Archive of Our Own

Victoria Hand glanced back down at the scanned document on her tablet, reading and re-reading the meeting request, just in case she had missed something.

That was it. No additional context. No clarifying notes. Nothing. There was no other information to be gleaned from it. Her perfectly manicured crimson nail tapped thoughtfully on the screen with a soft click click click that echoed through the sparsely decorated room.

Victoria had handled more than a few HR meetings since taking up her new (or was it old?) position at Avengers Mansion. There were a few frequent fliers to her office. Tedious, yes, but at least she knew what she was in for when they turned up at her door:

Spidey: Endless issues with payroll.

Doreen: Excessive “voluntary” overtime hours. Refusal to take owed time in lieu.

Ben: Increasingly annoyed reports of Jones and Cage "canoodling in places where he likes to eat breakfast”.

Rogers, though, was unproblematic.

Which made his self-referral all the more concerning.

Technically, he was her superior, but besides a few meetings she had called with him, he had only presented himself once to her office with a concern. He had sat himself in front of her desk with a weary sigh, shoulders slumped, as he confessed to slipping up and using an outdated term in front of the Young Avengers. He’d been so visibly mortified she hadn’t even assigned the standard online remediation module.

So why, now, did unease coil quietly in her chest as the clock ticked down?

A sharp knock at the door snapped her from her thoughts. Victoria straightened, smoothing an invisible crease from her sleeve. “Come in.”

Steve Rogers stepped inside, all broad shoulders and professional restraint. She gestured to the seat opposite her, inviting him to take a seat.

Victoria’s sense of unease compounded as she was smacked by the strange nervous energy pouring off him in waves.

"Rogers,"

"Ms. Hand," Steve gave her a nod in greeting as he slid into the chair. They exchanged the usual pleasantries, Victoria’s concern compounding with every passing minute.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" she asked, her tone professional - far more so than the “What did you do this time?” she reserved for some of the others, “According to your self-referral form, you have a couple of things to discuss. Shall we start with the first one.”

“Actually, ma’am, they’re are related,”

“I see.” She did not, in fact, see. “Then let’s start with the political incident. Is this concerning our government, an ally, an adversary, or-”

“I believe they’re classified as an extra-planar government,” Steve said. “Politically neutral at present..”

Victoria sighed, her tension easing a little. “That’s a relief. Please tell me it isn’t Atlantis. We’re still dealing with the fallout from Logan’s little…excursion last Fall.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, “No, nothing like that. I’ve been awarded an official title by a foreign government entity. Figured that was something you might want on record.”

Oh thank the gods. Strange titles bestowed by even stranger foreign entities was the best-case scenario, all things considered. At the very least, it was something she had handled before. Danvers had to have a whole separate folder in her personnel file for exactly that.

With a nod, Victoria tapped on her tablet to pull up his employee profile.

“Understood. Is this title ceremonial, or does it carry responsibilities?”

“The latter,” Steve said, and if she didn’t know better, Victoria might have thought he had flushed at her question. She continued down the mental flow chart.

“Can these responsibilities be fulfilled in conjunction with your duties with Avengers, or will they require a leave of absence?”

“No additional time commitment beyond my off-duty hours,” Steve said quickly. “There may be a ceremony or two, but I can use personal leave. Since it is… personal.”

Personal, huh? Now that was interesting.

Of all the generators of chaos under her purview, Rogers had always been the best at keeping his personal and professional life separate. For him to bring it to her meant whatever it was might actually be of concern. Maybe her sense of unease was not so mis-placed.

For the briefest of moments, Victoria caught the scent of something spicy. It was gone as quickly as it arrived.

“Noted,” she said, ticking the appropriate box. “And the title itself? If it’s in another language, an English approximation will suffice.”

Steve hesitated. His gaze flicked over her shoulder, then back down to her tablet. Victoria sighed, putting the tablet down carefully.

“Rogers,” she said, folding her hands neatly on the desk, “anything disclosed here will remain confidential unless it poses a risk to you or your team.” She offered what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

“Right. Thanks.” He grimaced faintly. “Okay. Let’s just get this over with. I’m the Prince Consort-”

Victoria let out a low, impressed whistle before she could stop herself. No wonder he was so twitchy about it.

“Well. Apparently congratulations are in order, Your Majesty.”

“He did not finish,” A low, heavily accented voice purred from behind her.

Victorian spun in her chair.

Illyana Rasputina, Queen of Limbo leaned casually against her bookshelf as if she had always been there, pale eyes sparkling with some quiet mischief.

Victoria’s composure slipped for exactly half a second before she fought to regain her mask of professionalism.

“Go on, Сахарок,” Illyana said, tilting her chin towards Steve, “Tell her the whole thing.”

Victoria cast her eyes back to Steve, half expecting him to be cowering in his seat. Instead she found the man looking uncharacteristically… soft. Unguarded. That was the only word Victoria could use to describe the way he was looking at the demonic Queen.

Well, that was nauseatingly sweet.

Victoria picked up her tablet again, her fingers poised over the keyboard.

Steve’s eyes danced with laughter. “It’s a bit of a mouthful. Ready?”

“Shoot.”

“Alright, but don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he cleared his throat, “Steven Grant Rogers, Prince Consort of Limbo, Envoy from the Unenviable Mortal Realm, Deshyr of the Human Council, Third Hand and Bridegroom of Her Highness the Queen of Limbo, Bearer of Her Shadow, Keeper of Her Dark Name, and Attendant the Royal Suite.”

“Do not forget,” Illyana added helpfully, “Committee Chair of the Lesser Demon Book Club.”

“I…see…” Victoria said, slightly dazed as she put down her tablet.

“I call him душа моя for short,” Illyana added with a small shrug. “You may not.”