the dragon
Pairing: dad!bucky barnes x mom!reader (she/her)
Summary: Bucky tucks your children into bed as they beg him for a made up bedtime story, he goes on to tell them about a fallen knight turned into a monster, a kind princess, and a stubborn commoner boy. The story ends up hitting a little more close to home than you first realized.
Content: fluff, angsty, hurt/comfort (Buckys backstory) domestic fluff, parenting themes, kissing, fantasy storytelling, hints of abuse, trauma, hydra themes, no graphic content.
Word Count: 2.7k
Author’s Note: I’ve been working on this, off and on for two months you guys :_) she’s so much better than I thought it would be. Now my favorite thing I’ve ever written, it’s shorter but I love her sm. dt: @superbassbuck my dad!bucky twin :) I’m really seeing how slowing down and writing for me has affected this fic for the better
ty to everyone who’s checked in on me and your sweet, sweet messages, I see them all and feeling the love <3
The scent of pine needles and damp earth clung to the exterior of your small cabin, a sharp contrast to the warmth radiating from the stone fireplace inside.
Outside, the Pennsylvania woods were settling into a deep, winter hush, the kind of silence that only comes when the world is tucked under a blanket of frost. Inside, however, the air was filled with the chaotic, beautiful sounds of your family.
You sat at the large oak dining table, watching your husband finish the last of the dishes. His vibranium arm caught the firelight, the dark metal and golden grooves gleaming with a soft, dull luster as he dried a plate with a domestic grace that still, after all these years, made your heart ache with a quiet sort of pride.
He had come so far. From the frozen hell of Siberia and the jagged memories of the Winter Soldier to this: a dimly lit kitchen, deep in the silent woods, a wife who loved him, and two children who thought he hung the moon and stars.
“Stop looking at me like that,” He didn't turn around, but you knew he was smiling. He always knew when your eyes were on him.
“Like what?” you teased, leaning back in your chair with a yawn.
“Y’know whach’your doin’”
He placed the last dish on the drying rack and walked over to you, boots thudding softly on the hardwood floor. He placed his warm, flesh-and-blood hand on your shoulder and leaned down to press a chaste kiss to the top of your head. “The kids are riled up because of the snow forecast. I’ve got bedtime duty tonight. You,” he pointed a finger at you, “are going upstairs. I went ahead and started the bath when you were putting up leftovers. There’s some of that lavender oil and salts you like. No worrying about the pantry, no thinking about the laundry. Just a bath. A long one.”
“Bucky, I can help,” you protested weakly, even as the idea of a hot soak sounded like pure heaven. “Ethan was talking about building a fort in his room, and Rebecca is in one of her ‘I won’t wear pajamas’ moods.”
Bucky chuckled, a deep sound that vibrated in his chest. “I survived the 107th, Hydra, and the end of the world. I think I can handle a six-year-old and a four-year-old. Go. That’s an order, Agent.”
You laughed, standing up and stealing a quick, lingering kiss from his lips. He tasted like the peppermint tea he’d had after dinner. “Fine. But if the house is standing by the time I’m out, I’ll be very impressed.”
“Have a little faith, Princess,” he whispered, the nickname a relic of your early dating days that he still used when he wanted to make your knees weak.
You made your way upstairs, stopping by the kids’ rooms first. Ethan was already in his pajamas—mostly, though his shirt was inside out—and Rebecca was currently wrestling with a pair of fuzzy slippers.
“Goodnight, my brave explorers,” you called, leaning in to kiss their little foreheads.
“Mama, Dad says he’s gonna tell us a story!” Ethan exclaimed, his blue eyes—so much like Bucky’s—wide with excitement.
“A good one!” Rebecca added, finally winning the battle with her shoes.
“Well, you’d better listen close then,” you whispered. “Sleep tight my bed bugs.”
You retreated to the bathroom, the steam already thick and fragrant. As you shed your clothes and sank into the scalding water, the tension of the week began to bleed out of your muscles. But despite your husband’s orders, you didn’t completely tune out. The cabin was small, and the acoustics were such that the sounds of the children’s room drifted up through the vents and the hallway.
You leaned your head back against the rim of the tub, closing your eyes, and listened as the man you loved with your entire being, began the nightly ritual.
-
In the bedroom, Bucky sat on the edge of Rebecca’s bed, which was currently being shared by her brother. Both children were tucked under a heavy quilt, their faces illuminated by the soft glow of a star-shaped nightlight spinning alight.
“Alright,” Bucky clapped, his voice dropping into that storytelling register—smooth, steady, and captivating. “Pick a book. We got the one about the fuzzy rabbit, or the one about the—?”
Rebecca pouted, crossing her arms over her chest. “No, Daddy. No books. We know those ones.”
“We want a new one,” Ethan insisted. “A brand new story from your head.” He jabbed a finger into his own temple.
