Chapter Text
The Rider
“Any minute now,” Stone kept muttering to himself, peering out from where he was crouched behind a tree.
Tony nodded, paying more attention to the flask in his hand. The stubborn cork had been stuck since Thor borrowed it last week — he still seemed to misjudge his strength sometimes. Tony knew he needed to be clear-headed for Stone's plan for today, he wasn't actually going to drink at the moment, but a sip would have been a small comfort.
A large hand nearly knocked him over, the whole palm cupping one shoulder. Looking up, Tony saw the bright bearded grin and golden mane and had to smile a little, just in response to the exuberant joy shining at him.
“Are you well, Stark?” Thor boomed, voice a deep rumble, beautifully ignoring Stone still hissing at them to be quiet.
Art by Hazein
“I’m okay, buddy,” Tony slipped the flask back in his pocket. “Just a touch of nerves.”
“Tis a simple job,” Thor said. “Don't worry over—”
“Shut up! Both of you!” Stone snapped. “Here he comes!”
A distant sound of hooves grew louder, and soon enough a rider appeared around the bend in the path. Tony straightened up, tapping at his belt and feeling for the familiar hilt of the sword at his hip.
Stone stood up and turned to the pair of them, the look in his beady eyes making them flinch. “Do not mess this up,” he hissed. “Or you won’t like the consequences.”
The dark glare was suddenly wiped off his face as Stone turned away with a fake smile, smoothing back his pale hair and stepping out from behind the tree to face the approaching rider. Tony patted Thor on the chest as they followed Stone, “We’re up, big guy.”
“A word, good sir?” Stone called out to the rider.
The rider pulled to a stop in front of them with a neat flick of his heels, and Tony got his first good look at the man. Handsomely dressed in black velvet and leathers, with a curtain of dark hair that had come half-loose of its tie, all Tony could see of the face was a straight nose and full lips over a dimpled chin. Riding goggles still hid the man’s eyes, and Tony could spot at least seven hidden weapons about his person.
“We are but poor, lost travellers,” Stone said. “Is there a village nearby?”
The rider slid his goggles up, and Tony felt frozen under icy bright grey eyes, which rolled over the three of them with suspicion. Tony knew that they might have looked scruffy enough to pass for poor, but they were also too well-armed to be simple travellers. The hammer tied to Thor’s belt was no small carpentry tool, and though Tony’s goatee was the most diligently maintained thing about him, the sword at his hip wasn't just for show. Stone probably looked the least threatening, and only because all of his favourite weapons weren't physical.
“There is nothing nearby,” the rider said, voice surprisingly soft for such a dark appearance. “Not for miles.”
“Good!” Stone grinned, clapping his hands. “Then there will be no one to hear you scream.”
Thor stepped forward, one hand quickly wrapping around the man’s neck to pinch at a nerve. Those grey eyes rolled up into his head as the rider slumped sideways into Thor’s arms, unconscious before he could shout or scream.
“Hurry up!” Stone said, watching Thor gently lift the rider off his mount. Stone then shoved the horse’s reins into Tony’s hands. “Go — get the boat ready!”
Tony did as Stone asked, stepping up onto the horse’s saddle. There wasn’t really a chance that he’d run away. Not being so much in debt to Stone as he was, and the slippery man knew it. Besides, Thor was the only real friend of Tony’s in years, it wouldn't have felt right to leave him alone with Stone. The only place Tony was going was to ready the boats, as he’d been ordered.
Still, he couldn’t help feeling like that take-down had gone too easily. And had there been a touch of relief in those grey eyes when they had closed?
The boat was about ready to sail by the time Thor and Stone caught up on foot, the rider still unconscious in Thor’s arms. Tony decided on a final check, hopping deftly back on land to scan the hull of the boat as Thor walked up the ramp. The rider still didn't stir as Thor set him down, binding his wrists and ankles with rope.
Stone had headed straight for the horse, fiddling with something on the saddle.
“What is it you’re doing?” Tony asked, coming closer to see Stone secure a strip of fabric into the saddle.
“It’s a seal,” Stone said. “From the uniform of an Army officer of Guilder.”
Thor’s head popped up, “Who’s Guilder?”
Stone shot a dark look at them, pointing across the water, “It’s the neighbouring country of these lands. The sworn enemy of Florin!” He slapped the horse’s rump and watched it run off with a satisfied grin. “Once the horse reaches the castle, the seal will make the Princess suspect the Guilderians have kidnapped her love. And when they find his dead body on the Guilder border, their suspicions will be confirmed.”
Thor frowned, looking down at the unconscious man at his feet. “You never said anything about killing anyone.”
“We’ve been hired to start a war,” Stone crowed cheerily, hopping aboard. “That’s a prestigious line of work in a glorious, grand old tradition. We’re war-mongers now, boys!”
“I don’t think it’s right, killing him,” Thor mumbled. “I heard their betrothal was arranged. Perhaps the Princess will not care—”
Stone turned to Thor so suddenly it startled him, an ugly sneer on his face. “Am I going mad, or did I hear you say you could ‘think’? You weren't hired for your brains, you hippopotomatic land mass - remember that!”
Thor’s face crumpled, and Tony couldn't really help himself, hurrying to stand by the big guy. “I agree with Thor.” It only really drew the anger to him.
“Oh? And now the sot has spoken!” Stone spat. He stalked towards them, backing them both up against the quarter deck. “What happens to him isn't your concern. And never forget this—” Tony kept his face blank under those beady eyes. “When I found you, you were barely worth more alive than dead, over a dozen terrible people after your head. And you—” Thor turned his face away from the fury on him now. “Friendless, brainless, helpless, hopeless. How would you like me to send you back to where I found you, abandoned in Greenland?”
Thor trembled, and Tony reached a hand back for him to hold. He’d already been part of Stone’s company when Tony had joined them, but for all of his massive size and enormous presence, it had become swiftly apparent that in those early ‘helpless, hopeless’ days something had happened that even now kept Thor afraid, preferring to weather Stone’s fury than face whatever awaited him back in Greenland.
