𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

Long ago, man was not the most feared beast. Legends told of magically adept monsters with horns and scales that dominated the skies and devoured all in their path. 

The earth was home to dragons.

Humans will not coexist happily with others, it was said. They were too powerful and constituted a greater threat than what an army could handle.

One man stood out, a noble with riches set on a brigade to claim the dragons, wield their magic as their own, and conquer enemies. But no man was worthy. 

Those who were captured were tortured and shackled down. The dragons’ scales ripped from their bodies to obtain power and make armor; their treasures were hoarded and blundered.

Man could tame no dragon, but many who were foolhardy enough tried. 

Without success, the noble set on a war path to destroy all dragons, for if they couldn’t be used, they were the enemy. At the hands of his greatest mind, a weapon was created. An elixir powerful enough to daze the beasts and bring them down from the sky, long enough for men to draw their swords. Countless riches were spent on catapults, and potions, the elixir their greatest chance at victory. The ground grew wet with the blood spilled from innocent beings and, with their dying flame, their magic too. 

When the last dragon, the most fierce of them all, was spotted in the mountains of Ryym, the noble set out his own personal army, determined to be the man who could harness the power above all. 

“Shmidt, I do not believe this to be wise.” 

“Hush, you worm.” The noble waved him off, stepping foot into the arena. Thousands gathered and cheered to watch the last dragon be tamed or likey slaughtered.  “Here ye, here ye, Sir Shmidt has arrived. Your savior is here, my good fellows.” He hollered out, waving his hands. 

The blood-chilling smile on his face was mirrored back at him as he approached the beast and peered into its eyes. Johann dances around, looking for the best possibility to climb. His men brought a rope and straps to help, and he climbed his way, seating himself on the weakened strapped dragon. The audience applauded as he triumphantly lifted his arms.

He laughed as he dragged his feet through the scales and saw black blood leak. “See? This was easier–” The dragon suddenly swerved, and Johann held tight to the makeshift reins as they ripped the barriers, taking to the sky. 

Chuckling humorlessly, he looked down below at the people gathered to watch him. Until the dragon lurched, bucking him into the sky. With one chomp and a flap of weak wings, the noble was no more. 

𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧

‘Grrrr’

‘Grrrr’

Steven cracked open his eyes. He stretches out, flexing his muscles and feeling his scales pull tight. He hates sleeping like this, but he must. He gets to his claws, letting his tail uncurl. “There you are.” He smiles down at his young. It sleeps in a cocoon curled into its tail during the day. Safe and protected. 

He staked out this hillside years ago, waiting for the time. Unfortunately, humans were getting too close to his old den, their scents behind making him itch, unable to shift until after the hatching. For years he got by that way, living in his fake skin, only shifting when the time called, and he wanted to be free. He was like no other of his kind. His sire was a beautiful woman who spun magic with her words and healed him from his shell. Sarah saved him, transforming him to give him the ability to cloak his skin. 

His only regret in life is that he could not save her. For the test of time was a match for no human. 

Steven inhales deeply, smoke filling the cave when he lets go. Willing the never-ending pain to cease when he thinks of her. She may not have been his maker, but she was his sire. And she held a special part of him no matter the years passed.

He chose this spot; it reminded him of her. The nearby fields billowing in the breeze catch his memory of her hair, golden and free, the pool of water hidden in the mountain tops the same crystal of her eyes. 

Steven blinks and trembles, shaking himself.

It was also a place he hoped to be far away from under the wings of Shield. Over the ages, he’s rejected them many times. He had finished his battle. He didn’t want to engage with the humans. 

Understanding what they fought against in another life was why he refused Fury’s call now. Steven wanted to live a life free from pain, from bloodshed. So he shied away from his kind, a loner of the thunder, until he could escape. His egg only but a bud, then. 

In lands unheard of by most, Steven relaxes. He can stop running now. It’s almost time. 

He ducks his head out of the cave entrance and glimpses the sun. If he remains close to the ground, he could hunt and be back without being spotted. It wasn’t until after he relocated that the humans started to make camp and settle beyond the way.

They won"t find him, and he won"t run away. Dragons haven’t been spotted in eons.  So, his existence is only a myth.

Making quick work of the hunt, he fills himself for another long sleep and returns. 

But something is amiss. A scent….of humans lurking near the mouth of his dwelling. Steven is quick to swoop in and checks the perimeter. Once he flies inside, he’s hit with blue dust, blinding him. He crawls into the cave deep inside, snatching his egg in his way.

—

When he awakes, and his memory starts to return, it’s to an empty cave. And just like it did all those years ago, his eyes go black, the soul-crushing weight of his loss coped with trembling pain. Steven succumbs to the beast within him.

𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲

“Watch out, Barnes!” Rumlow pushes by him without giving him much chance to react before shoving him into a pile of hay.

Bucky struggles to get up but scowls at Rumlow and Rollins, who stand watching him with glee the whole time. “What’s the big idea?” 

Rumlow smirks, digging into a burlap sack on his shoulder to pull out…an egg?

“Check out this puppy.” Rumlow hands the egg over to Rollins, who tosses it up in the air like a ball before catching it. “Gonna fetch us a pretty coin—Would you stop that?” Rumlow snatches the thing away and shoves it back before redirecting his attention toward Bucky. 

“So, whaddya say?”

Bucky adjusts his stance, trying to use his large frame not to seem intimidated. He might be down an arm, but he can still hold his own in a fight with these two. “To what?”

Rumlow steps over the hay, getting right into his face. “After I cash this in for the gold I deserve, how about you let me get you that ale?” Beady eyes fall onto Bucky’s half-exposed chest, “Take that ass for a spin, see if it still goes around as it used to before you went and got yourself all fucked up.” 

Bucky snaps, stomping on the pitchfork he was using to rake in the hay, as it flies up into his hand with a jerk. He jabs the prongs in Rumlow’s direction, almost striking the ass but managing to catch the shoddy bag instead.

“Better cool it, Barnes, I’m about to be the richest man in this village, and no one is going to protect you, freak.” Rumlow sneers, “Let’s get out of here.” Jostling Rollins by the arm as they walk away down the dirt turned cobblestone path. 

Bucky shakes off the encounter with the village idiots and returns to his chores. His family owns the land he’s on, but Bucky has a cottage to himself just on the outskirts of the property at the edge of town. No one comes out this far, with his father taking on more responsibilities as an elder. It"s not become his job to tend to this side of the farm. 

