Let's Go on Dreaming

i. 

It wasn’t like Bucky asked to be a dame in a tower that needed to be rescued by Prince Charming. Well, Princess, he supposed.  

Okay, sure, he lived in a modest house in the middle of the enchanted forest, but it was a family home, and his parents had moved out ages ago, leaving it to him. And, okay, he could talk to animals, but really only one, and he hadn’t asked for this bird to sit on his shoulder one day and say his name was Sam and then refuse to leave. He surely hadn’t wanted to wake up one morning to find a troll knocking on his door and trying to enchant him. Well, enchant and then kidnap to boil him over a kettle or whatever it was that trolls did these days. It was so hard to keep up with. 

He sent it away with a cup of his mama’s famous flower flour, magnolia tea, and the promise to keep in touch with his mama’s recipes. 

“Okay, now that that’s over with.” He clapped his hands together and returned to sweeping out the main floor. He respected his grandparent’s desire to live in a tree, but the mess was incredible. If it wasn’t the leaves, it was acorns, or pollen, or the seeds. It was beautiful, but the upkeep was horrendous. 

Sam flew down from the top of the dresser and perched on the handle of his broom. “How’s your mother going to feel when she visits and I tell her you keep giving away her secret recipes? Can’t open a bakery if everyone can make the exact thing at home.” 

Bucky grabbed the broom and started vigorously sweeping the floor. There were other things he wanted to get done today. Dust particles floated in patches of sunlight. “She’ll be delighted,” he said dryly. “It keeps me from being kidnapped—oh, now what?” 

It wasn’t so much a knock as it was a boom, and the door to his house flew clean off the hinges, narrowly missing him and destroying the dress form he’d purchased from the local tailor earlier that week. A large hand darted in, grabbed Bucky around the waist, and dragged him out. 

“If you want my mama’s cake recipes, all you have to do is ask,” Bucky yelled at the giant. “I have no qualms giving them out. Or, if you want clothes, I can make you something.” 

The giant either couldn’t understand him or didn’t care, and the hand around his waist tightened to the point of being painful. Sam flew around its head, trying to jab at its eyes, but it waved its hand, and Sam narrowly missed getting hit out of the sky. 

Bucky tried reaching for the knife in his belt, but the grip on him was so tight he could barely move. His ribs creaked. “I can get you items, too, if you need them!” he yelled. “I can be very persuasive. Ingredients, or home items, whatever you need, really. I can either get them or find someone who knows someone. I can get my hands on anything you might need!” 

The giant kept walking. Bucky’s home was miles away now, each stride clearing a quarter of a mile. They were heading towards the mountains. Deep fear pierced his heart. He’d grown up on stories about the things that happened within those rocky peaks. People who went in there came out changed. Or, they didn’t come out at all. 

“Or, I can get you an audience with the King!” he shouted desperately. “I’m sure you have qualms with the kingdom like everyone. I can get you an audience where you can air it out. Maybe we can go together! I have quite a laundry list of things to bring up to him—the poverty in the north, for one. Why should he and his niece sit pretty in their castle while everyone else starves? So really, we’re on the same side!”

The hand around his waist tightened again. 

And then the giant roared, and Bucky fell. Strong arms caught him, and Bucky was blinded by blonde hair and blue eyes. The giant roared again, and Bucky heard shouts, the ringing of steel, and the pounding of hooves. It soon faded to silence. Bucky still hadn’t looked away. 

“You alright, honey?” his savior asked. 

Bucky could only nod. His head pounded, and his waist was surely bruised from the giant’s grip. “I-I think so,” he managed after a minute. A cloud covered the sun, and the glow around them faded some. Bucky blinked. Beneath him, her horse shifted. “Princess,” he breathed. 

She smiled, her eyes crinkling in mirth. “You can call me Angie,” she said. 

Bucky tried to swallow. The lump in his throat made it difficult. She was beautiful, her hair perfectly curled and lustrous, lips elegant and bowed. In all his years of travel, he didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone like her. His mama had told stories of love at first sight; he hadn’t believed her until now. 

Her smile grew. “And you are?” 

“Oh, um, James.” He shook his head. “Bucky. My friends call me Bucky.” 

A perfect eyebrow arched, and she laughed. “And you’d like us to be friends?” 

Heat rushed to his cheeks. “Is it too forward?” 

