The rest of the afternoon was a whirlwind to Bucky. His mother insisted he stay with her as she oversaw the start of the wedding preparations. The chapel had to be swept clean of straw and cleaned. The guest rooms were aired and prepared. Bucky needed to bathe and wash his hair and try on his wedding clothes. Although he wouldn't be wearing it for the wedding, his mother said his gambeson needed mending—until she'd seen his attempt. She ran her fingertips over the slight pucker in the fabric and studied it a moment before nodding. "Well done," she said, and then there was some other task to do.
Sometime before sunset, word reached them that the last of the enemy was routed. Essar's supply train was still catching up, but they shared what food they brought freely. Cook was adamant that the celebratory meals should not be too lavish or else they'd be sick.
The evening's supper was small, but warm and friendly. The great hall was full and loud as the knights from three kingdoms shared bloody stories and lively tales.
Finally, when it was time for bed, Bucky was able to slip away from his mother. He caught up with Steve before the other man retired to his bedchamber. "Steve," he said. He grabbed Steve's arm. "Wait, please." He cupped his chin and kissed him, but Steve pulled away from him shortly. Bucky lowered his hand.
"Buck, what are you doing?" Steve said. He looked around the dim, brazier-lit hallway but came to the same conclusion that Bucky had: they were alone. "You're getting married tomorrow."
"I know," Bucky whispered. He could feel the urge to beg on the tip of his tongue, to ask for one more night with Steve, but he knew he couldn't ever say the words. Princes didn't beg. "I just thought that maybe..."
Steve's gaze seemed soft, understanding, but with there was a stubborn set to his jaw.
"Don't be like this, Bucky. Don't do something you'll regret. You haven't even had a proper conversation with her yet. Don't destroy any chance for trust between you."
Bucky swallowed. Somehow he'd deluded himself into thinking if he could just have one more night with Steve, he'd be able to leave it alone between them afterward. "The only thing I regret is not telling you sooner," he said after a moment.
Steve seemed to share the sentiment. He reached up and put a hand over Bucky chest, over his heart. "It's not like I'm going anywhere. We'll still be best friends."
Bucky reached up and grabbed Steve's delicate fingers. Steve nodded and entered his bedchamber. The door thunked against the stone as it closed. Bucky sighed and turned around, his gaze lowered to the floor as he headed toward his room.
He saw a pair of woman's feet before he looked up to see the rest of her. Princess Margaret was standing in the shadow of his door frame. She gave the impression that she had stood there long enough to witness his aborted bad decision. Bucky didn't want to meet her gaze, but he did, expecting anger at the very least.
He found understanding in her eyes and interest in the crook of her lips.
"Did you know that my kingdom has an interesting quirk like yours?" she asked. She pulled on the latch of his door and stepped back into his room. She took a seat on his bed, crossing her ankles. He closed the door behind him but didn't move further into the room. Ian had been in here; there were red embers in the hearth. They didn't provide much light, but combined with the moonlight from his window, he could see her well enough. She wasn't wearing a hat or hood, and her brown hair curled about her shoulders. It tempted him to run his fingers through it.
"What did you mean by quirk?" he asked hesitantly.
"That custom you have of letting the prince and princess choose their life partners, rather than having the king and queen make the decision."
He didn't know where she was going with this. He'd seen her dressed in armor, knew she was a warrior. Was their custom killing spouses for infidelity? He let his gaze travel the length of her bodice, searching for a dagger. Or maybe she had a vial of poison that she would feed him. He brought his gaze back up to her face when she didn't continue. Her eyebrows raised. He didn't know how to interpret the look. Was that a challenge? Was she asking if he approved of what he saw? She smiled and it complicated his thoughts even more. Why did she have to be so beautiful? Finally, he couldn't help but break the silence and the tension that had built up in his head. "What custom do you have?" he asked.
"The King and Queen typically have a consort. Man or woman, doesn't matter. My parents' consort, Stanley, passed away last year. They'd been a triad for as long as I can remember." She bounced the leg she had crossed; it made the hem of her skirt flap back and forth.
What did she expect him to say to that? A triad? Inviting a consort into the royal bed? He'd heard of a king having mistresses, women he would lay with other than his queen, but one that joined them together? What would three people even do together in an intimate setting? What if it was the consort that got the queen with child? What if the king or queen fell out of love with their spouse and in love with their consort? There was only room in one's heart for one person.
She must be testing him. Surely she couldn't have misunderstood his kiss with Steve for just an interest in any random man.
"I'm not... interested in something like that. Or at least, not at first," he said. He didn't want to disregard her custom completely, though, because maybe she was interested in that. Maybe she already had a lover. One of her lady knight companions? "Perhaps we could... include someone later, if that's what you wish." He felt like he'd handled that well enough; he hadn't said no, but he hadn't said yes, either. If she were testing him, hopefully, that would appease her.
She did not look appeased. She looked annoyed. She patted his bed with one hand. "Sit down, you're so stiff with tension you're making my neck hurt just looking at you. I'm not a snake, I'm not going to bit you as soon as you come close."
It took him a deliberate thought to fulfill her request. Once he reached the side of his bed, he sat on the side and removed his shoes, then sat back against the carved headboard. He might as well be comfortable. She considered him for a moment, then untied her own shoes and scooted up the bed to sit beside him. His heart seemed to thump twice every beat. Steve was in this bed with him last night. She would be here, officially, tomorrow. Between her words and his memory, his thoughts were misbehaving badly. He had to force himself to breathe evenly. She offered up the palm of her hand closest to him, and after a moment he realized what she wanted. He interlaced his fingers with hers. She squeezed his hand lightly. He could feel weapon calluses on her skin.
"I saw how you looked at him. I saw how you kissed him," she said softly. He made to pull his hand away, but she tightened her grip.
"He's not just some consort, someone to be replaced because of a craving."
"Of course not," she said. "That's not what I'm suggesting. I'm saying, the three of us could marry. Make it official. He's the partner you chose, I'm the partner you agreed to."
"But he's... he's a king. Displaced and all, but..."
"And we're in line for our own thrones. My father married my mother the Queen, not the other way around." She loosened her grip a little but didn't let go. "We're all on equal footing. Relatively. This could work."
Hope and nerves and impossibilities clogged his throat. After swallowing it down he managed to say. "We probably ought to ask him first. And our parents, before we decide this."
She smiled and then leaned over to kiss his cheek. "Of course, darling."
* . * . *
Peggy sought her father out early the next morning. He was strolling along the wall walk with King George and Queen Winifred.
"Good morning, Pegs," Harrison said, holding his arms out wide. She stepped into his embrace for the hug, and then stepped into line with them as they continued the survey of reconstruction and clean up.
"Good morning, Father. I have a proposal for you. It might mean we have to postpone the wedding."
"Postpone it? Why?" he said. His voice had turned a little gruff in his displeasure.
She caught eyes with Winifred, who had a knowing sort of look on her face. The Queen winked at her. At least she had the Queen's approval. "Just a few days, to make sure that King Steven has wedding clothes."
"Steven? Your betrothal to Steven was broken when Dryne fell. Are you feeling well? You're marrying George's boy, James."
"I was thinking I could marry both of them, actually."
Harrison stopped ambling to look at her. "What are you scheming? A marriage like that unites most of the continent. I didn't rear you to be a land-grabber."
"To be honest, I didn't think of the implications of uniting the continent, though I have thoughts about Tellis Tor and Dryne, now that you mention it—"
"Save it for the upcoming council meeting with the envoys from Asgard and Wakanda," Harrison warned.
"Right," she said, dismissing the political thoughts regarding the two enemies they crushed and routed yesterday. "I'm more interested in the personal, at the moment anyway. James is in love with Steven." She said it plainly. She didn't feel the need to soften her words. George and Winifred did not react beyond nodding. Good. They knew. She approved.
Harrison's mouth was pursed to the side in thought. "And you... what? Want to consort a king?"
"He wouldn't be a consort. It would be a triad. Equal footing."
He looked thoughtful. "This is your way of keeping with my terms, isn't it? Choosing one's partner is an Enran custom."
"And triads are ours."
He licked his lips and glanced at George and Winifred. "What do you think? Are the other kings going to kick up a fuss at a three-way alliance?"
