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Chapter Text

“Anthony!” Howard walked into the forge, livid about something or other. “You were supposed to be at your lessons!”

Oh, thought Tony. That’s what I forgot.

“Sorry,” he said, not looking up from his project. He was developing a new type of armor. If he could just crack the articulation issue…

“Look at me when I’m speaking to you!” Howard slammed a hand down on Tony’s table. “The Winter Kingdom is arriving tonight, and you’re woefully underprepared! You’ve been neglecting your princely duties, and now you’re going to make a fool out of me in front of everyone.”

“Probably,” Tony said flippantly, too used to Howard’s insults for it to mean much. The mouthing off, though, wasn’t worth the sharp hit to the back of his head.

“Clean yourself up,” Howard growled. “I expect to see you on your best behavior at dinner.”

Tony ignored him, staying silent until he heard the footsteps leave the forge. “J,” he called to one of the forge’s helper spirits. “Can you run some tests on the new material? I have to go play happy family.”

“Certainly, Sir,” came Jarvis’s smooth reply. “I wish you the best of luck.”

“God knows I’ll need it,” Tony muttered, standing up. “Stupid fucking Winter Kingdom and stupid fucking diplomacy. I was not cut out for this shit.”

He was more pissed than usual, because he knew what this diplomatic meeting was for. The Spring Kingdom, ruled by his family, hadn’t met with the Winter Kingdom in decades. All the sudden, because Spring had a marriable heir, they were reopening relations? Tony could recognize a marriage alliance, thank you very much. With his luck, the Winter King would be some ninety year-old pervert and Tony would be stuck with him. He knew there wasn’t much he could do, even as Prince of Spring, to prevent what was sure to be a terrible, horrible fate. Didn’t mean he wouldn’t try, though.

Barging into his rooms, he dramatically flopped on the bed when he saw his audience.

“Pepper,” he whined to his chief advisor. “It’s not too late for you to kill me and assume my position.”

Pepper looked unimpressed by his antics. “As attractive as killing you sounds, I’ll have to pass,” she said with a wry grin. “Don’t you have a dinner to prepare for?”

Tony shrugged. “I figure if I don’t turn up, they’ll give up on the whole marriage plan,” he admitted.

“They won’t,” she sounded sad, knowing how much Tony hated the idea.

“No, they won’t.”

“Could be worse?” Pepper offered lamely. “They could be marrying you off to Summer?”

Tony groaned. The Prince of Summer was an insufferable idiot named Justin Hammer, who Tony hated with every fiber of his being. He was an absolute idiot, completely unattractive, and a massive douchebag. “Who’s to say Winter isn’t worse?” he challenged.

Pepper sighed. “Get dressed,” she said. “If you’re late, Howard will be worse than usual.”

“Fine,” he grumbled, rubbing the forming bruise on the back of his head. “Help me out? You know I’m hopeless with colors.”

She smiled and started rummaging through his closet, humming every so often. “Here,” she said finally, holding out a red tunic laced with gold, a pair of dark green slacks, and Tony’s least favorite, a long gold cape. “Spring colors.”

“Why do we get the shitty colors?” he asked dramatically, changing clothes with a thankful smile. “Green washes me out.”

“You just have poor taste,” Pepper argued, smoothing out the folds in her cornflower blue gown. “I like our colors. Now, Rhodey will be here at seven to escort you down to dinner. I have to go argue with idiots on your behalf, so you’d better be grateful.”

“I thank god for you every day, Virginia Potts,” Tony said, a rare edge of sincerity to his voice.

“Good,” she replied primly. “Will that be all, Prince Stark?”

Tony grinned. “That will be all, Advisor Potts.”

She walked out, leaving Tony alone to his thoughts. His mind was racing a mile a minute, worrying about the damn Winter Kingdom. As flip as Tony was, he knew what was at stake. Summer had been making noise about reclaiming some disputed land on their borders, and Winter would be a powerful ally if it came to blows. But Winter was known to be ruthless and self-serving; they wouldn’t offer their help for nothing. Tony, it seemed, was the price to be paid. He knew he’d do it for his kingdom in a heartbeat, but it rankled, not being given a choice. As much as he wanted to run away, to disappear into the thick forests outside the castle, Tony knew that he had to stay. He had to suffer whatever dog and pony show Howard had devised and try not to kill the Winter King in his sleep.

Easier said than done , Tony thought resentfully, head giving him all sorts of suggestions for what the Winter King was like. 

He spiraled until Rhodey came to fetch him, pacing around his room like he was already caged.

“It’s time,” Rhodey announced, voice sounding like a death knell to Tony.

Tony fell into place beside his knight as they walked to the dining room, comforted by the other man’s mere presence. They had been friends since childhood, with Rhodey training to be Tony’s guard from a young age. Wherever Tony went, Rhodey followed. Except, unfortunately, the Winter Kingdom.

“I’ll miss you,” Tony said finally, arriving at the doors to the dining room.

“Nothing’s set in stone,” Rhodey reminded him. “I could still go with you.”

Instead of answering, Tony pushed open the oaken doors. He strolled to his seat at Howard’s right, mask of confidence firmly in place.

“Good evening,” he greeted his mother. He ignored his father completely, choosing instead to watch the doors where the Winter Kingdom would be entering any moment. He was filled with nerves but doing his best not to show it. The only outward signs, in fact, were his white knuckles and narrowed eyes.

The doors opened, and a herald dressed in Winter colors announced the arrival of the delegation.

A small group walked in, looking powerful despite their number. On the left, a brunette woman with blood red lips fixed Tony and his family with an appraising stare, hand resting lightly on her sword. On the right, a blond man clutched a shield, clearly cataloguing everything and everyone in the room. Tony immediately ruled them both out as royalty; they were likely an advisor and a knight, like his Pepper and Rhodey. In the center stood the Winter King. His blue eyes were cold like his title. One of his arms glinted metal. The rest of him was swathed in black leather, topped with a blue sash off one shoulder. He made eye contact with Tony, and Tony felt his breath catch a little (though he was trained well enough to not show it).

Well, Tony appraised, giving the king another discreet onceover. Slightly hotter than anticipated.  Shit.

Chapter Text

“I really don’t see the point in this alliance,” Bucky said tiredly, sick of hashing out the same points with his chief advisor.

Peggy pursed her lips. “Think of it this way,” she said. “Winter is trying to reinstate itself into the world after decades of isolation. If we just come out of nowhere, no one is going to take us seriously. Spring has a problem we can fix, which will put us in good standing with them. The marriage alliance is icing on the cake, because everyone knows how well-loved Prince Stark is by every kingdom. He’s the key to opening up communication not only with Spring, but Summer and Autumn.”

“If you think it’ll work,” Bucky conceded finally. He wasn’t a huge fan of a marriage alliance, but even he could tell that Peggy was right. “When do we leave?”

“As soon as Steve says he’s ready,” she replied fondly. Peggy had a soft spot for Steve; the two had a will they, won’t they dynamic that amused the whole kingdom. “That boy is always late.”

“Hurtful,” Steve walked in, hand on his beloved shield. “Hurtful and rude, Carter.”

“But not wrong,” she pointed out. “Let’s go. We’re already running late if we want to reach Spring by nightfall.”

The ride went faster than Peggy had feared, even with all the extra security. Despite its brevity, though, Bucky was impatient. He wanted to get the whole thing over with. Being king wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, if he was honest with himself. He couldn’t just go back to the castle and lock himself away, not with an entire kingdom relying on him.

Stupid HYDRA , he cursed. He hadn’t been born noble, but he had led the rebellion against the tyrannical HYDRA regime and his people made him king afterward. He had tried to pass the crown to Steve, but the asshole was happier being a knight.

“We’re here,” Steve said grimly. He was on edge, worried about how they would be received. After HYDRA, promises by nobles meant next to nothing to Steve. He wanted to be sure they weren't walking into an ambush.

Waiting at the gates was a lean redhead in a blue gown. Her hair was drawn back in an elaborate ponytail, keeping it away from her no-nonsense expression.

“My name is Virginia Potts,” she greeted, not without warmth. She fell and rose in a neat curtsy that Bucky had to admire, given how precariously balanced her shoes made her look. “I am Chief Advisor to Prince Anthony.”

“Sir Steve Rogers,” Steve said gruffly. “Behind me are Chief Advisor Margaret Carter and King James.”

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance,” she replied politely, if distantly. She looked troubled, but Bucky knew it wasn’t any of his business to ask why. He hadn’t been a king very long, but even he knew how basic court etiquette differed from regular human decency. “I’m here to lead you to your rooms and the dining hall.”

“Forgive me for asking,” Peggy chimed in as they walked. “But isn’t that below your station?”

Potts smiled fondly, as if in memory. “A little,” she admitted. “But the Council decided that I was the best candidate for greetings, due to my experiences with Prince Anthony.”

“Experiences?” Bucky asked. “What does that mean?”

“Frankly, Your Majesty, it means that if I can handle Prince Anthony, I can handle anyone,” her smile was still in place, leading Bucky to believe that she harbored some sort of affection for the prince. Potts stopped in from of a set of engraved doors. “These are your rooms,” she explained. “I will wait here until you all are ready for dinner.”

Steve walked in first, followed by Peggy, who had her sword out. That left Bucky standing awkwardly with Potts, watching his friends sweep the rooms.

“What’s he like?” Bucky asked, out of the blue. He cursed his curiosity on the inside, worried Potts would find him rude.

Potts blinked in surprise. “He’s kind, Your Majesty,” she said finally. She sounded a bit wary. “He’s also intelligent, probably the smartest person you’ll ever meet. He’s a good prince and a better person.”

Peggy and Steve motioned that the room was clear. “Thank you,” Bucky said, walking inside, closing the doors behind him.

“What did you think of Potts?” Steve asked suspiciously. Since HYDRA, he had been almost paranoid when it came to new people. Anyone could be their old enemy in disguise coming back for another round.

Peggy answered, “She seems fine. She’s not faking her affection for Anthony and she’s harboring no secret hatred for us.”

“She’s wary, which she’s right to be,” Bucky added. “We are complete strangers in her kingdom, come to steal her prince. Less talk, now. We have a dinner to get ready for.”

Bucky changed himself out of his riding clothes and into his formalwear, a tight leather suit with a blue sash over his metal arm (a souvenir from HYDRA and the price of his victory). He was ready within minutes, tying his long hair back in a simple bun to complete his ensemble.

“How do I look?” he asked cheekily when the other two were finished.

“Oh, honey, no,” Peggy winced and redid his hair in a complex braid. “Much better.”

She opened the door, revealing Potts still standing outside, engaged in conversation with a knight.

“Your Majesty, this is Sir James Rhodes, personal guard to Prince Anthony,” she introduced the man, who bowed low in deference.

“Your Majesty,” his voice was deep and his tone betrayed no emotion. “An honor to meet you. I am to escort you and your delegation to the dining room.”

“Oh?” Peggy arched an eyebrow. “I thought Chief Advisor Potts was our escort?”

“There’s been an emergency,” Potts explained, fingers twitching anxiously. “I’m needed in the council room, so Sir Rhodes will accompany you instead.” With a final curtsy, she raced off as fast as her impractical heels could take her in the opposite direction, muttering to herself about idiot council members who can’t read a fucking chart.

Bucky had to suppress a smile as Rhodes led them to another set of doors, this one more ornate than the last. A herald signaled their arrival, and Bucky strode into the room. A quick scan showed the dining table, the three royals at one end, and assorted servants milling about. His eyes locked on the prince, sitting at the king’s right hand. Bucky felt his breath hitch a little; the prince was gorgeous. His eyes were whiskey gold and filled with intelligence, like he was assessing Bucky right back. A gold circlet upon his head was wreathed by dark curls, the color setting off his olive skin beautifully.

“King James,” King Howard rose out of his seat to greet them. “A pleasure.”

“Likewise,” Bucky replied, tearing his eyes from the Prince.

“This is my wife, Queen Maria,” Howard said, gesturing to the woman curtseying to him. “And my son, Prince Anthony.” Anthony didn’t bow; rather, he cocked his head in clear defiance. A challenge was written on his face, one that Bucky had every intention of answering in their future. He could read what the challenge cost the young prince, though, in Howard’s gritted teeth and angry eyes.

“Welcome to the Kingdom of Spring, King James,” Anthony said, tone a subtle mockery of respect. “Won’t you sit and dine with us?”

“Gladly,” said Bucky, sitting at the other head of the table across from Howard. “It was a long journey, and I’m starving.”

Maria looked slightly put off by his lack of manners, but when she spoke, it was admirably missing from her tone. “We have plenty,” she said graciously. “And we are glad to share. Will your companions be dining with us as well?”

“Yes,” Bucky said decidedly, gesturing for Peggy and Steve to sit on either side of him so the table was full.

Howard cut a bite of food, making sure Bucky saw him eat it. Bucky was familiar with that, at least, showing your guests that the food wasn’t poisoned. “How fares the Winter Kingdom?” he asked. “We had no news for years, then suddenly we hear from you, asking for an alliance.”

“We just reclaimed our kingdom,” Bucky explained. “HYDRA, the tyrants from Autumn, had taken us over, enforced our silence. We were able to defeat them, finally, which is why we’re reaching out now.”

“So, you’re insurgents,” Anthony said delicately, meeting Bucky’s eyes.

“In a word, yes,” Bucky admitted, ignoring the sharp glances thrown his way. “But HYDRA was made up of despots, happy to kill my people, and we couldn’t let that happen.”

“Admirable,” Anthony said, turning back to his food. “I-”

He was cut off by a messenger bursting into the room, panting for breath. “King Howard!” he exclaimed, abandoning decorum. “Summer has launched an attack on our southernmost border.”

Howard swore, standing up so fast he almost knocked his chair over. “Maria, get you and our guest to safety. Anthony…” He scowled. “War room. I hope you’re ready, boy.”

The prince scoffed. “Screw the war room,” he said, striding out. Bucky smiled at his open resistance to his father. “I’m going to the front.” He turned towards Bucky. “It was nice meeting you, King James, but I’m afraid I have to run.” He offered no platitudes, no manners, and Bucky felt his smile turn to a smirk.

Oh, he was going to have fun with this prince.

Chapter Text

After dramatically leaving the dining hall, Tony practically sprinted to his forge to grab his armor. He knew Howard would make him pay for it later, but he had to help his people, something he couldn’t do from the war room. Besides, it was a good excuse as any to not have to be around the Winter delegation.

“Jarvis, armor,” he called, stripping to his reinforced undersuit as the forge spirit brought the red and gold suit. More Autumn colors than Spring, but Tony was known for being contrary and eccentric. Jarvis helped him secure the armor, tightly attaching the chestplate to his arc reactor, a parting gift from a band of Summer terrorists before he escaped. Tony tucked his helmet under his arm as Rhodey walked in in full armor.

“I’m supposed to stop you,” he said bluntly.

Tony grinned cheekily. “You won’t, though.”

“Howard’s going to pitch a fit,” Rhodey looked resigned. “I’ll meet you there, because I’m assuming you’re not going to do the rational thing and ride with me?”

“I can fly , Rhodey,” Tony charged up his repulsors, blasting into the sky. Their whine disguised Rhodey’s exasperated but fond sigh.

The flight, normally an hour’s ride at top speed, was short with Tony’s recent adjustments to the repulsor capabilities. He landed softly, surveying the field. Of course, it was the Ten Rings, the Summer terrorists who had taken him hostage. Tony swore viciously. He thought he had wiped them all out and salted the earth, but apparently not.

The Ten Rings were attacking the villagers, rounding the men up and threatening the women and children. Somehow, they hadn’t noticed him in his shining armor.

“That’s sexist,” he announced himself, shooting one of the terrorists who was separating the men and women for transport. “Really, is Summer that uncivilized?”

In lieu of a verbal answer, the terrorists opened fire on him. The armor deflected the bullets, but Tony knew he’d have bruises later on. He waited patiently until they ran out of ammunition.

“My turn,” he said, firing his repulsors. A few shots and the first wave was down. The second wave had wisened up and taken hostages, forcing Tony to think fast. He activated one of the shoulder mounted guns; not his favorite, but it would work. The bullets reached their targets, freeing up the hostages. “Run!” Tony shouted, pushing them behind him to take on the rest with his new lasers (he had been itching to test them on the field).

The battle was done quickly, the sheer power of Tony’s armor overwhelming the Ten Rings as fast as it usually did. He had just taken off his helmet, exhausted, when the cavalry arrived.

“Took you long enough,” he greeted Rhodey, who was at the helm. “We need medical on some of the villagers. A few shots went wide.”

Rhodey looked at him appraisingly. “You need medical,” he decided. “You’re bleeding.”

“Flesh wound,” Tony said automatically before stopping to think. “Where am I bleeding?”

“Tony, you’ve been shot in the side!”

“Oh, shit, really?” Tony groaned, facepalming. “I really thought I got this alloy right.”

“ That’s your concern?”

By then, the rest of the troops had caught up, including their medic, Bruce Banner.

“Prince Anthony,” Bruce greeted, conscious of their audience, hopping down awkwardly from his horse. “May I check over your wounds?”

Tony shook his head. “Civilians first,” he said. “I won’t bleed out, don’t worry.”

Bruce gave him an approving look before complying. “I hope you brought me a horse, Platypus,” Tony said, leaning against an undemolished wall and closing his eyes. “I think flying home is out of the question.”

A low chuckle that definitely wasn’t Rhodey’s had his eyes flying back open. “Platypus?” the Winter King teased. “Is that any way to address a king?”

Tony refused to look embarrassed, admirably fighting off his blush. “A nickname for Sir Rhodes,” he said smoothly, picking the persona of Prince Anthony back up. He scanned the crowd discreetly for his friend, but couldn’t find him. “We’ve been friends since childhood, it’s a long joke I couldn’t explain if I tried. My apologies for my manners, Your Majesty.”

“Who made your armor?” the king asked, waving off Tony’s (admittedly halfhearted) apology.

“I did,” Tony said proudly.

Barnes looked stunned. “You?” he sounded skeptical.

Tony’s pride turned to anger. “Yes, me,” he snapped. He hated being underestimated. People always thought he was dumb and incapable because he was a prince. Of course Barnes would think that, too. “If that’s all, Your Majesty, I have to attend to my subjects.” He turned around sharply (and somewhat rudely), giving the king his back and marched over to the impromptu medical tent.

“Here to get checked out?” Bruce asked, deftly tying off a set of stitches.

“Here to help,” Tony replied, grabbing a set of bandages.

Bruce sighed. “Bandage your wound first, I don’t want you bleeding all over my patients.”

“Aw, Brucie, you say the sweetest things,” Tony teased, gingerly peeling the bloodied chestplate away from himself. On his side, on the weaker section of the armor (he couldn’t thicken it without losing articulation), a bullet hole had pushed the armor into his skin before embedding itself in the muscle. Even the silk of his undersuit hadn't managed to stop the bullet, which meant they were a newer type than what he had thought the Ten Rings had. The shock and adrenaline was wearing off and Tony was starting to feel the ache of the wound. He grimaced, not looking forward to digging the bullet out.

Huffing out a breath, he grabbed the tweezers only to have them plucked out of his hand. “What the hell?” he asked, meeting King James’s wintry eyes. “I need those!”

“Let me,” Barnes said softly. “As an apology for offending you earlier.”

“Fine,” Tony said, crossing his arms (and hiding his wince when it tugged on his side). Gently, gentler than Tony would’ve been to himself, Barnes pulled out the bullet. Before Tony could ask, he was nimbly sewing it up and bandaging it. The whole process took only minutes, and Tony was in shock at the easy efficiency of the Winter King. “Thanks,” he said grudgingly when it was over. He snatched the bullet from the bloody tin, tucking it in his pocket to study later. “If you care to, Your Majesty, there are others who could use your assistance.” Tony hopped down from the table he was on, lightly brushing past Barnes when he didn’t move out of the way.

“All clear, Your Highness?” Bruce asked, looking carefully at Barnes while addressing Tony. Tony nodded his assent, catching the wad of bandages Bruce threw his way. “Start with the children, then.”

Tony found his smile came easy when he went to talk to the kids, helmet cast aside somewhere so he wouldn’t scare them with its unforgiving visage.  He bandaged cuts and cleaned scrapes, keeping up a steady flow of chatter in the native language of the Spring kingdom. Despite his silence, Tony noticed Barnes’s presence next to him, bandaging and stitching the adults while casting tentative looks at Tony.

He caught Barnes’s eye when he finished, a clear question written in his own. Why are you helping? Barnes didn’t answer, just giving him a cryptic smile that Tony found himself hoping to unravel.

He always had been drawn by mystery, after all.

Chapter Text

Even in the darkness of the Winter Kingdom, Bucky had heard stories about the Golden Avenger, savior of Spring. He’d heard of the man who could fly, who could take on armies by himself, who defended those who couldn’t fight for themselves. The Golden Avenger had inspired many a rebellion in Winter. Honestly, Bucky had thought it a myth.

He never thought he’d actually see the Golden Avenger.

He never thought it would be Prince Anthony.

But seeing the young prince in the armor, standing amid the destruction of his own making had made him reevaluate everything he had thought of the man so far. He figured Anthony was on the arrogant side and a bit of a brat. He never would’ve imagined him one to throw himself into the line of fire, refuse medical treatment so the doctor could help others who were less injured, then aid the doctor minutes after getting a bullet removed from his side.

Bucky had to admit, he was a little smitten with Anthony. Beautiful and a fighter? Bucky had been doomed from the start. Being himself, though, he had to say something completely tactless and mess it up. When he had asked the prince who made the armor, he had not been expecting Anthony to have made it himself. He guessed it fit with what Potts told him about the man’s genius, but it caught him off guard enough to let skepticism bleed into his tone. Anthony’s cool anger had made him feel bad about it; he could only imagine how often the prince got that reaction from people.

He tried to make it up to Anthony, stitching up his wound in quiet apology. He found it a little disconcerting how Anthony didn’t even flinch at the pain, like he was used to dealing with it (mostly, that thought just made him sad). After, he helped to patch up the Spring subjects, admiring the way the prince was with the young ones. His smile looked realer than it had all night, loose and free (and the way the language rolled off his tongue was nothing short of sinful).

When Anthony had looked at him, challenging, Bucky replied only with a small smile. He wasn’t sure what Anthony was asking, really, just that there was a question in his eyes. At Bucky’s non answer, the prince rolled his eyes and walked back over to the doctor, bantering quietly about how horrible of a patient he was.

The doctor was clearly skittish, maybe even afraid of Bucky. Bucky couldn’t blame the man, honestly; the resting murder face and the metal arm tended to scare people. He caught how the doctor held his tongue; he teased the prince like a friend when he thought Bucky was out of earshot, but he deferred to him by his title whenever Bucky was near. Under HYDRA, not calling the nobility by their titles meant immediate punishment. For the princes and king, the punishment was execution. Anthony’s easy familiarity with his subjects made Bucky miss something he’d never had; everyone in the Winter court was stiffly formal except Peggy and Steve.

“Your Majesty,” a knight, not one Bucky recognized, bowed low, startling Bucky out of his thoughts. “We will depart for the castle soon.”

Bucky nodded in acknowledgement and climbed gracefully onto his horse to wait. He watched Anthony leave the cobbled together medical tent arm-in-arm with Rhodes, clearly crashing from the adrenaline.

“No flying!” he heard Banner call.

Rhodes was carefully supporting the prince. “Do you want to ride with me?” he asked, walking towards where his horse was tethered next to Bucky’s.

Anthony’s eyes flicked discreetly to Bucky, so quick that Bucky almost thought he imagined it. “No need,” the prince said. Rhodes seemed to understand whatever that glance meant, acquiescing.

Anthony swung up onto the horse next to Rhodes’s, a lively red mare. Not the usual steed for a prince; Bucky had expected something ostentatious, like Zola’s stallions. In comparison, Anthony’s horse looked rather plain. He rode with an easy sort of confidence, like he wasn’t halfway to crashing and injured to boot.

Rhodes shot Anthony an unreadable look before going to the front of the group. Anthony fell in line with Bucky, probably breaking all sorts of arbitrary rules on decorum. “Your Majesty,” he greeted neutrally.

Bucky was getting really sick of the formality.

“I’m not really noble,” he blurted out before he could change his mind. “You don’t have to keep up with the Your Majesty thing. Call me Bucky, please.”

Anthony was silent for a moment, considering, before he chuckled lightly. “Sure thing, Bucky ,” he said, eyes full of mirth. “Call me Tony, then.”

“I’m not sure that’s allowed,” Bucky said. “You’re actually a prince.”

“Semantics,” Tony waved a hand. “You’re technically the King of Winter. You outrank me, Your Majesty .”

Bucky sighed. “Fine, Tony.”

Tony’s answering grin was radiant. “Was that so hard?” he teased. They rode in silence for a few minutes before, out of the blue, Tony asked, “What are the odds, you think?”

“With or without us?” Bucky instantly knew what the prince was asking about. What are our chances at beating Summer?

“Either.”

“High,” Bucky admitted. “You decimated an entire force on your own. With your army or mine, Spring could easily repel invaders.”

“The Ten Rings are child’s play for me now,” Tony replied flippantly. “I’ve been hearing things, rumors about who is really running the Summer Kingdom. I’m not sure we’d win by ourselves.”

“Hence this alliance.”

Tony turned in his saddle. “What do you stand to gain?” he asked, eyes piercing. “Why come out of the woodwork now?”

Bucky shrugged. “Peggy says it will ease our introduction as a kingdom,” he admitted. “Says you’re popular enough to pave the way to more alliances.”

“So I’m a fucking trophy,” Tony muttered, low enough that Bucky didn’t think he was supposed to hear it. “At least you’re honest, I guess. At least you didn’t spin some bullshit about interkingdom unity and all that. I like to know what I’m getting in to.”

“I’m not so thrilled, either,” Bucky said, replying to the venom in Tony’s voice. “I didn’t exactly choose this. I’m just trying to do what’s best for my people.”

Tony’s anger visibly deflated. “I get that,” he said. “That’s why I come out here, even though Howard hates it. I’m trying to help my people how I can.” He fixed Bucky with a sharp stare. “I’m not going to stop, even if I do have to marry you,” he warned. “And it hasn’t ended well for people who have tried to stop me in the past.”

“I’m won’t stop you,” Bucky said gently. “I won’t be your handler. But maybe I can be your friend?”

They pulled up to the castle gates, which opened without a sound. Bucky followed Tony to the stables, where Potts was waiting, ostensibly to take Bucky back to his rooms. Tony stayed silent, though, as if he hadn’t heard Bucky’s question. Bucky had given up on hearing an answer, figuring he had burned the tentative bridge he had built with the prince with his bluntness and lack of tact. Waving a hand in a farewell he expected to go unacknowledged, he made to follow Potts out the doors.

“Wait,” Tony called, unmoving. Bucky stopped and looked over his shoulder. Tony took a breath, closing his eyes. “I’d like that.”

“Goodnight, Your Highness,” Bucky said, a smile playing at his lips.

Tony too had a small smile, meeting Bucky’s gaze head on. “Goodnight, Your Majesty.”

Chapter Text

Tony woke up sore, and not even in a fun way. His bruises had bruises, showing how much improvement the armor needed. He had intended to sneak off to his forge before dawn to do repairs (and hopefully avoid Howard), but fate had other plans, it seemed.

Howard burst into his rooms as Tony was leaving, face filled with barely restrained anger.

“Anthony,” he said tersely. His fists were clenched at his side. “Do you care to explain last night’s behavior?”

“Not really,” Tony replied, moving to dart around his father. Howard caught him by his shirt collar, throwing him back across the room. Blinking back stars, Tony cursed magic and Howard’s liberal use of strengthening spells.

“What were you thinking?” Howard yelled, throwing up his hands. “You could’ve ruined everything with your insolence!”

“But I didn’t,” Tony pointed out, rocking back at the force of Howard’s subsequent strike. “If he’s serious about this alliance, one asshole prince won’t put him off.”

Howard continued as if Tony hadn’t even spoken. “And then running off to play hero?” he snorted in derision. “What was that, if not an attempt to show off? You need to let go of this childish fancy.”

“I’m not a child,” Tony shot back, angry. “And I was doing what was right for our people . They needed help, and you know the cavalry would have been too slow.”

“Which could be avoided if you’d equip our army with armor like yours,” Howard had been trying to get Tony to share his armor since he had made it, to no avail. It wasn't that Tony didn’t want to; he wanted to keep his people safe, be he literally couldn’t make more.

“For the last time,” Tony sighed. “I can’t. It’s infused with life and death magics, so unless you’re planning to sacrifice half your army, I can’t help you. Don’t forget that every use of it is literally killing me .”

Howard scowled, but Tony didn’t budge. “Get to breakfast,” he said finally. “Entertain our guests. If I catch you tinkering in your forge instead of with them, you won’t like the consequences.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Tony spat. He stalked out of the room, bumping into Pepper on his way to the dining hall.

“The Winter delegation is already at breakfast; Queen Maria is entertaining them,” she said with a hint of reproach in her voice. “And I have forms for you to sign, as well as several letters from Autumn that arrived today.”

He groaned loudly, earning the stares of several servants who were flitting around. “I’ll be in when I can,” he offered. “First I have to play dancing monkey for the icicles.”

“Tony,” Pepper tried to look stern, but she was hiding a smile behind her hand. “Be good.”

Tony winked, “When am I not?”

“When you're late for breakfast,” Maria greeted, catching the tail end of his conversation with Pepper. “Good morning, Anthony.”

“Buongiorno, Mamma,” Tony pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. “Come sono i nostri ospiti?” He spoke in the Spring tongue, conscious of the foreigners’ eyes on him.

“Ask them yourself,” Maria chided fondly and in the common tongue. “I must be going, I have a meeting with Lady Everhart I cannot miss.” She walked out regally but for the twinkle of mischief in her eye.

“Good morning, Your Majesty, Advisor Carter, Sir Rogers,” Tony said, turning to his guests. “How was your night?”

“Fine, Your Highness,” Carter smiled. “Thank you for your generosity. We are all grateful.”

Tony smiled back, but underneath it was calculating. Carter was clearly gunning for something by plying him with pretty words. He just didn’t know what. Normally, he’d be blunt and just ask, but he was curious as to how this would play out.

“How is your side?” asked Bucky, derailing Tony from his study of Carter. Tony was glad he left off the Your Highness (it was too early in the morning for titles).

“Fine,” Tony replied, resisting the urge to cover his side. He hated when people knew he was wounded, especially people he didn’t know well. “You did a wonderful job stitching me up.”

Bucky didn’t smile, but his lips did twitch a little so Tony counted it a victory. “Well,” he said dryly. “I do have some experience.”

“Oh, I forgot,” Tony rolled his eyes. “You’re a big bad revolutionary, of course you know how to handle bullet wounds.”

Bucky smirked. “Exactly, doll.”

“ Doll ?”

Carter and Rogers had been watching their interaction like a tennis match. Carter, for one, looked appalled at both of their lack of respect, while Rogers just looked confused.

