Chapter Text
Tony stared at the scroll of parchment in his hand, his face paling as the words blurred in front of him. “What...what is this?” he demanded. It came out more as a whimper, and Tony winced, clearing his throat before trying again. He raised his eyes to look over at his father, who was sitting behind his large desk, boots propped up on it and smirking at Tony, a tumbler of expensive bourbon in his hand.
“That, you failure of an omega,” Lord Stark told his son, “is a marriage contract, signed twelve years ago.” Twelve years and one day ago, to be precise, Tony noted; the exact day that he had presented as an omega. He knew it was the exact day because his father never tired of telling him, along with a long list of Tony’s apparent failings as both a Stark and an Omega.
Tony skimmed over the contract again, promising some Alpha that he’d never met the ownership of one Tony Stark upon the Omega’s eighteenth birthday. Which was...tomorrow. Marriage and contracts between alphas and omegas weren’t wholly uncommon, but they were usually entered into with the consent of both parties. And Tony knew he hadn’t consented to this. But his father’s signature was there, with Obie as a witness. It was the third name on the contract that chilled Tony and made him want to curl around his middle protectively. Duke Pierce was the highest ranked member of the country’s peerage, second only to the Royal Family itself. He was also the leader of the most feared group of warriors in the country; Hydra. Known for their ruthlessness and take no prisoners attitude, Hydra were the ones called upon first when the country went to war against its neighbors. Thanks to Hydra, the Kingdom of Manhattan had nearly tripled in size in the past two decades, oppressing and assimilating its neighboring countries. Those who didn’t submit or flee were killed.
“I would suggest you get your affairs in order. You leave at sunset. Your bags are already packed,” Howard told him, and Tony wanted to scream, wanted to rant at his father that it wasn’t fair, that he had a life here. He had friends, and the Jarvises, and the rest of the servants that he’d come to love, as they had practically raised him from birth. And he had Bucky, his lover and heat-companion. And the father of his unborn child.
Oh, god. What was Bucky going to say? How was he supposed to deal with that? Would Bucky even want the child, if he couldn’t have Tony, too? Maybe they could run away together. Bucky travelled a lot, helping the farmers with their crops or providing maintenance services to the homes of the wealthy. He did a little of everything, and was gone for much of the year. But he always made time for Tony’s heats, every third month like clockwork. Once Tony reached full maturity at twenty-one, the heats would amp up to a monthly occurrence, to encourage the makings of a family. Not that he needed the boost, Tony thought semi-hysterically, fighting the urge to press his hand to his still-flat tummy. He wasn’t showing yet, but all the signs were there. Increased sensitivity to touch, and to certain smells, morning sickness. If he missed his next Heat, he’d know for certain.
He swallowed down his arguments and gave his father a stiff nod before turning and leaving the room, the contract clenched tightly in his fist. Stark men were made of iron, and Tony wouldn’t give his father the satisfaction of seeing just how miserable he really was. He needed to talk to Bucky urgently, but the Alpha wouldn’t be back in town for another three days, and Tony knew for a fact that his father wouldn’t wait that long. He was going to be wed to Alpha Lord Barnes, and that was the end of the matter, as far as Howard was concerned.
Tony stroked his stomach through the fine silk shirt and wondered, not for the first time, if telling his parents of his predicament would change anything. Probably not, though knowing Howard, he’d demand that Bucky pay him a dowry for getting Tony pregnant, or he’d try and get more out of Hydra for getting both an omega and a child, even if that child was birthed out of wedlock.
Lost in thought, Tony turned the corner towards his rooms and nearly bowled over one of the scullery maids. Coming to an abrupt halt, he started to apologize, but Natalie just waved the apology away. “You did not hurt me, Young Master,” she stated in slightly stilted English, “but where are you off in such a hurry?”
Tony gave the redhead a watery smile. “Nowhere,” he said. “I’m going nowhere.”
And wasn’t that just the damn truth?
Natalie narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously, and Tony met her gaze, hoping she hadn’t yet learned what was happening. Natalie was very protective of him, and would be only too happy to storm her way into the Lord’s study and threaten him if he so much as even thought she’d accept such a ridiculous thing. Tony didn’t know how the woman had managed to keep her job for the past three years, thought he suspected it had less to do with good behavior and more to do with the fact that she had information on every member of the household.
“You are troubled,” Natalie said at last, hands on her hips. “You will come with me.” And with that, she turned and walked away, not looking back. Tony gave a confused, long-suffering look up at the ceiling before sighing and following her, knowing that she’d just come looking for him if he didn’t. And then he’d end up nursing a sore ear and doing what she’d told him to do in the first place, anyhow.
As the two of them approached the kitchen, Tony sniffed appreciatively at the air, his stomach giving a low growl of approval. Tony blinked, his hand automatically going to his stomach, as if he’d be able to tell what was happening in there. He hadn’t felt movement from the baby yet, but that didn’t mean anything. It was too early, yet. Maybe if he kept telling himself that, he’d start to believe it. He was pretty sure he’d read somewhere that constant stress was bad for babies.
Pausing just inside the kitchen doorway, Tony looked around. It was relatively quiet for the moment, as preparations for supper wouldn’t begin for another hour or so. Anna Jarvis was standing over by the row of ovens, humming cheerfully to herself as she pulled a batch of cookies out of the oven. Tony made a tiny wanting noise, and she turned her head to smile at him. “You are just in time,” she greeted him. “This batch is done.”
Using a spatula, Anna deftly removed the cookies from the pan and set them to cool. Tony didn’t wait; he reached out and snagged a cookie, careful not to wince when the melting chocolate burned his hands a little, and popped it in his mouth. “‘S goo’,” he managed around a mouthful of gooey chocolate and cookie crumbs.
“Manners, Young Master,” Edwin chastised lightly from over by the sinks, where he was washing out the bowls and things that Anna had used to prepare the cookies.
Tony swallowed the rest of his cookie. “Sorry,” he murmured.
“Edwin, leave the poor boy alone,” Anna scolded, walking up to wipe the corner of Tony’s mouth off with a towel. “Can’t you see that something is bothering him?”
Tony rolled his eyes. “Am I really that obvious?” he demanded of no one in particular. He got back a chorus of yes, and sighed, moving further into the kitchen until he could slump down into a chair at the servants’ table. When he was younger, he used to eat here a lot, instead of in the large, formal dining room that his parents insisted on eating in.
Anna put a new batch of cookies into the oven and brushed the powder off her hands before walking over to Tony, stopping next to him. Tony twisted around so that he could press his face to her stomach. “Sorry,” he murmured, his breath hitching. He wondered if this was a part of the pregnancy too, that everything upset him these days.
“You have nothing to apologize for,” Anna told him firmly, rocking on her feet slowly, the steady rhythm soothing as Tony took a few moments to just breathe, pulling himself together before he looked up and smiled at Anna, pulling back. She let him go, then sat in the chair to his left. “Now, how about you tell me what has got you so upset?” Anna asked.
Tony looked around the kitchen, but it hadn’t changed in the last five minutes. Other than himself, only the Jarvises and Natalie were present, and Tony trusted all of them.
Meeting Anna’s eyes, he took a deep breath and opened his mouth. He wasn’t entirely certain what he was about to say, but that had never stopped him before. He supposed he should start with the raw facts first.
I’m carrying Bucky’s child. I’m to be married tomorrow to Lord Barnes of Hydra. My bags are already packed.”
And then he promptly burst into tears.