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delicatebarness · 2 months

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bridges to burn | chapter one

Summary: Struggling with the pressures of the compound, you seek an escape leading to you meeting another not much less like yourself.

Warning: Sexual Tensions and Implied Sex. Smoking. Uncontrolled Powers.

Word Count: 2030

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A/N: Flame on? Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as mine. - B

The first few days at the compound you tried to keep to yourself, barely leaving your room. The weight of your situation, and the simmering tension between Bucky and yourself, kept you in your own head, and you found solace in solitude. Yet, as the days went by, the four grey walls of your room started to feel like you were being locked within The Raft.

The compound was quiet one restless night, and you decided you needed to get outside and fill your lungs with fresh air. The halls were empty as you slipped out of your room, making your way toward the grounds. The cold air of night soothed your flaring skin, a welcomed change from the suffocating indoors.

As you reached a secluded spot near the edge of the property, you pulled out a cigarette. Fishing through your pockets, your frustration grew as you realized you’d forgotten your lighter. Quickly glancing around, you contemplated using your powers, but the fear of losing control held you back.

Suddenly, you heard a soft click behind you. As you turned your hand began glowing as you raised it toward the sound, and you saw a man, not much older than yourself, standing there, his thumb ablaze with a small, controlled flame. He was tall, with a chiseled jawline and an easy, confident grin. He was, clearly, the type of guy who knew exactly how good he looked and wasn’t shy about it.

“Need a light?” he asked, the flame dancing merrily.

You couldn’t help the smile spreading across your face at the unexpected assistance. “Yeah, actually. Thanks–” you said, leaning in to light your cigarette. The tension in your shoulders eased as you took a drag, then exhaled slowly.

“I’m Johny,” he introduced himself, extinguishing the flame with a casual flick of his wrist, “Johnny Storm.”

Recognizing the name, you raised an eyebrow toward him. “Wait, Johnny Storm? As in, The Human Torch, Johnny Storm?”

“The one and only,” he said with a mock bow before shooting you a wink. “And, you must be Stark’s daughter. I’ve heard a bit about you.”

“Yeah, that’s me,” you nodded, your tone filled with annoyance. “I’m still getting used to this place, and just needed some fresh air.”

Leaning against a nearby tree, Johnny's posture relaxed. “I get that. This place can be a lot. Especially with all the… expectations.”

“Tell me about it,” you muttered, taking another drag. “It feels like I’ve been under a microscope since I got here.”

Johnny nodded sympathetically. “It’s not easy being part of a team, especially when everyone is watching your every move,” he paused, sending you a knowing look. “But, it’s not all bad, just gotta find your own rhythm.”

Appreciating his straightforwardness, you chuckled slightly. “It’s just… I’ve never been known for playing by the rules.”

“Rules are overrated,” he replied, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Sometimes you’ve got to break a few to get where you’re going.”

You smiled, and a feeling of ease coursed through your body. “I think I’m going to like you, Flame Boy.”

He flashed that grin again, his gaze wandering over your figure, lingering a moment longer. “The feeling’s mutual, Firecracker,” he said with a playful smirk. “And by the way… you’re hot.”

You rolled your eyes, taking his comment in stride. “Was that supposed to be a compliment, or are you just making a play on this?” Smirking, you let your irises begin to shift, their usual coloring draining away as they ignited into a fiery, glowing orange.

Johnny’s smirk only widened as he witnessed the transformation in your eyes. “Oh, I definitely meant it as a compliment,” he said, a notch dropping in his voice. Taking a step closer, his played demeanor added a new edge of curiosity. “I bet you’re full of surprises, Firecracker.”

You smirked, and Johnny’s eyes lingered on your glowing irises for another moment, intrigued. “Well, it has been a pleasure, but I should probably get back before Reed sends out another search party,” he quipped, flashing that grin once more.

With a wink, Johnny stepped back, his hands raising in a casual wave. “Flame one!” he called, and instantly his body ignited in a brilliant, controlled blaze. The heat radiating from him would have been intense if you weren’t already accustomed to it. You watched in awe as the flame flickered and danced around him like they had a life of their own. Shooting into the air, he left a trail of fire as he soared back toward the compound, the fiery streak cut through the dark sky.

As you continued to watch him disappear into the night, a voice from the shadows startled you.

“He’s an idiot,” the low, gravelly voice of Bucky cut through the quiet, causing your entire body to flinch slightly.

Turning sharply to see him stepping out from behind a tree, you snapped, “What the fuck is wrong with you?” The smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, revealed by the dim light of the compound, illuminating his features.

“I’m doing my job, babysitting a dumb little princess,” Bucky replied, his tone dry and laced with sarcasm. For a moment, his eyes flicked down to the cigarette in your hand, and his expression changed, now holding disapproval in his features. “Shouldn’t smoke: Bad for your lungs.”

The tension simmered just below the surface as you narrowed your eyes at him. “Good job they repair themselves then, isn’t it?” you shot back, defiance edged in your voice.

“Are you always so quick to talk back?” he asked, eyebrow raised, clearly unimpressed but slightly amused.

“It comes with the surname,” you retorted, the glow in your eyes beginning to fade as you lifted your chin in defiance.

Bucky took a step closer, hardening his expression. “When Stark said I’d be babysitting, I figured a quiet, sweet kid, not… whatever you are,” he smirked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Ouch,” you replied with an exaggerated wince, feigning a hurt expression. “You really know how to make a girl feel special, and here I thought we were bonding.”

Tilting his head slightly, Bucky’s gaze unwavering. “I should have known Stark couldn’t produce anything but a little brat.”

“Hey,” you snapped, your temper beginning to flare as you took a step closer to him, almost closing the distance between you. “You haven’t earned the right to call me that yet.”

“Yet?” Bucky echoed, his smirk growing as a challenge flashed in his eyes.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the tensions locked you in a silent battle of wills. Neither one of you was backing down, your eyes daring each other to make the next move.

Bucky’s gaze was intense, his eyes searching deeply into yours as if trying to figure you out. Finally, he broke the silence, his voice low and filled with annoyance. “Just stay out of trouble, Princess. I’m not here to play games.”

“Please,” you let out a short laugh, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms over your chest. “If anyone’s trouble around here, it’s you… Winter Soldier.”

His smirk returned, this time more amused than before. “At least I know what I'm doing. You? You’re a walking hazard waiting to happen.”

You couldn’t let him see that his words stung more than you’d like to admit. Your heart pounded against your chest, and you couldn’t place the tightening in your throat. The space between you dwindled to almost nothing as the frustration bubbled up within you, threatening to spill.

“You don’t know a damn thing about me,” you hissed, your voice remaining steady despite the storm brewing inside you. You managed to keep your composure, refusing to let him see you rattled.

His face was mere inches from yours, his proximity caused you to feel his breath against your skin, and his voice was low, almost a growl. “I don’t have to know you to see what’s right in front of me,” he replied, his tone cold and unyielding.

His words lingered, sharp and cutting, leaving you torn. For another moment, you stood there, breathing beginning to pick up pace and eyes locked in a fierce stare. But, something shifted in Bucky’s gaze– a flicker of something softer. His jaw tightened as he broke the stare, glancing away toward the compound.

