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Tony was not planning to fall in love.
The plan was for him to be mated with Mister Tiberius Stone, who was a fine alpha. He was the most eligible: tall, burly, with bright blue eyes and a deep voice; half of the omegas Tony knew would be perfectly content to bond with him. His courting gifts were admittedly proper and fitting: embroidered elegant fabric in so many colors, jewelry, delicate omega hair-pieces that were hand-made exclusively in London. He was intelligent and well-read, and had studied in Oxford University of all places, and maybe he did enjoy dismissing Tony’s opinions a little too much, but wasn’t that how all alphas were supposed to be?
No omega was supposed to bother with minor details as such. Tony was certainly not planning to.
The plan was for Tony to be at Stoneville, drinking tea and taking elegant bites of small sandwiches, exchanging pleasantries with Lady Stone, and her beta daughter, like the well-mannered omega that he was supposed to be.
Exactly as Obadiah had wanted.
Father, despite his bad temper and drunken fits, was never too occupied with how omegas should behave. He never cared much about any of that. Tony was always curled up in a chair in a sunlit corner of the library, reading the latest books that had arrived, if not in Father’s workshop tinkering with a broken shaft or a stuck valve. He didn’t mind discussing his work with Tony while designing new tools to improve the farmlands. Mother never approved of Tony’s expensive clothing ruined by unwashable oily stains, but Tony could see her smile behind her glass of dessert wine, every time Father and him were engaged in a discussion on keeping the main water reserve from freezing in the cold winter times.
But not Obadiah.
He made certain Tony would get the education he clearly was lacking, as soon as the mourning period had ended. “A seventeen-year-old omega who knows nothing about being an omega?” That could not have been. Obadiah, overseeing the promptness of Tony’s re-education, put out a call for the best omega tutors in the entire shire.
“He needs more discipline, my Lord,” Mister Zola had said after his first day at Starkdale. “The alpha knowledge in his brain has him at the brink of insanity. I can make him presentable for the next mating season, but I require your permission to incorporate more drastic methods.”
Obadiah had considered the tutor with narrowed eyes for a breath. “I don’t care what methods you incorporate, Mister Zola,” he had then said, tone even, voice cold. “As long as you don’t damage the goods permanently, you have free rein.”
Who cared if the drastic methods meant that Tony was not allowed to read any of his father’s books unless they were about Omegas’ Godly duties? Or that Tony was not allowed to walk past Father’s workshop anymore, let alone touch his tools? Obadiah certainly didn’t. He never asked why Tony had to sit on extra cushions at dinner, for weeks. He never acknowledged the stubborn bruises on Tony’s face that stayed visible for weeks, despite Pepper’s constant icing, warming, and variant potions and balms.
All that mattered was that Tony had finally become a presentable omega, just in time for the mid-summer mating times. That he could sit properly, talk in turn, stay quiet unless spoken to. That he could now successfully run a manor house, and take proper care of all the needs of his future alpha. That he now knew he was just an omega, and nothing more, that he had learnt his place.
All that mattered was that the Stones had taken interest in Starkdale and a betrothal agreement had been signed between Obadiah and Lord Stone.
All as planned.
Perhaps, this was not what Father had intended for him, but that did not really matter. Father was gone, and so was Mother, and their plans for Tony were lost in the dark waves of the Southern Oceans. Just like themselves. All that mattered was Obadiah’s plans and everything was supposed to be going according to them.
Tony was not planning on postponing his visit to Stoneville. If Mister Stone hadn’t fallen terribly ill, sending a messenger in haste just a mere day before Tony’s departure, Tony would not have been around for Obadiah to request his company down the river.
“Perhaps he thinks you’re unhappy about your travel plans being postponed, and wants to get you out to provide—comfort?” Pepper had suggested, pulling hard at the lace strings of Tony’s omega chemise.
Tony had breathed in and held still. Comfort? He hadn’t said, swaying to help Pepper get his camel wool jacket on.
Pepper had smiled, pushing an unruly strand of hair behind his ear before placing Tony’s headpiece. “Don’t forget to ride behind him and his alpha companions, alright?”
And Tony hadn’t.
Tony was not planning to go against what Obadiah had tried so hard to get Tony to do since his parents had died.
He definitely hadn’t planned to fall in love.
And yet, it somehow happened to him.
***
Steve never believed them to be possible.
Stories Ma used to tell him when he was a sickly youngling, how the omega would steal the alpha’s heart, the alpha falling in love madly, desperately, with their souls on fire, willing to do anything, anything to claim the omega. They were not supposed to be real.
Over the years, traveling from shire to shire, getting beaten up in every dark corner of London alleyways, Steve never thought that he would fall in love.
And he certainly had not traveled to Starkdale to work out whether fairy tales could happen to alphas like him.
Bucky had sent him a message in writing, and Steve had read it many times. I miss you terribly, my friend, Steve had imagined Bucky dictating to the chapel clerk, after paying two pennies for the parchment. I’m deeply sorry for the loss of your mother, May her soul rest with God, we all are. But I think it’s time for you to leave London. Come live in Starkdale with Peggy and me. We have enough room in our cottage for an extra bed, and there is plenty of work for you, as Lord Stark’s smart mechanisms don’t require too strong of a body to operate.
Steve had grimaced at that. He did not own a strong body and Bucky knew that far too well. He had stopped falling ill repeatedly after presenting as an alpha, but his muscles never toughened up, and his height never grew. He was, indeed, in dire need of a job he could hold down, and looking at Ma’s empty bed in their small, dark room was beginning to eat at him at night.
