Chapter Text
Shrieks of terrified women… the gurgling of men who choked on their own blood… the clang of swords… and the sensation of my blade plunging into an enemy's body. Those were the pinnacle of life's delights. While some sought alcohol or sex to take them to the precipice of pleasures, to me war was what made my pulse race with utmost thrill.
Staring into the eyes of the man who murdered my mother and seeing his life dwindle away was the most exhilarating feeling. He stood right in front of me, face to face, my blade piercing him through the chest and poking out of his back. Still warm blood gushed out of him and onto me... a baptism I longed for the last twenty years. It was a victory sweeter than any mead or wine I have ever tasted. A triumph more ecstatic than any orgasm I had ever had...
I could see the exact moment his clay-brown eyes grew empty... I felt his final breath against my skin… His head drooped as death took him, and his hands, which had been fiercely grasping at my metal arm in an attempt to cling to life, now sank to his side. All that was left was a soulless human-sized puppet dangling from my sword instead of strings. He never had a chance of winning this battle. The moment he took my mother's life all those years ago, he signed his death sentence. And I knew then that I would be the one to deliver it. It was my destiny.
With a swift move that felt like no effort at all, my blade slid out of his corpse. It was like removing a skewer out of a bonfire-roasted chicken. The body slumped to the ground – no longer a king, but just trash that would be tossed over the window into the moat to rot there… and for rats to feast on.
That was it – the mighty king of Sokovia, Helmut Zemo, was dead. His kingdom was mine to take; his people belonged to me now and I could do with them whatever I pleased. If they only bow down to me as their new king, I might even let them live. The North could benefit from having some slaves back home; it's been a long time since we enjoyed the small pleasures of luxury. Perhaps I should slaughter them all, one by one for sheer enjoyment. After all, those people worshipped the bastard. They celebrated him as their god and justified his cruelties as doings of justice. How pathetic. I could think of nothing worse than a bunch of beggars grovelling before you and staring adoringly while pleading for a scrap of food.
Here's a grain for you... and here's a potato. Now leave me alone so I can gorge on a wild boar and grapes and drink my wits away into the night while you starve.
That was the difference between me and Zemo. I knew exactly who I was – a prince of the frozen lands of the North, as ruthless as the harshest blizzards and as hard-skinned as the thickest glaciers. I never needed to pretend to be a saint and never asked to be loved. We, the Northerners, ruled with iron fists and brutality, as only the strongest would survive the merciless winters in our lands. It was an eye-for-an-eye, a life-for-a-life philosophy. According to our laws, death was not a currency, and the weak were not worth the resources. We were the children of Winter – ice flowed through us instead of blood.
As I watched Zemo lying at my feet, just an empty shell of this supposed all-powerful king, I felt a disappointment clouding my gleeful moment. I expected a bit more of a fight, to be honest. Storming the impenetrable walls was exciting enough – a challenge that made me and my generals scratch our heads. And the army was three times as big as ours, armed with adamantium shields and weapons that were given to them by gods to keep them safe from ever falling. Or so they claimed. After hearing such rumours, I had high expectations for an epic battle. The type the people in far lands sang songs about. And yet, it turned out to be a bunch of tales designed to make some cowards tremble. No weapon of theirs stopped a bunch of Northerners from making them fall to their deaths. Here I was in this "impenetrable" fortress, bringing ruin to the kingdom blessed by their gods, who had never anticipated their downfall.
'It took you a while.' Steve's mocking voice came from behind me. I glanced over to see him calmly cleaning blood off his blade with a curtain he had ripped off. One shoulder pressed against a column, eyes gleaming with delight, and lips curled up into a grin. A teasing bastard as always.
'It was quite a letdown,' I confessed. 'Barely even broke a sweat.'
'Me too.' Natasha pressed the heel of her boot onto the guard's oozing wound on his side to see if he was really dead; however, he made no noise to indicate his agony. Only a slushing sound reverberated through the atmosphere. She pouted for a moment before stepping over the corpse and walking up to us; her hair, as red as a bloodbath on the white marble floor, swayed from side to side. 'I don't know about you boys, but I'm still thirsty for some good fight. I'll head out, where all the fun is happening.' She twisted her lips into a wicked smirk.