"Possibly," George said, but he had a little smile on his face as he spoke. "I'm inclined to agree with your daughter, though. I want my son to be happy. This sounds like something that would make and keep him so." He looked at his wife, and his questioning look turn puzzled. The smirk on her face was mischievous. "What's got you smiling like a cat that got the cream?"
She looked at Peggy. "We won't have to postpone the wedding. Steve's wedding clothes are done, and he only needs to try them on to make sure everything fits right."
The men laughed, and Peggy and Winifred shared a smile.
After speaking with her father, Peggy spent the hours before dinner bathing and being pampered. Her livery maid and best friend, Angie, helped her wash her hair as they giggled and gossiped about anything and everything that came to mind. Angie had wondered where Peggy had disappeared to the night before and speculated that she'd visited her future husband's bedchamber early. When Peggy disclosed she had indeed visited James's room and even sat on the bed, Angie squealed with excitement and then laughed when Peggy described how nervous he had been—and she had only wanted to talk with him! Think about how nervous he would be tonight! When a maid named Betty brought them a small dinner, she was invited to join and tell any secrets she may have about the men that would be Peggy's husbands.
After dinner, Angie helped Peggy dress in her best gown, a delicate pale blue with pearls and lace decorating the sleeves and hem. She combed and styled her hair up in braids and secured her tiara with pins. Then they ambled along the wall walk around the inner bailey for a time, stopping to chat with several of her fellow lady knights and the Asgardian Valkyries, too.
Peggy had wanted a chance to speak with Steven, to measure how he was feeling about their inclusion of him, but she had to trust James when he said they'd spoken and he'd agreed. As the sun was starting to set, Peggy and Angie, along with their gathering retinue of women, headed to the chapel. Peasants had ceased their tasks and gathered on either side of the door to get a glimpse of her and the other royalty.
Michael was waiting for her at the door. "You look stunning, don't you?" he asked reaching out for her. She stepped into his embrace and lingered when he rocked from side to side. "Do you remember me teaching you to dance?" He asked, stepping back to get a better look at her. "You were so little."
"I was five. You couldn't have been older than ten-and-two."
"I was a tall boy at ten-and-two," he said, puffing up his chest.
"Slender as a rail and scruffy," she argued with a smile on her face. "Always out tumbling in the yard with father's knights."
He glanced over her shoulder at the group of warrior women who had accompanied her to the chapel. "You got into more scraps than I did."
She smiled a little and shrugged. He laughed.
"All right," he said, letting her go fully. "I suppose it's time for me to pass you along to your husband now."
"Husbands," she corrected.
He rolled his eyes. "Right, two husbands. You wouldn't have been satisfied with just the one."
She pretended to be offended at his words but couldn't hold the expression long before she laughed. They walked into the chapel. It was already crowded with guests, and the royal families were already at the front, waiting. James stood tall and only gave away his slight nerves by rolling the end of his sleeve between his fingers. He wore a violet tunic that matched his house's banners. It had green vines trailing down the sleeves and across his shoulders, with little golden roses along the way. His golden circlet was nestled in his brown hair that he'd left hanging freely about his shoulders. Steven stood beside him, wearing an overcoat—the style of clothing often worn in Dryne. It was a deep, glorious red. The cuffs, collar, and trim were heavily embroidered with silver thread, with the prominent motif being a five-pointed star. The tunic he wore under it was a dark blue. His head was unadorned and his blond hair was cropped short about his ears. Any kingly accouterments would have been left behind when he'd fled the sacking of Dryne. Although he was close to a head shorter than James, of similar height with Peggy, he stood straight and confident. If he was nervous, nothing about his countenance gave it away.
Ridiculously, Peggy felt butterflies. She'd known she would have to marry since she was a little girl, and she'd always looked at it as a duty she would be required to do. Though she did not know them well, she felt something like excitement in her blood. They would be hers. She was confident that theirs would be a well-matched union.
In the far corner, Tony had set up a sorcerer's circle. James was watching him with suspicion but did not raise any objections when Tony gestured at her and mumbled so lowly she doubted anyone could make out what he said. Howard had once told her that all the grand gesturing that Tony did wasn't necessary, the magic was in the runes of the circle and the words of the invocation and in the blood of the sorcerer. Tony just liked the gestures because they garnered him more attention than he might otherwise receive. She watched as he pricked his finger and let one drop spill onto his drawn runes. They released a brief bit of smoke and then Peggy felt a slight misting of water on her skin like if she were standing too close to the base of a waterfall. She looked down to find her gown sparkling as if a fine dusting of crushed diamonds coated it. She rubbed her fingers across the fine silk to find it just as smooth as before. She smiled and looked up toward her grooms. Both seemed relieved, and in James's case, awed by the way her dress now shimmered.
Then Michael guided her forward and presented her to them. The priest started the short ceremony. Peggy was sure she said all the appropriate things she needed to say and bowed her head and received the gods' blessing, but the words spoken came to her as if on a cloud. She tried to capture them, to keep them in her mind but it was trying to contain smoke through her fingers.
When it was over, the three of them walked out of the chapel side by side. The peasants cheered and broke apart so they and the rest of the recessional could walk through them. Without a word between them, Steven was the one to set the pace, not quite an amble but not a brisk walk either. Peggy was thankful the inner bailey had been cleared of the dead before the peasants had ceased their work to celebrate. They walked to the keep, and Steve led them to the great hall, where they took their seats at the table on the dais. The hall began to fill up with courtier, knights, and others, and soon enough castle servants began bringing out the meal.
As they ate, James began to relax. Steven, on the other hand, grew tenser. Peggy thought the dichotomy was amusing. When the heavier courses were brought to the table, the Cook kindly reminded those who had been in the castle during the siege to eat slowly and not to overwhelm themselves. Both of her husbands nodded and listened to the Cook's advice, putting small portions on their plates even when a roasted hog was brought out that smelled so heavenly that it made Peggy's mouth water.
Conversation between them was a little stilted, but Harrison and King George didn't seem to have a problem. They talked of past meetings, of previously current politics—things were still upended from the siege, so they stayed away from that topic for the most part—and of their own weddings. It was clear that they'd been lifelong friends. Winifred and James's younger sister were at the other end of the table, and while the Queen did take part in the conversation, the sister did not. She instead, spoke quietly and often to her lady-in-waiting who was sitting close by.
Also at the table were Howard and Tony. They had their usual sniping sort of banter and joined in with Harrison and George. Tony even got Steven talking about the reputation of sorcery in books. Close to the end of the meal, a young woman with short red hair and a smudge of dirt on her face approached them. "Excuse me," she said, she curtsied a little clumsily but Steven smiled at her to encourage her. "Would you take me as your apprentice, court sorcerer?" she asked of Tony. She wasn't particularly demure; her eyes and back spoke of steel and fire and determination. Peggy liked her immediately.
Tony looked suitably impressed but then laughed a little. "I'm technically still an apprentice myself," he said, stroking his short beard, the hair of which was black shot through with grey. He looked at his father. "Somebody never acknowledged me and gave me the full title. I think it's because he didn't want competition as the only fully instated sorcerer in Essar."
Howard, whose hair and beard were fully gray and long, laughed and shook his head. "It's because you work harder when you're trying to prove yourself. I thought stepping down from my post and ceding it to you was testament enough that I trust you to take care of the kingdom's magical needs."
"Well it wasn't," Tony snapped.
Howard's lips pursed at the harsh tone but gestured back to the young girl in front of them. "You're a competent sorcerer, Anthony. You may take on apprentices of your own and pass on your craft as you so choose."
The scowl vanished from Tony's face, and he answered the formal acknowledgment with a simple, "Thank you." He looked back to the girl. "What's your name? What makes you think you have magical blood?"
"I'm Wanda," she said, "and my mother was the court sorceress of Dryne."
Tony's mouth opened a little in surprise, and then he nodded. "Yep, that would probably give you magical credence. I'll take you on as my apprentice." He gestured back at his father. "Don't worry, I'll probably acknowledge you in a much shorter time than this guy."
Howard just smiled in Tony's direction.
"Wanda," Winifred called, "What of your brother Pietro? Would he be interested in learning as well? Magical blood is so rare, it would be a shame to ignore it if that's what he wanted."