“Look,” he muttered, his voice gruff and lacking the earlier bite. “I’m not here to make your life hell. I just… I’ve seen what happens when people are careless. I don’t want that for you.”

Surprised, your defenses faltered for a brief second. Shaking your head, you quickly rebuilt them, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing he had gotten through to you, even if for a second.

“I can take care of myself,” you scoffed. “I’ve been doing it for a long time.”

Carrying a weight, heavier than either of you would admit, the words hung between you. Creating a distance, Bucky turned, stepping back, a relieving yet strangely disorienting feeling rushed through your body.

“Just… be careful,” he said over his shoulder, his voice almost reluctant. Before waiting for a response, Bucky walked back off into the shadows, leaving you standing, the night feeling colder than ever before.

Your mind raced with everything that had just happened, and for a moment longer, you stood there, staring after him. And, the more you thought about the conversation, the more frustrated you became.

Then, with a sigh, you stomped out your cigarette, embers hissing as they met the ground. Your thoughts churned as you turned on your heel and made your way back to the compound.

Back inside the compound, the halls remained quiet as you wandered back to your room, your mind replaying the confrontation with Bucky. Wrapped up in your thoughts, you didn’t notice the large figure leaning against the wall until you almost walked into him.

“Woah there, Firecracker,” the playful voice of Johnny snapped you out of your daze. Stopping short, you looked up to see his grin, the same one that had begun etching itself into your memory.

“J-Johnny,” you shuttered, more of a surprise than anything else.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he quipped, his eyes sparking with mischief before sending you a wink. “What’s got you so deep in thought? Looked like you were about to walk right through me.”

For a moment, you hesitated, but then you shook your head, deciding to not burden him with the Bucky situation. “Nothing I can’t handle,” you replied, forcing a smirk across your lips, matching his energy.

Clearly unconvinced, Johnny raised an eyebrow but did not press further. Instead, pushed his body off the wall and took a step closer, his gaze scanned your face as if he was trying to read what you weren’t saying.

“Well… if you’re ever looking for a distraction,” he began, his tone dropping to something slightly more serious. “I’d be more than happy to oblige.”

You couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at your lips, grow. There was something about Johnny that made it hard to stay angry but also, made you want to release all that fury and chaos swirling within you, out on him.

“Is that right?” you teased, your eyes meeting his, an unspoken understanding charging the air between you.

“Absolutely,” Johnny replied in a low voice, his once playful manner giving way to something more intense. “So, what do you say, Firecracker? Wanna blow off some steam?”

You felt your heart skip a beat, but the double meaning in his words did not get lost on you. And, without fully thinking it through, you grabbed Johnny by the front of his suit, pulling him closer.

“Come on, Flame Boy,” you murmured, your voice low and barely a whisper. “I’ve got just the place.”

Without waiting for his response, you led him through the halls toward your room. His surprise quickly morphed into anticipation as he followed. Then, when you reached your door, you pushed it open and pulled the man inside with you.

Right then, you didn’t want to think. Not about Bucky, the compound, nor the weight of your own existence. Just the fire, and the heat.

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supercap2319 · 2 months

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This is Bucky's wet dream right here. Seeing his punk all rugged and tough, with a variant that's equally as rugged and tough.

#stucky #steve rogers x bucky barnes #steve rogers #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #captain america #winter soldier #Captain America x Winter Soldier #johnny storm #the human torch #chris evans #sebastian stan #evanstan #fantastic four

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buckyscap · 2 months

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is there a fic of bucky meeting johnny storm bc i love the idea of his horrified face after realizing the steve in front of him is not even steve at all the moment johnny opened his mouth to spew the filthiest, vilest insult he's ever heard in his life, which is a lot coming from someone who was in the military 80 years ago and sure, steve does curse sometimes but none of them are even close to what this foul-mouthed kid are saying.

also, can you imagine the heart palpitations he had once johnny turns into fire like he'd have nightmares about it for days because johnny has steve's face and he's on fire and when he meets his steve he's like

bucky: jesus christ, steve, he lit himself on fire!

steve: oh.. i'm sorry buck, that must've been horrible

bucky: no, no, that's like his thing he can turn himself into fire. but yes, that was horrible, god

#he told sam abt this and the guy was all oohhhohoho i wanna meet this johnny kid #bucky barnes #johnny storm #steve rogers #stucky #the winter soldier #captain america #the human torch #fantastic four #the avengers #may or may not be referencing to deadpool and wolverine

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purple-babygirl · 5 months

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in the far corner of the forest III

Pairing: Orc!Bucky Barnes x human!f!reader

Word Count: 6,540

Summary: For the longest time, the kingdom has used Bucky as their number one fighter, forcing him to win their wars for them. The only thing he asked for in return after he was done was that they give him a wife, and they did. They handed him the orphan he picked on a silver platter; it wasn't like anyone would miss her. It would've been perfect if she actually wanted to be there though.

Warnings: hand injury, mentions of blood, wound sutures/stitches, angry behaviour, jealousy, fighting, crying, racism against orcs. I think that's all.

A/N: this is the longest part yet because it might take me a while with part 4 depending on how the very important interview i have on the 17th goes. please send me good wishes on the stars if possible i would really appreciate it. And please enjoy this one and let me know what you thought if you can xx💜💜

“I got you something, little human,” Bucky said, his tone softer than it was that same afternoon as he scratched the back of his head.

He was new to courting, and it wasn’t exactly normal that he was courting his already-wife. Still, he was doing everything possible.

Bucky’s life has all been about fighting and wars. He didn’t do love or courtship. He didn’t do coddling or romancing. But there was a first time for everything and he was trying his best.

“Thank you,” she replied without looking up, pretending to be focused on folding laundry.

She was ignoring him.

Bucky had let his voice get loud a couple of hours ago after he had found her lost in the forest again. Only this time her foot was already messed up and she needed the rest, but she wouldn’t listen.

It hurt him how much pain she was willing to go through if it meant she could get away from him, but he wouldn’t let it show.

Instead, he yelled in frustration as he brought her back to their cottage.

She seemed like she wouldn’t quit, and so he wasn’t going to quit either.

Despite her constant rejection, Bucky refused to give up, his determination fueled by a newfound sense of purpose. He was willing to endure anything, face anything, if it meant earning even a glimmer of acceptance, or even affection, from her.

“You didn’t even see what I got you,” Bucky tried again, hoping she would at least look at him.

When she did, he gave a tiny smile and walked to the cottage door, bringing something inside.

“Here.” He dragged in a shiny wooden chair and placed it before his on their small dining table.

“You bought me a chair,” she said, pretending to be uninterested to hide the warmth that just spread throughout her heart.

“I made you a chair,” Bucky corrected, proudly palming the smooth wood, swiping his tongue over his tusks.

Bucky knew gifts were an essential part of courting and he didn’t like how she had to eat on the bed while he ate alone on the dining table because he only owned one chair.

He knew his days as a loner were long gone and it made his heart swell that he had her to share his house and life with now.