“Or not forward enough.” Her eyes twinkled. Dappled sunlight filtered through the trees, and the air smelled of wildflowers. 

Bucky swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Thank you for saving me, Pri—Angie.” 

“My pleasure, Bucky.” 

Bucky didn’t know when one of her hands had slid into his hair, but he wasn’t complaining. He hadn’t taken his gaze away from hers once. He’d never seen a blue so crystal clear. Bucky hadn’t asked to be saved, but he was alright with it. His mama would be delighted. She always asked when he planned on settling down and starting a family. There’d always been too much to do. There’d never been the right person.

The clattering of hooves pulled them from their reverie. Bucky was quite sure they’d been about to kiss. 

“Princess, all signs point to the giants encroaching upon the Kingdom,” a man said. He wore leather armor. The right shoulder was embossed with a giant eagle with its wings outstretched. His horse snorted and pranced nervously. “By the mess they’ve made, it appears they don’t intend to respect the boundary. It also looks like they’ve gathered weapons. The worrying part, though, is that from the looks of it, they’re working with the ogres as well.” 

Angie looked grim. “Good work, Lieutenant Sousa. Follow them and have someone report back at nightfall. But don’t take any unnecessary risks. We’ve lost enough men as it is.” 

“You’re not coming with us?” 

Angie looked back at Bucky. “I have to return him to his home, and then I have other matters I must attend to.” 

Go home? But Bucky had just found her! How was he supposed to return to his life now that he knew she was out there? 

“Of course, Princess. Stay safe.” And he was gone. 

“Go home?” Bucky mumbled. “But what if—” 

“Just for you to grab some things,” Angie soothed. “Giants are smart, cunning. They chose you for a reason. I’ll take you back to the castle. You’ll be safe there.”

“And you’ll be there?” Bucky asked hopefully. He’d forgotten all about his curses towards the King when in the giant’s mighty hand. 

Angie smiled, her eyes twinkling again. “Yes. I’ll be there.” 

“Then let’s go.” 

They returned to Bucky’s home, and his heart broke when he saw the mess. The door and hinges were splintered beyond repair. The blast had also knocked over the table, shattered vases and shelves, and broke the dress form. He dropped to his knees and picked up a frame, tugging the family drawing from the broken glass. Carefully folding it, he slipped it into his pocket. 

“I’m sorry,” Angie murmured, standing by his shoulder after surveying the damage. “I can send someone to fix it up if you’d like. My uncle’s master carpenter, perhaps.” 

Bucky shook his head. The damage was done. “It wouldn’t be the same. I couldn’t stay knowing someone else—” His great-grandparents had carved the home. “I’ll have to do it, or else find somewhere else to live.” 

The lump in his throat surprised him. He swallowed painfully and looked away from the table hewn by his father. Bucky had helped. The place he’d carved his initials was gone, reduced to splinters by the giant’s rough hand. 

Angie put a warm hand on his shoulder. “You’re welcome to stay at the castle for as long as you need. That is—if you’d like. My uncle wouldn’t mind.” 

They were close now, their noses almost brushing. Everything about her was intoxicating. Bucky found himself leaning forward, drawn by the scent of wildflowers around her.

“I wouldn’t mind,” he whispered. 

Angie smiled and closed the gap between their lips. 

ii.

The castle in person was much different than the castle from afar. It was bigger, for one thing. Growing up, Bucky always thought the stone was grey, but now came to realize it was obsidian. The sunlight glinted off it like an oil spill. It was beautiful in its own way. The longer he looked, the more he could see the rainbow glinting within. Angie pulled him along with a knowing smile. 

Bucky had never felt more out of place than he did walking through the foyer. Its ceilings stretched high above them, supported by graceful arches and columns. Bright sunlight filtered through high windows. If he closed his eyes and stopped in a patch of light, he could almost believe he was back home. All that was missing was the wind through the trees and bird song. A fresh pang of grief passed through him.

 The longer they walked, the more he grew increasingly aware of the state he was in. His hair was tangled, the scrapes on his cheek had started to sting, and his clothes were tattered. He wrapped his arms around himself.

Angie glanced at him. “Rollins, find our guest a cloak,” she commanded to a passing guard. “A red one, if you would.” He nodded and disappeared. When he returned, he carried lush red fabric in his arms. He passed it over, bowed, and returned to his post. 