"I think he's content as Knight Nick's squire, Your Grace, but I'll ask him." She curtsied again and left.
Howard asked. "Do you think you can handle two of them, or should I apprentice the brother if he's interested?"
"I can handle them," Tony said. His face was tipped up with that familiar stubborn look he got when he was attempting to prove something to his father. Peggy used her wine cup to hide her smile. It seems Howard was still going to needle Tony into doing his best.
Several of Peggy's friends approached as well, and as one they curtsied to the Kings and the Queen. When Harrison gave a nod to them, Pepper was the one to step forward. "Are you ready for the bedding ceremony, Peggy?"
Peggy rolled her eyes but couldn't stop the grin on her face. The butterflies in her stomach were back. She set her cup down. "Yes, I believe I am." She stood and went with them. Natasha, her newest friend, led the way through the castle back to James's bedchamber. Neither Peggy nor Angie gave away that she already knew where it was. Once inside, Pepper, Natasha, Maria, and Sharon helped her take down her hair and undress. They whispered and giggled and gossiped, giving her advice about what was to come next. She'd read the same scandalizing stories they had, but she let them intone the sage advice from the books to her all the same. Pepper was the only one of them to have any experience, as she was married to General James. Peggy had also caught the way she, Tony and James stared at one another at meal times at home. She expected they would become their own triad soon if they hadn't already.
When she was down to her chemise, they tucked her in the center of the bed and stepped back to wait. Over their giggling, Peggy could hear a group of men singing bawdy songs and laughing as they carted her husbands to the door. By the time it opened and they entered, both Steven and James were down to their shirts.
Peggy swallowed, only now feeling a bit nervous. They went to either side of the bed and waited for the Kings and Queen to enter followed by more knights and courtier and the priest. The priest gestured for them to pull back the sheets and get in the bed. George and Harrison came behind them and pull the sheets back over them to cover their legs. The priest blessed the marriage bed, and Winifred had the honor of pulling the bed curtains closed around them.
Peggy, James, and Steven sat still and waited for the last of the witnesses to leave and shut the door behind them. They could still hear the knights sharing dirty jokes and repeating the bawdy songs even as they were ushered down the hallway back to the great hall.
Peggy exhaled in relief and then looked at the men on either side of her. "I must admit, I'm not quite sure what to do next."
James laughed and reached up to cup her cheek. "Don't worry, I'm sure we'll figure it out." He leaned in for a kiss. His breath tasted sweet from the spiced wine they'd had with dinner and the way his tongue caressed her warmed her blood in a way she wasn't at all used to. When he finally pulled away, she was breathing more heavily. He turned her head and offered her mouth to Steven. "Kiss her, Steve," he whispered.
As Steven kissed her, James shifted himself to press his mouth to her neck, kissing and licking the tender skin there. She shivered in delight in their embrace and felt pleased when James chuckled lowly as if in praise.
She was looking forward to what else he knew how to do with his tongue.
Peggy learned a lot about her husbands on their wedding night, not the least of which were their informal names. On the fourth day they were expected to be indisposed, Bucky decided they should get out of the castle. After a short discussion, they decided to take horses and ride across the river and into the wood to the north.
After the decision was made, and a cursory check-in made with the kings, where it was suggested that they ride armed and with guards, Peggy, Bucky, and Steve headed to the stable. The stablehands were accommodating and quick, and Peggy was astride Clove soon thereafter. She waited for a moment, expecting either of her husbands to say something about her riding style, but neither of them brought it up. What they did bring up, however, was the eastern saddle that the men's horses were equipped with. Bucky shifted awkwardly and frowned. "You don't have stirrups, but you've got four pommels. Why?"
Peggy demonstrated by leaning far over to press a kiss to his cheek before pulling herself up using just her thighs and the saddle. "It's for maneuverability in the saddle. Only the knights of my grandfather's time were using them, but now they've spread and almost everyone in Essar uses them. It might take some getting used to."
"I think my thighs are too thick," he complained, shifting again.
She had to bite her tongue and look away from him to stop her blush and smile because she knew just how muscular his thighs were. She caught Steve's pursed lips stopping him from grinning as well.
Clint, who had been the first to offer to ride as a guard, coughed to change the subject. "The horses are more used to these than Enran saddles. We might be able to find some Enran horses if you want."
Bucky frowned but looked at the small group of them already ready to ride. "No," he said, wiggling once more in his seat, "I'll be fine." With one last look at their companions—Pepper, Natasha, and Clint—they started toward the gatehouse. Right before they left the bailey, Tony joined them as well. He and Pepper shared a smile was that was far from subtle, and he fell right into conversation with Steve at the back of their group.
As they rode past the curtain wall and through the village, Peggy noticed how Bucky was looking around with a sad look on his face. Perhaps he was thinking the same thing she was, that the village seemed rather quiet for a center of trade. Had they lost that many peasants? She suspected they had.
The bridge leading across the river was made of stone, and their horses' shoes clattered against it noisily. As they entered the wood, Pepper caught Tony's attention and he nodded at Steve and slowed, falling back in line with her. Soon enough, their guards separated from them to give them some privacy.
"What were you thinking about as we rode through the village, Bucky?" Peggy asked.
"The scope of how many peasants perished during the siege. From starvation to the deceitful way the enemy sneaked in and murdered them at night. The village felt empty."
"I've not ventured here before, but it felt empty to me as well. I'm sure in a few years things will be full and bustling again though. Things like that take time," she said. He caught her gaze and let his eyes travel down to her belly. She hadn't intended to speak about their future, but she supposed the same thing applied. Becoming with child wasn't always as simple as laying with one another once. Sometimes multiple tries were needed. She was looking forward to them. She let a grin slip across her face before she turned Clove and encouraged her to a trot.
Steve caught up with her first. "Are you comfortable on horseback, Steve?" she asked. They slowed again as the tree canopy grew thicker above them.
"Well enough. I haven't had occasion to ride in a while, though." He was quiet for a moment before he said, "Can you tell me what Essar is like? I've only read stories. What does the sea really look like?"
"You can smell the salt from the sea on the breeze from the castle. It tends to lay thick on the skin, especially in the summer's heat. Things never feel completely dry in July, between the sweat and the water in the air. It's comfortable though, and a good excuse to wear the fine silks and delicate fabrics we get in trade from Wakanda." She watched him as he looked off toward the West. She wondered how often he did so without thinking about it. She couldn't imagine what it would be like to lose her home. To run. She was too stubborn to run, though she suspected he was as well and it had been at the urging of someone else that he'd fled his home. "What's Dryne like?"
"Cold," he answered, laughing a bit. "The castle is in the north of the kingdom, nestled on the side of a mountain. The villages in the valley below spread out as far as you can see. The air was always crisp and clear—well, not always, there were snowstorms—but the view from the towers was spectacular." He sounded sad. She hadn't meant to make him melancholic.
"I've read the term but I have no experience with it. What is snow?" she asked.
He looked back at her in shock, like she'd baffled him completely. "Really, it doesn't snow in Essar at all?"
She shook her head. "The sea is too warm for it."
"Wow," he said. "I thought it snowed everywhere."
Bucky had been riding just behind Steve and interjected, "It's wet and slushy. It soaks into your clothes and makes everything cold."
Steve made a face at him. "Real snow is fluffy. Or sometimes crunchy, if it's been in a spot the sun has warmed most of the afternoon."
"Sounds horrible," Bucky said, though he had a smile on his face.
A snapping twig caught her attention, and she turned just in time to be tackled off of Clove by someone jumping from a tree branch. In the act of falling, she pulled her dagger out of its sheath. The attacker landed on top of it and didn't move. It took her a minute to catch her breath from the fall, but she eventually pushed the body off of her. "Clint!" she called as soon as she was capable. The hawk that had been following them—whose eyes Clint could see through—swooped down with a piercing battle cry to aid Steve in fighting off his attacker. Bucky was just finishing with his, and he only paused a moment before he threw himself at Steve's attacker, flinging him away from Steve and onto the ground. The man pulled a dagger before Bucky could get back to him, but instead of getting up to try to attack them again he shouted, "For Hydra!" He thumped his chest where a tarnished breastplate had been crudely etched to display an octopus with a skull where its head should be. He unbuckled it just enough to shove his own dagger between his ribs.