So he got to work and decided to make her her own chair out of an old oak tree. Being a lumberjack who had a woodworking shop had its perks after all.

It was going to be a weekend surprise, but he thought now was better timing after the fight they just had.

“You— you made this? From scratch?” She stood up in surprise, laundry forgotten for now.

“Yes.”

“For me?” She asked, not able to hide her emotions at the kind gesture anymore.

“Yeah,” Bucky chuckled, taking a step back so she could examine the chair.

She sat down and a big smile found its way on her lips when she looked up at Bucky. The chair was comfy and new and hers.

No one has ever gotten her anything, let alone made her something so beautiful. It was so special and a flood of emotions washed over her at the idea that someone had actually thought of her enough to make her a chair. That Bucky had made her a chair.

“Thank you,” she whispered, breaking eye contact so that she wouldn’t tear up.

Bucky only nodded in reply, internally celebrating the win with his heart doing backflips. She liked the chair.

She stood up and closed the small distance between her and the orc, getting on her tiptoes to press a quick kiss to his cheek, “welcome home.”

She quickly put the clean laundry in its place in the closet and went to the kitchen to start dinner, leaving Bucky with the most idiotic smile on his face as he shifted back and forth on his feet like a teenager.

She was punishing him for yelling at her by not making dinner, but that chair and the effort behind it deserved a good meal.

She was cleaning up after dinner later that night when she heard Bucky moving stuff outside. She didn’t pay it much mind; it was his house after all.

“Come outside, little human,” his voice called for her and she tentatively stepped out of the kitchen.

Bucky was standing by the open cottage door, a hopeful smile on his face as he encouragingly nodded for her to come over to him.

She didn’t know what to think, but any chance not to stay cooped up inside the cottage was going to receive a yes from her.

It wasn’t like she was ungrateful. She was certainly thankful she had a roof over her head and warm walls that she could hide inside from the rain and the cold.

But again, her situation wasn’t the most ideal either. If it was up to her, she would have stayed at the orphanage with the rest of the girls because if her fate was drawn for her to be an isolated orc’s wife, she didn’t want to be married.

When she stepped outside, however, marriage and Bucky didn’t seem that bad for a second.

“I thought we could watch the stars now that the sky was clear,” Bucky explained, internally nervous that she might call him ridiculous and refuse to sit with him.

He had waited for a day without rain and laid out a thick blanket on the ground before their cottage, the way lit for her feet by a close by lantern he had put out.

She was enthralled, mouth open and breath stolen. Tears welled up in her eyes, a mixture of joy and disbelief engulfing her.

Bucky has even went as far as bringing out the shawl he had gotten her just in case she felt cold.

It was just like… a date.

Her heart raced and she smiled shyly at the orc, making him smile too as he watched her sit down on the blanket, holding her knees to her as she glanced up at the night sky nervously.

She has never been on a date before in her life, the town’s boys always picking other girls from the orphanage to fool around with, but never her. She was never really anyone’s type.

She slightly shook her head to shut down her insecure thoughts, knowing that none of those player town boys could have ever brought her on a date like this.

“Is the ground too cold?” Bucky asked as he draped her shawl over her shoulders.

She hugged the soft material around her body, smiling gratefully at the orc as she shook her head.

She was too shy to even speak at this point, her mind barely registering the amazingly romantic end to her day that Bucky had brought into existence.

Bucky then laid down on his back, wordlessly urging her to do the same.

She got on her back, eyes mesmerized by the sight of the stars. She has never seen so many before, her view from her room’s window at the orphanage was very limited.

It was different here in the middle of the woods because there were no town lights to take the view away from the sky and it was gorgeous.

“So beautiful,” she whispered with a smile, observing how the stars sparkled above them.

“Yes, the most beautiful,” Bucky whispered back, watching her as she watched the sky.

He wished she could one day look at him the same way she was looking at those stars; the same way he was looking at her.

In his eyes, there was a mix of determination and yearning, reflecting his unwavering commitment to win her heart despite her initial reluctance. Bucky’s gaze lingered on her, drinking in every detail as if he couldn’t believe she was really here, right next to him.

She turned her eyes to him, her shy smile widening, “thank you for this, Bucky.”

Gods, the way she said his name was something else.

“You’re welcome, sweet thing.” Bucky smiled back, turning his eyes back to the sky as to not make her uncomfortable under his stare.

As they silently continued stargazing, she felt her heart become lighter. She felt so serene, so content, and she had suddenly forgiven Bucky for raising his voice at her just hours ago, wanting nothing but for this peacefulness to last for as long as possible.

Was it imaginable for marriage to be this good? Could her life finally be turning around?

She couldn’t help but want to see Bucky in a different light in this very moment.

She knew that he was harsh sometimes, but she also knew that she wasn’t making it easy for him either.

Maybe she didn’t choose him and didn’t choose this marriage, but Bucky was trying with real effort and she wasn’t blind to it.

Bucky cared for her when she was sick. He provided for her. He brought her gifts, filled up her half of the closet for her with anything and everything she could need. And he, most importantly, apologized when he was in the wrong, which wasn’t something common for the human males of this kingdom. He also respected her boundaries and hadn’t tried touching her after their first night together.

Could this all be preparation for the purpose of bedding?

No, it couldn’t be. Bucky didn’t need to do this to get her in his bed. He had already had her there and he had willingly let her go. He could have his way with her anytime if he really wanted to.

She wanted to believe that this moment was real so bad. She wanted to believe that Bucky was trying to win her heart.

So she did.

And if Bucky was trying, she was going to start trying too.

She knew just the thing to do actually.

She was going to make Bucky strawberry jam tomorrow to show him how grateful she was.

She might have not much to offer, but she knew she made the most delicious fruit jams and marmalades. It was her specialty at the orphanage. All the other girls always managed to ruin the jams, adding too much or too little sugar, applying too much heat or not enough, eventually producing something inedible. But not her. No, that was one thing she knew with her whole heart that she was good at.

She might’ve not been the prettiest of the girls, but she deserved a good life and she was now determined to build one. With Bucky.

She wasn’t in love with him, she knew that, but she didn’t need love to have a good marriage. Respect and effort were going to be enough.

This marriage could be her chance at building a life worth living.

“Could you bring home some strawberries tomorrow?”

“Oh my gods, this is amazing!” Bucky exclaimed, sliding another spoonful of strawberry jam in his mouth.

“I’m happy you like it,” she replied proudly, a smile plastered on her timid features as she brought a basket of sliced bread to the table.

It felt so good to have someone other than the orphanage girls taste her hand’s making. Receiving Bucky’s praise felt so much different than all the compliments she’s ever received before.

It felt… way better.

“It’s really good, little human.” Bucky was too busy adding jam on the piece of bread in his hand, groaning as he slipped it into his mouth and chewed, “how much of this did you make?”

She laughed, “well, I wanted to start with a small pot because I didn’t know if you liked jam and I didn’t wanna throw out any of it, but we have enough if you finish this and want more!”

“None of this is getting thrown out, little human,” Bucky told her seriously, “I asked because I wanted to take some to Sarah. She has a sweet tooth and she would love this.”