Angie pulled Bucky to a stop and wrapped the cloak around his shoulders. “My uncle,” she said as she fastened the clasp, “is an eccentric man. He’s a collector of sorts. You would do well to entertain his—” she hesitated, searching for the best word. “Hobbies. But try not to stare.” 

“What—” 

“Princess!” Lieutenant Sousa walked toward them, his gate uneven. He leaned heavily on a cane.

“You’ll do fine. Trust me.” She smoothed the fabric on Bucky’s shoulders. Her eyes were serious. “You trust me, right?” 

“With my life,” Bucky whispered. The scent of wildflowers enveloped him. He felt drunk on it. 

“All you have to do is ask him for a place to stay,” Angie continued. “Tell him you lost your home and nearly lost your life. Tell him I brought you. He’ll give you a room.” 

“Aren’t you coming with me?” Bucky asked, bewildered. 

Angie looked over to the lieutenant. “There are things I must attend to. But I will find you later, I promise.” 

Bucky grabbed her wrist, his heart doing its best to beat out of his chest. “Angie, I’m just a common forest dweller. I can’t—how am I—” 

“What common forest dweller bargains for his freedom with a cake recipe? It’s not like you’re asking for my hand in marriage.” Her eyes sparkled, and she raised herself on her tiptoes to kiss him. “My uncle will love you. Now go. I’ll find you before dinner.” 

Terrified beyond anything, he let her push him toward the ornate doorway at the end of the hall. Her scent of wildflowers trailed after him. 

Two guards stood on either side of the door. Their armor was leather, like the lieutenant's, but it was black rather than a soft brown. They crossed their spears to block his path the closer he came.   

“State your business,” the taller of the two commanded. His voice was deep but thin. Bucky could easily make a tea to help him with that: eucalyptus and lemon, with just a dollop of honey. A sprig of lavender to help calm him. 

He remembered the feel of Angie’s lips against his and drew his shoulders back. “I lost my home in a giant attack. I’ve come to petition the King for a room.” 

“The King is busy at the moment. You’ll need to return at a later date.” 

Indignance flashed through Bucky. “The Princess told me her uncle would see me.” 

The guards looked at each other. “Did she give you the cloak?”  

Bucky nodded.

“One moment,” the tall one said. He disappeared into the room behind him. The remaining guard said nothing. There was an emblem pressed into the left shoulder pad of his armor. Something with tentacles. 

“The King will see you.” 

Bucky remembered Angie’s reassuring smile, and as if his thoughts had conjured her, the scent of wildflowers engulfed him. He would do this for her. For them. He would do anything for her. Drawing the cloak around him, he straightened his spine and walked into the throne room. The door closed behind him with an echoing thud. 

Angie walked down the hallway with Sousa limping steadily at her side. One of her uncle’s guards passed them, dipping his head in respect. She held up her hand, and he stopped. 

“No one is to enter this wing without my permission for the next hour,” she said. “You will be stationed outside. If you enter, you’ll have me to answer to.” 

“Yes, Princess.” 

“Are you sure it’s wise to have your uncle’s men standing guard?” Sousa asked when they were safe within an empty chamber. 

“They will hear what I want them to hear,” she said. “Now tell me everything.” 

“No, you first tell me!” he exclaimed. “You said you were done with this! Why are you giving your uncle another?” 

“You know why,” Angie hissed. “It distracts him. And if there’s any hope of finding her, I’m not giving that up. She went through that portal for the cause. I’m not giving up on her. Now tell me what you learned!” 

If Bucky thought the grand foyer was impressive, it was nothing compared to the throne room. The entirety of it was stained by the glass that covered the walls. Bucky almost expected to taste roses as he breathed in the tinted air. 

His eyes slid from the throne to a case on his right. He forced his attention back to his destination. Every few steps, something else drew his eye. He glanced at the throne and still found himself alone. 

Bucky could only describe the contents as trophies. A red skull and the head of a hydra were the most impressive, but it was the arm of metal that sent a chill down his spine. 

“Do you like them?” 

Bucky jumped away from the case holding a translucent blue cube. Dressed in rich dark purple velvet and dark leather, King Alexander Pierce looked every bit the esteemed King he claimed to be. A heavy crown sat on his brow, and the deep lines across his face spoke of the trials he’d endured. But it was his eyes, pale blue and icy, that Bucky couldn’t look away from. 

