Work Text:
Steven Rogers sat quietly in the coach as it crossed through the countryside. The young attorney was on his way to Castle Buchanan to assist Nicholas Fury's newest client, who wished to purchase Carfax Abby. He was eager to volunteer for the assignment, as it meant getting away from London, if not for a short while. He had acquaintances in the city, however he often felt lonely in his quiet home. His mother's health had begun to fail in her later years, and her care had fallen to Steven. He was hardly bitter for not having a social life because of it, in fact, he missed her terribly, despite her death having occurred well over a year ago.
Steven looked out the window as the coach began to slow down. They were approaching the mountains, and a rocky terrain had replaced the green fields. Steven knew that he was to meet another coachman who would take him to Castle Buchanan, but he did not see anyone waiting for him. The coachman who had carried him to this point seemed to be in a hurry as he helped Steven with his luggage. He supposed that he had a schedule to keep, and other passengers to tend to, but he also was aware of the superstition that surrounded the area. Talk of monsters who drained the blood of their victims had reached London, and while Steven did not believe in such tales, he had to admit as the coachman urged his horses to walk on that the sound of wolves howling in the distance did make him feel a little uneasy.
It was not long before the new coachman arrived. Steven held out a hand to introduce himself, but the driver picked up his luggage and loaded it in the coach before opening the door for him.
“Thank you.” Steven said as he climbed inside. “How long will it be-“
His question was cut off by the door being shut, and the driver climbed back into his seat and signaled the horses to walk. The speed was much faster than the previous coachman had used, and within a few short minutes, a large castle was coming into view. Steven took a moment to admire the architecture, even if he did find the style to be a bit on the dark and dreary side. The coach stopped in front of the doors and the driver was again silent as he opened the door for Steven and pulled out his luggage. Steven watched as he climbed back into the driver's seat and told his horses to walk. The coach went back through the main gates of the castle and seemed to disappear into the fog that had begun to settle.
Steven became aware another presence and turned toward it. A young man stood at the door, holding a lantern. He had long dark hair that reached his shoulders, and striking blue eyes.
“I am Count Buchanan.” He said finally, gesturing to himself. “Welcome to my house, Mr. Rogers.”
“Thank you.” Steven said, bowing slightly in respect. “Forgive me, Count. I was not expecting to meet someone so young.”
The Count smiled, revealing white teeth. “I am much older than I appear, I assure you. Please, come with me.”
Steven reached for his luggage, but to his surprise, the Count had somehow closed the distance between them and picked up the heavy bag himself as if it weighed nothing. Not wishing to insult his host, Steven silently followed. The count walked into the hall where a table had been prepared with various foods fit for the king. Count Buchanan gestured for Steven to sit.
“Please, eat.” The Count said. “Forgive me for not joining you. I have already dined this evening.”
Steven began to eat as the Count looked through the paperwork.
“This is impressive.” The Count said. “Mr. Fury was clearly not exaggerating his praises for you.”
Steven smiled, happy to hear that his employer was still happy with his work after having taken so much time off to tend to his mother.
“May I ask, Count Buchanan,” Steven said as he finished his plate. “Why Carfax Abby?”
“I confess that it gets rather lonely in my castle.” The Count replied. “I wish to be around people, and London seems to be the most ideal location.”
“It is at that.” Steven said with a smile. “London certainly is a lively city.”
“I wonder…” The Count said slowly. “If you would be so kind as to accompany me there, and perhaps give me a tour. You of course, would be more than welcome to stay in the Abby. In fact, I would insist upon it.”
“I would be most honored, Count.” Steven said. “Shall we sign the paperwork?”
“That can wait until morning.” Count Buchanan said. “It is late, and you have had a long journey.”
Steven did not realize how tired he was, but he was grateful for the Count’s generosity and said as much.
“Think nothing of it.” The Count said. “Follow me, I shall lead you to your chambers.”
Steven followed his host, and was suddenly struck by the thought of how easy, albeit limited, their conversation and interactions were. When Mr. Fury had told him that the Count had lived alone for many years in a castle, he had expected an older man who would not be nearly as accommodating as Count Buchanan had been. In fact, he had been prepared to present the Count the necessary paperwork to sign, and be sent on his way. Instead, he was offered a meal and an evening’s respite from the travel. He was surprised that the Count would want a stranger to show him around London, but reasoned that it was clear that he had no acquaintances to ask, so why not him?
