My@knotbang collab with the ever Fabulous @kalika999and@fantasticwinter is here!!!!!! We have werewolves and found family! We have Drama! Did I mention WEREWOLVES????
Read it here!!!! (And remember to shower your author with those kudos and comments if you enjoy it!)
Soldier - Gavin DeGraw |Animals - Maroon 5 | I Will Follow You Into The Dark - Death Cab For Cutie | Love Me Again - John Newman | Young and Beautiful - Lana Del Rey |
Pairing: Princess!Reader x Cinderella!Bucky Summary: A/B/O!AU. Female!Reader is an Omega. Alphas and Omegas are rare, and Reader’s been able to avoid alphas through sheer force of will and luck in equal parts. Warnings: verbal abuse and physical abuse [of Bucky] Word Count: ~8,622 A/N:If I was pissed that By Chance was deleted, I’m just plain confused on why this was deleted. I don’t think it even has any sexual scenes.
You knew that when your father, the King, summoned you, whatever he had to say wasn’t going to be pleasant. You’d been dodging suitors and making excuses for being unable to meet eligible foreign dignitaries for years, and it was only a matter of time until your father had had enough.
“You will show up to the ball. You will choose a suitor from the bachelors invited. And you will do your duty as this country’s princess,” your father said forcefully, eyeing you angrily from his spot on the other side of his study’s extravagant desk.
You weren’t going to give into your father’s demands. There was no way you’d sell yourself to the highest bidder; you’d met enough Lords to know they were all power-hungry sharks just looking for a chance at the crown matrimonial.
You had to put up some show of resistance, or he’d suspect you were up to something.
“Father, I am not some pawn to be cast off as you see fit! I am my own woman and I can rule this country on my own!” you said defiantly. “I have been tutored on how to best lead this country from the moment I learned how to speak! I alone can-”
“That is enough!” the king roared, standing suddenly as he slammed his hands on the table, anger twisting his face until he was almost unrecognizable to the man who raised you. “I tire of your insolence, daughter! You should have been married off years ago, but it is only because of my and your mother’s love for you that you have been allowed to remain unwed this long. Our retainers- nay, our people- will not respect a queen with no king or king consort!” he said, spittle flying from his lips in his unbridled fury. “You will find a man to marry at the ball tonight, or I will choose a different successor to ensure a stable line of succession,” he said venomously.
You hung your head in mock contriteness, eyes trained on the ground. You hadn’t been expecting him to threaten your birthright, but you supposed it wasn’t that surprising. You knew that your father cared more about securing his bloodline than he did about you. “I’m sorry, father. I will… try my best to find a suitable bachelor,” you said penitently, curtsying gracefully to him.
“I expect you to make the declaration of who you will marry by the end of the ball,” he warned, making your stomach plummet to your feet. Not only did you have to marry some backstabbing Lord of the court, you had, at most, a single night to get to know him first.
“I will return to my chambers and review the portraits of my potential suitors and have Lord Barton help me review their backgrounds. By your leave, of course, your majesty,” you said placatingly, once again curtsying deeply.
You felt his gaze bore through you, looking for any signs of dissent or trickery.
He seemed to find none, though. “That is acceptable. You may leave,” he said coldly.
“Your majesty,” you said benevolently, finally rising from your curtsy to leave the room.
The second the doors to your room closed behind you, you burst into action. You knew you couldn’t leave; you wanted the crown. You wanted to do right by your people which, in your eyes, meant not marrying any of the corrupt men that wanted your hand in marriage.
You tore at the strings and lace binding your dress to you, nearly ripping the dress in your haste to tear it from your body.
You had so little time, now; So little freedom left. If you were going to be engaged tonight, you were sure as hell going to make the most of the day.
There was a quiet rap at the door, causing you to freeze halfway out of your elegant gown and look at it in horror. If your father-
“May I enter, your highness?” came a tentative voice at the door.
You sighed in relief. “Yes, Wanda. Come in,” you said quickly, ducking behind your bed in case someone happened to peek in the room when Wanda entered.
As soon as she’d shut the doors you were in front of her, gown hanging off of you, eyes wild. She nearly squeaked in fear, but you clapped a hand over her mouth. “Wanda, I need a favor,” you said hastily.
Twenty minutes later you were in the stables, dressed in castle servant’s clothes.
You glanced around and were relieved to find it empty; apparently everyone had either finished riding for the day or were out. Either way, it meant you wouldn’t be interrupted.
You walked down the line of stalls, stopping in front of the one you needed. The name “Havel” was etched into a sign on the door with painstaking detail.
“Hey boy,” you said affectionately.
The lovely dapple grey in the stall perked his head up immediately at the sound of your voice, inquisitive ears pointed directly at you.
A low nicker left his lips as he walked up to the gate of stall, obviously excited to see you.
You laughed at that and pulled out the apple you had stashed in your pocket, throwing it into his feed bucket attached to the inside wall. He immediately started munching on it while you unlocked the stall door and grabbed the saddle. A quick pet revealed he’d already been groomed and you sighed in relief; the less time you spent on the castle grounds, the more time you could spend enjoying your last day as a free woman.
“Alright, Havel. It took me a while, but I think I finally-”
You froze, eyes wide in shock, at the stable boy’s sudden intrusion.
“You can’t be in here! That’s the princess’ horse!” the stable boy, Peter, said loudly, obviously alarmed.
“Shh! Peter! It’s me,” you said, pulling your hood back a bit so he could see your face more easily in the dim light.
“Oh, my goodness! Princess! I’m so sorry!” he said, bowing frantically, bridle still clutched in his hand.
“Peter! Not so loud! Please!” you hissed, glancing worriedly around the barn.
“Sorry, sorry. Here’s his bridle. It was rubbing him a bit so I adjusted it; it should fit perfectly now!” he said, still bent over double in a bow, eyes trained on the ground as he thrust his hand forward, holding the bridle out to you.
“Thank you, Peter. I’ll be back in a while, but you didn’t see me here, understand?” you said, quickly easing the bridle onto Havel.
Peter looked up at you worriedly, but nodded. “Have a safe journey, princess,” he said, standing back so you could lead Havel out of his stall.