“Your majesty,” he stammered, remembering his manners enough to bow deeply. If he could forget his qualms long enough to secure a room, everything would work itself out. 

“At ease, son.” 

Bucky bowed a second longer and righted himself. “I didn’t mean to pry; I just—” 

The King waved away his fumbling apology. “What is a collection for if not to be admired?” The glass protecting the cube fell away, and he picked it up. Fractals of light scattered across the room. “The people who gave me this called it the Tesseract. They believed it could open a door between worlds.” His voice was warm and captivating, like liquid amber. 

“Did it work?” Bucky asked, fascinated. He’d studied glass blowing once as a young boy, and the Tesseract looked as fragile as the colored bulbs he’d crafted. 

The King laughed. Bucky had never heard a sound like it. It trickled warm down his spine. “If it did, do you think it would be behind glass?” He set the cube back and patted Bucky on the shoulder. “Now come, tell me what brings you to admire my collection?” 

“The giants are ready to mount an attack,” Sousa said. “They want you to lead them.”

“I can’t lead them!” Angie ran a hand through her curls. “My uncle thinks he’s close. He won’t leave this to chance. If this is going to work, I need to spend as much time with Bucky as possible.” 

“She’s gone, Angie!” Sousa slammed a fist down on the table and then took a deep, calming breath. “Believe me, I miss her, too. But she’s gone. We need you here, focused. Let your uncle be distracted by his fool’s quest. The sooner we end this, the better. Now are you with us?”  

Any nerves or misgivings Bucky had melted away the longer he heard the King speak. “A giant attacked and destroyed my home,” he said. “I was saved by your niece, and she brought me here to petition for a room. I’m willing to work for my board. I can tailor or make tinctures for minor ailments. I’m even quite handy with physical labor.” 

The King waved his hand and smiled. “Thoughtful, but not necessary. You’re a guest. But there is one question I must ask you: the cloak, is it yours or from the castle?” 

“From the castle. Angie—the Princess—had it brought for me.” 

The smile grew. “Thoughtful of her. Now come, I’ll show you to your room, and we can get to know each other a bit more. I like to know my guests.” 

Angie looked at Sousa, her thoughts running faster than she could hope to catch. Her mind knew he was right. Her heart prayed he was wrong. 

“I will lead the attack,” she told him. “We should have time before my uncle sends Bucky through. But I will spend as much time with him as I can. I refuse to give up hope. I love her, Daniel.” 

Sousa sighed and sank into a chair. “I know, but sooner or later, you need to accept that she’s dead. She would want you to move on.” 

“And she would know I never could.” She sat down as well and put her hand on his arm. “All of this started because of her. She truly opened my eyes to the man my uncle was. If we lose sight of that—if we lose sight of hope—what do we have left?”

iii.

Bucky lay on the floor, staring at the vaulted ceiling of his new room in a daze. He was positive he was in a dream. Any minute now, Sam would perch on his window sill just out of reach of his fist and holler at him to wake up.  Some birds sang a pretty song—Sam screamed. 

The singular room was larger than his entire house. The bed was luxurious, and the carpet was so plush he’d be able to sleep on it just fine. And the views? He could see the entire valley from here, well into the mountain passes that his mother had set her warnings around. Would the giant who tried to kill him this morning be among them now? 

He and the King had spoken for over an hour as he was shown around the castle. Pierce had told him of adventures he’d had as a young boy; his favorite had been about one furnace that had burned for nine hours without being stoked. In return, Bucky explained the times he’d bartered with tea or cakes for safety. The King smiled through them. 

Bucky couldn’t remember enjoying speaking to someone more. Truth be told, he didn’t have many people to talk to. He had Sam if he deigned to listen. A few travelers sought him out when they passed through the forest. For the most part, though, he was alone. Pierce had asked him questions and listened to him, and Bucky wanted to talk to him. So deep in a story, Bucky hadn’t even realized they’d stopped walking until Pierce had needed to excuse himself. 

“If I weren’t King, we’d speak until dinner, and then through the meal, and perhaps until sleep took us, but alas, there are duties awaiting me,” he’d said, waving away Bucky’s apologies with a laugh. 

But he’d also said Angie would fetch him, and that had sent his toes curling in delight. 

Until then, he just had to wait. 

