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thatsmzbitchtoyou · 20 hours

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Norsemen & Anglo-Saxons Chapter 1

Here's the new story! I hope y'all like it.

Viking!Bucky Warnings: eventual smut, abuse, violence, animal attack, blood

The New Year was upon them. The castle was bustling with maids and squires decorating and scrambling to get everything ready in time. The halls were filled up with garlands, pinecones, dried oranges, berries, and candles lit every ten feet. A large tree had been hauled into the great hall during Christmas Time and decorated with the same oranges, berries and pinecones, as well as ornamental pieces that shone through the branches in the candlelight. The last seasonal ball was to be held in a few days time, and the noble families from all over the Isles had traveled in to be part of the festivities.

Princess Y/N watched the chaos in boredom as her little brother Prince Alfred, or Alfie, ran around the room with a stream of ribbon in hand, singing holiday songs at the top of his lungs. As much as she loved and adored him their age difference was definitely apparent during these moments. “I watched three ships come sailing in on Christmas day on Christmas day…”

“Alfie if you sing that wretched song one more time I will–”

“You will do nothing,” her mother, Queen Eugenia interrupted as she walked into the great hall to inspect the decorations. “After all these years of training, you still resort to violence, you ridiculous child.”

“And you still call me a child when I near my thirtieth year, Mother,” Y/N spat back. “Perhaps my penchant for violence comes from my frustration with said training and the constant degradation of my age and ability.”

“Your petulance and independence has made you unmarriable and therefore a thorn in my side,” Eugenia sighed.

“There have been no, as you and Father called them, “suitable” suitors to marry me off to, Mother. And this,” she held out her hand, opening her palm, wherein a green orb of light appeared, “scares you both to death.”

“Put your hand away!” Eugenia ran over and slapped Y/N’s hand down before anyone could see. “Stop being so careless!”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Yes, Mother.”

Eugenia sat next to her. “You will attend tonight’s ball, dressed appropriately, with a smile on your ungrateful face and nothing but patient, polite mannerisms escaping that mouth of yours. And you will not play tricks,” she looked pointedly at Y/N’s hands.

Y/N glared at her. “Yes, Mother.”

Eugenia sighed again. “Go get ready.”

Y/N left the great hall as Alfie continued singing away. Her lady’s maid followed her as she roamed the halls towards her room. The only ones who knew about her ability were her family, the royal advisory court and her lady’s maid. No one had been able to figure out what to do with it. She didn’t have a handle on it, either. She could manipulate objects and people’s bodies to move how she wanted, heal minor injuries, and when touching someone she was able to see their thoughts and feel their feelings. She could feel that there was something more to it, that her power had the potential to grow, and yet she and her ability had been tamped down so heavily from the moment she first started exhibiting it that she was unable to truly hone it and see what she was capable of. The advisors had researched their history and fairy tale books extensively and could not find a rhyme or reason as to why she had this power. The only reason she had not been burned at the stake as a witch was because her father thought it could be useful to him and his never ending battle against the Norsemen.

Y/N had only seen one Norseman in her entire life. Her father had captured one after a horrible battle and brought him back from the battlefield. He was what they called a Berserker, a Norseman warrior that would lose all sense of self-preservation and run into battle like a feral animal, like they were out of their minds and drunk with bloodlust. Her father had put them in a room together, separated by a line of thin prison bars. The Norseman didn’t try to attack her, just watched her intently. Her father told her to try her powers on him, see what she could make him do. Y/N had refused, so her father flogged her to try and make her submit. The Norseman had become so incensed by her father’s mistreatment that he had broken through the bars, bending them like they were butter, and just as he was about to lay his hands on her father she threw her hands up. The Norseman was encircled in the green light, stopping him midair. Her father gave the first genuine smile towards her she had seen in years.