“I - own - you.”
With those words, Stone left to stand at the bow of the boat, looking importantly out across the water. Tony glared at his back, before pulling Thor along to help him cast off the boat. They left the shore, trundling along the gentle currents of the water.
The frightened crease on Thor’s brow hadn't left though. Tony couldn't stand that on a face that was so made for smiling and nudged him in the side. “That Mister Stone, he sure can fuss…”
At least the crease of his brow was now from him thinking. “Fuss… Hmm… Yes, he likes to scream at us.”
“Sharp bite, loud bark. ” It was a silly game they’d done for some years now. Despite Stone thinking him brainless, Thor actually just knew so many languages he sometimes muddled them up. Tony thought the game helped him a bit, making him focus for a little on one word at a time (and with someone who wasn't going to yell if he slipped into Scandinavian or French).
“You speak true, Friend Stark.”
“Oh,” Tony still faltered a moment whenever Thor called him a friend. “You’ve a great gift for rhyme.”
And at last, a small but proud smile. “Some of the time.”
“Enough of that!” Stone screeched from the front of the boat.
They ducked their heads, but only to hide their grins.
“He looks like his head could burst,” Tony continued, because there were days when all the power he had was to push Stone like that, and there was some small satisfaction in watching from a distance as Stone’s face reddened with rage, blood vessels visibly throbbing at his temples. It was a little treat.
“Only after his vein pops first.”
They muffled their giggles as the listened to Stone’s angry screeching.
They were still sailing when it was dark, nothing but open waters and a nighttime mist around them. Tony was up at the helm, an easy hand on the tiller. His attention kept drifting between the waters around them, and Thor below on the main deck. The big man was going through the small mountain of weapons in front of him, all of which he’d plucked from the rider’s unconscious body. Thor had been forced to search him three times to be certain of getting everything. Knives, darts, compact explosives — for such a heavily armed man, he was taken down easily. Too easily, Tony was certain. But what good could he possibly get from being kidnapped by them?
Stone was sat against one side of the boat, facing the rider, calmly breaking off chunks from a loaf of bread and eating. He hadn't offered food to anyone else, and no one was stupid enough to ask him for any. They'd made that mistake enough to have learnt better long ago.
Tony quietly thought the rider had woken hours ago, though his eyes were still shut. His body was too still on the boat. Probably trying to gather information on his kidnappers, which Tony could admire. Unfortunately, all he would learn is that two were good at rhyming games, and the third detested fun. Not much had been spoken since Stone put a final stop to their game as the sun was setting.
Thor held up another knife for Tony to see. It was wicked sharp and in a strange curve — it looked more like a scythe. Tony nodded absently and watched him put it in one pile with the other sharp things, before glancing behind the boat again.
“We’ll reach the cliffs by dawn if we keep on this course,” Stone said. Tony hummed agreeably, eyes more focused on something behind them. A piece of bread crust hit the back of his head. “Why are you doing that?”
“Making sure no one is following us,” Tony said with a shrug.
Stone scoffed. “That would be inconceivable.”
“Despite what you might think, you will be caught,” that soft voice from earlier said, and they all turned to the rider. Those piercing grey eyes were open again, like two moons shining out in the darkness. “And the King will see you all hanged.”
“Of all the necks onboard, Highness, you should only be worrying about your own- will you stop doing that?! ” Another piece of crust hit Tony in the shoulder. “It’s almost over and you’re only stressing me out.”
“You’re certain no one’s following us?” Tony tossing the fallen bread crusts down to Thor to eat.
“As I said, it would be inconceivable,” Stone said. “No one in Guilder knows what we’ve done. And none in Florin could catch up so fast. Why are you asking?”
“Oh, no reason,” Tony drawled. “It’s only, I was looking behind, and there’s something there.”
Stone leapt up the short ladder and nearly bowled Tony over getting to the back of the boat, squinting out into the darkness and the waters. They all looked. And just visible in the gaps of swirling mist, there was another sailboat. Smaller than theirs, with black sails, and still too far off to make out whoever was sailing the boat.
“It’s- it’s probably just some fisherman,” Stone insisted. “Out on a nighttime cruise— in eel-infested waters—”
SPLASH! They turned again to find their rider missing, only the ropes that had bound him left behind.
Stone screeched, hands gripping his hair, “Go in! Get after him!”
Tony shook his head, paling at even thought of diving into the dark waters. “I don't swim,” he insisted, and Thor shrugged when Stone turned to him after. “I only doggy paddle,” he said, miming for emphasis.
“Follow him then!” Stone screamed, dragging Thor after him to look for their escapee. “Veer left! Left, you cretin!”
Tony quickly steered the boat left.
A high-pitched shriek howled through the air carried under the breeze, and it sent shivers of fear spiking into all of their hearts.
“Do you hear that, Highness?” Stone called out overboard. “That is the sound of the Shrieking Eels, monstrous flesh-eating creatures born from those that die in storms at sea, their last screams echoing for all eternity. They grow louder when they're about to feed.” Another shriek pierced the night. Closer now too. “Swim back to us. It’s a kinder fate onboard than what you’ll face with the Eels.”
Tony couldn't see what the rider was doing from his place at the stern, he could only see the backs of Stone and Thor, leaning over the side as they were. He couldn't even hear the water lapping at the hull anymore, not over the shrieks that were only growing louder.
Soon though, Thor raised his arm, hammer in hand, and swung it down. It hit something in the water with a heavy thunk, and with his other hand, Thor hauled the rider back onto the boat. The rider landed on the deck with a wet splat, his long hair sticking to his face and a puddle already forming where he sat.
Stone grabbed the ropes and bound him again, much tighter than Thor had done. “I suppose you think you're brave, don't you?”
“Only compared to some,” the rider answered him gravely.
