Work Text:
“We should get you some more furniture in here, buddy,” Tony stated, his eyes glancing around the room yet his hand never let go of his baby’s. The poor thing had been stuck in bed for far too long in Tony’s opinion, but Peter’s health wasn’t something he could fix with his political power. “A nice bookshelf for all the books we’ll read. A nice desk for you to draw and write. What do you think?”
Peter shrugged, “It’s okay, Mr. Ton- I mean… I mean Dad,” he mumbled. The king tried not to show his grimace. It was a stark contrast from how the boy addressed him as “Daddy” previously. Tony wondered if it was something he did— had he upset the boy? Though, it wasn’t something he could dwell on.
“Nonsense!” Tony exclaimed. “We might as well make this room your own.”
“My own,” Peter repeated.
Tony returned the boy with a soft smile. “Your very own,” he brushed Peter’s messy brown curls away from his eyes. “And you’re allowed to wander within the palace. When you’re feeling better, of course!”
Peter’s eyes widened. He glanced to the door, then back at Tony. “You mean...” he trailed off. He whispered the next part as if it was a revelation, “You’re not gonna lock me in my room?”
“Lock you in your—” Tony stumbled over the sentence. “Why would I-?” but his question was cut short as he recalled what Peter had confided in him.
“I’m used to being locked away.”
Tony embraced his baby boy in his arms. “Nobody’s ever going to lock you away again.”
“Cho said after today, you’ll no longer be on bed rest,” Tony smiled as he searched through Peter’s pile of books. He needed to get actual furniture for his son’s room. It was currently only a bed with Peter’s items scattered around it. He’d finally found the book he was looking for and returned to Peter’s bedside. “What are you going to do tomorrow?”
“I’m gonna do what I usually do,” Peter smiled, a sweet giggle breaking through. “I’m gonna get up and I’m gonna read or draw or color! And then you’ll come to visit sometime and you’ll read with me or play chess with me!”
“That sounds like a great plan, buddy,” Tony encouraged. He didn’t know what the boy went through while in Osborn’s grasp. He needed to be patient. “Would you like to hear what I have planned?”
“Mhm! Yes, sir- Dad.”
There it was again. Tony hoped the boy wasn’t scared of him. He wasn’t Howard and he wasn't Gregory. He tried his best to be a kind leader.
Although Tony had to admit, with Peter Stark’s return, he’d become overprotective. Maybe he should lay off the death threats.
“Well, I’m going to have breakfast with you in the morning. Then, I’d like to show you around the palace. How does that sound?”
“The whole palace?”
“Yeah. What do you think?”
“The royal palace is ginormous Dad!” he exclaimed. “What if my legs fall off?”
Tony laughed, “Your legs aren’t gonna fall off, buddy.” He sat at the foot of the bed. “But if your legs did fall off, I’d simply carry you.”
“Oh!” Peter smiled. “Yeah, okay! That makes sense!”
“Would you like to read today, Peter?” Tony asked as he handed his son the book. Peter opened to the first page and began to speak the words.
Peter was weak from Beck’s execution attempt, but at least he was back on his feet. Still, Tony couldn’t help but want to hold the boy in his arms. He’d missed nine years of his son’s life. For nine years he wasn’t able to cradle his baby. Nine years too many.
As tempting as it was to pick Peter up and rest the boy’s head on his shoulder just like when they went to the garden, the king decided not to. Not only were his arms sore from carrying Peter the previous days, he knew he couldn’t coddle the boy forever.
No, he was going to raise Peter the right way. He’d never treat the boy like Howard treated him nor overindulge him. Peter was going to be the king one day and Tony needed to prepare him for that.
Starting with giving Peter a grand tour of the castle. What kind of father would he be if his son couldn’t find his way around their home?
Tony began with their private living quarters and now was beginning to introduce Peter to places that were a bit more open to the guests and staff.
“Your majesty!” His personal servant, Jarvis, bowed as father and son arrived at the palace’s entrance hall. “I have not seen you in a few weeks, sire. I do hope everything is okay.”
“Everything’s fine, J,” Tony replied. “I want you to meet Peter,” the man smiled, hugging Peter closer to himself.
Jarvis blinked and glanced back at Tony, “Peter as in… your Peter, sire?”
Tony could only beam back. His smile was contagious. “It is very nice to meet you, Prince Peter.”