You smiled at him as you passed. “I will.”
You and Havel set a brisk pace and made it to the village about fifteen minutes later, hood shadowing your face so it was less likely people would recognize you. You dropped him off at the local stable for a short while, dropping the stable master a small handful of coppers for the trouble.
You set off to explore the town, simply enjoying being among your people without being recognized. It was nice to know you were loved, but you like seeing them as they were every day, and not just on festivals and special occasions.
Yes, you preferred your everyday citizens to the rich, pompous nobles at court any day. By and large they were hard-working, passionate, and kind people and every time you were among them the knowledge that you would lead them one day weighed heavily on you; you never wanted to let them down.
According to your father, though, you were doing just that by not marrying.
You shook your head, trying to clear it of all the dark thoughts about the ball and your impending marriage. When you looked up you realized you’d never been to this part of town before. Here, there was more room between houses; yards were grander and the houses more opulent. You sighed; getting lost hadn’t been part of your plan today.
You resigned yourself to wandering around until you spotted a familiar street, enjoying the scenery as you walked.
You hadn’t made it more than a few steps when a deep melody reached your ears.
“A dream is a wish your heart makes,
When you’re fast asleep…”
You followed the source of the noise, curious. Whoever was singing had a beautiful voice, but he also sounded so… sad.
“In dreams you lose your heartaches,
Whatever you wish for you keep…”
As you walked you looked into houses’ windows, craned your neck to see past hedges, and even hefted yourself on top of stone walls in search of the mystery singer.
You knew you were headed in the right direction; the singing was only growing louder and, with it, your curiosity.
“Have faith in your dreams and someday,
Your sun will come smiling through…”
It was when you peeked over the wall of the last house on the street that you finally spotted him.
Although the garden was tiny, it was well-maintained and could rival even parts of the royal gardens in its beauty. There, in the center, was your mystery singer. You glimpsed him through the trellises as he worked, shoulder-length brown hair tied back in a messy bun. Although he was wearing ratty peasant clothes, it wasn’t hard to spot the handsome man underneath the layers of dirt.
“No matter how your heart is grieving…”
You realized, then, why it was so quiet. The birds and small critters of the woods were all watching him work, charmed by his song. He trimmed trees with loving care, assessed all the plots for weeds, and placed down new fertilizer.
“If you keep on believing…”
He stood, wiping his brow, and smeared dirt all over his it. He looked around, surveying his handiwork, song falling easily from his lips.
“The dream that you wish will-”
His steel blue eyes met yours and his melody stopped abruptly, the magic his voice had been working ending abruptly. He stared at you, shocked, trowel clattering to the ground loud enough to scare the critters away.
“I’m sorry! Your singing was so beautiful! I didn’t mean to spy!” you said quickly, standing up straight now that you’d been caught.
He studied you warily, blue eyes drinking in every inch of you. He must have realized he was staring because he looked away suddenly, as though the bush next to him was the most interesting thing in the world.
“It’s alright…” he said tentatively, fingers nervously playing with the hem of his shirt. “I just thought you might be my step brother, at first,” he said nervously.
“Sorry, just me!” you said, smiling broadly. “This garden is beautiful. Do you take care of it all on your own?” you asked curiously, openly studying it with interest. He seemed to swell with a bit of pride at your compliments.
“Yes. The house, too,” he said, shyly pointing to the mansion behind him.
“Wait, you take care of this garden and that giant house? By yourself?” you asked, gaze returning to him, disbelief clear on your face.
He seemed to think he’d said too much, stumbling over his next words. “My step father is a busy man, and my step brother is learning how to run the family business under his tutelage. I… they ask me to take care of the house and garden,” he said quickly.
“My name is Ella,” you lied easily. You didn’t feel like giving him your real name in case he recognized you. “What’s yours?”
“James, my lady. Though my mother always called me Bucky.”
“How does one get ‘Bucky’ from James?” you asked, smiling curiously.
“It’s from my middle name, Buchanan,” he said sheepishly.
“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, James,” you said, grinning shyly. However, you still had questions. “It seems your step father is quite wealthy. Surely he could afford a couple of people to tend to the house and garden so that you could also learn how to help run your family business?” you said, crossing your arms as your mind worked. Something wasn’t quite right with his story.
“We’re not as well off as we seem, I’m afraid. At least, that’s what he tells me. I haven’t been allowed to look at my family’s books in years.”
“Wait, it’s your family’s business, not your step father’s? What about your mother? Surely she must have something to say about him cutting you out of the management of it,” you said brows furrowed in confusion.
He shifted uncomfortably. “She passed on when I was still a child. She fell ill after marrying my step father, and passed on only a year after saying ‘I do’.” he said sadly, gaze flicking away from you as he was assaulted with painful memories.
“Oh! I’m so sorry. That was terribly rude of me!” you said hurriedly, heart twisting painfully in your chest at the hurt you saw in his eyes.
He smiled, melancholy, at your apology. “It’s alright. You had no way of knowing,” he said reassuringly. He paused before he looked back up at you, a puzzled look on his face. “I’m not sure why I’m telling you all of this,” he chuckled lightly, the sound sending a thrill through you.
You couldn’t help but smile back. “People always say I look like I have a trustworthy face. Can’t get them to stop telling me their deepest, darkest secrets,” you joked, letting out a melodramatic sigh.
He laughed in earnest at that, light pink dusting his cheeks as he responded. “I would have to agree with ‘everyone,’ then,” he said shyly.
You beamed at him, placing your hands flat against the top of the stone wall as you leaned over it. “If you would indulge a bit of selfishness on my part, I would very much like a tour of your garden,” you said earnestly, eyes shimmering with hope. If you were being honest, you also wanted to get closer to him to see if he was as handsome up close as he was from far away.
He looked up and down the street nervously before he looked back at you. As he studied you closely he seemed to make up his mind. He nodded and moved towards the gate, likely intending to open it for you, but you simply vaulted over it, deftly avoiding the lovely plots of flowers on the other side.
“That works, too,” he said, smiling at you.