Peggy was sure Bucky's face mirrored her own, disgust and possibly shock.
Bucky recovered quicker than she, however, and taunted the dead man, "Doesn't look like any hydra I've ever seen."
A gust of wind from enormous wings blew through the clearing just as an Asgardian pterippus landed. The woman astride it's back asked as she dismounted, "Seen your share of them, have you?"
Bucky turned around and his eyes went wide with awe as he stared at the Valkyrie and her steed. His voice was little more than a squeak when he answered, "Well, no." Peggy smothered the smile that wanted to cross her lips at his reaction.
The warrior, Brunnhilde if Peggy remembered correctly, tossed her brown hair over her shoulder and winked at him. "They're nasty beasts." She curtsied shallowly at the three of them before patting her mount's neck. "The Asgardian envoy has arrived. Princess Hela came to give her congratulations to the newest royal couple." Her gaze moved from Bucky to Peggy, then to Steve. "Triad," she tacked on, "whatever."
The trod of their companions' horses hooves against the forest floor alerted them to their arrival. Clint appeared first, looking more worried than he ought. "How did you get so far away from us?" he demanded. He wasn't angry, though. Peggy recognized the tone from when she'd wander too far from him as a child. He heaved a breath and looked at them. Peggy looked the worst of it, her orange silk gown ruined beyond repair. "Are you all right? All of you?"
"We're fine," Peggy reassured him. "It seems our ride was cut short. Let's get back. I'd rather not meet Hela covered in muck."
Brunnhilde, Peggy, and Bucky remounted their steeds even as Clint got off of his. He cut the breastplate with its modified sigil loose from the dead man and tied it to his saddle before getting back up. They rode for the castle, Clint only falling behind once to tell a few peasants about the three bodies in the woods that needed burying.
Steve headed for the tower as soon as they reached the keep, but Bucky and Peggy stopped in his rooms to clean themselves from the scuffle. He even offered to help her remove her soiled gown so she wouldn't need to call for Angie. His fingers tickled her sides as he raised it over her head and he pressed a kiss to the column of her neck when the gown was pulled away. She hummed, enjoying his touch, but made a point to ignore the heated look in his eyes when she turned around to get another gown. "Princess Hela and your father's council are waiting on us," she warned when he reached for her as she was tucking the wisps of hair that had escaped her coif back into place.
"They can get by without us," he murmured.
She turned around, setting her hands on her hips and raising one of her eyebrows at him. "I'm not sure if you normally attend council meetings, but I do. I want to know what's going on. If you're that... ravenous, we can always return here with Steve when the council breaks for dinner."
He pursed his lips like he was thinking about arguing but after a moment's pause conceded without speaking by opening the door and leading the way to the meeting room.
Peggy was almost envious of the relaxed grace that Princess Hela seemed to emit. She was the epitome of elegance in her black silk gown. Peggy thought there might even be emeralds sewn into the fabric at her wrists. She had an aura of danger, like she shouldn't be annoyed because her ire was deadly. She also looked bored.
There were three seats between King George and Harrison. Steve was sitting in the middle one. She took the one between him and her father after greeting King George and Princess Hela properly. Bucky followed, greeting her father and Princess Hela and sitting on Steve's other side.
"Congratulations," Hela said. The word sounded sharp.
"Thank you," Steve said for them.
Harrison went right to the heart of the meeting. "I believe Peggy and I have similar thoughts on this. While Alexander and Johann are scrambling back to their kingdoms, we should give chase before they can muster solid defenses. They've been a menace to the rest of us for quite a while now. Trying, and succeeding," he gestured toward Steve, "to take over other kingdoms without even attempting to parley their wishes."
"And I suppose you want Asgard's help with that."
"We would," Harrison said. "We worked well with the Valkyrie force Odin sent."
Hela let her gaze travel over the carved table, mapping out the continent. "Dryne would be returned to its rightful ruler and Tellis Tor would be absorbed by Enra and Essar. With this one alliance," she gestured with thin, jewel-bedecked fingers at Peggy, Steve, and Bucky, "and a short war, you control everything but Asgard. What does Asgard get besides a more massive potential enemy?"
Peggy could feel her father puffing up beside her. To cut him off, she laid her hand on his arm. "I have... an idea," she said. She let her eyes travel over the map, noting the current boundaries of their kingdoms. Hela cast her bored, irritated gaze at her. Peggy inhaled deeply, calming her nerves as the risky plan coalesced in her mind. This might anger King George, though she suspected Bucky might be on her side, as long as she laid her plan out properly. "If we eradicate Alexander and Johann's forces, Dryne would revert back to Steve. With its current borders intact, here," she said, gesturing to the table's map, "at the mountain pass to Tellis Tor and here at the bottom of the valley with Enra. Tellis Tor is divided here, along the spine of these mountains. The east to Essar, the west to Enra."
"Did I not explain my position clearly enough?" Hela interrupted. "Asgard gets nothing out of this," she snarled.
Peggy did not let the other woman's foul demeanor intimidate her, though she saw in her periphery the subtle way Bucky tensed in his chair. "Enra cedes some of her fertile valley plains to the south to Asgard." She stood to get a better look at the map, "Perhaps here," she pointed, "Up to this side of the southernmost river." It was a gamble. George could outright refuse, especially with as much fertile land as she'd suggested they cede. The land they would gain to the north would be less profitable for the crops they were known for now but it wasn't completely irredeemable in quality. Tellis Tor was a great supplier of wool and livestock. As astute as Hela seemed, she may not be as versed on the best uses of the land either and may think Peggy was trying to cheat her from a better deal. Or she may see how Peggy's suggestion still kept the key trade route, the southern river, in Enra's territory.
She sat back down and glanced under her lashes at her husbands and father-in-law. George looked calm and relaxed and he gave her a tiny nod and smile when he caught her looking. Steve was studying the map and after a moment seemed to come to the conclusion that her idea was sound and looked up at Hela. Bucky alone looked uncomfortable and nervous. Under the table, Peggy pressed her leg against Steve's. He completed the hidden movement and she could visible see Bucky settle when Steve pressed his other leg against his.
Hela, for her part, had lost her vicious look while she studied the map. It sounded like a good deal for Asgard. It was, but maybe not the best it could be. Peggy felt that perhaps the other woman had been sent to intimidate because she was good at it, but when Peggy wasn't intimidated and proposed a plan instead, Hela was out of her depth. Peggy would smile and congratulate herself later if this worked.
Finally, Hela nodded. "That seems fair. Have your chancellor write it up and I'll take it to my father. We'll begin mustering our army."
From there, the meeting moved on to logistics for the supply trains and how fast they could march to make sure they weren't pressing into Dryne for a siege in the dead of winter. Enra and Essar forces would go north, conquering Tellis Tor and what remained of Alexander's army there while Asgard would travel through western Enra to move up through Dryne. They would take Dryne castle together, using Steve's Knight Commander's knowledge about the castle defenses. Hopefully the campaign would be over with a few weeks to spare before the snows began. Admittedly, it was an ambitious plan, but Peggy was confident they could make it work.
Since the bulk of the Essarian army and what was left of the Enran forces were already at Enra, they didn't need to spend a lot of time waiting before pushing north into Tellis Tor. Peggy was still new to army life, as much as any royal person was exposed to it, but Bucky and Steve had never traveled like this. It was interesting to watch them adapt to it. Bucky was antsy and tended to ride at the front of the column. Steve seemed content to ride in the middle with Peggy where they were the most protected. Every so often, Bucky would double back to ride with them, vibrating with excitement at the way the landscape was changing around them. Soon enough though, he would get antsy again and return to the front.
As they were settling down for the night near the end of their first week's march and Bucky hadn't returned yet, Peggy asked Steve about it.
"I don't think he's ever been past the village outside the gates of the castle," he said from where he was lounging on a floor pillow. He was watching her with heavy-lidded eyes as she combed her hair in front of the polished mirror Riley had hung from the top of the tent wall.
"You don't have much more experience in the world than he does."
"I have some."
"Does fleeing for one's life and grieving what one's lost count, though? You probably weren't being inspired by the landscape."