Stone scoffed, before glaring up at Thor. “Keep an eye on him, if you're capable of even that, you great buffoon. And wake me at dawn.” With that he left them for his spot at the bow, gathering all of their blankets into a comfortable pile for his own bedding. He promptly curled up with his back to them and started snoring in that irritating way of his. At least, that was Tony’s opinion on the sound, a sputtering snort with a high nasal whine to finish.
Tony looked at the miserable sight the rider made, shivering in his soaked clothes. “Thor, buddy, you still have that old coat of yours?”
Thor perked up, going to dig into his small bag of belongings and pulling out the worn red thing.
It no longer had sleeves, after an accident last year, and it was so old that nearly all the red colouring had worn away into a rusty brown, but Tony knew personally how soft the coat still was when tucked all around you. It was nothing like the quality of stuff the rider was wearing now, but it was dry and warm. Holding the coat out to the man, Thor approached slowly, but the rider offered no resistance as he was tucked in.
“Rest, if you can,” Thor told him. “No harm shall come to you tonight.”
“And I'm supposed to trust the words of my kidnappers, am I?”
“I doubt you’ll hear the word of any others for a while,” Thor shrugged. “Are you thirsty? We have some water. Or would you prefer something stronger?”
“That’s not for sharing!” Tony said, patting on the flask in his pocket.
“Perhaps it’s for the best,” Thor nodded sagely. “It is not fit for mortals to drink overmuch. It burns from lips to belly, then purges the body of all except the pain after. The only apparent cure is to further imbibe or endure suffering loudly a further two days.”
Tony received a truly insulting look of disbelief for that.
“And he still drinks it?”
“Alas, I have done what I can to stop him—”
“I knew you stuck the cork on purpose!” Tony cried, and Thor grinned.
The rider was also smirking at them now. He was still wound up tight, tense as anything, but he was laughing at them too, in that little curl of his lip there. Tony pulled his eyes up away from those lips with a shake of his head, looking out to safer places out on the water as he steered the boat. The man was engaged to a Princess, and their prisoner, nothing good would come from looking.
“Is your name really Thor?” Tony heard the rider ask eventually.
“Aye, an unusual name outside my home, I've come to learn.”
“Weird.”
“So I've been told.”
“No,” Tony piped up. “I said you were weird, not your name specifically.”
“Are you certain you want nothing to drink, your Highness?” Thor asked again.
“Don’t call me that.”
It was a much different tone of voice from the rider. For all that he’d generally been kidnapped and tied up by them, he hadn't sounded so cold until now. Tony pulled his gaze back onboard to see the rider looking blankly at the planks beneath his feet.
Thor just took it in stride in that way of his. “What might I call you then?”
“You don't even know who you kidnapped?”
He only got a sheepish shrug from Thor for that. “We answer Stone’s bidding, and he seldom shares many details,” Thor said. “He thinks me too dumb, and Stark too clever, so chooses to keep us both in the dark. Holding information is his particular speciality.”
The rider frowned at them both now, and Tony couldn't help but bristle at the look. He knew that look. He didn't like that look, didn't need anyone to look at him with that sort of pity. He could take care of himself just fine. “You’re his slaves.”
“I prefer the term indentured employees,” Tony sniped. “And we aren’t that anyway - we’re just… doing work for Stone. For now. It’s not great, but it’s what we’ve got.”
“That ain’t living,” the rider said.
“And what would you know about not living?”
The rider had that blank stare going again. “I had a love once, a True Love, and I lost them. You think I don't know the difference between surviving and really living since?”
Tony scoffed, “True Love,” and looked away from the pair, “Children’s fairy tales!” He was going to keep his eyes on the water ahead from now on, and not listen to ridiculous ideas, or be looked at by those sharp grey eyes. The boat was too small to ignore their voices, but he didn't have to be a part of their talk.
“Do not take his words to heart,” Thor whispered, in his typical non-whisper. “Stark’s word don't often reflect the truly romantic nature of his heart.” The rider grunted sceptically. “I have heard… if you are the Princess’ Bridegroom, are you the same man they once called the Winter Sol—”
“I don't do that anymore. I'm not him now.”
“Apologies.”
“Just… call me Bucky, I guess.”
“Bucky, then. Well met.”
“This could be worse, I suppose,” Bucky drawled. “Pretty civilised, as far as kidnappings go.”
“And you have really experienced True Love?” Thor said. “What is it like?”
“Like nothing else.”
“Was it instant?”
“Not for me,” Bucky admitted. “I only knew him as trouble. He was always getting into trouble, and making my life hell saving his ass, but… he was my best friend, I couldn't imagine life without him. Our feelings grew later, but our time was short, and then soon it was all too late.”
Thor let out a deep sigh, and Tony had to force himself not to look down. It was bad enough eavesdropping on a conversation he didn't want to hear, he wasn't interested in seeing that sappy look on Thor’s face again. Or whatever expression was on Bucky’s face right either. He wasn't interested in these silly stories anymore. Children’s fairy tales.
“I grieve for your loss, but cannot help feeling envious too,” Thor said softly. “I have long dreamed of a love of my own. One who would be home to me, when I have none.”
“There’s still time.” Kind words, from a man to his kidnappers.
“Perhaps, but what do I have to offer? I am bound indefinitely in Stone’s service. It is no life to present to someone beloved.”
“I’ll give you one piece of advice, Thor,” Bucky said, voice dipping with the sway of the boat. “If you do ever find True Love, don't let anything like Stone stand in the way. You hold onto ‘em with both hands and all of your heart.”
“I will. Thank you, Bucky,” Thor said, sounding happier. More hopeful. Tony kept his face turned ahead, he didn't want to dampen that good mood with whatever dark expression he had on. It was always terrible to make Thor sad. “We should rest now, it will be a long day tomorrow. Stark will keep a vigilant eye over us. He always has.”
There was the sound of shuffling below him, boots kicked off onto the wooden deck, and eventually, the almost comforting sound of Thor’s rumbling snores spilled across the boat. Tony didn't check to see if Bucky was sleeping. If he was, he made no sound. As the boat drifted on in the night, Tony watched over the waters, with the duet of snores his only company.