“ Prince Peter …”
“My name is Jarvis. I am your father’s personal servant. If you ever need help, I will be happy to assist.”
“Th-thank you, Mr. Jarvis,” the boy replied as he hid behind Tony.
He wrapped an arm around Peter as he looked back at Jarvis. “We’re going to be on our way now. I need to show him around,” Tony gave his friend a bitter-sweet smile as Jarvis nodded in understanding. After nine years of distress, despair, and anger at his missing child, Tony shouldn't have to show Peter around. Nor should the prince have to be reintroduced to friends and family. Here he was.
Tony wasn’t a religious man, but he hoped Obadiah Stane and Norman Osborn were rotting away in hell.
“Come along, Pete,” Tony called as he noticed Peter in a trance. “We have a beautiful library I’m sure you’ll love.”
The pair turned the corner. Tony was glad Peter’s introduction to Jarvis went well. It was his son's first social contact since he was nearly executed. Well, social contact that wasn’t Rhodey, Cho, or himself.
Though, as Tony led Peter down the hallway, the boy appeared quieter than before.
What an idiot Tony was! “ Let me show you around the entire goddamn palace! ” he said. “ I’m sure it won’t be overwhelming for a child who’s still recovering from almost being fucking killed! ” he said.
It didn’t take a genius to know that was a bad idea and Tony was a genius. He should’ve made sure his son wasn’t submerged with the new stimulus. He should’ve asked if the boy wanted a break. He should’ve— He should’ve— He should’ve—
“I can hear you thinking from here, Tones,” Rhodey stated. “It’s going to be okay.”
“He ran away!” Tony exclaimed. “Have I been that bad of a father?”
“Of course not!” Rhodey replied. He placed his hands on Tony’s shoulders and gently nudged him into a sitting position. “You’re doing the best you can. This is a unique situation, Tony. Peter has been missing for almost a decade now. Beck’s attempt on his life would be terrifying for anyone, and we don’t know what Osborn put him through.”
“Exactly!” Tony exclaimed. “He’s traumatized. He needs time to recover and I had the bright idea of introducing him to a bunch of people he doesn’t know and showing him around a massive palace. Certainly, it would be overstimulating.”
“Tony.” Rhodey tried to soothe his friend by looking him in the eyes, “You wanted your son to be familiar with his home. That’s all. You weren’t trying to cause Peter any harm.”
“And yet I did anyway–”
“Tones—”
“Pardon me, your majesty,” a new voice entered. Tony and Rhodey looked up to see Lady Pepper Potts. “I’m sorry to interrupt, yet it’s a bit of an emergency. You see, I found a young teen crying in one of the hallways and–”
“Peter?” Tony questioned, hoping.
“Peter?” Pepper repeated confused. “As in… the prince?”
Before Tony or Rhodey could reply, Peter entered behind Pepper. His face was red and blotchy. His eyes were bloodshot. “DADDY!” he yelled, dashing to his father. Tony didn’t hesitate to pick him up and rock the boy in his arms.
“It’s okay baby, it’s okay,” the man cooed. “I’m so sorry, buddy. I know you’re still healing– I didn’t think–” he placed a kiss on Peter’s forehead between words. “I wasn’t thinking how overpowering the environment is. You were scared, weren’t you.”
“All the people were looking at me…” Peter replied. “And I didn’t like when they were staring at me and… and then I didn’t know where I was…” the boy murmured into Tony’s shoulder.
By now, Tony was accustomed to the attention he received as king. He shouldn’t have expected his son to be used to the stares as well. Both good and bad observations could be overwhelming. Especially for a child who had been heavily isolated.
“I’m so sorry, bambino. I was so excited that you’re no longer bedridden, I wasn’t thinking. It’s burdening sometimes, to be in this position.”
Peter glanced up at him, “You mean… as royalty?”
Tony nodded, “Yes, as royalty. But that’s not something for you to worry about right now, okay?” There was no way Peter was ready for the responsibility of being a prince. Tony wasn’t prepared at six years old when Howard forced him and Gregory into public appearances for kingdom relations. Tony wasn’t ready at thirteen when he and his twin were shipped off the boarding school so Howard could have “smarter heirs.” There was no way his abused son was ready to take on the role of prince.
Peter nodded into Tony’s shoulder, “M’kay.” He nuzzled himself in the crook between Tony’s neck and shoulder. It was a struggle for the man not to let out a coo.