“Apologies, Your Highness,” interjected Carter, sensing Tony’s distaste for the pet name. “I’m not sure what’s gotten into King James, normally he’s much better behaved than this.” She punctuated her statement with a dark look at Bucky, which he returned with a wink.

“No apologies necessary, Advisor Carter,” Tony glared at Bucky. “I asked His Majesty yesterday to dispense with the formalities.”

“Technically, I asked you ,” Bucky corrected.

“Exactly what I said,” Tony grinned wickedly. “What are your plans for today?”

“Nothing set in stone, why?” Bucky looked confused, his nose scrunching just a little bit.

“I’ll give you a tour of Spring,” offered Tony. “All three of you are invited, of course.” But he was only looking at Bucky.

Rogers awkwardly cleared his throat. “Thank you for the generous offer, but Sir Rhodes offered to train with me today.” He sounded sincere, but Tony could see a teasing gleam in his eyes when he looked at Bucky.

“I’m afraid I have to decline as well,” Carter said smoothly. “Advisor Potts and I are meeting to discuss the finer terms of the alliance before we present it.”

Before Tony could get offended at the pair’s avoidance (and he could tell it was avoidance; Rhodey was still on duty for another hour and Pepper was in meetings with the council), Bucky said, “Looks like it’s just you and me, doll.”

“I am not a doll,” Tony replied crossly.

“You’re as pretty as one,” said Bucky matter-of-factly.

Tony couldn’t fight his blush down, despite his best efforts. “Come on,” he said finally, walking out without glancing back. He heard Bucky’s footsteps at his back following him through the halls.

“Where are we going?” Bucky asked, effortlessly keeping pace.

“The gardens,” Tony silently led Bucky down a servant’s hall to get them outside faster. “Stay quiet, don’t get us caught.”

Bucky’s footsteps went silent, and Tony had to turn and make sure the man was still moving. “Are we not supposed to be here?”

“Technically,” Tony whispered back. “ You’re not supposed to be here. I’m the prince, I can do whatever I want.” He flung open an outside door, letting them both out into the Spring Palace’s gardens. They were a riot of color that took Tony’s breath away every time he saw them, even though he lived with them. Daffodils and daisies grew next to wild roses and lilies, their organization nonexistent. The chaos and wildness always drew Tony to the gardens when he had been a child, leading to him making friends with the garden spirits that tended the plants (much to his parents’ chagrin).

“It’s beautiful,” Bucky breathed. The flowers unlocked something inside Bucky, making his face more open than Tony had ever seen.

Tony bent down, picking a bright yellow daffodil. In a burst of confidence, he tucked the stem behind Bucky’s ear. “The daffodil is synonymous with spring,” he explained somewhat shyly. “It means rebirth and new beginnings.”

“Thank you,” Bucky said, voice gravelly. “What’s that one?” he pointed to a white flower.

“Gardenia,” Tony looked away. “It means secret love.”

Bucky, thankfully, didn’t notice the awkwardness. Or if he did, he was kind enough not to mention it. “We don’t have these in Winter,” he said sadly, stroking the petals of a rose bush.

“We can send a couple back with you,” Tony offered, picking daisies as he walked and weaving them into a chain. “You’d likely have to keep them inside, though. They’re warm-weather plants. Does Winter even have heating?”

“Of course we do,” Bucky laughed. “Just not outdoors. There’s ice year round. Snow, too. The lakes are always frozen, but the ice at dawn is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.”

Tony didn’t know what to say, so he stayed silent and let Bucky reminisce. He hummed softly, imbuing magic into his crown of daisies, which he put on his head. He didn’t notice how Bucky trailed off, enraptured.

“What was that ?” Bucky asked finally.

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Have you never seen magic before?” he asked curiously. Bucky shook his head. “Well, I just put a sustaining spell on the flowers, so they won’t wilt. Simple spell, child’s play, really.”

“We don’t have magic,” Bucky admitted softly. “I think we did, once, but HYDRA got rid of it.”

“Are you dead?” Tony demanded. “Because if not, you have magic. All living things do, even in cold, dark Winter.” Tony closed his eyes, remembering a mage who saved his life saying the same things. “Your magic is your own, always. Nobody is powerful enough to take it from you, not your life-magic. Not even HYDRA.” Tony let his hands glow gold, growing a single snowdrop in his palm. He handed it to Bucky. “Hope,” Tony said simply.

“Hope,” Bucky repeated. They reached the end of the garden and Tony watched as Bucky composed himself, taking a deep breath and shutting away the openness Tony didn’t realize he’d miss. “Where to next?”

Tony thought for a moment. “My forge,” he decided, if only to spite Howard. “Do you want to see my armor?”

“Of course,” Bucky sounded excited. “Can it really fly?”

“When I haven’t gone and given myself a concussion, yes,” replied Tony. “It’s a lot of work to fly, though. You’d be surprised at how hard it is to steer.”

“I never thought of that,” Bucky said. “I’ve heard you make it look easy.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Tony didn’t even realize he was flirting until he said it. Too late to back down, he figured, topping off the statement with an outrageous wink.

“Is it flattery if it’s true?”

Tony just laughed and walked into the forge.

“Welcome back, Sir,” Jarvis’s voice rang out. “I was worried upon seeing the state of your armor.”

Bucky tensed, looking for all the world like he wanted a weapon. “Who’s there?” he called.

Tony placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Just a forge spirit,” he said cautiously. “He’s bound to the royal forges, but he likes to stay here and sass me.”

“You tend to require constant supervision,” Jarvis’s dry voice replied.

“Hush, you,” Tony shot back, focusing more on Bucky. “If he’s freaking you out, we can go.”

Bucky blinked in shock once, twice. “No, I’m good,” he said finally. “Just took me a minute to comprehend. We-”

“Don’t have those in Winter,” Tony finished, smilingly teasingly. “I figured.”

“Where is he?” Bucky looked around as if expecting Jarvis to pop out from behind a corner.

“Everywhere and nowhere,” intoned Jarvis, suitably dramatic. “I am incorporeal. For lack of a better explanation, I am the forge.”

“Spring is crazy,” Bucky said, but he was grinning. All of the sudden, there was a commotion outside the forge. Tony heard shouts, the scrape of metal swords, and one particularly high pitched scream. He swore darkly.

“And it’s about to get crazier,” Tony said grimly, hearing a familiar voice. “Come with me.”

Outside the forge was a disaster. The few royal guards who were stationed nearby were on the ground, moaning in pain. In the center of it all, standing tall and proud was Natasha Romanov, emissary of the Autumn Kingdom.

“Prince Tony,” she greeted, as neutrally as she could. She had almost no tells, but Tony saw the slight twitch in her fingers that belied her nervousness. They knew each other well enough for him to know that that twitch meant something had gone very, very wrong.

“Nat?” Tony dropped all pretense of formality, stepping forward to embrace his friend. She held tight for a second, accepting the comfort, before stepping back. “What happened? Why are you here?”

“Have you not heard?” Natasha demanded, looking older than he’d ever seen her. “Autumn has fallen. King Fury is dead.”

Chapter Text

“Hello, my Prince,” the redhead by his mother’s side greeted. Her hair wasn’t red like Pepper’s, the soft red of a cymbidium orchid; rather, it was dark as fresh blood. Tony repressed a shudder at the aura of danger the otherwise unassuming redhead had. “My name is Natasha Romanov. I am an emissary from the Autumn Kingdom.”

“Greetings,” Tony replied somewhat warily. “What is your business here?”

“King Fury-”

Tony interrupted, holding up a hand. “If this is about joining the SHIELD Force, tell him I refuse.” Tony had just escaped the Ten Rings and taken up the mantle of the Golden Avenger. Since then, Autumn had been sending letters (and now, people) to try to convince him to join their force.

Romanov smiled ruefully. “That’s what I told him,” she admitted. “He sent me anyway.”

“Tell him to fuck off,” Tony said, walking away. He barely made it around the corner before the arc reactor in his chest sent out a pulse of death magic, sending him to his knees. He gasped in pain, trying in vain to stand.

Feet appeared in his peripheral vision; it was the emissary again. Incapacitated as he was, she had easily snuck up on him. Tony figured that should worry him more than it did, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Hush, prince,” she soothed, carefully touching his chest. She funneled some of her own magic, bright crimson like her hair, into his reactor. The pain ebbed, leaving Tony to blink the black spots out of his vision.

“Thank you,” Tony said when he could breathe again.

“I’ll tell my king you’re unfit,” she decided. “I won’t recommend you. How does narcissistic and not a team player sound?”

Tony grinned, the charm marred only a little by the pain he could still feel. “Perfect.”

---

After Natasha’s assessment, King Fury’s letters stopped coming. Natasha didn’t.

One memorable time, Tony walked into his room after a long day only to find the woman lounging on his bed, flipping through his research.

“Tosya,” she greeted warmly when he walked in. He didn’t even startle, so used to her popping out of nowhere to be surprised by it.

“When did you get in?” he asked instead, flopping on the bed next to her.

She curled up on his chest, red hair covering the blue glow of his reactor. “An hour ago,” she said, going back to reading. “Fury’s pissed off again. Summer is being remarkably obstinate; the Vankos are resistant to any form of alliance and it’s making him, well, furious.”

“You’re not supposed to tell me that,” Tony guessed, smirking a bit.

“Nope,” she replied. “Now, play with my hair. I’ve had a long day and haven’t been allowed to murder anyone yet.”

“Yet?”

“Get to work, Antoshka.”

---

“Run that by me one more time?” Tony asked, settling Natasha into a chair. She looked exhausted, even to Bucky’s untrained eye (he knew a spy when he saw one, but he wasn’t able to read them like Peggy could).

“Pierce is the new king,” she said dully. “And he’s HYDRA.”

Bucky sucked in a breath. “Are you sure?” he demanded, voice scarily even.

“Positive,” she replied. “He killed King Fury. I tried to stop him, but…”

“It’s not your fault,” Tony soothed. “You did the best you could."

"Where is Pierce from?" Bucky pressed. He caught Tony's confused and slightly disapproving look, but this was important. This was HYDRA.

Natasha grimaced. "Autumn, always," Natasha said. "He was chief advisor. No one saw this coming. I should've. I should've."

"I thought HYDRA left Autumn," Bucky said. "That's why they came to Winter."

"Obviously, not all of them," Tony said, effectively ending the conversation with a glare at Bucky. "Nat, who's left in Autumn? Is there anyone who'd be on our side?"

She shook her head. “The whole kingdom is fallen. Clint and I just barely got the heirs out. Clint took them away. I don’t know where.” Her composure was cracked. “ I don’t know where he is .”

Tony took Natasha in his arms, hugging the woman close as she cried silently. Bucky slipped out, his feelings a mess. On the one hand, he was terrified. HYDRA, the enemy he barely managed to beat, was back. He thought he had ended their reign of terror when he killed Zemo, the last operative, but apparently not. He was also jealous of Natasha. It had taken him a while to place that curling feeling in his gut, but he recognized it as envy. He was jealous that Natasha got to be held by Tony, got to crash their day and command his attention, even though she did have a good excuse. Jealousy wasn't logical, though, and Bucky couldn’t make his go away completely, no matter how much he reasoned through it.

Without realizing it, his feet had taken him back to the garden he and Tony had started in. He sat on a bench among the daffodils and scoffed to himself.

New beginnings, he thought scornfully. Seems like I’m playing the same old game.

He knew he had to go inside, had to be the damn king and step up, but he just… couldn’t. He wasn’t cut out for this. He didn’t know how he was supposed to face Steve and Peggy and tell them that they failed, that he failed. Bucky had never even heard of Pierce. How much did he not know?

“Penny for your thoughts?” Steve sat down on the bench next to him. Bucky had no idea how he had gotten there, how he had known Bucky was there, but he was grateful.

“Not sure they’re worth that much,” Bucky tried for a joking down, but fell flat. “HYDRA is back,” he didn’t mince words. “If they ever left. They’ve taken over Autumn.”

Steve sucked in a harsh breath. “How?” he demanded. “We got them all!”

“We clearly didn’t,” Bucky said. “Maybe some escaped, maybe they never left Autumn. I don’t know what to do, Stevie. I’m no king, I’m not ready for this.”

“No one is,” replied Steve sardonically. “It’s going to be a war. HYDRA led a direct attack on Spring’s ally. There’s no way this ends without a fight. But, for better or worse, you are king. So, step up. We need you.”

“I don’t know if I’m strong enough to face them again,” Bucky confided in his oldest and closest friend. The last time Bucky had faced HYDRA, he had been captured and tortured for weeks, losing his arm before he could escape and take them down with him. He still had nightmares about their various experiments and cruelties.

Steve clasped his shoulder tightly. “You are,” he said with conviction. “There’s a reason you’re the Winter King, Buck. Winter chose you. If anyone can do this, it's you.”

Bucky looked down at the daffodils at his feet. New beginnings. He had to start again, but he didn't have to be locked in the same cycle as before.

He knew what he had to do to change the story.

Chapter Text

“Your Majesty,” Bucky pleaded, looking at Howard. “It’s the only way. Think about it. HYDRA has only ever been fought one kingdom at a time. The minute that there’s a hint that a second is coming for them, they jump ship. That’s what they did in Autumn the first time. With our combined strength, we can end them once and for all. Please, Your Majesty.”

Howard looked unmoved by Bucky’s pleas (Tony wanted to smack some sense into his father, but he figured that wouldn’t go over well). “I still don’t see what Spring would get out of it,” Howard replied, idly tracing the rim of his glass of whiskey with a single finger. “I can’t risk my people fighting your war for no reason.”

“They’d get a life free from HYDRA,” Bucky said hotly. “Where do you think they’ll come next? They won’t spare you because you haven’t fought them. What will happen to your people then?”

“Enough,” Howard said softly. Even his quiet tone, though, rang with power. “I see no benefit to fighting a war that doesn’t affect my kingdom. HYDRA wouldn’t dare attack here. We are far stronger than Winter and Autumn.”

Bucky turned to Tony, eyes silently begging. Tony sighed almost silently, knowing the consequences for what he was about to do. “Father, if I may-” he started.

“You may not.”

“-HYDRA is a serious threat,” he continued, ignoring Howard completely. “I’ve heard rumors that they’re funding the Vankos and the Ten Rings. If we don’t fight them in Autumn, when they take over Summer- and they will take over Summer- we won’t stand a chance. We can’t fight a war on two fronts. King James is right, we need to end this now.”

Howard considered it for a moment. “I will accept,” he got a thin, wicked smile on his face. Tony’s stomach twisted in knots, anticipating the second part of Howard’s sentence. “ If and only if you make the weapons, Anthony.”

Tony sucked in a sharp breath, trying to ward off the memories. Bucky looked at him, clearly confused as to why that would affect Tony so negatively. He stayed silent, though, which Tony was grateful for. “I… I…” Tony couldn’t breathe. Suddenly, the room was too hot, too cold, too terrible for Tony to be there a minute longer. He abandoned all semblance of dignity as he ran out, feet unconsciously taking him to the forge.

Chest heaving, Tony ran his fingers over the casing of the arc reactor, feeling the careful spells engraved around the rim. He tried to ground himself with them, but ended up lost in flashbacks. Tony barely had the presence of mind to ask Jarvis to lock down the forge before he surrendered completely.

---

“Build me the Jericho,” Raza said, calm in the face of Tony’s agonized coughing. Tony was trying to exhale the water from his lungs before he was dunked again. “Build it for me, and this can all end.” Tony was shoved back under the water, Raza’s voice a horrifying backdrop of cajoling and temptation.

“Fuck off,” he said hoarsely between gasps the next time he was let up for air. “I’m not building you shit.”

Raza looked sadly at him. “I didn’t want to have to do this, Prince Anthony,” he said pseudo-apologetically. Tony didn’t fall for his act, sneering as best he could with his sore face (the Ten Rings were not the most creative with their tortures, but they were brutal with their beatings). “Hold him down again. Make sure the battery gets wet.”

Tony writhed in pain, screaming soundlessly under the water as Raza walked away.

---

“You are lucky,” Yinsen said, hovering glowing blue hands above Tony’s chest, where the battery rested. “The electric shocks didn’t cause too much more damage. The enchantments won’t hold much longer, though.”

Tony heard what the man wasn’t saying. You won’t hold much longer.

“I know,” Tony said, sitting up. “I won’t make it through the week, will I?”

“Not without doing something about that battery,” Yinsen replied.

Tony thought for a moment. “Tell them I’m ready to build,” he said. “I have an idea.”

When Tony blasted out of that camp two months later, with a heavy heart, burdened with loss and metal, he lit fire to every weapon of his that the Ten Rings had. On their ashes, he swore no more.

---

“-ny? Tony, can you hear me?” Bucky was at Tony’s shoulder, dragging him out of his panic attack.

“I’m here,” Tony said, blinking to chase away the memories. “I’m here. What’s happening?”

“I came to check on you,” Bucky explained. “You ran out and I was worried.”

Tony winced. “Sorry,” he said. “Howard just… bad memories.”

“Wanna talk about it?” Bucky sat down next to Tony against the forge wall.

“I swore I’d never make another weapon after I was captured by the Ten Rings,” Tony said, starting at the end of his tale. He didn’t know how much he wanted to tell Bucky. Sure, he trusted the man, to an extent, but it had only been a couple days. Even Pepper and Rhodey, his oldest and closest friends, didn’t know the whole story. “In addition to being the prince, I used to arm the kingdom. I was good at it, maybe too good at causing death for the prince of the kingdom representing life, but that’s neither here nor there. The point it, nobody has been able to top my weapons ever, even though I’ve stopped making them.”

“Why did you stop?” whispered Bucky.

“One of my bombs went off next to me,” Tony said, resolutely looking anywhere but at the other man. “It killed my guards. Spring citizens killed by their prince. It shouldn't have ever happened. I couldn’t make more weapons, knowing the blood that was on my hands because of them.” He rubbed his hands together, remembering the feel of them tacky with blood.

Bucky, thankfully, didn’t offer platitudes or reassurances. He just… sat there. His presence comforted Tony, though. “Is that why you freaked out?” he asked finally. “You remembered all that?”

Tony laughed without mirth. “That and more,” he said sadly. “Howard knew that would be the thing I couldn’t do. He had no intention of fighting your war.”

Bucky visibly deflated. “You mean, you won’t help?”

“ I will,” Tony said apologetically. “But I won’t make you weapons. I’ll fight for you, both as the Prince of Spring and the Golden Avenger, but I won’t build you weapons. And I can't pledge my kingdom's help, not without Howard's approval.”

“Why not?” Bucky looked angry, alight from the inside with righteous fervor. It was a far cry from the shy Bucky from the gardens. “Don’t you see that HYDRA is a threat? I know it upsets you, but if your skills are as good as you claim, we need you. You have to help us.”

“Do not presume to command me, Winter King,” Tony said quietly. “You may be king in your kingdom, but here, you are a guest speaking to your prince. I told you what I’ll do, no more, no less.”

Bucky flushed. “Apologies, Your Highness,” his curt tone bordered on disrespect. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to speak to King Howard about changing the terms of our alliance, because you are unwilling to accept them.”

“The Golden Avenger will fight by your side,” Tony replied. “Because I believe that HYDRA is a real threat. But if I break my oath now, now that it’s difficult to keep, what kind of person am I?” He was almost begging Bucky to understand, trying to wipe the mask of indifference off of Bucky’s face. Even anger would be better than the cold apathy of a winter storm.

Bucky stood and walked out without another word. Tony let him go.

Chapter Text

Natasha caught up with Barnes as he stalked back into the castle.

She had been with Pepper, discussing what they could do next, when she saw Tony run out and Barnes follow. She would’ve gone too, had been halfway to the door, when Pepper laid a light hand on her shoulder.

“Let him go,” she said softly, eyes calculating. Most anyone else, Natasha would’ve severed their hand for touching her, but she let Pepper’s delicate fingers linger on her arm. “Tony will shut us out, you know he will.”

“Why not Barnes, then?” Natasha didn’t sit back down.

“Did you know that Tony did magic in front of him today?” Pepper asked, meeting Natasha’s eyes. “I heard from one of the garden sprites. He hasn’t done that in front of anyone since… you know.”

Natasha sat down. “I thought the reactor didn’t let him?”

“It does,” Pepper sighed. “It hurts him, but he can do it. And he did it for Barnes . I’m not sure what’s going on between those two, but I think it’ll be good for him.”

“Advisor Potts,” a stiffly dressed page opened the doors. “I’ve come to tell you that King Howard has accepted an alliance, with certain terms. He has asked that you speak to Prince Anthony about them.”

Pepper stood. “What are the terms?”

“That Prince Anthony supply the weapons,” the page said grimly. Though Tony’s decision had been a bombshell, the people of Spring, tired of war, had wholeheartedly accepted it.

Natasha sucked in a breath next to Pepper. “Go to him,” she urged, sharing a glance with the other woman that conveyed more than words. “I’ll talk to Barnes.”

Barnes was storming past their window, plants withering just a little in his angry wake. Pepper nodded, running towards the forge as fast as she could. Natasha just stood sentry by the door she knew Barnes would have to enter through.

True to her prediction, Barnes walked right in, either ignoring or not noticing her. His strides were long and quick, but Natasha had no problem keeping up.

“They made him build weapons,” she said in lieu of a greeting. She didn’t use his title, either, clearly showing whose side she was on. “They trapped him in a cave. I went there, after. Not much of it was left, but I went there. I always used to think that Winter was the cruelest, you know? I thought that cold and ice and snow was the best way to trap a Prince of Spring, but I was wrong. Even Winter has life. That cave had none. And they put him in that cave and asked him to build for them. And they didn’t ask nicely.” A lot of effort went into keeping her voice steady. Barnes didn’t even look at her.

“HYDRA won’t either,” he said stubbornly. “The cost of beating them the first time was high, but I paid it. If he can do something to lower that cost, he should . Not for me, for his people.”

“This is bigger than HYDRA!” an edge of anger crept into her voice. “There will always be conflict. There will always be war. I know that better than anyone. But this is Tony’s damn sanity on the line! You want to talk about cost? Do you know what Tony has paid? Do you know what he’s lost? Who he’s lost? You have no right to make demands of him, not with what he’s been through,” She stopped walking and stepped in front of him, forcing him to stop too. “I will not let you break my friend.”

Barnes looked conflicted. “I…” he trailed off. “I have to speak to King Howard. Lady Romanov.” It was a clear dismissal.

“King James,” she stepped out of Barnes’s way.

The man continued to the throne room, looking significantly more repentant than he had been. Natasha sighed. It was up to Barnes, now.

---

“Do you know what Tony has paid? Do you know what he’s lost?” Natasha’s words thrummed in his head like a heartbeat. Or if he was being less charitable, like a hammer. He had gotten so absorbed in the threat that he had fallen into Winter Soldier mode. Complete the mission at all costs. Failure is not an option.

He hadn’t stopped to think about the cruel and calculating glint in Howard’s eyes before chasing Tony. Maybe if he had, he wouldn’t have fucked everything up so bad with Tony. Tony was right; Howard had no intention of helping. But Bucky had to try . He knew that getting Spring on his side was the only way, especially if Tony was right about Summer.

“King Howard,” he greeted, stepping into the grand room. It was empty save for Howard, who was lounging on the throne with an arrogance Bucky hoped he never grew to possess. He looked like Schmidt did, before the end, like he was untouchable from his perch above everyone else.

“King Barnes,” Howard replied, watching him with dark eyes. They weren’t like Tony’s; Tony’s were kind, bright with intelligence. Howard’s were cold, calculating, flat puddles of brown and black. “Has Anthony given you an answer?”

Bucky didn’t respond. “We can come to a new bargain,” he said instead. “Because you want something.”

“And what is that?” Howard arched an eyebrow.

“Power,” Bucky prayed he was playing his cards right.

“I am king,” Howard smiled cruelly. “I have power.”

“You could have more,” Bucky pressed. “Autumn has fallen. If you help us take HYDRA, you can personally mold their kingdom. No one would stop you.” I wouldn’t stop you , is what he meant Howard to hear. He felt sick, thinking about what he was signing Autumn up for. But Spring was flourishing under Howard’s rule; however shitty a person, Howard obviously wasn’t a terrible ruler (Bucky ignored the voice in his head criticizing him for making excuses for what he had just done).

Howard considered it for a minute, sickly green ropes of magic curling idly around his fingers. It looked nothing like Tony’s gorgeous gold; rather, it looked diseased and mutated, like it was still around through pure spite. “I accept your deal,” he said finally. “I’ll pledge my forces to your crusade. But if you don’t hold up your end of the bargain....” Howard’s fingers splayed, sending the green strings to circle him, trap him. The ropes burned where they touched him. Bucky tried not to wince at the pain. “Then I will take Winter instead.”

Bucky nodded, not trusting his voice. Without waiting for a dismissal, he left. He felt sick to his stomach. In the throne room, he had felt the ruthlessness of the Winter Soldier in his every word. He heard echoes of Schmidt in his head, taunting him about his heartlessness, his willingness to trade lives to get what he wanted. He heard Zemo, cruel in his analysis of Bucky as a person ( Flawed. Recommended for elimination ). Bucky collapsed against the unfamiliar walls, hoping he had made it back to his suite of rooms in his mindless walk.

Complete the mission, he thought, hating himself. At any cost.

(The memory of Howard’s satisfied face made him wonder if this was maybe too high a cost.)

---

“HYDRA has made their move,” Obadiah was like a snake, sneaking up to whisper in Justin’s ear. The man was his most trusted advisor, but Justin wanted to put a bell on him sometimes. “They have taken Autumn. It’s only a matter of time before they move on Spring.”

“So?” Justin didn’t really care about the delicate workings of HYDRA’s plan. As the Prince of Summer, he was safe from HYDRA’s wrath if things went wrong. They wouldn’t want to lose a powerful ally, especially not one as dangerous as the Summer Kingdom. “I don’t care what they do in Spring, as long as they leave me the prince. I have plans for him.”

Chapter Text

“Tony, stop,” Rhodey said, with just a hint of an order in his voice. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

Tony was on the training grounds, determined to spar until he couldn’t move anymore. “You could fight me,” he taunted. “You know you’re the best.”

Rhodey barked out a laugh. “Not better than you,” he reminded. “We trained together, remember? And Natasha turned you into a crazy assassin with her training? Not a fair fight.”

“One match?” Tony had his puppy-dog eyes out. “For old time’s sake?”

“You’re going to kick my ass,” Rhodey sighed, stepping onto the field. “Don’t play dirty.”

Tony grinned. “Don’t lose.”

They fought like a dance, neither of them keeping the upper hand for very long. Tony was quick and nimble, switching from offense to defense in the blink of an eye, whereas Rhodey was stronger, his blows more likely to land Tony flat on the ground. Tony was tired from all his previous fights (he had been training with the newest knights, blood singing for a good confrontation to get him out of his head after the mess in the forge), careless in letting Rhodey under his guard one too many times. They had trained together too long for Rhodey to miss those minute openings.

Rhodey sent him to the ground, pinning him carefully. “Do you yield?” he asked, eyes sparkling with amusement.

Tony tested the knight’s hold. It was precarious, easily broken. A half second later, Tony was on his feet again, darting away from Rhodey’s kick. “Never!”

Rhodey glared as Tony drew a handful of small knives. “That’s playing dirty,” he called, drawing his own sword.

“It’s playing to win,” Tony caught Rhodey’s first strike on the hilt of his blade, twisting until the other man had to back away or lose his sword.

“Wanna tell me what this is about?” Rhodey could see that the prince was upset about something (Tony thought he was slick, but beating up twenty knights was a clear indicator of his anger levels). His question, though, got him a knife to the neck that he barely twisted away from.

“Not particularly, no,” Tony gritted his teeth and went on the offensive. He had a knife in each hand, blocking and slashing in a twisted dance, trying to claim the upper hand.

Rhodey held him at bay, but barely. “It was Barnes, wasn’t it?”

“And Howard,” Tony lunged forward, seeing an opening. He crashed into Rhodey with the grace of a drunk bear, but it worked. When the dust their struggle kicked up settled, Tony was sitting on Rhodey’s chest, one knife to his jugular, the other to his stomach. Rhodey’s sword had been kicked out of reach. “Do you yield?”

“I yield,” Rhodey conceded. He, like usual, didn’t look upset that Tony had beaten him. “Now, get off me, you lug. You’re heavy.”

Tony rolled off of him, laying on his back in the dusty field. “He wants me to build weapons,” he said. Tony didn’t say which of the two men he was talking about; Rhodey wasn’t sure it mattered. “And I can’t. I won’t.”

“Those bastards,” Rhodey swore darkly. “I swear, I’ll-”

“Those bastards are kings, platypus,” Tony cut off the start of what would’ve been an epic rant. “Kings with eyes everywhere.” He cast a quick look over to where Bucky’s knight, Rogers, had started training while they fought. The man was clearly well trained, but fought with a shield instead of a sword.

“How long has he been there?” asked Rhodey. “I know Natasha taught you her freaky spy skills for noticing that stuff.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Since I drew my knives,” he teased. “I think he was watching to see if you’d get gutted.”

“Maybe he was waiting to see you get stabbed,” Rhodey shot back.

Tony got the grin on his face that always preceded a bad idea. “I’m going to challenge him.”

“Tony, no ,” Rhodey groaned. “You’re going to cause an interkingdom incident. Again.”

“It was one time! And Hammer deserved it, you know he did.”

“ Tony. ”

“Fine,” Tony slumped back down, all of the fight leaving him. Rhodey knew Tony enough to know that picking fights was just a distraction to stop himself from thinking about weapons (Rhodey also knew Tony well enough to know that if he picked a fight with the Winter knight, he would definitely cause an incident, probably on purpose). Besides, Tony was tired enough that another match would only end with Bruce kicking his ass, too. “Rhodey, what am I supposed to do?”

“Don’t do it,” said Rhodey, meeting Tony’s eyes, showing his sincerity. “You took an oath. You swore no more weapons. You’re a genius, Tones, you can help in other ways. But don’t do this. Don’t break yourself for those bastards.”

Tony just sighed, fingers twitching. Rhodey recognized that as a sign that Tony had hit his limit for emotions for the day. “I’m going to go to the forge,” he said, standing up abruptly. “The armor could use some work, and I think I hear Pepper calling.”

Pepper was indeed calling, but she was in the opposite direction of the forge, as Tony well knew. The prince scurried off to escape from his advisor, leaving Rhodey alone with Rogers, who was still viciously fighting one of the straw dummies with his shield.

“Care for a real opponent?” Rhodey asked, dusting himself up. “That bag won’t last long, at that rate.”

Rogers didn’t startle; he had definitely been listening, Rhodey figured. “If its not too much trouble,” the knight replied neutrally.

Rhodey drew his sword with a smile and let Rogers make the first move. Rogers swung the shield downward, catching the rim on the blade of Rhodey’s sword. Rhodey countered easily, stepping back again to assess his opponent. “Why so angry?” he asked, blocking another swing.

The clash of iron preceded the man’s answer. “I’m sure you’ve heard,” Rogers grunted. “But HYDRA is back.”