… And that black sailboat still trailing behind them.
“D’you lose your True Love, too, or something?”
The question came out of nowhere a while later, and Tony peered down to see that Bucky was indeed not sleeping. He was doing that stare again, the intense one that had Tony’s hair standing on end. Tony groaned, dropping his head back to squint up at the sky. “Oh, I can already tell this is gonna mean a headache.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Why aren’t you scurrying off to freedom?” Tony shot back. “We’re out of eel-infested waters now. Stone’s asleep. If you keep to the waters around the south, you could swim back to Florin by tomorrow.”
“You’re real strange kidnappers, encouraging me to escape,” Bucky mumbled.
“Yeah? Well, buddy, I gotta tell you that you’re a pretty strange captive too, not taking this golden opportunity to escape,” Tony said.
“Still haven’t answered my question.”
“And you haven’t answered mine, but you don't see me needling you about it.”
With that, Tony focused once again on the open silent waters. Not that he really expected to be left alone. He didn't really expect to glance over to his right and suddenly see Bucky settling next to him though, nonchalantly coiling the ropes that had bound him and setting them on the deck by his knee. Tony groaned again and thumped his forehead with a fist.
“If you’re really not gonna take off, you know I'm just gonna have to tie you up again.”
Bucky just shrugged, looking out over the water. Fine, Tony would just keep steering the boat as he had been doing, and before dawn, he’d tie Bucky up again and nudge him back down to the main deck. Stone would be none the wiser. “I'm not escaping because I got no reason to go back,” Bucky said blankly.
“Really? Don’t you have a Princess who you’re supposed to be marrying?”
“Sure,” Bucky nodded. “But we’re not in love. It’s an arrangement for the good of the country.”
“And yet, you’re fine abandoning betrothed and country, and going along with this kidnapping.”
A dark look passed over Bucky’s face, not that his expression changed much, but something in the dip of his eyes and the sharpness of his jaw gave it away. “I’ve given enough to my country.”
“Hmm.” There was obviously a story behind that, and Tony would bet his meagre gold it involved that fabled ‘True Love’ of too. But he wasn't going to ask, because knowing inevitably led to getting involved, and Tony had enough on his plate without getting involved in anyone else’s troubles, and yep, headache. He patted down his pockets and pulled out his flask, biting at the stopper as he tried again to get it open, damn you, Thor!
“So…” Bucky nudged him with an elbow. “You gonna answer me now?”
“Oh, is that what we’re doing?” Tony grunted around the stopper. “I don't remember agreeing to any quid quo pro here. Just because you decided to answer my question, doesn’t mean I have to answer yours—”
“Will you answer the damn question if I open that for you?”
Tony paused, still gnawing at the cork as he turned to Bucky. He narrowed his eyes at the twitch he spotted in the corner of those pouty lips, “If you can get this open for me, then fine, I’ll answer your ridiculous question.”
Bucky didn't bother waiting and just plucked the flask straight from his mouth, fingers brushing his bottom lip, leaving Tony frozen for a moment from the gentle touch. He shook his head and watched Bucky’s eyes narrow as he considered the stopper, turning the flask over in his hands, before pinching the cork and twisting it free with a hollow pop.
“Are you kidding me?” Tony hissed, reaching for the flask. “I’ve been trying to do that for a fucking week!”
“Ah ah ah,” Bucky held the flask up out of reach in his right hand, a bright flash of a grin pulling at his lips. “Answer first, then you get your drink.” Tony tried to lunge for the flask anyway but got stopped by a solid hand flat against his chest.
And it was truly solid.
Pushing back - because that’s what he always did - Tony felt no give in the hand at all. Not even a small flex of the wrist or fingers. He stared down at the hand, curious now, and reached up to investigate more, maybe pull off the black leather gloves to have a proper look, when Bucky abruptly pulled away.
Tony almost face-planted the deck at the sudden loss of support. “What—?”
“Answer. First.” Bucky said again, though the playful note had gone from his voice now.
He shook the flask for emphasis, and Tony sighed, sitting back again. “I didn't lose a ‘True Love’, no, because I never had one. Because they don't exist. I stopped believing in that sort of make belief a long time ago.”
“Have you never loved someone?”
“The last time I loved it got me stuck here!” Tony suddenly snapped, glaring all around the boat, and maybe especially at Stone’s snoring shadow at the front. “Sufficed to say, I've learnt my lesson. Love has nothing for me. Nothing but trouble, and pain, and running, and- and I've answered your question, now give me back my drink.”
There was silence for a long while before Bucky huffed and handed over the flask. “I guess we’re all prisoners in our own way.”
“Your Majesty!” A runner burst into the full courtroom, waving a scrap of fabric in one hand. “The Princess’ Bridegroom — he’s been kidnapped!”
Murmurs rippled through the room, but the King had eyes only on the runner, beckoning him forward. He reached for the fabric, but a slender hand intercepted him.
“The seal of the Army of Guilder,” the Princess said, raising one blood-red eyebrow at the runner, dazzling green eyes stunning the poor man where he stood.
“It—” he gulped around a suddenly dry throat. “It was found on his horse, your Highness. The Soldier never returned from his daily ride.”
The Princess nodded, turning to the King. “I will go after him.”
“Natasha…” the King said, a warning in his voice.
She lifted her chin, “I'm capable of rescuing him.”
“I know, but you are the Crown Princess, and this is dangerous,” the King pointed out. “At least don’t go after him alone.”
“Fine,” Natasha conceded. “I will take my guard.”
“And the Count and his men,” the King insisted. “A mistake could lead to war. He is wise and experienced. The Count will help you.”
Natasha’s lips pinched, but she bit back any complaints, dipping her head instead. “As my King commands.” With that, she turned from the throne and strode through the courtroom, her faithful guard seamlessly and silently joining her from the shadows. Natasha paused just before leaving the room though, staring down a man who was stood smoking heavily in the doorway.