Bucky enjoys his self-isolation. He actually likes it that way. The fewer people that stare at him or feel sorry for him, the better.

—

A pleasant breeze over the plains is blowing through his hair as the sun is setting. After he secures his tools and lights his torch, he makes the small trek back to his home. He gets as far as the hay bale he stacked earlier before his run-in and groans. The sheaf is a mess and needs to be rewound and stacked before it scatters. Looking at the wind, he knows it won’t get too cool tonight, so he adds that to his list for the morning. 

Walking along the path, he stumbles over something, dropping his torch as he huffs into the hard ground, barely reaching his hand to catch it before it can set the hay ablaze.

“Wooo.” He rolls over quickly and sighs in relief. Disaster averted. 

After, he lies on the ground for a few minutes, wondering if getting up is worth it. Glancing in the losing daylight, his home is only just ahead, might as well. He shakes the hay from his clothes, turning to head his way when he remembers. 

Shining the light toward the ground, he doesn’t see anything. Then, about to give up and shrug the whole thing off on his tired mind, the torch catches a glint hidden within the hay. It takes maneuvering for him to set the torch down against a nearby rock, pointed up, so it doesn’t light. Then, finally, he reaches in and takes the thing, only to recognize it immediately once it is cradled in his hand.

It’s the egg Rumlow had stashed, which he said would make him rich. 

“Serves him right, fucker.” Bucky huffs. He slides it into his satchel around his neck and retrieves his torch. 

Once inside, he hangs his bag from the nail beside the door and places the torch in its proper location on the wall.

Dinner is a quick fare. Bucky has an extended invitation to join his parents on the other side of the hill any night he chooses, but he wants to be alone. So he fills his belly with stale bread and cold stew from the previous night. He only has so much energy after a day’s work, cooking for himself when his body can’t stand the hunger, and his arm starts to shake. 

He dips his bowl in the bucket of water, best saved washing for the daytime, and curls between the scratchy blankets of his bed. Sleep doesn’t come easy for him, especially after his accident. Hours pass as he tosses and turns, unable to feel the calming drag of peaceful rest. 

It’s almost daybreak, and the first light shining in from the moldy window before he wishes it to. Grumbling out of bed, he rubs his tired eyes, and when his vision clears of the funny shapes and colors are gone, they focus on his bag. A few of the seams have torn from the weight, practically grazing the ground as it hangs low.

Bucky scratches his head, walking over to investigate what could be—oh, that’s right. 

He carefully extracts the egg, holding it to the sun’s rays. He placed it on the table as he lowered his brows in thought. Retrieving a cloth from his dressing drawer, he carefully wipes the debris and dirt from the surface. The longer he cleans, the more it starts to appear; it’s not dirt that’s caked on. Instead, scorch marks…but it’s an egg?

Bucky mutters as he grits his teeth to scrub it even more, "I swear if those fuckholes tried to cook this thing." He opens the window to let in more light and fresh air into the stale cottage as he throws the cloth into the bin to be laundered later this week. A pull in his mind on a loop of what the egg could possibly be of origin of, if Rumlow believed it to be so valuable.

So kind of rare bird or—His lips split in a gasp as he returns to the table.

“No…it can’t be.” His fingers shake as he reaches his arm out, clutching the egg to his chest in the light. It is lovely. Scorch marks are only effective in emphasizing the glossy reflection. Dark blue scales that glisten with mossy green specks remind him of the lake that lies deep within the surrounding woodland and beyond the settlement.

He runs his fingers over one of the scales, the sharpness slicing his fingertip. “Ouch!” He frowns at the egg while sucking the finger in his mouth. “Bad…egg.”

The egg wiggles against his chest, or at least he swears it does. He approaches the table while perched on a stool. He is okay with the fact that he will not complete any work today. When the sun reaches its highest point in the sky, Bucky still cradles it in his arm at the table. 

Words told to him long ago as a bedtime tale have him setting it down and lighting the heath. Careful to place it in his biggest cauldron and set it over the flame.

The rumors of the village must be true. Talking to an egg with more awe and wonder than Bucky has a person in a decade. Maybe he is going mad, rocking the cauldron like a cradle, telling it things he wouldn’t say to another living soul. 

“My father… he’s not like most people. Born in a land far from here, he raised us to believe in magic and spells.” Bucky rolls his eyes, “I know, it sounds outlandish, but he’s the smartest man in our village, the healer, and the newest elder. If anyone knew everything in the world, it would be him.” Bucky wraps his hand in linen to protect it as he tips over the cauldron. He swaddles the searing egg and nestles it as his stomach growls. 

“I wonder where Rumlow and Rollins could’ve got their hands on you.” 

A loud rumble from the ground interrupts his thoughts, making him lose his grip, and he throws himself to the floor to catch the egg, taking the brunt of the blow to his stump. “Fuck, that was close.” He huffs a stray hair out of his face. 

The earth is trembling, and the walls are groaning when he stands up. He approaches the window and gazes out at the swaying hills. “What the hell–” 

The sky is torn apart by a thunderous roar as the shaking gets worse. Bucky ducks, folding himself over the egg. He sits on his knees and peers over the cracked window ledge until it stops and the air becomes still.  In the distance, a red creature slices through the air, two enormous wings expanding as its flight descends, and fire starts to rain down, speeding up as it flies straight for his cottage.

Bucky gulps, looking at the egg trembling in his arm. “Fuck.” 

𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧

He ascends to the skies, allowing his suffering to lead him into a cry.

It doesn’t take much, not harnessing all his untapped power, stored for generations in defense, to locate what is his. He hones in on his child like a beacon. Steve lets fire fall from him as he dives down into the valley. 

Circling the mile around the homestead, he roars, letting his strength be known. He will raise this entire planet to seek justice if harm has come to his. He lowers his wings, slowing his descent as his claws dig into the earth, stopping before a lone human in the field. A man. 

As Steven spots the egg, he spreads his wings and roars at the human, spouting poisonous saliva until he runs out of breath.

He lowers his head, ready to reclaim, when he notices the man…he doesn’t cower.