“I doubt they’re coming for Winter, after losing it so soon,” replied Rhodey, jabbing at Rogers. The other knight cleaved his shield down, forcing the sword away.

“We thought they were wiped out,” Rogers admitted, pressing forward. “We swore to destroy the and we failed.”

A blast of movement, and Rhodey had his sword at the other man’s throat. “You have allies now,” he said, not quite gently. “They won’t win again.”

Rogers, the absolute idiot, didn’t concede. He dodged, nicking his neck a little but escaping Rhodey’s loose hold. “I know that,” he said. “But who will I lose this time?” The man faltered, seemingly lost in memory. At the look on his face, Rhodey suddenly understood Tony’s aversion to emotions and all talk of them. Rhodey didn’t know how to help with the bone-deep weariness he saw on the other man’s face. As soon as it was there, though, it was gone again. “So, you’re close to the prince?” Rogers changed the subject. Neither of them raised their weapons.

“We grew up together,” Rhodey remembered sun-soaked days when he and Tony were both young and innocent. “I’d defend him with my life.”

“Same with Buck- I mean, King James,” Rogers said.

Rhodey smiled. “No worries about that here,” he said. “God knows Tones hates his title.”

“Bucky is the same way,” Rogers admitted with a sheepish smile. “Every time someone says King James, he looks like he wants to bolt.”

“He hasn’t been king for long, has he?” asked Rhodey. He put away his sword as Rogers strapped his shield back across his back.

“Less than a year,” the man answered. “Since we beat HYDRA.”

“Be there for him,” Rhodey advised. “He’s going to need it soon, I bet. Dealing with kings and princes is complicated, but I like to think I have it down to a science. If you ever need help…”

“Thanks,” Rogers said. “I mean it.”

Rhodey walked away with a smile (and some sore muscles; Tony and Rogers hit hard ), leaving the other knight to his thoughts.

---

Howard was sitting on his throne, listening to the complaints of his people. They were small things, easily fixed, commanding barely a fraction of his attention. Most of his thoughts were on the Winter King. The man came in with bluster and demands, no solid plan to negotiate with a king who had been ruling longer than he’d been alive. Howard accepted the deal, more than anything else, out of curiosity. He was curious how the man would manage to convince Autumn to be under the thumb of Spring. If he could do that, well, maybe Winter was a more formidable enemy than he thought.

The grand doors to the throne room opened, and s young messenger walked nervously into the room.

“My king,” he bowed low, shaking with fear. “I come bearing news.”

“Get on with it,” Howard gestured impatiently.

“A contingent from Summer has been spotted to the south,” the man stuttered out. “And leading the charge… It’s Obadiah Stane, sir.”

Chapter Text

Obadiah felt more than saw the boundary between Spring and Summer. Stepping into Spring, he felt the familiar magic engulf him, filling the spaces that Summer had hollowed out.

“Home sweet home,” he said to no one in particular. He couldn’t keep the thin smile off his face at the prospect of ruling Spring, taking his home back from the Starks.

Behind him, Justin scoffed. “ This is home?” he asked, kicking at the weeds. “This can’t hold a candle to the Summer palaces.”

“You idiot,” Obadiah scowled. “Not this literal place. Just the kingdom.”

“I forgot,” Justin said snidely. “You’re a deserter .”

Obadiah turned his flat, snakelike stare on Justin. “I prefer to say I’m on vacation,” he said quietly, dangerously. “After all, is it desertion if I planned to come back?”

Obadiah had left the Spring Kingdom years before, after his unsuccessful attempt at Prince Anthony’s life had been discovered by the boy’s meddling friends. The king hadn’t cared much for that, but the plans in place to kill Howard were what cinched his fate. Howard would have killed him as both a show of strength and revenge, but Obadiah knew the kingdom like the back of his hand from years spent as the king’s closest confidant.  He had escaped to Summer, swearing fealty to the Vankos, who assigned him to guide Prince Justin Hammer in exchange for their protection.

Justin, at least, was easier to manipulate than Tony was. Obadiah had a puppet prince with Justin, who he subtly encouraged to further his own agendas. If his goal of taking over Spring just happened to further Justin’s hatred of Tony, well, it wouldn’t be a hardship for him to get rid of Tony, too.

“Whatever,” Justin scowled. “How far away are we? I thought you said that this would be an easy trip.”

Obadiah rolled his eyes. “Soon.” he promised, running over the plan one more time in his head. “We’ll be there soon.”

---

“I can’t catch a break,” Tony grumbled, pulling on his armor. There was the familiar pain when it connected to the arc reactor, a flurry of death magic entering his system. “Seriously. This is bullshit.”

Not even a full twenty-four hours after he fought with Bucky, Tony was expected to play nice again. He said as much to Pepper, who sighed sympathetically.

“Nat says she talked to him,” she said, trying to comfort Tony. “And that he renegotiated with Howard.”

“He had nothing Howard would want, though,” Tony was confused. “Does he not know how trades work? He’s getting the short end of the stick, no question.”

“I hear a rumor,” Pepper lowered her voice, glancing around anxiously. “That he promised Howard Autumn.”

Tony sucked in a breath. “That’s… no way,” he said. “Bucky doesn’t control Autumn.”

“When they rebuild, I think Barnes means for Howard to have an active role in choosing a monarch,” said Pepper, a hint of distaste in her voice. She never had a head for the dirtier side of politics, her moral code to strict to allow for some of the looser boundaries of goodness.

Tony, though, understood it perfectly. “He gave Howard power,” he breathed. “Think about it. What does Howard want that he doesn’t have? More control . But what’s his collateral? He can’t guarantee… unless... “

“He promised Winter,” Pepper effortlessly caught onto his train of thought. “If Howard can’t get Autumn, he’ll take Winter. You were right; Barnes got shortchanged.”

“Now I have to clean up his fucking mess,” Tony groaned, charging up his flight repulsors. “I’m going to kick his ass, Pep.”

“Be safe.”

“Always.”

Tony blasted out of the forge, easily speeding to where Rhodey and Howard had gathered with a contingent of Spring’s forces. Bucky was there, too, with Rogers and Carter standing stoically at his side.

“Nice of you to join us,” Rhodey greeted. “But you’re staying here.”

“What?” Tony fumbled his landing in shock. “Why?”

Rhodey grimaced. “Stane is there,” he said softly. “So you’re not going.”

“Yes, I am,” Tony argued. “I’m not some delicate fucking flower, Rhodey. I can handle Stane.”

“King Howard,” Rhodey called, shooting Tony a victorious look. “Please tell Prince Anthony that he cannot, under any circumstances, come with us?”

Howard barely looked up from where he was talking to Bucky. “Let him go if he wants, Sir Rhodes,” he sneered. “If he wants to get himself killed, he can be my guest. He couldn’t beat Stane the first time, and he’s an idiot for thinking he can now.”

Tony bristled with anger. Under the anger, though, was a bone-deep sadness. He was shaking in his armor, aching for a fight to feel something, anything simpler than the storm he felt at that moment. Howard was the one he wanted to blast, but Stane would do. “That’s permission,” he said to Rhodey, keeping his tone even.

“Do you have a deathwish?” Rhodey hissed, looking for all the world like he wanted to smack his king and prince (and likely be executed for treason; Howard was an ass like that). “I don’t give a shit if you have ‘permission’!” His air quotes made it very clear what he thought of Howard’s little speech.

“I am your prince,” Tony said coldly. He rarely pulled rank on Rhodey, but he couldn't sit this one out. Not with the potential it had to backfire. The nebulous plans Tony had constructed were like houses of cards; he needed to be there to make sure they didn’t tumble irreparable. If they did, it wasn’t just his life in the balance. Tony couldn’t let Howard get control of Autumn or Winter.

“And I am your guard,” Rhodey fired back. “I reserve the right to keep you from unsafe situations.”

“Rhodey, please,” Tony flipped up his helmet and let Rhodey read his face, let him read the fear and the planning and the fact that no, this wasn’t because he had a deathwish .

“You ride with me,” Rhodey declared, turning away. Tony knew he had just won their little battle of wills, but it just left him feeling hollow.

---

Bucky watched Tony negotiate with a critical eye. Tony refused to back down, filled with fire and spite, but Rhodes was ice and calmness in the face of it. Fire won out, though, with Howard’s callous cruelty on its side.

Bucky was shocked. What kind of father spoke like that about his own son? It sent him down a rabbit hole of regret ( what kind of man did he sign the Autumn Kingdom over to? ). Especially because Stane sounded like a big deal. Rhodes knew what Tony was capable of, probably more than anyone else, but he didn’t want the other man going against Stane. Rhodes’s tone had made it sound personal.

Bucky was realizing there was too much he didn’t know, and he hated not knowing. A discreet signal to Peggy, and he knew that upon his return, she’d have found out everything she could. It didn’t help him then, though, staring at the profile of a distraught prince (who hid it well). Tony looked lost in memory, eyes tormented and unfocused.

“Hello,” greeted Bucky cautiously.

Tony turned towards him. The man looked exhausted, unable to summon up the animosity that Bucky was sure he felt. “You’re an idiot,” he said tiredly. “If the rumors are true, of course.”

“What?” Bucky was lost. “What did I do?”

“You offered Howard Autumn, didn’t you?” asked Tony. “And, let me guess, you didn’t have your advisor in the room? So when he pressed for Winter as collateral, you accepted?”

Bucky frowned. “What should I have done, then?” he demanded, suddenly angry. “We needed the troops. And I wasn’t going to let him force you to… you know. I’m sorry, by the way. I’m an idiot and an asshole.”

Tony softed almost imperceptibly. “Thank you,” he said with a quirk of his lips. “But you shouldn’t have done it. You should’ve let me reason with him. This is a disaster, now. There’s no good outcome; if we win, he takes Autumn. If we lose, he takes Winter or we all die painful deaths at the hands of Summer.” Tony sighed. “It’s not your fault, though. You did what you thought was right.”

Bucky glanced over at Howard, alight with manic energy. “What’s the deal with Stane?” he asked, changing the subject.

“He was Howard’s advisor for years,” Tony said. “They were close; not like Rhodey and I, but close. Then Stane tried to have me killed.” Tony said it casually, like it didn’t matter.

“ What? ”

“Not a big deal,” Tony continued. “At least, not to Howard. Stane ran when his plot against Howard was discovered. That was unforgivable. He’s tried a couple times to launch attacks against the Spring throne. Nothing so bold as to come to us directly, like he’s doing now.”

Bucky processed that for a second. “Why now?”

“Isn’t that the question,” Tony mused.

“Is he with HYDRA?” The timing would be too coincidental, otherwise, in Bucky’s opinion.

“Never came up,” Tony was lost in thought again. “He could be, but he could also be taking advantage of the instability to launch an attack while we’re reeling from the HYDRA reveal.”

Before Bucky could say anything else, Rhodes had called Tony over. The prince grumbled, but got onto a horse instead of flying out.

He turned back to look at Bucky. “Are you coming?” he asked, familiar half-smirk on his face.

Bucky smiled back. “Let’s go kick his ass.”

Chapter Text

Bucky couldn’t pinpoint where it all went wrong. He tried, afterwards, to explain. But everything was a blur, a mess of screams and colors, impossible to decipher. He remembered Tony riding at his side, red mare keeping pace effortlessly with his silver stallion. He remembered Rhodes leading the group, standard raised high. He remembered the snide, snakelike face of Obadiah Stane. Then it all went blank.

When he’d recovered his senses, everything felt wrong, like he was underwater. His head was heavy, filled with cotton and slow as molasses. His vision was blurry, no matter how hard he tried to focus it. More worryingly, his entire left arm was numb. The arm had special spells imbued in the metal to prevent tamper, wear and tear, and other defects. It had never gone numb before, not since he had gotten it.

Bucky closed his eyes, trying to stay calm in the aftermath. The Spring army was running around like headless chickens, alight with fear. Even Rhodes, stoic to a fault, was snapping under the pressure. He tried to breathe, to stay grounded, but nothing was working. He was lost in his head.

God, he thought. He  took… He has…

---

earlier

Tony’s heart was pounding in anticipation for the coming fight. There was no question it would be a fight; Obie wouldn’t come quietly. Tony knew that better than anyone. He had mostly told Rhodey the truth, he could handle Obie, really. He could look at the man who tried to have him killed, his godfather , and fight him without mercy. He could do what was best for his kingdom.

He talked a big game, but deep down, he wasn’t sure he could. Obie had been a father to him, treating his bruises when Howard was too busy with court to notice what he had done to his son. Obie had been the one to introduce him to Rhodey and Pepper with a loving twinkle in his eyes. Tony couldn’t reconcile that man with the one who sent him to the Ten Rings to be slaughtered like an animal, the one who looked at him with no remorse or shame when confronted. Tony wasn’t proud enough to deny that the man scared him.

The ride was long, even at top speeds. Friday, his red mare, galloped next to Bucky’s silver steed, easily outpacing him. His girl was trained for speed, for battles and wars that he never wanted to fight. It was silent but for thundering hooves; nobody wanted to shatter the fragile confidence in the Spring troops. They all remembered Obie, remembered how his betrayal nearly shook apart the kingdom. Howard had emerged from Obie’s challenge victorious, but they remembered how close it had been.

Tony looked at the trees growing sparser and knew they were close to Summer’s border. The magic that grew Spring’s great forests diminished the farther they were from the palace, denoting the end of their territory. The road was drier under the horses hooves, cracking under the pressure and kicking up clouds of dust. Tony wished, not for the first time, that Rhodey had let him fly. He could’ve been there in half the time, easy, and without all of the dirt in his lungs.

Rhodey in front of him pulled his horse to a stop, sitting tall and proud in his saddle. Tony rode up alongside him, halting Friday close enough that they could talk.

“Do you see something?” he asked, nerves causing him to clech the reins a little tighter.

“I thought….” Rhodey trailed off, looking around. “Tell me, do those trees look too green?” He pointed at a small copse, squinting suspiciously.

Indeed, the plants were too grown for the outskirts of Summer. Tony had felt it when they passed outside the range of the Spring magic, had felt something shift deep in his bones as he went into unfamiliar territory. But the bushes, they felt like Spring, mocking the dry plants next to them.

“He’s here,” Tony said, a chill running down his back. “He’s of Spring, he’s the only one that could’ve done this.”

“Fan out!” Rhodey barked to his soldiers. “Search the area!” He turned to Tony. “You stay near me.”

Tony grimaced but complied. He noticed Bucky at his back, guarding him with all the seriousness of a blizzard. Tony urged Friday forward, towards the unnatural growth. He reached a hand down to touch the leaves, to feel Obie’s familiar magic, no matter how much it made his skin crawl nowadays. Rhodey’s hand grabbed his wrist before he could reach, though, a gentle warning coupled with concern in his eyes. He didn’t say anything because he didn’t have to; Tony understood.

“Over here!” one of the soldiers called from behind them. “I found someone!”

Rhodey whirled around, drawing his sword and riding towards the soldier. “It’s Hammer!” he shouted to Tony. “He’s bound and unconscious.”

“Why?” Tony’s mind was whirling, a thousand thoughts a second. “He was on Obie’s side. There aren’t any bandits in this area. Why would he be tied up and knocked out?”

He’s bait, the thought occurred to Tony with stunning clarity, a moment too late.

“Run!” he cried. “It’s a trap!”

Before anyone could even turn, an ear-splitting shriek filled the air. Even as his joints locked and his muscles spasmed, Tony recognized it. It was an old invention, a sonic paralyser suggested by Obie from when he made weapons. Howard deemed it too dangerous and ordered it scrapped. Tony had destroyed the only prototype, had thrown it into the forge’s fires, glowing blue with Obie’s magic. Just another lie to place at the man’s feet.

Tony fell off of Friday, the pain at hitting the ground not registering against the pain in his head. He couldn’t move, couldn’t crawl away from Obie’s approaching feet. In his peripheral vision, he could ses Bucky, fallen and gasping in agony. He couldn’t see Rhodey, couldn’t turn his head far enough to look for his loyal friend.

Tony wondered if this was the end. Obie’s cold hand reaching down, maybe trying to steal the reactor again. It would be a painful way to go, Tony knew (Obie knew it, too).

Obie’s leather shoes reached him. The man chuckled, a dark and familiar sound, tainted with memory.

“My, my, Anthony,” he said. “How the mighty have fallen.”

Tony couldn’t open his mouth to respond, jaw still locked in paralysis. He met the man’s eyes, flat and unyielding and cold.

“Let’s go,” Obie said, bending down to scoop him up. The hold was almost gentle. If Tony closed his eyes, he could almost pretend he was seven again, being carried by his godfather after a particularly brutal punishment. He couldn’t close his eyes, though. He stared at Obie’s face, weathered by the years spent in Summer, screaming in his mind. “I have plans for you, Anthony.”

Chapter Text

The ride back to the castle was deadly silent. The horses' hoofbeats were the only sounds, and even those were muffled and subdued. After hours of searching, they had found no trace of the missing prince. Hammer hadn’t woken up, under some sort of sleeping spell they planned to reverse at the castle. Rhodey had finally called off the search, when the sun had gone down and the light was too low to keep looking. He left a small contingent there, just in case, but led the rest of the force home.

It didn’t matter that it was the right decision, because his men were tired and aching and nothing was going to happen, it still felt like he was abandoning Tony. He kept thinking about those awful three months Tony spent with the Ten Rings, another time Rhodey couldn’t save him. Rhodey rode fast and recklessly, trying to outrun the pain. How was he going to tell Pepper and Natasha that he lost Tony again? He couldn’t erase the memory of being paralysed, unable to scream or cry as Stane picked up Tony in a mock-loving way, gentle as he abducted his godson. He couldn’t draw his sword, run Stane through, save his brother. Rhodey had failed.

Self-pity wasn't going to help him, though. He shoved it away, shoved everything away, reaching for the single-minded determination from when Tony went missing the first time.

He was going to find his brother and bring him home.

No matter what.

---

Bucky didn’t remember much of the search for Tony and the subsequent retreat. He had fallen into Winter Soldier mode, regressing into HYDRA’s emotionless monster to an extent he hadn’t in years. He looked for Tony with ruthless efficiency, tearing apart shrubbery, climbing up trees, looking for any sign or clue of where the man could be. When Rhodes had suggested the presence of magic, even the Winter Soldier couldn’t protect against the stab of helplessness he felt. Winter hadn't had magic; Bucky was useless.

Bucky got on his horse methodically, shaking off the discomfort of having only one working arm. It was a complication, but he had a mission. And he was going to accomplish his mission.

---

“Well, well,” Arnim Zola, the HYDRA higher-up that Bucky was there to assassinate, walked into the room, shoes clicking ominously on the floor. “Who do we have here? The Winter Soldier, all for me?”

Bucky struggled against his bonds. His arms were too weak, especially with the wounds on his left. It looked infected ad throbbed with pain at every motion. Still, Bucky thrashed, desperate to get free. “Get fucked,” he gasped against the pain.

“That’s no way to talk to your handler,” Zola chided.

“You’re not my handler, you sick fuck,” Bucky spat, almost passing out when a wave of agony rolled through his arm. He clenched his jaw, determined not to scream, not to give Zola the satisfaction. He twisted his head to see a sharp knife embedded in his shoulder, the handle in Zola’s gloved hand. “What are you doing to me?”

“Stay still,” his vision was tunneling, focusing on a toothy smile. “This will hurt.”

Bucky couldn’t help it; he screamed.

---

“The Winter Soldier, in the flesh,” Zemo chuckled. “Well, mostly.”

Bucky’s injured arm had been hacked off. The stump felt like it was on fire, agony lancing up his side from the botched stitching. “Fuck off,” he managed. “I won’t tell you a thing.”

“No?” Zemo said delicately, fingers playing over the blade of a thin knife. “Why don’t I tell you what I know, then? I know you, James Barnes, code name Winter Soldier, came to assassinate Arnim Zola. I know all about the Howling Commandos and your pathetic little mission to take out HYDRA. I know about Steve Rogers, the Captain. And I know you didn’t tell him you were coming.” He leaned in close, whispering in Bucky’s ear, “No one is coming for you. No one knows where you are.”

Bucky spit in his face. “I won’t talk,” he repeated.

“We don’t need you for your voice, dear soldier,” Zemo crooned, attaching electrodes to his temples. Bucky writhed, trying to delay the inevitable. “After all, the Winter Soldier isn’t known for his diplomacy. Just his ability to kill .”

Electricity arced through his body, wiping his mind clean, only the memory of Zemo’s taunting laughter staying in the forefront.

---

“Bucky?” Steve asked, reaching a shaking hand towards him.

Winter- no, Bucky - cocked his head, wincing as the memories hit him. “Stevie?” he was begging, now, begging for rescue, for safety, for anything but HYDRA. They tried to unmake him, they tried to turn him into their Asset. After each session, it was harder and harder to remember who he was. HYDRA had succeeded at making their Winter Soldier, but they hadn’t been able to get rid of Bucky, not yet.

“You fucking idiot,” Steve cursed, crying freely. He unlocked the cell, pulling Bucky into a rough hug. “It’s been months. You left without a word. I thought you were dead, punk.”

Bucky shrugged as best he could with one arm. “Sorry to disappoint, jerk,” he hugged Steve back fiercely. “But I completed my mission. Zola is dead.”

“Fuck your mission. Let’s get you home.”

---

Bucky strode into the castle on autopilot. Rhodes next to him looked no better, but there was a burning fire of determination in his eyes. The man clearly had some sort of plan or idea or something .

“What do you know?” Bucky asked gruffly, following Rhodes.

“To look for the big explosion,” Rhodes answered wrly. “Tony has a habit of getting out of these things by himself and in the most explosive possible way.”

Bucky saw red. “So we aren’t going to look for him?” he demanded. “That’s your plan?”

“Fuck, no,” Rhodes glared. “We’re going to look for him, find him, then I’m going to kick his ass.” Bucky didn’t comment on the shakes in the man’s voice. “I’m going to interrogate Hammer. You are going to get some rest and be fresh for tomorrow.”

“I can help,” said Bucky. “I know my way around an interrogation.”

“But I know Hammer,” Rhodes replied darkly. “Trust me on this. If he knows anything, I’ll find out.”

Bucky sighed, knowing when he was beaten. “I should talk to Steve, anyway,” he conceded. He made a move to walk away, but Rhodes’s hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“He’s going to be okay,” the man said with total conviction. “Odds are he’s going to rescue himself before we even get there. He’s going to be fine, and then we can take turns killing him.”

Bucky nodded, throat tight. The Winter Soldier raged at the back of his mind, urging him to fight, to kill, to hunt Tony down and bring him back. Bucky ignored it, ignored how much he wanted to succumb, and went to find Steve. He needed his friend tonight.

---

Justin woke up to cold steel on his throat. James Rhodes, Tony’s knight and personal guard, had the tip of his sword resting gently against his jugular.

“And a good morning to you, too,” Justin greeted with an arrogant smirk. “Spring hospitality is really something to write home about.”

“Cut the shit,” Rhodes growled. “Tell me what you know.”

“I don't know anything,” Justin said airily, closing his eyes and ignoring the press of the blade and Rhodes's snarl.

Everything was going according to plan.

Chapter Text

Tony woke up with a jolt, immediately scanning his surroundings and shoving away the last threads of sleep. Since the cave, he had been a light sleeper and a paranoid waker, which was helping him now. He was tied down on a table in a blank room, with only a door in the corner. He tested his restraints; solid, with no keyhole or anything he could exploit. His armor was gone, probably already with Obie. Tony could feel his magic hovering out of reach, the ache of the reactor in his chest reminding him that he couldn’t really use it, anyway.

The arc reactor was his blessing and his curse. On the one hand, it saved Tony’s life. It kept his heart running, kept hundreds of minuscule shards of shrapnel that couldn’t be removed from ever reaching his heart. Most curses were held at bay because of it, stored in the glowing blue light until they were depleted. One the other, though, it was killing him. The reactor had been made with life energy, both his and Yinsen’s. It fed on his life force, cannibalizing him to keep him going. In turn, it produced death energy, which was slowly poisoning him. When he had returned home, Tony had tried his best to fix it, but nothing worked. He had accepted the idea of a slow and painful death, even if Jarvis, ever-loyal Jarvis, kept searching for a cure.

Because of how fast the reactor consumed energy, using magic was an exercise in futility. It hurt and was less powerful than most people’s, so he rarely did it. Tony felt the suppressors in the air just the same, though; a heavy weight on his whole body, like a wet blanket dragging him down. The reactor’s whirring sounded half-hearted at best. The only thing that wasn’t weakened was the spelled steel that his cuffs were made of. Tony tugged at them, trying in vain to free his wrists. All he managed to do was chafe them up, scraping them bloody on the restraints.

“Hello?” he called out. “Can we get this show on the road? I have places to be.”

The room echoed in its silence. Nobody came. Tony wondered if this was how they’d torture him; he never had been good with solitary confinement, something Obie knew well. He didn’t know how much time had passed while he was unconscious, how long he had been missing for.

Tony wanted to scream in frustration. He allowed himself a minute to freak out- he was kidnapped , by his godfather , who tried to kill him before, nobody knew where he was, he didn’t know where he was, there was no easy way out, he was alone - before forcing himself to compartmentalize. He shoved his fear into a corner of his brain, locking it away until he got out of wherever the hell he was.

Tony took a calming breath. No matter what, he had his brain. He had his smarts, which got him out before. He just needed to think .

First things first, he thought. I need to get out of these cuffs. He considered for a moment. This is going to hurt.

The reactor, while draining him, also served as power he could draw from, if he was okay with depleting it and potentially killing himself. Tony had always been powerful, before the cave. He figured that with the extra power, he could overcome the suppressors and break the cuffs. It would hurt like hell, and possibly kill him, but he could do it. Maybe.

You don’t have another plan , he reminded himself. He glanced at the door again, hoping against hope to see Rhodey or Bucky or someone burst in to save him. No one’s coming, Stark. Buck up and save yourself.

Bracing himself, Tony reached deep inside himself for the spark of his magic. It burned , hot and old and he was screaming and-

He was free. The cuffs crumbled under the assault, Tony falling off the table without their support onto his knees. He panted, wiping blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. His reactor was noticeably dimmer, contributing to the pain in his chest. He was weary down to his bones, but he forced himself to stand, to stumble unsteadily to the door. Deft, shaking fingers pried the nails from the hinges with blood and tears until he could open it, regardless of the lock. It fell open, almost crushing him.

The hallway outside was empty and dark, lit only by the eerie light in Tony’s chest. Tony’s feeling of unease intensified; why go through the trouble of kidnapping him, a notorious escape artist, and leave no guards? He leaned heavily against a wall, rolling the pins from the hinges between his aching fingers. They weren’t weapons, not even close, but they were better than nothing. He missed his armor more than ever, missed the raw power of the repulsors and how strong and safe it made him feel.

Tony made it down three hallways before he found Obie. The man looked unconcerned that his prisoner was out and about, not even turning at Tony’s dragging footsteps.

“It’s about time,” he said, keeping his back to Tony. “Really, Anthony, that was child’s play. You should’ve been out of there in half the time.”

“Fuck off,” Tony spat, balling his hands into fists. He couldn’t fight, not really, but he’d try . “Why am I here?”

Obie turned. He almost looked friendly, like the man Tony called Uncle , except for his eyes. They were flat and unyielding, grey as a knife blade and just as kind. “To build,” he smirked arrogantly. “Taking over Spring will come easier with Stark weapons, you know.”

“Remember the Ten Rings?” Tony smiled, a gruesome mockery of love, marred by his bloody mouth and angry eyes. “They wanted me to build for them, too. I’m sure you know that, as you ordered the damn hit. And I’m sure you know what happened to them.”

“They were primitive,” Obie waved a hand dismissively. “Waterboarding? Of course you wouldn’t give in. You’re stronger than that. But, dear boy, I know how to break you in ways they never could. You will build for me.”

“Go to hell.”

“I have more resources than them,” continued Obie as if Tony hadn't spoken. “HYDRA, in particular, has lent me a wonderful piece of technology. A chair, I believe, that your King James is familiar with.”

Tony refused to give Obie the satisfaction of seeing him flinch. “Letting me near technology? Not your best plan, Uncle .” Tony was scrambling, hoping the faux-affection could distract Obie. Tony had heard rumors of HYDRA’s chairs, brainwashing devices they used to force compliance in their soldiers. They were impossible to resist, to beat, and Tony knew he’d stand no chance if Obie managed to get him in one.

Obie chuckled darkly. “When we’re done, you can be near all the technology you want,” he promised. “You’ll be perfect; obedient and docile, silent and competent. Everything Howard wanted. Don’t you want to make him proud, Tony?”

“Fuck you,” Tony recoiled as if slapped. Obie had caught his little trick and was turning it back on him. “You’ll have to kill me. I won’t build for you.”

“Oh, Anthony,” a slow smile crept across his face. “You won’t have a choice.”

Obie made a motion with his hand and before Tony could so much as blink in confusion, the world went dark again.

Chapter Text

Justin groaned in boredom. It had been days since he was “captured” and the Spring imbeciles were content to let him languish in a cell. After that first interrogation with Rhodes, no one had come to talk to him except to bring him meals. It was quite irritating.

He had gotten used to the routine, as boring as it was. So he was surprised when a different guard than usual came with his tray of bland mush, someone who didn’t feel anything like Spring.

“Ah,” he said, smug smirk making its way onto his face. “The Winter Soldier. Come to hit me around a bit for your lost prince?”

Barnes raised his head. He looked almost murderous, but in complete control. “No,” he said calmly. “Because you’re going to tell me what I want to know without us having to resort to such extremes.”

“I’ll tell you everything you want to know…” Justin trailed off. “Later. I’m tired now.”

Barnes growled. “Now,” he snarled.

“No,” Justin replied, flinching a bit when Barnes stepped forward. He didn’t really want to get tortured by the Winter Soldier. “Come back later.”

Sensing defeat, Barnes stomped off, taking the tray with him. Justin wasn’t that upset, the mush was disgusting.

He closed his eyes, trying to remember the ten words he needed. The Winter language was rough on his tongue, but he could make it work. Now, to wait until the guards eased their rotation after dinner…

---

Pepper felt absolutely useless. Rhodey and Natasha were out, chasing lead after lead, and she was stuck in the palace. Not for the first time, she cursed her lack of combat abilities. She had never trained in them, choosing instead to focus on politics, to be at Tony’s side in ways Rhodey couldn’t. She never regretted it, but she hated not being able to pick up a weapon and fight for her friend.

Instead, she was drafting a letter to a corrupt ruler to ask for permission to search their lands. Ivan Vanko, who ruled Summer with an iron fist, notoriously hated Tony and Howard. He played nice when it mattered, but he was constantly stabbing them in the back. He harbored Stane , for god’s sake! Stane was a public enemy of Spring, but Summer granted him refuge. Her letter would do nothing but give Vanko a good laugh.

She threw down her notes with a shouted curse. What was the point? There was nothing she could do; unlike last time, there were no allies in Autumn to convince to keep looking, no whispers of dissent to crush, no nothing. Spring was united in searching for their prince, and Winter was helping where they could. Barnes in particular was like a machine, going through as many leads as Rhodey and Natasha combined. Unfortunately, there were almost none anyway.