He stared at the ceiling for another minute before the need to move overcame him. He couldn’t sit and do nothing. Doing nothing in the forest had amounted to sitting in his armchair and mending trousers, or baking a tray of cookies for anyone who wanted to stop by, or sweeping out his kitchen, or arguing with Sam over the correct use of the word preemptory.  

He was darning a pair of socks he’d found tucked away in a drawer when there was a knock on his door, and Angie let herself in. Either Bucky had forgotten her beauty, or time had increased it. She was radiant in a dress of blue silk. 

“Princess,” he breathed, bowing low. 

Angie giggled. “Is a brief separation enough for you to forget my name?” 

“Speaking with your uncle was,” Bucky replied, righting himself.  

“Maybe this will help you remember.” She stepped forward until their chests touched and cupped his cheek. Her lips were just as soft as he remembered, and he felt drunk on her scent. 

“Princess,” he whispered, hoping for more. She swatted his chest. 

“This isn’t what you’re thinking of wearing to dinner, is it?” she asked, frowning. 

Bucky looked at his torn and dirty tunic. It had been one of his finest, and what little clothes he had been able to save were in similar conditions. “This is all I have.” 

“You think there is nothing for you to wear here? You must have looked around to find the socks, though I don’t dare to guess who those once belonged to.” 

Without waiting for him to answer, she walked over to the armoire and rifled through the clothing there. She was quiet the entire time she dressed him, lost deep in thoughts. Bucky didn’t disturb her. 

“There,” she murmured, tying the cloak back around his neck. “Now you look befitting for dinner with my uncle.” 

Bucky stared at himself in the mirror, trying to adjust the leather doublet without success. The black straps across his stomach were uncomfortable and the cuff was tight around his throat. A red star was etched on the left shoulder. 

“To dinner?” he asked, pulling her from her thoughts. 

She nodded and smiled. “To dinner.” 

He offered her his arm, and together, they went. 

Dinner was divine. Conversation flowed, and when cajoled by his niece, the King stayed for tea and a game of cards. All the while, stories were passed around like flowing wine. He told Bucky a tale of when he’d gone off to war as a teen; he’d been seventeen, his sword had rusted, and his longing for comforts were so great that his homecoming was greater than winning the battle of daybreak itself. 

By the night’s end, Bucky knew the King to be the greatest man to ever live. 

“Just yesterday, you were complaining how his policies completely screw over the poor and benefit the rich, like him and his niece.” Sam perched on the window sill. Behind him, the last light of the sun turned to purple shadow as it slipped behind the horizon. “And now you worship the ground he walks on?” 

“His ways are a little strange, but if you listen to him speak, everything makes sense. It’s clear.” 

“What’s clear is that the giant inflicted some damage on your critical thinking skills because you’re not usually this stupid.” Sam fluttered onto his head and pecked at his skull. “Still thick as ever, though.” 

Bucky swatted him away. “No one asked for your opinion, Sam.” 

“Which is a damn right shame, as mine is the best around.” 

Angie came and kissed him goodnight. He dreamt of her. 

iv.

“Ah, James, good. I was just looking for you.” 

Bucky had been in the palace for a week now. If he hadn’t loved Angie already, there was no turning back now. They’d spent every minute they could together. He was going to marry her. Of that, he was certain. He just had to figure out how he was going to ask. 

He stopped walking and allowed the King to match him step for step. When they reached a garden, he motioned for the guards to leave. Bucky sat beside him on an ornate stone bench. 

“How is your time here treating you?” Pierce asked. He wasn’t wearing heavy leather or his crown today, but his mere presence spoke of command. 

“It’s more than I could’ve ever hoped for,” Bucky replied honestly. “It’s beautiful here.”  The garden was the least ornate he’d seen, but it would still put any nobleman’s yard to shame. Flowers of every type and color bloomed, pollinated by the host of butterflies and bees hovering around. “But I must apologize.” 

Pierce raised an eyebrow. “Oh?” 

“I had spoken ill of you before the Princess invited me here to petition my right to stay, and it sits heavy on my heart. You’re not the man I previously believed you to be, and I’m sorry for ever thinking otherwise.” 

Above him, leaves rustled, and Sam flew away. 

Pierce smiled. “It gladdens me to hear you say such things, James. It would be unfortunate if my nephew thought poorly of me.” 

“Nephew?” 