That was why he had come to Starkdale. Not because he believed Bucky about Lord Stark being a fair landlord, and not to stay. He just needed to take shelter for a few breaths, to gather up his strength, and save a few shillings before he could finally find his way to the ship that left for Italy every first Thursday of the month.
He wasn’t even supposed to be fishing down the river. No one was. If both Sharon and Sam hadn’t fallen ill, if the sheds were not most empty as they’d ever been, if half of the village were not going hungry every night—Steve had said that he was planning to go to the manor to ask Lord Stane to return some of their aid for this winter. Bucky had looked horrified and Peggy had gasped.
“It’s fishing season,” Steve had suggested instead. “I can help.”
What he had planned was helping feed his people.
He hadn’t planned to fall in love.
And yet, it somehow happened to him.
***
The villagers were fishing down the river.
That was odd, Tony thought. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen anyone fish in Starkdale, as the carp were too hard to catch and too small for the trouble. Father had plans to purchase salmon and trout fingerlings to cultivate in the river before the god-forsaken voyage, which of course Obadiah had no intention to execute.
Tony stopped his horse a few feet behind the alphas, distracted for a breath by a hunter hound running around them.
“The Irish peasants,” Obadiah said, in that contemptuous manner Tony had learnt to loath over the years. “Why am I not surprised? You lot are, of course, too dim to understand that you need permission before exploiting my property.”
Tony shook his head, letting out a breath. He knew the Irish villagers. Most had moved to the village after the Great Famine, except for Mister Barnes, who showed up out of nowhere, stole Peggy’s heart and stayed. They were of course not dim, and the fish—the manor never cared about the fish as far as Tony could remember.
“My lord,” Peggy said from inside the water, her form half in Tony’s view. “The crop was too thin this year. The sheds are left empty after the aid.”
Obadiah considered Peggy for a breath, the surroundings terribly quiet, save for the running water. Even the hound had stopped barking at the riders. “Who’s to blame for the crop? Who is responsible for the crop? I’m dealing with enough trouble with how little your aids are, scramming to beef it up to save you slugs from the Royal wrath.”
“We did all we could, my Lord, everything we knew to stop the pest, we tried.” Mister Barnes said, voice even. “The villagers are hungry, my Lord, the younglings falling ill from weakness.”
“It’s the fish season, my Lord,” Peggy said, taking a step closer to Mister Barnes, the water splashing around her ankles. “Please allow us to take what we have caught—”
“Fall silent, you impeccable whore,” Obadiah bellowed. The dog ran away, out of sight into the woods. “You do as the manor tells you to do. Leave whatever you have caught, and get lost before my eyes.”
Peggy took another step, flushed against Mister Barnes’ side, her face flushed, lips thin. Tony led the horse a little closer on instinct, heart pounding, biting the inside of his cheek to keep silent.
“This is not just, Lord Stane,” came a voice, a silhouette entering Tony’s view. “The manor cannot tell us to die, sir, we—” the alpha said, swallowing, breathing in. “—we need to eat, our young ones, our elderly, we—we deserve a fair ration.”
Tony’s heart quickened. He had never met this alpha, he was certain. He was smaller than alphas usually were, but with that deep, commanding voice, those piercing blue eyes, and how he was standing his ground with Obadiah—Who was this guy?
“Justice?” Obadiah said with a snort. “You think you’re a free man here, talking back, babbling about what I can do? What was your name?”
Mister Barnes looked back to the alpha. “My Lord, please forgive us, Mister Rogers is still getting used to how we do things around here.”
“We’ll leave, now,” Peggy said, reaching to grasp at Mister Rogers’ mostly wet tunic. “Steve? Come along, please, we shall—”
Mister Rogers considered Obadiah with gritted teeth, fire burning deep in his eyes, swaying slowly as Peggy tugged at him, before he finally resigned and followed Mister Barnes to help him gather their gear.
“It’s your lucky day, you little rodent,” Obadiah called after them, as they exited the water and loaded their wagon. “I wouldn’t be so generous with you if—come closer Anthony—if we were not in the company of a noble omega.” Tony clicked his tongue and squeezed his feet on the horse’s calves. “Here, Anthony, my dear,” Obadiah continued, tone too warm for the occasion. “I want you to accompany Mister Stone down here on his next visit. He is planning to reroute the water to the east, to build a new water mill.”
He continued on, explaining Mister Stone’s glorious plans. Tony listened, nodding with a tight smile, glancing at the villagers at the end of the road, heads bowed, buckets of fish left by the edge of the water. Tears welled up behind his eyelids when Obadiah ordered the guard to throw the fish back into the water. The cart was nowhere to be seen down the road; at least they wouldn’t see all the dead fish floating on the surface.
Tony did.
It was all that was on his mind, riding back to the mansion; all he could think about with a turning stomach as he played with his food at the dinner table. He tossed and turned in his bed, thinking of the hungry villagers, and had troubled dreams when he finally fell asleep, drowning in a dark river filled with dead fish.
***
“Will Peggy be back soon?”
“I—I’m not sure, my apologies, Omega Stark—”
“Oh, please, no formalities. I’m not here for any of that. Just Tony.”
“Sure. Of course—Tony. Well, yes, I mean—no. I do not know when they’ll be back, because—”
Steve looked around.
The room was dimly lit with the midday winter sun. It was cold, the fire of the stove barely in flames. How long had he slept? Perhaps he was not as quiet as he had thought, tossing and turning in the sheets, too troubled to fall asleep. He went over to the stove to add more logs and relight the fire, almost stepping on Ceartas who was still sound asleep, after the loud knocks that woken Steve, after Omega Stark—well, just Tony, stepped inside. Poor bastard, Steve thought fondly. He probably had trouble falling asleep as well.