Steven stepped into the room after the Count opened the door for him and marveled at the design of the room and the furnishing. A large four poster bed with fine sheets and a comforter was in the center of the room near a fireplace. Bookshelves lined one of the walls, and a cushioned armchair was positioned in front of the fire.
“I trust this room is to your liking?” The Count said as he set Steven’s luggage down at the foot of the bed.
“It is incredible.” Steven replied, taking his gaze away from the tapestries that hung throughout the room.
“Have a good night’s rest then.” Count Buchanan said. “Until tomorrow.”
~~~~~
Victory would soon be theirs. He could feel it, taste it. Even now, the enemy’s army was running away. He looked on as the men cheered for their commander as he rode through, having led them to defend their home against the would-be invaders. He smiled as Kirbon dismounted his horse and pulled him into his arms, kissing him deeply.
“We did it.” Kirbon said proudly.
“You did it.” Bruting replied. “You inspired the men.”
Kirbon smiled, light shining in his blue eyes. “I could not have done it without you.”
“Commander!” A voice called out. “We have a prisoner!”
Kirbon and Bruting walked together to the crowd of men surrounding the enemy soldier. It was clear that the men wanted to see him put to death for the crimes he was a part of, but Bruting knew that his friend and lover was too good of a man to allow an unarmed man to be slain. He looked down at the man who was on his knees, his arms bound behind him. His gaze was met with one of contempt from the captured soldier, and yet his compassion for his fellow man still shined through.
“Release him.” Kirbon said. “We are soldiers, not killers.”
One of the men pulled his dagger out to cut the ropes. The enemy stood, rubbing his wrists, but still glaring at the men surrounding him with hate in his eyes.
“This is not over.” He said. “Our armies will return tenfold, and your pitiful country will fall.”
“It does not matter if your army returns tenfold or even a hundredfold.” Bruting countered. “Our men will defeat them, just as we did today.”
It all happened so quickly, but oddly enough, time seemed to slow down. The enemy seized the dagger from the soldier who had cut his bonds and lunged toward Bruting. Kirbon jumped in front of him, and the sickening sound of the dagger piercing his armor and flesh echoed in Bruting’s ears. The other soldiers grabbed and quickly subdued him as Bruting caught Kirbon in his arms.
“No, no…” Bruting looked down at Kirbon, horrified to see blood seeping out from his lips. “You cannot leave me.”
Kirbon managed a weak smile even as the light was fading from his eyes. He lifted his hand weakly in the air as Bruting clasped it in his own.
“I will… always… be with you.” Kirbon’s eyes slowly closed, and Bruting knew he was gone.
Tears began to cloud his vision. He looked below the cliff they were on, and saw and his country’s flags that flew in the breeze. His eyes fell upon the man who murdered Kirbon, and the tears were replaced with red hot anger.
“Push him off the edge.” Bruting said. The men followed the order from their new commander, and Bruting watched in grim satisfaction as the man’s body fell, only to be impaled by the flag’s staff. It would not be a quick death, and as far as Bruting was concerned, he did not deserve one.
~~~~~
Steven shot up in the bed, gasping for air. He had a nightmare, one full of death, anger and pain. He was not sure where it had come from, but he was shaken by the emotions it had brought upon him. Knowing that he was not going to be able to fall asleep again, at least not for another hour, he got out of bed, wrapping his robe around his body.
He sighed as he made his way to the courtyard of Carfax Abby. The nightmares had been plaguing him each night for a month now, and he could not understand why. He sat on the bench, watching his breath create small puffs of mist in the cool night air. London was quiet in the dead of night, and the stars twinkled above in the clear sky. He had been staying with Buchanan ever since their arrival nearly three weeks ago. The Count had eagerly taken in all the sites that London had to offer, asking Steven questions about his favorite places and if he had friends or family in the city. Steven explained that his mother died, and while he had a few close acquaintances, there were none that he considered friends. It was odd, but he was beginning to feel a friendship blossom between he and the Count. Why else had he not yet been dismissed? The Count hardly needed a guide throughout London at this point, in fact, Steven did not think Buchanan needed one to begin with. Despite being new to the city, the confidence he displayed made him seem as if he belonged with London’s elite.