A frown quickly replaced her smile at the mention of another female’s name. She suddenly felt like wanting to take the bowl of jam away from the orc. Hell, she felt like she wanted to get back the jam he had already ate and swallowed.

“Who’s Sarah?” She asked, trying to act nonchalant as she greased her bread with some jam.

“She’s Sam’s sister,” Bucky answered innocently, oblivious to the way she hummed with her jaw clenched.

“And who’s Sam?”

“Oh, right, you don’t know Sam. He’s my best friend; and my partner in the shop. Great guy,” Bucky told her, more interested in the jam than her reaction.

At least Sam was a male.

So just to be clear, Bucky wanted to take the jam she made to his best friend’s sister so she could have a taste and satisfy her sweet tooth? Yeah, she didn’t like that very much.

“Is she, like, married?” She wondered, trying hard not to show her anger.

“Who?” Bucky asked, chewing the bite in his mouth, the foreign question finally gaining his attention.

“Sweet tooth Sarah,” she answered with a somewhat bitter tone that Bucky has never heard before, her thumb swiping under his plump lips before she could stop herself as she harshly wiped away jam from the orc’s face.

The realization as to why her mood had suddenly turned sour made Bucky smile as he hurriedly swallowed his food, “little human,”

She looked up at him with a silent glare.

Despite her efforts to appear unaffected, there was a vulnerability in her eyes, a hint of insecurity betraying her true feelings

“Are you… jealous?”

Bucky’s amused smile made her even angrier as she watched his lips literally twitching.

Jealous? Pfft, of course not! Why would she be jealous!

“No!” She replied aloud defensively, “it was just a question.” She stood up, collecting the plates from the table without asking if Bucky was done eating.

“Hey, that’s mine!” Bucky laughed, holding onto the small bowl of jam.

“Try to save some for your Sarah,” she snapped, snatching her hand from the orc’s as she let him have the bowl.

Bucky raised an eyebrow at her surprising reaction, his widening smile still glued to his face.

She frustratingly sped to the kitchen, violently twisting the water tab open as she rolled her sleeves up and started washing the things in the sink.

She had went through all this trouble and used all of these bowls that she now had to wash just for him to want to take her jam to another female to eat.

Who did he think he was?

It was her fault for trying to do something nice in the first place.

He didn’t even answer her question, and that Sarah was probably unmarried. She was probably an orc too. Yeah, it made sense that Bucky would be attracted to someone similar to him. Those two ‘friends’ were probably part of his clan.

The clan he never introduced her to.

How naive was she to think this marriage could actually work?

Bucky was outside still smiling to himself like a fool as he finished the rest of her sweet jam.

She was jealous. She was jealous over him.

He didn’t want to upset her though, so he didn’t say anything, letting her calm down first.

He took the empty bowl to her, setting it in the sink as she avoided looking at him.

She heard him chuckle as he left the kitchen and it made her punch the sponge in her hand inside the bowl, pounding it angrily as she ‘washed’ it clean.

When she was done cleaning the kitchen and brushing her teeth, she stomped out to the bed, getting in and covering herself from head to toe as she gave Bucky her back.

Bucky walked to the lanterns and dimmed their lights before joining her in bed.

He laid on his back, innocently waiting for his good night’s kiss.

A minute passed. 2 minutes. 5 minutes. The kiss didn’t come.

“Hey,” Bucky whispered as not to startle her in the dark, “we had a deal. Where’s my kiss?” He put a hopeful hand on her shoulder, trying to twist her to face him.

“Have Sarah give you your kiss,” she replied with a deadpan tone, masking her fury as she pushed her pillow over her head, shrugging Bucky’s touch off her body.

Bucky stared at the back turned to him with an open mouth as he took his hand away and laid back, disappointment replacing his surprise and filling him up.

It was the first time since she had started feeling well again that she has refused to give him any of his kisses. Yet, respectful of her feelings, Bucky let her.

Maybe making her jealous wasn’t all that fun after all. But he didn’t even mean to make her jealous, he was just talking!

Bucky sighed, turning on his side as well as he fell asleep staring at the hidden back of her head.

The next morning as she put his breakfast on the table, she didn’t sit or eat with him, preferring to scrub the kitchen sink while Bucky ate even though she had just washed it the night before.

She didn’t give him his good morning kiss either; didn’t even speak to him.

She was still mad at him. This was serious for her, he realized.

Bucky might have found it fun last night, but today as she deliberately ignored his existence, he wanted nothing but to make her understand that what was in her head was nothing like the truth.

“Here, I packed jam for your sweet tooth Sarah,” she said harshly as she set a small jar of strawberry jam on the table before him.

“She’s not my—”

“Hope she likes it,” she cut him off, disappearing into the kitchen again.

Bucky sighed aloud, running a hand over his face as he stood up. Grabbing the jam, he took one look at the kitchen entrance before leaving the house for work with a clenched jaw.

She peeked outside when she heard the door shut to see the table empty. Bucky had taken the jar to Sarah.

Oh, that was it.

She could take being given to an orc against her will. She could take never having been chosen or given the chance to choose. She could take not being loved.

But she couldn’t and wouldn’t take being cheated on.

Was that why Bucky had decided to relieve her off her wifely duties in bed? Because he had another female? Was it because he had someone else to keep him warm and wet where he needed to be?

She couldn’t even think about the idea without feeling herself gag.

Why would he ruin her life by bringing her here when he already had that Sarah?!

How could she be so dumb, trying to meet him in the middle like that? Starting a peaceful life with this orc was never going to work!

She tried to pick the lock on the door like she usually would, but the new lock Bucky had put in wouldn’t budge.

She groaned in frustration before hauling herself up and out of the cottage window, running off to gods know where, hoping that luck would be her friend for once and maybe lead her somewhere out of these woods for good this time.

This marriage ends today.

Back at the shop, Bucky was as exasperated as they come as he used his chisel to shape the rough piece of wood in his hand.

After everything he was doing, how could she think that he had someone else? What was he doing wrong? What was missing?

Bucky had only ever wanted her. He thought he was the luckiest orc just because he got to fall asleep next to her every night.

How could he make her see that?

As his mind ran with thoughts and before Bucky could stop it, the chisel slipped and sharply cut the inside of his palm.

“Gods, fuck!” He shouted in pain as blood started flowing from the fresh wound.

Bucky tried to get the chisel from the floor so that no one would step on it, but his hand hurt more when he tried to squeeze his fist around the item. He grabbed it with his metal hand instead, rushing to the supply closet to find a clean towel to wrap around his cut.

He couldn’t continue working like that; couldn’t do anything with his hand.

Sam insisted on sending for his sister after seeing the amount of blood staining the cloth around Bucky’s hand.

Sarah tried to be efficient while messily stitching the wound as best as she could, wrapping it up carefully with gauze before advising Bucky to take a few days off work until his hand was healed. She was no doctor but she did her best for her friend.

Bucky thanked both siblings, giving Sarah the jam jar before leaving to go back home as his friends insisted.

He thought that his day couldn’t get any worse, but then he opened the cottage door to find the place empty and he could all but forget about his injury as he slammed his fist against the wall, crying out in anger. If his wound had started bleeding again, Bucky didn’t care.

