Chapter Text
The city wasn’t like anything he had ever seen, and he almost felt like he had stepped into a Tolkien novel with how others were dressed. Sure, he had seen his fair share of Asgardian fashion at the palace, but that was all court finery; where they were now was Asgard as the everyday person saw it. Even Darcy was in something simpler to help blend in a little, but people still gushed over her when they saw her. It irked Bucky when alphas would look her way, and he tried to be subtle about how he positioned himself in front of her, but he had a feeling Darcy knew exactly what he was doing.
After the third time of an alpha gawking at her, he went to shift his body and felt her hand slip into his, interlocking their fingers. He looked down at her, but she was looking at something in a stall beside them. There was a faint smile on her face, though, and he couldn’t tell if it was because of him or because of whatever had caught her eye. The alphas seemed to back off by this point when they realized she wasn’t going to pay attention to them with Bucky by her side.
What Bucky didn’t notice is that every time he saw something he liked but didn’t think he could afford, she would give the seller a look, and they would nod in understanding. He had looked at everything from leather bracelets to glass figures. She knew he didn’t have much back in his rooms at the Tower. There was still a lingering fear that he would have to pack up and move or that it would be destroyed by HYDRA. At one stall filled with children's toys, he paused and lifted a stuffed bear with soft fur. Darcy watched him with that bear, watched as his eyes went glassy.
She ran a hand up his arm, wanting to offer some form of comfort to him. “What is it?” She kept her voice low so as not to draw attention to him.
“I had a bear once… not quite like this, this one’s nicer,” he said. “But my pop got it for me when he managed to save enough to have a little spendin’ money.” A single tear trailed down his cheek. “It was a birthday gift for when I turned seven.”
Darcy pressed herself closer, not being able to hold back her instincts to comfort him, to ease the sadness in any way she could. “Bucky,” she almost heard her voice break, but managed to hold it together.
He set the bear down despite the fact that it seemed to pain him to do so. “Never knew what happened to that bear,” he muttered, turning away from the stall.
Darcy and the omega behind the counter shared a look, and when she nodded, Darcy mouthed, “Thank you,” and continued to follow Bucky.
He was somber for a bit as they continued to study different items. She bought him a few more leathers for training and for battle. If they mated, Bucky would be offered an apple of Idunn, he would become Asgardian, and would probably join the likes of Sif and the Warriors Three. Maybe he’d train new soldiers, or maybe he would stay by her side as her own personal protector. She didn’t care as long as he was happy doing it.
By the time they reached the inner city, she knew she had spent too much on him, which would probably make him stutter and blush, but it would be worth it. He deserved nice things; he deserved things period. So when she led him into where all Asgardians got their weaponry from, she knew she’d buy him whatever he wanted as his eyes finally lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. Knives and swords all gleamed along one wall while arrows and bows lined the other. Axes were in the back, along with other odds and ends. Gunnar was the owner of the establishment they were currently in and had worked hard to get to the prestige he was awarded with. So when he saw Princess Darcy enter the shop with an unknown alpha, he cocked his head to the side to study them.
He remembered her as a girl coming in with her brothers when it was time for them to begin their training. She had been a small thing, clinging to Frigga’s skirts as she looked at all the shiny, sharp objects. He knew right then and there that when the time came, she would be back for her own weapons. And he had been right; she had entered the shop with Loki one day, and Gunnar had pulled out the weapons he had designed with her in mind.
She was excellent with a blade; most would underestimate her because of her size, but Gunnar knew talent when he saw it. He had seen many come through his shop’s door and could always tell when someone would be good with his weaponry or not.
The alpha beside her was battle-hardened; he could tell by his posture and the way his eyes inspected every blade up on the wall. Gunnar knew he was looking for imperfections; he would find none, and the weaponsmith didn’t take offense at it. It meant that he had a good eye and would take care of whatever blade he got.
“Princess,” he greeted her with a small bow. “What brings you into my humble shop this afternoon?”
Darcy broke away from Bucky, and Gunnar watched the disgruntled look the alpha had at having let her go. He fought back a little smile, he didn’t know what their relationship was quite yet, but it was clear the alpha liked their princess. “Good afternoon, Gunnar. My friend Bucky has been training with Sif and the Warriors Three and needs a sword of his own. Mind helping us find the perfect fit?”
“When have I ever turned Your Highness down?” He grinned then. He looked back at the alpha, who had picked up one of the knives and was studying it. “I’ve got a few options I can show you,” he spoke directly to Bucky.
Bucky turned to look at Gunnar, a careful look on his face. “I’d also like to look at knives as well while I’m here. Throwing knives specifically.”
Gunnar could already tell he was going to like Bucky. “Come to the back, I’ll show you where I keep the special weapons.”