Tony was well aware of Pepper’s questioning gaze in his direction. Peter’s return was rumored among his kingdom, but very few citizens knew of its accuracy. It made sense Pepper didn’t know. She was always one to drown out the kingdom’s gossip.
“I’ll fill you in on the details later,” Tony stated. He would in time, Pepper was someone within his closest circle. But for now, his focus was 100% on his son.
Peter still hadn’t admitted to what Norman Osborn had done to him.
Tony’s guarantee the boy wouldn’t have to talk about anything he didn’t want to still stood. Though, he was starting to worry about the boy’s mental state. Tony knew the things Peter endured were horrifying. They had to be, as the boy was waking up in tears more often than not.
Tony was doing the best he could even as his baby refused to confess what was giving such him awful night terrors. There was no venom in the king’s heart as he woke up to the boy sobbing night after night. He wasn’t annoyed more often than not, Peter ended up in his bed. It was evident the child had been through something trauma-inducing.
Tony just wished he knew what.
“What do you think?” Tony asked, glancing around Peter’s room. It started as a barren wooden space. The only piece of furniture inside was a bed with white sheets. Besides that, all the books, writing utensils, and art supplies the king had given Peter while he was incarcerated were scattered about.
Now the room looked a bit more lively. The bed still stood in the center of the room, but now two wooden nightstands rested adjacent to the bed — one on each side. Across from the bed and nightstands, sat a desk and chair prepared for anything the boy might want to write or draw. A bookshelf existed to the right of Peter’s desk where the boy could keep all his favorite novels.
“Thank you, Mr. Tony,” Peter replied, almost devoid of emotion. It scared Tony how the boy had gone from excitedly addressing him as “ Daddy ” to not addressing him as “ Dad ” or even “ Tony .”
Perhaps the boy noticed the castle’s staff addressing him formally and began to repeat it. That was the best hypothesis Tony could come up with for the sudden drift.
“Buddy, you don’t have to address me so regally,” Tony let out a light-hearted chuckle. “What happened to you calling me “ Dad ?’”
Peter shrugged and glanced away. Tony sighed, but let it go for now. This wasn’t something he wanted to start an argument over.
“Maybe we could walk over to the merchants later?” Tony suggested. “We ought to buy you some decorations for the walls. Possibly some more books?”
“We have a library,” Peter questioned.
“I know,” Tony answered. “Sometimes, it’s just nice to have your own books.”
Some ideas were good in theory, but not in practice. Him taking Peter around the palace complex when the boy had barely recovered? Tony had the right intentions, but the castle tour didn’t work out in the end. Taking Peter to the merchants to allow the boy to customize his room? Once again, the king had the right intentions. He didn’t consider the vendors were often crowded. Much too crowded for a heavily isolated child.
Tony didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t this. It wasn’t Peter’s wailing as he shook from the mere thought of being in such a crowded environment. “Can we go home now?” the boy pleaded.
He would give anything to get Peter out of the mass of people roaming around the market. It wasn’t every day the king entered the vendor’s shops and people wanted to see him for themselves. He quickly became overwhelmed by the number of people swarming him and his son.
“I wanna go home!” Peter exclaimed, clinging to Tony’s legs. The man rubbed Peter’s back as he glanced around for an opportunity to escape. One didn’t appear to be coming, however, so Tony decided to resort to his status to get what he wanted.
“I am your king and you will respect me as such!” The leader bellowed. “The next person to invade my personal space or my child’s personal space—” he added, “Will end up with their head on a pike!”
After his lecture, the citizens backed off. “That’s better,” he hummed to himself. “Now, let’s go get some decor for your room, okay Peter?”
No response.
“Peter?” he asked again. Tony looked down to see Peter no longer with him. “ PETER!? ”
“Bud, you have to stop running off like that,” Tony panted, resting his left hand against the wooden building. After about an hour of frantically searching for the boy, Tony finally found him hidden between two stalls. The father wasn’t going to become insanely overprotective of the boy as much as he wanted to. He wasn’t going to keep Peter on a leash, although he was starting to see the appeal.
He thought parenting was hard when Peter was a baby. This was much more difficult.
“I’m sorry!” Peter cried, tears streaming down his face. “I got scared.”