She was right. From the moment we stormed the castle, we barely saw anyone. Apart from some servants whimpering on their knees and begging for mercy, the castle was eerily empty. All the pompous cowards had either fled or were hiding somewhere among the sewage rats. It came as a surprise to me that Zemo was taking a stand. I almost felt a twinge of respect for the pretentious cunt for having the guts to confront me.
'Now you're talking, Red.' Steve lit up with excitement and threw me a glance. 'Summon us once you are done playing the big mean king, brother. We’ll celebrate the victory the North style.'
I rolled my eyes and waved them off.
'Have fun, you two. Just don't do anything I wouldn't do!'
'There's nothing you wouldn't do.' Steve grinned back at me as he rushed off after Natasha.
He got me there.
'My Lord?' Another voice filled the hallway. It was one of my men – my most trusted guard.
'Yes, Rumlow?' I cocked my head in his direction. Two dark eyes, as black as the night's darkest shadows, glinted with mischief.
'I found a throne room, my Lord.' His teeth appeared as the lips parted, forming a crooked smile. 'And there's a little surprise for you.'
'Oh.' I felt a spark of curiosity, and my eyebrows sprang up in response.
I liked surprises. Rumlow knew me too well by now, and he didn't use the word "surprise" unless he knew it was something I would thoroughly enjoy. I put my blade away and cleaned the blood off my face with a sleeve before uprooting myself from the spot.
Behind his back was a massive wooden door elegantly carved and decorated in golden lines. What a disgusting waste of such a precious material. But what else could one expect of such self-loving so-called nobles? They adorned themselves in crowns and jewels and looked down on the rest of the kingdoms as though they were nothing but maggots. But there's a joke in that. Once these nobles laid down their dead in elaborate coffins, it was the maggots that got to feast on their decaying flesh.
We were those maggots... who got a little impatient and hungry.
Rumlow pushed on the door and the thundering sound filled the arched hallway. Behind lay a grand hall. It was bright with the sunlight streaming into the room through overstretched glass windows. Like every corner of this palace, it was horrendously decorated with columns and statues and painted fat naked babies with wings all over the ceiling. And there was even more gold... It was everywhere I looked and on absolutely everything. It was sickening, really. Judging from the amount of it in this castle, these people must have been shitting it out of themselves. If I were to stay here, I would definitely add some skulls and animal carcasses to add a bit of taste to this place.
As I looked over the whole chamber searching for the surprise Rumlow had promised, my eyes got stuck on the throne in the middle of the hall. It stood on the raised platform. All white and cushioned. I bet their butt cheeks were so delicate that even silk made them break out in rashes. But what was on the throne made my lips spread as far as they could.
Rumlow was right. I fucking loved surprises like that.
There was a woman sitting on the throne. None other than a daughter of a man I dreamed of killing for so many years – a princess of Sokovia. I never in a million years thought I'd find such a priceless gem just sitting there right in front of me. I thought I felt my icy heart pound once from the thrill.
There were rumours about her beauty spreading with the wind across all the kingdoms. Word of mouth mostly, from men to men who shared fantasies about the things they would like to do to her in the privacy of their bedroom. And I had to admit, she was quite pleasant to look at. A very pretty face, sun-kissed skin, and the penetrating blue eyes reminding me of the depths of the ocean that crashed violently upon the shores of my lands. I could see what drove all those men to have the wild fantasies. However, what I had in mind for her far surpassed the bodily desires.
Her screams of agony will be the most beautiful music to my ears.
I stepped forward, heels of my boots crashing against the marbled floor. The thudding sound filled the entire room with thunderous echoes as I approached the throne. We locked eyes, hers piercing me like a butcher's knife and mine brimming with pleasure. Neither of us blinked, as if one of us could vanish instantaneously. As I drew nearer, I could feel the electric charge building up in the air between us. The princess showed no fear whatsoever. I liked that – she had a spirit that I could break.
Even when I stepped onto the platform, placed my hands on the armrest and leaned close to her, she didn't even flinch. There was a lovely scent in the air around her, similar to the flowers that grew outside the fortress walls where we camped the night before the attack. I took a deep breath, savouring the aroma while it lasted. After I throw her in the dungeon for safekeeping, she'll smell more like us. Or maybe even worse...
'I believe you are sitting on my throne.' I said to her. My lips twisted into a smirk.
'By blood, it belongs to me.' She responded calmly, her voice as gentle as a whisper on skin. But her eyes were glowing with a ferocious flame.