“Do you enjoy working in the garden, at least?” you asked, as you walked over to him, surreptitiously glancing at him as you studied the plants around you. He was, indeed, just as attractive up close.
He seemed to consider your question a moment, head tilting adorably to the side, gloved fingers absently running over the leaves of the vines next to him. “I enjoy it more than cleaning the house. At least out here I have the company of the animals,” he said quietly. You nodded, but your mind mulled his answer over.
The two of you walked the garden together for some time. He knew the name of every plant and exactly how to take care of it to make it as healthy as possible. The two of you talked about the town once you ran out of plants, but you carefully avoided talking about the royal family. Finally, you just had to ask.
“Why don’t you leave? You don’t seem to be very happy here?” you asked quietly, eyes searching his face.
He sighed, shoulders slumping slightly as he looked around, gaze lingering on the house. “This place is all I have left of my mother. I couldn’t leave it to my Step father and brother,” he said, hint of bitterness creeping into the sadness of his voice. His gaze seemed so far away.
“I suppose I can understand that,” you said, reaching out to place a hand gently onto his arm. His gaze snapped back to you, startled, and you hesitantly removed your hand, afraid you’d upset him. “Not wanting to leave something because you care so much about it, even when staying hurts, too.”
He nodded slowly, a tender smile that made your heart flutter in your chest appearing on his face. “Yes, exactly.”
The two of you stood there, frozen in the moment, before it was shattered by a loud, angry voice from the other side of the house; whoever it was seemed to be on the street, just out of sight
“Cinderbucky! Your brother and I are home! Come take our horses at once! The King has announced a ball where all eligible bachelors of the kingdom are invited and at the end of the night the princess will announce who she’s to marry! We must prepare for your brother to attend at once!” the step father yelled, just out of your line of sight.
He turned to run towards the source of the noise “I’m sorry! I must go, or-”
“James, wait!” The thought of never seeing him again bothered you greatly, but you didn’t want to look too closely at why. “Go to the ball! I work at the castle! I… I wish to see you again!” you said hopefully, lying through your teeth. You don’t know why you continued to lie about your position, other than that you were afraid he’d be blinded by your status.
He looked at you, wide grin spreading across his lips. “I will be there, then,” he promised, though he knew it was easier said than done. “You must go now, though, before they see you!” he urged, head swiveling in fear as his step father yelled angrily again. He seemed torn, but ran away, one of his shoes flying off in his haste. He didn’t even pause to go back for it.
An idea hit you then, and you took the shoe carefully from the ground. While obviously old, he seemed to take good care of it. You shoved it under your cloak before you turned and headed to the edge of the gardens.
With one last lingering look, you spun and vaulted over the stone fence. You ran a short distance before you turned around, but James was no longer in the garden. You sighed, glancing at the fading light in the sky. You’d spent more time with James than you’d thought and you needed to get back soon or risk facing the wrath of your father.
“What on earth are you talking about?” Your father sputtered.
“What I said, father. I’ll marry the man whose foot fits into this shoe,” you said dismissively, holding it up nonchalantly.
“That is a peasants shoe! You’ll do nothing but insult our guests by making them try it on!” he raged, glaring at the shoe as though it had just committed high treason.
“If they are not willing to try on a shoe for a chance at the crown, then they are fools,” you said bluntly. “And I promise that if no one fits it, I will choose a suitor anyway.” It pained you to say it, but you knew it was the only way to placate him.
He leaned back in his chair, mouth working dangerously as he bit back an onslaught of unsavory things, mustache twitching violently below his nose. “Fine! If this farce is what it takes you to willingly marry a man, then so be it!” he said, throwing up his hands in exasperation. “Now, go get ready! the guests will be arriving in an hour.”
“By your leave, majesty,” you said, curtsying deeply as you made a hasty exit from his study.
You walked quickly back to your room and opened the doors, expecting to see Wanda, but it was Natasha, instead. You loved Natasha, but Wanda was your favorite lady in waiting. Even though you coached your face back into one of polite neutrality, she’d seen you look of disappointment.
“I know. I’m not Wanda. I’m sorry. She had urgent business to attend to and asked me to fill in for her in helping you get dressed tonight,” she said quietly, motioning to the elegant and intricate blue gown you hadn’t noticed a moment before.
“It’s beautiful!” you said, awestruck.
“Wanda made it for you, specially for tonight. She only finished recently. The second she heard the rumors she sprung into action. She can’t be with you right now in person, but her spirit is here with you anyway,” Natasha said, fondly.
“You’re right, Natasha,” you said, smiling at her. You were always thankful of the way she was able to see the other side of things.
“Now, let’s get you ready for your big night!”
Bucky’s POV
“What took you so long, boy?” Pierce spat as he dismounted.
“Probably singing to all of those stupid animals again,” Brock said venomously as he hopped off his horse.
“Put the horses away and prepare our finest suits immediately. Brock is going to become a prince tonight!” Pierce said proudly, gazing down at his son.
“Yes, father,” Bucky said, quickly following his step father’s orders. The quicker he got them ready the faster they’d leave and he could get himself ready to see Ella again. He was invited to the ball, after all, as an eligible bachelor. He knew he wouldn’t catch the princess’ eye. Not in one of Brock’s older suits that didn’t fit him quite right, but he wouldn’t show up in the rags he wore while he worked. Just for a night he wanted to be a man a beautiful woman like Ella would be proud to be seen with.
As soon as he’d put the horses to pasture he ran into the house, quickly preparing Pierce and Brock’s best suits while they washed up.
Two hours later it was getting dark and the ball was looming closer by the minute. Pierce and Brock were dressed to the nines. Bucky had outdone himself tonight, eager to make them happy so that he might be able to ride with them to the ball. They were waiting downstairs for the carriage to arrive when Bucky came down, dressed as nicely as he could and, for once, mostly devoid of any dirt.
The second Pierce saw him, his face contorted with fury.
“What are you wearing, boy?” he spat. Bucky cringed and froze on the bottom step.
