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deliciousangelfestival · 23 days

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I Hate It When You're Drunk - 8

Character: bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Reader

Summary: A forbidden romance between a princess and her bodyguard leads to a dramatic wedding, but their happiness is soon overshadowed by political intrigue and betrayal, testing their love and resolve.

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The empty hall echoed with the sound of heels clicking against the marble floor and the frantic rhythm of heavy breathing. Someone was running.

You sprinted as fast as you could toward where Bucky was. The gunshot had come from the changing room where Bucky had been just moments ago. You had barely finished changing from your wedding dress into another gown for the reception when the noise tore through the air, sending a chill down your spine.

Your heart pounded in your chest, fear clawing at your insides. Did your father have a change of heart? Was Bucky in danger?

As you reached Bucky's room, you gasped at the sight before you. Bucky was on the floor, cradling a man's lifeless body in his lap. The scene was eerily reminiscent of The Madonna della Pietà, with Bucky's anguished face mirroring the sorrow of the famed sculpture.

"What’s going on?" you asked, breathless and desperate for answers.

King Leonard turned to you, his expression cold and calculated. “Another rat snuck in, trying to harm James. But our new head of security, Isaac, took care of it.”

Isaac, who had discreetly concealed his gun, straightened his suit with a calm, practiced elegance. He bowed slightly in your direction. “The safety of the royal family is my top priority,” he said smoothly, his voice carrying a detached professionalism.

"I see," you replied, trying to mask the turmoil swirling inside you. "Could you leave us alone, please?"

“Of course.” King Leonard snapped his fingers, summoning another guard who swiftly moved to lift the lifeless body from Bucky's lap.

Your husband remained silent, his face a mask of shock and disbelief.

As Leonard and the others prepared to leave, he glanced back at you both. “Don’t keep our guests waiting too long,” he warned, before directing his gaze at Bucky. “Change your clothes,” he added, his tone leaving no room for argument. Then, with a final, authoritative nod, he exited the room.

Bucky slowly stood up, his movements heavy and dazed. You reached out to steady him, noticing the blood splattered across his suit. A wave of dread washed over you; this was surely a bad omen—someone had died on your wedding day.

“Are you alright? Did he hurt you?” you asked, your voice trembling with concern as you gently touched his arm.

Bucky shook his head, his eyes distant. “No, I’m fine,” he muttered, still in a daze. “I should get changed.” He moved toward the wardrobe, where a spare suit had been prepared for him.

As he changed, he remained silent, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. The shock of seeing Isaac—the man he had once trusted—turning traitor was still too much to process. Isaac, who had seemed so loyal and full of hatred for the king, had betrayed them all.

“Who was he?” you asked softly, hoping to break through Bucky's silence.

Bucky snapped back to the present, his eyes meeting yours for a moment before looking away. “Just like the king said, another assassin,” he replied, his voice flat and devoid of emotion.

“I’ve known you for too long,” you said quietly, your eyes fixed on Bucky. “I know when you’re lying.”

He flinched at your words, the truth of them hitting home. He sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly as he walked toward you. “It’s true that someone tried to kill me,” he admitted, his voice low and strained.

You stared at him in disbelief. “You? Why would someone try to kill you?”

He shrugged, a casual gesture that didn’t match the gravity of the situation. “I managed to put him down and wanted to ask him some questions, but the new head of security shot the assassin before I could,” he said, letting the half-truth slip from his lips. He hoped it would be enough to satisfy your curiosity.

“Let’s go,” Bucky added, extending his arm to you. “We can’t keep the guests waiting too long.”

Realizing he wasn’t going to share more, you sighed inwardly and looped your arm through his. Together, you walked down the long hallway, your footsteps echoing in the vast space.

As you walked, the image of the lifeless body being carried out of the room replayed in your mind. You kept your expression neutral; under your father’s tyrannical rule, you had seen more than your share of death and had faced countless assassination attempts yourself. You had lost count of the number of times you’d almost died, only to be saved by Bucky’s quick actions.

But this assassin—this man—had looked different. He wasn’t like the trained killers you were used to seeing. He had looked malnourished, haggard, dirty. An assassin should be stealthy, composed, deadly—a shadow that could move unseen. But this man had been anything but. His appearance raised more questions than answers.

You gritted your teeth, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. What was going on? The day wasn’t even over, and already your husband was hiding things from you.

Finally, the two of you reached the large double doors leading to the reception hall. The head butler, standing tall and formal, bowed before opening the doors with a flourish. His voice rang out in a clear announcement, “Your Highness, Princess Y/N and Duke James Buchanan Barnes.”

'Duke.' Bucky could hardly believe it. He had been given a royal title—a position he never thought he’d occupy. As he stepped into the grand hall and saw everyone rise from their seats and bow, a strange feeling washed over him. In the past, he would have been among them, standing to show respect or remaining still like a sentinel. But now, everything felt different. The weight of his new role pressed on him, heavy and unrelenting.

