originally published september 18, 2022
pairing: knight!steven grant x fem!princess!reader x knight!marc spector x knight!jake lockley
series summary: you were a princess who would rather be anything but a royal; he was the knight her father forced her to marry—a true match made in hell if there ever was one. but, as the wedding inches closer and closer, it seems that, perhaps, your father had finally done something right by you.
chapter summary: a look into what's happening with the princess.
word count: 1,509
warnings?: a shorter chapter whoops, kidnapping, vague descriptions of vomiting, not proofread
Your head fucking ached. Every little noise you heard felt like an explosion in your ears, as if you were right near a blast site when the explosion went off. God, why did your head hurt so much? You'd never experienced a headache quite like this before. The closest you'd ever experienced something like this was...Well, when you were poisoned, you supposed. But this was so much worse.
Why was it worse? What had happened to you? The last you remembered, you were leaving Nelson & Murdock. The security guard...What was his name? Billy? Was that right? (Why was it so hard for you to recall a name? You prided yourself on always being able to place a name to a face. This shouldn't be so difficult.) He had been following behind you. You reached the car and...
A wave of nausea washed over you. You felt the bile start to rise up your throat, your eyes stinging with tears. Before you could even process what was happening, the contents of your stomach emptied. The foul stench wafted in the...wherever you were. God, the smell alone made you want to vomit again. You weren't entirely sure if it was the smell, or perhaps that you still had remnants of whatever this sickness was, but you found yourself retching again, the horrible smell growing worse.
"Fucking bitch," a voice swore.
Who was that? Was that Billy? You couldn't quite recall what he sounded like... He had spoken to you before, hadn't he? Yes. Yes, he had. What had he said? It was right when you gotten to the car, wasn't it?
"He's not going to be happy about that," a different voice said. It was a woman, you think. At least, it was a more feminine voice. "No evidence, he said."
"Think we already fucked up on that account. I didn't realize there were cameras near the car."
"That footage has already been destroyed," the woman said. "I almost felt bad for that poor security guard. J.B., was it? He looked like he was about to piss his pants."
"You made sure he wouldn't say anything about what he saw, Bobbi?"
"Can't say anything if he's dead, can he?"
The man, Billy, barked out a laugh. "Wish we could just do that to her, eh? Would serve her right for embarrassing His Majesty like this."
Bobbi, the woman, you supposed, gave a long pause. You wondered if she was staring at you. When you tried to open your eyes to figure out for yourself, flashes of light nearly blinded you, so you squeezed your eyes shut again. (What were these flashes of light? Why were they coming and going so quickly?) Finally, she said, "She'll get what's coming for her."
What's coming for her? They had to be talking about you. Didn't they? Unless there was another woman wherever you were. (If there was, you felt a bit bad. You hoped you didn't vomit on her.) Unable to keep your curiosity at bay any longer, you forced your eyes open, squinting as flashes of light filled the area. You let out a shuddering breath, trying to move to adjust yourself, when you realized you couldn't.
Why couldn't you move? You fought to move your limbs, but something dug into your skin with every movement. Were you tied up? Why would you be tied up. The nausea soon overwhelmed you once more. You didn't fight against it this time, only cringing as you continued to make a mess of...What was this? A car? Those were certainly seats in front of you...It would explain the flashes of light, as you passed by each illuminated street light. Though, if the lights were illuminated, how much time had passed? It had been light out when you were...
When you were struck over the head. Billy had hit you. He had smashed your head into the car window. Oh, God. Oh, God, no.
Your chest constricted. It felt like someone reached into your chest, grabbed your heart, and squeezed. You. You had been the her Billy and the woman were talking about. You were the one who had embarrassed Benjamin. You would be the one who was soon dead. Last time, you had been lucky. Your fiancés were there to catch you when you fell. But this time?
This time, you weren't sure you'd be so lucky.
It was cold. The kind of cold that chilled you to your bone. The kind of cold that wouldn't leave no matter how many layers of clothes you put on, no matter how hard you tried to warm yourself. The kind of cold you saw in cartoons, where icicles would form on the character's nose, where they practically turn into a hyper-realistic ice sculpture. It was so cold, you were half-convinced that you had become one of those hyper-realistic ice sculpture.
Or, maybe you were just bound up again and that was why you couldn't move. You supposed that made more sense than you having been turned into an ice sculpture. It's just...It felt like all sense of ration and logic had left your mind. (Just how hard had they hit you?)
You wondered how long it had been. Hours? Days? You couldn't tell. Wherever you were, it was completely devoid of life. The entire room, it look like something straight out of a movie. An empty room, save for the chair you were bound to and a single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. No windows, no clock—nothing to signify how long you had been there, nothing to tell how much time had passed. It could've been comical under different circumstances. But now? Now it was just depressing.
It was almost as depressing as the thought about what was happening in the rest of the world. You wondered if your fiancés or Layla had noticed you were missing. Without knowing how much time had passed, you didn't know if they had grown suspicious yet. You had wrote in your note to your fiancés that you would be back for lunch. Had lunchtime passed yet? Were...were they even worried?
You wished you could shake the thought away, but it stuck with you like superglue. Perhaps they were grateful that you were taken. Perhaps a weight had been lifted from their shoulders. Ever since all of this began, their lives were wrapped in complete and utter turmoil. Layla now had to keep an eagle-eye on you. Marc, Steven, and Jake had to deal with a marriage they didn't ask for, a marriage to a woman who couldn't even breathe without someone trying to kill her.
You would forgive them if they decided to leave you behind. They had signed up for a crazy life, but they never could have anticipated this level of insanity. Being the bodyguard and fiancés of a princess was supposed to be about paparazzi following you everywhere, about people always wanting to know your business, about going to public events and wearing a bright smile and not fuck up. They didn't sign up for conspiracies and attempted assassinations and kidnappings. You wouldn't blame them if they just decided to turn a blind eye to all of this. It would certainly be the easier decision.
God, this made you want to scream. It was never supposed to be like this. You were always supposed to be the least favorite child. You were always supposed to be the one beloved by the public but hated by the family. You weren't supposed to end up in an arranged marriage that was designed to pin the blame of your death on an outsider. You weren't supposed to unearth an affair between Benjamin and a maid. You weren't supposed to learn that Kieran was an illegitimate son. You weren't supposed to learn that your mother was the only person in your family that actually cared. You weren't supposed to fall in love with Marc (or Steven or Jake). You weren't supposed to worry if they cared or if they were just playing a part. You weren't supposed to have any of this.
But, instead of screaming, you choked on a sob, your voice thick as you said, "I want my mommy."
Creeeeeeaaaaak!
You lifted your head, sniffling, as a door opened. A person stood in the door way, the light from behind them illuminating their tall frame. Your heart stopped as you looked at them. The figure look familiar, but you couldn't quite tell. Not yet. Not until they were closer. They stepped into the room, shutting the door behind them.
"Well, well, well," an all-too-familiar voice sneered from the shadows, "it seems I have been quite the terrible host. I hope you can accept my most heart-felt apologies."
He stepped into the light, your stomach dropping as your suspicions as to the man's identity was confirmed. Arthur Harrow had once been the most feared Moon Knight. Something told you that he still deserved that fear.