The audacity in her made me chuckle. I moved even closer, my lips just a hair’s breadth away from her ear.
'Not anymore.' I growled in a low voice.
Considering that I was looming over her like a hungry wolf over a caught baby rabbit, I expected her to tremble from my closeness. She had nowhere to run but to be my tasty meal. Yet instead, that pretty face turned and our eyes met once again. Her breath felt warm against my skin.
'While I live, I am still my people's princess.'
This girl had balls. It was either her delusional mind or her utter stubbornness; I couldn't tell. I straightened my back and looked down on this spoilt royal brat. I guess my patience was wearing off, as my fingers clamped around her upper arm, digging into that way-too-soft skin of hers, and yanked her ass off my throne. Once she was standing up, I shoved her off the platform and watched her tumble to the ground. She yelped on the impact with the hard surface.
'Oh, so sorry...' I mocked. 'I hope you didn't break a nail. That would be disastrous.'
This time the princess's wrathful eyes snapped back at me as she wrenched her head in my direction. As I revelled in her outburst of anger and grinned from ear to ear, I plopped myself down on the throne. It was about time I reaped the fruits of the arduous battle and put my feet up for a moment. It seemed as if the padding swallowed me like a hungry mouth. The unfamiliarity and tenderness of it all made me uneasy; I wasn't accustomed to it. Back home, we sat on chairs crafted entirely from wood and slept on beds covered with a light layer of hay. Even that was put there for the purpose of keeping warm during the severe winters and not for comfort. So I draped one leg over the armrest and propped myself with an elbow on the other side in an attempt to avoid completely drowning in the padding. Fresh blood from my clothes smeared all over the pristine throne – an improvement, in my opinion.
I fixed my eyes on the royal brat again. She was getting to her feet and using her hands to smooth the elegant dress she wore. That wrathful scowl on her face reminded me of a puppy pretending to be a vicious beast.
'Kneel before your king.' I commanded. Her eyes shot at me like Natasha's daggers at the stuffed dummy targets.
'You're not my king.’ The princess spat her words at me. ‘And you'll have to break my knees if you want to see me kneeling before you.'
Rumlow regarded her remarks as a personal challenge and stepped closer to her, but I silently ordered him to halt by raising my hand. This was too entertaining to just end it like that. I placed both feet firmly on the ground and leaned forward. My elbows settled over the knees as I shifted the body weight.
'You are brave, little rabbit, but not very clever. You should have fled the castle with your pathetic nobles while you had a chance.'
'These are my people.' Her response was filled with determination. 'If they are bound to die from your filthy hands, then I will suffer the same fate.'
My lips twitched into a smug smile. 'As I have said... Not a clever rabbit.' I got up to my feet. The damn throne's plushness was already beginning to irritate me anyways.
I stepped down from the platform and went up to the princess. I clamped my steely fingers down on her jaw. Not delicately, as I wanted her to know I wasn't here to play games. Her sharp glare tore holes in my flesh, but she didn't whine or wail out in agony. Yet, I could see the pain she was attempting to bury beneath those glistening, furious blue glaciers.
Oh, little rabbit... You have no idea how much pleasure it will give me to extinguish that fire in you...
'You will kneel before me.' It was not a threat, as I never threatened. All I did was make promises – I never broke my word. 'And you will call me your king.'
'I'd rather cut my own tongue out,' she hissed, spewing venom at me like a cobra.
How cute.
The little brat needed a lesson in how to respect her sovereign, but not yet. This was too fun for me to just beat her and break some bones until she screamed my name with respect. I wanted to break her… slowly… chisel that pride and stubbornness out of her piece by piece until there would be nothing left of her but a loyal, fearful, whimpering slave.
My fingers slid off her jaw, but my gaze still bore into hers, like maggots searching for the deepest point in the corpse’s flesh to lay their eggs.
'Lock her up.' My voice boomed through the grand hall as I gave orders to my guard, yet my eyes never left hers. 'Somewhere dark and uncomfortable, preferably. With a guard by the door. Can't allow the little rabbit to escape.'
'Of course, my Lord.' I heard Rumlow's footsteps shaking the air as he approached.
His fingers wrapped around her arm, and I saw her mouth tighten hard. Gentleness was not one of the things he was known for; that's what I liked about him. But before he yanked her out of my sight, I added, 'And make sure everyone knows to keep their hands off her. She is only mine to play with.'