Rhodey had gone out early that morning on the word of a HYDRA operative that Natasha had captured, headed towards a base on the outskirts of Autumn that had promise as somewhere that Stane had visited. Natasha was still conducting interrogations, and Barnes was off with his own contacts. It had been four days since Tony went missing, and they had nothing but dead ends.

Stane was intelligent, Pepper could give him that. He was cunning, able to hide in plain sight. He had, after all, been the king’s right hand for decades before getting caught. He was smart, but Pepper was smarter. She wasn’t a genius like Tony, but she understood politics and people better than almost anyone. Stane was just another puzzle, Tony just another prize. She just had to work it out.

Pepper turned back to her letter with renewed vigor. She was going to find Tony and bring him home, no matter who she had to politely threaten.

---

Bucky paced the length of the room anxiously, hand fiddling at the knives at his waist.

“I don’t know what to do,” he admitted to Steve, who was watching him with steady eyes. “I feel so useless , you know? He’s out there, probably being tortured , because I couldn’t save him.”

“It’s not your fault,” Steve repeated for the hundredth time. “There was literally nothing you could’ve done. No one blames you. But the prince is going to be fine, Bucky. If what I’ve heard is correct, he has a habit of rescuing himself.”

“He’s right,” Peggy added. “This isn’t the first time Prince Anthony has been kidnapped. He’s always gotten himself out. He’s going to be fine, Bucky.”

“What if HYDRA gets him?” Bucky challenged. “I know Tony said that they didn’t know if Stane was HYDRA, but what if he is? If they can get him to be their Asset…”

Peggy sucked in a breath. “It won’t happen,” she said, but she sounded unsure. “You’ll find him before that happens.”

“What if I don’t?”

“Then we break the programming,” Steve replied confidently. “We did it for you. We can do it for him, too.”

“Stevie, I don’t even know the extent of what they did to me,” Bucky said softly. “There might be something I don’t know, some remnants waiting to be activated. Even now, I can feel it in the back of my mind. They only had me for a couple of months, and they almost broke me. What if they have him longer?”

“We don’t even know if HYDRA has him,” Peggy raised a comforting hand, brushing Bucky’s shaking one. He collapsed against her, drawing strength from her steadiness. “It could just be that Stane’s an asshole, not a HYDRA asshole.”

Steve joined them in their huddle. He gripped Bucky tight, trying to give him some of his own surety. “He’ll be okay, Buck. I promise. He’s going to be just fine.”

---

“Stane is HYDRA,” Rhodey announced, voice clipped as he walked into the meeting room. Barnes, Natasha, and Pepper were there, pouring over notes and maps. At his words, Pepper flinched, throwing a hand over her mouth. Natasha growled and Barnes stiffened.

“Of course he is,” Natasha spat. “That bastard. I should’ve killed him when I had the chance.” Pepper put a hand on hers in comfort and reassurance. Natasha relaxed just a fraction, but her hand was hovering dangerously close to one of her hidden knives.

“Barnes, you’re our resident HYDRA expert,” Rhodey turned to the king. “Do you know of any HYDRA bases in Summer? I think that’s where they have to be; there’s no sign of them in Autumn.”

Barnes shook his head. “I didn’t know they reached that far,” he admitted. “I thought that Winter was the extent of it.”

Rhodey groaned. “Nobody knows anything,” he wanted to scream. “I’ve interrogated six HYDRA agents, and I have almost nothing to show for it. All I’ve heard is that Stane got his hands on a chair.”

Barnes paled. “A.. a chair?” he asked, staggering and putting a hand on the wall for support. “How sure are you?”

“Very,” Rhodey replied. “Is that bad?”

“That’s how they brainwash their soldiers,” Natasha said quietly, seeing as Barnes was too shocked to respond. The man looked haunted, like his imagination was running away from him. “It was commonly used on captives when HYDRA occupied Winter. Not many survived.”

Rhodey swore angrily. “We have to find him,” he hissed, itching to scream. He couldn’t imagine Tony as a mindless drone, knowing that it was his fault, his failure that put Tony in that position. He couldn’t let it happen. Never mind that Tony was his best friend and his charge, but if HYDRA managed to brainwash Tony into making them weapons, they would be unstoppable.

“Hammer said he’d give me something,” Barnes offered, eyes murderous. “He said if I came back at dinner, he’d tell me everything he knew.”

“It’s dinnertime,” Rhodey clenched his fist. “If he doesn’t fess up, tell him that he’s used up his hospitality here in Spring and the Black Widow has been wanting to speak with him.”

Barnes nodded sharply, disappearing out the door.

---

Bucky opened Hammer’s door for the second time that day. The man had barely moved from his throne like perch on the only chair in the room. He looked a bit like a weasel, if Bucky was being honest with himself.

“Where is he?” Bucky snarled. There was no time for fake pleasantries or cajoling. If Rhodes’s intel had merit, Tony could be dead or worse.

“Тоска ржавая, печь, рассвет, семнадцать,” Hammer recited with a small smile. A white fog came over Bucky’s mind.

“Stop!” he shouted, hands over his ears.

Hammer continued, merciless. “добрые, девять, возвращение на родину, один, грузовой вагон.”

The fog engulfed him, trapping him in his mind.

The Winter Soldier stood up, back straight and eyes blank. “я готов отвечать.”

Chapter Text

“Get me out of here,” Hammer commanded, meeting the eyes of the Winter Soldier. “Unharmed.”

“Are you my new handler?” he asked gruffly.

“Yes.”

“I will comply,” the soldier stepped towards the door, surveying the surroundings. There was no one there, but he reached for a weapon anyway. The back of his neck prickled with awareness.

He drew a knife from his belt, keeping his handler behind him. He led them on, peeking around corners for guards.

“Barnes?” someone called from down a hallway. “Did you learn anything?”

The Winter Soldier flew forward, aiming to plunge his blade in the man’s chest. At the last second, the man spun, the knife grazing his shoulder instead of catching in his chest.

“What the fuck?” he cried, drawing his own knife.

If the Winter Soldier could have, he’d snort in amusement. One blade against the living weapon that was the Fist of HYDRA? It was almost funny.

Behind him, his new handler laughed. “Soldier, heel,” he ordered. “Rhodes, so good to see you again.”

“What did you do?” Rhodes growled. The Winter Soldier adopted a defensive pose at the hostility towards his handler. “Barnes, what did he do?”

“I activated his programming,” Hammer said smugly. “Isn’t it wonderful? He’s wholly obedient.”

“Barnes,” Rhodes made eye contact, voice calm and steady. “Barnes, this isn't you.”

“This is what’s in store for your precious Tony ,” Hammer spat. “Soldier, eliminate him.”

The Soldier sprang into action, a flurry of blades and motion. Rhodes held firm for a few minutes, but he refused to go for a lethal blow. That was his mistake.

The Soldier got under his guard and hit him in the head with the hilt of his knife. He went down like a rock.

“Let’s go,” snapped his handler. The Soldier resumed his earlier orders, effortlessly clearing a path through the castle (he noted his malfunction; he was entirely nonlethal. He would report it when he was brought in for maintenance).

The Soldier fought ruthlessly, not flinching at the few hits his opponents managed to land. He got a stab wound near the seam of his metal arm, but he pulled out the blade without a sound and stabbed the other man in the stomach. In no time at all, the halls were clear and him and his handler were at the gates.

“Orders?” he asked, keeping his eyes averted.

Hammer thought for a moment. “Take me to the prince’s forge,” he demanded.

The Winter Soldier wasn’t sure how he knew the way, but he did. He tread silently, Hammer’s footsteps behind him echoing. He was tempted to pick up the man and sling him over his shoulder, if only from a stealth perspective. They reached the forge quickly, the darkness looking slightly ominous.

Hammer went to stride in, but the Soldier stopped him.

“Wait,” he said. He was malfunctioning, but- “I have a bad feeling.”

“You’re an Asset,” Hammer said, pushing past. “You don’t have feelings.”

The Soldier shut his mouth, then, and followed meekly into the forge. The tables were littered with wires and tools, but all of the actual projects looked to be locked away. Hammer started rifling through drawers, looking for god knows what and cursing when he didn’t find it.

“Can I help you?” a cool voice sounded from… somewhere. The Winter Soldier couldn’t place it, it seemed to be coming from everywhere at once.

“Spirit, where is the armor?” Hammer asked, enunciating every word like he was talking to a toddler.

There was a clunking noise, and the imposing form of the Golden Avenger stepped out from behind a corner. It was strangely robotic and the light in its chest was missing. Still, it held up a glowing palm and aimed it right at Hammer.

“Right here,” it snarked, firing.

The Soldier lunged to protect his handler, shoving him out of the way and yanking him out the door. The spirit in the armor didn’t follow, but it did fire several more blasts.

“Why the hell would you do that?” Hammer shouted, waving his arms frantically. “I could’ve had the secrets to that armor!”

“Mission parameters dictated you remain unharmed,” the Soldier replied in a monotone. “I complied.”

Hammer cursed, then sighed. “Let’s go,” he said. “Get us horses. We’re going to Summer.”

The Soldier nodded jerkily, disappearing in the direction of the stables. He walked soundlessly over the green grass, hiding in the darker shadows of the building and avoiding the glare of the moonlight. He tried not to think, tried to be a good Asset. But the malfunction was insidious. What was he doing?

He reached the stables and, on some sort of instinct, untethered the silver stallion that nuzzled him fondly. He didn’t know why he did pet the horse back, it just felt right. Yet another malfunction to report.

He grabbed another horse at random, spooked by the way his head was whirling. He was the Asset. He shouldn’t have conflicted thoughts, shouldn’t have any thoughts. It was odd and unpleasant, he decided.

Sneaking to the forge was decidedly harder with two horses. It went faster when he abandoned subtlety, galloping at full speed with the other horse on a lead behind him. It meant that he heard guards shout to give chase, though, when they saw him stream through the streets. He made it to the forge and Hammer hopped on awkwardly, hair singed. The Soldier guessed that his handler had tried to go into the forge again and was repelled by the spirit.

They galloped out of the gates faster than the guards could reach them, making it into the forests and off of the main roads. The Soldier figured they were safe from pursuit, but didn’t slow. His handler behind him kept up, but only barely. He complained the whole way (another malfunction; the Soldier very much wanted to knock his handler unconcious to make him stop).

The Soldier had studied maps of the Spring Kingdom extensively, like he had all the others. He knew how to get to Summer undetected and fast. He didn’t ask if that was what his handler wanted; maybe if he did it without asking for clarification, he wouldn’t be punished as badly? He clung to that thought as best he could as he led them through the forest.

“Are we there yet?” Hammer whined, shifting uncomfortably in his saddle. “This is taking forever.”

The Soldier resisted the urge to growl. “I estimate another hour at current speeds,” he said instead. He sped up, Hammer’s horse keeping pace. It shook a memory loose, a red mare speeding next to him, someone on her back.

That wasn’t right. The Asset didn’t have any missions like that. The Asset shouldn’t have an imagination. Another malfunction, he supposed. He added it to his mental list.

The hour passed in silence, Hammer keeping his mouth shut after he watched the Soldier put down the first band of raiders that were lured in by his loudness. They arrived at the Summer Palace as dawn was breaking, riding silently through the gates to a stable, where they dismounted.

Hammer took the lead, then, the Soldier following him to a different building than the main palace. It looked like a forge of some kind, but it was filled with torture tools and… the chair . The Soldier gave an involuntary flinch when he saw it, but Hammer just breezed past. Maybe it wasn’t time for reconditioning, yet?

His handler led him down several flights of stairs with warded doors. The Winter Soldier memorized the path, just in case. He saw as Hammer seemed to vibrate with excitement as they walked through door after door. Eventually, they reached a final door, which Hammer knocked on.

“Come in,” someone inside said.

Hammer gleefully opened the door, a smarmy grin on his face. “Hello,” he said to someone the Soldier couldn’t see. Hammer was fully blocking the door.

A familiar voice said, “I’d say it was nice to see you, but that’s never been true and will never be.”

“Don't be that way, Anthony,” Hammer said, stepping into the room. The Soldier followed obediently.

“Anthony” sucked in a sharp breath, fixing his eyes on the Soldier. His face was a cocktail of betrayal, anger, and sadness, mixed with a healthy dose of fear. “Bucky?” he whispered, straining against his bonds.

“Who the hell is Bucky?”

Chapter Text

Seeing Bucky so utterly devoid of emotion fractured something in Tony. Bucky’s eyes were blank, resembling a blizzard or the winter for which he was named. The Winter Soldier. Tony hated that name.

Bucky’s arrival also had the added detriment of throwing a wrench in his escape plan. He couldn’t very well leave without Bucky (memories of a cave, of a doctor and too much blood sprang to mind), but his plan hadn’t factored in an additional escapee, especially not one being mind controlled .

Well, Tony always did hate plans.

Being confronted with the reality of the effectiveness of HYDRA’s brainwashing had really thrown Tony for a loop. He had hoped that maybe it wasn’t as bad as Obie made it sound, that maybe there was a way out, but he had known, deep down, that he was kidding himself. Seeing the Winter Soldier in the flesh solidified his need to escape. He couldn’t let that happen to himself; his brain alone, disregarding previous creations like the armor or the reactor, could make weapons that could rain destruction down on all the kingdoms with the push of a button. If HYDRA broke him, they’d have all that. Tony would rather die.

All of those racing thoughts happened in the seconds after Bucky entered the room with Hammer. Tony had ceased his struggling when Bucky had spoken, too in shock to try to fight.

“ You’re Bucky,” he tried desperately, even knowing that it wouldn’t work.

“I am the Asset,” Bucky said, a hint of confusion in his otherwise monotonous voice. “Designation: Winter Soldier.”

“Hammer,” Tony growled. “What the fuck did you do?”

Hammer laughed, a ugly sound akin to the braying of a donkey. “I activated his programming,” he said gleefully. “Ten words and he’s completely compliant. Aren’t you excited?”

“Fuck you,” Tony spat, trying to control his shaking voice. “You’re not going to get away with this. Spring will come after you.”

“Will it?” Hammer’s lips twisted into a cruel smile. “I took the liberty of having our dear soldier… disable your guards. I believe your personal knight- Sir Rhodes, was it?- got caught in the crossfire. Who’s going to come for you, again?”

Tony balanced. “ No ,” he whispered, voice cracking on the single syllable. “You’re lying.”

“Soldat, report,” Hammer looked high on his victory. “Who was the first knight you took out?”

Bucky raised his head. “Designation: Sir James Rhodes,” he answered.

Tony screamed his anguish, a long note of wordless grief. His magic flared in response, coiling under his skin like a snake poised to strike. He couldn’t control it if he tried; a shockwave buffeted the room in his distinctive gold, knocking throwing both Hammer and Bucky into the wall. Tony was still screaming as his shackles crumbled, as he fell to his knees and the building shook. The reactor flickered in his chest, telling him that he was using dangerous levels of power, but he didn’t care.

Rhodey was dead.

His best friend, his knight, one of his few constants in the Spring Palace was dead. Murdered. By…

Bucky.

Logically, Tony knew Bucky didn’t do it. Hammer did, and HYDRA did, not Bucky. But all he could think of was Bucky reciting his casualty, like it was the weather and not Tony’s brother .

Tony tried to breathe, but it came out more like a sob. He imagined Rhodey’s hand on his shoulder, a comforting weight, and his voice telling him to control his power before he burned himself out. He focused on the idea of Rhodey as he drew his magic back into himself, crying at the pain of it and everything.

Tony closed his eyes, trying to find the strength to stand and get out. He knew that he probably wouldn’t have a better chance to escape than right then, but he still couldn’t force himself up. Tony wanted to fall to the ground and stay there, to let Obie and HYDRA and Hammer have him. He didn’t care anymore.

This is what you’re gonna do? Rhodey said in his head. The great Tony Stark, giving up? You’re better than that.

“You’re gone!” Tony shrieked to the air. “What do you know?”

Mind-Rhodey rolled his eyes. Get up, he commanded. Get out. Get home. You’re not done, Tones. Don’t let this break you.

Tony wiped his eyes and stood shakily, like a newborn colt. He stumbled towards the wall, leaning heavily as he tried to catch his breath.

“Get up, get out, get home,” he repeated like a mantra. He stared at the door, at the ten feet of space between him and it. It was almost clear, but for the two bodies lying unconscious (or dead, but Tony hoped that wasn’t the case).

Tony hobbled over to Hammer, feeling for a pulse. There was one, so Tony knelt down to tie his hands. He didn’t need Hammer waking up and ruining his escape. He tore strips of his tunic with his teeth, winding them in knots he learned from-

Nope, Tony scolded himself. Not going there.

He moved to Bucky next, breathing a sigh of relief when the man stirred under his hands. Bucky woke almost all at once, eyes immediately alert. They were just as blank as before; Tony was still dealing with the Winter Soldier.

“Are you my handler?” he cocked his head.

Tony wanted to laugh, and edge of hysteria to his thoughts. “Sure,” he said finally. “Why the fuck not. You killed my best friend, you know that? Now I’m your goddamn handler? Why the fuck not?”

“I don’t understand,” Bucky blinked.

Tony did laugh that time. “Me neither,” he admitted, forcing himself to his feet.

“What are my orders?” Bucky asked, standing as well.

“Try not to kill anyone else I care about,” Tony said snidely. He regretted it almost immediately, feeling a sharp stab of regret. He shook it off; he could, he would , apologize later, when Bucky was himself again. He just couldn’t bring himself to apologize to the weapon that killed Rhodey yet. Tony shook his head to clear it. “Just… stay behind me and don’t get killed.”

Bucky nodded his head once in acknowledgment, then they were off. Tony had known almost immediately from the structure of his little cell that they were underground, so he took the first stairs he saw that led up. Of course, the hallway forked at the top of them, causing Tony to curse.

“Left,” Bucky volunteered, looking as surprised as Tony felt..

Tony stared in shock. “You know the way out?” he asked.

Bucky nodded. Tony figured that was as good as he was going to get, so he went left without protest. He wished he had a weapon, wished he had anything but his meager bits of magic to fight with. He wasn’t sure he’d last in a fistfight, not with the amount of energy he’d exerted in his escape from the cell. Bucky, he knew, was definitely a good fighter. He had to be, to beat…

If worse came to worst, Tony figured that Bucky could jump in and fight. He got a sick taste in his mouth, though, thinking about ordering Bucky to fight for him, to get hurt for him. Honestly, the idea of giving orders to the other man made him want to throw up. Especially when Bucky couldn’t fight them, not if Hammer was to be believed.

Tony had never been more thankful that Obie was a dramatic fucker and wanted to wait on the chair until he had an audience. He shuddered, imagining himself with the same dullness as the Winter Soldier.

They reached another fork and Bucky pointed them right. They climbed the stairs silently, their footsteps barely echoing on the stone. Bucky in particular was noiseless, spooking Tony just a little. He was regretting keeping the man at his back- what if he snapped and killed Tony? He definitely couldn’t fight off the Winter Soldier. Maybe if he was at full strength, but even then, it would be a toss up.

They reached a door, Bucky leaning over Tony’s shoulder to push it open. Tony saw the flare of defensive magic against Bucky’s metal hand, but the man didn’t flinch (even though Tony knew personally that breaking wards like that hurt ).

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Tony chided lowly. “You could’ve gotten hurt.”

“The arm dampens magic,” Bucky replied evenly. “The Asset is operational.”

Tony reeled back as if slapped. “I didn’t mean… I… fuck. Let’s just go. How did you and Hammer get here?”

“Horses,” Bucky gestured towards the stables.

Tony was slumped against the door, trying to catch his breath and keep his eyes open. He noted the lack of guards, but he was too exhausted to consider what that meant. All he knew was that freedom was so close he could taste it.

Get up. Get out. Get home.

He pushed off the wall, steadying himself with one hand. “Let’s not get caught, yeah?” he walked in the shadows of buildings, skirting awkwardly to stay hidden. Behind him, Bucky did the same. They reached the abandoned stables without a problem, setting Tony’s senses on edge. It was too easy to grab his horse (and his blood boiled at the idea of Hammer riding Friday, his sweet, clever mare) and gallop away with Bucky at his heels.

Even as he drifted off, clutching Friday’s mane like a lifeline, he thought it was too easy. They shouldn't have been able to just walk out. Tony wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth, though. They rode the dusty path back to Spring, Bucky and Tony, silent and wary.

It was too easy, Tony thought again before falling asleep to dreams of Rhodey, smiling and happy and alive.

---

“You let them go?” Pierce screamed, waving his hands all around. He looked like Anthony, when he was excited, only older and less intelligent.

“Yes,” Obadiah explained again. “He had the Winter Soldier on his side. If we had challenged them, they still would have gotten away and we’d have half our people dead. I was cutting our losses.”

“You don’t know that,” Pierce argued. “We have the Asset’s words. He would’ve been on our side.”

Obadiah shook his head. “He claimed Anthony as a handler,” he said. “He would’ve fought until his last breath, like you conditioned him to.”

Pierce sat, putting his head in his hands. “This is a nightmare.”

“This is an opportunity ,” Obadiah corrected. “Only we know how to deactivate the programming. Sooner or later, they’ll come to us.”

Pierce looked up. “The Asset broke it last time,” he countered. “What’s to say that won’t happen again?”

Obadiah waved off his concern. “That was because he had spent too long without the code words,” he said. “Hammer triggered him earlier today; if we can strike within the month, we should be able to preempt any malfunction.”

“I’m trusting you on this,” Pierce looked like he’d rather cut off his own fingers and eat them than trust Obadiah, which was nothing new. “Don’t let me down.”

“Hail HYDRA,” Obadiah saluted, walking out. He had a knight to blackmail.

Pierce’s mutter followed him out. “If you’re not right… Well, we’ll get to find out what can kill a snake.”

Chapter Text

Steve was lost. Ever since HYDRA’s defeat, he had been almost untethered, without a purpose other than surviving. He wasn’t involved in rebuilding Winter, not really. He wasn’t into the politics, and the war was over. Steve wasn’t sure what to do, wasn’t sure how to live without the war that had been around his whole life.

Bucky was his port in the storm, his anchor. Steve would do anything for Bucky and he knew the reverse was true, too. When Bucky ascended the throne, Steve was at his side, at his six, guarding him as best he could. If he was extra vicious towards threats, well, who could blame him?

The months that Bucky was missing were some of the worst of his life. Bucky had disappeared one day between operations, leaving nothing but a note saying that he was following a lead. Steve figured that he was chasing Arnim Zola, but he also figured that Bucky would pull back and wait for backup before doing anything stupid. When Bucky didn’t come back, Steve raised hell looking for him.

The man he found wasn’t his Bucky.

HYDRA had managed to brainwash him, using their torturous (but thankfully, not permanent) techniques to turn him into the perfect soldier. Bucky’s code name before had been the Winter Soldier, a name that the Howling Commandos spread through Winter to inspire fear in HYDRA agents and hope in citizens. HYDRA had taken everything that was Bucky out of the Winter Soldier, leaving a cold and empty shell behind.

When Steve found Bucky, it took weeks to fully break through the programming. Bucky had recognized him, at first, had been lucid enough to bring back to base, but he snapped back into Winter Soldier mode almost daily for what felt like forever. They didn’t know how to reverse it; really they knew nothing but what fragments Bucky could share. They knew that there was a chair and pain, but nothing beyond that.

Steve hated the idea of allying with Spring, especially so soon after Bucky’s return. It had only been a year and a half since they had gotten him back and a year since HYDRA’s defeat. In all that time, they had heard exactly nothing from Spring or any of the other kingdoms. Any letters went unanswered and messengers were turned away at the border. All of the sudden, they were amenable to a marriage alliance? It didn’t make sense to Steve. Peggy approved, though, and she was the one with a head for politics, so Steve went along with it.

Spring was better and worse than he expected. It was a kingdom of innovation, the prince at its head. Everywhere he turned, science and magic (which was new to him, but apparently, commonplace to everyone else) were intertwined in ways he couldn’t have even imagined. The prince was remarkably capable, from what he’d heard and seen. However, the kingdom had a dark side it didn't even try to hide. King Howard was a power-hungry brute, reminiscent of Schmidt. If it wouldn’t have gotten him killed, Steve would’ve liked to deck him in the face. Betrayal and treachery were staples in the court; everyone had an ulterior motive and no one could be trusted. It was a wicked game that Steve was definitely not suited for.

Bucky kept him grounded in Spring, too, even when his friend disappeared to chat up the prince. He would admit to being a little jealous of the man who was now occupying all of his best friend’s time, but he couldn’t begrudge Bucky his happiness.

Then Prince Anthony went missing and Bucky was the Winter Soldier again and Steve was lost.

From what he had heard, any traces of his Bucky were gone. The man that attacked the palace guards was blank eyed and ruthless, remorseless and unrelenting in his defense of a criminal. Half of the guards were still in the healing wing, some more critically injured than others. Bucky would never have done that, Steve knew, so he immediately realized that something had triggered Bucky’s programming.

He bypassed King Howard, who seemed remarkably unconcerned about the whole thing, and went to Virginia Potts instead. Potts was the prince’s Peggy, as far as he could tell. She seemed whip-smart and protective of Prince Anthony, so Steve figured he could trust her to help Bucky, if it had the side effect of helping her friend.

Steve found Potts in an empty council room, crying softly.

“Er, hello,” he said awkwardly, standing in the doorway.

She jolted, looking at him with red rimmed eyes and careful neutrality. “Can I help you?” she asked. Her voice was remarkably steady, as if she hadn’t been crying minutes ago.

“I think so,” Steve replied. “I think I know what’s going on with Bucky and, if I’m right, it puts Prince Anthony in considerable danger.”

“Hasn’t he done enough?” she spat angrily, almost to herself. “He freed Hammer, he-” Potts choked back a sob. “He hurt Rhodey. Is he going to hurt Tony, now, too?”

“It’s not him,” Steve defended.

Potts glared. “Who is it, then? A spirit wearing his face? Who hurt my friends, if not him?”

“The Winter Soldier.”

Potts sucked in a sharp breath. “That’s not possible,” she whispered. “He’s a ghost story.”

“HYDRA… created him, for lack of a better word, from Bucky,” explained Steve. “We didn’t know that the programming was still in Bucky’s head. Somehow, Hammer triggered him. I promise, it wasn’t Bucky who did those things.”

“How does this affect Tony?” she asked, anger slowly seeping away.

“If the Winter Soldier is ordered to hurt Prince Anthony…” Steve trailed off with a wince. “He will. Without compunction or remorse.”

“ Fuck ,” Potts swore, pushing past him out of the room. “I need to talk to Natasha. You’re coming with me.” Her tone brokered no arguments.

Steve scurried to catch up with her frankly impressive pace (her heels made her almost as tall as he was and they were as thin as icicles). “Yes, ma’am,” he said on reflex.

“Call me Pepper,” she said with a small smile. Potts- no, Pepper - led him down a winding corridor into a wing of the palace he didn’t recognize. “Natasha’s rooms,” she explained. “She likes to be far away, most of the time. She’s paranoid like that.”

As if summoned by the mention of her name, the other redhead appeared at the end of the hall.

“Any news?” she asked, striding purposefully towards them.

Pepper looked at Steve pointedly, who cleared his throat. “I think that the Winter Soldier has Prince Anthony,” he said.

Natasha’s eyes hardened. She absently touched her side before dropping her hand as if burnt by the contact. “How sure are you?”

“Very,” said Steve grimly. “As in, Bucky is the Winter Soldier.”

“I knew I recognized him,” Natasha muttered. “This isn’t good at all. If HYDRA’s reclaiming their Asset and conditioning Tony, that means they’re gearing up for a final stand. Those two together with Summer and Autumn’s backing could be unstoppable.”

“We have to get Bucky!” Steve cried, concern for his friend exploding to the surface.

“Tony is exponentially more dangerous,” Natasha glared at him. “I understand your wanting to rescue your friend above all, but Tony could easily bring any and every kingdom to its knees. Getting him back needs to be our priority, not the Winter Soldier.”

Steve reared back, shocked by her callousness. He turned to Pepper, expecting (hoping) for her to chastise Natasha, but the woman looked like she agreed.

“Even if he wasn’t my prince, I’d agree,” Pepper said, preempting his protest. “Tony has the potential to bring ruin like you can’t know. Even if he wasn’t my best friend, I couldn’t risk HYDRA getting his mind.”

“That’s not… Bucky is…” Steve was so frustrated that he couldn’t form sentences. “I’m rescuing Bucky,” he swore, stomping off and ignoring Pepper’s protest.

He cursed the entire kingdom of Spring as he navigated back to his room. He scared several servants, who jumped out of his path like scurrying mice. Steve couldn’t believe that Natasha could be so cruel, putting one life over another. And for what? Because the Prince of Spring was smarter ?

It rubbed him the wrong way. He didn’t trust Natasha (not that he trusted anyone in Spring). She claimed to have fled HYDRA, but was that really true? Maybe she was a mole, lying in wait to stage a coup. And her recognizing Bucky as the Winter Soldier only solidified his theory that she was HYDRA.

In his rooms, Steve immediately started grabbing weapons. He took a few of Peggy’s knives, one of Bucky’s guns, and, of course, his shield. As he reached for his shield, though, an envelope fluttered off of it. Steve picked it up cautiously.

It was a letter, written on thick, creamy paper that felt and looked expensive. Steve smudged it with his dirty fingers as he tore it open, relishing in destroying that little bit of prim perfection so indicative of Spring. He pulled the paper out of the envelope to read, hand shaking ever so slightly.

Dear Captain Rogers, it read.

I’m sending you a gift. The Winter Soldier, fully operational. It seems to have latched itself onto Spring’s wayward prince as a handler purely by accident, or so I believe. I don’t know the full story; I doubt anyone but Anthony does and we all know how he is about keeping secrets. You won’t be able to break the conditioning, not like you did last time. Time and patience can only get you so far, my captain.

I have your solution, though. I alone can break the conditioning. I know the secret to releasing its hold, once and for all. Your friend can be free for good.

All I ask is for Tony. You see, my godson and I have never seen eye to eye. I just want to talk to him and make him understand why I did what I did. Surely, you can understand that? I promise that I won’t harm him, so long as you send him alone and unarmed. I’m sure I don’t have to warn you that if you tell anyone about this, you will never get your best friend back.

Think about my offer; a prince you don’t know’s time and attention in exchange for your best friend’s mind. The choice is yours, my captain.

Choose wisely.

Signed,

Obadiah Stane

The letter disintegrated into ashes in his fingers as soon as he was done reading it, leaving Steve paralysed with indecision. He dropped his shield, not flinching at the clang! it made when it hit the ground. What was he supposed to do?

Bucky would know, he thought, the ache of missing his friend like a missing limb.

Heart pounding in his chest and all alone, Steve made his choice.

Chapter Text

Natasha Romanov had had many names in her life. She had been Natalie, Talia, and Tasha, each a separate personality to suit her ends. When she had worked for HYDRA, though, she had been Natalia Romanova.