“I don’t know where they are,” he said, poking the ashes with the fire iron. "Perhaps trying to hunt for hares up the hill. It’s hard to find them this time of year, but sometimes we catch enough for a couple of meals.” He turned and laid his back against the wall by the fireplace. The omega was perched on the edge of the bigger bed Peggy and Bucky slept on, looking at utmost odd with the surroundings.
Why did Steve ask him to come in? Why oh why did he agree?
“I—” the omega said, reaching to fiddle with his headpiece. “I’m sorry about all the meal problems. That’s what I wanted to talk to Peggy about, because—well—we were very close before—uh. Do you know what the deal is with the pest? We never had crop pest, never until—”
Something boiled in Steve’s veins; blood roaring to his ears, burning his face. “I do know what the deal is, but there's no point in explaining them if you’ve already decided to blame us anyway.”
“I—no I’m not here to blame you, or anyone, Mister Rogers, I’m only—I just want to know what happened. We never had shortage issues even during the Great Famine. Not when my father was alive, we never had pests difficult enough to thin the crop. I just—I need to know.”
Tony’s face was twisted as if Steve had launched an arrow right into his heart. As if he cared, Steve thought cautiously. As if they had the ability to care. Steve would be damned. “Why?”
“Because,” Tony smiled, thin, “this is on me. I got—preoccupied with my own—no. Not of importance.” He took a breath, wringing his fingers. “Yesterday, when you—Lord Stane is not known for his kindness or compassion but he is particularly unfavorable to those who—well. You stood up to him.”
“Uh—” Steve felt the rush of blood to his cheeks. “I can do that all day.”
“You’re brave,” Tony said, face lighting up. “I wish I could be like that.” He tilted his head, gazing up at Steve. Something sweet was in the air, warm and subtle, and Steve could not help but breathe in. “If Peggy and Mister Barnes are up the hill, how long will it be until they come back?”
“Before—” Steve tried, throat suddenly parched. “Before the dusk falls, perhaps?”
Tony stood up. “Would you be kind enough to show me, Mister Rogers?”
“What do you want to see? The broken dam? The cracked pipes? The blunt tools we can’t afford to repair?”
Ceartas raised his head and barked weakly at Steve.
“Come here, good lad,” Tony said as he sat on his knees, holding his palm out. Ceartas looked back at Steve and then to Tony, before he stood up and made his way lazily to the omega. “Did Mister Rogers wake you?” he said, scratching behind Ceartas ears, as the silly dog licked his palm. “Aren’t you supposed to be hunting with Peggy?”
“Me or Ceartas?” Steve asked, laughing despite himself.
Tony looked up, still laughing as he was playing with Ceartas a breath ago. “Either.”
“Ceartas is a hunter hound but he never learnt to hunt. He will be more trouble than assistance.” Steve paused, grimacing. “I guess the same could be said about me.”
Tony stood up, his smile crinkling the corner of his eyes. “Lord Stane is out of the manor on important business, unlikely to show up when you’re attempting to hunt for hares. However, I can imagine that Mister Barnes was not impressed with you after the events down the river.”
Steve opened his arms pointing around the room. “He left me behind. That should tell you how pissed he—oh. Apologies for the language.”
“Oh, please, I said no formalities. I’m not that much of a proper omega myself.” He took a breath, lips pressed determinedly. “I’m sorry they left you behind, but I would appreciate it if you could show me…well,everything?”
Steve had no trust for the noble people, long before attending the Invaders secret gatherings in London, or reading any hand-written copies of the New Learning books. He never believed he was lesser than the dukes and the viscounts and the earls; he hadn’t met a noble person he hadn’t hated with a passion.
He was not planning to make an exception for Omega Stark.
But he had to be courteous, enough to comply with a polite request, so he dutifully walked Tony through the muddy roads down to the farmlands. He showed him the part of the dam that had broken down, leaving a gap that flooded the land every other week. He opened the doors to the sheds filled with unusable tools, and waited patiently for Tony to clatter around examining his way through them.
He didn’t allow himself to think of it much, how he could hear Tony sniffling when they passed the barren western lands. Maybe the chill had gotten to him. He didn’t have a warmer tunic to offer a cold omega anyway.
He watched Tony ride up the road, long before Peggy and Bucky’s return, and did not agree with Peggy, who believed Tony could work miracles to help them.
Then, the next morning, just after dawn, there was another knock on the door. This time Ceartas woke from his slumber and ran to the door, jumping up to lick at Tony’s face as he walked in.
Steve sat up, ran a hand in his hair, and watched Tony drag a fabric bag almost as big as himself inside the cottage as Peggy ran to wrap her arms around his frame.
It was not a dream.
He had indeed come back to help.
The bag was full of tools and contraptions Tony had stolen from his father’s workshop. He had also brought the dam schematics that he laid on the wooden table, busying himself with drawing new plans for the dam repair, like it was no trouble at all. He wanted to fix it all by himself, but the villagers, of course, all stepped in and took to work. Maintaining the integrity of the new fixture with the old parts proved to be partly difficult but it took Tony no time to come up with a brilliant solution to slightly adjust the curve of the joints.
He walked among the people like he belonged with them. He talked to May, regretful that he hadn’t visited them in a while and had laughed like Steve never heard before when he saw how Peter had grown into a little man. He sat with Yinsen, and listened, bemused, as Yinsen explained enthusiastically to the whole village how the axle Tony had once repaired when he was fourteen, was still going strong at the village mill.
“You repaired mills when you were fourteen?” Steve asked, unable to keep the admiration off of his voice. “I was sick the whole year. And the year before. And after.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Tony swallowed, the dimness of the cloudy sky doing little to conceal his blushing cheeks. “Hard to imagine you being anything but authoritative and stubborn,” he added with a boyish joy sparkling in his eyes, before ducking his head and striding to walk past.
