Chapter Text
Bucky laid on his narrow cot and stared up at the ceiling.
He knew what he was. He knew what he was for. They’d been telling him since he’d been removed from his birth family at the age of four.
Sometimes, right on the edge of sleep, he thought he could remember his mother.
All for the greater good, they told him. Omegas were too rare and precious to risk on an unsheltered upbringing. The king, in his wisdom, kept the immature omegas apart from the rest of society; in his kindness, provided them with food and board and training; in his compassion, found alphas to care for them.
And if some of those alphas were supporters the king wished to reward, or allies the king needed to secure, well, that was the king’s right. All subjects existed to serve the king, and omegas more than most.
In the morning, Bucky would be delivered to his new alpha. He should sleep, so he wouldn’t look tired or unhappy for his alpha, but he couldn’t stop wondering who they were, what they would be like. What life would be like, away from the dorms and classrooms of the omega house.
The night seemed to stretch on forever, and yet it seemed no time at all before there came the sound of the key in the lock, and the door opened. “Get up, get dressed,” the dorm warden said, and then slammed the door shut again.
Bucky did as he was told. He knew what he was for.
The warden led him down the hall at a brisk walk, nearly a jog. He went straight past the dining hall where the other resident omegas were gathering for breakfast. That might be a mercy in disguise, Bucky thought - his stomach was roiling with nerves. If he ate, he might be in danger of throwing it up again right in front of his alpha.
Through the front hall and out the door. There was a carriage waiting for them on the street, and Bucky’s throat closed. The last time he’d come this way, it had been an outing with the whole house, heavily chaperoned, and they’d only walked a few blocks to a nearby park. He couldn’t remember ever being in a carriage before, unless maybe when he’d first come to the house.
The bench was padded, upholstered in velvet brocade; Bucky was almost afraid to muss it by sitting on it, but the warden shot him with a sharp look. “Stop wasting time,” he snapped, and Bucky hurriedly settled himself where he could look out through the narrow slit in the curtains over the window.
The carriage jolted into motion and Bucky watched as his sliver of view changed, showing the few houses and streets he knew. And then buildings and roads he’d never seen before. He wondered where they were going. Who his alpha would be.
With every turn of the carriage, Bucky held his breath, wondering if it would soon slow to a stop, but they kept going. And going. Finally, he couldn’t stand the suspense any longer. “Where are we going? Who...” He couldn’t quite bring himself to say the words aloud.
The warden cleared his throat. “Two years ago, the neighboring countries of Tarr and Eild made peace,” he said. “Last year, their rulers formed an alliance, sealing it with a marriage, the King of Tarr and a prince of Eild.”
Bucky knew that. He’d been a diligent student at lessons. “Yes, warden. I recall.”
“They are both alphas,” the warden said, “the marriage useless as more than a gesture. It needs an omega to legitimize it. And they have come seeking a treaty with us.”
The shock of realization was like a physical jolt. “Me? But-- Surely there are omegas in Tarr or Eild who would be better suited--”
“You will go where the king sends you,” the warden reminded him sternly. “How better to symbolize the treaty than by adding one of our own to their union? One who can provide what neither of the others can.”
Bucky bit his lip. “Yes, warden. If... If I may ask, who... Which of them will I be bound to?”
“Weren’t you listening?” the warden chided. “You will join the union, not replace it. You will belong to both of them.”
Bucky stared. Two alphas? How would that even work? How would he-- Cheeks flaming, he turned to look out the window again.
The rest of the ride passed in a blur, Bucky’s head whirling with questions that he knew would not be answered. At least it was long enough for him to recover his outward calm, mostly. Whatever happened, he would not shame his king or his country.
He knew what he was for.
He held that thought in mind as he was handed out of the carriage by a servant whose livery was finer than anything Bucky had ever thought to wear. As he and the warden were led into the cool stone halls of the palace. As they waited to be admitted and announced.
Finally, they were summoned.
The king was not there, and Bucky wasn’t sure whether to feel disappointed or relieved.