Natalia Romanova had been trained in the heart of Winter to be as ruthless as an ice storm but as delicate as a snowflake. She was a Black Widow, an elite spy and assassin under HYDRA’s thumb.

She was valued throughout all the kingdoms for her skills, but HYDRA had held her leash in an iron fist. Natalia had no way out, not alive.

At least, not until Clint Barton, the famed Hawkeye of the Autumn Kingdom, had brought her in from the cold.

Clint had been her mission; she was supposed to take him out or take him in, whichever was easier. Natalia had grown arrogant in her time as HYDRA’s best and she underestimated Clint. He ended up taking her in, throwing her in a cell in Autumn under his careful watch. Natalia hadn’t been worried; she had been captured before and had always gotten herself out and finished the mission. There was no other choice, after all.

But Clint had offered her one.

“Stay in Autumn,” he had said with a shrug, one hand fingering his bowstring. “We’ll treat you better than HYDRA, that’s for sure. They won’t take kindly to your capture. We can protect you.”

Sensing a chance at escape, Natalia had taken his offer. She had even bitten back her individual I don’t need protection. She had gained her freedom the very next day, Prince Phillip coming personally to unlock her cell (she recognized him as the failed target of a lesser Black Widow).

“Betray us and I will kill you,” he had said blandly, tucking a red curl behind her ear. “Hurt my people and I make you regret it.”

She had smirked at him, eyes full of wicked promise. “You can try,” she had replied softly, brushing his face lightly with her delicate fingers. His skin was smooth, unblemished. He presented no threat, or so she had thought. “You can try.”

He never had to.

Natasha Romanov had reinvented herself in Autumn, shedding Natalia Romanova like an ill fitting winter coat. Her skills came in handy for protecting the heirs, Maria and Phillip, from all manners of threats. Autumn was a tumultuous kingdom at the best of times, despite the rigidity that King Fury tried to enforce. Backstabbing and murder plots were breakfast conversation, with assassinations attempted by lunchtime. Natasha had gotten her fair share of scars defending the heirs alongside Clint, who had quickly become a friend (her first friend, really; HYDRA had… discouraged her from forming bonds with a very sharp knife and some creativity). Occasionally, Fury sent her outside of the kingdoms on missions, mostly to Spring or Winter.

She met Prince Anthony Stark of Spring on one of those missions. She had been sent to recruit him for Fury’s Shield Force, even though the man had sent several strongly worded rejections, most of which burst into flame immediately after reading themselves to the whole court. Natalia would have thought it ego, but Natasha knew better. Stark had just been through immense trauma and Fury was trying to capitalize on his fear. That had appealed to some long-dead sense of sympathy in her, so she had made sure Fury backed off of Stark, who had become Tony after many visits to Spring.

One of those missions was also how she met the Winter Soldier.

Natasha had been tasked with escorting a scientist of some kind out of Winter. The infiltration alone had taken weeks and had birthed the persona of Tasha, a lowly maid who worked in the scientist’s residence and cleaned his lab. It was tiring in many ways, especially because she had to sneak away to send status reports to Fury.

When HYDRA had caught onto her plan, they sent their new best to take out their old best. The Winter Soldier was everything Natalia hadn’t been; he was big and brutal, unfeeling and empty. From him, Natasha could tell that HYDRA had perfected their brainwashing techniques that she had heard only in rumors.

As Natasha and the scientist made their escape, her powers had faltered with her exhaustion. Her blood red shield had gone down for a moment before she could get it back up, but it was too late.

The Winter Soldier took the shot. And when the soldier shot, he didn’t miss.

The bullet had cut through Natasha, burning all the while, before embedding itself in the scientist’s body . He had bled out before she could get him to the border.

Natasha had come close, but she hadn’t been the target. Clint had bandaged her up with careful hands as Fury berated her for a failed mission. He had been pleased enough about the new intelligence on the Winter Soldier, though, that he hadn’t done it too hard.

When Natasha had seen the soldier again in Spring, at her Tosya’s side like he belonged there, she had wanted to kill him where he stood. There was no flicker of recognition in his eyes when he looked at her, but there were emotions, so she let him live.

King James was not the man she remembered, though he radiated the same danger. Even still, she didn’t want him near Tony, near any of her friends in Spring, because she could still feel the scar he had given her burning on her stomach. She had tried to hide her disdain, but her years as Natasha had made her soft and see through.

“Why don’t you like him?” Pepper had asked, late at night after she had wiped away Natasha’s tears for Autumn.

“I think I know him,” she had said in lieu of a real answer.  

“Is he a threat?” Pepper, ever-practical, had asked, still holding Natasha tight.

Natasha had shaken her head. “No,” she had said finally.

Now, after Rogers’s news, Natasha was kicking herself. The Winter Soldier had hurt her Tosya, and it was all her fault.

I should’ve killed him when I had the chance , she thought, adding it to her pile of regrets. In moments like these, she missed Clint. She didn’t know where he was, where he had taken Phil and Maria, but she missed him and his gentle advice. He knew about the red in her ledger, knew Natalia’s kill count, and yet he firmly believed that she was a good person. She could have used some of his conviction right then.

After Rogers left her rooms, Natasha sunk to her knees in a rare moment of weakness. Her mouth opened, as if to scream, but no sound came out.

Pepper, sweet, lovely Pepper held her tight as she fell apart.

“It’s my fault,” she whispered. “ I said he wasn’t a threat. I should’ve known you can’t escape HYDRA. I should’ve known .”

“Hush, darling,” Pepper soothed, arms just shy of too tight. “Even Steve didn’t know, and he’s Barnes’s best friend. I don’t blame you and Tony doesn’t blame you. It isn’t your fault.”

Natasha wiped her face free of tears, building herself back up. Pepper let go, sensing that the moment was over.

“I’m going to get Tony back,” she swore. “And if Barnes hurt him in any way, I’m going to kill him, Winter Soldier be damned.”

Chapter Text

“If you ask me for orders one more time ,” Tony growled, shifting in his saddle. “I will…” he trailed off. He couldn’t do anything, really; he wouldn't leave Bucky behind or injure him. He couldn't even threaten it, not when the damn Winter Soldier might take him seriously. “Just don’t do it again, okay?”

“Order accepted,” Bucky said without inflection.

“Goddamnit!” Tony cursed loudly, startling Friday, who was already on edge from everything that had happened. She reared up, throwing him out of his seat and onto the ground. He collided with the dirt with a wet snap, landing wrong on his wrist.

Tony gritted his teeth to keep from shouting in pain. In an instant, though, Bucky was at his side. Tony hadn’t even seen him move.

“Do you require maintenance?” he asked, almost gently. If Tony tried, he could pretend it was actually Bucky talking to him, like back in the workshop, comforting him with soft and sweet words. He didn’t want to face the reality; it wasn’t Bucky, it was HYDRA’s soldier.

“I think I broke my wrist,” Tony admitted, letting out a pained breath. Friday nosed his hair in apology, but Tony couldn’t relax into the soothing touch. “You don’t happen to know how to splint bones, do you?” He had fallen on his right wrist and splinting it would be hell with only his (comparatively) clumsy left hand.

The soldier shook his head. “The Asset is not required to have medical knowledge,” he said, a weird undertone to his voice.

“But you do?” Tony guessed. Bucky flinched but didn’t deny it. “Hey, hey,” Tony soothed. “I won’t hurt you. It’s good that you know. It means you can help me.” With a lot of effort, he lifted his aching wrist and, telegraphing his movements, held it out to Bucky. With his other arm, he reached into Friday’s saddlebags, luckily still on her, and brought out a splint and some tape. Bucky looked wary, but he took them from Tony’s hand and probed Tony’s broken wrist.

Tony bit back a hiss, trying to keep his posture loose. He didn’t want Bucky to feel threatened or spooked. Without realizing it, he had mimicked Rhodey’s usual post-panic attack demeanor.

Missing Rhodey hit him like a ton of bricks. He still couldn’t believe that his best friend was… Tony clung onto the thin, feeble hope that Hammer was wrong, that he hadn’t checked for a pulse or seen if someone saved his friend after they left. The alternative was too horrible to consider. Still, his mind snagged on Bucky’s cold reporting, Rhodey’s name so impersonal on his tongue, just another statistic, another victim of HYDRA.

Tony shoved those thoughts away as pain radiated up his arm. Bucky was splinting it with clumsy fingers, like he’d never done it before. Tony realized that while Bucky probably had, the soldier hadn’t.

“Good job,” he said, looking at his wrist. He wasn’t lying; it was well done, the splint, but it needed to be a little tighter. He said as much, and Bucky lowered his head like he was waiting for punishment. “Thank you.”

“Are you operational?” Bucky asked, brushing off the praise and thanks with his gruff voice as soon as it was clear that Tony wasn’t going to attack him.

Tony tested his wrist; it barely ranked on his pain scale now that it was set. “Yeah,” he said, standing and brushing himself off. “We need to get back to Spring as fast as we can.” Tony hopped onto Friday’s back with difficulty, his bum wrist hindering his ability to grip the reins. He made it, though, looking remarkably undignified as he did.

“Mission parameters accepted,” Bucky said, swinging gracefully onto his horse.

“ Goddamnit !”

---

Rhodey woke up slowly, a pounding pain in his head. “Fuck,” he groaned, trying to crack open his eyes with limited success. The bright lights were a clear indication that he was in the infirmary, but he couldn't think of why. “What happened to me?”

He was expecting Tony’s voice, like always. Whenever one of them ended up in the infirmary, the other was always waiting. He wasn’t expecting Bruce’s voice instead of his best friend’s. “You took on the Winter Soldier by yourself,” Bruce said neutrally, a hint of anger coloring his tone. “Because you’re an idiot.”

Rhodey couldn’t even bring himself to be afraid of Bruce’s anger (the man had a notoriously monstrous temper, if he got riled up enough. Rhodey had never seen it, but he’d heard stories from other knights) as memories came rushing back. Tony was missing, Barnes was something , and- “Hammer!” he gasped. “Did he get away?”

Bruce fiddled nervously with his glasses. “Yes,” he said finally, not meeting Rhodey’s eyes.

“And?” Rhodey pressed, sensing that wasn’t the end of it.

“He took Barnes, presumably to wherever Tony is,” Bruce finished. Upon closer inspection, Bruce looked exhausted, the rings around his eyes almost as dark as Tony’s. “Barnes took out most of the palace guard. Nonlethally, thank goodness for small miracles.”

“Shit,” Rhodey cursed, trying to sit up. His head was swimming and he didn’t even make it all the way up before strong hands were pushing him back down. It didn’t deter him as he fought to get out of the bed. “Stop,” he protested. “I have to… I have to get to Tony.”

“You’re of no use to him like this,” Bruce said sharply. “Rest.” His voice got gentler. “People are out looking for him now. Natasha left this morning.”

“That’s not enough,” he protested, but he let Bruce push him all the way back down. His headache was peaking, a stabbing pain behind his eyes. “I should be there. I need to find him, Bruce, you don’t understand.” Rhodey knew he wasn’t exactly coherent, mouth struggling to form the right words.

“And you will,” the doctor touched the back of his hand lightly, as much of a gesture of comfort as he showed anyone but Tony. “As soon as you can stand, I bet.”

“I should be there,” Rhodey repeated, eyes closing without his permission. “I should…”

“We’ll find him,” Bruce promised. He sounded like he was reassuring himself more than Rhodey. Rhodey had forgotten how close Tony and the doctor were, and guilt stabbed him in the chest. “He’ll be okay.”

“He’d better be,” Rhodey swore darkly as he drifted off. “Or I’ll kill that asshole myself.”

Chapter Text

Steve was pacing his room, back and forth, back and forth. His shield swung from one hand, the one not stained by ash.

“Steve?” Pepper rapped on the doorway. “Can I come in?”

Steve turned to look at her. She looked perfectly put together at first glance, but the skin around her nails was bleeding and her eyes were filled with tears. “Yeah,” he said finally, trying to crush some of the resentment from before. “What’s up?”

“I’m an idiot and an asshole,” she said bluntly. “Earlier, I… I wasn’t thinking of how it must feel to hear that, especially from your allies. I could say that I’m terrified out of my damn mind that this is going to be the time I lose Tony for good, but that doesn’t make it better for you and it doesn’t excuse my utter lack of tact.” Pepper wiped the few tears that had fallen on her cheeks before meeting his eyes. “I’m sorry, truly.”

“I…” Steve was stunned. He hadn’t been expecting an apology, or really, anything at all. “I understand,” he said finally. It cooled the flames of anger, but they still smoldered in his chest.

Pepper slumped like someone cut her strings. “Natasha went out again this morning,” she offered. “We heard reports of two lone riders at our borders. I… I just don’t know what I’m going to do if this is another false lead.”

“How many of those have there been?” Steve was struck by the hollowness of her voice. She sounded hopeless.

“Seventeen,” whispered Pepper. She looked smaller than he’d ever seen. “And every single one has been utter bullshit.”

Steve was hit with a pang of sympathy for the woman. He knew intimately the feeling of false hope. It had been a common theme during the months Bucky was missing. It put her earlier words in a different light; god only knew how terrible and snappish he’d been to everyone when it was Bucky in danger. He’d alienated almost everyone in his single-minded determination to get his friend back. Pepper was, despite everything, trying to repair bridges even though she looked burned out. Steve had the strange thought that he should introduce her to Peggy for real. The two women would definitely get along.

“I’m sorry,” he said lamely, trying and failing to think of something reassuring to say.

Pepper laughed wetly. “I came here to apologize to you , now you’re comforting me,” she scrubbed a hand across her face. “That’s not fair to you, I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you,” said Steve. He found that he meant it, too. Seeing Pepper so vulnerable, it was hard not to. The anger was still there, but it had been tempered with understanding.

She blew out a breath. “Come to the war room?” Pepper asked, visibly rebuilding her walls. “King Howard-” the name was said with no small amount of disdain. “-is planning his next steps. An attack like this can’t go unanswered for long. You’ve fought HYDRA before, you’re the only one who might know what to expect.”

Steve stared at the ash on his fingers. He brushed it clean and dropped his shield. “Sure,” he said finally. “Let’s go.”

---

Natasha was beginning to lose hope. She’d never admit it, especially not to Pepper or Rhodes, but she was a pragmatist at heart. People couldn’t escape HYDRA, not even Tony. Hell, even she wasn’t free, and it had been years since her… defection . Her scars twinged in memory as she urged her horse into a faster gallop.

Pepper had given her a report of someone spotting two figures at the border of Spring and Summer. They were both on horseback, and one of the riders had a brilliantly red horse. Pepper was hoping it was Friday, Tony’s mare, so she had sent Natasha to find out. The hope was suffocating. Natasha wished she shared it.

She was coming up fast on the border line, the slimy magic of Summer making her shudder. Natasha drew one of her knives, just in case. It wouldn’t have been the first time that someone used a false sighting to stage an ambush. They would be disappointed, though, if they thought they could take down the Black Widow.

A light whoosh was her only clue to duck. A knife flew past her, nicking her ear before falling into the tree line. Natasha hurled hers right back, hoping to hear some indication that she hit her target. She threw herself off of her horse, ducking behind a boulder for cover.

“Fuck,” she hissed, eyes scanning for her attacker. One of her hands was at her ear, trying to staunch the blood from the shallow wound.

“Wait!” a voice screamed, right as another knife embedded itself mere inches from her face, cracking the stone with its force. The adrenaline made it hard to place it, but it sounded familiar. “Don’t kill another one of my friends!” A soft noise of apology. “That wasn’t fair. Sorry.”

“Tony?” she called, heart threatening to beat out of her chest. “Tony, is that you?”

A figure ran at her, picking up speed as it drew closer. She recognized it as Tony, if a little worse for wear. One of his hands was splinted and he was running with a clear limp. He was cut and bruised, but the look in his eyes was the worst. He looked emptied out, scraped raw and tossed aside. There was a darkness dogging his emotions, visible even through the clear relief at being found. Natasha didn’t move, just let Tony barrel into her and catch her in a tight hug. She blinked tears out of her eyes as Tony’s reassuring weight settled against her, clutching him with desperate hands.

“I thought you were dead ,” she said harshly, voice wet and hoarse. “Don’t ever do that again, Antoshka , or I will murder you.”

“Sounds counterproductive, Nat,” his voice was muffled in her shirt, but he made no move to pull away. “I missed you, too.” Behind him, the Winter Soldier stood, eyes wary. Tony huffed, clearly aware of their spectator. “Natasha, meet the Winter Soldier. He’s currently not murderous, but I’m hiding behind you if that changes.”

“Natalia Romanova, designation Black Widow, outstanding mission to kill,” the soldier rattled off. In a heartbeat, Natasha had Tony behind her and a blade in each hand.

“Try,” she growled. “You won’t win again, I assure you.”

“Nope!” Tony announced, plucking a knife from her hand and striding over to the soldier, every inch a prince in his easy confidence that neither one of them would stab him, if only out of irritation. “No killing each other. I technically outrank both of you right now, so my word is law.”

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Natasha had to stifle a laugh at Tony’s sheer Tony-ness. As a show of faith, she put her other knife away first, but her glare was as deadly as any blade.

Tony turned to the soldier, speaking softly. “Hey,” he soothed. “Do you trust me?”

“I… I don’t… yes?” the soldier looked utterly lost, almost childlike. Natasha couldn’t help but to pity him.

“Then trust that I won’t let you get hurt,” Tony said, touching the soldier’s shoulder lightly. “I promise.”

Natasha had the feeling that the scene was something personal, something not for her. She turned away to give them the illusion of privacy, trusting Tony to watch her back.

She really hoped that Tony knew what he was doing. The man had the tendency to play with fire, always darting away before he could get burned, but the Winter Soldier was more dangerous than his norm. Tony also picked up strays like nobody's business, more of them broken than not. She couldn’t complain; it was how they became friends, after all, but she was worried that he had bit off more than he could chew this time.

Tony’s voice jolted her out of her thoughts. “I think we’re ready to go home,” he said, smiling sheepishly.

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Anything else, your Highness?” she asked sarcastically, relishing in Tony’s familiar look of disgust.

“You’re the worst,” he swore as he climbed onto Friday’s back. The soldier next to him mounted his own horse, watching Natasha with blank eyes. His hands were far from his weapons, resting easily on his reins, but Natasha knew that he was no less deadly for it.

“That’s a mean thing to say to your savior,” she sniffed primly. “Rhodes is going to be so pissed I found you first.”

Tony gasped, a sound like a sob. “ He’s alive ?” he asked desperately.

“Why wouldn’t he be?” Natasha wrinkled her nose in confusion. She cast a glance at the Winter Soldier, who looked the slightest bit guilty. “ Oh . Well, whoever told you so lied to you, Tosya . Rhodes is fine, just took a hit on the head during Hammer’s breakout.” She tried to pitch her voice to sound soothing, but Tony’s crying increased.

“Happy tears,” he managed at last. “And some murderous tears. I’m going to kill Hammer.”

Natasha snorted. “Get in line.”

---

The war room was fraught with the shouts of Howard and Rogers. It was audible even from outside the thick doors. Tony made a mental note to fix that, at some point.

He took a deep breath, stopping outside the doors to gather his nerves. He wanted to go to his rooms, just sleep for years until everything was done, but one look at Bucky’s vacant eyes and the shadows on Natasha’s face had him gathering his strength to keep going. He had gone to his rooms immediately after coming home, cleaning up and changing until he looked like Tony Stark again.

Tony stood alone in the threshold for just a moment before pushing the heavy doors open. He took in the room in seconds; stunned gasps from Rhodey and Pepper, an eye roll from Howard at his dramatics, and something like guilt on Rogers’s face.

He spread his arms wide, looking every bit the prince he was. “Did you miss me?”

Chapter Text

Tony had barely made it back to his room before he was ambushed. It had been a long meeting, convincing Howard not to storm Summer with all of his hot-headed idiocy. Howard was normally coolly competent, but he was a prideful bastard and his kingdom had been successfully attacked by Justin Hammer of all people. He had done it, of course he had, with Rhodey and Pepper and even Rogers at his back. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but Tony would take it as long as it got him out of that meeting and into his room to sleep for fifteen years.

He had just managed to flop on his bed and close his eyes when his door was being flung open angrily, banging loudly against the wall. Tony didn’t look up.

“If you’re here to kill me, may I suggest taking a rain check?” he asked politely.

Rhodey’s snort was music to his ears. “I’ll kill you when I damn please, asshole,” he said, sweeping Tony in a tight hug. “I thought you were dead .”

“Well, ditto, so stop complaining,” Tony said lightly, trying to play off like those days weren’t the worst of his life.

Rhodey cursed. “Want to kill Hammer together?”

“Aw, Honey Bear,” Tony curled against Rhodey’s chest, pressing his shaking hands to his friend’s heartbeat, to reassure himself that it was still going. “You know that threats of casual murder are the way to my heart.”

“Are you sure it isn’t already stolen by a certain king?” Rhodey teased, falling effortlessly into familiar banter. “Because let me tell you, he seemed pretty smitten.”

Instead of sniping back, Tony flinched in his arms. “He’s not… It’s not Bucky in there right now,” he said finally. “And I don’t know how or if we can get him back.”

“Shit,” Rhodey breathed. “I’m sorry, Tones.” He didn’t offer platitudes; they knew each other too well for that.

“I don’t know what to do,” Tony whispered, voice fraught with uncertainty. “I want to help, but I don’t know if I can. And I know that everyone’s going to be expecting me to have some sort of genius solution for his hidden away, but I am so out of my depth here. All I want to do is cry, and I have to hold it together because if I break down, it’s bad for fucking morale .” He spat the last bit, disgusted with himself.

Rhodey muttered something that sounded like Howard, you dick into his hair. But his voice was gentle when he said, “Cry all you want, Tones. You know I’ll protect you.”

“I can’t,” Tony sobbed. “I can’t do this. Any of this. I just want it to stop , Rhodey, just for a minute so I can catch my breath.”

“I know,” Rhodey soothed. “I know, Tones. You’re so strong. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Wordlessly, Tony cried, showing a vulnerable side to him that no one, save Rhodey and Pepper, ever got to see. He cried until Rhodey’s shirt was ruined, until his throat was hoarse and his eyes were burning. Then, he mechanically wiped his eyes and pasted on a weak smile.

Stark men are made of iron, he thought, sitting up on his bed.

He heard footsteps in the hall, sharp and pointed in a way that could only belong to one person. Lo and behold, Pepper stepped into his doorway, balanced on the highest heels she owned.

“Hey, Tony,” she greeted. Her voice was low and calm and there was no doubt that she noted the signs of his breakdown. She exchanged a glance with Rhodey behind him, unreadable to Tony.

“Status report?” Tony asked hopefully, looking for some kind of work to distract himself from the hurricane of emotions still raging in him.

Pepper eyed him skeptically, but complied. “The entire Night Guard is down, due to Hammer’s escape. Bruce is swamped, but no one’s critical, so they aren’t at the top of your list. Natasha wants to debrief you as soon as you feel up to it. Someone- who will soon find themselves jobless- let slip that you were captured; understandably, the kingdom is panicking. You will have to make a statement in person, but it can wait for now. Steve Rogers and Peggy Carter definitely want to talk to you, as well, but I’ll head them off until you’re ready.”

Tony clapped his hands loudly, throwing himself into work mode. “What are we waiting for, then? Let’s go.”

(Pepper was kind enough to ignore the red rims of his eyes, the way his voice was shot from sobbing. She and her unflappable demeanor just led him around the castle to work, the way he needed. And if her hands were a little gentler, lingered a little longer as she pulled him around, well, he needed that, too.)

---

“Bucky?” Steve breathed, almost wordless in the relief of seeing his best friend again.

“Who the hell is Bucky?” Bucky replied in the monotone that haunted Steve’s dreams. “I am the Asset.”

Behind him, Peggy muffled a sob. “You’re Bucky,” Steve tried. “Your name is James Buchanan Barnes. You’re my best friend.”

“The Asset has no friends,” but Bucky sounded more unsure than before. “Only handlers. And missions. Are you my mission?”

Steve flinched. His mouth opened and shut, trying in vain to say something , but his mind wouldn’t cooperate.

“We’re not,” Peggy cut in gently, sensing that Steve was on the verge of collapse. “There are no more missions, I promise.”

“Am I being terminated?” Steve wasn’t imagining the flash of fear in Bucky’s flat eyes.

“No,” he said strongly. “Never. You might not be able to remember right now, Buck, but we’re friends. I’d never do that to you.”

“I am not Bucky.”

Before Steve could protest, Peggy laid a calming hand on his shoulder. “Okay,” she said simply. “Would you like to hear about him?”

That was how they brought him back the last time, Steve remembered, telling stories until the Asset receded and Bucky came back. Bucky must have nodded or something, because Peggy was talking again.

“...and then he lit the whole place on fire,” she said, a hint of laughter in her shaky voice. “Almost lit himself up, too.” She turned to him. “Want to take a turn, Steve?”

“Yo- I mean, he’s a punk,” he choked back a sob. “When we were kids, he was always pulling me out of fights, only to turn around and fight the biggest guy he could find himself. Drove me insane. Still does, actually.”

Peggy nudged him. ”Like you’re not the same,” she teased. “I saw you try to spar with Thor when he visited last. He’s like four times your size.”

Bucky watched them almost blankly, but there was a spark of something behind his eyes.

“Y- Bucky once threw me out a window,” Steve offered, smiling at the memory. “Of course, we were being ambushed and it was the only way out, but I could’ve jumped. The little shit decided to throw me, instead.”

“You landed at my feet, if I remember correctly,” Peggy snorted. “Bucky didn’t stop laughing about it for weeks.”

They traded Bucky stories for a while, hoping to spark some kind of memory. Besides that initial flash, though, there was nothing. The yawning cavern inside Steve grew wider as he watched his best friend’s body sit there, replaced with someone else’s mind.

Steve excused himself eventually, rubbing tears from his face and trying to look strong. He had to talk to Prince Anthony. He had to save Bucky.

Chapter Text

“Can we talk?” Steve was standing in the flower field, behind where Prince Anthony was sitting idle. He had been to see Bucky already, had tried and failed to break the programming. It seemed like Stane was right; there was nothing Steve could do except hope, or…

“Sure,” the prince rose gracefully. His face was perfectly composed, with the suggestion of a smile and no sign of fear or anger. If it wasn’t for the slightest red rims of his eyes, Steve would have thought the man unaffected. “I assume it’s about your friend?”

Your friend , not Bucky, like the prince hadn’t been spending hours with Bucky every day before everything happened. Steve could barely stop the sneer before it crossed his face at the prince’s careless dismissal (he wasn’t sure he was successful, but Prince Anthony’s impassive mask gave nothing away).

“Yes, it is about King James,” Steve said, putting a lot of effort into keeping his voice steady. He hadn’t come to yell at the prince, after all (that didn't mean he couldn’t be snide, though).

Prince Anthony plucked a flower, ruthlessly pulling petals. “Ask away,” he said listlessly.

“How do you propose to break the programming?” Steve asked. He tried to hide that he was desperate for an answer, anything better than the letter he had received. He had heard that Prince Anthony was a genius and he needed a genius solution.

“How did you do it last time?” the prince countered.

“We…” Steve shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. It won’t work.”

“How do you know?” he pressed, eyes sharp like knives. Steve was close, close enough to see the rings of exhaustion standing out like bruises on the prince’s tanned skin.

“I just do, okay?” Steve snapped, wringing his hands anxiously.

Prince Anthony cocked his head, finding something on Steve’s face and coming to an understanding. “Whatever he offered you, he won’t follow through,” he said, apropos of nothing. “You think he’ll be honorable? He will take what he wants from you and stab you in the back at the first chance he gets.”

Steve flinched. “I don’t… what?” How did he know?

“You aren’t the first and won’t be the last to fall for his manipulations,” the prince smiled sadly. “He offers a choice; an impossible solution in exchange for something harmless but feels off . You ignore that feeling, because you’re desperate. You follow through. He doesn’t. The second option wasn’t so harmless after all, and all you have is guilt and more problems than you started with.”

“You sound like you speak from experience,” Steve deflected, avoiding how Prince Anthony had just voiced every one of his thoughts.

“Obadiah Stane is my godfather,” said Prince Anthony. “Needless to say, I trusted him once.”

“So what do I do, then?” Steve asked, heart sinking. There was no easy solution, no good answer, and he was terrified as to what the prince would say.

“Accept his offer, of course.”

---

Contrary to popular belief, Tony had some common sense. He used it rarely, but it was there . He was also better at reading people than he was given credit for. He knew guilt when he saw it, and he had seen it easily on Rogers’s face every time he glanced at Tony during that long meeting. He was hiding something; it didn’t take a genius to figure out what.

Or, more to the point, who .

Obie was a snake at the best of times. When he had been at Howard’s right hand, Tony had ignored it. Now that he was their enemy, Tony cursed every bit of the man’s scheming mind.

Going after Rogers was a smart move, though. He had no reason to trust Tony, no reason to reach out. He should have taken the deal, cured Bucky, and ran. Of course, then Tony would be dead or wishing he was, so he couldn’t pretend he wasn’t grateful. Tony could admire that kind of honor.

Rogers had come to him, if indirectly, to tell him about the offer. Tony was tired; he had just finished all of his tasks and wanted to lay in the flowers and feel peace for a moment. But he stood when Rogers came, flicked his brain back on and planned.

“Accept his offer, of course,” Tony declared when Rogers told him.

Rogers gaped at him. “He wants you ,” he admitted finally.

Tony buried the flash of hurt, of betrayal that he thought himself long since desensitized to. “I figured,” he twisted his lips into something that could be generously called a smile. “Who wouldn’t, really?”

“Why accept, then?” Rogers sounded genuinely curious, a contrast from his earlier guilt-ridden tones.

“Because we have no other options,” Tony said with a sigh, fingers tapping the casing of his arc reactor in a frantic pattern. “I can’t cure Bu- your friend.” The distance was intentional; thinking of Bucky hurt . The only way around it was to pretend like it didn’t bother him, but he couldn’t do that with Bucky’s name on his lips. “But maybe HYDRA knows how. If Ob- Stane gets me, he isn’t going to risk bringing me back to the Summer Palace, not again. If I had to guess, he’d take me to where they have a chair, for programming .” Tony shivered in disgust and fear. “If anyone knows what to do to reverse the process, it’s someone there. If nothing else, any information they have could help me come up with something to try and fix this.”

“We would follow you,” Rogers said, realization dawning on his face. “You’d be playing bait. Isn’t that dangerous?”

“I’m far from helpless,” Tony scoffed. “But yeah, I’d be bait. It’s not a bad plan, you have to admit.”

“There’s so much potential for it to go wrong,” argued Rogers, but it wasn’t an outright rejection. “What if Stane just kills you on the spot? What if they get you in a chair before we get to you?”

Tony ran a hand through his hair. “He wouldn’t kill me,” he said firmly. Then, quieter, “I’m too valuable an asset for him to risk damaging.”

“Why risk this?” Rogers asked, eyes uncomfortably piercing. “Why risk your life- your mind - for Bucky? You barely know him. None of us from Winter have really endeared ourselves to you, so why?”