He laughed but nodded his agreement. "No, I was caught in a seemingly endless cycle of wheezing from riding hard and sores from the saddle. Coupled with grief and fear, I don't remember the scenery on the way south at all." He sighed and sat up to take a sip of spiced wine from a cup on the table before relaxing again. "I don't know why I'm not restless and awestruck by the world beyond Enra. I've read of places farther east than Wakanda, farther north than Tellis Tor, farther south than Asgard. I feel content to experience everything from the relative safety of the middle of the army."
She was thoughtful for a moment before she tucked her comb back into her toilette case. She stood and walked to him. When she was close he reached up and pulled her down to join him on the pillow. She snuggled into his embrace. "You have a better head for strategy than I do, but somehow it feels like I was the one who planned most of the campaign. Does this feel like the right path to you, or have I made an enormous blunder?"
He pressed a kiss to her neck and she could feel the stubbly beginnings of a beard prickle through her chemise. "It feels right. Besides, would your father or Bucky's have stood behind you, behind us, if they felt this were the wrong course of action?"
She grinned. "I expect not." She gently pressed her hand down on the front of his hose to cup him through the wool. He hummed an appreciative noise, and she turned in his embrace to start undoing the ties on his clothes.
They may have started without Bucky, but that didn't mean they stopped when he finally entered their tent for the evening.
The army overtook Alexander's retreating supply train shortly thereafter. It was decided that after they took the remaining supplies they would disarm the peasants and let them return to their homesteads as a gesture of goodwill. They were given the option to join the Enran and Essarian armies, but they all declined. Peggy caught a whisper of a rumor that the king had gone mad, but there was nothing substantial to back up the claim so she dismissed it from her mind. A mad king was just as dangerous as a power-hungry one in her eyes.
The closer they got to the castle of Tellis Tor, the more deserted the landscape became. They passed several villages that were completely abandoned.
As the shock cavalry knights started to congregate near the front of the column, Peggy too started to move up. Bucky fell back. They met in the middle. "Are you going to be part of the cavalry again?" Bucky asked.
"I was thinking about it. It's rather fun."
"You're not scared?"
"That's part of the fun, though, isn't it? Feeling your blood rushing high, feeling your lance—"
There was a commotion just ahead of them, where the scouts had just returned. Peggy and Bucky dropped their conversation to ride forward and listen to the report.
"The surrounding village and the castle look deserted, Your Grace," the scout was telling Harrison and George. "The drawbridge is down."
"Did you ride in?" Harrison asked, though before he could answer he leaned closer to George to speak quietly. "Sounds like an odd way to do an ambush, wouldn't you say?"
"We didn't, sir."
"I had Lucky do a fly through," Clint added. "There are no preparations for a siege on any of the walls. The stables are empty. It's like everyone just left."
Harrison looked at George, who gave him a go-ahead gesture, and Harrison nodded. "Well make camp beyond the reach of the walls as if they had trebuchets, like a standard siege. Have the carpenters and engineers and Tony work on the trebuchets." He looked back over his shoulder at Peggy. "We'll have a conversation, all of us, before any further instruction is given."
The orders were disseminated throughout the army and Steve joined Peggy and Bucky as their tent was raised. He waited until they got inside before asking, "Do you think it's a trap?"
"If so, it's a strange one. Why leave the castle bridge down?" Bucky asked. He settled on the floor pillow and groaned when his back made a popping noise. He brought his hands behind his head and closed his eyes like he was going to nap.
Peggy smiled and settled on the bench at the foot of their bed. "Well, Father's given the order for the trebuchets to be made; we're going to slight the castle."
"Are we going to go through it before it's destroyed? Maybe something inside will give us a hint about where they've gone or what happened to them. You don't think King Alexander was killed and accidentally rolled into a mass grave?" Steve seemed agitated, almost like he wanted to pace, but the restrictive size of the tent made that difficult. He finally sat at the small table. He rested his wrists on the table and picked at his cuticles distractedly.
"There might be supplies still inside if peasants haven't ransacked the place already," Bucky said.
Peggy tapped Bucky's side with the toe of her shoe. "You don't think disease would have taken what remained of the servants, do you?"
"If there's any sign of diseased bodies when we do a walk-through then we'll just leave it alone without taking anything. Better to be safe than to bring pestilence into our kingdoms," Steve said.
Peggy tapped Bucky again and he cracked his eyelids open to look at her. She just shrugged. He shifted so one of his hands was free and then drew his fingers up her calf. It tickled pleasantly and she hummed. He raised an eyebrow, opening his eyes to look at her more intently. Steve caught the display and coughed.
"Let's not start something that will get interrupted when your fathers call together the council."
Bucky pulled his hand back from under her skirt and tucked it back behind his head. "You're no fun, Steve. Part of the fun is in the thrill of almost getting caught."
* . * . *
It started to drizzle after dinner, but that didn't stop them from making plans to investigate the seemingly empty castle while they still had a few hours of daylight.
Steve, at Bucky and Peggy's insistence, had ridden with them and a small selection of Enran and Essarian knights up to the castle. When it was clear they wouldn't be attacked from the walls, Clint led the way across the drawbridge and into the bailey. Everything looked normal. The stables across the courtyard, the small training yard beside them. The chapel on the other side. The garden next to the keep was flourishing and green, even. The wind was starting to pick up and Steve could smell the ripe produce on the vine. The scent of overripe and decaying vegetables came with it. The knights dismounted first, splitting up to search the grounds. After several quiet minutes, they returned.
Nick was the one to give Bucky the first report. "There are some tools in the stables but not much else. Likely peasants might have taken what they could."
Pepper spoke next. "The granaries are mostly full and the chapel hasn't been ransacked. The valuables like the sanctified candlesticks are still there." Her last words were almost drowned out as the sky flashed and thunder rolled ominously behind it. The rain picked up.
Sam was still on horseback, sitting next to Steve. His forehead creased in thought as he asked, "What sort of peasants take the stable gear but not the valuables?"
"Pious ones, perhaps?" Steve suggested. He didn't really expect his retort to actually answer the question, but Peggy was nodding.
"Women whose husbands have been pressed into war. That's an option, I suppose."
Dum Dum was shaking his head. "I don't like this, fellas. It feels wrong."
Sam was looking around and he tipped his chin at Dum Dum. "Feels like a trap, doesn't it?"
"We'll pair off," Peggy said, grimacing slightly as the wind gusted and caused the rain to go sideways directly into her face. "We're all armored and armed."
Some of the knights looked at one another, but no one wanted to argue with her. Those still on horseback dismounted and led the horses to the sheltered section of the stables. No need for them to stand out in the rain, especially if they were leaving their gear on them in case they needed to make a hasty exit.
Steve had expected Sam to pair off with him but Bucky beat him to it. "Up or down?" Bucky asked as they entered the keep. The first thing he noticed was how the air smelt of dust. How long did it take to accumulate dust without servants cleaning often? There were lanterns hung at the base of the stairs. Bucky picked one up, opening it to light the candle inside only to find it guttered. "Well, that's not going to be any help."
Pepper was just coming into the foyer as well, and she saw the problem. "I've got some candles in my pack. I'll get them. I don't think I have enough for all of us, so any of us heading into the bowels of the castle are first priority. The upper floors are more likely to have arrow loops and windows."
Although Steve had the arming sword George had given him, he didn't feel comfortable attempting to use it. Crossbows were one thing; stabbing a man who was also within reach and more capable of stabbing him in return was another. Doing so by candlelight sounded even more like a gamble. "Up," he said to Bucky. Peggy and Clint joined them on the stairs as well, and at the first level, they split apart. Steve and Bucky continued up the stairs.
Tellis Tor was a much smaller castle than Enra or even Dryne. Older as well. The walls didn't have machicolations and Steve hadn't noticed any hoardings as they approached. There had only been the one bailey. There wasn't even a donjon. Just the single monolith of stone with a single curtain wall surrounding it. They probably should have started their investigation on the second floor but he was intrigued. For such a small castle, how many floors were there? The answer, as they continued up the spiraling stair, was three.