“What the hell did you think you were doing out there again?!”

Bucky was enraged. He had found her wandering around the forest, as lost and as stubborn as ever.

“Getting as far away from you as possible.” She crossed her arms, her stare upset and unbending.

“And going where exactly!” He shouted, the idea of her spending the night inside a cold cave clawing at his back.

“Anywhere but here!” She yelled back, her face so hot she could feel sweat forming on her hairline in the middle of winter.

“It’s going to snow soon! Do you wanna get sick again?” Bucky held her by the arm, not too roughly as he didn’t really want to cause any real damage.

Neither of them noticed his blood staining her clothes.

She was too infuriated to notice Bucky’s hand wrapped in gauze. She saw nothing but red.

“I don’t care. I just don’t wanna be with you!” She retorted, snatching her arm out of his hold and pushing at his chest.

Though he didn’t move, her touch too weak to do anything to his colossal body, Bucky was hurt.

“Are you doing all of this just because of a little jealousy? Gods, human females are just—” Bucky shook his head in frustration.

“Jealousy? Hah! You think I’m jealous?” She faked a laugh, “this is not even a real marriage! What’s there for me to be jealous over?!” She continued raising her voice, the mention of her jealousy provoking her further.

Her words hurt Bucky more, the real gash now slashed across his heart.

Not even a real marriage.

Despite everything he was doing and trying, she still didn’t consider their marriage a real marriage.

“Well, do you wanna make it real, little human?” Bucky growled lowly, bringing her closer to his heaving chest by her arm, painting the sleeve of her dress in more of his blood.

Her heart thrummed in her ears at the proximity, her breath trembling as she imagined what the orc could do to her if he only wanted to.

“Let go of me,” she whispered as tears clouded her vision, hoping he wouldn’t be able to hear how scared she was in her voice.

Bucky complied, hating how nervous she got in the span of a second.

She ran to the kitchen at once, a hand on her chest as she felt her heart trying to escape her ribcage.

What an audacious orc! He was already with someone else and he dared threaten her with taking her to bed?! Damn, she was so stupid to think they could make something good out of this marriage. So stupid.

Bucky took a seat on the bed, face in his metal hand as he tried to gather his thoughts.

He had almost lost her for the millionth time today.

Was it going to be like this forever? What could he do to make it stop? How could he show her that this life with her was all he ever wanted? That he never wanted anybody else?

“You’re not gonna eat with me?” He asked when he saw her slam one bowl of rice on the table.

“I’m not hungry,” she replied curtly, her eyes on the ground and her jaw tense as she waited for him to get off the bed.

Bucky moved away understandably, taking a seat on the dining table instead as she climbed in bed, burying herself under the covers and hiding away from him.

Bucky knew she wasn’t asleep and he needed to talk to her; or at least see her face.

How was he supposed to have an appetite to eat if she wasn’t on the table with him, her beautiful eyes facing him and her shy smile greeting him every time he would moan over the taste of her delicious food?

“Hey.”

She felt the bed dip next to her as it took on Bucky’s body, his warm hand on her shoulder just like last night.

“Let your sweet tooth Sarah give you a kiss,” she spoke before he could say anything.

“This is not about the kiss. And She’s not my Sarah,” Bucky told her, turning her on her back so she could see his sincere face and hopefully believe him, “she’s not my anything. She’s just a good friend.”

She snorted, not buying it as she turned back to face the wall.

Bucky brought her back to him again, “she’s not married. She’s a widow, who is loyal to the memory of her husband, with two kids that are her whole world.” Bucky answered her earlier question, not wanting to hide anything from her.

“That’s none of my business.” She pretended to be uninterested, giving him the cold shoulder for the third time as she turned away, covering her head with the blanket.

Deep inside, she knew she was relieved to know that Sarah wasn’t interested though.

“It is your business,” Bucky sighed, taking the blanket away from her hands, making her look at him again, “it is your business when you think I’m involved with her.”

“You can do whatever you want.” She shrugged, acting indifferent, making Bucky more frustrated.

He released a loud exhale, “you’re what I want, little human.”

She remained silent, not expecting the orc’s patience or this admittance.

He had told her he wanted her before, but that was on their ‘wedding night’ when he had forced her to get completely naked for him.

This one was different. It sounded different and felt different.

“You don’t have to say all these things. We both know how this marriage came to be a thing.” She tried her best to hold her tears in.

“How did it come to be a thing?” Bucky wanted to see inside her head.

“How?” She sat up, her voice loud yet wobbly with emotions, “they gave you an orphaned girl you didn’t get to see or pick beforehand to make up for making you go to war for them, that’s how!” She felt bad for him, but even more for herself.

So she had read the contracts.

“Who told you I didn’t get to see or pick you?” Bucky swallowed.

“What do you mean?!”

“I’ve seen you before, little human. More than once. And I asked for you to be my wife instead of the noble man’s daughter I was originally offered.” Bucky came clean about the truth behind their arranged marriage.

“You what?!” She became even angrier.

He did this? She was here now because of him?!

“I willingly picked you, little human.”

“Why! Why me! Did you ever stop to think that I might not want this? Or you?!” She practically screamed in anger.

Who was he to decide her future for her? Why didn’t he just take the nobleman’s daughter!

“I did. But you were the only human female who has ever caught my attention. I couldn’t take my eyes off you every time I won a glimpse.” Bucky confessed, his light grey skin gaining a tint at the cheeks as he bared his heart to her, “I knew I couldn’t continue if I didn’t have you, little human.”

Won a glimpse

Couldn’t continue if I didn’t have you

No one has ever used such words to describe an act so normal as looking at her. No one had ever wanted or needed her. Why was her heartbeat speeding up? What was that orc doing to her?

“The minute you entered my cottage, you became my one and only. I don’t want anyone but you.” He promised, squeezing her smaller hand in his, “I will live and die loyal to you, little human.”

She knew he was telling the truth because she had heard the stories. Loyalty was very important to orcs and their mates were for life.

She just stared at Bucky, words stolen from her throat by the way he was looking at her.

No one has ever looked at her like that. Like she was the most beautiful thing they could see. Like she was the only girl in the world. Like she was the only one with any sort of control over this orc’s mind and heart.

“When I suggested gifting Sarah some jam, I was only thinking of doing something nice for a friend.”

She listened with a frown, a little angry again at the mention of the other female’s name.

“If it wasn’t for Sam and Sarah and the boys, I wouldn’t have survived a lot of things. They are my only friends and the only ones I can share nice things with.”

“The only ones?” She pouted, turning her face to the dining table in discontent.

“That’s not what I meant! I just— I’m not used to saying such things, but—” Bucky took a deep breath, squeezing her smaller hand closer, “I was so proud of you being my wife and knowing how to make such delicious things that I wanted the important ones in my life to share it with me…”

Bucky didn’t have to know, but those words were everything to her because when she thought about it, no one has ever been proud to know or have her. No one has ever been proud of her for anything.

But Bucky was, and he wanted to show her off.

When she looked back at the orc, he was staring at the blanket covering her thighs, doubtful to meet her gaze.

