and they were packed tightly in the arena while the last two competitors prepared for the final game.

You couldn't sit still in your seat. Even Eamon was shifting back and forth every so often as you both waited impatiently. Your leg was bouncing, your hands ran up and down your lap, and your eyes darted every which way.

Whoever won, would be your husband and your king. He would have dominion over you, and you would have to bear his child to secure an heir.

You had everything to lose, and everything to gain.

Would it be Steve? The man who treated you as nothing other than a lady the entire time you'd known him. A man who had grown up among royals, but never got the chance to be involved. He had fought in many battles– some against Hydra or their allies– and had prevailed every time. He made you feel special and wanted in a way no way of life or title ever could.

Or would it be Brock? The man who threatened to take your virtue by basic force. His homeland had waged war against your allies many times in the past, and tensions were high between them. He was a prince who grew up with the promise of the throne of his own country. How would he fair with two in the palm of his hand?

After about half an hour of failing to calm your anxiety, you were tired of waiting.

"I'll be right back," you said to your friend as you got up.

"Where are you going?" he asked in sudden alarm.

"Just to powder my nose, I'll be back shortly."

Eamon nodded and you left the shaded platform. Instead of going to the restroom, you snuck behind the back of the arena and made your way to one of the tents that the competitors were getting ready in. Steve's and Brock's were on separate sides, and you went to the left.

You ran your fingers along the patterned fabric of the tent, trying to find the opening. When you did, you sucked a breath in and pulled it aside.

Your eyes locked onto a lone Steve, who was tying a vambrace over his fingerless leather gloves. His head snapped to the side, his eyes connecting with yours.

With a heavy heart, you ran into his arms. The cold metal plates covering his body were a stark contrast to your skin, which was warm from sitting in the heat. His arms caged you in while yours wrapped around his thin waist. His hands, which were so close to bloodshed, tenderly came to hold the middle of your back. You submerged yourself in his pure strength and protection.

The familiar, lingering scent of worn leather filled your nostrils. You had quickly come to associate it with safety and comfort. For a moment neither of you were a knight about to take on a prince or a soon-to-be queen, you were simply a man and a woman. Deeply in love.

Deeply in love.

Steve was everything you've ever wanted in a husband, everything you weren't guaranteed growing up. You were told not to expect your future husband to be gracious towards you. You were told that he most likely would not care for you at all, and would only acknowledge you when it came to his heirs.

But Steve did care for you. His way of commanding the attention of any room and bare handsomeness had given him your regards at first, but then his honeyed words and utter gentleness he possessed in your presence had knowingly wedged their way into your heart.

"I love you," he told you, his baritone voice soft as feathers.

You smiled and put your hand on the side of his face, cradling his head as he nuzzled your palm. "I love you as well."