“He got caught in the crossfire of my battles,” Tony answered. Rogers deserved honestly, after everything. It didn’t make confessing any easier, though. “Stane, Hammer, the Vankos, they’re all demons I’ve created, one way or another. And they were mine to fight. No one else but me should have gotten hurt and I need to fix what I’ve broken because of them. None of this would have happened if it weren’t for me, Rogers. My life is a small price to pay for my mistakes, at the end of the day.”

Rogers’s entire face softened. “Prince Anthony…” he trailed off.

“Call me Tony,” Tony said, trying to combat some of the awkwardness after his confession. “I hate my title, if I’m being honest.”

“Tony,” Rogers took a breath. “I’m not proud enough to turn down your help. But this isn’t your fault. HYDRA would have caught up to us, whether it was here or in Winter. Here, at least, we have allies.”

“Allies,” Tony repeated, turning the word over in his mind. “I like the sound of that Better than going at it alone, I guess..”

“Your plan is crazy,” Rogers reminded him. “But I’ll have your back, if that’s what you want to do.”

Tony’s lips quirked in a small smile. “Thanks, Rogers,” he said finally.

“Steve,” said the other man. “If I have to call you by your name, you have to call me by mine.”

“Fine,” Tony huffed good-naturedly. He sat back down among the flowers, closing his eyes and letting them calm his mind and chase away his fear. “Now, go explain this to Rhodey for me, will you? If I tell him, he’s going to stab me. I don’t want to get murdered before we can even start.”

Chapter Text

The familiar embrace of his armor was something Tony needed after all the stress of the past week. It wasn’t the healthiest way to cope, flying as high as he could until he could breathe again, alone in the clouds, but it was all he knew how to do.

The clouds didn’t care if he raged at the unfairness of the world. The clouds didn’t sneer if he had to close his eyes and scream for a while. They were just clouds, particles of dust and water, completely at the whims of the wind.

Tony stared at the castle below him. From as high up as he was, he couldn’t see any of the troubles plaguing it. He couldn’t see Rhodey and Pepper’s tears, or Howard’s anger, or Steve’s fear. He couldn’t see Bucky, either.

And, god, Bucky . Tony had no plan to assuage the guilt churning in his gut. It was his fault that Bucky was hurt; he was the target, not the king. It was his fault that the light in Bucky’s eyes had been snuffed out.

Tony choked on a sob. He had gone to see Bucky, who was being guarded at all times like a criminal on Howard’s orders. The guards had parted easily, though, when Tony had appeared.

“Handler?” Bucky had asked hopefully. “Do you have my mission?”

It had taken all of Tony’s strength not to flinch, but he couldn’t keep the anguish out of his voice. “No handlers,” he had promised. “No missions.”

He had run out soon after that, had taken off immediately into the sky, unable to face the emptiness that he caused. Steve had said it wasn’t his fault, but Tony could read the lines on the other man’s face, could see the blame hidden behind scared eyes. The clouds, at least, couldn’t look at him like that.

Their only hope was Tony’s crazy plan. It was a suicide mission, really. There was no guarantee Obie would take Tony to a chair rather than just kill him outright for all the trouble he had caused. Tony talked a big game with Steve, telling him that he was too valuable, but he didn’t know. Obie was ruthless.

But Tony also knew it was their only chance to save Bucky. And he wasn’t going to sit back and do nothing.

Tony let himself hurtle towards the ground at increasingly dangerous speeds, relishing in the way his stomach swooped and his heart sped up. He felt alive when he was falling. All too soon, though, he engaged the repulsors to catch himself.

He landed lightly in one of the thousand gardens around the palace, disturbing the flowers. If he had the time right- and he knew he did- then Steve would be sending his response to Obie, setting up a meeting. Natasha, despite disapproving of their plan, was helping him.

Tony flinched when he heard footsteps behind him, whirling around with his palms raised. Maria just arched an eyebrow at him, looking elegant in her long gown untouched by the mud.

“Is that any way to greet your mother, bambino ?” she teased.

Tony dropped his hands. “Sorry, mamma ,” he said. “Habit.”

Maria’s eyes grew sadder. “I know,” she said softly, hands twitching at her sides. “I’ve heard what you’re planning.”

“You can’t stop me,” Tony said defensively. “I have to.”

“I know,” Maria repeated. “I’m not going to stop you. I just… I just wish you didn’t have to do this.”

“ Mammina …”

“You’re my son, tesoro ,” Maria said wetly. Her eyes were shiny with unshed tears. “I’m always going to want you out of danger. And I’ve failed you. I should’ve been protecting you.”

Tony felt helpless. He never had been good with people, and his mother’s sadness left him lost. “I…” he hugged his mother tight. “You haven’t failed.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I wish I could take away your hurt.”

Maria felt impossibly old to Tony at that moment. All his life, she had been an energetic presence, if distant. She had been flitting between courts with the grace of a butterfly for so long that Tony wasn’t sure he had ever seen her still. But in his arms, she felt slight, like a gust of wind could take her away.

“I wish you wouldn’t go,” she admitted, pulling away.

“I have to,” Tony reminded her.

“Why can’t you just be selfish?” Maria pleaded, knowing she was fighting a losing battle.

Tony smiled, soft and sad. “You taught me not to be,” he reminded her, remembering snippets from his childhood spent holding her hand. “Don’t worry, mamma . I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Oh, darling boy,” Maria stroked his face lightly. “I’ll always worry about you. I’m your mother.”

---

“You’re being too nice,” Natasha criticized, looking over Steve’s shoulder at his letter. “He isn’t going to believe that this isn’t a trap when you write like that.”

“But Natasha, this is a trap,” Steve scowled, covering his letter defensively. “Don’t you have better things to do that criticize my writing?”

“Not when it concerns my friend’s life,” she shot back. “If you get this wrong, if you tip Stane off, I don’t doubt that he’ll kill Tony to save his own skin.”

Steve wordlessly handed over the draft of the letter.

Tony was already risking enough without Steve messing it up for him. If Natasha could lessen that risk, well, Steve wasn’t going to stand in her way (also, she was cleaning her nails with a knife that made him very nervous and she had to put it down to pick up the paper).

“You say please and thank you way too much to a man who is planning on killing Tony,” she said finally.

“I have manners!” Steve replied hotly. Natasha raised an eyebrow. “But I admit that this might not be the place for them.”

“Get rid of all this,” she advised, viciously crossing out phrase after phrase. “And this.”

Steve took the paper back from her. “You took out everything but my name,” he pointed out.

She rolled her eyes. “No, I took out all of your meaningless pleasantries. I kept the important bit.”

“Stane,” Steve read out. “I accept. Signed, Captain Rogers.”

Natasha pursed her lips. “Take out the last sentence. He’ll know who it’s from.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

Steve copied the single sentence onto a fresh sheet of paper, anxiety churning in his gut. They were risking so much on a hope that Stane would act a certain way. They had no proof that it would work, their plan, just desperation.

Steve hoped it would be enough.

Silently, he handed over the letter to Natasha, who ignited it with a flare of red magic.

"What do we do now?" he asked.

“Now,” she said, voice even. “Now, we wait.”

Chapter Text

Obadiah knew when he saw the letter that Rogers had spoken to someone about his offer. He wasn’t stupid; Winter didn't have magic, not anymore. The letter appeared in a flare of blood red. If he had to guess, Rogers had recruited the Black Widow to his side. Everyone knew the Black Widow was only out for herself; she must have seen something advantageous in ridding the Spring Kingdom of their heir. He couldn’t complain, though, if it worked.

He wasn’t bartering from a disadvantage. He hadn’t lied to Rogers; he knew the words to reset the Soldier, had them squirreled away in a journal. He just wasn’t planning on sharing them. The Winter Soldier was too valuable to HYDRA to simply give up.

Rogers was a damn idiot if he actually thought Obadiah would follow through.

Obadiah was just glad that Rogers hadn’t talked to Tony; Tony would’ve seen right through him. The boy always had been too smart for his own good. When he had been Howard’s advisor, it was Tony who had found him out and foiled his plans.

“Uncle Obie?” Tony asked, voice hard but with a slight waver. “Is it true?”

Obadiah put aside his drink. “Is what true, dear boy?” he pasted a smile on his face, something that had fooled the royal family for years.

“You paid the Ten Rings to have me killed,” Tony said. “You’ve been dealing under the table for years. You’re going to kill Howard and take over.”

“Oh, Tony,” he said sadly. “Do you ever wish you were a little dumber?”

Tony didn’t flinch; Howard had trained the boy well. “Is it true?”

“Yes,” he said with a sigh. “The only hitch in my plan was you, Tony. I made a mistake in not dealing with you personally. Don’t worry, I won’t do it again.”

Tony’s hands glowed gold and his reactor flared brighter. “You can’t beat me,” he said softly. “Don’t make me do this.”

Tony had been right about one thing, at least; Obadiah wasn’t as powerful of a magic user as Tony was. He couldn’t win in a straight fight. But he didn’t ever play fair if he was playing to win.

Obadiah reached into his pocket and took out a device.The sound was paralyzing- literally. Tony fell to the ground, his shields too sluggish to beat the soundwaves. Obadiah strode forward calmly.

“Neat invention, right?” he said, ever supportive. He ran a hand through Tony’s hair, a mockery of comfort. “It’s too bad that Howard deemed it useless, like the rest of your scraps. I’m the only one who saw the value in it, in you , you know that?

“You know, when I ordered that hit on you, I was worried I was killing the golden goose,” he said conspiratorially, like it was all a big joke. Tony’s eyes were frantic, even though his body was motionless. “Turns out, you had one last golden egg for me.” He tapped the reactor. “I’ll give your mother your regards when I kill her with it.”

Tony’s eyes promised vengeance. Obadiah planned to be long gone before he could exact it, even though he doubted the prince would live very long. With one swift movement, he twisted the reactor out of his godson’s chest. It was bigger than he expected, but he could feel the power coursing through it. It would do nicely to kill a king.

Obadiah didn’t look back at the fallen prince as he went to assassinate the rest of the royal family.

The walk to the throne room was anticlimactic at best. None of the guards stopped him, too accustomed to his presence. He truly had been playing the long game with his decades as Howard’s right hand. He had the implicit trust of everyone in the castle, minus some of Tony’s personal guards. They’d be the first to go, after the king and queen were dealt with.

A guard opened the grand doors and Obadiah marched into the nearly empty hall.

“King Howard,” he greeted with his head bowed. “Queen Maria.”

“To what do we owe this visit?” Maria asked formally. She looked regal on her throne of golden flowers. Obadiah was looking forward to melting it down.

“Has the border issue escalated?” Howard pressed. His throne was the one Obadiah coveted.

Obadiah shook his head. “Worse,” he said gravely. “Prince Anthony has perished.” He held up the reactor as evidence.

“No…” Maria breathed. She held affection for her son, Obadiah knew. Howard remained stone-faced.

“It’s time for you to join him.”

Howard’s composure faltered. “What?” he questioned, confusion written across his face.

“Goodbye, your Majesties,” said Obadiah, funneling his power through the reactor. A wave of blue spilled forth. Only their shields protected the king and queen, and just barely.

“Stop this madness!” Howard yelled.

Obadiah just laughed and sent another pulse of power. Maria fell. Her magic was never strong enough to hold against his own. Howard’s face was an echo of his dying son’s; hatred and anger carved lines on his skin.

“You’ll pay for your treachery,” he promised, attacking Obadiah with green blades.

Obadiah parried easily, the reactor a wonderful conduit for his own power. He was so lose to the throne, he could almost taste it.

The battle was bitter and painful. Howard fought with surgical precision, but he was weakening. He faltered, and Obadiah took the opening. Howard fell, Obadiah looming above him for the killing blow.

“You’re weak,” he taunted. “You always have been. I’ve been propping up your kingdom for thirty years. Now, I’m taking it.”

“No, you’re not,” a new voice rang out. Obadiah turned with a growl to see Tony in full armor, shining golden with his own power. There was a new reactor in his chest, burning blue. “Stand down, Stane.”

“No more Uncle Obie ?” asked Obadiah, launching into a furious attack. Tony blocked him easily.

“You tried to kill my mother,” Tony said. “You tried to kill my father. You tried to kill me. So, yeah, no more Uncle Obie .”

“I’ll still succeed,” he goaded, drunk on power. “I’ll make sure they bury you all together. Royal family perishes in a tragic accident; sounds reasonable, right?”

Tony swiped away one of his blasts, countering it with one of his own. “You won’t win,” he said confidently.

“And why is that?” Obadiah figured he could humor the boy in his final moments.

“You forgot to watch your back.”

A flare of green engulfed his vision before everything went dark.

Obadiah had woken up in the dungeons, sharing a squalid cell with a HYDRA agent. Before his execution, he had escaped on the other man’s direction, had run all the way to Summer and pledged his loyalty to Alexander Pierce.

He had learned, had gotten smarter in his exile. His plan wouldn't fall through this time, not if he took out the broken cog in the machine before he started. Tony had to go, one way or another. The letter, Rogers, they were a means to an end. His lies had served him well enough if Rogers believed them. He had lied to Pierce, too; capturing Tony hadn’t worked out the first time, there was no way he was risking it again. A living Tony Stark was too dangerous to keep, not when his plans were precarious enough as it was. No, the prince had to die.

It was a shame, really. He had always liked Tony. But he wasn’t going to fail again.

Chapter Text

The Asset didn’t understand why the blond man ( Designation: Captain Steven Rogers ) was wearing a path in the dusty stone. Honestly, the Asset didn’t know why he was there watching. He owed Rogers nothing (and the Asset had seen the man’s disappointment when he revealed that he was not Bucky.)

He watched, eyes tracking the man just in case he decided to attack. Initial observations told the Asset that if it came down to a fight, he would be able to take down the man without issue. But something in the deep corners of his brain rebelled against the idea of fighting him, so the Asset just watched and waited.

Rogers was on edge; that much was clear. He had one hand clutching his shield (the Asset had no definitive plan to disarm him, if need be. The shield was a formidable weapon, especially when wielded by the Captain. If the Asset could feel nervous, he would) and the other was running through his hair. The Asset almost flinched every time his hand came up.

There was a brunette woman with the man, too ( Designation: Lady Margaret Carter ). She looked just as dangerous as the blond. The Asset could see lean muscles in her arms and the flash of no less than four knives strapped to her body. There was intelligence in her eyes. She would have made a wonderful Black Widow, if the program hadn’t been shut down after Natalia’s defection. The Asset watched with detached interest as she tried to comfort the blond; the information could be useful to his handlers, if nothing else.

“It’s going to work,” Carter swore, catching one of the blond’s hands in her own. She cast a look at the Asset, that he would’ve missed if his eyes weren’t tracking both of their motions.

“I know,” Rogers said softly. “Because I don’t know what I’m going to do if it doesn’t.”

Carter adjusted Rogers’s gear. “I don’t understand why you don’t want me to come with you,” she said, with no small amount of anger.

“Pegs, I can’t lose you too,” Rogers whispered. The Asset, against his better judgement, looked away (he kept them in his peripheral, though; if they snuck up on him, he didn’t doubt that they could subdue him together, especially with the odd tightness in his chest that begged him not to hurt them). It was a malfunction, to want to give them their space. He’d report it to his handlers, if he saw the again. The brunet man ( Designation: Prince Anthony Stark ) had told him there were no more handlers, no more missions, but the Asset knew better than to trust the honeyed words of anyone. There was no escaping HYDRA.

“I can take care of myself,” the woman said. As upset as she clearly was, she didn’t let go of the man’s hand. “I don’t need your protection, Steve. I’m more than capable.”

“I know,” Rogers assured her. “You could probably kill me.”

Carter snorted out a laugh. “I definitely could,” she countred. “And you know it.”

“Pegs…”

“I’m staying,” she said finally. “But only because someone needs to protect Bucky. If HYDRA hits here while you’re away…”

Rogers smiled sadly. “You’ll keep him safe. I trust you.”

“If you don’t come back to me, I’ll hunt you down and kill you myself,” Carter glared at him for a moment before kissing him soundly. The Asset had the strange urge to clear his throat, to smirk or clap or something , but those were the kinds of things that got him punished.

So the Asset said nothing as Carter swept away from a stunned Rogers, just followed silently in her shadow.

---

“If I were Stane, I would take the opening to attack now,” Natasha said quietly, staring at Pepper. The other woman was helping her get ready for her mission, unflappable even as her delicate fingers strapped knives to Natasha’s body. “Spring is more vulnerable than ever.”

“We’ll be fine,” Pepper reassured her. “Besides, you personally trained our guards. Made most of them cry, if I remember correctly. No one can get past them.”

Natasha wanted to smile, but her instincts were nagging at her. “Something feels off, Pep.”

“Of course it does, Nat,” said Pepper with a small frown. “Everything feels off. But you can’t not do this.”

“You tried to talk him out of it?” Natasha smirked slightly, familiar with Tony’s stubbornness, though, not as much as Pepper was.

Pepper sighed. “He’s an idiot.”

“He’s a good man.”

“Not mutually exclusive.”

Natasha watched Pepper slide her last blade into its sheath. “Stay safe,” she ordered, holding Pepper’s hand tightly. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

“I’ll be fine,” repeated Pepper. “Nothing bad is going to happen here. We still have the king and all his guards. No one would dare.”

It almost sounded like Pepper was trying to convince herself. Natasha couldn’t dispel her unease, but she shoved it aside, for Pepper’s sake. “I have to go,” she said regretfully.

“Promise me you’ll be okay,” Pepper blurted out before she could stop herself. She never asked for promises, not when she knew Natasha couldn’t give them, in the same way she knew Natasha hated goodbyes and declarations of love and anything that reminded her that her life tended to be dogged by death at every turn. “I-”

“I promise,” Natasha whispered, holding Pepper close. She was worth the reminder. “I promise.”

---

“Your plan is idiotic,” Howard said to his son, who was putting on his armor piece by piece. “I’m ashamed of you for coming up with it.”

Anthony rolled his eyes. “I’m well aware,” he said. There was an undercurrent of defensiveness in his airy tone. “Anything else, Howard? I’m kind of busy right now, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“I can’t give you guards,” Howard said. “I can’t leave my kingdom undefended so you can go on a hopeless quest for vengeance.”

“Understood.”

“You think you’re leading him into a trap, but he’s spinning you around his little finger,” said Howard. He wasn’t sure why he was still there, talking to a son who clearly didn’t care for his advice. “What happens when he beats you and your little friends?”

“You kill me,” Anthony said evenly. If Howard were less used to death, he would have flinched. But he had been a soldier, before ascending to the throne, and his son- despite his utter disregard for authority- was the same (his son hadn’t been anything but a soldier in a long time). Death was an inevitable result, as they both knew well. “If Stane manages to beat us, you kill me.”

“Why?”

“Because otherwise, I’ll kill you,” Anthony laughed without mirth. “I know what the Winter Soldier is capable of. I know what I’d be capable of if Stane gets his way.”

“You’re no Winter Soldier,” Howard said with a raised eyebrow.

“No, I’m not,” Anthony’s smile was all teeth as he agreed. “But neither are you, father . I don’t need to be the Winter Soldier to take you out.”

Howard did flinch that time. “You wouldn’t.”

“I doubt I’d have a choice.”

“Could you?”

“Without question.”

Howard looked at his son, really looked, for the first time in what felt like forever. He didn’t see the soft boy he used to, the one who would braid flowers into his hair and leave bouquets for Maria, who would take the time to talk to each and every guard, no matter how upset he was, the one who smiled and loved with his whole heart. The stirrings of pride resonated in him; Stark men were made of iron, not softness. Anthony would be fine, but if he wasn’t…

“I will,” Howard promised, soldier to soldier. He didn’t see his soft (weak) son anymore; he saw Anthony Stark, heir to the throne of Spring and the Golden Avenger. He smiled to himself as he left.

Stark men were made of iron, and Anthony was no longer the exception.

Chapter Text

“I’m really fucking sick of getting kidnapped,” Tony muttered, testing the bonds on his wrists. “This is absolute bullshit. Next time, Rhodey can be the damsel in distress.”

Their plan, so far, had gone without a hitch. The trek to the meeting place was short, especially on horseback. Natasha had brought up the rear while Steve led Tony forward, playing up their act in case Obie had spies posted along the route. Rhodey had wanted to come but Tony had ordered him to stay behind. Obie would no doubt see through them if Rhodey, Tony’s best friend, was amenable to handing him over to the enemy. Plus, Tony selfishly wanted Rhodey in the protection the castle afforded. Better safe than sorry, after all, on all counts.

“You ready?” Tony whispered to Steve. “Remember, this has to be convincing.”

In the moonlight, Steve looked paler than usual. “I’m ready,” he said, trying to make his voice sound strong.

Tony took a deep breath, putting on the mask of an arrogant prince. His reactor hummed in his chest, reminding him that he wasn’t powerless. “Why are we here, Rogers?” he asked loudly, carelessly walking his horse into the clearing. “There’s nothing to see, like I told you.”

“Your Highness,” Steve gritted out. “I was reliably informed that my information would be meeting us here. He has information on the Summer Kingdom, like I said.”

“If you’re wrong…” Tony fingered the edge of his sword. “If you dragged me out here for nothing? Well…”

Steve visibly bit back on something rude. “Understood, Your Highness.”

Tony caught sight of movement in the trees, something that was definitely not a redheaded spy with a thing for knives. He didn’t tense, but he signaled towards it with his eyes. Steve swallowed nervously; really, the man was not made for subterfuge.

“Where is he, anyway?” Tony said impatiently, shifting from foot to foot. He was still tracking the movement out of the corner of his eye as it drew closer. Deliberately, he turned his back to it, crossing to the other edge of the clearing.

One of Natasha’s knives came out of nowhere, thudding against his knee joint and sending him to the ground. Tony raised a repulsor, but it was too late.

“I’m sorry about this, Your Highness,” Steve said, drawing close and raising his shield. “But Bucky’s my friend.”

Tony didn’t have a chance to croak out a scathing rebuttal before the shield came crashing down and the world went dark.

Tony assumed the handoff went as planned; after all, he was successfully kidnapped. Now, he just had to wait for Natasha and Steve to find him.

First, though, he had to find out whatever it was Obie knew about reversing the triggers.

As if thinking of the man summoned him, Obie walked into the room, smiling down at Tony.

“Hello, Anthony,” he greeted. “Let’s try this again, shall we?”

“Or, just a suggestion, we could not ,” Tony snarked. The best way to get information from Obie was to keep him talking. The man was arrogant and thought he was smarter than he was, and always ended up saying too much.

“I’m not wasting my time again,” Obie’s face darkened. “No games, no tricks. Just you and the Chair.”

“Were they games last time?” Tony taunted. “I thought you were just incompetent.”

Obie’s backhand was totally not worth it, but Tony still smiled a bloody smile. “Shut up,” his godfather hissed.

“Ooh, touchy subject?” Tony made a sympathetic face. “Let me guess, your puppetmaster wasn’t happy with you?”

“I am no one’s puppet,” Obie spat, breathing hard. “ I am in charge. Pierce is nothing but a figurehead !”

It wasn’t the information Tony wanted, but he filed it away anyway. “Pierce is pulling your strings,” he said. “He wants you gone. He set you up for failure the minute you decided to capture me.” You know what happens to people who try , went unspoken, but Tony knew Obie heard it.

“Nice try,” said Obie. “You can’t manipulate me. I know my worth to HYDRA.”

“Is that why the Winter Soldier has ordered to kill you?” goaded Tony. it wasn’t true, but that didn’t matter; Tony could lie with the best of them. “He’s tried to get out six times, saying he has to finish his mission.”

Obie blanched. “You’re lying,” he said, but he sounded unsure.

“Am I?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Obie smiled a rictus grin. “I could stop the Asset.”

“Maybe your phalanx of guards could,” Tony snorted in practiced disbelief. “Overcompensating, much?”

“When I program you,” seethed Obie, hands clenched into fists. “I will use the words that set your precious Barnes free. I will trigger you in front of him and make you kill him. I will make you watch as you choke the light out of his eyes, then I will set you free and make you live what you did before I kill you.”

Tony didn’t have to fake the jolt of fear that spiked through him. “That’s cruel, even for you,” he said, trying to keep the waver out of his voice.

“Years in exile will do that to a man.”

“You tried to commit regicide! Exile was kind .”

“Spring was mine !” Obie roared.

“Should’ve thought of that before you tried to kill the royal family,” Tony met his eyes and held them.

Obie’s face tightened. “Enough chatter,” he decided. He pulled Tony roughly to his feet, dragging the prince behind him with an iron grip. “It’s time.”

Tony struggled, but there was only so much he could do with his hands tied. He hadn't managed to get the words, but if Obie was to be believed, he’d have them soon enough. “Fuck you!” he protested anyway, twisting his body to try to loosed Obie’s hold. It was fruitless.

Obie dumped him in a chair, magical ropes binding him in place with a snap of his fingers. He fastened something to Tony’s temples. Tony saw greed glinting in the man’s eyes when he stepped back to admire his work.

“You won’t get away with this,” Tony swore. He wondered where Steve and Natasha were, if they had been caught or worse.

“How cliche,” Obie said with a thin smile. He forced a cloth between Tony’s teeth to stop him from biting off his tongue. “This might hurt.”

A pulse of electricity had Tony seeing stars.

“One,” said Obie, voice cold and devoid of emotion. Tony glared at him as best he could through the ache in his head, but his vision was doubling and he wasn’t sure if he was looking in the right place.

“Two.”

Tony’s vision went white again. He was breathing heavily, trying to think of happy thoughts.

“One.”

Tony reminded himself that he had felt worse; only, he wasn’t sure he had.

“Six.”

Obie’s smile was wreathed with sparks in his mind.

“One.”

He couldn’t think for the screaming pain. Tony couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore.

“Nine.”

Arcs of electricity were dancing behind his closed eyelids.

“Nine.”

Pain lanced across his skin. He was pretty sure he was screaming. The cloth had been useless; he tasted blood in his mouth.

“One.”

One last spike of agony slammed into his skull and the world went blissfully dark.

Chapter Text

Natasha kept a blank face as Stane’s men came for Tony. Her hands itched to fight, to save Tony, but the Black Widow knew better than to sabotage a plan as precarious as this one. She had to trust that Tony knew what he was doing.

It was harder to remind herself of that when the men took him away, unconscious and vulnerable. If this didn’t work out, she was going to kill him herself.

Steve was at her side, a line of tension and guilt. She admired his restraint, though; she couldn't imagine this being easy for him. He looked like he wanted to burst through the trees and get Tony, plan be damned.

“We have to follow them,” he reminded her tersely, taking an aborted step forward.

Natasha held his arm tight. “Not yet,” she hissed. “They'll see us.”

“We’ll lose them,” he argued.

“They aren’t exactly quiet,” she said, levelling him with an unimpressed stare. “Trust me, we won’t.”

They lapsed into silence, both too tense and worried to try for small talk. Natasha didn’t know Steve, didn’t trust Steve, but she had to count on him to rescue one of her only friends. She feared that she’d open her mouth and bite his head off if she tried to talk, and he’d leave her to save Tony alone. Not that she couldn’t- she was the Black Widow - but it wasn’t ideal. So she stayed silent.

After a few minutes, Natasha signaled that they needed to move. She blended seamlessly into the dark woods, red hair covered by a hood. Each step was silent and stealthy, her training coming to the forefront in every motion. In comparison, Steve was practically graceless, making more noise than Natasha had thought possible.

She bit back a sarcastic comment, focused on her mission. They were too close to Stane’s men to risk talking and being heard. Natasha just hoped they thought Steve was a particularly idiotic deer, or something. Luckily, they didn’t turn, busy carrying an unwieldy Tony.

She was so proud of her friend, inconveniencing assholes even unconscious.

“We’ll get him back,” Steve said lowly, trying to reassure her.

She hoped he didn’t catch her flinch; the Black Widow shouldn’t be that easy to read, not by a stranger . Her time in Autumn, her time with Tony, had made her soft. She couldn’t bring herself to regret it, though, not really . Still, it was a poke at her already tense nerves.

“I know,” Natasha said viciously. “Do you think I’d let him go if I wasn’t certain ?”

“Yes,” he replied evenly. “Because you trust his judgement.”

“Shut up,” she hissed, turning her back on the knight. It was a nothing movement to her; she could hear his every move and could beat him blindfolded, but it told Steve that she was done talking. “You don’t know anything.”

“It’s not a bad thing to admit you care about him,” Steve said softly.

“Love is for children,” she spat, the ghosts of old handlers speaking with her. “We’re going to lose them. Let’s move.”

---

Steve was not built for stealth. An hour into tailing Stane’s men, he was ready to burst out of the trees and start hitting things. Energy was simmering under his skin, nerves and fear and guilt wanting to escape somewhere.

Luckily, they seemed to be close, if the way Natasha’s fingers were clutching her knife were any indication. That or she had finally gotten fed up with his loud footsteps and was planning to cut his feet off. He hoped it was the former.

A fortress appeared out of nowhere- literally. One moment, there was nothing but trees and darkness; the next, Stane’s men were walking into a veritable castle, taking Tony with them.

“What was that?” Steve breathed, not believing his eyes.

Natasha’s green eyes glinted in the dark. “Magic.”

Suddenly, Steve felt very inadequate with only his shield. He knew about magic, of course, but in the way of a Winter bedtime story. If it had ever had it, Winter had lost its magic when HYDRA came to power. Steve had been raised in a world barren of it and learned to survive without it. Unfortunately, that meant he didn’t know how to fight it.

“How are we…” he trailed off, not knowing how to word his weakness to make it sound like he wasn’t completely useless.

“An illusion this size takes a lot of power, and Stane was never a good sorcerer,” Natasha explained, taking pity on him. “This is likely the only magical defense. There’s no need to waste the effort on defending it if people can’t find the castle, after all.”

Steve hoped his sigh of relief wasn’t as obvious as it felt. “Do you have a plan to get in?”

“I’ll follow your lead,” she said, smiling almost dangerously. He gulped. “ Captain .”

Surprisingly, the frisson of fear was what he needed to calm his mind. He had infiltrated and taken down hundreds of fortresses like this in Winter- all without magic. “The roof,” he decided. “It’s always a weak point. We can make our way down from there.”

Natasha nodded. “How do we get up?”

“We climb,” he gestured towards the wall.

“I hate this plan,” she grumbled, crossing silently through the shadows to the rock face of the castle. Steve just hoped no one was watching the tree line for intruders; he had no illusions that he was anything but noticeable.

Steve grunted as he pulled himself up the wall; it was taller than he had thought. The handhold were few and far between, it taking every bit of his concentration to not fall off. Natasha above him seemed to be having none of his issues, gliding up like a spider. He cursed her under his breath as he advanced another few feet.

Finally, he reached the top, panting from the exertion. Natasha just smiled at him and offered him a hand up; she had gotten to the top first, by a long time.

“How did you do that?” he asked, catching his breath.

“I was trained as an assassin from birth and am always in peak physical condition,” she answered promptly. “Our training was a lot harder than one measly wall.”