Worn tapestries hung along the short hallway. Between them were four doors to the only rooms on the floor. Steve assumed they were going to be bedrooms. He walked to the farthest one and, after a deep breath to calm his nerves, opened it. A small bedroom and solar, empty aside from the furniture. He walked further into the room and dust kicked up into a cloud at his feet. The air smelt of mildew. The only window, at the top of the outside wall, was missing its glass. The storm clouds that had moved in overhead made what little light coming in dim.
Bucky had followed him. He didn't act like he was nervous at all. The foreboding atmosphere apparently didn't faze him. He shuffled through the chest at the foot of the bed, tossing moth-eaten woolen gowns across the footboard as he rummaged around in the bottom of the trunk.
"What are you looking for?" Steve asked, even as he turned to look at the toilette against the wall. Makeup containers, their contents dried and old, were scattered across the tabletop. Perfume bottles evaporated of their contents were laying on their sides.
"Jewelry. Anything that might be of value," he turned and took a step in Steve's direction. He squinted at the small hand mirror on the table and then tapped it with a finger. When he stepped back Steve noticed how the glass in it was cracked. "There's nothing in here. Obviously, King Alexander hasn't had guests. This room hasn't been occupied in a while."
They moved on to the next. All three were in similar states to the first, and even Steve was disheartened. He didn't know what he'd expected to find, but surely Alexander would have had something valuable in the castle, even if he'd fled before they'd arrived. He hoped there might be spices or usable foodstuffs or even wool downstairs. Something that would prove the land valuable. George and Bucky, at Peggy's inclination, had traded usable land for this rocky land.
They went down a floor and started in the closest rooms this time. The first one they entered wasn't a bedroom but an odd mix of trophy room and personal armory. There were enormous, heavy-looking crossbows on the wall and swords that Steve was sure were longer than he was tall. On the floor was a bear pelt, so large that spread flat as it was, each clawed paw touched either side of the room. There were also several varieties of shields painted from all the kingdoms, including one from Dryne. It was a rotella. The red and blue quartered field was chipped, but the silver star in the middle was still shiny. He brushed his fingers along its edge as they left the room.
The next two doors led to bedrooms that seemed more lived in. The dust was sparse and the clothing in the trunks was still wearable. The scent of flowers still clung to some of them. Bucky found some jewelry and an oiled sword with jewels encrusted in the handle and on the scabbard. He left them on the bed so they could come back and retrieve them after they finished looking through the rooms.
The last door on the floor was stuck, and Bucky pushed his weight against it once before Steve spotted the reason it was stuck. Wedged in the corner at the bottom was a block of wood about the size of his fist. He pointed it out to Bucky and then bent to retrieve it. He had to use both hands and pull back before it started to wiggle. It came loose all at once.
The door swung open quickly and knocked Steve off balance. He fell onto his backside just as something—someone—stumbled out of the door. Whoever it was tripped over him.
Bucky screamed.
It wasn't a startled scream but one of pain. Steve stood up to see Bucky holding his hand to his left shoulder, blood soaking into the sleeve of his gambeson. He was stumbling backward away from the man who had stabbed him but he had nowhere to go. He'd turned the wrong way, away from the stairs, and was now blocked by the figure.
The figure was thin and wore a king's cloak about his bony shoulders. He was holding a needle-like dagger even as he took another stumbling, shuffling step toward Bucky.
Steve didn't think about the sword at his belt. He darted back to the armory and grabbed the rotella with its bright star of Dryne. He rushed back out and, holding the shield on either side, rammed into the figure. He was so frail that he fell easily. His dagger tumbled from his grip and skittered across the floor. Steve brought the shield up once more and brought it down hard on the body underneath him. Something cracked and the man didn't move again.
Steve looked up to see fear and pain still bright in Bucky's eyes. Behind him, he could hear Clint's shouts and footsteps against stone. Clint grabbed his shoulder and pulled him to his feet. "What happened?" he asked but when he didn't get much of an answer from Steve he passed him back to the next set of hands. Peggy's. Behind her, he could see the scarlet hair of Natasha and he caught a brief glance of Dum Dum's burnished grey breastplate.
The fear had faded from Bucky's eyes but he was still clutching his left shoulder. Blood had soaked the fabric and had formed a rivulet down his hand. It dripped from his limp fingers.
Steve, Bucky, the body and the few items of value were moved to the great hall. The fading light from the sun lit the space better than the hallway they'd been in. Natasha had pushed Bucky down into a chair and peeled his armor off to get at his wound. Clint sat Steve on his other side so he couldn't see the wound and Peggy sat beside him, rubbing his back.
"What happened?" Clint asked again when they were settled.
"We'd checked the third floor and didn't find anything then moved to the second. Checked all the rooms but the last one," Steve explained. "It had something wedging the door shut, I removed it, and—"
"You didn't find it odd that a door was barred from the outside?" Natasha asked, turning her head to look at him. Her eyebrows were pinched close and he could see the disappointment and worry written in the expression.
"Everything had been covered in dust," Bucky said softly. He grimaced when Natasha did something to his arm but continued, "we let our guard down."
"I'll say," Clint agreed. He, too, sounded angry. He turned to the body next, rolling it over to get a better look at it.
In Steve's ear, Peggy whispered, "Don't worry. He's not angry with you, he's upset that one of us got hurt."
"King's cloak," Clint said, picking up the dagger that had been brought down with the body. He used it to flip open the cloak. "Kingly overcoat." He wiped the dagger on the fabric and then used it to cut the coin purse from the man's belt. He hefted it in his hands to judge the weight of it. "King's purse." He then tapped the crown buried down under the man's dirty blond hair. When the crown didn't budge he frowned and looked closer. "It's been fastened to his head," he mumbled, "gross." He stood, evidently satisfied that this was most likely King Alexander. When he stood, Steve could see the grime of dried blood on the man's aged face.
Clint moved to investigate the rotella next. He picked it up and flipped it around. The leather handles had disintegrated and broken. He turned it slowly to see the front. The Drynian star was smeared red. "How did you even wield this?"
Steve held up both hands to display how he did it and Clint nodded. "It seems ol' Alex here was the last person in the castle. Let's get you guys back to camp." He frowned at Bucky and mumbled, "And hope your father doesn't kill me."
"Is he sick?" Steve asked, then when Clint cocked his head in question, he amended and pointed to the body, "Was he sick?"
"Like, diseased?" Clint asked, he turned and looked the body over. "Nah, don't look like it. We won't take him back, just in case. Someone can get some peasants to come dig a hole for him before we slight the castle if you like." Steve nodded dumbly and let Peggy lead him from the castle. The storm was still ongoing as they rode back to camp and they were drenched by the time he, Peggy, and Bucky were back in their tent.
Between a worried visit from George and another from one of their healers, it was a long time before they got some rest.
* . * . *
With no defenders, it was easy enough to move the trebuchets close enough to slight the castle without dragging it out. The sound of collapsing stone beyond their tent walls as the trebuchets were launched played a backdrop to the conversation that Peggy, Steve, and Bucky were having.
It wasn't going in Peggy's favor.
"I really think it would be best if you took a small group of men and rode home. We can handle this without you."
Bucky was sitting on the bed with his left arm held close to his body. His clothing was arranged in a way to keep the bandages and poultice in place. His jaw was clenched but she couldn't tell if it was from pain or from stubborn determination to argue with her. "This is our fight too."
"If anything, this is Steve's fight," she countered.
Steve sighed a little but didn't speak.
"Bucky, you can't move your arm. You said it yourself, your fingers are numb. You need bed rest and care from a healer. You flinch when the bed jars when Steve and I lay beside you. Riding a horse is going to be painful enough. You don't need to subject yourself to worse." She paused to breathe, to calm her tone. Nagging him would make him dig his heels in further. "The peasants say that the pass is dangerous. It's possible the rains would have loosened the rock. A mountain goat high on a cliff above could cause an avalanche."
"Then why are we taking our army through it?" Bucky asked. His tone, too, had grown sharp and loud. "Soldiers. On foot. Not the least bit capable of outrunning falling rock. It's debatable that our horses would even be capable of outrunning it."
"Because it would take too much time to travel all the way south back through Enra and around the mountains. Asgard is expecting us on the other side."
"And if we fail to make the engagement?" he asked.
Steve spoke up from where he was sitting at the table. "Then we quite possibly lose them as allies."
"And that's worth the risk?" Bucky asked.