He stands tall in the field, one hand raised over his head, Steve’s child balanced. He will burn this spot to ashes as he advances, preparing to attack, and the warmth will only benefit the hard shell. The man steps away with his palm outstretched in submission as he lowers his egg onto a makeshift pallet. 

“I mean you no harm!” The man shouts. Steven hasn"t heard a person speak in a very long time, but the words begin to make more sense as he continues.

“I am sorry…someone….very bad people took it. I didn’t know what it was until I cleaned it. I…..” The man continues to gently move away, giving Steve room to approach.

“Wasn’t sure how…but I did what I could…” 

He wonders several times, "How could this human know?" He shouldn"t presume to know how to handle Steven"s egg. Does he not understand that touching a dragon’s egg is such an intimate act reserved for its mate?

The closer he gets, he can see the shell is much shiner, a beacon in the sun. He licks over the harsh exterior, checking for damage. But….it seems it is in better condition. Blowing a small well-aimed haze of fire, the human steps away but doesn’t shrink. 

Interesting. 

“Please. I’m sorry you were robbed…but it was not by me.”

Steven scents the air and finds the human is telling the truth. The scent around his cave was vile, of greed and shame. Now he can only smell wheat and something sweet, like cane. 

The essence, one he hasn’t felt in a long time. 

Yet he is too busy to play games. Steven will spare him for the time being if this human has returned his child in this manner. Before the man can finish speaking, he snatches the egg and storms off in a final huff.

—

Although time has passed, his thoughts never stray far from long brunette locks and warm sugary smells. Day after day, the man and his egg occupy his mind. 

The time is near; he can feel it. 

He buried it in the center of his treasure hoard, the safest place for a dragon. Surrounded by comfort, he will leave to his young one day.

When the expected arrival does not yield, Steven begins to worry. He can’t shift, not until the egg hatches. He has to use fire to ease them from the shell, his bond with them is incomplete without it, and his offspring would die without a bond to its living sire.

—

“Hello?” He is roused from his sleep by a voice that resounds off the walls of the pitch-black cave. It"s hard to be patient during such a delicate moment.  He’s quick to let his instincts take over, ‘Save them, Save them,’

He roars, belting out fire, and smoke, decimating any life beyond the mouth of the dwelling. 

When he thinks the intruder is disposed of, tentative footsteps follow the voice, now close enough to recognize. “Sorry…I,” The man huffs as Steven turns on him, tail billowing reach to strike at first sight of treachery. “Forgive me…dragon.” 

Steven would roll his eyes if it didn’t break his concentration. 

“Something told me to come here. I…I don’t know what. But I’ve been having these dreams….”

His muscles go rigid, and his breath comes quickly. The man looks up at him, taking in his stature and power, but doesn’t shy away or stare in awe, he only looks appreciatively.

“Stories used to say dragons were connected to dreams…that if you could dream of them, then they would dream of you too.” 

Steven has heard that before. Once. 

It was the first thing he could remember. A soft voice calling him from beyond hard walls. He stalks around the man, circling him in the spacious cave as he speaks. 

“I think something is coming for you and your egg.” Steven rears back, his jaw widening, ready to attack as the man holds his hand, and he glimpses the first real sign of hesitancy. “Not me! Not me! I don’t want to do that!”

His irritation is growing. He wants this to stop. He wishes he could tell this man to go and not harm him. But he– the man spots his nesting child and points. “...May I?” Steven sneers, teeth bared. The brunette takes something from a bag and sets it on the ground. “For you.” 

Not taking his eyes off the human, he leans down. A gold bar, soft and malleable, and yes, he likes this very much. He huffs, nosing the man to step closer, but not too close.

The sun sets when the man prepares to leave. “Thank you…uh..for not roasting me..” He waves at the lip of the cave, his curls bouncing in the moonlight. “My name is Bucky, I don’t know If I told you that… I’d like to come back. If that’s alright.” 

Steven doesn’t know what to do. The human–Bucky– has spent the day in silence, watching the egg just as Steven. 

“I don’t have any more gold to bring you…but I’ll think of something.” He smiles, and something in Steve wants to reach out, pluck him by the fabric covering him, and lay him in the treasure too. “You’re safe. I won’t tell anyone.” 

He turns away, not giving a response. 

—

Bucky comes again. 

Every sunset, Steven"s worries grow as his egg doesn’t hatch. Dragon eggs only have a slight chance of survival to an unmated dragon, and he wants to beat those odds. 

The only reprieve from his worries is Bucky’s visits. Sometimes at night, sometimes during the day, his dwelling miles from here, but he still travels. He always smells of fields, and freshwater, that undertone of sweetness. Steven ignores how he can scent the air when Bucky is within reach of the cave. 

As the months go on, things start to change. But, every day, he puts his energy into the fire to sustain his child and no change. But Bucky comes. 

On those days, the worry is lessened. 

He talks to Steven without ever getting a response. Tales of his life, his family, and his farm. Of the loss of his limb during a fight protecting his sister from a would-be killer. 

Steven learns so much about Bucky. And after a while starts to wish he could return the favor. Maybe that’s why his sorrows don’t seem as heavy when Bucky is around. He observes the way the man looks at his child, shifting the position sometimes, washing the scales with a lump of something, and polishing it to a shine. With Bucky’s presence, he feels the pain he has…is shared. 

—

 Winter comes, and Bucky’s visits dwindle in time. He tells Steven it’s harder to travel on foot in the snow but promises to return soon. Bucky always fulfills his promise. Steven has taken his child and buried them under his form as he hibernates in the coldest time for weeks. 

In his subconscious, he can hear Bucky. His footsteps, his voice. Can feel his timid warmth as he strokes Steven’s scales, by a fire made by himself and, one time, the brushing of his wing. 

—

Spring comes, and heavy rain is not all that it brings. 

Bucky arrives, dragging a carcass of fresh meat, the scent enticing. Steven devours it and licks his lips as Bucky laughs, cleaning the egg. Steven’s heart feels weakened by his losing hope for his child’s life. Reserve his energy for lighting it once a day and for making fires for Bucky on the cave floor. The man has started to lose layers, more skin showing each visit. And with his growing comfort, something blossoms in Steve as well.

“My sister left this morning. She married the miller in our village. He’s alright, I suppose.”

Steven huffs and his ears perk at the sound from outside. Wings. He rushes to the entrance and barely hears Bucky follow. Smacking his tail on the floor, he jerks his head, and Bucky looks at the egg and nods. “You go. I’ll stay guard.” 