He gaped at her. “Okay, then.”

He scanned the roof. There were no guards; if there had been, Natasha would’ve taken care of them, he knew. He spotted a door, with stairs leading down. Steve gestured for Natasha to follow as he pulled his shield off his back, falling into battle mode.

There were no lights along the stairs, just a steep descent into darkness. Natasha snapped her fingers and summoned a flame, bright enough that he could see.

“If we have to fight, I won’t be able to maintain it,” she warned.

“Understood,” Steve said, leading them down the steps, shield aloft in front of him. The red glow of Natasha’s fire made everything eerie.

The base was weirdly empty. They had been walking for almost ten minutes and hadn’t encountered a single guard. Steve was on edge, jumping at every shadow. Even in the most secluded HYDRA bases, there had always been someone .

“We need to find Stane’s quarters,” Natasha said, catching on to his growing sense of unease. “If he has the cure, it’ll be there.” She disappeared down a hall, taking the light with her.

Steve was about to follow Natasha when he heard shouting from the opposite direction. Only Natasha’s hand on his arm stopped him from running towards it.

“We have to go,” Steve said. “That could be Tony!”

Natasha looked conflicted, but her voice was steady. “Tony is trusting us to finish the mission,” she said tightly. “So that’s what we need to do.”

“Natasha-”

“He’ll be pissed if this is all for nothing,” she hissed, dragging him towards where she hoped Stane’s quarters were. Her movements had none of her earlier grace as she tore through the halls, fast enough that Steve could barely keep up. The fire in her hand flickered with her emotions, growing weaker and weaker the farther from Tony they got.

Steve floundered as the shouting increased in volume. “We can…”

She ignored him. Throwing open a door, she flung herself into a room and started tearing it apart, having given up on being stealthy in the face of her friend’s suffering.

“Start looking,” she ordered. She was searching the desk, grabbing and discarding papers.

Steve turned to the bed, flipping over pillows and looking under the mattress. When there was nothing there, he rummaged through the closet, looking for something, anything , that would make their suicide mission worthwhile. Natasha’s low growls of frustration were not giving him hope.

He was about to give up when his hand brushed paper, bound with leather. He pulled out a tiny red notebook, the HYDRA symbol embossed on the front.

“I have something,” he said, passing the book to Natasha.

She flipped through it quickly. Steve caught the words Winter Soldier program and the hope in his chest caught fire. “This is it,” she said, closing it and shoving it in her pocket. “Let’s go get Tony.”

Steve couldn’t have stopped his smile if he tried. They could save Bucky, and no one had gotten hurt. The little red book felt like salvation. Even Natasha looked a little lighter for their success.

Then the screams started.

Chapter Text

“ Fuck ,” Natasha hissed, taking out a knife and sprinting down the hall. The little notebook bounced in her pocket, its weight a reassurance and a curse. She didn’t get far before she was stumbling to a stop.

The whole castle was shaking, fractures appearing in the stone walls in time with the screams.

“What’s going on?” Steve panted, catching up to her.

“Tony,” she replied grimly.

“We have to get to him,” he said, hefting his shield on one arm.

Natasha tried to move forward, but a wave of power buffeted her backwards. The air was golden and electric, tasting like coconut and metal. Tony .

Her own magic flared red, a shield around her and Steve. It wavered in the face of the attack, forcing her farther back.

“I can’t get through,” she shouted over the howling wind. “He’s going to burn himself up!”

“What does that mean?” Steve shouted back.

“Damn it, Rogers, I do not have time to teach you about magic right now!” Natasha took another step forward, her whole body straining. Tony was powerful, even more so when he was desperate. The building was rocking with the force of his desperation, scaring her to no end.

It felt like every last vestige of power had to be draining from his bones right then, to sustain something so strong. If he was dying, she was going to kill him.

Suddenly, everything cut out. She tumbled forward, catching herself in a roll and springing to her feet. Steve behind her wasn’t as lucky; without the force holding him back, he face planted into the ground.

If she wasn’t so panicked, she might have laughed.

“Come on,” she said to Steve, already running. Every door she passed was blown open, every room empty. “Tony!”

The castle was silent but for Steve’s heavy footfalls and her shouting. Natasha couldn’t get rid of the feeling that something was very wrong. She trusted her instincts; they rarely steered her wrong. It was too quiet.

The last door in the hall was torn off its hinges most violently, reduced completely to splinters. The walls were riddled with cracks, the whole area looking unstable. Natasha brought her knife up and ready, motioning for Steve to fall behind her as she carefully stepped inside.

The inside of the room was no better. Everything was blackened with soot, like the room itself had caught fire. There was a lump on the ground, a body too big to be Tony’s. Probably Stane’s. Natasha couldn’t even muster up a second’s worth of guilt or pity.

There was a chair in the center of the room, gleaming silver despite the utter devastation around it. In it, someone lay limp and sagging from metal restraints.

“Tony,” she breathed, moving forward. She registered Steve moving behind her to Stane’s body, probably checking for a pulse. But she had eyes only for her friend, unresponsive in the torture device that she knew would haunt her nightmares.

Tony didn’t stir. His skin under her fingers was cold, clammy. It took a minute too long to find his thready pulse, a minute in which her heart leapt out of its carefully controlled cage and sent tears running down her cheeks. He didn’t move, but his heartbeat was enough to give her a little bit of hope.

“Stane’s dead,” Steve announced somberly.

“Good,” she hissed, trembling fingers moving to get Tony out of his bindings. “I hope he rots in hell.”

Wordlessly, Steve moved to help her. Together, they maneuvered Tony onto the floor, head in Natasha’s lap. He looked for a brief moment like he was going to wake up, but his eyes remained stubbornly closed. She carded one hand through his hair, silently begging him to wake up and be alright.

She wasn’t an idiot; she knew what the chair was for. She knew what Stane had done. Her only hope was that Tony had been worth more to the man as an Asset than dead, otherwise, it would have been only too easy to turn the electricity up too high and fry Tony’s brain.

And it was her fault that this happened. She had been too focused on the mission to stop and assess the risk. She should have known that Stane wouldn’t waste time, would throw Tony right in the chair. She chose the book over her friend. It was her fault.

If he died, it would be on her.

“Should we be staying here?” Steve asked hesitantly. She shot him a death glare. “Sorry.”

They stayed silent in their vigil on the floor after that, waiting for Tony to wake up. And he would, Natasha knew.

(She didn’t know what she was going to do if he didn’t.)

---

Tony woke up to throbbing pain in his skull and the taste of blood in his mouth. His mind was fuzzy, slower than usual. It took several minutes before he remembered what had happened to him.

What Obie had done to him.

All of his thoughts were slow coming, spikes of pain behind his eyes with every one. It felt like he was underwater, weightless and empty. His eyes weren’t obeying him and opening, so the world was dark.

He could hear movement somewhere distant, but it wasn’t enough to drag him out of his haze. He knew he should have been more afraid that his mind, his greatest weapon, wasn’t working in a potentially hostile situation, but it hurt to care. Tony retreated back into his head, letting the darkness claim him again.

He didn’t dream.

---

Natasha was at his side when Tony woke up the second time. His mind was still scrambled, but he’d have recognized her red hair anywhere.

“‘Tasha?” he tried, mouth not forming words properly.

“ Antoshka ,” she said, smiling. Her smile transformed into a truly terrifying scowl. “If you ever scare me like that again, I will slice you into little bits and feed them to the rats.”

“That’s a horrifying thought,” he said mildly, fogginess receding. He sat up suddenly, alert, and ignored the rushing pain to his head that the movement brought him. “Did you get them?”

“We did,” Steve said, a disbelieving smile on his face. “We got the words.”

“Thank god,” Tony breathed. He frowned. He didn’t want to ask, but he had to know. “Where’s Ob- Stane?”

“Gone,” said Natasha, voice hard.

Tony just nodded. He couldn’t say that it didn’t hurt, Obie’s death, because it was still Uncle Obie , the man who bandaged his scrapes and encouraged his projects, who always made time for him even when Howard wouldn’t. But a sick, ruthless part of him was relieved that Obie was dealt with. He was sure Natasha had made him pay.

“Good,” he said finally. Neither of his companions called him out on the crack in his voice, for which he was grateful. “When are we getting out of here?”

“When you can walk,” Natasha said dryly. “Besides, we still don’t know what effects the chair had. We need to play it safe.”

“I can walk,” Tony protested, resolutely ignoring the parts of her statement that he didn’t want to think about. He stood, unsteady on his feet, and took a shaky step forward. “Totally.”

He collapsed into Natasha’s deceptively strong arms. “Sure you can,” she said, setting him back down. “Rest a little longer. We’re not going anywhere.”

Tony tried to fight the rush of darkness, but he fell asleep as soon as his head hit her lap.

---

“You lied to him,” Steve said carefully when he was sure that Tony was sleeping. They had sat in silence for close to an hour, broken only by Tony’s pained breathing.

Natasha arched a delicate eyebrow. “I’m a liar,” she said. “I usually do.”

“He thinks you killed Stane,” Steve continued.

“He does.”

“Why?”

Natasha sighed. “Stane was still his family, even after everything,” she said quietly. “He doesn’t need to live with that guilt.”

“Stane tortured him,” Steve felt obligated to point it out, as if she could have somehow missed it.

“Tony’s always been too forgiving for his own good.”

Steve still didn’t understand, not really, but Natasha's face was utterly blank. He knew pushing it would get him nowhere. “What do we do now?” he asked instead.

“Pray that this is all over,” she said. “But with our luck, I’m willing to bet it isn’t.”

“At least we got the words?” Steve tried, not at all feeling the optimism he was trying to project.

Natasha’s hand didn’t falter where it was running through Tony’s hair. There were burns on the prince’s temples from the electricity and his lips were bitten raw. Even sleeping, he twitched with fear. “Yeah,” she said dully. “At least we got the words.”

Chapter Text

Pepper was in shock, picking her way through the rubble, looking for survivors. There was smoke in her eyes, forcing tears down her cheeks as she trawled the wreckage of her home. Her orange magic lifted blocks of stone, shifting them aside to clear a path. So far, she was alone.

When the alarms had gone off, signaling an attack, she had hid. She was no good in combat; in fact, she was completely useless. So, at Rhodey’s urging, she had led the servants through the winding halls to one of the safe rooms, her magic lighting a path for the terrified group. But then the explosions had started, and Pepper was separated from everyone by falling stone and fire. Only her shields had kept the rubble from killing her instantly; instead, it blocked her in, burying her and trapping her. She had spent an hour trying to free herself, only to find the castle still and broken.

She choked down a sob as she passed the broken bodies of two guards, the ones who were usually stationed outside of her rooms. They clearly hadn’t stood a chance against whatever had attacked them; she hoped it had at least been quick. Pepper wobbled on unsteady legs, making her way to the throne room. The king and queen would know what to do- they’d have to.

The corridors were dead silent but for the shifting of stone. It looked like a bomb had gone off, obliterating the decorated walls into dust. There were fires burning; she put out what she could with her magic. She walked in a daze, utterly alone.

The grand doors of the throne room were torn off their hinges, in pieces on the ground. Pepper needed to find the king and queen, but she was terrified to go in the room. Even from the hall, she could tell that it was completely destroyed. If the king and queen had been in there…

She didn’t want to think about it. But she forced herself forward; she knew she wouldn’t be the only one on her way to the throne room. Maybe she’d find Rhodey and the other survivors.

If there were any.

Pepper’s shoes clicked loudly against the ruined floor. Luckily, the room wasn’t empty. It was silent as a tomb, but there were other people, huddled in a circle in the middle of the room. They turned to face her as she walked in, so she held her head high and wiped her face.

“What’s going on?” she asked, pushing forward.

Mutely, one of the knights pointed. Crumpled on the ground were two bodies. The woman wore a gold dress, stained with so much blood that it was red. Her hair was in her face, but the circlet nested in her curls was distinctive. Pepper tasted bile in her mouth when she looked at the man next to her. The crown on his head was dented, like his skull. His eyes were open and unseeing.

The King and Queen of Spring, Howard and Maria Stark, were lying on the floor, dead.

Pepper couldn't blame the dust in her eyes for the renewed course of tears streaming down her cheeks.

---

Tony was seriously considering asking Steve to carry him. He was pretty sure the knight would do it; guilt, however misplaced, was a bitch.

Besides , Tony thought petulantly. With muscles like those, I probably weigh nothing to him .

His head was still pounding, in time with his aching steps. In front of him, Steve walked faster than he could keep up with, looking not at all winded. Tony didn’t want to ask him to slow down, not when they had already wasted three days at Obie’s fortress for his head to stop ringing.

God, he had forgotten how much he hated walking when he tended to fly everywhere.

At least the land was starting to feel familiar. Since crossing into Spring, Tony felt the magic nudging at his own, giving him a bit of energy. It couldn’t be too much farther to the castle; Tony was determined to make it without assistance.

Natasha, as always, seemed to know what he was thinking the second he thought it.

“Are you okay, Tony?” she asked quietly.

“Tired,” he admitted. “I can’t wait to get home and sleep for a few more days. Spring can function if I take a few days off, right?”

“I think we can arrange something,” Natasha smiled. Tony wasn’t blind; she was feeling guilty, too. He had told her a hundred times that it wasn’t her fault, but she had just sent him sad smiles and didn’t speak.

“How much farther?” Steve called back to them.

Tony examined the village they were passing. It looked familiar, one of the ones right outside the palace grounds that he used to sneak away to when he was younger. “Not long,” he said. “We should be there soon.”

There must have been something in his voice, a note of whining or something, because Steve turned to him with a wry grin. “I can carry you if you want, Your Highness,” he teased.

“Keep walking, Rogers,” Tony deadpanned. “I could have you executed for your disrespect.”

“You’re not my prince, technically,” Steve pointed out. "So I'm pretty sure you can't."

“Nat,” Tony complained, leaning on the redhead. “Steve’s being mean to me.”

“Steve, don’t be mean to Tony, “ Natasha said dutifully.

Steve laughed. “I feel like he started it.”

“I’m a prince,” Tony said haughtily. “All conflicts are automatically not my fault. It’s the law.”

“Come on,” Steve rolled his eyes, choosing not to respond. “If we hurry, we can get there before nightfall. I’m starving .”

They lapsed into silence on the last leg of their journey. Tony lost himself in thought, mostly about his forge and his bed, two places he foresaw himself spending some quality time in in his future. He could rest easy; they had gotten the words and dealt with Obie. Life would calm back down, he hoped.

Then he smelled smoke.

Tony caught his breath as the castle came into view. His home was a ruined shell, thick black smoke drifting from cracked windows and fires burning all over the grounds. It looked like a warzone. Drawing closer, stunned silent, he noticed the congregation of people standing outside it. Pepper was tending to the wounded with her usual efficiency, Bruce at her side. Rhodey was shifting the rubble, aided by a small group of other nights. Even Carter and Bucky were helping out where they could.

“What happened?” he demanded, wading through the crowd. Natasha and Steve were somewhere behind him, but he had long since pushed past them. “What’s going on?”

It was Rhodey who spoke up. “We were attacked,” he said quietly. “They came out of nowhere. We couldn’t stop them; we tried. Tones...”

“Who did?” Tony pressed, feeling the rage collecting in his bones. “Who dared?”

“HYDRA,” Carter volunteered, her hands in tight fists at her side. Her cheek was bleeding; clearly, she had fought back. “It was HYDRA. We were overrun in minutes. They…” she broke off in a sob.

Steve and Natasha were talking to him, but he couldn’t focus on their words. His head was buzzing, trying to absorb all of the information around him and rejecting the only conclusions it was leading him to.

(There were two people that Tony didn’t see in the crowd, two people who should have been there. His mother, a renowned healer, wasn’t walking among the injured. His father, the damn king , wasn’t with his people.)

Tony turned to Pepper. “Pepper,” he begged, already knowing the answer to what he was going to ask. “Where’s my mother? Where’s my father?”

“The king and queen are dead,” Pepper said, voice breaking. She stared at Tony, her eyes red from crying, and bent down to one knee. The rest of the survivors, even the Winter delegation, followed her lead, leaving Tony standing alone. “Long live the king.”

Chapter Text

Bringing Bucky back to himself had been remarkably anticlimactic. Steve had recited the words, Natasha at his side holding a knife. Peggy had been there, too. Tony hadn’t been; Steve hadn’t seen the prince- no, king - since the announcement.

Awareness slowly dawned in Bucky’s eyes, and Steve grabbed him in a crushing hug as soon as the Winter Soldier retreated.

“Stevie,” Bucky choked out, voice hoarse.

“Stupid jerk,” Steve cursed. “I thought I’d lost you.”

“Can’t get rid of me that easy, Rogers,” said Bucky.

Steve couldn’t stop his smile. Despite everything bad that was happening, at least Bucky was okay. With Bucky at his side, Steve knew that they could face whatever else the world was going to throw at them.

Natasha, evidently, did not share his sentiment. Her knife was still in her hand, gripped tight. “Soldat?” she tried, just in case.

Bucky watched her with cautious eyes. “Just me in here,” he confirmed.

She breathed an almost imperceptible sigh of relief. “Good.”

Bucky was scanning the room, seeming to catch on to the air of general misery. “What happened?” he asked. The blood drained from his face. “ What did I do? ”

“Nothing!” Steve said quickly.

“HYDRA attacked you on your initial rescue mission for Prince Anthony,” Peggy said softly. “They-”

“Is Tony alright?” Bucky demanded, freeing himself from Steve’s arms. “Did I hurt him?”

She shook her head. “You didn’t hurt him. He escaped and brought you back to Spring. Then, him, Steve, and Natasha went to find a cure.”

“We found it,” Natasha took over, voice icy and emotionless. “But while we were gone, HYDRA took the opening to attack the castle. King Howard and Queen Maria were both killed.”

“Oh, god,” Bucky breathed. “Where is he now?”

Natasha blinked in surprise. “He ran off,” she admitted. “He’s processing things; he said he wanted to be alone.”

“Fuck that,” Bucky growled, making for the doors. “He shouldn’t be.”

“Check the forge, then,” Natasha said, something like approval in her voice. “He’s probably there.”

“Thanks,” Bucky made to leave.

Her voice stopped him. “Barnes?” she said, oddly vulnerable. “He’ll lash out. He’ll hurt you.”

“I’m tough.”

She appraised him for one more minute, as if gauging his sincerity. “Good.”

---

Pepper blew out a breath, looking at the contract in front of her. Her and Peggy had been going in circles on it for hours, trying to come up with a solution that fit both their kingdoms.

“Look,” Pepper said. “I’m going to be honest. We need this alliance, now more than ever.”

Peggy nodded. “We aren’t rescinding our offer,” she clarified. “I just… well, it’s our fault you’re in this mess. I figured you wouldn’t want to tie our kingdoms together, after everything.”

“Our monarchs were just assassinated and our kingdom attacked,” said Pepper. “We’ll take what we can get.”

“Is your king still in agreement?” asked Peggy, somewhat skeptically.

“He is,” Pepper sighed. “He’s the one who pushed me to arrange this now. Spring is in a vulnerable position and he knows it; he wants what’s best for Spring, even if that means marrying himself off.”

“There are other things to base an alliance off of.”

“None as strong,” she countered. “Marriage is the best way to secure this, you know that. Goodwill can be exhausted fast.”

“We wouldn’t back out of a promise,” Peggy denied, but understanding was clear on her face.

“You still need this,” Pepper pushed. “The HYDRA threat will go away, but you’ll always need an ally. Can you trust that we won’t back out of a promise?” It was underhanded, Pepper knew, to play on the trust issues of the Winter Kingdom, but she spoke only the truth. The marriage alliance was more important now that they had been successfully attacked; they needed Winter’s might. And Winter needed them, needed their connections and power to establish themselves as legitimate after their decades of isolation.

It was Peggy’s turn to sigh. “We still need to agree on terms.”

“Now that Tony has ascended to the throne, we can’t send him to the Winter Kingdom,” said Pepper, wringing her wrists. This was a point of contention that they hadn’t managed to hammer out. “There are no other heirs, and our kingdom is too volatile right now to appoint a regent.”

“Winter isn’t much better,” argued Peggy.

“We need a middle ground.”

Peggy gasped. “Hear me out,” she started.

Pepper caught on immediately. “There’s no way that will work.”

“Merge the kingdoms,” Peggy’s eyes were shining with excitement, clearly already planning. “That way no one needs to leave their own.”

“It won’t work,” Pepper said, but her skepticism was weak even to her own ears. “It’s not possible.”

Peggy’s face was set with determination. “It’ll have to be.”

---

The first place Bucky looked for Tony was the forge. It was dark and empty, silent but for the faint rushing of air through the place. It looked almost haunted.

“Jarvis?” Bucky called, hoping he was remembering the name of the forge spirit correctly. “Do you know where Tony is?”

The air hummed with something, like Jarvis had woken up. “Sir is in the gardens,” the spirit said quietly.

“Thank you,” Bucky said, turning a little awkwardly to leave. He wasn’t sure of the procedure for dealing with forge spirits.

“Take care of him, King Barnes,” said Jarvis. “I worry, but unless he comes to the forges, I can do nothing.”

Bucky swallowed down the lump in his throat. “I’ll try,” he promised.

“That’s all I ask,” Jarvis’s voice followed hm out of the forge, sticking in his ears.

The path to the gardens was familiar, Bucky having walked it with Tony what felt like forever ago. The flowers that lined it were trampled and dying, but still beautifully colored. Bucky stepped around them carefully, not wanting to hurt them any more than they’d been hurt. He didn’t see Tony, not on the benches that studded the path or walking between the rows of plants.

Bucky kept walking and lost himself in his thoughts. He couldn’t imagine what Tony was feeling, wasn’t sure he wanted to. He knew a little about being handed the reins to a kingdom out of nowhere, trying to rule after tragedy. But he hadn’t succeeded his parents . Bucky, at least, had ruled in peacetime. Tony’s regency was already rooted in war.

He followed a butterfly onto a forgotten path out of instinct, the weeds tripping his feet as he trailed after it. At the end of the path, Tony was lying in the grass, absently pulling it up and discarding it.

“Hey, Tony,” Bucky said cautiously. Tony didn’t flinch, didn’t even move. The butterfly from before landed on his nose.

“Ana, you traitor,” he grumbled at it. “I’m pretty sure I said I wanted to be alone .” The butterfly flapped its wings, smacking him lightly in the face, before flying off. The interaction looked almost familial, and Bucky was reminded of just how much of a mystery Spring and its king were to him.

“I just wanted to see how you were doing,” Bucky continued lamely. “If you were, you know, okay.”

Tony sat up stiffly. “How do you think I’m doing?” he whirled around, eyes red and puffy. His hair was a mess and there was blood clotted in his hair. “Tell me, do you think I’m okay?”

“Not really,” said Bucky. “Not that I expected you to be. You’ve been through a lot recently.”

“And whose fault is that?” Tony snarled. “Spring wouldn’t be in this mess if it wasn't for Winter.”

Bucky raised his hands, placating. “I’m sorry, doll.”

“Take your sorries and shove them up your ass.”

Bucky sat down in the grass next to him. Tony looked so young . “You’re not alone,” he said softly, like he was talking to a skittish animal. “You have Potts and Rhodes and Romanov. You have butterflies and spirits who care about you enough to lead me to you. You have a kingdom of people who support you.” He paused for a second. “You have me, if you want me.”

Tony’s eyes were iron. “And if I don’t?” he challenged. “If I want you out of my kingdom and out of my life?”

“Then I leave,” Bucky shrugged. “I don’t want to hurt you, Tony.”

“Stay,” Tony said after a long pause. It looked like it cost him something to say it; he collapsed on himself, falling into the flowers with new tears running down his cheeks. “Stay, please.”

Bucky gathered the weeping boy in his arms and held him tight. He pressed a soft kiss to his temple. “Of course I will.”

Chapter Text

Crying it out had helped Tony a little, but he still felt terrible when he pulled away from Bucky. Bucky, who hadn’t left the whole time he was sobbing. He knew that it couldn’t have been fun for the other king, whose shirt was definitely ruined from the tears.

“Thanks,” Tony said lamely. He sniffled once and wiped his eyes, trying to scramble together some composure. “You can, uh, you can go now, if you want.”

“I said I’d stay,” Bucky said, eyes soft and gentle. There was no pity there, not like Tony was expecting, like he had seen from everyone else in the damn kingdom. It made him feel a lot better; Bucky had seen death, could understand what Tony was feeling.

Tony stood on shaky legs. He didn’t want to, didn’t want to have to face the people, but they needed their leader. With Howard and Maria gone, he was all they had. “I have to go back, don’t I?” He really didn’t want to have to go to the throne room, to sit in Howard’s seat, to see the empty spot to his left where his mother sat.

“I’ll come with you,” Bucky offered before Tony could ask.

Tony’s throat was too tight to respond. He nodded curtly, marshalling his expression under control. With long, purposeful steps, he strode out of the garden. Bucky grabbed his hand loosely, turning questioning eyes on Tony. Tony squeezed it and kept walking.

The paths weren’t empty, like they had been when Tony had fled the castle. Now, the garden sprites were out, coaxing flowers back to life with delicate and patient hands. It was beautiful, and Tony felt his heart lighten despite everything. His kingdom would survive, would come back better than it had been. He would make sure of it.

Bucky’s hand in his own was a reassuring weight, reminding him that he wasn’t going to be alone. He had talked to Pepper before he ran off; the marriage alliance was still on. Looking at Bucky beside him, Tony wondered if that was such a bad thing. He was self-aware enough to know that he liked the man as more than a friend, complications be damned. He hoped Bucky felt the same, but logically, he knew it couldn’t be possible.

“Are you ready?” asked Bucky when they reached the gates, hand in hand.

“As I’ll ever be,” Tony admitted, tamping down the part of him that wanted to run and hide. “Last chance for you to go. You don’t have to stay, it’s okay.”

“Do you want me to go?”

Tony didn’t answer. But he didn’t let go of Bucky’s hand, either.

---

Bucky could easily admit that he wasn’t made to rule, not like Tony was. Watching Tony in action just hammered that home. The man spun words like silk, twisting the world to obey him even as his eyes were still red from sobbing.

He stood at Tony’s right hand, next to where Tony sat on his father’s throne. Steve had raised an eyebrow at him, but he had just sent his friend a quelling look. If Tony needed his support, he would be there.

Bucky didn’t want to admit it, but he was falling just a bit for the smart-mouthed king. Tony had wormed his way into his heart with every sweet smile and kind word. His strength and determination had made Bucky’s admiration- and infatuation- grow.

But Bucky knew that there was no way that Tony returned his feelings. After all, Bucky and WInter had brought all of their problems to Tony’s doorstep. Without them, Tony wouldn’t have been kidnapped, wouldn’t have been tortured. More importantly, his parents wouldn’t be dead. Tony had said, tears streaming down his face in the garden, that he didn’t blame Bucky, but that didn’t mean Bucky didn’t blame himself. Even if, by some miracle, Tony didn’t hate him, Bucky didn’t deserve his affection.

Tony was speaking in the soft, lilting language of Spring, rather than the common tongue, so Bucky couldn’t understand a word he was saying. But he understood agitation, and he could hear it coloring the king’s voice, could see it in the movement of his hands. Bucky placed a calming hand on Tony’s shoulder, a reminder that he was there. He glared at the person who was making Tony tense up, hoping that he wasn’t committing some sort of crime by doing so. The man quailed and scurried off. Tony sent him a thankful smile.

On Tony’s left, Rhodes looked contemplative. The knight, clearly, had understood the conversation. He tilted his head towards Bucky in acknowledgement. Rhodes whispered something to Tony, low enough that Bucky couldn’t make it out.

Tony scowled at him, but it was clearly laced with love. Bucky swallowed his jealousy; he wished Tony would look at him like that.

Tony noticed his shifting expressions, as much as Bucky tried to control them. “Are you okay?” he asked, turning his concerned gaze on Bucky.

“Fine,” Bucky managed.

“Are you?” Tony’s eyes were far too intelligent for Bucky to fool. Unfortunately, they were filled with self-recrimination, god knew why. “God, I’m so stupid. I’ve been bogging you down with my issues, and-”

“No, it’s not like that,” Bucky protested, but Tony ignored him.

“-you’ve just been through some shit,” he continued, looking guilty. “I’m such an idiot. I’m so sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” Bucky said firmly.

Tony seemed to be lost in his head. “Go,” he said. “Go get some rest, you probably need it. I have Rhodey to glare at people from behind me.”

“You saw that?”

Tony grinned. “You weren’t exactly subtle.” He stood from his throne, smoothing imaginary wrinkles on his clothing. “Besides, I need a break, too.”

He ushered Bucky out of the throne room and to his rooms in a blur of movement, disappearing in the other direction. Before Bucky knew it, Tony had disappeared from the hallway. Rhodes was looking back from the end of it, looking both confused and reluctantly amused. Bucky didn’t really know what to make of that.

Bucky touched a hand to his cheek. He was fairly certain he hadn’t imagined the quick kiss the king had given him before he left.

---

Rhodey wasn’t sure what was going on with Tony and Barnes. He had heard from Natasha that Barnes had followed the grieving boy to comfort him unprompted. They had returned to the castle together, and Tony was even smiling .

It was odd, to say the least.

Tony didn’t let people in, not really. His inner circle consisted of three people: Rhodey, Pepper, and Natasha. Since Stane, he had become even less trusting, even more wary. But somehow, Barnes had wormed his way into Tony’s heart. If Barnes’s besotted expression was anything to go by, the feeling was mutual.

The mood in the castle was still defeated after the attack and the loss of their monarchs. No one was feeling the loss like the various advisors who had to step out to fill their shoes, though. Rhodey knew they could do with a little cheering up, especially in a way that would make Tony happy, too.

“Pep?” he called, greeting his friend. “Get Rogers and Carter. Romanov, too, while you’re at it. We have a new mission.”

Chapter Text

Rhodey was up to something, Tony was sure of it. Pepper was in on it, too, and Natasha was definitely helping her. Steve and Carter, Tony was less sure about, but he would’ve staked a significant portion of his money on their involvement.

Only, Tony wasn’t sure what it was that they were all doing.

All he knew was that they had all whisked him out of the throne room and into the kitchens before he could even protest. Natasha at the door had stopped him from trying to escape. He was content to see how whatever they were planning would play out, honestly. At the very least, it would be funny for him.

Well, he hoped it would be funny. He could do with a laugh right about then.

Ruling was hard . Tony had a lot more respect for Bucky, taking over his kingdom when he did and making Winter thrive. Tony was terrified that he was going to run Spring into the ground, even though he had been training since his birth to lead.

His first few days as king had seen several crises as his people tried to recover from the attack. His father’s advisors detested him for the most part, and were making everything he tried to do harder. Even Pepper on his side, with her unflappable calm and cutting arguments, wasn’t able to make much of a dent in their opinions. They were set in their ways; Tony had tentative plans to replace every single one of them. He just had to get Pepper to agree (she would, he knew).

