POV: You are the daughter of two powerful monarchs, making you a target. As a result, Steve has been assigned as your guard. He's serious about his job, but all you want is to have fun.
The Steve in this is post-serum, just an FYI. There's no super soldier stuff in this AU, he's just a buff boi.
A PART 2 IS COMING, I DID SAY THAT IN THE TITLE BUT I JUST WANT TO MAKE SURE Y'ALL KNOW.
WARNINGS: Minor gore, mention of death
Word Count: 1,821
Type: Sweet but then gets sad
Reader Pronouns: She/her
Your outfit:
I'm giving you a crown, so here:
Inspo for Steve's outfit (I normally don't do this but I felt the need to for this one):
Last picture, here's your castle:
•••
You walked down the grand corridor, your heels clicking and clacking against the marble floor. One of the only times you were allowed to be alone was in this corridor, and for good reason. Behind the intricate portraits of rulers long past laid an elaborate system of hidden tunnels, not used since the Rebellion decades ago, courtesy of your great-great-grandfather, King Baron von Strucker.
You pushed open the door at the end of the corridor where your "knight," Steve, was waiting for you. He turned and faced you, clearing his throat awkwardly after he took you in. You chuckled at his face. "Your Highness, you look great, I don't mean it like 'wow, you look better than you usually do,' I just meant that you look really nice. That's all."
"Steve, we've known each other since we were kids. You don't have to act so weird around me. And for Christ's sake, call me Y/N. You know I hate the stupid royal formalities."
"Uh, yeah, you're right. Are you ready to go down to the ball?"
"Yes, let's go."
He extended a hand and you gently placed yours in his, walking towards the marble stairs with the gold railings and descending. Step after step, you could hear the party below you getting louder.
You always hated these things. So many people, about a thousand princes from all over trying to win your hand in marriage, and the constant watch from the people and reporters, scrutinizing your every move, regardless of what it is.
You and Steve didn't talk the entire way down the staircase or as you walked down the final corridor towards the grand entryway, the beautiful carvings of birds, snakes, trees, and deer glinting in gold per usual. Though the carvings were done when the palace was first built, they were still immaculate.
You ran your finger over your favourite carving, the Bohemian Waxwing perched on top of a low branch, tracing the golden outline. Steve waited patiently, he knew you had your superstitions. If you didn't touch the bird, something bad would happen, the last day you didn't touch it was the day your grandmother died. Ever since, he's never seen you miss it.
You removed your hand and cleared your throat, nodding at Steve. He smiled and pushed open the doors for you before stepping to the side. You looked up at the grand chandelier, shining brightly above the crowd of people.
Your mother and father were on the royal balcony to your left and you nodded in their direction before descending down the steps to where the party-goers were dancing or watching you. You glanced at your brother, who was busy stuffing his face with food. You smiled at him ever so slightly. Though he was trying to be discreet, he wasn't doing it well, but he was 9, give him a break.
You reached the dance floor and heard Steve behind you, taking his place against the wall, hand placed on his sword. You turned and laughed at him, making your way around the side of the dance floor. He raised an eyebrow at you and you shook your head smiling, slipping deep into the crowd of dancers and joining in.
The music- courtesy of the band- blared throughout the night, from slow dances to community dances. You swung with your brother once or twice, laughing as he stumbled and jumped with you. You'd occasionally swing him around and pick him up, making him giggle and shriek while you shushed him slightly, all with a smile on your face, of course.
While you were caught up in the moment, Steve was watching you affectionately from the sidelines. He'd loved you since you were both 13, when he was still being trained and you were still being chased through the garden by your grandmother, screaming about how unladylike you were being. He smiled at the memory, that was nearly 8 years ago, just before you'd met days later.
Your brother ran off to your parents after the song ended and you turned back to Steve, smiling at him. He smiled back slightly and you walked over to him as the next song began to play, this time less lively and more slow. You glanced down at his hand, still positioned on his sword. "Would it kill you to relax a little?"
"Probably," he said, but loosened his grip on the sword a little. "And it might kill you, too."
"Oh come on." you extended a hand to him. "Dance with me."
"Unless it's an order, I can't."
"Fine then, it's an order, you can't disobey a direct order."
He chuckled and finally gave in, taking your hand. "No, I cannot."
You dragged him out onto the dance floor, him placing his hand on your waist and yours on his shoulder. You laughed at how awkward he was, you were taught to dance, as a princess it was your "royal duty," but as a guard, it wasn't really a part of the curriculum. "What?"