The guards had shackled him and took him away shortly after that. The look in his eyes as they dragged him away was one of shock and betrayal. Y/N couldn’t stand it, and that night snuck through the castle to the dungeon. She had found secret passages as a child that she used regularly, and slipped through undetected. She stole the keys and found his cell. He was awake, and when he heard the jingle of the keys he looked up at her. His eyes widened and he scurried towards the farthest wall from her.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” Y/N had whispered, holding her hands up. He watched her carefully as she unlocked the door and swung it open. She had stepped away, giving him room to leave. He had slowly walked out of the cell, watching her constantly. He stepped away towards the nearest exiting door. “Run,” she whispered as she backed away from him, keeping her hands up.

He stopped for a moment. He cleared his throat and asked in perfect English, “Are you a witch?”

Y/N had blinked at him in surprise. “I…I don’t know,” she answered honestly. This man could kill her in a second without making a sound, and yet he merely nodded. “Thank you, Drottning,” he bowed his head to her then ran off towards the door.

Y/N had never seen or heard from him again. The castle had been abuzz with confusion and fear upon finding him missing the next morning, but they ultimately decided that the barbarian had his ways and wasn’t worth pursuing.

Y/N had never trusted her father again after that day, and had steered clear of him whenever and however she could. He only wanted her for her power and what it could do for him. He didn’t love her, he didn’t love Alfie. He was a true English King, hoarding power and wealth wherever he could.

Y/N dressed in her holiday best for the ball and begrudgingly entered the great hall later that night. The party was in full swing, nobles dancing together as the music played, the King and Queen laughing madly at the jester performing in front of them. The wine was flowing, making the crowd more rowdy by the second. As Y/N ascended the stage where the King and Queen sat she saw two short legs poking out and found Alfie hiding behind the Queen’s wide throne chair. She quickly walked over and pulled him into her arms. “What are you doing here, Alfie? It’s late, and this is no place for a young boy,” she scolded him.

“Papa said I had to be here, because I’m to be king, and this is what kings do,” he mumbled. Y/N glared over at her father, who was drinking himself into a stupor. Alfie was a mere 11 years old, and already her father was trying to sink his dirty claws into the little boy’s mind and heart.

“No, Alfie, this is not how kings should act,” Y/N reassured him as she ran her fingers through his hair. “Let’s get you to bed.”

Suddenly there was a loud bang and a whistling as wind whipped through the hall from where the front doors burst open. A thunderous roar from what seemed like hundreds of men swarming the hall filled the room, echoing through the high ceilings and making Alfie cover his ears. Y/N held him close as she huddled behind the throne, concealing him and herself as best as possible. There were shouts and screams from the nobles as the men started to cut many of them down, pushing and beating others as they made their way to the stage.

The King and Queen sat in shocked silence as they watched their guards and nobles die or be captured around them. Y/N glanced around looking for an escape and saw men standing in the higher windows, pointing arrows at the royals. She knew they were seen and so any attempt to run would be met with death.

Heavy footsteps walked up the stage steps, and before she could even move large hands were hefting her and Alfie from behind the chair. They ripped Alfie from her arms and she screamed, trying to get ahold of him again as he cried and tried to grab for her. Y/N’s body was wrenched around and she came face to face with a familiar looking man.

“Hello, Drottning, remember me?” the Norseman from years earlier smiled at her.

“You!” Y/N breathed as her eyes widened.

The Norseman chuckled as he led her to the front of the stage to stand next to her Mother and Father who sat dumbfounded on their thrones, Alfie on the other side of them being held back by another man. Y/N looked around and even through her fear was struck by the attractive nature of these men. Most of them were spattered in blood and sweat from fighting, and yet she had never seen so many handsome men. The yelling started to die down as one Norseman walked forward, assumedly the leader, the rest of them parting to let him through. The one approaching her and her family was easily one of the most beautiful men she had ever seen in her life. His long, dark brown hair was half tied back with braids that had ornaments of beads and metal cuffs attached to them. His full beard was cut neatly and framed his pink lips, which were stretched into a menacing smirk. His blue eyes shone bright like the ocean just after a storm, and she could see the mischievous glint in them as he scanned the family. He was covered in Norse battle gear from just under his jaw to his feet, a large sheathed sword on his right side and a war hammer at his left. His left arm was bare, and upon further inspection Y/N realized it wasn’t flesh, but some kind of metal, yet it looked and functioned like a normal arm. He was huge, like all the other men, tall and broad. His eyes settled on her and he appraised her, giving her a long look up and down. Y/N straightened herself under his stare, refusing to bow or show weakness to him. His smirk deepened at her as he looked back at her parents.