The rest of the kingdom was anxious about the threat of a war, desperate for something to celebrate, to take their minds off of everything. Thankfully, Winter was still open to a marriage alliance. The date was set for three months in the future; enough time for Spring to regain some of its footing.

Tony would be lying if he said that he hated the idea, but he hated the pinched look that had crossed Bucky’s face when it was mentioned. But both Carter and Bucky had agreed that it was the best course of action, and that was that.

He couldn’t bear to be part of the planning, though, not when the memory of Bucky’s near-grimace played behind his eyelids. So he passed the planning to Pepper and stuck his head in the metaphorical sand about it all.

None of that had to do with why Tony was in the kitchens, he was fairly sure. Of course, his friends could have been planning a coup or something in response to his poor ruling, but he really hoped that wasn’t the case. They would have put him in the dungeon for sure, not the kitchens stocked with knives and food.

Well, Tony figured, as long as he was in the kitchens, he was hungry. He started looking through the patches of growing vegetables, looking for what he wanted. The routine was familiar; he used to cook with his mother, when he was very little. Even though it had been years since they did it (and they’d never do it again, Tony realized with a pang), he still remembered the motions.

Footsteps sounded behind him. “Pass me the tomatoes, will you?” he called without looking. It was just Natasha, he figured, bored from standing at the door.

A silvery hand held a tomato for him. “What are you making?”

“Holy shit!” Tony gasped, dropping the clove of garlic he was holding. Bucky caught it deftly and shot him a puzzled look.

“What’s the matter, doll?” he asked.

Tony caught his breath. “You scared me,” he chided. “I thought you were Nat.”

“Romanov just left,” said Bucky. “Stevie sent me here, said you needed something?”

“Rhodey just hustled me in here with no explanation,” Tony replied.

“Is that why you needed a tomato?”

“I’m hungry,” Tony defended with a shrug. “Nat was guarding the door; I decided to cook while waiting to see if my friends were plotting to overthrow me. Hence, tomatoes.”

Bucky nodded, clearly confused by Tony’s thought process but resigned to it. “Need help?”

“Sure,” Tony had an inkling of what Rhodey and the others were up to, but it didn’t really matter at that moment. “Get two more tomatoes for me.”

“Now what?” Bucky put them on the countertop, next to the green onions and garlic that Tony had gathered.

“Cut them up,” Tony waved a hand to where the knives were stored. He grabbed his own knife, focusing on neatly dicing the green onions. Memories of Maria’s hands on his own brought tears to his eyes, but he fought them down and focused only on the task. In no time at all, his onions were perfectly cut and ready to be cooked.

Bucky, though, did not have the same success. Tony turned to look at the other man and had to catch himself from bursting into giggles. While Bucky’s skill with a knife was evident, his skill in the kitchen was not. The tomatoes were a mess, cut unevenly. Bucky looked mystified as to how they got that way.

“They’re squishier than I expected,” Bucky explained, fighting a smile. “Are they salvageable?”

“Not at all,” Tony shook his head. He grabbed a fresh tomato, stepping around Bucky to demonstrate. “Here,” he said quietly, putting his own hand on Bucky’s, positioning the knife over the tomato. “Use one hand here to hold it in place. Now, push down. One clean cut.”

Bucky complied. “That was easier,” he admitted, his voice the same volume as Tony’s.

“Again,” Tony said, gathering the vegetable bits together again. “Another cut, opposite direction this time.” Bucky’s hand under his on the knife handle was warm.

“Where’d you learn to do this?” Bucky turned his head to look at Tony.

Tony was struck by how close their faces were. If he leaned in an inch, they’d be kissing. Their bodies were flush against each other, their hands touching where they were both holding the knife.

“I used to cook with my mother,” he said, trying to fight off his blush. He cleared his throat awkwardly and stepped away. He had to remember that Bucky didn’t want him. “Can you do the other two?”

It was the light that was staining Bucky’s cheeks pink, Tony decided. It couldn’t be anything else. “Yeah,” Bucky nodded, turning back to the tomatoes. In seconds, they were cut perfectly. “What next?”

Tony minced the garlic in seconds. “I just have to boil up the noodles, then mix everything up,” he said, starting just that.

“That seems easy,” Bucky said. “I thought it would be harder.”

“Some dishes are,” Tony shrugged. “But I’m too hungry to make something complicated.”

On cue, Tony’s stomach rumbled. Bucky laughed, popping a piece of tomato in his mouth. “I can tell,” he joked, eating another piece.

“Stop that!” Tony squawked. “Eat your messy pieces. I need these for my pasta.”

Bucky met his eyes and ate another. Earlier awkwardness forgotten, Tony sprung forward, tackling Bucky to the ground. Bucky grinned, twisting so that he was on top of Tony.

“Surrender?” he asked, breathless.

“Never,” Tony bucked his hips, shifting Bucky’s weight enough that he could move. It was something Natasha taught him, and he used it to his full advantage. He rocked forward, pinning Bucky. “How about you?”

In response, Bucky opened his metal fist, revealing a perfect tomato cube. He put it in his mouth and chewed, smiling innocently. “I surrender,” he said cheerfully. “Is it time to make the noodles?”

In his head, Tony cursed Rhodey’s devious nature, for engineering this entire thing. But he couldn’t say he hated the results.

---

“Oblivious idiot,” Rhodey hissed, watching Tony and Barnes separate through the window.

Pepper made sympathetic noises next to him. “I really thought this was going to work.”

“You underestimate their idiocy,” Natasha said bluntly. “It will take more than one try. Does anyone have another idea?”

Steve cocked his head, thinking. “I might.”

Chapter Text

Bucky was going to kill Steve. Slowly, so the bastard had time to regret setting him up. Steve was surprisingly devious when he wanted to be, and Bucky didn’t appreciate it.

Okay, so he appreciated it a little bit, but only because Tony looked very good in his training clothing. Not that he didn’t in his formalwear, but it was different. Tony looked looser, more relaxed, and Bucky liked that. He also liked Tony’s muscles, but that was a different point all together.

Steve had sent him to the training grounds under the guise of wanting to practice together, then something had mysteriously come up with Rhodes that had required his presence.

“Go ahead,” Steve had said cheerfully. “I’ll catch up.”

Of course, Steve was a liar and Bucky was definitely considering throttling him. Steve, Bucky figured, had no intentions of coming. He had set Bucky up to be awkward with Tony in a misguided display of friendship. Ever since Bucky had confessed his less-than-platonic feelings towards the young king, Steve had made it his personal mission to get them together, even though Tony didn’t feel the same way. This was the first time that one of Steve’s dumb ideas made it out of their rooms, and Bucky was not happy about it.

Tony still hadn’t noticed Bucky lingering like a creep and watching him train. Bucky figured he could probably keep it that way, if he could take his eyes off of the other man. It was harder than it sounded, what with the way Tony was moving.

He looked like a dancer, graceful and deadly, swinging his sword with expert precision. Every step was deliberate, every motion controlled. Methodically, Tony hacked apart the training dummies with no difficulty. In his training clothing, Bucky could see the lean muscles of Tony’s torso and had to mentally slap himself for his distraction.

Unfortunately, while he was staring like an idiot, Tony had seen him.

“Bucky, hey,” he greeted, sheathing his sword. “What’s up?”

Bucky made a conscious effort to not choke on his tongue as Tony ran a hand through his already mussed up hair. “Steve told me to meet him here,” he explained.

“Ah,” said Tony, and was that disappointment Bucky heard? It was gone as quick as he came; he figured he imagined it.

“I’m pretty sure he’s ditching me, though,” Bucky said quickly. “Because he’s an asshole like that.”

Tony shot him a quicksilver smile. “Sounds like it,” he agreed. “I’ll clear out so you can train. Just give me a minute to clean up.”

“You can stay,” Bucky blurted out. “I mean, if you want. We can train together.”

Inexplicably, Tony blushed a little. Bucky chalked it up to exertion. “Sure,” he said casually. “If you want.” He drew his sword again, grinning. “Prepare to lose.”

“I should be saying that to you,” Bucky stretched his arms and took out his own weapon. E sized Tony up; from what he had seen, it would be a hard fight if they were both trying their best. “Want me to go easy on you?”

“I should be saying that to you,” Tony repeated. “You’re fighting the Golden Avenger.”

“I’m the Winter Soldier, doll,” Bucky smirked. “I can take you.”

Tony made a show of looking him up and down. It distracted Bucky and Tony struck. Their swords met with a loud noise, Bucky only barely blocking Tony’s hit.

“You sure, Snowflake?” Tony taunted, spinning out of the way of Bucky’s strike. Bucky tried very hard to not focus on the way the light was hitting his body, making him look like a hero out of a fairytale. Bucky cursed himself for being so besotted in his mind.

He flew forward, catching Tony mid-laugh with a combination that would have taken a lesser fighter’s head off. Tony just moved with it, stepping just out of range. Even the few times that the flat of Bucky’s sword connected (painfully, he was sure), Tony barely flinched, just moved to block the next one.

“Is that the best you can do?” Tony was very vocal when he fought. Bucky immediately cut off a train of thought wondering if he was like that in other situations, too.

“Just warming up,” Bucky grunted. With a twist of his blade, he disarmed Tony. “Ready to surrender?”

“It’s cute that you think I need a sword to win,” Tony narrowed his eyes, analyzing. The intelligence in his gaze was startling; he seemed to take in everything in a second. Before Bucky could react, Tony jumped, wrapping his legs around Bucky’s neck and felling them in a move that was pure Black Widow.

Tony leaned back so that he was sitting on Bucky’s chest, his legs comfortably twisted around Bucky’s throat. Tony’s hands were on Bucky’s, keeping him from moving his sword.

“Why didn’t you start with that?” Bucky grumbled, making an attempt to free himself to no avail. “If you can break someone’s neck with your damn legs, shouldn’t that be your opening move?”

Tony laughed out loud. “Too easy,” he said. He rolled off of Bucky. Bucky missed his warmth as soon as it was gone. “Rematch?”

“Only if you play fair,” Bucky shot back. “That leg thing should be illegal.”

“Oh, darling,” Tony readied himself, bending over to pick up his sword. “I play to win.”

Bucky sternly reminded his heart that it was the wrong time to flutter in his chest. Predictably, it didn’t listen.

(Tony won again, distracting Bucky when his shirt ripped and exposed his abs, but Bucky found that he didn't mind being pinned by the grinning king. He was still planning to kill Steve, though.)

---

Steve groaned loudly. “That should’ve worked,” he said, burying his head in Peggy’s shoulder. Tony and Bucky had parted ways after their match without doing anything more than sending each other soft eyes. “Bucky’s always had a thing for people who can kick his ass.”

“Now, now, dear,” she comforted him. “It’s not your fault that Bucky is blind.”

“Or that Tony’s stupid,” Natasha chimed in, rolling her eyes. “This feels doomed.”

“We could always lock them in a closet together?” Rhodey offered. “Not let them out until they get their shit together?”

Pepper thought for a moment. “Let’s try something else, first,” she said. “Keep the closet thing as a last resort, though. It might be the only thing that ends up working.”

Chapter Text

Nothing was working.

Pepper was ready to tear out her hair, it was that bad. They had tried everything short of locking the two in a closet and still, the two kings insisted that the other could never like them.

“How are they so stupid? ” she bemoaned, burying her face in Natasha’s side. “They are so dumb .”

“I know, I know,” Natasha soothed, running her hands through Pepper’s hair. “Hush, I know.”

“I had so much faith in Tony!” complained Pepper.

“And it was so misplaced,” added Natasha with a nod.

“And Barnes!” Pepper continued. “He cannot possibly be this oblivious! He’s the Winter Soldier !”

“He was an assassin, not a spy,” said Natasha. “It’s entirely possible to be an idiotic assassin.”

“I’m going to kill them both,” Pepper decided. “They are causing me so much stress, I bet I have grey hairs.”

Natasha made a show of checking. “Just a few,” she teased.

“They’re so dead.”

“Just wait until after the ball tonight,” Natasha chuckled. “You don’t want to explain to all the lords why their king is dead.”

Pepper sat bolt upright. “ The ball ,” she breathed.

“What about it?”

“It’s perfect,” Pepper rambled, clearly already in planning mode. “There’s no way Barnes will be able to keep his hands off Tony in his formalwear. And it’ll be a romantic setting- they can dance! Nat, it’s perfect.”

“You’re very invested in this,” Natasha noted.

Pepper smacked her arm lightly. “Tony deserves to be happy,” she said plainly. “If Barnes is what does it, then I’m going to make it happen.”

Natasha softened in the face of Pepper’s earnestness. “What do you need me to do?”

“Make sure Barnes looks good,” Pepper rolled her eyes. “I can’t wrangle two idiots at once.”

---

Bucky was regretting letting the Black Widow near him. He had apparently shot her once- through her , as she liked to correct- and she was taking out her resentment on him by forcing him into stuffy clothing. Natasha had scuttled into his rooms like the spider she was, pulling clothing out of his closet without an ear for his vehement protests. When she had been satisfied, she had thrown them (and a small knife) at Bucky and told him to change.

Bucky changed.

He tugged at his collar with a huff. It was cut in the looser style of Winter, which was a small mercy, considering how tight the people of Spring wore their clothing.

“Is this really necessary?” he asked, fixing his sleeve over his metal arm.

Natasha glared at him with cold green eyes. “Yes,” she said. “You will be marrying the King of Spring in a few months; I  can’t let you embarrass yourself in front of his people by dressing how you normally do.”

“What’s wrong with the way I dress?” Bucky frowned.

“If you need me to tell you, I can’t help you.”

He rolled his eyes and adjusted his cape. “Are you helping me now?”

“More than you know,” she grumbled. She shook her head at his pitiful attempts to fix his own cape and pinned it herself. “Don’t be an idiot tonight.”

Bucky gawked at her. Had she found out about his affections for Tony? Was she warning him off? He wished that he was better at reading her, but Natasha’s face was entirely blank.

“I won’t,” he said finally.

“That remains to be seen,” she muttered. She appraised him, stepping back to admire her work. “Get to the ball, Barnes.”

---

“Pepper, calm down,” Tony begged as his best friend flitted around him like a hummingbird, pulling at his clothes and fixing his hair.

“I just have to fix this,” she said, voice muffled from the pins between her teeth. “Stop fidgeting.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he grumbled. “You know, I have to be there in three minutes, right?”

“You’re the king,” Pepper shot back. “The ball will wait for you.”

“Pep,” Tony protested. He squirmed away from her prodding, catching her hands in his own. “What’s the matter?”

She glared at him. “You’re a dumbass, that’s what.”

“Very helpful, thank you,” he said dryly. “Care to expand on that?”

“Not at all,” Pepper finished her fussing and kissed his cheek. She placed his crown, gold and rubies molded to look like twirling flowers and vines, firmly on his head. Tony didn’t enjoy the weight, if he was being honest. “Go to the ball. I’ll meet you there later.”

With a huff, Tony resigned himself to walking to the ballroom alone. Normally, Pepper and Rhodey were his buffers at events like these, but he was king now. He couldn’t hide from people in dark corners; he had to interact, unfortunately.

Tony pasted a smirk onto his face and strode into the ballroom. It was as crowded as he was expecting, filled to bursting with various lords and ladies in their finery. They looked a bit like exotic birds, if more miserable and wrinkly, trapped in the glimmering cage of the ballroom.

Damn, Tony wanted a drink if he was getting morbid so fast.

A few eagle-eyed lords saw him first, bowing their heads respectfully. The room quieted as everyone else followed suit.

“At ease,” Tony said distractedly, searching the crowd for a particular face. The party resumed on his word and Tony weaved through the throng.

Bucky was stunning in shades of Winter blue, his cape soft and shiny against the gleaming metal of his arm. He was smiling at Tony like he loved him; god, did Tony wish that were true. But he knew he was reading too much into grateful relief to see a familiar face in an unfamiliar environment.

“King James,” Tony greeted with a slight bow and a playful smirk.

Bucky did the same. “King Anthony,” he teased. “Nice crown.”

“Nice cape,” Tony countered. “Let me guess, Natasha chose it?” Internally, Tony was cursing his friend. She knew exactly what she was doing and he didn’t appreciate it.

“Got it in one,” said Bucky. He opened his mouth to say something else, but shut it fast. His eyes narrowed on something behind Tony.

Tony turned around. Approaching them was none other than Lord Tiberius Stone, an old “friend” of Tony’s. They had had a fleeting relationship years ago and Stone wasn’t over how close he had gotten to the throne before Tony saw through him. Tony had learned a lot from Stone; chief among the lessons was to listen when Rhodey had a bad feeling about someone.

Stone had stolen from Tony’s forge and from the palace vaults, taking enough to establish himself as a well-off lord in the southern parts of Spring, farthest from the palace. Tony, ashamed and devastated, had been unable to do anything about it. He avoided Stone at balls, but the man sought him out every time.

“Lord Stone,” Tony greeted coolly. “A pleasure to see you.”

“The pleasure is all mine, King Anthony,” Stone bent down with a wink to kiss the back of Tony’s hand. “And who is your… friend?”

“My betrothed, King James of Winter,” said Tony, feeling Bucky step a little closer to him. The protection made him feel warm inside, even though he didn’t need it.

“Ah,” Stone said. “I heard about that. Purely political, right?” His smile was all teeth.

Tony almost winced; years later, and Stone still knew how to hit where it hurt. “I believe that to be none of your business,” he said, a warning in his voice.

“Oh, don’t get like that, Anthony,” Stone clapped a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “What’s some gossip between friends?”

“We’re not friends,” said Tony. “Address me with respect, Lord Stone. I am your king.”

Stone’s smile was plastic and fake. He didn’t move his hand from Tony’s shoulder. Tony was seconds away from cutting it off when Bucky stepped in.

Bucky grabbed Stone’s wrist and twisted, forcing it off of Tony’s shoulder. There was murder in his eyes, plain and simple. Stone’s smile fell off of his face at the anger in both monarchs’ faces.

“ Back off ,” Bucky snarled.

---

Bucky didn’t know what came over him, but when he saw Stone’s hand on Tony, he nearly snapped the other man’s wrist clean off.

“Back off,” he growled, stepping towards Stone threateningly. “Or I’ll make you.”

“I thought you got yourself a husband, King Anthony, not a guard dog,” Stone remarked mildly. He looked at Bucky with flat eyes. “Down, puppy.”

“Lord Stone,” Tony’s voice was iron but filled with false casualness. He touched Bucky’s shoulder, a calming motion. “Insult my betrothed again and I will have you stripped of your titles and thrown in the dungeons to rot.”

Stone blinked in surprise. “That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?” his smile was oily and snakelike. Bucky wanted to hit him.

“Not at all,” Tony said sweetly. Deliberately, he threaded his fingers through Bucky’s own. “Now, shoo. You’ve irritated me enough for one night.”

Stone looked between them, casting a glance at their joined hands. Bucky was still glowering, while Tony was smiling like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. Wisely, he turned around without another word and left.

“Thanks,” Bucky looked at Tony. Anger was still burning in the other man’s eyes. “You didn’t have to do that. But, thank you.”

“I did, actually,” Tony said hotly. “Because no one is allowed to treat you that way. Not in my court, not in my lands, not anywhere, you hear me? You have more than proven yourself worthy of their respect; if they don’t give it to you, then it is my job to make sure that they do.”

Bucky was certain he was blushing. “Oh,” he said lamely.

“Did I say something wrong?” Tony looked almost crushed, all of his anger replaced with anxiety.

Instead of answering, Bucky gave in to what he had been wanting since the very beginning.

He caught Tony’s lips in a kiss, trying to say everything that he couldn’t put into words. Every scrap of affection, every thanks, he poured out against Tony’s mouth. Tony’s lips were soft on his own, his hair fine where Bucky’s fingers threaded through it.

Too soon, reality caught up with him. Tony didn’t want him; he only defended Bucky because it was his duty. Tony could never want someone like him, someone so broken. Bucky had ruined any friendship between them by forcing Tony into a kiss he didn’t want. He could’ve slapped himself for being so stupid.

“Oh my god, Tony,” Bucky broke away, eyes wide and panicked. “I’m so sorry.”

Tony touched a hand to his lips, speechless. Bucky didn’t want to wait to hear what sharp words were surely coming, didn’t want to see condemnation and distaste in his whiskey eyes. So Bucky did the only thing he could.

He ran.

Chapter Text

Bucky was a good runner, but Tony had always been good at catching people.

He wasted a precious few seconds with his fingers on his lips, his mind whirling. Bucky had just kissed him. Bucky had just kissed him . Tony allowed himself a moment of hope, hope that Bucky wanted him, too. The kiss had certainly felt like it.

But Bucky had run away with an apology, of all things to say. Tony was lost and confused and the only person capable of explaining things to him had disappeared into the crowd without a backward glance.

No matter. Tony knew he could find Bucky. He knew the palace like the back of his hand from years spent exploring with Rhodey as kids. There was no place on the grounds that he didn’t know the secrets of, no place that Bucky could hole himself away that Tony wouldn’t recognize.

Tony ignored the people clamoring for his attention and pasted on his best back away face, the one Natasha had taught him. Almost comically fast, the crowd parted around him. He strode with the poise of a king, nodding to Pepper as he passed. She got a secretive smile, like she knew something he didn’t.

“Garden,” Natasha whispered as he walked by her. Neither of their faces changed, but she brushed a discreet hand across the back of his in support.

Tony didn’t question how she knew, just adjusted his course when he left the ballroom. There were at least a hundred gardens in the Spring Palace, but Tony was pretty sure he knew which one Bucky had run to.

Daffodils lined the paths of the garden Tony had brought Bucky to, ages and ages ago, when the Winter delegation had first arrived. It was there that Tony had fallen for Bucky, for the spark in his eyes and the care in his every motion. He was careful not to trample the flowers as he ran, following the faint footsteps that had to be from Bucky. The moonlight cast the normally golden path in silvers like an icy winter.

Up ahead, Tony saw a silhouette, hunched over on a bench. Bucky was plucking at a flower with his metal hand. Tony felt his lips curl into a smile and ran a little closer.

“You idiot,” he called, slowing to a walk. “You absolute fool.”

Bucky lifted his head. He looked utterly wrecked. “Tony?” he said hoarsely.

“Dumbass,” Tony breathed. He stepped into Bucky’s space, tilting his head down to meet Bucky’s icy eyes. One of his hands came up to rest on Bucky’s cheek.

“What are you doing?” Bucky asked. He seemed torn between leaning into the touch and pulling away.

“What you should have, obviously,” answered Tony, pulling Bucky in for a kiss.

It was perfect, in Tony’s humble opinion. The slide of Bucky’s lips on Tony’s own sent shivers down Tony’s spine and he whined under Bucky’s careful touch. Bucky was kissing him like he was something precious and Tony couldn’t get enough of it.

Tony had to pull away to breathe sooner than he wanted to. He rested his forehead against Bucky’s, breathing hard.

“Tony,” Bucky repeated. His face was open and fragile, like rejection would break him.

It was a good thing Tony had no intention of rejecting him. “Bucky,” he said, smiling.

“You want me?” said Bucky, voice vulnerable.

‘Of course I do, you idiot,” Tony said. He pressed another kiss to Bucky’s mouth, willing him to understand. “Of course I do.”

Bucky’s hands were clutching at Tony’s hips like he was afraid Tony would disappear. “Oh,” he said intelligently.  “I thought-”

“I know what you thought,” said Tony. “And we’re going to talk about that later. I’m just not sure how you got the impression that I didn’t like you; I was flirting with you nonstop!”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Doll, I was flirting with you ,” he countered. “You were definitely not flirting.”

“No way,” denied Tony. “You were being all aloof and broody. It’s not my fault that I didn’t pick up on it; no one would have.”

“All of your friends did,” Bucky said. “Pepper’s glare is truly something to behold.”

“I see that, and I raise you Peggy’s,” Tony laughed. “While not as terrifying as Pepper’s, I’m sure that woman could kill me with a single finger.”

“Maybe we’re both just oblivious,” said Bucky with a smile. He pulled Tony down for another kiss.

“Maybe so,” Tony went willingly, melting under Bucky’s hands. He cursed himself internally; if they hadn’t been idiots, they could have been doing this for a lot longer. Tony shoved away his regrets and focused on the warm feeling spreading through his chest, something fond and happy .

It wasn’t love yet, Tony knew, but it could be. The feelings were there, like seeds in a garden, and they just needed time to grow. Bucky was possibilities, opportunity, and Tony was nothing if not a futurist. He smiled against Bucky’s lips. It was a future he wanted, that was for sure.

---

When Tony and Barnes walked back into the ballroom, hand in hand, Pepper knew that whatever Tony had run off to do had gone very well. Tony, inexplicably, was actually blushing . Pepper didn’t even know he could do that.

She nudged Rhodey next to her. “Success,” she whispered giddily.

“Cheers,” Rhodey raised his glass, toasting their accomplishment. “I, frankly, didn’t think those dumbasses could do it.”

“That’s because you have no faith,” Pepper sniffed haughtily. “They just needed a push.”

Tony had led Barnes to the dance floor, where they were swaying slowly and looking at each other like besotted fools. Tony had eyes for no one but Barnes, and the other king was clearly in the same boat.

“We did do our fair share of pushing,” agreed Rhodey. He grinned at Pepper. “Now, are you ready to plan a wedding?”

Pepper looked at her friend, looking happier than she had seen him in a long time dancing with Barnes. “Let’s do this.”

Chapter Text

Three months of courting had gone by in a flash. Tony wasn’t sure that he’d ever been happier than he was with Bucky at his side. They had traveled to Winter for a few weeks, to see the snow and ice that Bucky claimed was so beautiful (Tony would never admit it, but he almost preferred it to the flowers in Spring). They’d spent the three months practically inseparable, in a honeymoon phase that Tony thought might last forever. 

The three months had ticked away to their wedding, meticulously planned by their friends. Tony had never been more grateful for Pepper and Rhodey, who were calming his nerves while simultaneously handling everything with an iron fist. 

“Oh my god, what if he changes his mind?” Tony fretted, playing with the clasps on his cape. “What if he doesn’t want to get married anymore?”

“You two are the most disgustingly in love couple I have ever seen,” Rhodey snorted. “That’s not going to happen.”

“Besides, I’d kick his ass if he even thought about it,” Pepper chimed in from where she was twisting flowers together for his crown. “I have put in way too much work on this wedding for it to go to waste.”

“Thanks, Pep,” Tony said dryly. “Very supportive.”

She shrugged. “Just calling it like it is,” she smirked. “You two are going to get married and it’s going to be gorgeous and Rhodey will cry.”

“I will not!” Rhodey protested. “ You’ll cry.”

“I’ll probably cry,” Tony admitted. 

“Because you’re soft at heart,” said Rhodey. 

Pepper smacked the back of Rhodey’s head. “Don’t tease him,” she chided. “He’s sensitive.”

“I’m feeling attacked,” Tony said mildly.

“But not nervous anymore,” Rhodey parried. He clasped Tony’s shoulder. “Everything’s going to go fine, you’ll see.”

“You’re going to go out there and marry the man you love,” Pepper told Tony, putting the crown on his head. She fixed his cape from where he had messed it up and kissed his forehead. “Stop stressing. Now, will that be all, King Anthony?”

Tony smiled gratefully. “That will be all, Advisor Potts.”

Pepper left the room with a twirl of her gown, ostensibly off to harass Natasha about flower arrangements for the hundredth time. 

Rhodey turned to look at Tony. “You ready?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” Tony said, standing up. He couldn’t have stopped the grin on his face if he tried. “I’m ready. You going to walk me down the aisle, Platypus?”

“I’m your knight,” Rhodey answered. “I think it’s in the job description.”

“It’s totally not,” Tony argued fondly, letting Rhodey lead him out of the room and towards the gardens. 

“How would you know?” Rhodey raised an eyebrow. “Are you a knight?”

“I’m the damn king, asshole.”

“Which means you’re not a knight.”

Tony sighed dramatically. “You should be nicer to me,” he said. “I’m getting married, you know. It’s probably bad luck to be mean to me.”

“You’ve only said it a hundred times,” Rhodey rolled his eyes. He walked Tony to the altar, a huge trellis covered in flowers. Rhodey bowed low, a sign of respect that brought tears to Tony’s eyes. “Blessings, my king.”

“Rise,” Tony choked out. His friend winked at him and went to stand guard with Natasha, leaving Tony alone at the altar to wait for Bucky. 

He didn’t have to wait very long; Bucky, flanked by Steve and Peggy, walked into the garden dressed in formal Winter blues. Tony felt his heart skip a beat at the sight. 

Bucky smiled shyly at him, but walked down the aisle with all the confidence of a king. 

“Hello,” Tony breathed when Bucky got within earshot.

“Hello yourself,” Bucky teased back. “You clean up pretty well, Your Majesty.”

“I could say the same to you, Your Majesty,” Tony looked Bucky up and down with a smirk. 

“Ahem,” Bruce cleared his throat awkwardly behind them. He shot Tony a look, tinged with fond amusement. “If we may begin?”

“Go ahead, Brucie,” Tony didn’t take his eyes off of Bucky, though. 

“We are gathered here today to celebrate not only the union between Spring and Winter, but between King Anthony and King James...” Bruce announced. He kept talking, but Tony tuned him out. If it was important, Pepper would tell him later. His attention was caught again when Bruce finished, “I now pronounce you husband and husband.”

Tony leaned in for a kiss, meeting Bucky halfway. Of all the kisses that they had shared during their courtship, Tony could confidently say that this one was the best yet. He could hear the people cheering and clapping, but he and Bucky existed in their own little bubble, separate from them.

“I love you,” Tony whispered when he pulled away. It was the first time he had said it to Bucky, but he meant it with all his heart. He rested his forehead against Bucky’s, just taking a moment to breathe and look at the man he loved. 

Bucky kissed him again. “I love you, too,” he said against Tony’s lips between kisses. “I love you, too.”

In the background, Bruce was still droning on about something or other, but Tony could only focus on his husband. He was smiling like a fool, matching the grin on Bucky’s face. 

Tony knew that they would have problems to face; HYDRA was still out there, even if Stane was not. Winter and Spring were both recovering from their turmoils and needed some sort of stability. Autumn needed reclaiming and the heirs had to be found, wherever they were hiding. But Tony knew that he and Bucky could and would handle whatever came at them- together.

Tony smiled and drew Bucky in for another kiss. They’d deal with their problems later. For now, though, Tony was at his wedding and he wanted to enjoy the time with his new husband.

“What’s wrong?” Bucky asked, watching Tony’s thought process flit over his face. 

Tony squeezed his hands tight. “Nothing,” he said honestly. “Absolutely nothing at all.”

Chapter Text

“in time of daffodils(who know
the goal of living is to grow)
forgetting why,remember how

in time of lilacs who proclaim
the aim of waking is to dream,
remember so(forgetting seem)

in time of roses(who amaze
our now and here with paradise)
forgetting if,remember yes

in time of all sweet things beyond
whatever mind may comprehend,
remember seek(forgetting find)

and in a mystery to be
(when time from time shall set us free)
forgetting me,remember me”

- e. e. cummings