The idea that he should be protecting his young from humans and not his own kind doesn’t take merit. 

Steven emerges from hiding, spreading his wings, and roaring to the sky. He circles and finds the unwanted. 

A large dragon, ebony scales worn and tarnished. One golden eye watching his landing. He doesn’t have to shift to speak and know what is happening, centering his mind, he opens the link to his former clan. 

“What are you doing here, Nick?”

A deep baritone fills his head as the dragon shifts to stand taller, not as big as Steve, but he doesn’t have to be. Steven knows Fury to be vicious with stealth. That’s why this out in the open is a surprise. “I’ve come to offer you my congratulations.” 

“Lies.” He snaps. “I won’t ask again. What do you want?”

Nick huffs, black smoke from his nostrils. “Never were much of a conversationalist. We know about the egg.” 

“It’s mine.” He seethes, flapping his wings. 

“I know. I’ve come to offer it protection–”

“Oh, like you once offered me?”

“That was a judgment call.”

“And this isn’t?! How many times must I tell you I won’t fight!”

“We can heal it.”

The wind knocked from his lungs, and he felt weak, like a jab to the heart. “...What?”

“Intel tells us your offspring won’t sprout, likely due to excessive damage you sustained in the attacks, but–”

“Hits I took to save us! Or did you forget that?”

“Let me finish!” The golden eye flashes red, and Steven doesn’t cower. Not for a long time.

“My answer is no.”

“You let me take the hatching back to base, and we do our damn best to save them.”

Steven’s talons dig into the stone, gorgeous left in their wake. “For what in return.” 

“All we ask is that you let us train them when the time comes.”

“Fuck you!”   

Nick flaps his wings, seemingly nonchalant. “Don’t say I didn’t offer to help. You"re the last one of your breed, you"d be throwing away an opportunity that isn"t yours. I know about the humans.” 

“What humans?” He barks, his heart beating at the thought of what was told of Bucky.

“The ones who snatched yours right in front of you.” Nick delivers the blow with no mercy. 

“How could you–” A scream has him jerking his head. He knows that voice. He doesn’t think before he takes flight, looking over his wing. “I see my choice in the matter was never really mine!” Steven gets back just in time to witness a dragon carrying Bucky in its mouth, Steven’s egg cradled under his shirt in his arm. “Let me go!” 

“Release them, and I’ll spare you!” Steven offers. 

“By order of the council, you are to stand down!” The dragon shifts Bucky, the man still fighting all he can. “Fuck you! Put me down! Hey!” 

Steven is stuck helpless, and fear sets in. 

“I’ll tell you what. I had a lot of respect for you, and I’ll prove it. You choose. The human or yours.” Nick tells him, flying between Steven and the other dragon, a third and fourth swarming above them. 

“The choice is yours.” 

Steven looks between Bucky and the bundle hidden on his person. He seethes, fire-spewing as the turmoil inside of him. The choice is obvious; it should be. Steven has waited centuries for this, a child of his own. That time is immeasurable compared to months with Bucky retrospect. 

But somewhere over Bucky’s stories and his gentle care, the lines have blurred. No matter what he decides, Steven knows he will never recover from the loss.

𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲

Tingles run through his chest, his breathing heavy as he takes in not one but a hoard of dragons all around him. They want something from his friend; whatever it is, Bucky knows he’s involved. A rattle against his tummy from the egg, and Bucky cuddles it closer, closing his eyes as they well with tears. The egg is moving so much in his grasp he’s afraid to drop it so high in the air. The scales are cutting into his skin, blood seeping through the thin material of his shirt. 

The dragons roar and growl around him, and there he is. Suspended in the air, hanging from one’s mouth, curled around an egg like his body would soften the blow if they plummeted. 

His friend looks tired, not flying with the confidence Bucky knows he has. Deep in his mind, he knows what’s going to happen. 

A swish of air, and they"re moving, flying miles. But he won’t open his eyes; for the first time, genuine fear shakes him. A rough landing, and sand splashed onto his legs. Bucky opens his eyes and sees they’ve landed on the stone banks. Hardening land melting to its core surrounded the tides. The sky is dark and heavy, with a storm brewing. 

“Shit, shit!” 

The dragon spits him out, and Bucky rolls hard, protecting the egg from his weight. 

His friend is in front of him, just on the other side of the bank. A look in his deep dark eyes makes something break inside. 

Bucky recalled the old stories after paying a visit to his father. He learned them again. Dragon eggs didn’t always hatch. Whispers passed down told that sometimes heat is not enough fruition to bring life. When he was a boy, before his sister Rebecca. He remembers his ma, her belly round and heavy, her laugh loud and full of life. Then he remembers screaming and agony. She wasn’t round anymore, but there was no babe. 

No one slept in the cradle at his parent’s side. No one to wear the shifts made from cotton. 

And what Bucky knows, that no one then did, is that Dragons feel just as people. Loss is loss, no matter the life. 

He gets on unsteady legs, refusing to let go of the egg as he gains footing. The dragons are perched around the water’s edge. 

Thunder crackles in the sky, rain dropping from the heavens like needles on his skin as he walks. When he finally gets to his friend, he lets go of the breath he’s been holding and sags against the hard crimson scales of his body. “What’s happening?” He glances up and wishes he hadn’t. 

The dragon looks at him with agony in its eyes. Taking in the bloody wet clothes hanging off his frame. 

He knows.

“No. Hey, no. It’s going to happen. These things take time.” Bucky tells him as he sets the egg down in front of him. “Any day now. I can feel it.” He smiles, looking up, hoping the rain washes his tears away. He’s not lying, but he can see his truth is not believed. 

“Please” His voice cracks, barely heard of the loud storm. 

The big dragon lands in front of them with a ground-shaking thud, and Bucky watches his friend stutter out clouds of smoke as he noses the egg across the sand. The dragons in the air fly faster, almost taunting, and the storm drowns his thoughts; he can’t let this happen. This is wrong. 

Bucky runs across the sand, closing the distance to the egg before the intruding dragon can snatch it. He cradles in, feeling his skin break from the trembling, flickering surface. He looks at the dragon, and sneers, shouting over the wind and rain. “You can’t have this! I won’t let you!” Bucky turns around, walking back to his dragon without taking his eyes off the others. 