Bucky looked… nervous, if you will.

She smiled, eyes tearing up despite herself as she waited for him to look back at her.

When he did, Bucky was instantly smiling back at the sight of her grin. That smile was the whole world for him; it sent him up on cloud nine.

“Have dinner with me?” He asked, his metal thumb wiping away a stray tear from the corner of her eye.

She nodded, her smile bigger as she got up and walked to the kitchen to make herself a plate, her heart going a hundred miles per minute as she couldn’t make her smile leave her face.

She wanted to be angrier over the fact that he got to choose and she didn’t, but then again, if she was being honest with herself, she probably could have never dreamt up a husband as good as Bucky was to her if she tried.

She believed that everything happened for a reason and she was too dreamy not to imagine that this whole marriage had to happen exactly the way it did just for her to meet this orc, and maybe, against all odds, have her happy ending with him.

Taking the lid off of the rice pot, she finally saw it: her palm covered in fresh blood.

“Oh gods!” She quickly washed her hand under the water, seeing and feeling no injuries, the realization that it must be Bucky’s blood sent a pang to her chest.

“Bucky?” Tears blurred her vision as she found the orc in the bathroom, trying and failing to remove the wrapping around his right palm with his left one.

She had been forced into this marriage, a union she never agreed to, but as she watched him struggle to tend to his wound, something inside her softened.

How did she not notice that he had come home with a covered up hand?

“Are you okay?!” Bucky asked, troubled to see her crying even when he was the one bleeding above his bathroom sink.

Her heart clenched at the sight; at the care in his cerulean eyes, “what happened to you?”

She sped up to get the first-aid box from him, getting out everything she was going to need as she looked at his bloody palm.

“It’s nothing, sweet thing,” Bucky told her softly, hating the look of anxiety on her precious face even if it was for him; even if it was making him feel all sorts of things, “just a scratch, really. Nothing I can’t handle”.

She tenderly finished unwrapping his hand, gasping as she saw the bleeding gash across it, “this doesn’t look like nothing!” She cried, more tears streaming down her face, “how did you get this?”

“I just hurt myself while working…” Bucky’s metal hand hesitantly pat her shoulder.

“Bucky.” She looked up at him, not believing that that was the only reason because the wound seemed to be loosely stitched and it was obvious that something had happened to make the wound bleed after it had been stitched.

“And I might have punched the wall when I came home and didn’t find you,” Bucky mumbled lowly, not wanting to make her feel bad.

It was just a silly scrape compared to what he had to endure back when he was still fighting wars, really.

“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed into the back of her hand, feeling terrible for all the things she has been putting him through ever since she came here.

“Hey, I’m okay.” Bucky’s metal hand cupped her cheek, his smooth thumb sliding across to wipe her tears.

“No, you’re not.” She shook her head in deep regret, not believing that he was still the one reassuring her in such a state.

“I am, I swear on our marriage.” Bucky wiped under her eyes patiently, caring about nothing but her heart carrying no burdens.

She was speechless because did Bucky just use their marriage to swear? Was it really that important to him that he would swear on it?

She didn’t care that this was an arranged marriage in possibly the most twisted of ways, a woman knew love when she encountered it and that orc’s eyes were showing nothing but pure love.

In the middle of her heart’s longing for a person to care about her, she couldn’t bring herself to step on Bucky’s. Trying to calm her down when he was the one injured and dripping blood? Yeah, that was an orc worth trying, caring and staying for.

“I’m— I’m gonna need to redo the stitches, is that okay?” She sniffled, relaxing herself as she wordlessly promised those concerned blue eyes to give them and this marriage her all.

“Yes.” Bucky smiled when he saw her wipe her tears away and the smile she gave him back made his heart soar.

“It might hurt a little, but just for a short bit, okay?”

Bucky nodded, not believing how delicately she was handling his huge hand with her smaller ones.

He was glad she never had to witness him back then or the actually deadly injuries he had had inflicted on him during wars. He wouldn’t have been able to take that look of fear in her eyes after every fight.

“Who did those sloppy stitches anyway?” She wondered in dissatisfaction with the work and Bucky swallowed hard.

She looked at him knowingly when he remained silent, “it was sweet tooth Sarah, wasn’t it?” She asked with half a smile as she started cautiously taking out the old stitches with the tweezers.

“Yes.” Bucky nodded sheepishly, “but Sam only called for her help because they don’t offer me help in the kingdom’s infirmaries.”

“What?!” Her head snapped up angrily.

They don’t offer him service at the infirmaries?! After all that he had done for this kingdom?

“I’m no longer a soldier of their own so…” Bucky shrugged with a sad smile.

Her expression went from angry to devastated to angry again in less than a second, “this is gonna sting a little.” She warned as she disposed of the old sutures in the bin.

“Don’t be upset, little human.”

She looked up, not knowing what to say or how to apologize to the orc about the terrible treatment of this kingdom’s people, but his smile told her that everything was going to be all right. She couldn’t help but smile back.

Her eyes swayed between his palm and his face as she started disinfecting the wound with the piece of sterilized cotton in her hand.

Bucky hissed and winced, making her stop at once.

“I’m sorry! I’m so so—”

“Ha, fooled ya! It’s not that bad,” Bucky laughed, amused at her reaction, instantly earning himself a slap on his shoulder with the back of her hand.

“Hey, you can’t do that to the injured!” Bucky whined playfully.

“Can’t I?” She teased, biting her smile back.

He smiled wider because she could.

Oh, she could do anything to him and he would take it with a smile and thank her for it.

For a heartbeat, the world around Bucky seemed to blur as he focused solely on her, engraving every detail of her smile into his memory. It was a sight he never wanted to forget, a ray of light in the darkness that had clouded his years for so long.

Everything was going to be okay, Bucky thought as he brought her to his chest with his metal arm, praying to the gods she wouldn’t pull away.

“I’m— I’m almost done,” she muttered coyly, trying to make him let her go so she could finish tending to his injury.

But then she felt it: her husband’s tusks were pressing gently on her scalp as Bucky kissed her hair.

Her breath caught in her throat, a mixture of surprise and tenderness washing over her as she felt herself wanting to stay longer inside his embrace.

“Thank you, little human,” he whispered lovingly.

As she tilted her head slightly to meet Bucky’s captivating eyes, she found herself lost in the depths of their oceans, catching a vulnerability she hadn't noticed before.

She looked deeper and she realized that beneath his rugged exterior lied a heart capable of great tenderness, a heart that might just beat for her and her alone.

She beamed again as she softly replied, “you’re welcome, Bucky.”

Yeah, they were going to be okay.

Part IV

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gaysindistress · 5 months

Text

Allies or Enemies - one

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on google/Pinterest

pairings: Dragonborn!bucky x f!reader

Summary: The reality of her cruel world is more evident than ever before when her stepfather sends her to her death under the guise of diplomacy. Y/n, the expendable daughter of a scared king, must find a way to secure her own protection among the Dragonborn and she will do that by whatever means necessary.

Warnings: mild cursing

Word count: 3.3k

series masterlist | main masterlist

taglist: @unaxv

“The king requires your presence.”