“I- I was hoping I could go to the ball. All the bachelors in the kingd-”
“You’re not going, you imbecile!” Pierce said as he stormed over to him. Bucky didn’t have time to brace himself before his head whipped to the side, cheek stinging from Pierce’s back-handed slap. “The princess would never look at you! You’re an embarrassment to your step-brother!” he raged. To Bucky’s horror, Pierce reached up and ripped the sleeve almost completely off of his dress coat. Pierce wasn’t done though, and Brock cheered on from his spot in the foyer.
“Aww! Little Cinderbucky wanted to go to the ball! How sweet!” he crooned, face twisted with malevolent amusement at the scene in front of him. “But clumsy him! He ripped his jacket!” Brock said, cackling.
Pierce ripped apart the white dress shirt, buttons flying in every direction.
“You’re a fool, boy! You’re lucky we’re in a hurry, or I would teach you another lesson!” he spat, tugging down the left side of the shirt and jacket to reveal the edges of the ugly scars that continued all the way down his arm to the very tips of his fingers. Bucky nearly shook at the threat, but somehow remained standing.
“This house will be spotless by the time we return! And if you ever make another mistake like this again, you’ll be wishing it was only an arm,” Pierce said dangerously, eyes glinting with malice.
“Yes, father. I understand,” he said weakly.
“The carriage is here, father,” Brock said, still staring at Bucky with condescension. “Enjoy your night, Cinderbucky,” he sneered.
As if to add insult to injury, Pierce spat on Bucky before turning to walk to the door.
The second the door was shut, Bucky sank onto the stairs, head in his hands and he tried to hold back the tears. He didn’t hear the door open and only realized there was someone else in the room when a pair of boots appeared in his line of vision.
He looked up, startled, to see a man standing there. His blond hair seemed to almost shine in the light and his eyes were even bluer than Bucky’s.
“We don’t have time for moping, friend. We need to get you all fixed up for the ball,” he said by way of greeting. Bucky looked at the man, bewildered.
“I’m sorry, but… who- who are you?” he asked, nerves frayed from the roller coaster of emotion that was today.
“Hmm… a friend?” the blond man said, smiling down at Bucky as he extended his hand. Bucky looked at it for a moment, unsure, before he took it. “A friend of mine told me about your situation and I just had to help,” he said, patting Bucky comfortingly on the shoulder. “I’m a little upset I couldn’t get to you sooner, but… we mustn’t dwell on the past! Your life is changing, starting today!” he said cheerfully. “Go check upstairs!”
When Bucky didn’t move and simply stared at him, Steve sighed, and made shooing motions. “Go! Hurry up! The ball is starting soon!” Steve said urgently.
The mention of the ball seemed to startle Bucky into action. With one last confused look at the man in front of him, he went upstairs to his tiny room, opening the door slowly in trepidation.
There, in the center of his room, was the single most stunning suit he’d ever seen. The jacket was pure white with silver embroidery. The shirt beneath it was a gorgeous baby blue with the same silver thread as the jacket. The pants were the same snowy color as the jacket with accents that matched the shirt. Shining black knee-high boots completed the outfit; they were so well polished that they shone like glass. It even came with a pair of white gloves.
“Wow…” he murmured, as he walked towards it. He reached out to it, faltering before he touched it, scared it’d disappear as soon as he touched it or that his hand would go straight through it. He didn’t have to try it on to know it would fit him perfectly.
“Yeah, she really did a great job, didn’t she?” said the man from the doorway. Bucky jumped, letting out an undignified yelp of surprise, and turned to face the man.
“This… this is for me?” he asked, pointing to it over his shoulder with his thumb.
“All yours, friend. Now, get changed. We’re short on time,” he said with a smile as he shut Bucky’s door.
Ten minutes later Bucky emerged from his room, marveling at how the suit hugged him in all the right places, accentuating his best features.
The mysterious blond man was waiting at the bottom of the stairs and beamed at Bucky when he appeared at the top of them.
“All ready to go, then?” he asked, admiring his handiwork.
“I… I think so,” Bucky said nervously as he made his way down the stairs, resisting the urge to run his fingers through his hair, which he’d tied into a small ponytail at the back of his neck.
“One second, you’ve got just a bit…” the mystery man muttered, bringing his thumb up to swipe a smudge of dirt off of Bucky’s cheek. “There, perfect. Now, the carriage is outside waiting!”he said, motioning grandly to the doorway.
“Carriage?” Bucky asked, glancing at the doorway.
“What, did you think we’d make you walk there, or something?” the man asked, grinning.
Bucky looked confusedly from the door to the man and back. “Who… are you?”
“Not important, Buck. Now, go get the girl!” he said, giving Bucky a gentle but firm shove towards the door.
Bucky wanted to press him for an answer, but he was right. Time was slipping away. He had to get to that ball.
What he saw when he opened the door made him stop. Not only was there a carriage, it was extravagant. Four white horses pulled the highly decorated thing and there wasn’t just a driver but also two servants on the back, and two more men were waiting just ahead of it on white horses of their own.
This was an entourage fit for a prince or a wealthy lord, not the cleaning wretch of a lesser noble.
One of the servants hopped off the back and lowered the small step built into the underside and opened the door a half second later.
“Your carriage awaits, sir,” he said gesturing grandly to it.
Bucky swallowed nervously, taking a few hesitant steps towards it, expecting any second for his step father and brother to pop out and punish him for his shameless hoping. When he stepped inside and the door shut securely behind him, he breathed out a sigh he didn’t realize he’d been holding in.
With a gentle jolt, the carriage was off towards the royal castle.
Your POV
You sighed as yet another suitor approached your dais.
“Your highness,” the older man began, bowing deeply. “It is an honor to be in your presence. We’re so thankful for your invitation to the ball tonight. Allow me to introduce my son, Brock.”
You thought you’d recognized his voice the moment he started speaking, but the second he said his son’s name your suspicions were confirmed. You tried to fight back the grimace you felt creeping onto your face at their presence.
Brock stepped forward, the sharp lines of his face contorted into a slimy smile. “Princess. You look absolutely stunning. Truly all the stars in the heavens must be jealous of your beauty,” he said unctuously, bowing deeply as he took your hand and placed a sloppy kiss onto your rings.