The one-eyed dragon roars to the sky and the others land on the earth, surrounding them. 

Bucky’s back hits a hard wall, and he turns. Setting the egg back behind his friend’s clawed leg. 

He wipes his face, getting the wet hair out of his vision. He turns to the side and sees the opposing dragon has its eye on him, narrowing. 

Bucky starts to walk, the wet sand soaking his steps. Only getting a couple yards before he’s yanked back. He looks up, his friend lowers their head, almost touching, and is telling him something with his eyes, but Bucky can’t hear it now. 

With his hand on his dragon’s snout, Bucky rests his forehead. “Do you trust me?” 

The dragon blows warm air at him, and Bucky nods, “Then believe me when I say it’s coming. Go, take them, and go. Ple-ease.” 

Bucky doesn’t wait, he takes off in a sprint, closing the distance, the dragons all roar, and close in, but not before he throws himself to his knees. “Take me instead. I don’t care if I live if you leave him be.” 

Bucky looks back through the rain and sees his friend, “Go,” He mouths, waiting for the flight. 

The one-eyed dragon crutches down, heavy black smoke making him cough. 

He braces himself, the dragon rears back, and he watches the gold and red swirling of fire summoned. He can feel the heat from yards away, and without any regret, Bucky accepts his fate. He closes his eyes. 

𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧

“No!” Steven bellows, snatching his egg on one claw and racing to Bucky. 

“Not so fast,” An ugly yellow dragon stops him. “Sitwell.” Steven hisses and lances forward in one swift move, ripping the dragon"s neck in half.

He spits the blood from his tongue and has to watch as Bucky is engulfed in Nick’s flame.

Steven drops to the ground, his wings folding in on him, the soft earth taking him.

“What have I done?” Steven lets out a thunderous roar, making the trees bristle around them, the tremulous waves crashing harder. If there was ever a bout that dragons were not a myth, now it was proven truth. 

Steven feels the anger wash through him. A thousand times more than on the battlefield, he would die a hundred deaths to avenge Bucky.

He takes to the sky, nose-diving as he aims for his former friend. 

“I’ll be damned.” Nick’s croaky voice breaks into his mind. 

Steven loses momentum, crashing into the water. He washes up on the bank to Bucky, kneeling in the sand. His human looks confused and bewildered, just like Steven, about his death. 

“What game do you play, Nick?!” 

The older dragon rears back, pushing off the ground and into the air seamlessly. “It can’t be. That legend died out long before the wars.” Steven glances at Bucky, the human looking pale as he faints. 

—

He barely gets Bucky and the egg back to the den in time. The wind was harsh against his wings, and the storm took heavy cover. Lighting a fire in the center pit, he lays Bucky down on the furs the human brought for comfort over his visits and rests the egg in the heat. 

Hours pass. 

Then days. He’s worried. 

"Was it all for not?"

𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲

Bucky jerks awake, sitting up on hard ground—the cave. He looks around, searching. His dragon is curled around him and the fire, the egg shaking inside the heat. 

“It’s time!” He shouts echoing off the walls. The dragon stirs and comes to understanding. Bucky steps back, watching as the dragon circles the pit, blowing hot molten fire. It feels scalding, even from a distance. Dragonfire can kill a man. But Bucky faced a dragon’s heat and lived?

He watches the dragon lose stamina, hours of fire breathing. Finally, the egg is cracking, the center hatching and his heart drops when he chances a closer look to see what’s happening. “Stop! Stop!” He jumps in front of the egg. The dragon yields but looks angry, trying to push him out of the way with his snout.

“NO! Look!” But Bucky doesn’t think; he reaches into the flames, and with a gentle hand, he takes it. Plopping on the ground, he raises his knees and carefully plucks away the shell. 

The dragon roars, but Bucky points down. “Look.” His voice whispered in the cave. The dragon moves closer, trying not to dislodge Bucky’s seated position. 

He gently holds the shell and tugs. A tuft of blond hair and pink skin has him flabbergasted. “It’s…a girl.” Bucky holds the child to his chest and feels the first stirring of a cry. “A baby dragon.” Bucky laughs hysterically, “A baby dragon. Hey–” He looks at the dragon and finds nothing. 

“Where’d you go?” He can’t stand up with the crying baby in his arm. He looks around the dimly lit cave, “Hello?” Fear sticks Bucky, his heart weak for the second time. 

He looks down at the baby, the cry soft and sniffling. “Hello..little one. It’s me, Bucky.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you.” A deep voice calls from above. Bucky slowly looks up, his mouth falling open as he freezes. A man. Miles of pale skin covered in a fine dusting of hair, naked. 

Bucky looks to the man, down at the baby in his lap, and back up. He lets his eyes trail up, taking in strong muscles, and broad shoulders, honey-colored hair, and blue eyes, pink lips tugged into a smirk. “Steven.” 

Bucky’s tongue is dry from his mouth being open, and his eyes drop down again at the thick, soft cock nestled in a thatch of dark blond curls. “No, my name is Bucky.” 

Deep, hearty laughter makes his body shiver, the baby on his chest asleep now and breathing shallowly. He shakes his head, “Uh,” 

“Hello, Bucky.”

“Hi.” He breathes the word, his eyes wide as the man kneels in front of him, their skin brushing, as the man quirks a brow, “Can I meet my child?” 

“Oh, uh yeah, sorry.” He flushes scarlet and carefully hands over the baby. He reaches over, grabs the fur he brought from home, and helps swaddle the babe. “Here, you go.”

“Thank you.” The moment is heavy, but not with anything terrible, with warmth and love. 

Bucky lays his head on his propped-up knee, watching the man coo at the newborn babe in his arms. He takes the time to examine Steven, looking over him. It’s not that his mind couldn’t piece together where the dragon disappeared, but it’s not until he sees small gashes on Steven’s sides and legs, only to look closely and noticed they weren’t cuts in the flesh, but scales, red, and lustrous in the firelight.

“Beautiful.” 

“Yeah,” Steven breathes.

Bucky scoots closer and smiles at the baby. “Thank you for trusting me.”

Steven looks at him with glassy eyes, “Bucky, what you did today, I will forever be in your debt.” 

Bucky ducks his head, cooing at the sleeping bundle. “No. I did that because that was my choice. Respect me enough to understand that?”