Bucky rubbed the back of his neck. He glanced at the bookshelf, then back at his children’s expectant faces. He wasn’t a writer. He was a man of action, a man of silence. But looking at them, he felt a pull in his chest—a need to give them something real, even if it was wrapped in a shroud of make-believe.
“A new one, huh?” Bucky murmured. He took a breath, settling into the rocking chair beside the bed. “Alright. But you have to stay under the covers. No jumping, no interrupting... well, maybe a little interrupting.”
The kids giggled and burrowed deeper into the blankets, linking arms.
“Once upon a time,” Bucky began, clearing his throat as his eyes drifted toward the window where the snow had begun to fall in earnest, “in a land very far away and a time very, very long ago... there was a Knight.”
“Was he a shiny knight?” Rebecca asked, her eyes wide. “Did he have a horse?”
“He was very shiny,” Bucky smiled. “He was young and brave, and he had a dark green cape that caught the wind. People in the village used to cheer when he rode by because he was handsome and fast with a sword. All the girls in the kingdom thought he was the greatest thing they’d ever seen. But the Knight... he didn't care much about the cheering. He mostly cared about his best friend.”
“Who was his friend?”
“Was he a knight too?”
“Not yet,” Bucky answered. “His friend was a peasant boy. He was scrawny, and he was sick a lot, and he was much smaller than the Knight. People used to pick on the peasant boy, but the Knight never let them get away with it. He’d stand in front of him and say, ‘If you want to get to him, you gotta go through me.’ They were brothers, even if they didn't share the same blood.”
Bucky’s voice hitched slightly, but he kept going. “One day, a great shadow fell over their world. A war was coming. The Knight and the peasant boy, they wanted to help. So they joined the Royal Army. They went far away to the cold, dark mountains to fight the darkness.”
“Did they win, daddy?” Rebecca whispered.
“They fought hard,” Bucky continued. “But in one of the biggest battles, on a bridge high above a frozen river, the Knight made a mistake. He was protecting his friend, and he fell. He fell from the tall mountain, down, down into the white mist. Everyone thought he was gone.”
Ethan gasped, clutching the blanket to his chin. “But he survived, right? Because he’s a brave Knight?”
“He survived,” Bucky said, his voice growing lower, more somber. “But he wasn’t found by his friends. He was found by an Evil Witch who lived in a deep, jagged cave. The Witch was very cruel. He didn't want a Knight; he wanted a weapon. Someone to control. He took the Knight and he hurt him. He used a dark, icy spell to wipe away his name, his memory, and his heart.”
“That’s mean,” Rebecca whispered, her lip trembling.
“It was very mean,” Bucky agreed. “And then, the Witch did the worst thing of all. He performed a ritual that turned the Knight into a Dragon.”
“A DRAGON?” Ethan’s eyes lit up. “Like, with wings and fire?”
“A Dragon made of winter and steel,” Bucky described, his hand unconsciously clenching into a fist. “His scales were cold, and his breath wasn't fire—it was ice. The Witch put a collar on the Dragon and told him who to hurt. For a long, long time, the Knight was gone. There was only the Dragon. The Dragon did bad, bad things, Ethan. He burned villages. He took people away from their families. He forgot that he had ever been a man who loved a peasant boy or a kingdom.”
The room was silent, save for the crackle of the wood in the fireplace downstairs.
“Did the Dragon stay bad…forever?” Ethan asked quietly, now sucking his thumb.
“He thought he would,” Bucky whispered. “He was tired and he was sad, deep inside where the Witch couldn't reach he hurt. But one day, the peasant boy—who was now a Great Captain and a Brave Soldier—found the Dragon. They fought. It was a terrible fight. The Dragon tried to freeze the Soldier, but the Soldier wouldn't give up on him. He looked into the Dragon’s eyes and said, ‘I know you’re in there. I’m with you ‘til the end of the line.’”
Upstairs, in the bath, your breath hitched. You recognized the words. You recognized the pain in Bucky’s voice as he wove his trauma into a tapestry his children could understand. You listened closer…
“After the great battle. The Soldier took the Dragon back to his castle,” Bucky continued. “Not to put him in a cage, or to hurt him, but to help him. But the Dragon was so scared. He still had his scales. He still had his sharp teeth. He thought he was a monster. He hid in the highest tower, growling at anyone who came near.”
“Did the Captain have a family in the castle? Did he meet a princess?” Rebecca asked, her voice hopeful.
Bucky cleared his throat, a small, genuine smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “He did, doll. In that castle, there was a Princess. But she wasn't like the ones in the other stories, she wasn't waiting to be rescued or finding true loves kiss. She was a warrior princess. She had worked for the King’s secret service. She was very smart, and she was so kind, and she wasn't afraid of dragons.”
“Did she have a sword?” Ethan asked.