The King laughed. Bucky sank into the sound. It wasn’t Angie’s peal, but it drew him in just the same. “As much as I enjoy our conversations, James, it can’t all be for pleasure. If you’re going to marry my niece, because oh, yes, she is going to ask you for your hand, you need to prove yourself. I’m not just going to hand the crown over to anyone. She may have the power, but people still look to the King.” 

Him, King. He could enact change. Sam couldn’t oppose that. Even if Angie ruled, he would still have the power to change policies and help his people. As a common forest dweller, he couldn’t do anything. But as King? 

“So, my question to you is this, James,” Pierce continued. Bucky’s heart pounded. Sweat coated his palms. “How much do you love her? How far are you willing to go to prove your loyalty to not just her but me?” 

Bucky swallowed. Sam flew in circles above them. “To the end of time, to the end of the earth. Whatever I have to do to earn your blessing, I’ll do. I love her.” 

Pierce smiled. “I’d hoped to hear that. Listen closely.” 

v.

Sam had known the Princess was trouble the moment she spirited Bucky off to the Palace. His friend had been completely doe-eyed moments after their meeting, and by the time Sam had finally found him that evening, it was like the royal family was the greatest thing to ever happen to him. Sam hadn’t known Bucky for long, but they’d spent the entirety of their friendship cursing the King for his practices. 

What was worse was that when he’d seen Bucky next, it was like he hadn’t known who Sam was. It wasn’t uncommon for Bucky to shoo Sam away; he’d never done it with so much ferocity, and Sam had never seen the coldness that glinted in his eyes. 

When the King asked Bucky what he was willing to do to prove his loyalty, Sam only stayed long enough to see him smile in victory. 

He flew high, using the trees to block him from the Princess’s sight. She looked over her shoulder and nudged her horse onto a path that would lead her deeper into the forest. With the tree cover, he risked flying lower. 

“I know you’re there,” she called out. “You’ve followed me since I left. You don’t need to hide.” 

Sam flew down and landed on the pommel of her saddle. Her horse continued on, plodding along the stream that cut through the forest. 

“It’s Sam, right? I’ve seen you with Bucky.” 

“Tell me why I shouldn’t peck your eyes out.” He flapped his wings at her. Her lips twitched in amusement, though the tightening of the skin around her eyes told him she took his threat seriously. 

The stream led to a small house with a water mill and a respectable garden in the old footprint of a giant. She drew back on the reins, and her horse stopped, allowing her to dismount. “Because—” A stick broke, and she froze, her eyes wide. “Go,” she whispered. “I promise to tell you everything, but right now, you need to go!” 

It was the stress in her voice that made him listen. Sam flapped his wings and flew up to perch in a branch above. The Princess threw up her hood, obscuring her face. 

“Angela!” An ogre stomped out of the treeline and made a beeline toward her. Sam expected her to mount her horse and gallop away. She stood her ground, placing a grounding hand on her horse’s neck to soothe it. 

“Henriek,” she greeted. “You got my message.” Sam inched forward. The ogre towered over her, the green pallor of its skin glinting oily in the weak sunlight. 

“Tell me why I could believe that you can lead us to war when you can’t even protect our land!” 

“What?” 

“Even as we speak, the King’s soldiers are encroaching on our territory. You promised that if I provided information and the support of my tribe, you would protect our land.” 

Another ogre came from behind, blocking her hope of escape. Sam hopped forward. 

“I followed through on that promise, Henriek. I watched him sign the treaty. If he went back on his word, it was behind my back as well. But this is exactly why we can’t wait any longer. The King is distracted. It’s the best time to strike.” 

“Give me a reason to trust you.” 

Sam hopped forward again. He doubted anything she said would sway him, but how she would answer intrigued him nonetheless. She seemed unfazed until Sam noticed the way her hand clenched around her horse’s mane. 

“Have I ever let you down or given you bad information? Everything the King has shared with me, I’ve passed on to you. We need your support, Henriek. Without you and your tribes, we have no hope of ending his regime.” 

Sam cocked his head. He’d heard rumors of a rebel group working to disrupt the King and the King’s frustration of never being able to discover its leader. Why should he look within his own home? 

Henriek considered her. “We will be waiting at Silvermist at dawn in three days.” With nothing more, he motioned with a curled fist, and he and his companion disappeared. 