Steven’s lips quiver, and he gives a curt nod. “I do.”  

Bucky and Steven talk, hushed whispers between them. It doesn’t feel different than the months he spent talking to Steven before he knew he could understand.  “I guess, we’re just that close.” 

Steven lays the baby down and takes his hand. “Bucky…you mean a great deal to me. I love you.”

Bucky folds his lips in, fighting a smile. “I feel the same way about you.” Then, he laughs, “Fuck, I sound crazy, telling a guy who I thought was a dragon just a few hours ago I love him.” 

“I am a dragon. I didn’t come into the world this way.” Steven brushes a hot thumb over his knuckles. “A woman, a long time ago, gave me this gift. She saved me.”

Bucky’s brows furrow. His Pa never mentioned anything about dragon hybrids before. “Who was she?” He asks softly. Judging by the look on Steven’s face, whoever she was, she was no longer with them.

Blue eyes look up at him, rimmed with unshed tears. “My mother.” 

—

The night passes, and the peaceful bubble bursts as the day begins. 

He’s woken up by Steven shaking him, frantic. “Bucky, help! Somethings wrong!” He jumps into action, his eyes looking over Steven, and then falls to his lap. The baby is asleep, but she’s lost that newborn pinkness. Instead, her lips are purple, and her skin is turning red. Bucky runs his fingers over her, checking for what could be wrong. While he’s never had a baby, he did help raise four sisters. After he checks her over and can’t figure it out, he panics. “I don’t know. We need help, we need…I know someone who could help!” 

Steven"s fae twists from heartbreak to uncertainty, “I….”

Bucky kneels folding his legs to sit in front of Steven. “Please, he’ll help. My father, he’s who taught me everything. He’s a healer and a believer.” 

“Bucky, what if…I can’t let something happen to her. Please, whatever you think we can do.” Bucky sees Steven swallow, and he feels a pang of how much that means for Steven to trust him with not only his life but his childs. 

—

“We need to go. It’s a few miles" trek to my village. But I promise I’ll keep you both safe.” Bucky rests his forehead on Stevens, the baby cradled between them. “Trust me?”

Steven closes his eyes. “Yes.” 

–

Bucky settles them at his cottage, lighting a fire to Steven’s amusement. The dragon doesn’t want him to go, but he tells Steven to watch for him out the window on the east side. He burst through the door at his parents, looking for his father. 

"Father, Pa, Are you home?”

“Out back!” 

Bucky runs through the cottage and into the garden. His father kneeled in the dirt with a hat on his head to protect him from the sun. He gives Bucky a smile, but he can see the worry wrinkles around his eyes. A gift he never inherited from his father was his ability to stay calm in stressful times.

“I need help.” He begs. 

Bucky tells his father as much as he can while he cleans up and scrubs away the dirt from his hands. Leaving out unimportant bits. ‘I survived dragon fire’ or ‘I’m in love with a dragon.’ 

Pa grabs his case, holding the door open, “Take me to them, son.” 

𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧

Steven paces back and forth in the tiny room. It feels like the walls are caving in on him, his scales wanting to take form and fly. But he looks at his child and shakes his head. He hasn’t shifted the entire time he’s waited for her. He can survive a few days.

The sun is almost set when he sees Bucky come over the hill, another older man beside him. 

Bucky is incredibly attractive in all the ways he thinks he’s not. He’s soft, strong, brilliant, and caring. He’s everything that would make a perfect mate. If only they could be.

Steven is holding the baby when they come in front outside, the older man shutting the door, and Bucky rushing to Steven. “Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine.” He adjusts the shift over the bundle in his arms, looking at the other man. 

There’s something familiar about him, although Steven"s never met him. He looks like Bucky, but it’s more than that; his essence has the same sweet tinge. “You are a Draco.” 

The man steps forward, a kind smile on his face. “I am. George Barnes at your service.”

“A Draco?” Bucky looks between them, but Steven can’t take his eyes off George. “Dragon healer. I haven’t met one since before the great war.” 

George sets a bag on the table, nodding. “Yes, well. We come from the old but live in the new.” He takes out a small box, and looking at the contents. “I practice. We haven’t been back in some time, but Bucky here is my oldest, and he has the blessing.” 

Bucky bites his lip, looking more confused than ever. “Huh? Is that why I survived the fire?” 

George looks at Steven with a warm, friendly smile, “May I see?” and shoots Bucky a look, “And we’re talking about that later.” 

Steven hands over his child in a haze, trusting this stranger with no more than an aura no one else can see. “She’s…like me.” 

George nods, “In a way, it may appear so. But I don’t think she is.” The healer examines her, and Steven and Bucky watch from the sidelines, offering help when they can. 

Bucky is a natural, moving with his father"s word and trusting his gut. 

He lights two torches as time moves. When Geroge finally swaddles his daughter and hands her over, it’s with great care and a smile. “She’ll be fine. Strong little one.” 

—

“What’s wrong? Why is she…changing colors and not eating.” 

The older man sits at the table and starts to pack. “She is what we have only ever referred to as ‘Dreki’. Steven, you said you were not a hatchling this way. You were raised by a human. Is that correct?”

“I was. She was a healer. I didn’t meet another of my kind until I was nearly mature.” 

“It looks as though more magic has been used than one would anticipate.” 

Steven"s brows furrow. “Does it have to do with how many humans were around?” 

Bucky nods like he’s wondering the same. “Yeah, I wasn’t the only one. I actually met Steven because I…found…her.” Bucky’s eyes go wide. “Rumlow and Rollins stole the egg last summer. I found it after…we had a run in on the property.” Steven growls at the mention of the story. Bucky told him, explained it all in the cave one day last autumn, and Steven seethed with anger. He wanted them to pay for what they stole from him, what they did to Bucky. What one implies he wants to do to Bucky. His instincts are hard to check around the two beings he loves. ‘Mine, mine,’

“-could be. Bucky walked me through what happened exactly. Don’t leave anything out.” The brunette takes a sip from a cup and starts to tell the story again, only this time, instead of being in his possessive dragon form fighting his attraction to the human, he hears more clearly. 

“What?” Steven asks, looking at Bucky. 

“It was right before you came. I cleaned the scales, and I nicked my finger. It only bled a little, but it stopped before I returned the egg.” 