“I’m not stubborn,” Steve said, pitch slightly raised. “Or authoritative.”
“Of course not, my friend,” Bucky said, turning over his shoulders, as he had caught up to Tony and Peggy, leaving Steve behind. “Whatever helps you sleep better at night.”
Laughter filled the air as Sharon and Sam joined them. Steve laughed too. It was a thrilling kind of comradery with the noble omega of the manor that Steve had never thought he would feel. Like going to a different kind of war, with people you care about the most, even if they all had spades and shovels for weapons—sharpened and waxed, of course, nothing broken or unusable left in the sheds.
It was like a dream Steve thought, as Tony laid on his back to examine the damage in the main irrigation pipe up the land. “That’s genius, Tony, well done, so simple,” Steve said hovering, before urging the others to unlatch the opposite side. “There—higher, excellent, Tony—brilliant.”
Now, Steve really had not planned to fall in love.
But he never thought he’d meet an omega like Anthony of Stark.
It was late afternoon. Yinsen had departed, his frail hands too tired to hammer further for the day, leaving them to their own devices at the blacksmith’s, which now served as Tony’s make-shift workshop.
“It was pure luck, Obadiah leaving for Mount Stane post-haste. I don’t imagine I could have achieved much, if it weren’t for Jarvis’ assistance, or Pepper’s–heavens bless her–who doesn’t question why I need to visit Peggy every day, or the reason why I return covered in mud and grime every single night.”
Steve stopped fiddling with the rake and looked up. Tony was watching him, with a soft sort of gaze that made Steve’s heart flutter. “I don’t appreciate you underselling yourself, Tony, please. You did so much. You helped a great deal.”
“It’s all my fault,” Tony said, lips turning upward into a melancholic smile. “All of this, all the trouble of the people—just because I was—I was a coward,” he added, his smile fading as he looked down.
“You are not a coward,” Steve said. “Tony, please look at me,” he paused, waiting quietly as Tony ran his palm over his face, and looked up. “You are here, you are helping, you are fixing the broken. Do not beat yourself up.”
“If I didn’t get so caught up in the misery of my training, so anxious about the number of the lashes my tutor was going to punish me with—”
“Lashes?” Steve set the rake on the bench and stepped forward, a rage coiling in his chest suddenly, hot and bitter. “Good heavens, your tutor whipped you?”
Tony looked up at Steve, shaking his head. “It’s not of importance, just—”
“He did?”
“Yes, he—he did. He thought it’d—they both did. I was untrained and alpha-like, utterly unpresentable for mating,” he bit out, voice shaking as he tried to mock his tutor’s voice. “I needed a firm hand.”
“Stane—I admittedly am not affectionate toward that man, but now—” Steve groaned. “And after your parents—Isn’t it his utmost responsibility to protect you above all else?”
“Oh, he was protecting me,” Tony chuckled bitterly. “From bringing shame to Stark’s honor, and taking the manor down with me. It was all for me, and the people.”
“I’m sorry,” Steve swallowed, willing the blinding rage to settle in his veins, his breaths to slow. “You deserved better.”
“Did I?” Tony shook his head. “I should have stood up to him. I would have at least known. I would have known how he’s treating the people. Yes, I’m an omega, I can’t inherit the land before I’m mated. But that doesn’t change anything. I’m still responsible.”
Steve stepped aside from the bench and toward Tony. “But don’t you see, that is the issue, any system where a group of people’s survival revolves around one how fair one person is. That’s what happened when your father, who people believed was a decent lord passed, only for Stane to take his place. The power is the problem, Tony. That’s not on you. None of this is on you. This is an integral problem of all manors.”
Tony set the spanner down, leaning his side against the bench. “New Learning beliefs of returning the power to the masses? Believe me, I wholeheartedly agree. Nothing makes one group more deserving than the others.”
Steve’s head was in spin. “You have read the Power of People?”
“Yes. And Athens Government Theory, and the Invaders Manifesto. I—”
“You know about the Invaders?” Steve asked, heart feeling peculiar at the thought. “I…I’ve been to some of their protests.”
“God, Steve,” Tony’s eyes widened. “You really are brave, aren’t you?”
“Uh—” Steve stammered. “I just—I’m stubborn and authoritative.” He smiled, lop-sided, enjoying the pink that colored Tony’s cheeks, the way he threw his head back, the ring of his laughter, the sweetest of sounds. “And I hate bullies, so terribly.”
“That, I have gathered,” Tony said, still smiling, face light and bright. “I wish I could stand up to bullies like you. I wish—I wish I had done better.”
“Listen to me, you,” Steve said, deeper than he had intended. “You are doing fabulously.” He was so close, not sure at what point he’d walked all the way around the bench, now standing in front of Tony. “You are—” he reached out, wiping a grease stain off of Tony’s face “—there. Absolutely perfect.”
***
The cracking of thunder snapped Tony out of his stupor. “I—” he stepped back, devastated, the Omega inside pouncing miserably at him. “I have to leave, I— it’s very late.”
Steve’s hand stayed in the air for a breath, his dark gaze unwavering. “Of course,” he said, hoarse, finally dropping his hand. “Of course. You—late. Yes.”
It took them both a few moments more to gather themselves enough to move away from each other. Magnetic forces, Tony’s mind dutifully provided as he turned around to find his coat, and put on his hat, as if he was being pulled back right where he was not supposed to be.
He was a betrothed omega for heaven’s sake.
He was not supposed to want this more than he wanted to be alive.