“Thank you for coming. I take it you’ve heard of my new request?” you said, gently but firmly tugging your hand from his grasp to gesture to the shoe sitting on the cushion beside you. “Any who fit it have the opportunity to dance with me tonight.”
“Yes, of course, highness,” Brock said, bowing his head in acknowledgement. “May I?” he asked, gesturing to the shoe.
“That is why it is there, Rick,” you said, patronizingly. Brock’s smile faltered for a moment at your tone and the fact that you got his name wrong, but to his credit he held it together, sitting down in the provided chair to try on the shoe.
And boy, did he try. He sat there for probably thirty seconds, trying to squeeze his heel into it, but to no avail.
“I do not believe it fits you, sir,” you said pointedly.
Both Brock and his father looked at you, their stubbornness plain on their faces, but one look at the guards standing beside you seemed to change their minds about arguing. Brock set the shoe back down a little harder than he had to and put his own back on. They both bowed deeply, their oily smiles not quite enough to hide the anger behind their eyes.
“Thank you for coming, gentlemen,” you said by way of dismissal, inclining your head slightly to them. They stalked off, straight for the table that held all of the food. It seems they would try to get their revenge by eating half the food in the hall.
“Have someone keep an eye on them,” you told your guard, Steven, surreptitiously, eyeing them coldly.
He nodded. “Understood, princess,” he said quietly, signaling one of your other guards, Clinton, with discreet hand motions to keep an eye on those two. You didn’t know exactly where he was, but you knew he was around somewhere. He was nicknamed Hawkeye for a reason; he worked better from a distance.
You went through countless suitors like that. Some fit the shoe and were added to the list of people you would dance with later in the night, but none of them were James. You hoped he would come. You had Natasha on the lookout for him in the servants’ areas and directed her to send him up immediately if he showed up. As time passed, though, it seemed less and less likely that he would show, and you had to bite back your disappointment.
“Princess,” Steve said softly in your ear, jerking you out of your troubled thoughts. “Look,” he said, pointing to the entrance of the castle on the opposite side of the room from you.
Everyone else in the room was looking, too. Every head was turned to see who had just entered, a wave of whispers breaking out among the crowd.
He was easily the most stunningly handsome man in the room, putting every other man in attendance to shame.
Your heart beat wildly in your chest.
James. It was James. Even from across the hall you could see his bright steel blue eyes searching for you; the servant Ella, not the princess (Y/N). His gaze slid over you as though you weren’t there and you had to fight how much that hurt. He looked divine in his white and blue suit; completely different but just as amazing as the dirty, down-to-earth man you’d met earlier.
“Make sure he comes up here,” you told Steven urgently. Steve nodded, giving your other guard, who everyone affectionately called “Rhodey,” a nod before he disappeared in the swarm of people.
Bucky’s POV
Bucky weaved between the other guests nervously, aware of how many people were staring. He wished they wouldn’t; He was already nervous enough as it was. He was about to sneak out of the main hall when a hand on his arm stopped him.
His gaze snapped to the man attached to said hand and he nearly shouted in surprise. It was the mystery man.
“You!” he said, trying his best not to yell.
“Me!” Steve said jovially, dropping his arm. “Your girl’s not in there, lover boy. And I have to insist that you come with me. Every eligible bachelor must meet the princess today,” he said with a wink.
“But Ella-”
“Trust me, Bucky,” Steve said, earnest smile on his face.
Bucky looked between Steve and the doorway, torn. Steve hadn’t led him wrong before, but meeting the princess would take away from time he could be using to be with Ella.
But it wasn’t every day you got to meet a princess, right? Maybe he’d be able to meet two in one day; Ella was a princess in his eyes.
“Fine,” he conceded. Steve beamed and led Bucky to the far part of the room where the princess was meeting suitors. There was a long line of men waiting for a chance to talk to the princess, but Steve literally shoved Bucky to the front of the line.
Bucky protested weakly, not wanting to offend all of the powerful men in the room, but one look at the princess made the rest of his protests die in his throat.
Even though she was wearing an elegant blue dress and her hair and makeup were done to perfection, there was no mistaking the woman in front of him, even though the last time he saw her she’d been in peasant’s clothing.
“Ella,” he breathed, awestruck at the vision of beauty in front of him.
You were beaming at him, but seemed to remember yourself, coaching your expression back into a slightly more subdued smile. His feet moved of their own accord, stepping up onto the dais upon which your throne sat.
Suddenly remembering etiquette, he stopped just out of your reach, bowing deeply, eyes on the ground. “Your highness,” he said quietly, amazed.
“And you are?” you asked politely. James looked up suddenly, hurt you didn’t recognize him, but you were smiling playfully at him, eyes shining with happiness.
Ah, you did recognize him. “James Buchanan Barnes, princess,” he said, gently taking your hand in his gloved fingers to place a tender kiss on your knuckles. The difference between his kiss and Brock’s was night and day. Your heart fluttered in your chest, and it took everything in you to keep calm.
“Have you heard about the request I’ve made of all of the suitors here tonight?” you asked as he released your hand. You immediately missed his touch.
“No, your highness,” he said, brows furrowed in confusion.
“The man I choose to marry will be able to fit into this shoe,” you said, gesturing to his shoe where it sat on the cushion just a few feet away.
He looked to where you were motioning and when he saw his own shoe sitting there on the pillow it didn’t click right away what was happening.
Then, it hit like a tone of bricks.
He turned back to you, eyes wide in shock. “You mean-”
You held up a hand, gently silencing any questions. “Please, try it on,” you said earnestly, a knowing smile on your lips.
He gulped and took a seat on the opulent chair, removing his right boot carefully.
He’d been wondering where his other shoe had gotten to. He guessed he had his answer now.
He didn’t realize how quiet the room had gotten, too engrossed in the task in front of him. But you and everyone else in the room was watching him closely.
He looked up at you as he slid his shoe on. Although a couple men before him had managed to squeeze it on or walk around without it falling off, it fit him perfectly.
The smile that graced your face was blinding and Bucky couldn’t help but smile back.
“Steven,” you said quietly without taking your eyes off of Bucky.
“Yes, princess?” the blond mystery man said, appearing at your shoulder.