“You have the blessing, son. Magic runs through your veins, even just a small amount. Your blood on her shell ignited an unbreakable bond.”

Bucky gasps, “Is that…is that why I went looking for them?”

George agrees, “It’s a calling. A bond formed like that is eternal, and I’ve never read of it happening to a human, Draco or not. If it is how the bond works with dragon pairs, then you are bound to her as she is to you.” 

Steven looks at his daughter, her skin losing some of the red, and her lips are a soft pink. “She choose you.” He whispers in awe. His child knew before even he. 

George bids them goodnight and has a quiet conversation with Bucky outside that Steven tries not to listen in on. 

"What of the village idiots?" George asks, and he can only smile when Bucky whispers that they had been taken of.

When he returns, they sit side by side on the small thing Bucky calls a bed. “So, you have two hearts?” Steven nods, brushing his hand over Bucky’s arm. He can’t stop touching him. “One, they say, is for our mates. You only get one, and a dragon’s life span only extends with a mate. The other is for a different kind of love, one to those close. A protection of sorts.”

“Did you have one?” 

Steven smiles. “Yes. My mother, my sire. She is who had my whole heart. My other, it turns out, was waiting on you.” 

“She really chose me.” Bucky breathes, looking down at her. “What did you see in me?” 

Steven wraps Bucky in his arms. “She knew. An unbreakable bond is for life; she chose you as her protector and you as hers. The other half of her heart will be mine, but it’s not the same. She will love me because I’m her sire. She will love you because you’re her father. All those times you wanted to be near and care for her. I mean, you risked your life for her, standing up to killers who had no qualms of taking your life.” Steven can feel himself getting worked up, and Bucky’s soothing voice brings him back down. 

“I love you.”

“You have my heart, Bucky,” Steven leans close. “Be mine?” Bucky’s lips meet his in the shyest of kisses, and Steven drowns. 

-

“We can’t stay here,” Bucky tells him at first light. “Someone will come. Now that the days are warm, they’ll come.” A stern look on his face. 

Steven knew it was coming but soon felt sick. Today the baby looks better and seems to respond well to the mixture Bucky makes, a substance until she can digest meat in a few weeks time. “Come with us.” 

Bucky kisses him, “Never had to ask.” 

𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲

His father has just left, going to start packing away their belongings. 

“You don’t have to come with us,” 

“Don’t be ridiculous, son. I’ve wanted to move back to my homeland for a long while, and the fact my family will be together is only good fortune.” 

Bucky hugs his Pa and wishes him luck on his travels with their family. He’s nervous. Today is the day they leave a place with people who wouldn’t understand and shits like Rumlow and Rollins, and that Shield knows where they are and never return. 

Good riddance.

Bucky watches the sky, fluffy white clouds giving cover, and loses himself to thoughts of the previous day.

Last night was the first night Steven touched him. Over the last few months, things would get heated, but aside from Steven not wanting to wear clothes, they’ve kept it tame. 

Until kissing under the stars led to Steven sliding his hand between his legs, rutting into Bucky’s hip as he whispers praise in his ear. Bucky could have finished there, under the sweet words of his dragon, but Steven slithered down his body, kissing his newly exposed skin. Bucky was bare from the waist down, his shirt pulled up to his chest, and he lay against the hay, watching.

Steven stroked up and down with his thumb and one thick finger as his tongue slurped against the underside of Bucky’s cock. Then, Steven’s big hand gently squeezed the base and rotated his wrist, stroking Bucky’s bare shaft, “Agh...Ste, Steve—...” He groaned loudly, his hand moving to grip the top of blond hair, attempting to thwart his hips from fucking up into the man’s delectably hot mouth. 

Steven hollowed out his cheeks, bobbing his head before holding him and suckling on the tip. 

Bucky was a sweaty mess against the ground, feeling the dragon tease him with things Bucky had only ever dreamed of. A hot tongue curled around the head of his cock as a hand reached before and cupped his sack in pulsing touches.

His stomach filled with warmth, pleasure making itself known by the reactions of his body; fingers buried and tugged on sweaty honey dark hair, “Steve–wait, I, I–” Bucky couldn’t get the words out, and  His already obscured vision in the dim moonlight whited out with the force of his pleasure, his mouth open in a wordless cry as his dragon swallowed his seed. 

He shivers. 

“Buck-Buck!”

He turns on his heel and barely manages to catch the dragon. “And hello to you too,” He chuckles, running his hand through her hair. 

She looks at Bucky from underneath, lashes white as pure ice, gaze colored to match Steven’s. “I’m ready.” 

Bucky swallows his nerves. “Me too.” Not.

______________

“Steven, are you sure this is safe?” 

“Bucky, we talked about it.” Steven pressed a kiss to his forehead. “We can’t go together. Shield doesn’t know about the egg’s survival, and after what Nick saw you could sustain, I have no doubts he’s going to come for you to get to me. I need to keep my family safe.” 

Bucky nods, shaking his arm. “But she’s literally a baby, Steven.”

“Ah, come on, Bucky. You’ve seen her grow. We mature faster than others, and it doesn’t hurt that she has healer blood in her veins, now does it. She’s just like us,” Steven winks at him. Bucky can tell he’s nervous too. Since they’ve all become a unit, they haven’t been separated for so long. 

“Two days time.”

“Two days time.” 

“Until our flame dies,” Steven kisses him, and he snuggles back, answering, “We survive.” 

________________

Bucky has gotten to watch Steven shift countless times. But never their daughter, Steven has been taking her to the watchlands, away from people, and teaching her since she first burped fire. While he’s known she could, he’s never seen.  Bucky kneels down to give her a hug. “Forever, Vlada.”

“Always, Buck-Buck,” 

“Show me what you can do,” He gives her a grin and watches excitement blooms on her face. She reminded him of Rebecca when she was no more than seven or eight. Steven is behind them, an ever-watchful eye. Bucky never took his gaze off as he watched her shift, sun-kissed skin overtaken by simmering blue scales so light they appeared transparent. Steven had assured him the scales would darken over time and with more exposure to the elements. 

Bucky smiled and approached. Letting her sniff his hand. “Magnificent.” She was smaller than Steven, but that wasn’t surprising. Even the other dragons he saw on that day at the edge were all dwarfed in size by his dragon. 