“But were I to require that he does not bother me, my request would be ignored. We cannot always have the things that we desire,” I sigh whilst continuing to read the journal in front of me.

The handwriting is terrible, so much so that I can barely finish a page in 5 minutes but given that the king has been demanding my presence at every chance that he gets, I continue with my struggles. An older woman stands in the doorway and I can feel her glare at me with a hatred that I imagine is reserved only for me. After all, my mother is the one who married her lover.

“Now.”

The finality in her tone would’ve caused a younger me to look up in fear but I’ve grown used to the stern reality of our world. As the eldest daughter of the queen, I’ve been educated in every form of manipulation that can be conveyed through the voice. As the child of the late king and the unwanted stepchild to the current king, I’ve been taught that I am the only protection that I have. No one will come to my aid or offer me guidance when I need it. No one will tend to my wounds when the cruel servants of the king lash me with their words. No one will care for me in the way that my younger sisters are looked after. No one would even bat an eye if I were to vanish into thin air. They might celebrate if that were to happen.

The woman whom I despise just as much as she me repeats herself with a heavy huff as if I have greatly inconvenienced her by breathing the same air as her or simply existing. Whether it be my existence or continued residence at the palace that is more vexing to her is yet to be determined I’ve decided.

The journal before me bound in precious leather and gold thread suddenly becomes unimportant. While it details the various races of creatures that occupy these lands and would prove to be useful in my studies, it will do nothing to shield me from the king’s wrath. My fingers drift away from the frayed edges and allow it to close by itself, prompting small dust specks to flutter around it. The black silk ribbon that I wound around the end of my braid is dangling above the curious journal, trailing its delicate ends over the monstrous illustrations hidden in its opulent bindings. The ribbon, much like my heart, yearns to open it once more and lose myself in its pages but is bound by duty to ignore such a yearning.

“Your highness,” she demands in a tight voice, “We are to leave now.”

Rolling my eyes would most certainly earn me a slap across the face but it doesn’t stop me from squeezing them shut in frustration. Standing up from my desk, I swipe at the dust on my lap, smearing gray streaks across the thick black fabric of my over skirt. She makes a small noise of disgust at the action, no doubt complaining loudly in her mind that being presentable is not something I know how to do. We make eye contact for a brief moment and she is quick to turn on her heel, forcing me to nearly jog to catch up so that I may follow this hateful woman to my certain death.

The Beloved King Anthony Starkov had been a wonderful king at first. After the invasion of the Dragonborn and the apparent failure by my father to protect his nation, Anthony seemed like a god sent. He rode in on a pure white horse with the head of the most fearsome Dragonborn knight on his sword as he declared that he was now king. My mother, the poor grieving widower queen, had no choice but to accept his proposal and promise to care for us. He’s doted on her, showered her with affection and gifts, and most importantly he treated me as if I were his own. Following my father’s death and living in fear of Dragonborn attack’s, a protective shield was all I prayed for. My mother could barely protect herself from the onslaught of the court’s cruel words and it became apparent that soon they would turn on me. It was not for a lack of trying surely but due to the fact that she was not a man. As the angry old woman who calls herself my advisor likes to remind me, a woman is only as powerful as the man that marries her and that meant my mother had no power until Anthony.

The moment that Anthony took the crown and later my mother’s hand, we’d all thought that this would be the bright moment in our bleak lives that we’d been looking for. The nation of York was at peace when it had been a foreign concept to me and many others after the Dragonborn had launched their attack. The love that Anthony and my mother shared burned brighter than the terror that my father had allowed into our land.

Until the rumors of his cruel actions behind closed doors began to spread.

The help always gossiped against themselves and no one truly paid any mind.

That is until evidence accompanies these rumors.

My mother did well to hide what she could but once again there was only so much that she could do to protect me. When my sisters came along, I presume that Anthony no longer felt anger towards her but instead towards me, the last reminder of the Failed King. I’d always had pitying stares and endured hushed conversations where my name slipped between their fingers as they whispered to each other.

Poor child.

I heard that she’s going to be married off as soon as possible.

I heard that she’s just as weak as her father.

Poor child.

I ignored them until I couldn’t anymore. I ignored them until I had been sent to live with a distant cousin to be “taught the art of diplomacy” and was told to never return to the palace. With this distant cousin, I did learn the art of diplomacy as planned but as the craft of cutting words and cunning actions. I’d grown rather talented at navigating the complicated relations of neighboring nations, so much so that foreign diplomats asked for me by name. My ability to seamlessly blend together warring cultures and broken bonds earned me fame beyond that of my late father. Of course like any wicked stepparent, Anthony demanded I return to court so that my talents may be best utilized to serve the nation.

What a wretched lie to shorten my leash.

So began my rebellion.

The older woman who is also my ill informed advisor, Pepper, stomps down the dim hall towards the grand battle room. Her reddish blonde hair hardly moves behind her as she makes a determined path to the king despite the curls it’s been styled into. It’s rather shocking to see her hair down at all considering she is usually the one to lecture me on the propriety of society and how as a member of the royal family, I must uphold that. After she’s red in the face and moments away from exploding with fury, I like to remind her that I’m the forgotten eldest daughter. No one thinks of me as the face of this family or that of modern society either.

Despite its name, the battle room cannot be considered grand by any stretch of the imagination. Much like the rest of the palace, it is old and worn from economic fatigue. Where gold used to be brushed across every inch, there are now only flecks of lackluster yellow. Where towering windows used to bathe the halls in sunlight, there are now curtains drawn to prevent the Dragonborn from seeing movement within the palace. There is no finery to be seen and what was once a regal sight to behold is the stark reminder that we are at war with enemies who have every advantage.

With a deafening boom, ragged guards who’ve past their battle prime push the battle room doors and alert the king to our arrival. Pepper stomps right to where the king is sitting among pillars of maps and letters and whispers something in his ear. I don’t need to know whatever lies she’s telling him because his expression tells me enough. His ever present scowl deepens when he looks up and settles his disgusted gaze on me.

Dust swirls from my skirts as I shift on my feet and hit the wood paneled floors beneath me with a silent loudness as he stares at me.

A single question hangs in the air as he attempts to peer into my soul, “Were you aware that the Dragonic bastards were planning to create an alliance with the Elven counsel?”

Of course no warm welcome or small talk. Straight to the heart of the reason he even dragged me back here in the first place.

“Was I aware of this alliance?” I calmly restate, arching a brow at the man who sits high on his worthless throne and judges me. “Had I been, I would have informed you the instant I knew, your highness.”

In truth, I had heard snippets of clipped conversations about something brewing between the two nations but nothing raised concern within me. Rather nothing could’ve convinced me to speak to this man willingly.

The throne is a disgusting sight to behold with its mangled wood and tattered black cloth that flows in the still wind behind it. Black as night and deafening as the ever present silence that fills when you’re dying, this throne is what haunted me as a child and whispers promises of my demise now as an adult. The throne smiles when it senses my anger and the man who is occupying it becomes a conduit for its emotions as that familiar sinister glint flickers in his dark eyes.