“Alert the musicians. It is time for the first dance,” you said happily. “You may want to put that boot back on,” you said cheekily to Bucky.
“Yes, highness,” Bucky said quickly, smile on his face as he clumsily removed his shoe and tugged the boot back on.
He stood hastily, rushing to your side.
He held his hand out for you to take, nervousness clear on his face.
“I would be honored to have this dance with you, highness,” he said earnestly.
You smiled, taking his hand as you stood. “Please, call me (Y/N),” you said quietly enough that only he could hear. “And it would be my pleasure to dance with you, James.”
He turned a truly adorable shade of pink, nodding slightly. “You can call me Bucky, if you like,” he said as the two of you made your way towards the dance floor.
The guests parted before you, expressions ranging from surprise to anger to awe (you supposed you and Bucky did make a striking pair).
“Bucky, then,” you said fondly as you arrived at the center of the floor and turned to face him. He smiled brilliantly at the sound of his name on your lips.
The music played the prelude and you bowed to each other. You were about to begin dancing when an angry voice rang out in the hall, causing the music to screech to a halt and make everyone’s heads turn towards the source, including yours and Bucky’s.
“You get away from the princess!” Franklin Pierce yelled, storming towards the two of you. Brock trailed after him, face murderous. Bucky placed himself protectively between you and the angry men, but he paled considerably. “I don’t know how on earth you got that outfit, but you won’t defile the princess, swine!” Pierce spat, stomping towards Bucky.
Steve appeared in front of him before he made it within ten steps of you and Bucky, sword drawn and pointed directly at Pierce’s throat. “No closer, sir,” Steve ordered, saying the last word sarcastically.
Pierce looked like he was going to try and deck Steve, but looked past him to level a glare at Bucky.
“You broken piece of garbage. I should have left you to starve after your mother died!”
Buck turned in on himself, shoulder’s and head slumping, and it almost seemed as though he was getting smaller at Pierce’s words. You placed a hand gently on his shoulder, glaring at Pierce.
“Does her highness even know about your disfigurement, you monster?” Pierce asked, malevolent smile on his face.
“Yes, I bet you didn’t show her that, did you, Cinderbucky?” Brock said venomously, sneering down his nose at Bucky.
Bucky glanced behind himself at you, eyes filled with fear and hurt at their words.
“Go on, then. Show her. Show her what you look like under that pretty white jacket!” Brock jeered.
Bucky turned his back on them to face you, eyes dull.
“You don’t have to-”
“Yes, I do,” he said quietly, slowly removing the glove from his left hand. It was better he lose you now than later, he thought.
It was lined with scars from burns and cuts, some looking nearly as old as he was. He rolled his sleeve up as far as it would go, revealing even more angry marks.
“They go up to my shoulder,” he said, tone flat. He was sure you would never look at him again, and he wouldn’t blame you. A beautiful princess like you deserved someone who was as whole and wonderful as you, not some broken, disfigured shell of a man.
He was so engrossed in his thoughts of self hatred that he didn’t realize you were reaching out to touch his arm until your fingers ghosted over the angry, scarred skin. He flinched at the touch, nearly pulling his arm away from you.
“I’m sorry, I should have asked first. Does it hurt?” you asked quietly, eyes swimming with tears. Who would do this to such a kind, gentle man?
He looked at you in confusion. Surely you were crying because of how ugly he was, but your words… your words were kind. Slowly, he shook his head. “Not anymore, highness,” he whispered.
“May I?” you asked, nodding your head towards his arm, fingertips close enough to feel the heat of his skin.
He nodded warily, hope creeping back into his mind unbidden.
Your fingers ghosted over his innumerable scars, a single tear escaping and making a track through your makeup as you contemplated the horrors he likely had to go through to get all of them. He closed his eyes at your gentle touch, a small sigh escaping his lips.
“Did they do this to you?” you asked suddenly. Bucky opened his eyes, meeting your steely gaze.
He swallowed thickly, adam’s apple bobbing nervously. After a moment he nodded, eyes flicking away from you.
Rage ignited inside of you, white hot and all-consuming.
“Steven. Take those ‘guests’ and throw them in the dungeon. I will deal with them later,” you said loudly enough for Steve to hear, gaze never leaving Bucky’s. Bucky looked up at you then, confusion clear on his face.
“Princess-”
“(Y/N),” you corrected him.
He looked at you guiltily. “(Y/N). I… my step father is right. I am a monster. I don’t even deserve to be in your-”
“He is the monster, Bucky,” you said firmly, placing a hand on his left arm gently. The other hand went up to cup his face and he couldn’t help but lean into your touch. “I do not care about the scars you bear. To me, you could not be any more handsome. It is your heart of gold that has swayed me,” you said earnestly, running a thumb over his cheek tenderly.
“Truly?” he asked, barely daring to hope. “You do not mind… this?” he asked, gesturing to his left arm.
You brought his left hand to your lips and placed a gentle kiss to his knuckles, mirroring his actions just a few minutes ago.
“Truly,” you assured him. The smile that graced his face was blinding, making you smile just as widely in return. You vaguely heard Pierce and Brock yelling while they were dragged away by Steve and a couple of other guards, but all of your focus was on the man in front of you. He stared down at you and it was likely only the room full of people (some of whom had pointy metal people-killing sticks) that kept him from embracing you then and there.
The music picked up again, just slightly before it left off, snapping you and Bucky out of that moment.
However, what followed was even better.
He lowered his sleeve but left his glove off and took a half step back, bowing deeply to you, and you curtsied, smile on your lips.
Then, he stepped forward, placing one hand gently on your hip, the other lacing together with your hand. You placed your hand on his shoulder and, just like that, the most magical dance in your entire life started.
The world fell away until it was just him and you on the ballroom floor. Your dress flowed gracefully whenever you spun, mesmerizing every person watching as Bucky expertly guided you around the room. The music swelled and you let out a delighted giggle as he placed both hands around your waist and lifted you in a graceful arc in front of him, earning excited applause from the audience (though you and Bucky didn’t even hear it). As the dance progressed, the space between you lessened until the last few chords of the song rang out and you found yourself pulled to his chest just before he dipped you gracefully backwards, arms holding you securely aloft.
