Chapter Text
He can imagine the headlines the next morning: former bachelor of Delacroix, now engaged to a prince of the Brooklyn House – what does that mean for our kingdom now?
Sam fidgets, tugging at the family crest on his cufflinks in a hopeless attempt to get some fresh air under the stupid velvet suit he is wearing – who wears velvet in the goddamn summer?! – but it’s useless. At least it’s a good excuse for why he’s sweating so much, not the fact that he’s now engaged to a complete stranger.
“You okay?” Sarah whispers from the corner of her lips. She's standing beside him on the corner of the ballroom with a dress that keeps glittering under the chandeliers and sending beams of light into Sam’s eyes.
“Sure,” he says too fast, trying to sound nonchalant and failing by a mile. He clears his throat and looks away as he feels her turn to him.
“You can still go back,” she hisses, the trumpets ironically starting at that exact moment. Their parents rise on the dais and all the guests fall silent, turning towards the ballroom doors expectantly.
“No, I cannot,” he says through a smile he 100% doesn’t feel. “What part of us being under imminent threat is so hard for you to understand? Hydra is at our borders.”
And what a terrible conversation to be having at that moment. No one wants what happened to the people of Brooklyn to happen to them – Hydra attacking and taking over their city, sending the Brooklyn Royals running for their lives.
Fortunately, as the less important members of the royal family, Sam and his sister are far enough from the crowd and their parents to be heard, while everyone else pays attention to the announcement of Prince Rogers of Brooklyn and his House's arrival.
“There has to be another way. Have you not heard about this House?!”
And here they go again. Sam is almost curious to know what piece of gossip she has on them this time. So they're known to be violent and have weird customs, so what? It probably happens when you go from court-bound royalty to nomadic life at a young age.
“They’re warriors, who had their kingdom taken from them and their families killed." Sam says, "Of course they’re going to be odd.”
“That's a nice day to say they're savages.”
“Doesn't matter. This wedding is going to elevate the Brooklynites status as a Kingdom and they'll have a place to stay in our settlement.”
Of course, all Delacroix needed was their manpower. The wedding was clearly offering no chance of an offspring in this alliance, and Brooklyn only needed a chance at a bigger army to take their city back from Hydra.
“At what cost? Your safety?”
He couldn’t really dismiss Sarah’s concern.
He had seen how hard it had been for her to pretend to be okay with her boring ass husband in the beginning. She had to learn a good amount of temper control to deal with his dismissive attitude and quiet side – at least until they sort of found affection for each other along the way.
Of course, on Sam’s end, it was mostly dealing with the possibility of his husband having the urge to kill him in his sleep.
“I’ll be fine,” he comforts her as she tries not to scowl at the House’s entrance into the ballroom. “I can deal with whatever comes my way.”
And what was coming his way was a bunch of overly muscled people who wore furred long jackets instead of suits to a formal betrothal ceremony, and with two lines of white paint sliding over one eye.
Sam had been present when Commander Ross convinced his father that the way they dress is part of their culture and should be accepted – it would even sound nice if Sam wasn't aware that Ross only wants the Brooklyn army under his control.
He was sort of the reason this arrangement was even made.
“What’s coming your way looks like it’s going to kill you.”
And to be fair, Sarah is right. Because while Prince Rogers and other members of the House were greeting all the members of the Wilson family, this one guy is marching their way, with focused intent in his eyes - his hair floating with his steps because why put gel in it? - making people jump out of his way.
Sam stands straighter and steps a little forward in a weak attempt to position himself between him and Sarah.
“Oh God please, don’t annoy him,” she whispers behind him.
His family barely spared a glance to see if he's fine. After all, what matters in the end is pleasing Prince Rogers, so Sam’s only job is to make sure his future husband is happy so the arrangement can go on… or have their entire kingdom overtaken by Hydra. No pressure.
“You’re Prince Samuel,” the guy greets, no etiquette at all.
“Yes,” Sam bows his head politely.
The guy holds up a gloved hand, asking for his, and says in a rough, deep voice, “Duke James Buchanan Barnes, next in line to the Brooklyn Royal House. I’m going to be your husband.”
Whoa, now. Wait a minute!
Sam takes a deep breath to avoid blurting out what the fuck as a first instinct. He turns to the dais and, while Commander Ross is there shaking Prince Rogers’ hand and nodding frenetically, his father's eyes are on them – he gives Sam a calm nod.
When had the plans changed?!
“Brave of you to come here directly,” Sam mutters, unable to hold himself back.
He hesitates only half a second before putting his hand in the offered one, surprised by how gently it’s held instead of some macho power-move handshake people like to try as if to challenge Sam's status.