Anthony throws a glance to the dust that has fallen around me with disappointment before speaking, “Do not play games with me, child.”

My eyes narrow at his choice of words.

“I assure you,” I start as I take a step forward as the heels of my boots make light taps on the wood, “I am not playing games with you. As I said before, if I had heard anything about this rumored alliance then you would have been made aware as well but alas I did not know.”

Anthony’s hollow chuckle causes my hair to stand on end but my face is schooled into perfect indifference. I allow my expression to portray only mild concern for the safety of our nation and that gets under his skin more than anything.

“If that is the position that you wish to maintain, then so be it.”

I roll my eyes at him and his flash with rage for a brief moment. The king settles back into his chair as he smirks at me, “you are my most sought after diplomat, are you not?”

Where is he going with this? I think to myself while I nod.

“Of course you are. You have your father’s legendary silver tongue. I should think that you would be the perfect person to forge an alliance on the nation’s behalf.``

My heart stills while my body becomes completely frigid. Suddenly the thick fabrics of my skirts and tight corset are useless against the chill that has begun to creep up my spine. The king holds back an all out grin and clenches his jaw. The action tightens and sharpens his already pronounced jaw, giving him the appearance akin to a statue. A crown of graying black waves adores his head but it does nothing to soften the severe look on his tanned face. “I have arranged for you to travel to the Dragonic capital and broker a peace treaty of sorts between us and them. We cannot allow this war to rage on any longer if they intend to ally themselves with the Elven counsel. This nation will not survive.”

“You expect me to do what?” I snarl with a curl of my lip which sends the entire room on high alert. Pepper gasps as she steps behind Anthony and the guards have arranged themselves in a defensive circle.

The king on his feet in seconds, brandishing a dull sword and pointing it at me albeit still a safe distance away. My gaze makes a slow path from the pathetic sword to his furious face. It is not the first time that he’s drawn a weapon on me and I doubt it will be the least.

“Your father is the reason this nation is all but decimated and it will be you who corrects that mistake. You will do as I demand of you and you will do it well if you wish for your mother to live.”

“You would not dare.” I hiss at him as I step closer. He steps back and says my name but I interrupt him with a roar of anger.

“You cannot expect me to willingly walk into a viper’s den, provoke the beast within, and survive, let alone make it obey me. You must know that this means almost certain death for me and I will fail. It is an impossible task, your highness. I will not do it.”

He hesitates, something that I haven’t seen him do ever, and I want to take pride in being the one to cause his hesitation but it’s short lived. His lip curls up into a nasty smirk as he sneers at me and circles his desk to stand mere inches from me.

“We might share blood but you are not my step daughter or family in any sense of the word. You are an abomination, a blight upon this earth. You are a dark stain in the fabric of our history and one that I will spend the remainder of my reign trying to scrub clean. You are a beastly girl who knows no discipline nor manners and nothing can forgive the torment that you've put this court through. Understand that is a blessing and that I should sentence you to death outright for simply being the offspring of the Failed King.”

Too caught up in the king’s self-serving monologue, I’d failed to hear the sound of thundering wings and the dreadful slap of scaled boots marching towards the battle room. I’d missed how the palace seemed to shrink around us in fear while its enemy stormed its halls with permission. I’d missed how only Anthony and I remained while the others had fled for their safety. I’d failed to notice that the air grew hazy and thick with smoke instead of tension as I had assumed.

Just as I catch the scent of burnt embers, I turn to glance over my shoulder and see the most important thing that I had failed to notice; a knight clad in iridescent black armor who is standing just behind me.

Towering above everyone and everything in the room, the knight seems to be almost double the size of any mortal man I know. As I spin to face it, the hulking frame shrouds me in complete darkness. My eyes make the nearly seven foot long ascent to where a face might be if it weren’t for the helmet that chills me to my core as I recognize it.

It’s the helmet of a Dragonborn knight.

They all wear the same sleek black helmet that resembles their beastly forms; six large horn-like spikes that stretch from the sides and top while the chin comes to a narrow point like a dragon’s nose. The helmet is otherwise plain with engravings or markings to decorate it aside from two sets of ruby glass eyes that stare down at me. It covers the knight’s entire face and head, leaving not even a sliver of skin or strand of hair to be seen. Save for the nature creases where the armor is cut to allow for movement, it lacks any decorations or embellishments much like the helmet. I’d once been told that it’s iridescent quality was due to the fact it was made from their dragon form’s scales instead of metal like mortal knights’ but I’ve never been close enough to one to ask. This is the first time I've been close to a Dragonborn at all, knight or not. My father had allowed a handful of their diplomats into the palace before his death but they’d used they’re mortal forms and only stayed for however long was absolutely necessary. I scarcely remember them aside from their silently menacing presence that would engulf rooms before they walked in and the scent of burnt embers that clung to their skin. Aside from those few past encounters, my knowledge comes from the journals I’ve snuck into the palace but nothing would’ve prepared me for this moment.

The knight simply stares down at me with those double ruby eyes before lifting its head to look at Anthony. With its gaze off of me, I look around it to see that there are only three more Dragonborn knights. Given how hostile our nations’ relationship has been, I would’ve expected to see a small army. Instead it seems that their leader did not think they would face much resistance or maybe these knights are more vicious than I’d been led to believe.

Anthony lets out a shuddered breath before he speaks, “You will leave with them in two days time.”

The knight glances back at me. The clawed gauntlets that cover its hands make a small noise when they come to rest on the hilt of a onyx greatsword. It stiles a cord of deep rooted terror within me that I can’t stop from setting ablaze to my nerves.

they’re not like us

It echoes throughout my mind while we stare at each other. The knight cocks its head and I can only assume it's studying me as I am it.

Anthony’s unsteady footsteps stop me from getting caught up entirely in the knight before me.

“She’ll never forgive you,” I whisper without looking away from the knight. I don’t need to look to know that my cowardly stepfather is retreating to safety and leaving me with these monstrous knights.

“She’ll be more thankful that her true daughters are alive.”

The other knights approach us, causing Anthony to let out a shaky chuckle in fear and stumble as he steps back.

One speaks, his gravelly voice rumbles the walls of this weak palace and shakes dust all around us, “The binding ceremony will take place tonight. Have you made the preparations as requested?”

I hear Anthony mumble something along the lines of ‘yes’ with a rambling of nervous explanations. The only words I can focus on are “binding ceremony”. They fall off my tongue in confusion and disbelief without me realizing.

“For your protection,” another more guttural voice answers. It’s quieter, one could not call it gentle but the low tone might be considered such to their kind. The knight before me waits for me to say something and when I don’t, he adds, “you will be safe with us. No harm shall befall you under our guard.”

A sarcastic chuckle wants to spill out but I keep my lips sealed. Safety is an illusion for any member of the royal family and it’s one that I saw through many years ago. I have no doubt that the knights will protect me as long as I prove useful but the moment an alliance is forged, that protection will end. Anthony will kill me the moment I step foot back into his nation and I have no allies of my own to rely on me.

The reality of this cruel world is more evident than ever before; I must find a way to secure my own protection and I will do that by whatever means necessary.

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