He bowed deeply to her, one arm sweeping out, “I will ready some men at once, your Highness.”
She dipped her head once more and said “Count Stane,” before continuing at a quick pace from the room.
The Swordsman
“He’s right on top of us!” Tony said, eyes fixed on the black sailboat behind theirs. It was close enough now for him to see who sailed the boat, a dark figure in a mask. “I wonder if he’s using the same wind as us?”
“Forget them, they’re too late now,” Stone crowed. “See here — the Cliffs of Insanity!”
Bucky looked up in the early morning sunlight at the cliffside, cutting straight up out of the sea, impossibly high. He could see no way up the sheer rock-face. “Well, they named the place about right.”
The boat sailed straight to the cliffs. “Hurry!” Stone snapped, as Thor stood on an outcrop of rock and pulled the boat in and Tony scrambled about gathering gear. They’d be forced to leave all their things at the pace Stone was pushing them. He sneered at Bucky, a triumphant gleam in his eyes. “Only Thor is strong enough to go up this way. Anyone else will have to sail around to a harbour, and it’ll be hours too late for you.”
Bucky watched Thor reach into a crevice on the rock-face, and tug out a thick rope hiding from view, shaking it out. It reached all the way to the top. Bucky was still staring up the cliff as Tony moved to Thor and started to help him into a harness. He patted the bigger man on the shoulder once all the straps were in place, “Hope you’re feeling well-rested this morning.”
“An excellent challenge to start the day!” Thor declared, as Stone collected his bag and strapped himself to the front of the harness.
Tony reached for Bucky, tugging him to Thor’s right side and looping his bound arms over one muscled shoulder. He started to buckle several belts around Bucky’s waist and thighs when he noticed the man was shaking. “Are you still cold? I thought you’d dried off by now.”
“That’s an awful long way up,” Bucky mumbled, eyes wide as they followed the rope.
“Yes,” Tony agreed.
“Long way to fall then, too,” he continued. There was some fear for the first time in those grey eyes as he looked at Tony. “I’ve fallen from a great height like that before.”
“You seem to have survived that,” Tony pointed out, though it only made Bucky flinch and roll his shoulders up to his ears.
That wasn't what Tony was trying to do, but he’d had little practice for years of being a comfort to someone. He used to be good at comforting, Tony thought, used to be warmer and softer too. It was hard to hold on to those things in this life.
“Don’t worry,” Tony tried again, tugging at a strap around Bucky’s leg. “I made this myself and I'm a genius, you couldn't be safer. It’s designed to carry even someone of Thor’s size, you won’t fall today.”
Bucky still shook.
“Here,” Tony cupped one of his hands. “Just keep your eyes closed. We’ll reach the top before you know it.”
Bucky nodded stiffly, and Tony lingered a moment longer, before stepping away and going to strap himself in too on Thor’s other side.
“Shut up,” he hissed at Thor’s proud expression. The big lug always seemed to take great pleasure at any glimpses of what Tony deemed his soft side, a side he tried very hard to keep locked away - had to just to be able to live the life they had.
When they were all strapped onto Thor, he started pulling them all up the rope. Bucky hid his face away against one shoulder, and Tony reached around Thor’s back to hold his hand again. Bucky’s grip was bone-tight, but Tony did nothing to stop him, just gave a gentle squeeze back.
The rope hardly swayed with the weight of them holding it down, and Thor was pulling them up the cliff-face at a steady pace, a feat impossible for any normal man. Despite this, when he glanced down with his habit of keeping an eye over his shoulder, Tony was amazed to see the black sailboat docked behind their boat, and the masked man climbing the rope after them.
“He’s climbing the rope,” Tony told the others.
“Inconceivable!” Stone shrieked, kicking out. “Quicker, Thor!”
Thor grunted, but sped up, heaving them up the rope at such a pace he started to sweat. Blonde strands stuck to his cheeks and temples, and he was squinting in concentration.
And yet.
“I think he’s gaining on us,” Tony said nonplussed.
“Faster!” Stone screeched, smacking at Thor’s chest.
“I thought… I was… going faster,” Thor rasped.
“You’re supposed to be this colossus, this great legendary thing!” Stone spat. “And yet - he gains on us!”
“Well, I'm carrying three people,” Thor pointed out. “He carries only himself.”
“Unacceptable. If you fail at this, you’re less than useless to me, and I do not keep useless things.” Thor grimaced at that, and Tony had to hold back a glare. “Was I clear enough that it was more than your job at stake?”
“Yes,” Thor huffed, but he couldn't pull them up any faster. The masked man was still catching up.
They did manage to reach the top first, and Tony unclipped himself and scrambled over Thor to stand on the edge. Stone held a hand out, but Tony reached for Bucky instead. He was shaking worse now than he had at the foot of the cliff, sweating harder than Thor from his fear, and his face was still firmly hidden with eyes clenched shut. But he clung back as Tony lifted him out of the harness, his knees nearly giving out when he reached solid ground.
Tony gently helped Bucky sit back against a stone ruin wall far away from the edge, patting him roughly on the back, “Didn't I tell you? We reached the top and no falling. You can open your eyes now. It’s alright. There, see?”
Bucky hesitantly blinked, those grey eyes zoning in on Tony’s face. He managed a weak nod though, and a small “Thanks.”
For a drawn-out moment, Tony couldn’t find it in himself to do anything but stare back into those eyes. It almost felt like they were swaying closer, like some invisible thing in Tony’s chest was dragging him forward, screaming an answer of YES to an unspoken question, something twisting around him with a flavour of inevitability.
And Tony thought Bucky was, maybe, just the slightest bit, leaning towards him too.
His eyes dropped to those lips he’d stared at before, bright red and plump now from Bucky biting on them with nerves, that stubble along his jaw that darkened into that tempting dip on his chin. His lips were parted just a little, and Tony could feel the barest puff of warm air on his cheek from each exhale as Bucky just stared back at him, eyes slowly dipping from Tony’s own to his—
“STARK!” Stone roared suddenly, and Tony flailed away.