In fact, this guy actually pulls Sam’s hand up and, bowing slightly, touches the back of Sam’s hand to his forehead. That’s… a weird greeting, but he'll allow it.
He pulls his hand back, hoping he doesn’t look as embarrassed as he feels – after all, that was almost like kissing a woman’s hand, and Sam does not need to be treated like that.
“I think it’s way more important to meet my fiancé first than to please anyone else,” The duke says simply.
Sam purses his lips, damn straight he doesn't say.
Beside him, he’s sure Sarah is ticking 'disrespectful asshole' on her mental list of his future husband’s personality flaws.
At last, Duke Barnes turns to Sarah and greets her too, bringing her hand to his forehead as well. Sarah is professional enough to tell him he’s welcome in the family and all those lies.
Sam looks back at this creepy guy in front of him and feels anxious because this is the guy he’s going to have to spend the rest of his life with, maybe even sleep with if the man wants to, because all Sam is here to do is please him.
Marriage is really important in their society, especially for royalty – it means status and stability for the kingdom.
So from now on, Sam won’t be the most desired prince in all the ballrooms, on magazine front pages with paragraphs about his fashion choices and how close he was talking to King T’Challa at another party.
No.
He’s going to be the unruly Brooklynite's arm candy, adapting to a whole new culture because who knows what will happen in the future, where his new husband wants to go, what wars might start, which places they’ll have to visit or live in.
Sarah is right, Sam is sacrificing himself.
"Why am I not marrying Prince Rogers anymore?” Sam asks.
He has to know what’s happening at least.
“Did you want Prince Rogers?” Duke Barnes lifts an eyebrow. “In my humble opinion, you got the good looking cousin.”
Funny guy…
But he may be right. He’s way more Sam’s type.
That doesn’t answer the question though, and the more Sam thinks about it, the more wrong it feels.
“Doesn’t seem right that the Prince, as your leader, would give up his right to make decisions for his people and hand them to you.”
Sarah not-so-subtly nudges him with her elbow. Don’t annoy him, she had said.
Duke Barnes doesn’t seem angry. Well, okay, he doesn’t look happy either, but none of them are, and if he can ignore social norms to come talk to Sam directly, he can answer some questions.
“He trusts me,” is the half-assed answer.
Sam is kind of happy when Sarah’s dress moves in a way that makes its glitter send laser-like light into Barnes’ eyes and he winces, looking away, basically using his hair to shield his face – it totally breaks the stoic posturing he was going for.
Then, to make it even more hilarious, he turns a chilling glare at the dress and grunts, “Why?!”
Sam has to bite his lip not to burst out laughing as Sarah opens her mouth in offense.
“I-I didn’t choose it,” she sends Sam a desperate look, sees the amusement in his eyes, and frowns angrily. “If you’ll excuse me.”
Then she grabs her dress and walks away.
Sam takes a calming breath and tries to look princely again.
“I know this may be an inconvenience to you," Duke Barnes sighs." But I promise I’ll try to be the best partner I can.”
Yeah, that sounds like something someone who wouldn’t keep that promise would say.
Against his better judgment, Sam decides to test this guy.
“I love this song,” Sam lies, smirking. “Let’s dance.”
He ignores the way the duke flinches when Sam reaches for his hand. At first he thinks the man may have had an instinctive reaction to attack him when he saw Sam move, but as he tugs Barnes to the dance floor, he feels the why – under the glove, the hand is hard and cool. It’s made of metal.
“Oh, you don’t know how?” Sam blinks innocently. Some of it is for the cameras flashing at them, but a bigger part is Sam trying to annoy him, although he genuinely doesn’t know if Barnes can dance.
He was probably a teenager when Brooklyn was invaded – time enough to learn but also time enough to forget.
But Barnes rolls his eyes and lets Sam guide him to the middle of the dance floor. Here, Sam grabs Barnes by the waist and takes a charging position, staring up at him to see how offended that makes him. But the duke barely reacts, his stare is blank.
“You don’t trust me,” Barnes states the obvious. Give this guy an award for awareness!
“I’m not sure what your intentions are with my kingdom.”
“There are no intentions. Our people need shelter and food, that’s reason enough.”
“Sure,” Sam says, unconvinced.
“A pampered kid like you wouldn’t understand.”
Sam flashes him an angry look, scowling. How dare he?!
“A pampered kid like me knows there’s always an ulterior motive in political arrangements. You changed the original arrangement. I should be marrying the prince in a week, you changed it for a reason.”
Barnes’ eyebrows twist in a frown – zero poker face. “For us a marriage is a deeply important union between two people, something done out of true love and devotion. If I’m giving my only choice of happiness to a person who won’t ever know what true suffering is, I think I can keep my reasons.”
The gall of this guy!
“Marriage is important to us too.”