There were only three people in the room aside from Bucky and the warden: a huge blond man, clearly a warrior despite his fine clothes; a somewhat smaller man with dark hair and elegantly-shaped facial hair and a regal bearing; and a tall woman wearing the king’s livery who stood several steps from the two men.
The two men were talking in low, terse voices -- arguing, Bucky would have said, except that he couldn’t understand anything they were saying.
Barely halfway across the room, the scent of alpha slammed into him, so strong he nearly stumbled.
The woman said something in a language Bucky didn’t know, addressing the men. The warrior shifted his attention to her, frowning slightly. The other man looked at Bucky, dark eyes unreadable and measuring.
Bucky started to fidget, then forcibly stilled his hands and lowered his gaze. He parted his lips a little, breathing through his mouth so that constant barrage of alpha wouldn’t make him dizzy. Would it always be so strong? Stronger, even, in their own quarters? How did omegas function like this? He could barely remember his own name.
There was a pause, and the warden stepped forward. “Your Honors,” he said, “we are pleased to serve the king’s command, and to present you with this omega. He is of full growth and excellent health, and trained in the arts and services expected of his place.”
The woman spoke again -- translating, Bucky assumed. He risked another glance up, and they were both looking at him, now. The warrior’s frown had deepened, his lips pressed together in something like displeasure, and Bucky hurriedly looked down again.
The warden nudged Bucky another few nervewracking steps forward, and Bucky heard the sound of his own name mixed with the liquid syllables of the other language.
The translator turned to him. “I make you known to His Honor, Stephen, Prince of Eild--” She gestured toward the warrior. Bucky bowed as he’d been taught, and Prince Stephen’s forbidding expression softened somewhat. “--and consort to His Honor, Anthony, King of Tarr.” The sweep of her hand shifted. Bucky bowed again, slightly lower in deference to the higher rank. King Anthony’s eyes remained inscrutable, but there was a faint tick to the corner of his mouth. Bucky didn’t know whether that portended good or ill.
He would have to learn to read them, as he’d learned to read the wardens and the tutors at the omega house -- and quickly, because the stakes were even higher now. Wardens and tutors could punish, but until bonded to an alpha, omegas were property of the king. Once bonded, an omega’s life rested entirely in their alpha’s hands.
“...Your alphas,” the translator finished. She added another sentence or so in the other language -- Bucky wasn’t even certain if it was Eildish or Tarrian -- and then she stepped back a precise two lengths, bowed, and turned on her heel to leave.
“Don’t shame us,” the warden whispered harshly, and then he, too, was gone, and the heavy oaken door closed behind him, leaving Bucky alone with the two alphas.
Prince Stephen let out a gusty sigh and said something that sounded like a question.
King Anthony answered calmly, waving one hand as if in explanation.
Prince Stephen looked annoyed and began to speak, but King Anthony interrupted, his voice still low but tight with some emotion. The sweep of his arm unfolded toward... Bucky?
Bucky glanced behind him, but no one had come into the room. They were talking about him. Arguing, maybe? Trying to decide which of them would bond him first? (Was a double-bond even possible? Bucky didn’t know; he’d never heard of such a thing.) He swallowed hard. “Your Honors,” he started, and then stopped. What could he say? They didn’t even speak the same language.
King Anthony muttered something, then took three long strides that put him face-to-face with Bucky. He touched his own chest with the tips of his fingers and said something very brief.
“I’m, I’m sorry, I don’t understand.” Bucky glanced at Prince Stephen, who had come a little closer as well, not quite within reach, and then looked back at King Anthony. “I don’t--”
“Toh,” King Anthony said, very carefully, and then turned his hand over, as if in invitation. He watched Bucky expectantly.
“I-- I’m not--”
“Toh.”
“Toh?” Bucky repeated, confused and bewildered.
King Anthony smiled, then, and nodded. “Neh.”
Bucky glanced at Prince Stephen, watching patiently. “Neh?”
“Neh,” King Anthony stressed.
“Neh,” Bucky tried.
King Anthony’s nose scrunched a little, and he bobbed his head to one side and then shrugged. “Toh. Neh.”
“Toh. Neh.”