He grabbed Stone’s hand this time and hauled him up. The moment Stone got his feet under him, his hand snapped out to grab Tony by the throat, holding him right at the edge.
Tony choked in surprise, clawing at Stone’s hand as he stood on the tips of his boots to avoid falling over. Thor gaped up at the sight above him but could do nothing, clinging to the clifftop himself.
“You belong to me. You’re a thing - no! - less than that, because I seem to lose more from keeping you. But you answer to me, you pull me up first, you understand? Do you remember that? I should throw you back down for what you did,” Stone snarled at Tony’s face, spittle landing on his cheek. “This is your only warning. There will be no next time.”
Tony nodded as much as he could in Stone’s grip. He wasn't joking, Stone never did, and black spots were dancing at the edge of Tony’s sight. The nothingness at his back and under his heels was terrifying.
When Stone’s hand let go, Tony doubled over gasping for air. Stone left him hunched over at the edge, uncaring, more interested in following the rope to its anchor point among the stone ruins and pulling out a knife, that scythe-like dagger he’d apparently taken from Bucky’s arsenal. He wordlessly started sawing away into the rope.
Tony turned back to shakily help Thor up before the rope broke, trying to ignore the big blue eyes staring at his neck in concern. He nudged at Thor’s arms to allow Tony to take the harness off. “I’m fine, you big lump, don't stare,” Tony grunted, turning to dump the leathers aside. He was surprised to find Bucky watching him too, eyes quickly darting away from Tony to glare at Stone, with a look so sharp the grey shone silver in the morning light.
“Ha!” Stone had finally cut through. He watched as the rope slipped off the cliff and waited for the sound of a splash that never came.
Thor ambled to the edge to peer over the side, Tony joining him, keeping a cautious step back. “Hmm!” Thor was impressed. “He has very strong arms.”
Stone scrambled to stand beside them, and they all looked down at the masked man, a small smudge of black against the rock-face, as he clung to the cliff with his hands. “He should have fallen. It’s inconceivable!”
“I don’t think that word means what you think it means,” Tony croaked.
“He’s climbing!” Thor cried in delight.
“Whoever he is, he’s seen us with the Winter Soldier,” Stone hissed, tucking the curved dagger into his bag. “So he must die. Thor - carry his Highness. We’re going on to the Guilder border. Stark will catch up with us when he’s dealt with this pest.” Stone grabbed a fistful of Tony’s shirt. “He dies, by fall or by the sword. If you fail…”
Tony said nothing as he watched Stone turn away to grab his bag and march off. Thor was still at his side though, looking at him with worry. “That man is strong and very determined. Will you be alright?”
Slapping on a confident grin, Tony patted at the hilt of his sword, “Always.” Tony waved him away, “I can handle him. I've got too many things I still have to do, to let myself die here.”
“Be careful,” Thor warned. “Men in masks cannot be trusted.”
“I’ll be right behind you.”
Stone screeched from beyond the ruins. “I’M WAITING!”
Thor huffed but left Tony at the cliff edge. He easily lifted Bucky and slung him over one shoulder, before hurrying away after Stone. Tony watched them go, awkwardly waving a hand until Thor carried him out of view. He noticed Bucky’s eyes stayed fixed on him, with that intense gaze Tony was learning to expect.
Tony tried to convince himself everything would work out fine. Of course, it would. Drawing out his sword, Tony swung it around, loosening up his joints and warming up. The blade cut through the air in a gleaming arc, as Tony waited for the masked man to finish his climb.
“They’re on a boat,” Natasha said, standing on the shore and looking out across the shimmering water. Her hair was twisted away from her face, the red colour vivid and shining. It was a fine day to be out, and even better for giving her reason to be out of heavy decorative court dress. Her riding gear had always been more comfortable. The coat was as long as her dresses, but the splits up the skirt allowed her to move freely in her leather pants, and still offered plenty of places to hide her weapons.
The Count hummed as he stepped up to her side, folding his arms across his wide chest. “No doubt, no doubt. The only way to Guilder is across the Channel—”
“No, I mean that I know they're on a boat,” Natasha said again. “Locals have told my guard a boat set off from here. Someone matching the Soldier’s description was seen among them.”
“A group then,” the Count nodded. “They must have outnumbered him, overpowered him. Terrible. Simply terrible.”
“Hmm…”
“I will get a ship ready then,” the Count continued. “There must be something around here suitable for us to use.”
“We’re not stealing from a local.”
“Your Highness, this island and its people are yours. All that is here is yours, it isn't truly stealing,” the Count insisted. “It would simply take too long to ready the Royal ship. We’ll lose the trail.”
“If we cannot wait, then we’ll ask first, and compensate for what we must borrow.”
“Negotiating for such a trivial thing seems hardly—”
“It isn't a trivial thing to a fisherman,” Natasha pointed out. “It’s their whole means of providing food on their tables. They will receive fair compensation, Stane. Aren’t you here to be my negotiator?”
He grumbled and twisted at the glittering rings on his thick fingers, but he was arguing with the Princess. Natasha only had to wait. She knew that the Count would do as she asked.
It felt like it had already been forever since Thor and Stone had left with Bucky, and the masked man still hadn't reached the top of the cliff. Waiting wasn't always something Tony was good at, not unless it was something that he really wanted. He’d warmed up, he was ready for a fight — now he only needed his opponent. Fed up and honestly bored, Tony put his sword away and headed back to the edge.
“Hey, down there,” Tony called down to the masked man. “Slow going?”
He could just about hear a great sigh from the man below, “Not to be rude, but this is harder than it looks. I’d appreciate it if you didn't distract me.”
“Right. Sorry.”
“Thank you.”
Tony shuffled back and lay on his belly, crossing his arms and resting his chin on his wrists to keep watching the man climb for a few minutes. He didn't make much progress in the time, he seemed to be held up in the face of trying to climb over and around a fairly big outcrop in the cliff face. “Is there any way you could speed things up?”