“I’ll get my horse to ride with you,” Steve blurted, turning on his heels to find his own coat. “To the ditches only. It’s—it’s already pouring.”
The road was stretching before them. Or sinking, as far as Tony could tell, with how hard it was for their horses to gallop through the mud.
They’d been riding for what felt like hours and by the position of the mountains, lit from time to time by the lightning, the mansion was far ahead. Thoughts were bouncing in Tony’s head, his stomach in a thousand tight knots. His clothes were drenched. He was cold, teeth clattering, toes frozen. The rain was getting heavier by the breath, pouring down as if the oceans were falling down the sky.
“You will catch the winter fever before we get to the mansion,” Steve shouted over the wind roaring through the trees, whipping the branches together.
“You too,” Tony shouted back. “We can’t go back, the road down to the village is certainly flooded now.”
“Follow me,” Steve ordered, pulling the reins of his horse, turning around toward a narrow side road.
“What—where are you going?” Tony called after him, but even he couldn’t hear himself.
The road was uphill, partially sheltered by tall trees, hence not as muddled as the main road. They rode for a short time before a stable appeared at the edge. Of course, Tony thought, the summer stable. As Steve secured the horses inside, Tony fetched his flint and striker from the pocket of his soaking tunic. Steve stared at him for a breath, a questioning quiet gaze, before reaching for his hand and tugging him out of the door.
“We don’t need to build a fire inside the stable,” he yelled over the rain, dragging Tony around the stable, guiding him to the back. He pushed on a small door, opening it and stepping inside, Tony following behind as the door slammed close with the raging wind, the rain immediately dulling behind the worn wooden frame.
Tony couldn't see much. He listened to Steve shuffle around in the dark, clattering and clinking, before sparks started to fly from a few feet away, and soon a fire lit up in a small fireplace.
“I never knew there was a shelter back here.” Tony mused, looking around.
Steve warmed his hands by the fire, rubbing his palms together as he turned to Tony, shrugging. “I sleep here sometimes during the riding competitions. It’s closer to the field, and it’s next to the horses.” He turned to fire to warm his hands once more, before busying himself with a large chest in the corner.
Tony stepped closer to the fire. He removed his dripping coat and hung it on the back of a chair. The warmth radiating from the fireplace was pleasant, but with layer upon layer of soaked clothes, it was not much help with how cold Tony felt down to his bone.
Steve came back and spread a sheepskin rug by the fire. He then removed his coat, reached for the hem of his tunic to pull it over his head, but he froze in place at the sight of Tony, standing awkwardly by the fire. His face twisted into a pained expression, as if shot by something.
“Tony,” he said, voice low. “Do you think commoner alphas are constantly out to prey on noble omegas?”
“No—!” Tony stammered, “Steve, of course not—what?”
“Hey, I understand. You’re—” he gestured vaguely toward Tony “—you, and I’m—” he ran a hand down his front, the wet tunic clinging to his chest “—well, me. You don’t want me to—and I understand. You—you smelled sweet and welcoming back at the shop, and I—well. I assumed. But you—you—I got the message. I’ll never force you, or hurt you, Tony. You don’t need to be afraid of me.”
“What—Steve, it’s not that way, I’m not afraid of you, please—”
“That so?” Steve asked stiffly. “Then may I cordially ask why are you standing there, trembling in your damn soaked clothes?”
Tony looked down at himself, and back up at Steve. “Uh—” he tried, shame coiling hot in his gut. “Well—”
Steve was watching Tony with narrowed eyes, head tilted to the side, arms crossed over his slight chest. His figure was flickering in the warm glow of fire, his face lightly coloured from the heat. “Well?”
“This is utterly embarrassing, but—” Tony let out a breath, resigned. “I don’t know how to take my clothes off.”
Steve didn’t move for a breath, frozen in place. He didn’t even blink, the intensity of his unyielding gaze blazing in the dim light of the fire. “So you—” he straightened up, shoulders loosening “—would want me to—” he came closer, holding Tony’s gaze “—help?”
Something melted inside Tony’s and flew through his limbs. A knot he didn’t know existed came undone with Steve’s earnest offer to help. How he waited, patiently, until Tony nodded his assent.
“I’ll do my best not to tear or break anything,” he said, looking down, his fingers diligently at work undoing buttons, clips, clasps, and all sorts of fastenings that were apparently necessary for omega tunics. “I think that’s it,” he finally said, looking back up at Tony with a smile. “May I?” he asked before reaching over Tony’s shoulders to help Tony out of the tunic. Tony swayed in place, as Steve pulled the wet tunic off, and tried hard to even his breathing in the span of the time it took for Steve to spread out the tunic and come back.
“Now this looks even trickier,” he said from behind Tony, fiddling with the strings of Tony omega chemise. “How many knots do each of these have,” he asked, his breath hot on the back of Tony’s neck. His fingers worked gently, slowly pulling the maze of fastened strings apart. Every brush of Steve’s fingertips was sparks running down Tony’s spine. The warmth of Steve’s presence at Tony’s back a test in forbearance.
Tony had always wondered if he was immune to the alpha effect.
He could never feel the way other omegas seemed to do in proximity to an alpha, the rush, the urge, the tingle low in the belly when the room was filled with alpha scent. The alpha scent, musky and heavy in the air would even make Tony dizzy and nauseated.
“What about Mister Stone? He smells like the finest wines with a hint of clove,” Darcy had asked him once.
“He does?” Tony had shrugged. “I hadn’t noticed.”
Natasha had chuckled, making Carol groan, pulling at her hair as she was fixing her braid. “Maybe Darcy should bond with Mister Stone.”