All at once the hall erupted in applause and cheers. Bucky lifted you back upright gently, awestruck smile on his face, as though he couldn’t believe what was happening (he couldn’t). His gaze was momentarily pulled from you by Steve, who was jumping and waving his arms to get Bucky’s attention, just beside you in Bucky’s range of vision.
Once he realized Bucky was looking, he patted his chest frantically in one spot. Bucky raised an eyebrow confused. Steve sighed, slumping over for a half second in annoyance before he straightened again. He pointed to Bucky, then to the same spot on his chest again (this time even more forcefully and… pantomimed pulling something off his chest? Then pointed to Bucky again, eyes wide and frantic. He seemed to be pointing to a specific spot on Bucky’s chest… the same one he’d pointed to on himself.
Bucky looked down. Sure enough, there was a breast pocket on the jacket. With one last confused look to Steve he reached into it, freezing when his hand touched metal.
He looked back at Steve, eyes wide with fear and anxiety. Steve was smiling broadly, giving him an encouraging nod. He could see him mouth the words “do it.”
Bucky looked back at you. The exchange with Steve had lasted a few seconds at most, but for Bucky it felt like it had been minutes. You were still smiling up at him as though he was the moon and stars themselves.
“(Y/N),” he said slowly, causing one of your brows to quirk in question.
“Yes, Bucky?” you asked cautiously, confused by his sudden change in tone.
“Do you believe in love at first sight?” he asked, all caution thrown to the wind. He wore his heart on his sleeve and trusted you not to break it.
You beamed at him, nodding vigorously. “Yes, I do.”
His heart thudded in his chest and he severely hoped he could make you say that word again. Slowly, he sunk to one knee, holding your two hands in one of his large ones. Without taking his eyes off of you, he pulled the ring out of his pocket, inwardly balking at the giant rock set into the center.
“Princess (Y/N), you would make me the luckiest and happiest man alive if you would do me the honor of being my wife,” he said earnestly, eyes alight with hope and adoration.
To his surprise you sunk down in front of him, throwing your arms around his neck.
“Yes! Yes, I will! I will gladly be your wife!” you said, pulling back enough so you could smile at him, happy tears making tracks down your face.
Bucky laughed along with you, happy smile lighting up every inch of the room as he slid the ring onto your finger (it fit perfectly, of course). You smiled at it, then at him, cheeks heating with all of the excitement.
Around you, your people cheered. Their princess was finally getting married.
Then Bucky did the one thing he’d wanted to do since the moment he met you. He pulled you in for a gentle but passionate kiss. It was everything you wanted it to be; your lips melded together perfectly as his arms wound around your waist. Your arms found their way around his shoulders and you lost yourself in his kiss and the feeling of him against you.
“Ahem,” came a stern voice from next to you.
You broke apart, startled, and looked at the newcomer.
“Your majesty!” Bucky said, abruptly standing to bow to your father. His gaze turned back to you, harried, and he quickly helped you to your feet.
“Father!” you said warily. You placed a hand on Bucky’s arm and he slowly straightened up, eyes darting from you to him nervously.
The king studied Bucky critically, eyes narrowed as he took in every detail.
“This is the man you wish to marry?” he asked, voice carefully neutral.
“Yes, father,” you said quickly, reaching down to lace your fingers with Bucky’s. You gave him a reassuring squeeze.
“Your majesty, I wish to marry your daughter. Please-”
The king held up a hand and Bucky’s words quickly died in his throat. He studied the both of you, gaze lingering on your interwoven fingers.
“What is your name?” the king asked coldly.
“James Buchanan Barnes, your majesty,” he said quickly. To his credit, he didn’t quail under the king’s gaze. He stood tall and proud next to you.
The king stared at him for a few moments longer, gaze unreadable. Then, all at once, he let out a great sigh and turned his back on the two of you.
You were about to reach out and stop him, protests on the tip of your tongue, when he spoke again. “Let it be known across the kingdom. In one week’s time, my daughter Princess (Y/full/N) and James Buchanan Barnes shall be wed in holy matrimony!” he proclaimed to the assembled guests.
Immediately, the hall erupted in cheers. It took you and Bucky the same amount of time to process his words, gazes snapping from the king to each other in unison, matching smiles of surprised happiness on your face.
You jumped into his arms and he caught you, spinning you around as you both laughed happily. You kissed him again, knowing now that you would be happy for the rest of your days with him by your side.
Brock paced in front of Darcy, arms crossed, his whole aura screaming frustration. This was a typical Monday for her honestly. Darcy couldn’t remember the last time she’d managed to get through a week without Commander Rumlow pulling her aside for some reason or another (and never a fun reason either, much to her disappointment).
If Darcy were to look a little closer however, she would see that this time was perhaps a little different than the usual complaints she received from him. If she took a moment to actually pay attention, she might have noticed the concern hidden beneath the fury burning in his eyes.
But she was too busy admiring her new accessory to pay attention to what Mr. Jack booted thug was complaining to her about now.
“Darcy. Take. It. Off.” Oh that was right, for the last hour he’d been trying to convince Darcy to part with her new addition.
Darcy was used to blocking out his rants by now, he was always finding some fault that he felt the need to stop her and complain about; her music playing too loud, bright socks not suitable for the workplace, too many kidnapping attempts in a month, blah blah blah.
Rather than pay attention, and be properly chastised like she was sure he intended, most days Darcy’s typical form of defense against his rants would be to instead fall into some rather, definitely not work place suitable, daydreams inspired by his face, and the one … or two times she caught his performances in the gym.
So it wasn’t unusual for her to be distracted enough that she had no idea what he was talking about. But the way he was looking at her now, she recognised as his ’You better answer me, and it better be an answer I like.” face, and so she fell back on muscle memory when she replied.
“No.”
Clearly this was not an answer he liked, but Darcy kind of prided herself on being one of the few people that could get Brock’s face to turn that exact shade of red. Plus, she really wasn’t about to give up her new accessory.
They had bonded. She loved it, and it loved her. It was her precious.