King Anthony grinned and nodded very fast. “Toh neh,” he said, pushing the syllables together.
They felt odd on his tongue, but Bucky tried it. “Toh neh.”
King Anthony nodded again. He tapped his chest and said, “Toh neh.” Then he touched his fingertips to Bucky’s chest, very lightly. “Dzems.”
Bucky blinked at him.
Prince Stephen laughed, and King Anthony shot him an exasperated look. “James,” Prince Stephen said, and it was accented but clear.
King Anthony rolled his eyes. “Dzems,” he repeated, as if it was perfectly reasonable, and Bucky realized he’d been trying to say Bucky’s name.
A giggle slipped out of Bucky’s throat and he clapped both hands over his mouth in horror.
But Prince Stephen laughed again, and King Anthony only snorted. He said something to Prince Stephen, rapidfire, with an impatient wave of the hand.
Prince Stephen touched Bucky’s shoulder. “James.” Then he touched King Anthony’s shoulder. “Toh-ny.” He pointed at himself. “Steve.”
Names. They were telling him their names, what they wanted him to call them.
Bucky couldn’t quite push himself to touch them, but he reached out and almost brushed the lapels of Prince Stephen’s elegant coat. “S-steef,” he tried. “Stevf.” It was harder to make the sound than he thought, but Prince Stephen -- Steve -- looked delighted.
Bucky turned back to King Anthony. “And you are Toh--nhe. Tony?”
A broad grin and another nod, and Bucky couldn’t help answering it with a small, proud smile of his own. Tony jabbered something to Steve, who grinned back and nodded.
It wasn’t much, but it was a start.
It might be a good sign that they weren’t standing on protocol, making him bow and scrape. That they were giving him what he had to assume were their personal use-names. Maybe, maybe, it would be all right. All he had to do was get through the bonding.
“I know you can’t understand me,” he said, and immediately Tony and Steve were looking at him again, unnerving in the intensity of their stares. “But are you going to-- How do you want to-- I don’t know how this works, really, but you’re the alphas, so...” He grabbed at the high collar of his shirt and tugged it down, trying to ignore the way his cheeks ached from blushing. “I’d rather have it over with,” he admitted.
Steve looked solemn. Tony’s eyes dragged over the unprotected skin of Bucky’s throat, then snapped back up again. “Steve,” he said, and then asked a question without looking away from Bucky’s face.
Steve coughed out something like a laugh, though he didn’t look amused at all. He shook his head, and even Bucky recognized the word for “no”.
Tony grimaced a little and nodded, as if he’d had an unpleasant suspicion confirmed.
He reached for Bucky, captured Bucky’s hand between both of his. “Dzem-- Dzayms,” he said carefully, trying to press his tongue into the unfamiliar shape of Bucky’s name. Whatever he said after that, Bucky had no idea what it was, other than very serious and full of concern. He wound it up with a tip to his head, questioning and hopeful.
“I have no idea what you said,” Bucky told him. He glanced at Steve, though what help he hoped to find there, he didn’t know.
Steve shook his head fondly at Tony, and stepped closer, close enough to touch, close enough for Bucky to feel the heat radiating off his skin. He slowly and gently curled his fingers over the side of Bucky’s neck. “Yes?” he said, accent thickly wrapping around the word. “No?”
Was Steve... asking whether Bucky wanted to bond? Bucky had never heard of alphas doing any such thing. For a wild instant, Bucky was tempted to say no, just to see what they would do -- but the alternative, at best, was for him to return to the omega dormitory, to sit his classes and while away the time until he was given to another alpha. Another alpha who was pretty much guaranteed to treat Bucky like an object. An alpha who definitely would not ask. Breathless, Bucky nodded. “Yes.”
Steve nodded and said something else, a quick bob of his head. And then his mouth replaced his hand on Bucky’s throat, lips dragging over the tender skin, tongue flicking against the sensitive gland.
“Dzayms,” Tony said, gently, and he was closer, now, his finger gently tapping Bucky’s chin, turning Bucky’s head to the side. Tony tapped his own cheek, just under his eye, and said something soft and soothing, as if Bucky were some kind of wild creature that had to be tamed and coaxed. Tony brushed his fingers lightly over Bucky’s hair, talking all the while.