"Yes," Peggy said. She crossed her arms and pushed the topic back to what she'd been insisting on. "You, however, don't need to take that risk."
"I'm riding with you. I'm seeing this through. What can the healers back at Enra do that the healers here haven't already done? We've just go to wait to see if feeling comes back. Sitting in bed miles away from you two isn't going to guarantee healing." Bucky gestured toward Steve with his good arm but winced as it jarred his torso. "Steve, back me up. I'm going with you. This is important for you, and I'm going to be there."
Steve looked between them and raised both hands. "I can see both sides of the argument, and I'm not taking either person's side," he prefaced. "I can see Peggy's side because I'm worried about the pass and how painful it's going to be if you have to ride at full gallop. I know her fear and worry because it's my own. But I know how loyal you are, and retaking Dryne is important to me. I know you wouldn't want to be anywhere else than at my side as we do this."
Peggy could see she was going to lose the argument and gave one more plea. "Then ride to Essar instead of Enra. There's a garrison outpost closer than Enra castle. We can send a raven or... or Lucky, with a message to have one of the Essarian healers come to the outpost to treat you."
Bucky shook his head. "No. Tomorrow, when you mount up to ride through the pass, I'm going with you."
She was so angry her teeth hurt. She wanted to cry in frustration. Couldn't he see that with a wound like his if he didn't take strict precautions and follow a healer's advice he may lose the mobility of his arm? She wanted to storm from the tent, to hide her emotions, to rage, to strike something. Instead, she stomped over to the floor pillow and flopped down with her back to the bed and Bucky in it. In the corner of the polished mirror hanging from the tent wall, she could just make out the image of Bucky's face going tender as he looked at her back.
Steve reached out and touched her with gentle hands, removing her coif and taking the pins out of her hair. When it was down and loose, he rubbed his fingers against her scalp. She closed her eyes and let his sweet caress ease the tension from her body. Too bad it didn't remove her worry.
* . * . *
Steve had never been through the mountain pass between Tellis Tor and Dryne. Though Dryne had always had a garrison on this part of their border, very few people traveled this way. He could see why. The road was carved into the side of the mountain. It was low enough to sea level that if someone fell off the road, they'd tumble right into sharp rocks and crashing waves of the sea. The road was wide enough for ten men to walk abreast but behind them, the column was folding in on itself, narrowing to five men walking shoulder to shoulder. The cavalry did likewise, dropping to riding two people side by side. Peggy's brother Michael suggested she and he ride alongside one another, so Steve rode beside Bucky.
Bucky did not look nervous about the steep wall of rock to their left. He was focusing on holding his arm so it wouldn't jar too much with every step of his horse. Steve kept glancing over at him, ostensibly to look out at the sea—which he'd never seen before—but he was worried for him. Every so often Steve would catch him wiggling his fingers, or reaching up with the other hand to squeeze at them, testing how numb they really were.
Steve was nervous about the precipitous rock wall beside them, and he kept his gaze averted from it for most of the stretch. The sea held his attention. It was dark blue, darker than the books and Peggy made it out to be, and wild. But it was only wild where it stubbornly rushed forward to meet the mountain. It seemed continuously angry to find the mountain in its path despite their coexistence since the beginning of time. It reminded him of Peggy somehow, at turns calm and stubbornly angry. He wondered if something similar could be said about him. Was he also influenced by the location of his kingdom along the sea, despite having never seen it? Or perhaps his unyielding nature was guided by the high stone walls of Dryne castle and the harsh winters that blanketed the kingdom.
When they had traversed the length of the pass, the road widened and gently turned. The Dryne River valley opened out below them. From their vantage point, they could see the river winding through the valley bottom and villages spreading out along its banks. Wide managed copses of spruce and pine and firs separated them along the valley floor and up the gently sloping sides at the base of the mountains. The seasons hadn't turned yet so everything was still lush and green and beautiful.
They could even see the Asgardian army just coming around the foot of the farthest mountain.
To their right, built into the mountain was Dryne castle. It looked imposing with its dark grey stones and spires, but it inspired such emotion in Steve's chest he thought tears might pour from his eyes.
He was coming home.
* . * . *
It took another week to get their armies into position. Peggy started to feel the restlessness that had so wound Bucky up on the first leg of their journey. It crept into every moment until she couldn't stand still. To stop from wandering too far and getting lost, she spent much of the days wandering through the villages along the river. The valley floor was covered with soldiers' tents and the typical soldiery things, but the peasants in the villages didn't seem to mind. They were a hardy folk, who, if you dallied too long attempting to draw them out for conversation, would sooner put you to work, no matter if you wore a crown or royal colors. She could see how Steve came from stock like this. They were practical and hardworking and didn't believe in wasting anything.
The attack on the castle was not left in Peggy's hands. Instead, Sam, Steve's Knight Commander, was put in charge of a majority of the force available to him. He knew the weather and the castle better than anyone. "With how flush the villages are with peasants, I'd say Johann has already ejected the majority of non-essentials from the castle. The storerooms underneath can typically sustain a small retinue for months—well into the winter seasons where the snows and bitter cold will kill the surrounding army," he said. He was standing in front of a wide, rickety table in their command tent. The Royals were there, even Bucky—as sitting here listening to a war plan wasn't any more physically demanding that laying in their bed—and the commanders of the different units within both the Asgardian, Essarian, and Enran armies. It was quite crowded.
"I want to do this with the least amount of bloodshed as possible, like most reasonable people," Sam continued, "so we're going to just camp out. Build a few trebuchets—or at least give the illusion that we're building them because we don't want to damage the walls too much—and after two or three weeks, when they realize we're planning on trying to starve them out, we go in through the back door."
"It can't be that easy. Sally ports are notoriously hard to infiltrate," Commander Chester said.
"Dryne doesn't have a sally port. It's built into the mountain. There are several caves that come up underneath the castle that are used for a similar purpose. Only someone who knows the right way would be able to infiltrate the castle from them and there are too many to properly guard without giving away the right path."
"And I take it you're our guide?"
"Yes," Sam said, nodding. "We'll use the Valkyries and their pterippi as a distraction while well-armored soldiers who are used to close combat sneak into the castle from underneath."
Chester looked vaguely impressed.
* . * . *
When the time came for Sam's plan to go into action, he stopped by their tent. Bucky was dozing and only heard part of the conversation between the Knight Commander and Steve. "If anything happens, promise me you'll take care of Riley. And Red Wing."
"You're going to be fine, Sam," Steve said, "but I promise."
They said their goodbyes and then Steve wandered over. "Want to play chess, Buck?"
Bucky roused himself a bit and vocalized something that might have been an affirmative. He was so tired of bedrest already. He wiggled his fingers on his left hand, and as he'd started doing, reached over to touch each finger with the other. Pinky, ring finger, and middle finger were numb. Half of the first finger and the first knuckle of the thumb. It frustrated him greatly. He sat up and Steve fluffed some pillowed behind him so he could be propped up to see the chessboard.
As they took their first move or two, something that Bucky had thought about at the council meeting in the command tent came back to him. "If the castle has such good defenses, why did your mom send you away when Johann attacked?" he asked. He realized it was probably an insensitive question and braced himself for a hurt expression he expected Steve to get.
He surprised him, shrugging and taking his next move. "Before I was born, Johann was my father's Knight Commander. He did something on a campaign—my mother never told me, but I suspect it was something horrendous—and Father banished him."
"So he knew how to navigate the caves under the castle like Sam does," Bucky said.
Steve nodded, then gestured to the board. Bucky looked back down at it and called out his move so Steve could move the piece for him.
"You know, it's been interesting to see how the two of you look at the landscape here in awe," Steve said after a few quiet minutes. "I suppose I'd look at her homeland the same way. I almost feel bad taking her away from it."
Bucky looked up from the game and blinked. "Taking her away from it? What do you mean?"
"Well, if this is successful, then we'll be living here." He gestured over his shoulder in the general direction of the castle.
"We'll be living... oh."
"What?" Steve asked. He shifted his weight in his chair.