Darcy had turned crimson down to her neck, rolling her eyes at all of them laughing out loud. Tony had mulled the idea, shrugging again. “Fine by me.”
That night, Tony had lain in bed, thinking about all that. Resigned, he decided that perhaps he was not a proper omega after all, as Obadiah and his tutor kept reminding him at every opportunity. This would all be parts of the same problem. He had decided that he didn’t care. That it was all better this way.
But right now, in this dimly-lit shelter behind the stables, as Steve finally peeled the back of Tony’s damp omega chemise—Steve’s scent was all that mattered. The blending aromas of lavender, and rain, and freshly cut grass, the serenity of the woods in spring, the smell of the running river in a lazy summer afternoon; that was all that existed.
Steve breathed in sharply, and let go of the garment. Tony looked down, at the fabric pooling around his ankles. Heat curled in his belly and burned low, goosebumps breaking over the bare skin of his arms.
“Tony,” Steve said, voice lower than Tony had ever heard. “You—are you—I can smell you—”
Tony was trembling in his undergarment. He could feel the stirring down low in his belly, the omega inside taking over, slick soaking the front of his dress.
There was no hiding this.
He turned slowly, and heavens, was Steve a sight in the light of the fire; flushed from the back of his ears all the way down to his chest, eyes dark, lips half-parted, breathing hard.
“God, Tony, you are so beautiful,” Steve whispered, fingers sliding through Tony’s hair, pushing it away from his forehead. “I—” He dipped his head, lips a mere inch away from Tony’s. “What are you doing to me? If you don’t want me back, why are you—is this a trial?”
“Steve—” Tony said, but it sounded a lot like a whimper. “This is my trial.” He closed his eyes and let his head fall on Steve’s shoulder. Steve wrapped an arm around his waist, safe, a grounding weight around his middle. “I want you,” Tony said against Steve’s shoulder, “with my whole heart, but—”
Steve’s arm tightened around Tony, their bodies flushed against each other. “I want you too. With my whole heart. You’re the most exquisite, magnificent being, and I’m willing to do anything, anything to—”
“But I’m none of that, Steve!” Tony pulled back, shaking his head. “There’s been a carefully crafted plan for how I am supposed to serve the manor, the people. I’m betrothed to another, Steve, it’s all decided, all arranged—”
“Do you—” The reflection of fire was dancing in Steve’s bright eyes. “Do you want him?”
Tony laughed miserably. “No, I don’t. It’s just—all part of the plan. I am part of that plan.”
Steve’s fingers ran in Tony's hair, pulling him in until their foreheads touched. “If you'd be willing, my love,” he said, lips brushing against Tony’s, “you and I—we’ll make new plans.”
Hope ran through Tony’s core, fire raining through his veins. “Yes.” He pressed his lips to Steve’s, gently, slowly. “I’d love that.”
Nothing had gone according to their plan.
Obadiah was fuming when Tony arrived at the mansion.
“You filthy little whore,” he had gritted out repeatedly, his strikes raining down hands and feet with no regard to where they landed.
In a matter of moments, Tony was huddled in the corner of his room, curled into himself in a broken pile, willing his breaths to come out in full, his damn tears to stop running down his stinging cheeks. He had a split lip, the blood salty on his tongue with one eye he was unable to open, and a sharp pain cut through his chest with every breath.
“Soak this nasty bitch in the bath, to wash off the alpha stench,” he ordered the terrified maids. “I came back in haste to break you from whatever stupid escapade you had going on with the villagers, but I see that you’ve turned into a harlot in my absence.
“He stays in this room,” he barked at the guards arriving one by one. “Pepper stays with him. Nothing enters or exits this door without my permission.”
Tony closed his eyes, and groaned in pain as he made an effort to hold his back against the wall. There were footsteps near and far, things clattering and scratching, but Tony couldn’t bring himself to care.
“I’ll deal with you first, you ungrateful, knot-hungry bitch.” Something cold and solid struck his side, pain blinding, slicing through Tony’s body like a hot blade. “I’m gonna keep your tiny rodent in jail, until you’re off my hand in Stoneville, getting knotted until you’re full of pups, then I’ll get to him. I’ll peel his skin off alive. I’ll send you an ear or a finger to keep as a souvenir.”
Tony's stomach churned, bile bitter in the back of his throat.
Soft fingers curled around his, and Tony breathed in Pepper’s scent. At least she was here, he thought, before the darkness took over.
Tony woke in his bed, dizzy, weaker than he had ever been.
“You’re awake, my dear?” Pepper asked, holding a steaming glass to his nose. “Breathe in, Tony. Good lad. Now, one more.” and Tony did, not that he thought breathing in any of Pepper’s potions could solve one issue of his. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I’m dead,” Tony said, between small sips of the potion. “I wish I were dead. He is going to hurt Steve, and I will have to live my life knowing that it's all my fault. That I sent him to the gallows, that my selfishness led him to his death.” Something squeezed painfully in Tony’s chest and, damn, stupid tears ran down again.
“No one’s going to die,” Pepper said, gesturing for Tony to take another sip. “I sent a message to the Barnes cottage, as soon as Lord Stane arrived at the mansion unannounced.”
Tony opened his mouth in exclamation but choked on the hot liquid and started to cough. “Wha—” he tried through a fit of coughs, tears running down, heart pounding. “what—Pep—” he tried again, as Pepper rubbed his back, and his chest.
“Easy, my dearest, Tony, easy. Breathe,” Pepper stressed until Tony’s breathing calmed. “I knew something was up, of course I did. And so did someone else, Mister Hammer, perhaps, long enough to tattle to Lord Stane. The Barnes must have gotten my message soon enough. He’ll run if he’s smart.”
