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His head was bowed. Long, dark hair obscured his face, but his identity was spared. The entire court knew his name, James. They had gathered to watch your mother dub him a knight of the kingdom, an especially impressive accomplishment.
His family was noble, from a young age he was trained with knighthood in mind. Even as a boy Bucky was exceptional, the weight of a sword in his hand felt more like a pen. He cut through the air in the royal courtyards with the ease and artistry of a well-practiced scribe. As he grew, his skill traveled by word of mouth. A soldier like no other. A war-winner. A king-killer.
Bucky doesn’t talk about the day they took him. Nor the things they did to shape him into their perfect weapon.
He stays quiet mostly, is grateful for his return home, and remains busy. You’d always thought maybe he would be better suited for a different life. Not that he wasn’t a competent swordsman, but he wasn’t exactly… violent. Even now you could catch him, late at night, spinning, slicing, shuffling across the smooth, stone floor with unmatched grace. If you didn’t know any better, you’d call it dancing.
But Bucky wasn’t a dancer, he was a fighter. This was what the kingdom required of him, and this is what he would continue to do. All things considered, the life of a royal soldier wasn’t a particularly terrible one. He lived well, ate well, had the finest weaponry gold could buy. The kingdom was fortunately wealthy, not on the brink of war like so many others. Bucky’s work mainly consisted of training. Until today.
The room hushed as the blade dipped gracefully over the curve of his shoulder.
“Arise, Sir James.” The words left your mother’s lips, loud and powerful, they filled the air of the room and turned ideas and concepts into fact and truth. Bucky stood, and bowed once more to the queen, who smiled.
“I swear to protect your son with my life, your majesty.” His voice was soft, solemn.
“I have nothing but faith in you, James.” The queen smiled at him once more before addressing the crowd.
—
Bucky thanked countless nobles for their attendance, hours of slight bows and polite conversation, a fake smile plastered semi-convincingly across his face. Each time you attempted to weave through the crowd, someone stopped you in your tracks. A cousin, or family friend, people you had never met before, all asking you questions and keeping you snared like a rabbit, stuck excruciating small-talk.
At last the festivities died down. All were pleasantly drunk, tired and ready to return to their beds for a long night of rest. The heavy, ornate doors finally shut, and you scanned the room for your knight. He sat, exhausted, in a deep crimson chair against the far wall. You rushed to his side and grabbed his wrist, pulling him to his feet. Bucky smiled at you. A real smile, as you grabbed his hand and drew him into a corridor away from the main hall. Quickly into one of a thousand spare rooms, you shut the door and softly as possible. He smiled at you, a hand on your waist as you turned to him, laughing under his breath.
“Been waiting patiently for a kiss, your highness?” You smiled and cupped his face in your hands, pressing your lips against his.
Bucky hummed softly, melting beneath you. You stole a breath once more before kissing him again, a little deeper this time. Gentle warmth cascaded through your body when Bucky’s lips met your jaw. He sighed softly, peppering kisses down your neck. You pressed your hand against his chestplate, leaning away from him and laughing.
“Bucky! That tickles!” You smiled at him, at the strands of hair that had fallen into his face.
“Is that an order?” He teased, a glimmer of defiance in his eyes.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” You teased back. He chuckled softly again, warm tones dusting his face.
“Maybe so.” He glanced out the window, sunlight seeping through the dusty glass. Suddenly he shifted, his face grew serious, concerned as he stepped into the light.
“What is it?” You asked, growing nervous. Bucky peered outside, hand resting on the hilt of his sword. After a couple silent seconds, he exhaled.
“Nothing, just… been tense lately.” You stepped up beside him and took his hand.
“You’re probably just anxious about all this… I mean, the knight of a prince, I can’t imagine the amount of pressure you feel.” Bucky nodded, brushing his hair out of his eyes.
“Yeah… I think you’re right.” He forced a smile. You could always tell when they were fake.
“Let's go upstairs. You deserve some rest after all your hard work and social interactions today.” Bucky laughed, a real smile this time.
“That sounds wonderful.”
The noises of the castle simmered into silence as you climbed the stairs together and slipped into your chambers.