Darcy followed behind them, grinning to herself at the way Bucky seemed to have a bounce in his step as they went. It was good to see him in high spirits again after the teddy bear incident and after what had happened with Ingrid. She was still fuming over that and was ready to rip her cousin to shreds. She had promised Bucky a place of refuge and safety, and her cousin was ruining that promise over some petty childhood grudge.
Gunnar was showing Bucky the weapons forged in Nidavellir and Darcy perched herself on a stool and watched the men talk. Gunnar had a rare talent for matching weapons with people. It could be a bit of magic gifted to him by the Norns, but she also thought that it just came from experience after all his years doing this. Bucky handled a few of the swords, but his face would always scrunch up before he could test the blade out. He would shake his head and hand the weapon back to Gunnar. The weaponsmith didn’t seem to mind that Bucky was being picky; in fact, Darcy believed he was testing Bucky.
Finally, he handed Bucky a dark blade, the metal a gunmetal color with runes carved on the sides. Darcy’s eyes widened at the inscriptions. This blade was not made by the dwarves of Nidavellir; this was one forged by the Norns themselves. Gunnar had never shown this blade to another living soul. When he did mention it, it was about how the Norns had gifted it to him when he was called to the temple one day. They had foreseen a great battle and a warrior who would need the blade.
Her gaze met Gunnar’s and he nodded his head. This blade would be Bucky’s. The two turned back to the man as he inspected the blessings on the side, Darcy knew he was trying to see if he recognized any of the words, but she knew he wouldn’t. Those runes were the language of the Norns, and no one on Asgard had been able to speak that language in a very long time. When he tested the blade, he wielded it as if it weighed nothing.
“I think this is the one,” he told Gunnar after inspecting it a little bit longer. Then he caught the looks on their faces. “What is it?”
Gunnar motioned for Darcy to be the one to tell him. She slid off her stool and wandered closer, reverently touching the blade. “This blade was given to Gunnar by the Norns. He has held on to it for a very long time, and no one but him and the priestesses who gave it to him have seen it.” She traced her hand over the blessings and watched as they seemed to glow, “These are blessings, though I can’t tell you what they say because they are the language of the Norns.” She tore her gaze from the blade and looked up at Bucky, “It was to go to a special warrior when the time was right.”
Bucky looked back down at the blade, eyes widening just a little. “I… I can’t be that warrior.”
Gunnar clapped a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, and for once, he didn’t flinch at the physical contact. “I would not have shown this to you if I weren’t sure. It is a magic blade, and it was calling to me that it was time. Princess Darcy has been here many times, and I know it is not meant for her. It is meant for you.”
She squeezed his arm, “We’ll go to the temple another day and speak with the priestesses. They may have a message for you now that the blade has chosen its wielder.” Then she asked Gunnar, “What’s the blade’s name?”
“Mistilteinn,” he told them.
“Mistletoe?” Both Darcy and Bucky asked at the same time.
Gunnar chuckled, “Aye, though I don’t know why the Norns specifically chose that name for the blade. Seems a bit silly, but I’m not one to question them.”
Bucky sheathed Mistilteinn and strapped it to his side, wanting to get used to its weight and not wanting to piss off the gods to the Asgardians if he turned it down. To be honest, he didn’t really want to turn it down. Something about the blade called to him, and he knew he couldn’t part with it even if he wanted to.
After that, it was less exciting as he found some throwing knives that worked with his grip and weren’t too hard to handle. He walked out with a whetstone and oils to help keep the blades sharp and in perfect condition. He thanked Gunnar for his help and then he and Darcy were headed back to the palace together.
Darcy had her hands wrapped around his arm as they walked both silent for a little while. “I hope that wasn’t too overwhelming back there,” she said at long last. “With Gunnar and the mystical sword who no one has ever seen before.”
Bucky flexed his hand, part of him wanting to wrap his hand around the hilt. “It was a shock at first, but I’m not about to question your Norns. I’ve had enough bad luck to last me one lifetime, I’m not risking it by pissing them off and not accepting their gift.”
“I don’t think you’d piss them off,” she assured. “They might have known you weren’t ready for that yet. Gunnar would have held onto it for you until you were ready as well.”
He hummed, not quite sure he believed her or not. “I’ll take your word for it, Princess.”
She growled and he laughed at the sound. “You get too much enjoyment out of calling me that.”
“Imense enjoyment,” he said, still chuckling slightly at her pouty face.
They continued to bicker all the way back to the palace about her title and how he didn’t need to call her that. Bucky would never stop, though, because despite the protests, he knew deep down she liked it when he teased her by calling her by her title. It was the way her cheeks would turn a light pink and how her breath would hitch slightly. So the nickname would stay for now until her protests became real and she wound up actually hating him calling her that.