Work Text:
a brooklyn boys fairy tale
There are two very important things you need to know about Dragons.
One - they always need to have a Hoard.
Two - they always need a Princess.
Iacov of the House of Drăculești always had to be the different one. In America, where he was born, instead of the native land of his ancestors, his father named him James Buchanan - for an American President - and Barnes because, as his Grandfather had put it, running around with the family name of Dracul was just going to invite all sorts of trouble. So the family took on the name of Barnes, with suitably American first names and tried to live as peacefully as Dragons who walked in human form could possibly be.
In America, Iacov was better known as Bucky because, really, there were just too many James and Jimmys and Jaimes and Jims running around and it was just too confusing for Mrs. Barnes to holler “JIMMY-BOY!” and have about a dozen other heads turn ‘round, not wanting to upset their mamas and be late for supper. So Bucky it was.
And young Bucky was doing all the things little kids do, with the addition of dreaming about his future Hoard and who his Princess was going to be. His Papa had told him how he’d won and wooed his own Princess and well, Mrs. Barnes would always blush and swat at her husband when he told the story but there was a glow in her eyes and while they weren’t sitting on a bed of gold, they were happy.
His Papa had hoarded happiness and guarded it jealously, as any good Dragon would. So the Barnes family was well and content.
Bucky, of course, wanted something like that when he was older.
So naturally, he meets his Prince when he was about seven years old.
One does not have to be a Dragon to simply not go looking for trouble and avoiding the neighborhood bullies was pretty much plain old common sense talking. Except that Bucky finds this tiny, tow-headed kid who’s maybe no bigger than a kitten but was still kicking and clawing like an alley cat twice his size and weight. And he was aiming all that fury at two of the neighborhood’s meanest kids - Joey Simmons and Big Carl Harper.
Bucky takes it all in - a broken doll, little Betsy Robinson in tears and sporting a cut on her lip - and okay, he has a pretty clear picture of what just happened.
What he didn’t quite understand was the compulsion to wade in and save Betsy’s wheezy, tiny, kitten…. er…. knight in dirty khakis from the two bullies. But Bucky goes in - gets Joey with a good jab to the eye; breaks Big Carl’s nose. He sends them off with a kick in the pants for good measure.
Kitten takes another wheezy breath, puts up his hands.
"Hey! Holster those guns, son, I’m on your side," Bucky tells him, staring down at wary blue eyes and internally wincing at the bruises liberally all over his face and the rest of his body.
"I had them on the ropes," Kitten…. okay, he really needs to find out this kid’s name soon or kitten was going to stick, because honestly, he did look like the cutest, scrawniest, most contrary puss Bucky had ever seen.
"You were very brave, Steve!" pipes up little Betsy. She tiptoes and gives him a smacking kiss on the cheek.
Steve - so that was the kitten’s name - blushes and cringes but Betsy already runs off home with her dolly in tow.
Bucky grins. “Will you look at that - she didn’t even give me a kiss. There were two of us being her knights in shining armor after all.”
Steve shakes his head. “I wasn’t in it for kisses… I just don’t like bullies, is all.”
"Well, I’d normally tell ya to steer clear of those two particular clowns but if it’s to save a dame, I don’t suppose I can blame ya. Anyway, those two were about due for a good smack or two. You inspired me." And finally, Bucky gives his name.
And that’s how he finds out in return that his Prince’s name is Steven Grant Rogers.
It’s not easy, figuring out that your Princess was actually a Prince. It’s not easy when your Prince is a trouble-prone, fierce little thing with the kindest, purest heart in the entire world. It’s not easy when your Prince’s body doesn’t match the strength of his very soul, when winter creeps in and the slightest cold breeze might mean that he’ll eventually be wracked with coughs and burning with fever.
It’s not easy, but Bucky’s a Dragon. He knows how to take care of his Prince.
So he watches and takes care of Steve Rogers, all throughout their childhood and their adolescence and entry to adulthood, shares both the good times and the bad, trade jokes and secrets and snark and sass. Steve’s the one who learns who Bucky’s first kiss is - but that was because Norma Jean wasn’t the type of gal who’d take “no” for an answer. Bucky’s the one who learns that Steve hasn’t really had a real first love yet and quietly listens to his worry if there’s something wrong with him, that he doesn’t seem to like any of the girls at school or in their neighborhood, not in that way, at least.
Steve wants to be an artist and Bucky follows him into art school but his real love is with the camera and it’s Steve who scrimps and saves and surprises him with a second-hand Brownie for his birthday.