“King Henry, Queen Eugenia,” he greeted them in a deep, booming voice. “I am James Barnes, Jarl of the Danes, or Norsemen as you like to call us.” He nonchalantly took a half eaten pastry off the table closest to him and popped it in his mouth, chewing it slowly. “What a lovely party. We missed our invitation,” he said with a sly smile, making his men laugh heartily around him.

Henry just couldn’t help himself as he stood up. “You aren’t wanted, heathens! Leave immediately!”

“Now now, Henry, is that any way to speak to the ones who have conquered you?” James admonished him. “I’ve come to make peace, and you want to scream insults?”

Y/N silently gasped. Peace? With the Norsemen?

“Make peace? While you murder my nobles and threaten my family? That’s preposterous,” Henry scoffed. Y/N glared at her father, silently wishing for him to shut up.

“Well you could either choose peace, or watch the rest of your nobles and your family die, starting with your heir,” James threatened, glancing at Alfie. Y/N squirmed against the Norseman behind her at the threat. “And we’ll make some stops along the way to some of your most prosperous cities and take what we need. The choice is yours.”

“That’s no choice!” Henry yelled and then started to move towards James. “You wretched, barbaric–”

A whistle sounded through the hall as an arrow was loosed. It flew straight towards Alfie’s chest. Y/N’s hand yanked out of the Norseman’s hand that was holding her and stretched toward her brother as she screamed, “NO!”

The arrow stopped, hovering right in front of Alfie’s heart, surrounded by the green light. The men gasped, James staring at Y/N with an awestruck smile on his face. “So it’s true,” he whispered. Y/N flicked her wrist and the arrow went flying towards the wall and shattered. Before she could even drop her hand James was in front of her. He looked at the Norseman holding her back and nodded to him. “Thor, is this the English witch of royal blood who freed you?”

The man behind her nodded and lightly shoved her into his arms. James held her by her arms and looked down at her. “What’s your name, Princess?”

Y/N could only stare at his bright blue eyes, her heart hammering in her chest at exposing herself and her ability. “Y/N,” she whispered.

“Y/N,” he repeated it like it was a prayer. “I’ve been talking to the wrong person.” He pulled her forward to face her family. “Henry, you’ve been hiding something,” he chuckled as he plopped his chin on her shoulder so they were cheek to cheek and ran his fingers up and down her arms, the metal ones sending chills up her spine. “She’s the one with power, not you.” Henry glared at her, a hateful look on his face. “Oh, I see,” James’ voice became sharper. “You feel threatened by her, so you’ve hid her away, stomped on her potential to grow,” Y/N was nearly shaking as she felt the adrenaline rush through her. “She’s a goddess among you pathetic royals,” he kissed the side of her head, “and you wanted to reduce her to a torture device. You let the magic go to waste.” He turned her towards him again and dipped his face to be at eye level with her. “We have magic at home. We can help you learn and grow,” Y/N’s eyes widened at him. “So I ask you, Princess Y/N. What do you choose, death or peace?”

Y/N exhaled a shaky breath as she stared at him. As he touched her she let her ability slip into his mind. She could find no lie in his words. He and his people were tired, the constant war depleting their resources and wiping out families. They won the battles more often than lost, but it had put a strain on their lives. His mention of magic seemed real, too, with glimpses and flashes of things that were unexplainable popping up in his mind. Y/N thought about her people and how the English had been begging for peace for years as well, all of it falling on her father’s greedy, prideful ears. She could tell James was good, and only wanted good for his men and his people.

“I propose an allyship,” she said. James blinked and his eyebrows furrowed at her. “A peace treaty with a tradition as old as time,” she clarified, gulping quickly. “We join our families in marriage.” His eyes flicked between hers, like he was studying her. His men around him mumbled as they considered the idea. “If you are unmarried,” she amended, since she wasn’t sure, “or if someone in your nobility is unmarried, I will come with you as a peace offering, a marriage tribute. You will have me, and my power, and leave my family and my people be,” she said, trying to look and sound every bit the princess her mother had always wanted her to be. “And we will end this war and finally bring peace to our people.”

