Please, Stop.
Tony smiles. It's a beautiful morning. A perfect morning to make up some excuse to get out of the castle and sneak down to the little hut down by the lake.
He picks up his bright red tunic, knowing it's Peter's favourite, and gets dressed, hooking his sword in place and takes the stairs two at a time to get out before his father manages to hunt him down and force him to practice archery or meet up with the tailor to get his attire for the ball tried on.
He nods to Clint and Steve where they're standing in the courtyard, chatting about whatever. They wave and smile knowingly back at him as he sprints over to the stables.
*
The tiny hut is glowing in the morning sun, bathing in the glittering reflection from the river.
Peter is standing barefoot on a rock out on the water, eyes closed and face tilted towards the sky. He looks beautiful like this. His light tunic swaying in the breeze. He's so peaceful, and Tony silently climbs down from his horse and settles in the grass, content to just watch his lover for a minute.
If Tony didn't know better, he'd think Peter wasn't aware of his presence. But even if Peter is standing completely still, like a statue for all the creatures of the forest to worship, nothing escapes his watchful body.
Peter knows everything going on around him, both in the past, present and future. He hears every whisper of the wind, every important creak from the crickets hiding in the grass, every hiss of the snakes and all the gossip travelling through the leaves as they rustle around them.
Peter knows all. Like a spider he has created a delicate web around the forest, feeling every little string vibrate underneath his bare toes.
Peter turns his head slightly, opening his big, doe eyes and beaming at Tony where he's sitting. Tony just about melts where he's sitting in the dewey grass.
"Good morning, your majesty." He says, his voice so soft and melodic, making Tony's heart skip a beat.
"Good morning, Culver." Peter steps gracefully down from the rock and walks through the gentle stream without disturbing the steady flow. It's never going to not surprise the prince how his young lover can defy every law of nature.
"Did the night treat you well?" Peter kneels in front of him, smiling softly and cupping his cheeks. Tony doesn’t remember sleeping at all, but he suspects maybe Peter had a hand in it, making sure the nightmares stayed away.
“Yes.” Is all he says, not that he needs to say a lot, Peter has a way of reading him that doesn’t include words. Somehow always knowing what he needs and what he wants. And he’s always there to make it happen and take care of any struggle he might have.
“I’m glad.” His soft hand finds its way to Tony’s raven black hair, combing it gently, and leaning his divine face closer. Tony can feel the warm breath leaving the perfect, pink lips on his own, and it’s so soft, his mouth is like the softest silk, moving in perfect symphony with his own.
It’s nothing wild or desperate like the frantic kisses seen in the tavern in town, it’s magical, safe, home. Tony loves it. He loves Peter. He knows this. Has known for a long time. In a perfect world, Peter would share Tony’s quarters, sit by his throne, rule the kingdom alongside him.
But it’s not a perfect world. And it’s the only dream Tony has, that Peter can’t do anything with. It’s not because he doesn’t want to. Tony doesn’t doubt that the love is returned. But Peter can’t change the minds and ideas of the whole world. Witches and Warlocks have been hunted down and killed for centuries.
If his father even suspected anything, Peter would be executed. Murdered for keeping the woods and nature in perfect shape, helping the animals thrive and making sure there’s plenty enough for hunting season. Keeping the berry bushes and fruit trees growing and luring the fish down the river every spring.
Killed for keeping the kingdom safe from bandits and wars. Tony would have made the people worship him in his wake. Would order everyone to bow to him. Thank him for never resting. But he can’t do that.
This is enough, for now. He has Peter all to himself, hidden away, deep in between the large trees and protected by bears and wolves as a grateful thank you for making sure their home is safe from humans.
Tony can have Peter straddling his lap in the bright green grass, without worrying about interruptions. He gets to be the only person to receive the pure smile and soulful eyes. He can hold him and cherish him, kiss him, make love to him. And he’s the only one. The love they share is theirs. Theirs alone, and there’s something so special about it, that the dream of having Peter by his side in the eyes of the world pales in comparison.
*
They’re swimming in the cold river, Peter is laughing, the sound entrancing and making Tony’s knees wobbly in the cold water. He has Peter wrapped around his waist, long, pale arms secure around his neck as he swims on his back, only keeping himself up with Peter’s magic help.
The sun is kissing their naked skin, the water droplets glittering in the light, it’s the most beautiful thing Tony has ever seen, his lover almost sparkling with his small, yet muscular form and beaming smile.
“You’re so beautiful, Culver.” he murmurs and Peter leans in to kiss him. A whirlwind occurs around them, and when they break apart, Tony can see the water rising, swirling in perfect waves, creating a protective barrier between them and the rest of the world.
He’s not sure if Peter’s doing it on purpose, or if it’s the emotions talking. It doesn’t really matter. He loves it all the same. He knows, that Peter doesn’t always have control. If he’s in distress or threatened, the instincts lurking under the flawless skin takes over. He witnessed it once, when a group of travellers came up to his little home and surprised him.
Peter didn’t necessarily want to hurt them, but they saw him, and wanted to take him for themselves, thinking it was easy, taking down him and Tony alone. They were 15 well equipped, grown men after all. They were still no match for the secret wrath they unleashed when they pointed their swords and arrows at them.
They didn’t even get within reach before they were dusting away, carried off with the soft autumn wind.
Tony learned to never underestimate him, then. He’s a peaceful man, but he will protect himself and his loved ones when needed.
“I love you, rote.” Peter whispers, and lifts one of his delicate hands to the swirl of water around them, creating an opening formed as Tony’s family shield. The dotted circle is glowing in the blue water, and a tree is forming and growing around it, it’s roots wrapping around the crest.