Sam flew back to rest on the saddle. Angie rested her head against her horse’s neck and exhaled a trembling breath. 

“I know you want an explanation,” she said. “But this is bigger than you could possibly imagine. I don’t know where to start.” 

“How about you explain why my best friend doesn’t recognize me.” 

She looked up, the hood slipping back down her shoulders, her eyes wide with alarm. “He already doesn’t?” She breathed out a string of curses. “I thought there would be more time. That means—” She cursed again. 

“More time for what?” 

She walked closer to the house, where the brook and the creaking of the watermill would prevent anyone from overhearing. “When I was a little girl, a soothsayer by the name of Zola visited the palace. He sought out my uncle and told him of a world parallel to ours—one without magic, filled with chaos and strife and beauty unimagined. Zola told him it was his destiny to use his gift to conquer that world and bring order. My uncle made it his mission to find a way there, and eventually, he located the Tesseract, which has the ability to open a door between time and space.” 

“Did he ever use it?” Sam had known the King to be dangerous before, but this changed everything. 

“Never for himself. Zola warned him that the world would defend against him. A singular key hidden in plain sight would have the ability to undo everything. He sent one of his advisors to find this key and destroy it. My beloved never returned.” 

The wind blew, bringing with it the sweet scent of wood smoke and wildflowers. A tear slipped down her cheek. For once, Sam sat quietly and waited for her to continue. 

“Each member of the royal family is born with a gift,” she finally said. “It sounds silly, and I’m ashamed of how I’ve used it, but I can make anyone fall in love with me. My perfume is intoxicating. Those who get too close can’t help but want more. From there, it’s easy. A kiss here, a promise there, and men will do anything. After my love went through and never returned, I’ve used it to find men for my uncle to send through.” 

Sam flapped his wings in alarm. 

“I’m not proud of it,” she repeated, “but it usually softens the effects of my Uncle’s gift. If they’re devoted to me, he has less of a hold. His power is worse. He doesn't need to be close; he just needs time. He speaks to you, and you can’t help but want to listen. The longer you do, the more control he has until you’re nothing but a puppet.” 

“So you’ve fed my best friend to the wolves.” 

“I do what I have to to keep my uncle distracted,” she snapped. “The time he spends training, he’s not paying close attention to the rebellion forming right under his nose.” She shook her head, an anxious expression replacing her anger. “But I’m afraid I’ve made a mistake with Bucky.” 

Pierce wove a tale of a world parallel to theirs, one that craved leadership to heal the chaos and bloodshed that plagued it. All he needed, he told Bucky, was a path forward. All he needed Bucky to do was remove the singular obstacle in his way. Once it was gone, killed, or done away with, he was worthy of Angie’s hand. 

What he needed, he said, was a Soldier.

“Sam, I’m afraid that Bucky will be the man to succeed. As much time as I’ve spent with him, my uncle has spent more. I know I have no right to ask for it, but I need your help. I need you to help me find him before it’s too late. My uncle cannot have power over both worlds.” 

Sam rested on her hand and stared into her eyes. “How am I supposed to trust you?” If what she’d said was true, she’d been exposed to the King’s power her entire life. 

“He killed the woman I loved,” Angie replied. “I  will fight against him until there is no fight left in my body.” 

The weight of her words settled on his heart, and Sam felt the truth of them. “Then let’s go.” 

vi.

As far as days had gone, Steve had had better ones. It hadn’t been the worst one he’d ever had, granted it would be hard to beat being told he was a father and having a newborn dumped on him with no warning. It wasn’t that Steve didn’t love his daughter. He loved her more than anything else in his life, but being a single dad while trying to get through law school wasn’t the easiest thing he’d ever done. 

He was often exhausted, they ate out more than he cooked, and if he picked up Sarah from her after-school care on time, it could be considered a good day. 

It was supposed to be a good day. He only had one class in the morning, so he’d been able to secure his favorite spot in the library and get a head start on his work. But, as often was the case when he settled in, he hadn’t realized the steadily darkening skies until his phone rang, earning the ire of everyone around him. 

“Do you know what time it is?” Natasha asked when he called her back after packing up his bag and hurrying out into the rain-slicked night. 

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m on my way.” He took out his keys and slid into his car. The engine stalled. He swore under his breath until it caught. 

“It’s not me you have to apologize to. It’s the six-year-old who told me daddy was picking her up early.” 