She nipped his hand, and Bucky chuckled. “Ready?” She bowed her head, and with one last prayer that he wouldn’t hurt a dragon four times the size of a horse, he climbed, careful of her scales, with razor-sharp edges. ‘Yeah, been there done that’

He’s done this only once before, and Steven was all encouraging. Now he wraps his arm around Vlada’s neck and casts one last look at Steven. 

‘She’ll react to you. You’re only the second person I’ve let ride, the first I ate.’

‘Not helpful!’

The large red dragon, looking on from the treeline. Bucky takes a deep breath and focuses on staying calm. “Vlada,” and with a gust of wings, they’re off above the clouds to a new home. A new life.’

Untouchable by fire. 

𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

“You work so hard, Buck. Let me take care of you, please?” Steven gave him that look, the one Bucky pretends to be immune to but isn’t, even after over a year together. 

“It’s no big deal.” He tries to shrug off his dragon’s concern, but the sound of his voice to even him seems unbelievable. Bucky nods and lets himself sink into Steven’s chest at his back. The smell of fire and wet stone was a comfort to him. 

“Smell so good,” Steven rumbled, tracing his nose into Bucky’s long hair. “Just the smell of you can bring me to my knees.”

He hummed, letting wandering hands move from his shoulders down his chest and the pin holding his shift tied. “I want you.”

“Bucky…”

He could feel his face start to crumble, and he bit back a plea. “I want you. But it’s… it’s been a while. Please be gentle.”

“Have you done this before?” Steven asks softly, the metal pin falling to the ground as the cooler air graced his skin. Steven’s touch is heated, making him forget himself quickly. “If you mean by myself, yes, plenty of times.” 

The laces on his pants were plucked, and the fabric shimmed down his legs. “And If I mean, have you ever fucked?” A sharp thumbnail ghosts up his tummy hair, down to the root of his curls. “I…I have..” 

“Hmm, which way did you like it best, my star?”

Steven’s touch has turned to tease, gooseflesh left on his skin in its wake. “B-both.”

“Oh? And do you think you could show me?” 

His breath catches in his throat. "Is Steven really asking him to…?"

“You want me to make love to you?” He wants to look over his shoulder and see Steven’s face. But as he does, a hand grips the base of his cock, and Bucky’s attention is jerked down. “Ah, we–ah, we need something.” Bucky knows of the oil in the cave. He uses it to shine Steven’s scales and Vlada’s when she lets him. It’s never hard to get more, he’s trying to think past the stroking of his dick, and when he comes to it, he puts his hand over Steven"s to hold him. 

“Let me lay down.” 

—

Bucky was half laid, half propped up on a folded fur, a dragon in his lap, rutting his thick leaking dick into his chest. Bucky pulled back from their frantic kiss to watch his dragon as he eased a third finger in, his cock painfully hard and straining against the cleft of Steven’s ass, as Bucky rolled his hips slow and deep, mimicking his fingers inside to do the same, starling a moan so high it was almost a whine coming from the blond. 

“Not yet, honey, just a little more, Stevie.” Bucky eased three fingers into him, massaging his rim and stretching him open. Bucky gave a shuddering gasp as Steven pulled him closer, a hand around the curve of his neck to tow him into a kiss, his heartbeat pounding in his ears and throbbing between his legs as the dragon’s tongue drove its way past Bucky’s lips. He pumped his fingers in and out, curling on command to hear his lover’s pleasure and caressing hot velvet walls as they spread apart. Steven whined into the kiss, chest heaving as he tried to fuck his hips down, chasing Bucky’s hand as he withdrew.

"That’s it, give me your pleasure Steven,” he mumbled, thrusting his hips upwards as Steven clenched around him and took Bucky inside him. “Oh, Oh,” His lips part, and he glances down, Steven’s cock bobbing between them, the thick fluid sticking their skin together, the dark curls at his base matte with oil; his eyes roll as Steven tells him to move, how to please him. 

Steven was everything he didn’t know his body craved. He’s never had a coupling that had him so drenched, so desired, and consumed. He hopes it never ends. The most scrumptious groan spilled from Steven’s throat, “My flame,” as his bound fluttered so sweetly around him and the remainder of his cock slid in with a push of his hips.

Bucky became aware that Steven had started to shift when he felt the sharp tip of the dragon’s tail brush down his leg. Bucky held a tight grip on Steven’s hip, his thrusts getting wilder and faster, slamming down onto Bucky’s lap with abandon as dark, he felt frozen under the gaze of slitted blue irises. “Ste–ve,” 

His hold slacking as the dragon held his right shoulder with one hand, fingertips turned, talons clawed into his flesh, Bucky moans, feeling Steven’s mark on his skin. “Feels–you’re so perfect,” 

Steven growled, arching his back, grinding his dick into Bucky’s stomach, and ducking down to claim his mouth. “I’ve never,” Steven rolled his hips, and Bucky sucked in deep breathes, trying to keep himself from finishing too soon, but it’s been ages since he touched himself, he can feel the heat turn to a boil in his blood.

He was nearly over the brink that he only needed—He gasped, “I love you,” 

Bucky slammed up into him quickly and forcefully, stopping as Steven pulled him to his chest, holding him in his arms as Bucky let out a loud grunt and drove deep, coming inside him.

Steven reached between them, his knuckles brushing his sweat slick chest, and Bucky’s cock gave a valiant twitch as more blood flowed. Steven was touching himself, with Bucky filling him.

He wasn’t as big as the blond, but he worked hard, long hours. His arm could take Steven’s weight for a while, and using that to his advantage, he dropped him down on his not yet softening cock, enjoying the heat that his dragon’s nails caused to leave red marks on his flesh as the dragon started to come, “Yes, yes, love you too, do that again, Buck—” 

Bucky felt himself be covered in pearlescent come, sticking the two of them together.

𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧

Steven was grateful for his strong legs, not buckling by the time they both came down. He was overcome with arousal at the sight of his own cum splatted onto his beloved, marking him. He wanted to take care of Bucky, and he first carried him down the cave tunnels, further into the darkest, until the temperature rose with bursts of vapors in the air.

Steven didn’t let go of Bucky. He just held him closer to his chest and lowered them into the spring. He might’ve thought Bucky had fallen asleep in his arms, but submerging their bodies, the brunette let out a heavy moan and went lax against him, sagging onto him. “That’s nice,”

“Only the best for you, my flame.”