James stood straight, towering over her. He watched her for another moment, then stepped back and looked to his men behind him. Two of them walked up and spoke to him quietly. Y/N waited on baited breath as they consulted with each other. They stood back and he turned toward her again. “Done,” he said simply, the smirk returning to his lips. Y/N nodded and quietly sighed. “My Drottning,” he spoke lowly, holding out his metal hand. She put her right hand into his metal hand, admiring it.

“What does that mean?” she asked him.

“My Queen,” he winked at her. Y/N blushed deeply. He turned to his men and held her hand up high in his. “We have peace!” he yelled triumphantly. The thunderous roar returned as they cheered, their hands and swords and axes held high as they hugged each other and drank some of the wine left on the tables around them. James dropped their joined hands and kissed the hand he held, making her blush again. “Say goodbye to your family, Drottning, we leave immediately.”

He let her go and she ran up the stairs towards her family. She ignored her parents altogether, grabbing Alfie and holding him tight against her.

“Don’t go,” Alfie cried as his fingers clutched her dress.

“I have to,” Y/N cried as she carded her fingers through his hair. “You listen to me,” she knelt in front of him and held his face in her hands, “you remember what I’ve taught you.” He nodded frantically. “Do not listen to Father,” he nodded again, making her father sneer at them next to her. “I’ve seen it in you,” she whispered, laying a hand against his heart then tapping her finger to her head. “You will become one of the greatest kings England has ever known, as long as you don’t do as Father has done. You will bring continued peace and prosperity, you hear me?” She wiped his tears away. “Because you are a good boy, and will become a great man. My little king,” she kissed his forehead firmly before pulling away.

Alfie cried harder as she stepped away from him. She turned to her father. “Stay away from him,” she warned him, glancing at Alfie. “I have procured a peace that you, and your father, and your father’s father could never have dreamed of,” she sneered back at him. “Do good by our people, for once in your miserable life.” She glared at him before turning back towards James who stood patiently waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs.

His men were slowly retreating out of the great hall as he held his hand out for her again. She took it as he flashed one last glance and triumphant smile at her father before leading her out the front doors. As they walked through the courtyard and towards the horses waiting for them he glanced at her attire.

“Hm, this won’t do while riding,” he said as he twirled her around. Y/N furrowed her eyebrows at him. “Where’s your lady’s maid?”

Y/N looked around and saw the telltale eyes peeking from behind the stables. “May,” she pointed.

James summoned her forward out of hiding. She quickly ran across the courtyard and into Y/N’s arms, sobbing as Y/N pet her hair. “Miss May, go fetch your princess’ riding clothes and some simple dresses for travel,” James instructed her. May stared at him with wide eyes, looking at Y/N who nodded to her. She was escorted back inside with Thor to get Y/N’s things packed.

As they stood there waiting, the snow started to fall. Y/N looked up and sighed as the cold kissed her face, a welcome reprieve to her inflamed cheeks from the night’s tension. She looked towards James who was already looking at her.

“What do I call you?” she asked him.

“You can call me Bucky,” he said.

“Bucky?” she asked, a small smirk pulling her lips.

“A nickname,” he laughed at her perplexed look. “Saved for those closest to me. And since you’ll be my queen–”

“So it is you I’ll be marrying then?” Y/N asked.

“Yes,” Bucky laughed harder. “I guess I didn’t make that very clear.”

“Hm,” Y/N hummed. “You have a very English name...James.”

“Yes,” he agreed, sighing as he looked at the falling snowflakes. “We Norsemen and you Anglo-Saxons are not that different from each other,” he said with a twinkle in his eye as he winked at her again.

Y/N pondered that as May came out holding Y/N’s riding clothes and boots with Thor holding a small trunk that he loaded onto one of the wagons they had waiting. May ran back to Y/N.