“Look,” the masked man grumbled. “If you're in such a hurry, you could lower a rope, or branch, or something. Actually offer useful help.”
“There is some rope up here,” Tony said. “But would you be willing to accept it, knowing I'm only waiting up here to kill you?”
“Ah,” the masked man huffed. “Well, that certainly doesn’t help things.”
“I could promise not to kill you until you reach the top?” Tony offered.
“Very comforting, but I think you’re going to just have to wait.”
“I hate waiting,” Tony grumbled, digging his chin into his wrist. “Is there any way I could get you to trust me?”
“Nothing comes to mind,” the masked man said.
Tony blew out a great sigh of his own now, mind whirring for a possible solution. One thought did come to mind. “Do you have a mother?”
The masked man paused mid-reach for his next handhold. “I wouldn't be here if I didn’t.”
“And you love her?” Tony asked. He got a hesitant nod for that and made his decision. Holding a clenched fist over his chest, he leaned farther over the edge of the clifftop, so his words would carry clearly. “I swear to you on the soul of my mother, Maria, you will reach the top alive.”
There was a long pause as the masked man obviously debated this promise, and neither man moved, eyes locked across the cliff-face as the sun continued to rise. Tony held his gaze steady, and he didn't move from the edge, even though the high drop was beginning to make him dizzy to look down on. If he focused on that masked face, it was easier to hold vertigo at bay. Plus, the man had some truly distracting shoulders.
Tony saw the moment the masked man let those shoulders droop, and was scrambling back for the rope before he even heard another word.
“Throw me the rope.”
Uncoiling what was left of the rope from amongst the ruins, Tony hurried back and tossed it over the cliff edge. He only looked down long enough to check the rope reached the masked man, before stepping back into a squat to lower his centre of gravity, leaning back on his heels to dig into the dirt. When he saw and felt a new tautness in the rope, Tony took a deep and started hauling.
Whoever he was, the masked man was heavy, but Tony was strong. Not Thor-strong, but nothing to sniff at either. And he thought the masked man must’ve been half-climbing too, the two of them working together. When the masked man finally reached the cliff-top, they were both panting from exertion, and Tony could feel his shirt sticking to his back from sweat.
“Thank you,” the masked man rasped as he shuffled to his knees, hand already reaching for the sword at his hip, but Tony shook his head.
“We’ll wait until you’re ready,” he said. It wasn't like Tony would say no to a little break to catch his breath, either.
The masked man nodded, “Thank you.”
He sat down hard on his behind and started tugging off his boots, smacking the soles and grunting when he saw several large rocks to tumble out. Tony took him in, those shoulders even more distracting up close, unfairly wide compared to the narrow waist that was all tucked up neat in a deep red sash. A mask covered his head entirely, all the way down to the bridge of his long nose, and a beard hid the rest of his face. The man could probably stand nearly shoulder-to-shoulder with Thor. And he wasn't dressed in black, Tony realised, but a very dark blue like the midnight sky, and oddly he carried a large circular shield on his back. Don't see that a lot. His whole outfit spoke of, if not an expensive material, then good quality, the pieces all tailored to fit that large frame.
The socks, on the other hand, Tony could tell were old and worn thin. Tony could see the different shades of darning along the toes as the man stretched his feet, and he could just faintly make out some sort of star-shaped pattern on the ankles, like those for children, before the masked man slipped his boots back on. A small detail, but Tony found himself biting back a smile at the thought of the dangerous man with children’s socks on his feet. How odd.
“I don't mean to pry,” Tony said suddenly as the masked man shook out his arms, sleeves pulling tight around his biceps. “But do you happen to have ten rings as your coat of arms?”
The man’s eyes boggled, and Tony stared evenly back at the blue that mirrored the sky behind them. “Do you always start conversations like that with strangers?”
“Not frequently, and that wasn't really the start of our conversation either,” Tony pointed out.
The masked man cocked his head, “Why do you ask?”
“My father was killed by a man who wore those arms,” Tony said. “In my terror, I’ve never remembered his killer’s name. Only those rings.”
“You saw it happen,” the man realised. “How old were you?”
Tony shrugged. “Young. I've learned to pay better attention since. He was a genius, my father, a weapon maker of the highest calibre.”
The words came tumbling from his lips, and Tony couldn't understand why.
He was about to fight this masked stranger, possibly kill him, or be killed by him. And maybe it was that knowledge that had loosened his tongue. Despite cavalier words about too many things left tying him to life, Tony had started weighing his chances realistically from the moment he’d said ‘hello’ to the masked man, and the odds weren't great. His opponent was incredibly strong, confusingly polite, and compassionate enough to Tony’s love of his mother to trust him with the other end of a rope that his life had depended on. The only thing left to see was the masked man’s skill with the sword at his belt.
And either way, Tony won nothing. Winning the fight only meant returning to Stone’s clutches, and not winning meant death at best - at best because Tony had long ago learned that dying was easy, it was living that was truly difficult.
It felt like a last confession.
Not the worst confessional, Tony admitted to himself, looking back at the masked man. Despite his clear urgency in chasing after them and their captive before, he made no move now to strike Tony down and simply be on his way. He just steadily looked at Tony with those bright eyes in the eyeholes of his mask, sitting patiently, waiting like he knew Tony had more to say. So, Tony said more. He could always say more.
“I was in the ‘shop,” Tony looked down at the thick leather gloves on his hands and arms, hiding the old burns and scars from forge work. “Dad had gone back into the house for a drink and left me tinkering. Didn't hear anything off at first.” His mother’s final scream still featured frequently in Tony’s nightmares though. “Ran out to the house just to see a man with that coat of arms skewer Dad. I felt so- he just- I challenged him to fight.”
Both their eyes dropped to the sword at Tony’s hip, the golden hilt gleaming brightly against the plain leather scabbard.
“Without a sword, too,” Tony scoffed angrily at his stupid younger self, “He cut me down easy, of course, but I blew up the ‘shop and ran off in the chaos. I've dedicated my life since to the sword and finding that man since. Next time we meet, I won’t fail. I’ll go up to that man and say, ‘Hello, my name is Anthony Stark. You killed my family. Prepare to die’.”