Bucky wondered what Tony was saying. Once or twice, he caught Steve’s name in the mix, but Bucky couldn’t figure out whether Tony was talking to Steve or about Steve. He was so caught up in wondering at the meaning of Tony’s words, in watching the movement of Tony’s mouth, that he almost missed the brief, sharp pain when Steve bit down.
He stiffened, mouth falling open on a gasp.
“Shh, shh...” Tony stroked Bucky’s hair and face, murmuring soothingly until -- sooner than Bucky had expected -- Steve pulled away.
Steve’s eyes were wide, the pupils nearly eclipsing the clear azure as he stared at Bucky, dazed.
“Steve,” Tony said, and asked some question. Steve nodded in response, not able, apparently, to speak. Or even to look away from Bucky. Bucky couldn’t quite seem to pull his eyes from Steve, either. It was as if the entire world had rearranged itself with Steve at its center.
“Alpha,” he breathed.
Tony made a satisfied hum, then brushed his thumb along the line of Bucky’s jaw. “Dzayms?”
Bucky tried to turn his head to look at Tony, but his eyes stayed fixed on Steve.
Tony huffed softly and muttered something. “Yahs? Nho?”
The same thing Steve had asked, in an even broader accent. But Bucky had an alpha, now. He stared at Steve helplessly, not knowing what his alpha wanted him to do.
Steve smiled sweetly. “James,” he said, and pointed at Bucky.
Bucky nodded. “That’s me, I’m James.” He’d always hated the sound of his name, had stubbornly clung to his childhood nickname, but he thought he could learn to like the sound of it in his alpha’s mouth.
Steve’s mouth twisted a little, wry. He tapped Bucky’s chest, just over the heart. “Yes, no, Tony?” he tried. “Tony yes, Tony no? James yes, James no.”
His alpha wanted him to decide, apparently, whether to let Tony bond him, whether to admit Tony to their mating.
Bucky tore his eyes from his alpha to look at Tony, who was watching, waiting patiently. Tony would, apparently, abide by Bucky’s decision. Despite being alpha to Bucky’s omega; rich to Bucky’s poor, king to Bucky’s subject. Tony would obey him.
It rushed through Bucky like the wind of a summer storm, hot and rough, and he might have fallen if Steve’s arm hadn’t been holding him up. “Yes,” he panted in its wake. “Tony yes.”
Tony smiled, brushed his thumb over Bucky’s cheek again, and then pointed at Steve.
Bucky followed Tony’s finger and found himself ensnared in Steve’s eyes again.
Steve didn’t talk to him, as Tony had, but there was no need. Bucky was entranced by the play of light on his alpha’s face, the length of Steve’s eyelashes, the--
Tony bit down, and it hurt more this time, the skin already tender and sensitive. Bucky let out a wounded sound and Steve growled a little, said something sharp to... to Tony? Bucky hadn’t displeased his alpha?
Tony hummed and licked at Bucky’s neck, the sensation warm and soothing. Bucky sighed in relief and Steve’s expression softened.
Tony pulled away and Bucky glanced at him -- and was immediately enraptured. “Alpha?”
He glanced at Steve, but his instinctive pull toward Steve hadn’t faded at all. It just... pulled him toward Tony, too. He looked between them, one and then the other.
Two alphas. He had two alphas.
And they were both looking at him like a rare and precious jewel, like the last drop of water in the midst of a desert, like... like something that mattered.
He should kneel, or drop his gaze, show his deference. Instead, he laughed, holding out his hands until his alphas took them, smiling back at him. “My alphas,” he said, and it sounded right and good. He’d need to learn the Tarrian and Eildish words, to properly stand with his alphas. He’d need to learn the customs he was expected to follow, and -- well, almost everything, really.
But he wasn’t worried. His alphas were kind, and would help him; they were powerful, and would protect him.
He knew what he was for. But he’d never before realized that he didn’t have to do his duty alone.