“No, it’s not. This arranged method is normal to you, not to me.”
“And I’m sacrificing my happiness here too, and if you want me to understand you, enlighten me! Because that’s exactly what I’m asking.”
“You’ll do better if you keep looking pretty in your corner instead of worrying about that.”
Barnes must have known that he annoyed Sam enough for him to plan to stomp on his goddamn shoe ‘accidentally’, because when Sam tries, Barnes spins and throws him the other away – there’s a split second where Sam's sure the duke is going to let go of his hand and make him stumble face-first into the ballroom floor. But then he’s being pulled back just as quickly, and as Sam tries to catch his breath, his feet automatically keeping up the pace, he realizes Barnes changed their roles – now he’s the one with a steady hand on Sam’s waist, guiding the dance.
“Do that again and I’m going to kill you,” Sam croaks.
He totally shouldn’t be threatening his fiancé, but of course, the guy is hardly threatened. He smiles at him like that’s funny, and Sam hates the fact he actually finds Mr. Spooky’s smile cute.
On a positive note – if there could be one, Sam likes to think of himself as a positive person – he doesn’t think he’ll have much to worry about being married to the guy. After all, if they both agree they don’t like each other and are doing this for all the other motives, Sam won’t have to pretend to be nice to him in close quarters or, worse, in the same bed. God maybe he’s not even into men in general.
Barnes doesn’t seem like the kind of person who hides who he is, and for Sam, that’s a good thing.
He steps away from Barnes as soon as the music ends and they share a look that is not exactly disdain but isn’t friendly either. Barnes excuses himself and finally steps away to greet the rest of Sam's family.
Sam gets a look of disapproval from his parents as if he already offended the Brooklynite, which is unfair. He hardly said what he could have said, and Barnes was barely nice back! Sam deserved answers to his questions, and guess what? He didn’t get them. Again, he’s just a tool in something he can’t even have an opinion about.
He decides to mingle before letting his anger eat him alive, not because he wants to talk to people that much, but because he already knows he has to answer everyone’s curious questions and cut out some rumors at the root immediately.
Yes, I’m happy with the marriage. Oh yeah, he looks spooky but was actually really charming. Well, it’s nice to conjoin our family with a different culture. Lies, lies, lies.
And sure, not-so-subtle jabs are thrown behind his back, and even some indirect jokes right in his face: shouldn’t have taken so long to marry, poor Prince Samuel, or Oh hey Sam, congratulations on marrying a homeless man ah ah ah.
Tasteless pieces of shit. Why does he have to smile and nod at people who mean nothing to him? Oh right, he’s supposed to be the nice and humble prince.
And to make matters worse, his parents tell him he has to receive Barnes on his little house – something about getting to know his future husband like it would change anything. "
Thank fuck we’re leaving,” is the first thing Barnes says when he catches Sam at the door, the curse word catching him by surprise. “Why do people keep trying to figure out which one is going to top in bed? They keep calling sex ‘snuggling’? I’m traumatized.”
Sam covers a snort with his hand, and Barnes gives him a curious look.
“I hope you said it was me,” Sam huffs, showing Barnes the way through the corridors.
“Isn’t it too soon for us to sleep in the same bed?”
Sam’s eyes go wide. “No! Yes! Not the same bed. No, what? My quarters have more than one bedroom, you wish.”
There’s a smile tugging at the corners of Barnes’ mouth, which is just annoying. Sam starts marching towards the garden on the far side of the palace.
“I don’t know what’s so funny.”
“You’re cute when you’re mad.”
“You’re cute when you’re quiet, so let’s both stay that way.”
They cross the garden to the building that makes Sam’s home. It’s an old waiters' house with three bedrooms upstairs and a living room with a kitchenette below. He chose it for himself because it’s attached to the greenhouse no one really uses, and the forest on the other side has several species of birds.
He loves the peacefulness of it.
Inside, is a much more personal matter as he realizes Barnes can now see the posters of his favorite movies on the wall, the records of his favorite music, and the superhero cushions on his couch.
It all feels a little ridiculous.
But Barnes gives a curious look around and the only thing he has to say is, “Lacks security.”
Great.
At least that’s better than judging his childish choices.
“Don’t make yourself at home. You have a room upstairs just for yourself, and there’s a line there where you can call to ask for anything you might need – food, a ride, what time it is – they’ll do that.”
“Of course you have…”
Sam ignores him and walks up to his room. He should be trying to be nice, but he ran out of niceties.
He closes the door and rests against it, closing his eyes as he lets the anxiety that had been building up completely overwhelm him.
He’s marrying in a week to a complete stranger, now living in his most sacred place – a place he’s closer and closer to losing.
This doesn’t feel right. He doesn’t feel right.
What has become of his life?