“You will catch cold if you stay out here.”
Steven startled slightly as he turned to face Buchanan, his blue eyes filled with concern as he gazed upon Steven.
“You had another nightmare?”
Steven was surprised that the Count knew he had a nightmare, as he never spoke of them.
“You seem worn and tired in the mornings as of late.” He explained, as if he was reading Steven’s mind.
“They have been recurring.” Steven admitted. “I am not even sure what they are about… the emotions begin as happy ones, but then turn to pain and anger… vengeance.”
For a moment, the Count stood silently.
“They are memories…” He said finally, looking directly at Steven.
“Memories…?” Steven repeated with a frown.
“I have had the same nightmares every night. Ever since you came to my castle. That is when they started happening for you, is it not?”
Steven stood, his mind racing.
“An army retreating after having invaded a small but proud country. A brave commander riding through the waves of his troops after having inspired them and led them to victory, only to die protecting the one he loved from a cowardly attack.”
Steven stared, his mouth hanging open in shock.
“How do you know this?”
“I have crossed oceans of time to find you.” Count Buchanan said as he walked closer. “I turned my back on God for having taken you
from me. But here you are, in front of me.”
A small part of Steven knew that he should consider Buchanan by all accounts, mad. Yet as he stood in front of him, looking into his eyes, his heart told him that what he was saying was true.
“How is this possible…?” Steven asked.
“I have preyed upon the blood of the wicked for centuries… going after men like the one who murdered you all those years ago. Cowards who would use their strength to wrong women and harm the innocent.”
“The stories I heard were true… men disappearing, found with their blood drained…”
“All of them evil.” Buchanan said. “I assure you, I have never harmed an innocent being. Let me show you…”
Steven swallowed as Buchanan’s fangs grew and sliced into his own wrist before offering it to him.
“Drink.” The Count said softly. “You will see that I am telling the truth.”
The voice that was telling him to run, that the Count was insane was growing quieter. Steven slowly reached out to take his wrist into his hands and brought it to his lips, hesitating for a brief moment before he began to drink.
The blood was like nothing he had ever tasted before in his life. It was sweet and as intoxicating as wine, but filled him with warmth and love. Everything the Count had told him was indeed true. Steven gasped as memories of his past life came at him in full force and wavered on his legs, releasing the Count’s wrist to catch himself on the stone bench. The man he had once known as Bruting quickly closed the distance between them, wrapping one arm behind his back to help steady him.
Steven looked at him, his eyes becoming glassy with his tears. In addition to the memories, the pain that his lover had carried was gripping at his heart.
“My love…” Steven said, unable to think of anything else.
“I have missed you so…”
Steven closed his eyes as Buchanan’s free hand gently cupped his cheek as he leaned in. Their lips met, and the pain began to slip away as the love the two shared raged like a fire between them. Steven could not be counted on to say how long the kiss lasted, but the need for air forced him to break the kiss.
“I can make it so that we will never be parted again. We will walk this earth together, for all eternity.”
Steven knew there were questions that he should ask. But as he looked into Buchanan’s eyes again, he decided the questions could wait. After all, they were to have eternity together.
“I will stay with you.”
Buchanan leaned closer into Steven again, this time moving his lips toward Steven’s neck. Instinctively, Steven tilted his head back, gasping at the brief flash of pain as fangs pierced his flesh. He gripped Buchanan tightly at first, his strength beginning to fade as the brunette took more and more of his blood. Steven recalled his death centuries ago, and as it was now, there was little physical pain. While there had been emotional pain before however, now there was no pain at all. Buchanan stopped drinking and offered his still bleeding wrist to Steven once more. As he drank, Steven knew in his heart that he and his love would be together forever.
~~~~~
A hand reached out for a plum, squeezing it slightly to check its ripeness. Bucky put the plum in the grocery bag with the others he’d selected before handing it to the cart owner. The man thanked him for his business as Bucky handed him the cash for payment, insisting that he keep the change. Beside him, Steve smiled as he took Bucky’s free hand into his own. The world continued to change around them, cars drove by in the streets, and buildings continued to grow higher and higher. People could communicate with each other easily with cellular phones and tablets, despite being thousands of miles apart, if not half a world away.
The world around them could continue to change, mankind could very well live in space someday. It hardly mattered to them. For Steve and Bucky, their world belonged to each other.