“I know, Pete,” Tony soothed. “I know. Dad’s going to protect you now, okay?” the man tried, kneeling down to Peter’s level. “I know it’s scary being surrounded by so many people after being secluded for years.” He rubbed Peter’s back as he spoke, hoping to provide as much comfort to his son as he could. “And those citizens shouldn’t have crowded us. They were wrong for doing that,” Tony confirmed. “But I’m going to take care of it from now on, okay?” the father asked. “If anyone ever acts like that again, or hurts you, I’ll protect you. There’s no need to run away, okay?”
Peter nodded, arms reaching up to Tony. The father didn’t hesitate to wrap his son in a hug and lift the boy into his arms.
“I’m sorry,” Peter murmured as he nuzzled into Tony’s shoulder. “Are you mad at me?”
Tony kissed Peter’s forehead. “No, baby. I was just scared, that’s all,” he soothed. “I can’t lose you again, bambino.”
“People are scary,” Peter responded.
Tony couldn’t help but give a laugh in reply. “Yeah, people are scary,” he hummed. The next few minutes were spent in a comfortable silence between father and son. Finally, Tony stretched his legs, “Ready to go home, bud?”
Peter shrugged, “Can I have this?” he asked as he pulled a grey, plush cat out of seemingly nowhere.
Tony burst out laughing at the absurdity of it all. “Buddy—,” he started between laughs. “Where did you get a stuffed animal?”
“I think it fell off someone’s stand,” Peter began. “And—” the boy began to tear up, “and he was gonna be so lonely and… and he was gonna get dirty and be cold and—”
“Shhh,” Tony soothed. “Of course, you can have him,” the king smiled. “What kind of king would I be if I allowed a cat to go homeless?”
“His name is Whiskers!” Peter exclaimed.
“That’s a nice name,” Tony smiled.
“Thank you,” Peter replied. “I chose it for him myself!”
“Shh, shh, shh, don’t cry Bubba. It’s okay. You’re okay.” Tony did his best to soothe his son, but the words fell on deaf ears.
The sickness appeared to emerge overnight. When Peter had fallen asleep the previous night, as far as Tony was aware, he was fine. Come two in the morning the king was woken by quiet sobbing. He thought nightmares were plaguing his child’s mind once again. It wasn’t until he brushed Peter’s hair out of his eyes he noticed an abnormal warmth radiating from the boy’s forehead.
“What if I’m dying?” Peter questioned. The boy curled himself into a ball and held Whiskers closer to his chest. “I don’t wanna die!” he screeched, once again breaking into more tears.
If this was any other person – Happy, Rhodey, even Pepper – Tony wouldn’t hesitate to crack a joke. “ Nobody dies from such a minor illness, ” he would exclaim. “ You’re being over dramatic. ”
But this was Peter. Peter, who was kept in solitary confinement for years due to no fault of his. Peter, who was almost executed with a concoction of drugs that would’ve killed just about anyone else.
His Peter.
“You’re not dying, bambino,” Tony comforted, pressing a kiss to the boy’s temple. “It’s a small illness, bud. You’ll recover shortly. Plus, we have the finest doctors in the kingdom here at the castle. They won’t hesitate to give you medical attention should you need it.”
Peter looked hesitant to believe him. But the boy began to dry his tears nonetheless. Tony gave a relieved smile.
Anxious to leave his son, Tony began to speak, “I’m going to make you tea, buddy.” He stood up from Peter’s bed, “Close your eyes, Pete. I’ll be right back.”
Tony didn’t leave the room until the boy’s breathing had evened out.
As the man was about to exit the room, something caught his attention. A leather-bound journal lay open on the ground. Tony concluded Peter was writing in it and dropped it. He was about to pick it up and place it on the boy’s desk when he took a closer look at the page.
How To Be A Good Prince:
Hi! My name is Peter. Prince Peter Stark if you wanna be formal, but just Peter is fine.
I’m writing this to record what I learn. Long story short, I got out of jail to find out I’m actually a prince. Which is amazing, but I feel kind of bad for my dad. He probably thinks I’m a lost cause. How am I supposed to be royalty after being a prisoner all my life? Dad may be nicer, but I think King Gregory was right about me. I deserve to be locked up just for existing.
So, in an effort to be good enough to earn the title of Prince Peter Stark, I’ll try to adapt the royal lifestyle into my own! Starting with… titles I guess? It’s probably not very regal to call King Antonio Stark “Dad.” He said he prefers to go by “Tony” though. Guess it's back to “Mr. Tony” for me.