“He is smart, Pepper, incredibly so,” Tony said, sniffling. “But won’t run away, Pep, I’m certain of it. I wish he would, but he won’t.” Tony then reached for Pepper’s hand. “Just keep an eye out for him... please,” Tony said, holding his face in his palms.
“Of course, Tony, certainly.” Pepper removed Tony’s hands from his face and smiled. “Now hold this ice to your eye, and tell me everything.”
No one heard from Steve in the following days. Jarvis and the rest of the staff kept Pepper informed against Obadiah’s direct orders but neither Pepper nor Tony dared to push their luck further and leave the room.
The manor’s tailor finished fitting Tony’s bonding tunic, just in time, as they got news of Mister Stone’s arrival for the bonding ceremony the next day. According to Pepper, the Stones’ were told that Obadiah needed to leave again for Mount Stane and for a longer period this time, so they were seemingly unsuspicious of the real reason for the bonding ceremony’s expedition.
Tony went through the motions, swaying like a twig in a storm. He didn’t have more tears to shed, only partially consoled by Pepper’s reasoning that Steve was not going to get caught if he hadn’t already; that he was now safe and sound in London or even further away.
Tony knew that Steve was not safe and sound; not in London, not further out.
Pepper was tasked with dressing Tony in his ceremonial tunic. Mister Stone had been told that he couldn’t see his future omega before the ceremony; following tradition to avoid bad luck. But Tony knew that Obadiah was wary of Tony saying something to him in hopes of sabotaging their betrothal deal. He looked at himself in the full-length mirror: the yellow bruises stubbornly showing despite all of Pepper’s efforts at concealing them. He otherwise looked presentable, as much as a broken omega desperately in love with another alpha could have been for his bonding ceremony.
This was the plan after all.
Obadiah’s plan.
It was all coming together.
Tony felt like he was going to throw up. He couldn’t go through with this. He couldn’t walk out of this room and into that chapel—
“What, who let you in? Bad hound, get out, ah—”
Tony turned on his heels. That could not have been. Ceartas was jumping up at him, licking at Tony like the mad hound he was, and Tony had never been happier to see a creature in the world.
“Close the door, Pepper, now,” he ordered, bending down to pick the dog up and give him a gentle squeeze, fresh tears he didn’t know he still had welling up in his eyes. “How did you get in here, you silly hound?” Tony said, sitting on the edge of bed, letting Ceartas down to scratch behind his ears.
“Is this—” Pepper asked cautiously, locking the door and removing the keys.
“Steve’s hunter hound who doesn’t know how to hunt,” Tony said fondly, not taking his eyes off Ceartas. “Why are you here, good lad—oh!”
Tony was not dreaming.
There was a piece of paper bound to Ceartas' collar, tucked underneath, so Tony hadn’t seen it right away. He pulled it out carefully, heart pounding, breath catching as he held it up to Pepper with a shaky hand.
Pepper’s eyes widened, and she held a hand to her mouth, muffling her exclamation. She slipped next to Tony, and held Tony’s hand in hers, until Tony was grounded enough to unfold the paper and read out loud.
***
It felt sort of stupid to be this dressed up, considering the circumstances.
“I should have gone to the ditches, Bucky, why am I here?” Steve asked for what felt like the hundredth time.
“You are in hiding, my fearless friend,” Bucky replied, the same answer he had the previous times.
“My heart is about to break free of my rib cage, Buck, I can’t sit and wait anymore.”
“And that’s the reason why I am here to make sure that you do. Now, sit on that large flat rock, and do not move. You need your energy for better things tonight," Bucky said, grinning, ushering Steve toward the large flat rock.
How could he be in such high spirits? A thousand butterflies were dancing in Steve’s chest.
What if his plan hadn’t worked out? What if Tony had never gotten the note, and never knew Steve was anticipating him? What if he had gotten caught before getting out of the manor, what if he was detained under stricter circumstances or worse was already bonded and en-route Stoneville?
Steve stood up, and started to pace.
What if Tony had changed his mind, decided to go through with Obadiah plan, what if—no. Heavens. That was not a possibility.
But something must have happened. They should have arrived hours ago. Steve could not wait another breath, he had to—
He stopped to listen. He could hear vague noises from behind the bush, getting louder than the wind. People, horses, carts; Ceartas barking out loud. Steve’s heart was beating in his throat, his palms sweaty and cold. Was Tony really—
He was.
Steve could see him on the back of Sam’s wagon, as soon as it showed from the bend of the road. An omega Steve hadn’t met climbed down the wagon smoothly, and held her hand to Tony, Peggy and Sharon rushing to help with his ceremonial tunic.
He was breathtaking. Clad in white lace, embroidered with jewels that sparkled like a cascading waterfall, he looked like an angel from heaven itself.
And he was coming to Steve.
He was finally here.
The villagers walked down the narrow path with Tony in the middle. Steve ran ahead and wrapped his arms around Tony’s shoulders, and pulled him in, eyes stinging, throat tight. “You came.”
“Of course I did,” Tony’s hands were tangled into Steve’s tunic. “You sent the whole village after me.”
Steve pulled back. “They wanted to go themselves.” He touched Tony’s face, traced the line of his jaw, ran his fingers through Tony’s stubble. “And you came.”
Bucky tapped on Steve’s shoulder. “Forgive my interruption, but there is still a lot to go through.”
Steve eased his hold on Tony reluctantly, but didn’t let go. He would never let go, never again.
“How did you get a priest that would go against a manor church?” Tony asked incredulously, as Steve led him to the platform Yinsen had insisted on building from the early hours of the morning. Steve stepped up, and helped Tony up as well. Good thing that Yinsen had more faith in Steve’s plan that he himself did.