“Go change, and then we’ll be off,” Bucky excused Y/N, who led May over to the stables. They went into an empty bay and May quickly stripped Y/N out of her gown and into her riding clothes.

“My lady,” May said as she held Y/N’s crown in her hands. Y/N looked at it and gingerly took it from her. She stared at it for a moment before giving it back to her. She gave May another hug.

“Take it, my love,” she said as May sobbed in her arms again. “Run away and marry that stable boy, Ben, and use it to live long happy lives together,” she said as she pulled away.

May nodded as she cried, gathering up the gown as she said goodbye.

Y/N came back out in her riding clothes. She approached Bucky who was preparing his horse. He mounted it and held his hand out to her. She took it and he helped hoist her behind him on the saddle. He wrapped her hands around his waist then she felt him tying her wrists together.

“What–” she started, trying to look over his shoulder.

“So you don’t run off,” Bucky cocked an eyebrow at her in warning as he looked back at her.

“I won’t,” Y/N promised.

“That’s what they all say,” Bucky chuckled before he turned to his men who were all waiting. “To Danmark!!”

“To Danmark!” they all yelled, and the pounding of hooves rang through the night as they all rode out of the courtyard and into the English countryside.

Y/N’s arms tightened around Bucky, her head tucking in between his shoulder blades as the winter wind stung her face. She was not going to run and wanted to prove it to him. She wanted peace, even if it meant giving up herself to get it. After about an hour they all started to slow as they reached the water’s edge where multiple ships were docked, secured by other Norsemen who waited anxiously for them.

Bucky untied the rope around her wrists then dismounted. He held his hands up to her hips and helped her down as well. He inspected her wrists, giving them a short rub. “I’m sorry,” he whispered as he pressed a kiss to each wrist. Y/N was surprised at his affection, but welcomed it in the moment. He pulled her towards one of the boats. He helped her step onto it and settled her into a corner of the stern that was covered in furs and quilts. He pulled one of the furs up and covered her with it, securing it around her shoulders. There was plenty of room around her as she got herself comfortable.

“It’s going to be a four day journey, Drottning,” Bucky kneeled in front of her. “This area is for all of us to sleep, so you’ll have at least a few men next to you, but don’t fear,” he reassured her at the look on her face, “they’re harmless. Just tired.”

Y/N looked around at the men loading themselves into the boat, many of them taking seats at the benches where the oars were sitting. She felt worried but nodded at him. He gave her a smile and stepped away to help load more things into the boats. They all worked methodically together until in just a few minutes they were ready to pull off. Bucky was stationed at one of the oars as well, giving the signal and they shoved off the shore.

Y/N watched the men in her boat and the others row in perfect unison. She admired their strength and the way they all seemed to be of one mind as they worked together to get into a good rhythm, making the boat fly through the water. The rhythmic rowing lulled her to sleep as she snuggled down into the furs below her.

She woke a few hours later. It was still dark out, the rowing still going strong. As she shifted to get more comfortable she felt a heavy weight around her waist. She panicked until she turned and saw Bucky’s peaceful face sleeping next to her, his metal arm resting on her side. Y/N looked down at the arm. She admired its craftsmanship, unsure of how he was able to find or create such a thing. Her fingers traced along the metal, the plates and divots carved like the muscles of a real arm would be. When she reached his hand she lightly traced each finger with the tip of her pointer finger. His hand suddenly moved to grasp her wrist. She gasped as he gently maneuvered her to face him. His eyes were still closed as he let go of her wrist then wound his metal arm around her back this time, holding her to his chest. “Sleep, wife,” he mumbled, his voice coming out hoarsely as he kissed her forehead and rested his chin on top of her head.

Y/N was stiff for a moment until the warmth enveloped her and she melted into his embrace. She pressed her nose into his sternum and breathed deeply as her hands gripped the fur coat he was wearing. He hummed as his breathing evened out and a soft snore rumbled in his chest. It lulled her to sleep again, a small smile on her face.

**picture is A.I. from Pinterest, unknown original "artist" or "creator"**

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #smut #viking!bucky barnes #viking!bucky barnes x reader #medieval #viking #chapter 1

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