Shit. Steve had forgotten he’d told her that. Friday nights were their game nights. He always picked her up early, and if the week had been good, they went to the store and picked out a new game for them to learn. 

“Think I have a second chance?” 

“If you get here soon.” 

Steve looked at the clock before remembering it hadn’t worked in three years. “I owe you one, Nat.” 

Natasha hummed and hung up. Steve rested his head against the wheel and then reversed the car. 

“Hey, baby,” he said when Sarah opened the door thirty minutes later. “I’m so sorry I’m late.” 

She shrugged. Steve’s heart hurt. He knelt down so he didn’t tower over her. “How about I take tomorrow off from work and we go down to Coney Island? We’ll play games until you win the biggest prize.” He couldn’t really afford it, but the smile on her face was worth it. She wrapped her skinny arms around her waist. 

“Go get your things and we’ll get some dinner, okay? Your pick.” 

She scurried into the apartment, and Steve stood up. Natasha unpeeled herself from where she’d been leaning against the wall. 

“Bribery won’t work on her forever, you know. Soon she’ll be remembering the times you weren’t there.” 

Steve sighed. “I know, but I’m almost through school, and then things should be easier. Maybe I’ll actually have time to paint again.” 

He’d met Natasha his first year in undergrad, back when he’d still held onto his hope of being able to make it as an artist. She’d taken a few of his same art classes to balance her heavy load for social work, and they’d become fast friends. 

“And then what, Steve? You open a practice or join one and become so buried in work that Sarah only sees you when you leave your office? That’s no way for either of you to live.” 

“You think I don’t know that?” Steve rubbed his eyes. “This isn’t what I want for her, but what else am I supposed to do?” 

“You can ask Lorraine for child support.” 

“I won’t,” Steve said. “She didn’t want anything to do with Sarah and I before, and we don’t need her.” 

Natasha looked furious with him. “You and your stubborn pride. Then at least ask your girlfriend to pick your daughter up at a reasonable time. If Sarah’s going to be waiting for you, she can at least be at home.” 

“Daddy? I have all my things.” 

Steve looked from Natasha to his daughter. He wondered how much she’d heard. “Good, baby. You have your shoes?” She tapped her feet so the lights activated. “Good. All your toys?” She nodded. “Good. Go to the car; I’ll be there in a minute.”

He watched as she ran to the curb and got in the backseat. 

“You say this isn’t what you want for her,” Natasha said. “Are you sure it’s what you want for you?” 

“How much do I owe you?” 

“Steve.” 

“I’m not having this conversation right now, Natasha. How much do I owe you?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Tasha.” Steve didn’t need her charity. 

Her gaze was long. “Find a balance, Steve. Enjoy what you have before you realize it’s grown too tired of waiting for you.” 

He put his wallet back in his pocket and walked into the wet, dark night. 

“What do you want, Steve?” Natasha asked.

Steve turned to look at her. The rain dripped steadily down.  “For her to be happy.”

“And what about you? Don’t you get to be happy?”

“I’m a father,” Steve said. He’s had this conversation with himself countless times before. “She comes first. If there’s some leftover happiness for me in the end, well. Happy ending, right?”

The yellow of the car’s interior lights seemed harsh after the soft glow from Natasha’s. After making sure Sarah was buckled in, he walked around to the driver’s seat and rested his head against the wheel. The light drizzle dampened his coat. 

“Are you okay, Daddy?” Sarah asked. 

Steve smiled back at her. “Better now that you’re here. Ready to go home?” 

She nodded and he pulled away from the curb. 

He knew he could ask Peggy to help with Sarah more. Steve knew she wanted to. He didn’t know where to start.  

“What do you want for dinner, Bug?” he asked, glancing at her in the rearview. Streetlamps highlighted her cheekbones. “I think we might have dino nuggets in the freezer.” 

“And mango.” 

“Yeah, Bug. I can cut up a mango.” He didn’t have many kitchen skills, but he knew how to cut fruit.

Maybe Steve just needed a prince to sweep him off his feet and solve all his problems. 

He rolled to a stop at a deserted crosswalk. 

vii. 

When the King showed Bucky the portal, he stepped through with no hesitation. 

He appeared on a dark road with hanging lamps spilling yellow light through a drizzling rain.

viii. 

At dusk, Sam went through.