“Invaders,” Steve whispered in Tony’s ear, inhaling Tony’s scent as subtly as he could. “Some priests believe in the masses.”
“That’s amazing, Steve.” Tony turned to look Steve in the eye, awed, squeezing Steve’s fingers in his, “You’re amazing.”
People gathered around the altar. It was quiet, save for the running water, purring down before their feet. The wind was slow, few dry leaves dancing in the air.
Peter ran forward quietly, tugging at Tony’s tunic, and handed him a bunch of primroses. “I looked through the whole meadow,” he said proudly, with a little lisp. Tony bent down to kiss his little head.
“I hope you’re not bothered,” Steve murmured to him. “I know you didn’t tell me, but I—”
“I’m about to be bonded to you against my steward’s will. I think I’m sort of past being bothered about my flowers.”
“So—I got it right?” Steve asked hopefully.
“How can you not be confident, Steve?” Tony teased lightly. “You sure, scented me long enough that night.” Then he smiled softly, “Thank you.”
The clouds moved, giving way to some winter light. There was a faint, yellowing bruise on Tony’s jaw, glaring at Steve. Steve had to bite the inside of his cheek not to mention a thing, had to hold his fist into a ball, not to reach for it.
“We are gathered together, here in the sight of God, to join together this alpha and this omega in holy Matrimony. Who should witness that both alpha and omega are of mating age?”
“I do,” Bucky said.
“I do,” Peggy followed.
“I do,” Sam and Sharon said in unison, with Tony’s omega companion—Pepper. Everyone bore witness one by one, in groups, like it was music, uncoordinated, beautifully spontaneous.
Tony turned over his shoulder, like if he needed to see for himself to believe.
Steve turned too. Moving to Starkdale, he hadn’t planned on the people to become his people. He had always planned to help, be of service. But to have people who jeopardize themselves for him? He hadn’t thought that would be possible.
“At which day of Marriage,” the priest continued, “if anyone has reason why they may not be coupled together in Matrimony, by God's Law, or the Laws of the Realm, shall declare their impediment now, or forever keep their peace.”
No one of course said a thing. Even Ceartas, who had found his way to their feet, was dutifully silent.
“Steven Grant Rogers, will you have this omega to be your bonded mate? Will you love him, comfort him, honor him, and keep him, in sickness and in health; and forsake all others, saving yourself only for him, so long as you both shall live?”
Steve looked at Tony, tears welling up. Tony nodded, his smile calm and soothing, and Steve felt like he could fight a dragon if it came to it. “I do.”
Ceartas barked, and Peter laughed out. May pulled Peter back, and Ceartas followed them, with his tail between his legs. Tony reached out as they passed by, caressing Peter’s back, scratching Ceartas’ head.
“Anthony Edward Stark, will you have this alpha to be your bonded mate? Will you obey him, and serve him, love, honor, and keep him, in sickness and in health and forsake all others, saving yourself only for him, so long as you both shall live?”
Tony pressed his lips together, determined and defiant, tears shining in the bright hazel of his eyes. “I do.”
“Before God, and this company I pronounce the alpha and the omega bonded.” the priest said, looking ahead. Then he stepped closer to place his palm over their joined hands. “Those whom God has joined together let no man put apart.”
The villagers rejoiced. Happy chanting filled the air. Peter ran forward and hung onto Tony's tunic, Ceartas running in circles around them. Bucky was dancing Ceili, humming a familiar tune, Peggy trying to follow the steps, failing as always and laughing out loud.
Steve tugged on Tony’s hand, joining the villagers in dance and cheer. Tony didn’t know the steps to Ceili, but he, of course, was quick to learn. Steve stopped in the middle of a turn, pulled Tony in and held him close. “Mine,” he whispered in Tony’s ear, kissing his lips, his hair, his beautiful sparkly eyes.
“Yours.” Tony wrapped both arms around him, lips hot on the skin of Steve’s neck. “I’m all yours.”
The priest rode with them back to the mansion and so did every other villager. When the crowd entered the yard Stane and the Stones were gathered before the church. Lady Stone fainted at the sight, collapsing in Lord Stone’s arms. The young Stone watched with his mouth hanging open, as the priest explained the proceedings to the manor’s chaplain.
Stane pushed the chaplain out of the way, pouncing toward Tony. The alpha inside Steve’s chest snarled, breathing fire, thirsty for blood. “Don’t you dare,” he growled, charging forward, and for a long breath, reaching inside Stane’s chest and shredding his heart to pieces felt like the easiest task in the world.
Tony pulled Steve back. Bucky and Sam dragged Stane away. Stane ordered the guards to throw the villagers out but of course they knew better than taking orders from someone who had no power. They had already known that Stane’s word was worthless in the manor, back at the gate when Tony had asked them to let the crowd in.
It was over.
Bonded omegas needed no stewards. For as long as Steve was alive, Stane would never lay his filthy paws on Tony again.
***
In the years that went by, Tony thought about the events of that winter a lot.
When he was in labor with Sara, for instance, between ragged breaths as Steve was rubbing his painful back. Or when Sara held a newborn Maria in her small arms for the first time. When they held the first Invaders meeting in a basement Tony had designed for the purpose, when those running from unjust laws started to take shelter in the chambers they had later built across the basement.
Or in lazy, quiet afternoons like this, with the pups at Peggy’s to play with Becca, Steve reading in his sun-lit corner of the workshop, Ceartas lounging at his feet; Tony could not help but put down the pendulum clock he’d been working on, and take a breath to be fascinated at the turn of events.
How they hadn’t planned to fall in love and be better for it.
And yet, it somehow happened to them.