Tony doesn’t know what to say. He’s never witnessed anything like this. He’s never seen such a way to show what he means to anyone. His heart is hammering in his chest and he’s so entranced by the sight, he doesn’t notice his father and his right hand standing by the shore.
“Anthony! Get back here this instance!” The water drops, splashing violently around them. Peter’s eyes are wild, frantically looking from the king glaring at them, to Obediah Stane standing by his side, smirking, to Tony. Tony swallows thickly. No.
He places a hand on Peter’s shoulder, grounding him, and making sure he doesn’t vaporize his father. He can fix this. He can talk to him. I have to fix this.
*
“Father, you need to listen to me!” Tony jogs to keep up with the king’s fast and determined steps. Peter went with them willingly back to the castle, thankfully. Knowing his father, Clint was most likely hiding in one of the trees nearby, ready to shoot a poisonous arrow the second Peter moved in a way he didn’t like.
It’s not good. Peter is locked up in the dungeons, waiting for the stake to be set up in the courtyard. If his father would just listen to him. They can send Peter away. Exile him from the kingdom. Anything other than burning him alive for everyone to see.
“I’m the king. I don’t need to listen to anyone. Especially not the scum I call a son. Not only did I find you naked with a man. I find you with a damned mage!” He spits the words like they’re venomous, and Tony flinches.
“Can I at least talk to him?” His father turns to look at him, disgust oozing from his entire being. He squares his shoulders and looks down at his son as if his powerful title alone is able to shrink him.
“You have until sundown. James will join you.” He waves over the guard, who hesitates for just a second while giving Tony an apologetic look. He’s close with many of the guards and servants at the castle, and considers many of them friends. James is one of those friends. And he knows about him and Peter. They’ve even met once.
“I’m so sorry, Tony.” he says in a hushed tone as he leads him down to where they’re holding his lover. “This wasn’t meant to happen.” Tony raises a questionable eyebrow at his friend.
“What are you sorry about? This isn’t your fault. It was bound to happen eventually.” Which is true. Believing that they could keep their relationship a secret forever was wishful thinking at best. It would have been harder to hide after Tony’s marriage to Virginia. Tony can’t even imagine laying with anyone that’s not his precious Peter.
“You don’t know.” It’s not a question as much as it’s a statement, and Tony itches to know what he’s talking about.
“They put Steve in the chamber, Tony. Demanding to know where you were. He didn’t have a choice.” Oh.
“He’s one of our best men. He should be able to withstand the punishment.” More truth. Any warrior should be able to withstand torture without breaking down. Even from their own. He’s going to kill Steve for this. It shows just how little loyalty means to him. How little their friendship means.
“Perhaps.” James steps aside, and reveals a shackled Peter curled up in the corner. His curls are matted and sticking to his forehead, but he smiles all the same, when he spots Tony through the bars.
“Hey, Culver. I’m going to get you out of here, don’t worry.” He tries for a reassuring smile of his own, but it’s strained, and he knows he’s failing. Peter sees right through it. Always has and always will.
“Please, don’t.” He reaches a frail hand through the bars, and caresses Tony’s cheek. Tony can feel the warmth in his fingers, and it lingers even when they move to trace his lips. “There’s nothing for you to do, love.” The musical voice is chanting in his ears like a mantra, and Tony’s heart forcefully slows down with Peter’s careful fingers moving along the lines on his face.
“I can save you.” He tries, voice cracking and eyes stinging with unshed tears. Even when he says it out loud he knows it’s a loss. He can’t defy his father, or he’ll end up at the gallows himself, and Peter would never forgive him for throwing his life away for him.
“You save yourself. Promise me.” The last words are whispered, and it sounds like they’re inside Tony’s head. He tries to shake his head no, but he can’t possibly do it. He opens his mouth to argue, yet the words forcing their way out is “I promise.”
The tears start rolling, and he wants to scream. Curse his father for doing this. Yell at Peter for making him agree to this. This isn’t right.
Peters hand find its way to the back of Tony's head, the chains clinking loud against the prison door. Long, cold fingers tangle in his raven black hair and Peter pushes his head forward, so their foreheads are resting together with only the metal bars as a barrier between them.
“I love you.”
“I know. I love you too.”
*
Peter still doesn’t struggle, when Obediah brings him out to the pole and forcefully ties his wrists and ankles to the wooden stake. He keeps his eyes trained on Tony, sitting in his chair beside his father. He doesn’t want to see this. He can’t watch his soulmate, the love of his life, burn in front of everyone, out in the open. Small and vulnerable and alone.
He’s smiling. A gentle tug on his lips, wordlessly telling Tony that it’s okay. It’ll be fine.
“Please, father. Let him go.” The king just snorts, and nods to Obediah, giving him the all clear to keep going.
Peter's head is held high, eyes still boring into Tony's soul, as the flames rise around him. The townspeople are yelling profanities and cursing him, but it's all reduced to white noise in the background. Tony can't focus on anything other than the chestnut brown hair swaying in the wind, the burning robe hanging on the small, pale skin and those big, honest doe eyes.
Peter gives him one last smile and winks at him, Tony's mind is racing. This can't be it. It can't be the end. Tony can't allow this to be it.
Peter tilts his head back, opens his mouth as to welcome the unforgiving flames surrounding him. Enveloping him. And then.
The fire rises, and Peter's body disappears in the warm sparkling hell. The red tongues are licking up the pole, creating a painting of a large tree, wrapped around Tony's family Crest.
Tony smiles. He'll come back to me.