"I... I didn't say goodbye to mom and Becca," Bucky confessed. His heart hurt with the thought. He'd given them both a hug and a kiss but it hadn't occurred to him that he was leaving home for good. "I mean, properly. I just... I don't even know what Ian packed for me. Did he pack all of my things? I..." Bucky couldn't bring himself to look at Steve. He felt like maybe he was being rude or selfish, thinking about things like that, especially in light of how Steve had needed to leave everything behind when he fled six years ago.
"It's not like I'm going to keep you here, Buck!" his tone didn't sound angry, and Bucky looked up to confirm it. No, Steve was smiling. "You'll see them again. Didn't Harrison even say his wife was planning a tourney for the coming year? 'In honor of their first grandchild'," he quoted.
Bucky could feel the heat of a blush suffusing his face a little, but as it faded it took with it the sense of loss he was feeling when he thought about his mother and his sister. Steve was right, of course. He'd seen them again. Maybe even soon. "With as much time as we've been spending with Peggy, that sort of thing might happen as quickly as they imagined."
"Maybe," Steve said, his eyes going distant with thought. "maybe we can ask for a few pterippi foals from Asgard. So the three of us could fly to Enra or Essar." He laughed and added, "I don't think the retinue would appreciate that, but it's a thought."
Bucky rolled his eyes at Steve's fanciful comments but smiled nonetheless. He wasn't losing anything or anyone. Marrying his best friend—and Peggy—had gained him a larger family and allies. He gestured to the board and Steve looked back down at it before moving his next piece.
Sometime later, Riley interrupted them, "King Steven, King Harrison is here to speak with you," he said. He spoke softly, but his voice carried enough through the tent walls.
"Send him in, Riley," Steve said. He turned just as Riley pulled the flap up and Harrison stepped in. He was a barrel-chested man and he stood with his hands on his hips, taking up space in their relatively small tent. He glanced around and then looked at Bucky and Steve. "She's not here with you, is she?"
"No," Steve answered. "I thought she'd gone for a walk. She's been a bit restless lately."
"I tend to have Clint follow her when she does, and he uses Lucky to keep an eye on her. He's gone with Sam and the others to infiltrate the castle."
Bucky's heart felt as if it seized up. "You think she went with them?"
He nodded, shifting to cross his arms over his chest. "She's always been headstrong, but I told her she ought not to go." He sighed and rubbed his hand over his eyes. "I probably shouldn't have said anything. I guess all we can do now is wait." Bucky could see the troubled look in his eyes even as he nodded and left. He looked back to Steve to find him also looking anxious.
"She's probably fine. She's a knight. She's well protected. And Clint and Natasha wouldn't let anything happen—"
"She could be wearing someone else's armor. They might not know it's her if she's got her helmet on!" Steve said, standing up to pace.
"She's probably not wearing her riding helmet," Bucky said, shifting on the bed to try and sit up straighter. "Not in the caves in the dark. They know she's with them. They'll keep her safe." Steve frowned and Bucky wanted to reach out and touch him. "Come here. Move the board, and come here." Steve listened and settled on the bed next to Bucky. Bucky wrapped his right arm around his shoulders and pressed a kiss to his temple. "She'll be fine. You'll see."
They fell asleep like that, curled around each other as best as Bucky could manage.
They woke much later and the tent was dark and quiet. Beyond it, however, sounded like a shouting match. One of the voices was Peggy's.
"Wake up, Stevie," Bucky mumbled into his ear. He suspected Steve had woken from the sound just as he had, but he needed to share the relief he felt at hearing their wife's voice. Had it been only a few months ago that he'd been so scared and repulsed at the idea of marrying a stranger? How did she become so important to him in such a short time? It baffled him.
The shouting got closer until the tent flapped flew open and Peggy stomped in. She was wearing Steve's gambeson. The light from the small campfires lit her from behind, but they didn't disguise the dark spots on the fabric. Bucky let his gaze trail over her arms, her torso, even her legs, but she didn't seem to be hurt anywhere. "I was perfectly safe, Father!" she was saying over her shoulder.
Harrison hadn't come into the tent, but Bucky could see his silhouette in the opening.
"How could you be? You have to take better precautions, Pegs. You can't just go off like that. It's not like sparring with the knights, or even tourney training."
She had just finished pulling her gloves off, and she tucked them into the crook of her elbow before she turned around to look at him. "I wanted to know why, all right?"
"Why what?"
"Why Johann sought out Steve. Why he turned on Alexander. Why he nailed the man's crown into his head before barring him in a room and leaving him to starve. What kind of monster does that to someone, even a foe? And a second-hand account wasn't going to cut it for me. So I went myself."
Harrison's silhouette shifted, allowing more light from the campfire to illuminate the tent. "And did you find out what sort of monster he was?"
She paused in her unfastening, leaving the padded fabric to hang from her shoulders. "A mad one. One who heard voices and thought he was blessed enough to be hearing the Gods. A monster who hurt innocent people in his care." Her voice had shifted from angry to disgusted as she spoke. Bucky wondered what she'd seen and what sort of confession she had got out of the man before she'd killed him. He expected he didn't truly want to know the horror of it. "Johann the Usurper is gone. The Red Skull, the madman he turned into, is gone. It's done. The castle is ours." She shrugged off the gambeson and set it over the back of the chair at the table. "Goodnight, father. I'll tell you more tomorrow, but tonight I'm weary."
"I'm glad you're okay, Peggy," he said softly. He turned and walked away, and the tent flap that he'd been holding open fell back closed, blanketing them in darkness again.
"We're glad you're okay too," Bucky called to her.
"You could have asked to borrow my armor," Steve said, sounding annoyed. "Or, you know, let us know you were going to be part of the group infiltrating the castle. So we wouldn't have worried quite so much."
Bucky felt her slip into the bed on Steve's other side. "I'm sorry," she said. "Though I suspected you wouldn't approve of me going either."
"If I weren't on mandatory bed rest, I'd have wanted to join you," Bucky said. He reached out to touch her hair. She laced her fingers with his instead.
"I know."
* . * . *
Steve's footsteps echoed in the empty stone hallway. The tapestries had all been removed. The grand paintings in the great hall had been whitewashed and everything that he remembered decorating the castle of his childhood seemed to be gone. But the corridors were the same. The family rooms and his mother's solar where he used to play hide and seek as a child were still there, even if the furniture had changed.
Sam had not allowed Steve into the castle until the dead had been removed and the evidence of the battle inside had been washed away. He said he didn't want any reminders of the monster who'd roamed the halls here left behind. Steve didn't know if the servants Sam had instructed to do that had been over-enthusiastic in washing the murals away or if they'd been washed away by Johann before that. It didn't matter. He had plans for the walls, and after his official coronation, he'd start hiring artists to paint the walls anew.
Even the throne in the great hall was different, garish, with human skulls coated in iron attached to the back and armrests. Riley was coordinating with someone, maybe Dum Dum and the other knights, to have it taken out and a new one built.
Steve completed his walkthrough, which he'd requested to take alone, and set aside his nostalgia and reminiscing. His mother was dead. He'd known that, of course, but he'd always had a childish hope that he'd see her again. He'd found her tombstone in the chapel graveyard before he'd even been allowed inside the castle walls. He felt somehow both lost, adrift in a blinding emotional snowstorm that had come over him quickly, and cozy, at home as if in front of a blazing fire. The dichotomy of it baffled him, but he supposed that was to be expected. He'd left his old life behind when he'd fled six years ago, and now here he was, returned and glorious with the aid of allies and friends.
He took a deep breath, smelling the fragrant branches of fir and spruce that had been brought into the castle to cheer up the austerity of it, and took the last few steps down the stairs. Standing at the doors to the great hall were Bucky and Peggy. The smiled upon seeing him and Peggy reached for him.
"Is it how you remember it?" she asked as he drew nearer, taking her hand in his and squeezing before letting go.
"More or less," Steve answered.
Bucky smiled and reached out to brush at the hair over Steve's ears. He felt his crown settle deeper into his hair; it felt more steady on his head. "Ready for your first feast as king of your own castle?"
"As long as you're both with me, I'm sure we can handle it."
They both laughed, and Peggy leaned over, bumping his shoulder with hers. "I don't know, you haven't seen my knights let loose, really. They get wild."
"Probably not any worse than mine," Bucky answered back. Steve smiled and nodded to the servants at the door. They opened the door and Steve walked in, Bucky and Peggy only a step behind.