"You can't dance, can you?"
"I'm insulted by that notion."
"Were you taught?"
"No..."
"Alright, I'll lead then, you just follow me."
"Yes, my lady."
"Shut up."
You both chuckled and you took lead, your gown swirling elegantly and gliding through the air, while Steve looked like a chicken learning to walk. A cute chicken, though. That you couldn't deny, you never could.
You locked eyes with him and you watched as his cheeks turned to a rosy red. You cracked a smile and he cleared his throat like he was about to make some speech. "Your majesty-"
"Y/N."
"Sorry, Y/N, I've been meaning to tell you this for a long time, and I think I should now, before I can't."
"Oh?"
Your heart skipped a beat, hoping he'd finally say what you thought he would. You'd been waiting for a long time for him to finally own up to it. He took a deep breath and briefly closed his ocean blue eyes before staring back into yours. "Here goes nothing. Y/N, I-"
He was cutoff abruptly by the sound of multiple gunshots ringing through the ballroom, the screams of your people and monarchs from far and wide erupted soon after. Your eyes went wide and darted up to the mezzanine, watching as your father collapsed on his throne, blood trickling down from a gunshot wound to his head.
Your mother shrieked and you noticed blood seeping through her white, lace bodice near her stomach. Your brother started to cry- God you hoped he wasn't hit, but you couldn't tell through his burgundy waistcoat and suit. Everyone flooded out of the ballroom in a panic while you stood, shocked.
You couldn't hear anything as the stampede caused more chaos, you could only see the dead body of your beloved father, the face of your grieving and in pain mother, and the crumpled form of your brother. He was so young to deal with this.
You felt a hand shake you gently and you were pulled back to reality, turning to face Steve as the tears brimmed your eyes. All of a sudden, the sound came back. "Y/N, we need to go. Head to the tunnels."
You nodded weakly and he drew his sword with one hand, holding yours in the other while rushing with you up the stairs towards the grand oak doors with the Bohemian Waxwing carved on them. You felt your crown slip off your head as he threw them open and ran up the stairs at the end of the corridor, you in shock behind him.
You reached the hall of paintings and he threw back the one of your great-great-grandfather, revealing the dusty tunnels. He lifted you in and followed, pulling the heavy painting closed behind him. He urged you down the tunnel system, which led throughout the attic and behind hidden walls, until you were well underground and working your way out of the town.
You felt like you'd been walking forever when you finally saw an inkling of light at the end of the tunnel. Steve gently pushed ahead of you and opened the trapdoor as the moonlight cascaded into view. He climbed out and lowered a hand to help you. You took it and he pulled you out before closing the trapdoor behind you before looking around your surroundings. "It looks like we're North of the palace. Our closest allies would be the Kingdom of Drozia to the East, but normally that's a 3 day walk from the castle, forget adding the distance from here, the middle of no where."
"My father is dead."
He turned to face you, a sympathetic look on his face while yours was still plastered in shock. He placed his hand on your shoulder and you collapsed into him, forcing him to catch you in his arms and sit down with you. He placed a hand on the back of your head and you finally began to cry, your body quaking as you sobbed into him. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."
He repeated that over and over until you finally fell asleep, laying your head on his chest, but he didn't sleep. He cautiously watched you and the wilderness around you both before finally letting tears of his own roll down his face.
Your parents were like family to him, too. Your father, he was active and taught him the art of fencing when he was 16, turning him into one of the most skilled fencers in the kingdom. Something he'd never get the chance to thank him for.
Your mother, she was always the more artistic one and taught him how to write poetry at 18, most of which ended up being about you. She was the only one he trusted with his secret crush for you, but it was fairly obvious to anyone who glanced at the way he looked at you.
Your brother- God your brother. He was 9, and he could be dead. He was funny, challenging him to water gun fights in the garden and begging him to show him how to use a sword, something he never gave into, and for good reason.
He looked down at you, the tears now dried on your cheeks, your chest rising and falling peacefully, a small frown plastered on your lips as you slept, the moonlight illuminating your hair. You looked so peaceful, like something out of a drawing in a fairytale or a painting worthy of hanging on the wall in the hall of portraits.
As he cried- wept, really- it was the first time he'd cried since his mother died. He made a silent vow to himself that he'd protect you with his life and return you to your home when the time had come, and allow you to take your place on the throne. He had to.