And all throughout are Steve’s frequent illnesses, times when the priest gets called in for Last Rites and Bucky makes his own fervent bargains for his Prince to be spared, wonders if he dared take that final step, allow Old Blood and ancient magic to bind Steve to him, tie their lives together, never to be parted.
And later, Bucky realizes that his Dragon’s Hoard consists of memories.
Memories of the way Steve’s hair would fall into his eyes and the way he’d sweep it out of the way with an impatient huff. The way he looked when he was concentrating on a sketch, brow furrowed, eyes intense in concentration. The way he smiled, left side of his mouth first, before it turns into this blinding grin that made his heart skip a few beats. The cadence of his voice as he shaped Bucky’s name, his scent, the feel of his skin when Bucky would curl close around him in their shared bed, keeping him warm.
He Hoards all those memories, guards them jealously, because there’s always the fear that one day, his Prince would be taken from him and then…. well, Dragons, especially the Dragons of his bloodline, have never really taken the loss of beloved ones well.
His grandfather had been lost to rage.
His father had been lost to grief.
Bucky’s not sure which path he’d take but he is sure he’d end up walking either of those roads anyway.
But then war came and Bucky was called to serve as a soldier and he’d gone unwillingly, but sure in the hope that his Prince’s frailty would at least keep him safe from the war, keep him home where he belonged.
But then again, Steve was never one to sit and wait. So with the help of some scientist’s serum - and who knew, if there was actual magic involved in this, no one had ever been able to recreate the formula after all - Steve would be doing the rescuing this time around. And this time, he’d finally have the body and the strength to match that great heart.
Bucky thought his Prince wouldn’t need a Dragon by his side anymore.
Of course, Steve would prove him wrong.
Also, they would have a fine argument over Steve jumping over what everyone thought was a live grenade and Bucky would have a Serious Discussion about this with their Commanding Officer - never mind chain of command and respecting rank. Nobody would bring harm to his Prince, not if this Dragon could help it.
It would have been nice if this story could end in “and they lived happily ever after” but it would not, at least not for Dragons.
There was one last mission.
There was a train.
There was a great fall.
And Bucky’s last thoughts were At least, if somebody had to go, it was me.
And he hoped that Steve would find comfort in the lovely Agent Carter, a damsel who was definitely never in distress. He hoped Steve would at least find his happily ever after.
And he thought he would end in ice and cold and stillness. A fitting resting place, for a Dragon.
He was so very wrong.
Even Dragons could be bound. Even Dragons could be broken. And everyone knew that Dragon Hoards could be stolen.
They’d stolen his name, his self and they had thought they had ripped from him every last memory. They’d broken and remade him, gave him a metal arm to replace the flesh one he’d lost in his fall, shaped him into a Weapon.
They called him the Winter Soldier.
And for a very, very long time, the Dragon that had been James Buchanan Barnes, Iacov of the House of Drăculești, was nothing more than the obedient Asset of HYDRA.
HYDRA’s bonds wouldn’t be broken until one Certain Person called their Asset by his name, his own true name.
Bucky?
Memory was his Hoard, carefully guarded, carefully cherished, even through excruciating pain and torment and horror upon horror. There was one last Memory clinging to him - a memory of bright hair and summer-sky eyes, a smile, a small, frail body that enclosed the kindest, purest heart in all the world. The Dragon had managed to keep it secret, keep this one last remnant safe, the treasure that was most precious to him in all the worlds.
His Prince.
Steve.
Once upon a time, a Dragon who wore the shape of a man named James Buchanan Barnes, made his Prince a promise.
I’m with you ‘til the end of the line.
As promises go, it wasn’t something lightly made and a Dragon’s Word was not one to be easily broken. It also meant something else.
What the Dragon really meant was I love you.
It took a while for this Dragon’s Prince to really understand what the words meant. But eventually, he did, because he made the same promise back to his Dragon and he meant every word.
Then finish it, ‘cause I’m with you ‘till the end of the line.
What the Prince really meant was I love you. And I won’t live in a world where your death would be on my hands. My life is yours. Always yours.
That, more than anything, brought his Dragon back to him.
It would take a while for the two of them to heal, for the Dragon to reclaim his true name and every last bit of his lost Hoard of Memory. But they managed to do this together and they had help from more than a few friends along the way.
Once upon a time, there was a Prince who really didn’t think of himself as royalty, because he was just Steven Grant Rogers, a kid from Brooklyn. He gave his Dragon something precious to start his new Hoard with, something that would carry them both to happily ever after.
He gave him hope.
And they lived.
- end -