“She had something better, son. She had patience. Every day, she would go to the tower. She didn't bring a weapon or a shield. She brought food. She brought books. She’d sit by the door and just talk to the Dragon, read to him. She’d tell him about the flowers growing in the garden, or how the sun felt on her skin by the harbor. The Dragon would growl and try to scare her away, each time she came, but she just…stayed.”
“Why?” Rebecca asked.
“Because she saw something nobody else did,” Bucky whispered. “The Dragon thought he was just a beast. He looked at his scales and his talons and he saw a repulsive monster. But the Princess... she looked past the scales. She saw the Knight who had fallen. She saw the man who was hurting.”
Bucky leaned forward, his eyes misty. “One day, the Princess did something very brave. She walked right up to the Dragon. The Dragon roared, baring all his teeth and fangs, trying to tell her to run before he hurt her. But she didn't run…She reached out her hand... and she touched his scales.”
“Did he bite her?” Ethan whispered, leaning into his sister.
“No,” Bucky cooed softly. “He froze. He was so surprised that someone would want to touch something so cold and ugly. And when she touched him, something happened. The spell the Witch had put on him... it started to crack. The warmth of the Princess’s hand was stronger than the Witch’s ice.”
Bucky’s voice was thick with emotion now, the story becoming less of a fairy tale and more of a confession. “Slowly, day by day, as the Princess stayed with him, the scales began to fall away. The Dragon didn't turn back into that shiny, perfect Knight he used to be. He was different now. He had scars. He had a metal arm where the Dragon’s wing used to be. He was quiet, and he still had bad dreams about the fire and the ice.”
“But the Princess still loved him?” Rebecca asked.
“She loved him more than the Knight, loved himself” Bucky said, a tear finally escaping and rolling down his cheek.
“She told him that the scars didn't make him a monster. They just showed how much he had survived. She helped him find his heart again. And the Soldier—his best friend—he stayed by his side too. Together, they protected the kingdom. But the Knight... he decided he didn't want to live in a castle anymore. He wanted a quiet place. A place with trees and a soft bed, far away from the witches and the wars.”
“Like here?” Ethan asked, yawning as the sleepiness finally began to win.
“Just like here,” Bucky said, tucking the quilt tighter around them. “The Knight and the Princess found a little cabin in the woods. And they had two little... little squires. A strong, handsome boy and a beautiful, brave little girl. And the Knight... he realized that he wasn't a monster at all. He was the luckiest man in the whole world. Because the Princess saw him for who he really was... and she decided to stay.”
The room fell into a heavy, peaceful silence. Bucky sat there for a long time, watching the rhythmic rise and fall of his children’s chests. Rebecca had fallen asleep with her thumb near her mouth, and Ethan’s head was lolled to the side, his breathing deep and steady.
Bucky let out a long, shaky breath. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, the metal of his thumb cold against his skin, but his heart felt warmer than it had in decades. He leaned down, kissing both of their heads one last time.
“Sleep well,” he whispered. “The Drag— Knight is on guard. Nothing’s gonna get you.”
He stood up, his joints popping slightly with protest, and moved toward the door. He clicked off the light, leaving only the soft glow of the hallway lamp to guide him.
As he stepped out and quietly pulled the door shut, he stopped.
You were standing there in the hallway. You were wrapped in your thick robe, your hair still damp and smelling of lavender. Your eyes were red-rimmed, and a single tear was wet on your cheek. You had heard everything.
Bucky froze, his breath hitching in his throat. He felt exposed, stripped bare by the story he’d just told. He rubbed the back of his neck again, looking down at his feet like a boy caught in a lie.
“H-hey, Princess,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I thought you’d be sleeping’ by now.”
You didn't say a word. You just stepped forward and wrapped your arms around his waist, burying your face in his chest. You could hear the steady, strong thrum of his heart—the heart of the Knight, the heart that had survived the ice.
Bucky’s breath left him in a heavy sigh as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you tight. His vibranium hand rested on the small of your back, and his human one cradled the back of your head. He buried his nose in your hair, breathing you in.
You pulled back just enough to look up at him. You reached up, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw, moving over the grey stubble he’d grown since retiring. You leaned up on your tiptoes and kissed him—a kiss that held all the years of healing, all the battles won, and all the quiet nights in the woods yet to come.
“The Princess didn't just stay because she was brave, Bucky,” your voice steady and full of love. “She stayed because the Knight was the kindest man she’d ever known.”
Bucky closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against yours. The weight he’d carried for seventy years—the guilt, the shame, the fear—seemed to lighten just a little bit more in the quiet of that hallway.
“You’re a really good storyteller, James Buchanan Barnes,” you whispered into his shirt.
Bucky let out a soft, wet chuckle, squeezing you closer. “I don't know about that. I think I just have a really good ending to work with.”
Reblogs, Comments and Likes are so very loved, encouraged and appreciated! Happy Reading! -isles