I’m going to be a good prince! I’m going to prove myself to my da— Mr. Tony. I can do this!
The journal entry left Tony numb. He sighed as he placed the journal on Peter’s desk. What did Peter mean by “King Gregory was right”? What had his brother said to the boy?
And how much did Peter believe?
Peter slept most of the day. Unless he was eating or using the bathroom, he remained in bed.
Tony checked on him at least once every few hours. He offered to play cards if the boy was feeling up to it. He offered to read to the boy. He even offered to simply stay with the boy and keep him company as he recovered.
Peter denied his offer each time. Tony would’ve chalked his refusals up to him exploring his independence. Before he caught a glimpse of Peter’s journal, at least. Each time the teen brushed him off and said he was fine alone, it left Tony uneasy. Does he actually want to be alone? Tony wondered. Or is he scared he’ll seem less “royal-like” if he tells me the truth?
As the sun lowered in the western sky, Peter’s illness spiked. When Tony entered his room to check on him, his eyes were glazed over.
Tony couldn’t help but wince, “You don’t look so good, buddy.” The man pressed the back of his hand to Peter’s forehead, “How are you feeling?”
Peter’s reply was slurred, “I’ll do… better sir,” the boy shook. “I’mma do better…”
Tony grimaced at the statement, “No, no, baby. You’re perfect as you are.”
“I don’t want to get sent away again!” The boy cried. “My daddy sold me! My daddy got rid of me! My daddy didn’t want me anymore!”
“Oh, baby, no,” Tony cooed, pulling Peter up on his lap. “I love you very much, bambino. You were lied to.”
It was what Peter said next that caused the king to recoil. “Please don’t whip me, sir! I don’t know who my daddy is… but he doesn’t care about me.”
Whip? Someone had whipped his baby?
As gently as Tony could, he pulled up Peter’s shirt. The man nearly vomited at the amount of not only whip marks on his son’s back but burns, scratches, and bruises as well.
What kind of monster would…
“He was the only victim not willing to give up information about what had happened. The others came forward, but the kid wouldn’t give up anything.”
Fucking Norman Osborn.
Tony was beginning to piece together the entire puzzle of Peter’s kidnapping and it made him ill. Admittedly, he didn’t have all the details, but the man was starting to fill in the blanks.
Obidiah sold Peter. Gregory recognized the boy and gave him up to Osborn, likely telling the mad scientist Tony would pay a ransom for Peter. But Tony had no idea Peter had been tortured by Osborn for the nine years he was missing. The boy was likely taunted by the thought of his dad coming to save him. Even as Gregory filled his head with such awful lies.
A sick and twisted story. Tony’s life was full of shame, but Peter never deserved to be caught in the crossfire. For that, his brother would pay.
The king remained with Peter until his hallucinations came to a close. He placed a kiss on his son’s cheek before he exited.
Gregory Stark’s arrest warrant had spread across kingdoms before dawn
“I never liked that blonde ass anyway!” Tony exclaimed as he watched the staff remove a family portrait of the Starks.
One month had passed since Gregory’s arrest and subsequent execution. It wasn’t hard to convict his twin of his crimes. Gregory wasn’t popular among his citizens. He also wasn’t popular with his wife, who apparently already had ideas to murder him in his sleep. Tony pretended not to notice her plans, as she was the one who turned Gregory in.
Peter giggled, “You know ass means, donkey, right?”
There was more life to the prince nowadays. Tony had found the extent of Osborn’s abuse and it was… dark, to say the least. He learned his son had been beaten, whipped, starved, over-exhausted, and burned at Osborn’s will. That plus a near-death experience equals a lifetime of trauma.
Tony ruffled Peter’s hair, “Where’d you learn that, smart alec?”
Despite all this, Peter was doing the best he could. Tony made sure Peter was getting the best care for any lasting damage to his psyche. The night terrors Peter suffered from became fewer and further in between.
“In a book!” the boy happily exclaimed.
The king was delighted to see his son living. Really living. Peter was able to read as many books as he desired. He could go to the garden to see the flowers. He learned how to perfect his art skills.
“Of course you did,” Tony replied.
“Does this look good, your majesty?” One of the guards asked. Tony glanced up to see a canvas of Peter’s art. In the center, the first drawing Peter completed when he was still incarcerated.
“It’s perfect!”