It was only when Brock’s face turned pleading that Darcy started listening again. In all the months they’d worked in the same building, had many many confrontations, never had she seen such a look on his face, especially directed at her.
“I’m serious Darce’, you have no idea what that thing can do, and you do notwant to find out.”
Her new accessory decided to make itself known at that moment, popping up from her head with a soft “mreow”
Careful not to move her head too much less she dislodge the kitten making a home in her curls, Darcy reached up and gave a little scratch to the kitten’s jaw, its answering purr vibrating through her.
“It’s a cat Rumlow, I think I know what it can do.” Her voice was deadpan, and not appreciated if the exasperated look Brock shot her was any indication.
“It’s not a cat Darcy, It’s a Flerken and considering the only other Flerken we know has a thing about eating people maybe you shouldn’t have it on your head.”
Brock looked like he wanted to reach out and take the kitten from her, but was holding back, probably because of the whole ‘eating people’ thing, but still, just in case, Darcy pulled the kitten down into her arms and a more secure hold.
“I’m not stupid Rumlow.” Darcy’s voice has turned hard, finally having had enough of the commanders attitude, his tone, his belief that she would fall in line like a good little soldier would.
But Darcy wasn’t a soldier, and that was the problem.
“I know what he is. I know what he can do, and that’s kind of the point okay?!” Darcy felt something inside her snap at that moment. Everything she’d been holding back over the past few months suddenly rising to the surface, and Brock, standing before her, still looking expectantly at her to give up her kitten, was about to have it all unleashed on him.
“I have had enough. Enough of the constant kidnappings. Of waking up in unknown places, with people who are only too happy to hurt me for information and having to wait and just hope that someone notices I’m missing before the bad guys bring out the tools. I’m so done with not being able to walk down the street without a team of bodyguards following along behind me, complaining about being stuck on ‘babysitter’ duty and how they hope the next time I’m taken, the bad guys keep me.”
Darcy was breathing hard, and she knew at least half of the floor full of Commanders and soldiers alike were now looking over. Probably exchanging money for the bets of ‘When poor little Darcy would finally break down’.
She wasn’t stupid, and she wasn’t deaf. She heard what her bodyguards would say when they thought she wasn’t listening.
But now that she’d started, she couldn’t stop, and seeing Brock soften before her, looking like he wanted nothing more than to reach out and hold her, Darcy instead held her little kitten closer so she didn’t give into the urge to fall into his arms.
“I am tiredof only being able to eat at Shield cafeterias because there’s a chance I could be drugged and stolen away. I’m sick to death of not being able to sleep in my own bed because yet another Hydra goon has smashed out my bedroom window to try and snatch me away And even when I can get to my bed, I can’t sleep anyway because I am scared OKAY?”
Darcy refused to feel shame for her breakdown being witnessed by so many people. Half of this floor was filled with new agents anyway, people hired after Sheildra. After the blip. People who hadn’t been through half as much as she’d had to endure, and she was still standing. So all those onlookers could carry on with their snide jokes and laughter. Maybe she’d get let her flerken have a couple snacks before she left.
“That’s why I have a Flerken, okay Brock? Because I was scared, and Thor is an amazing big brother who brings me gifts like a mini Mjolnir and magical night lights, and a Flerken to protect me. I have Precious because he makes me feel safe.”
Brock looked… heartbroken. There was no other way to describe the look in his eye, even if Darcy didn’t know why he was looking at her like that. Didn’t he find her an annoyance too?
“Darce. I am … I am so sorry. I didn’t know. I just-” Brock apparently had decided words weren’t enough, and instead stepped forward, pulling Darcy into a warm embrace, careful not to crush her little fur baby. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would have- I would have done something. And who were these guards that were saying shit about you? I’ll sort it Darcy, I promise.”
“But why? I thought you didn’t like me either?” Darcy didn’t step back from his embrace, quite happy where she was actually, and Brock seemingly just as happy to keep hold of her, as he tightened his arms around her.
“Uh… wow, I guess I’m worse at this than I thought.” One arm left Darcy as Brock rubbed at the back of his neck sheepishly.
“Worse at what?” If Brock had a problem with Darcy snuggling deeper into his hold, he didn’t say anything.
“I was kind of … trying to flirt?” Brock’s sentence ended in a questioning tone, yet it was enough to pull Darcy out of the haze his cologne had put her in, and she stepped back, looking at him skeptically.
“You were flirting? All those times you complained about my music, saying how you should teach me about real music, or when you said my socks were weird and very ‘me’, or that Italian food is much better tha- Oh my gosh that was flirting?” Darcy was shocked, all those times she thought he’d been getting on her case, driving her crazy enough to rant to Jane for hours afterwards, he’d been trying to flirt?
“Yeah, uh. Not my best I know, but it’s been a while.” Brock’s embarrassed tone was one she’d never heard before.
“Wow you are .. really bad at that.” Darcy couldn’t help but tease. Perhaps it was because she’d just poured out her heart moments ago, but she felt like a weight had lifted from her shoulders. She felt light, and happy, and with this new revelation from Brock, strangely excited.
“Yeah I know.” Brock’s face was turned to the floor now, so he missed the smile growing on Darcy’s face.
“Not the worst though.” At that, Brock snapped his head up to look at her watching him.
“No?” His hopeful tone had Darcy melting a little inside.
Brock took this moment to step closer to her, reaching his hands up and gently taking hold of her arms “You know, if you don’t feel safe at home … you can always stay with me.”
“Whoa there,” Darcy chuckled softly. “How about we go on a date first and see where the night takes us?”
“Yeah?” The smile that spread across Brock’s face distracted Darcy for a moment, but movement in her arms brought her attention back, and reminded her of the little kitten sitting patiently in her arms.
“Yeah, but heads up, Precious is coming with me.”
“Of course. But uh, one question. Precious?” Tilting his head in question, looking more tempting than Darcy felt he had any right to, she was about ready to say ‘forget the date’ and suggest they go straight to his place.
“Cause he’s my precious! … and he kind of looks like smeagol.”
“Oh shit, he does!”
Absolutely fucking adorable. Also for some reason I’m not seeing when.people tag me atm *sigh*