“Dramatic,” the masked man said, but it sounded like it was said with approval. “So, you’ve done nothing but study swordplay?”
At that reminder, Tony had to wince. “Ah, well, I tried mostly, but I ran into some trouble along the way. It’s been more a long pursuit when I can manage it. Not helped by the fact that I don't remember his name. I cannot seem to find this man.”
“I do hope you find him, someday,” the masked man said, rising to his feet.
“You’re ready, then?” Tony asked, hand moving to his sword.
The man shrugged his wide shoulders, “You’ve been more than fair, waiting for me like this.”
“You seem decent,” Tony said. “I hate to kill you.”
“You seem a decent fella, too. And I hate to die.”
Both men drew their swords and stood to face each other, postures loose and open as they crossed their blades between them. Tony took a deep breath, about to begin the duel, when the man suddenly raised his other hand.
“Ah! Wait,” he reached back and pulled his round shield off his back, setting it neatly to lean against the ruins to one side. There was some sort of pattern engraved on the dark metal surface, but it was facing away from the sun, in shadow, and Tony couldn't quite make it out. All these damnable patterns. “It seems fairer this way.”
Tony gave him a friendly tap with his sword to his blade, pulling back to a ready position. “Ready?”
A smirk pulled at the masked man’s lips, the sight of it sending Tony’s heart pounding. “Ready.”
And the fight began.
Her guard had been first in spotting the boats moored to the bottom of the cliff, still a mere speck to everyone else’s eyes, and started directing the fisherman immediately. The fisherman had been happy enough to offer his boat when Natasha had made herself known and hadn't questioned the horses onboard, or the Crown Princess on a mission, or even being bossed around by a man who was precariously perched near the top of the mast — a man apparently impervious to the seasickness that was affecting most of Count Stane’s men. Though not the Count himself.
He only smiled benignly and waved to his ears, something glowing blue in the hollows. “Something I picked up a long time ago. I couldn't have handled all my travels without them, Your Highness. I only have the one set, but if you need—”
“I’m fine,” Natasha said, returning her eyes to her target ahead.
The Count did the same. “They’re either brave or foolish to attempt those cliffs, the Cliffs of Insanity, though I suppose they’ve managed it somehow. They must have been strong.”
He wasn't wrong. “There are two boats.”
“Your Highness?”
“But only one boat left the pier.”
The Count shuffled on his feet beside her, making the deck creak, “A larger party than we expected, perhaps? It seems they came prepared with reinforcements.”
“No,” Natasha shook her head, looking up the mast. “Different boats.”
The Count followed her gaze again, frowning as he spotted her guard wildly signalling Natasha with his hands, using only his legs to keep a hold to the mast, and so now sitting parallel to the deck below him. The Count looked at him as if he were insane. It wasn't the first time someone had looked at her guard that way. “Different, he says? Is he certain?”
They were different; one much older, the sail sun-bleached and patched, its wood scuffed and stained; the other boat was newer, with black sails that had been carefully tied, its wood dark but highly polished.
“Different,” Natasha repeated, translating the hand signs. “Different parties. We’re possibly not the only ones after my betrothed.”
The Count grumbled to himself, plucking at the glowing baubles in his ears. “This complicates things. We should hurry. If we head east around the cliffs—”
“We’re going over the cliffs.”
“Ov-over the cliffs?!” the Count spluttered, eyes darting between Natasha and the cliffs ahead.
“Sure. It’ll be fun.”
“Your Highness, surely you must know…"
“What I know is that we will lose far more time actively pursuing them navigating around the coast to the nearest harbour, and lose any track or trail they leave behind,” Natasha said, watching her guard slither down the mast and head over to the Count’s men to discuss something. Knowing her as well as he did, he probably already knew what Natasha intended to do next. “If we go around, you can only guess or assume where you believe the kidnappers are heading. And if you're wrong, we lose them entirely, and our country may go to war over something avoidable. No, Count Stane, we go over.”
She let the Count splutter on. “And how are we to go over, Your Highness?”
“We climb,” she said simply. “We have the ropes and strength for it.”
“Very well, we climb. But the horses, Your Highness?” the Count pressed. “Surely they cannot climb also, even if it is your will.”
Someone cleared their throat behind them, and Natasha turned to see one of the men who’d accompanied them, standing at attention. “I might have some ideas for that, Your Highness. If you would permit me the use of the sails on those boats ahead.”
He seemed confident, enough for Natasha to give permission, only for the Count to interrupt, his barrel chest puffing up with indignation. “I didn't recall assigning you for this mission.”
“I volunteered, my Lord.”
“And who are you?”
He wasn't one of the Count’s men, Natasha realised. She recognised his face from around the castle, though she didn't know the man’s name. According to the red eagle insignia on his dark surcoat, he was a member of the castle guard. He was one of her men.
“Get him what he needs, Stane,” Natasha said. She didn't bother to look or listen to the Count stomp off, her eyes on the guard. He was smart enough not to leave without dismissal, and seemed less tense now he was away from under the Count’s eye. “Did my father send you?”
“No, Your Highness.”
“My mother?”
“No, Your Highness.”
“You volunteered yourself? How patriotic.”
“I swore an oath to protect your family, Your Highness.”
“Did all your fellow guardsman not pledge to do the same? And yet, you alone are here from the castle guard to protect me.” Natasha hadn’t seen anyone else dressed in her colours. They were all dressed in the grey and black of the Count’s colours.
“I'm not alone, Your Highness,” he answered easily, a small twitch of his right shoulder telling her that he knew he was being watched. He’d sensed the protective eyes of Natasha’s guard on him from behind. She was reluctantly impressed.
“You didn’t answer before, what is your name?”
“Rhodes, Your Highness.”
Natasha nodded, imprinting the name to her mind, “Rhodes. Tell me about these ideas of yours.”