The room was filled with dignitaries and high-ranking officials, all eyes fixed on the two of you. As you made your way to your designated seats near King Leonard, Bucky couldn’t help but feel a mix of discomfort and disbelief.

You took your seat next to your father, the tyrant king, while Bucky sat beside you. You could feel the tension radiating from him, his jaw clenched and his hands resting stiffly on his lap.

Leonard stood from his seat, lifting his champagne glass high, and the room fell silent in anticipation of his words. His gaze swept over the gathered guests, and his voice, deep and commanding, filled the hall.

“To my daughter, Y/N, and her husband, James Buchanan Barnes,” he began, his expression a mix of pride and authority. “Today, we celebrate not just the union of two hearts, but the unity and strength this marriage brings to our nation. May your lives together be filled with loyalty, love, and an unwavering commitment to our great kingdom. To the happy couple!”

“To the happy couple!” echoed the guests as they raised their glasses and drank to the toast.

The reception started in a formal, reserved manner, with dignitaries and high-ranking officials mingling and offering their congratulations. But soon, the atmosphere shifted, becoming more lively and animated. Laughter and chatter filled the room, and the formal lines began to blur as the guests relaxed.

Your friends surrounded you with warm smiles and excited chatter, each of them eager to share their well-wishes. One of them leaned in with a grin, her eyes sparkling. “Your dress is absolutely stunning, Y/N! It’s already gone viral online—everyone’s talking about it!”

Another friend chimed in, laughing, “And let’s not forget about Bucky! He looks so dashing in his uniform; he’s gaining a whole new fanbase!”

Their enthusiasm and joy were infectious, and you found yourself smiling, momentarily caught up in the happiness around you. It reminded you of why you had wanted this day so much—the joy, the celebration, the love shared with friends and family.

As you glanced across the room, you noticed Bucky deep in conversation with Archer, the Defense Minister, and several other military officials, easily identifiable by their uniforms. A pang of sadness tugged at your heart. Bucky didn’t have many friends here; most of the people surrounding him were tied to duty and obligation rather than friendship.

“Champagne, ladies?” Cassian suddenly appeared beside you, a tray of champagne flutes balanced effortlessly in his hand.

Your friends eagerly took a glass, and Cassian gave you a knowing smile. “Ladies, could you give us a moment? I have something to say to the bride.”

“Of course,” one of your friends replied, and they moved away, leaving you alone with Cassian.

Once you were alone, Cassian offered you a fresh bottle of champagne with a sly grin. “Care for a drink straight from the bottle?”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “Are you trying to make me look like a fool?”

Cassian smirked. “Just trying to help you forget your misery. Marriage troubles already, right after the vows?”

Your glare was sharp, and Cassian chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. “I’ve been to a lot of weddings,” he continued, “and usually, the couple is inseparable at the reception. But you two? It’s like you’re miles apart.” He shook his head, feigning disappointment.

“Shut your mouth, or I’ll have you deported,” you snapped, half-joking but serious enough to wipe the smirk off his face.

Cassian raised an eyebrow, still smiling. “You actually have that power, you know.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Are you challenging me?”

His smile widened. “Only if you become queen.”

You rolled your eyes in exasperation and turned away, heading toward Bucky, who was still engaged in conversation with Archer.

As you approached, Archer’s tone was low and serious. “What kind of mess have you gotten yourself into, Bucky? Who was that dead man?”

Bucky sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s a long story. It’ll take time to explain everything.”

“Bucky,” you called softly as you reached them.

Archer immediately bowed. “Your Highness,” he said respectfully before stepping away to give you privacy.

“What were you two talking about?” you asked, your curiosity piqued by their hushed conversation.

Bucky offered a tight smile. “Just some military matters, nothing to worry about.”

“Oh,” you replied, feeling a mix of relief and frustration. You wanted to know more but could see he wasn’t in the mood to share. Your hand instinctively reached for his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze, hoping to reassure him that you were there, ready to support him.

A commotion erupted outside the grand hall, shattering the festive atmosphere of the wedding reception. The heavy wooden doors suddenly swung open with a loud creak, and a group of people entered. Every head turned, gasps filling the room as the guests took in the sight. The newcomers were dressed entirely in black, their faces obscured by black veils that covered them from head to toe.

You and Bucky exchanged bewildered glances, neither of you recognizing the mysterious figures.

Leonard, his face contorted with anger and suspicion, barked, “Guards!”

At his command, the royal guards quickly assembled, forming a tight circle around the intruders, their hands resting on the hilts of their swords, ready for any sudden movements.

The figure at the front, clearly the leader, stepped forward with a slow, deliberate grace. A soft, yet firm voice emerged from beneath the veil, a voice that was unmistakably familiar. “It’s been a long time, Leonard.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You whispered, almost to yourself, “It can’t be…”

The woman in black continued, her voice calm but resolute. “I have no hatred, Leonard. I’ve come only to offer my blessings to my niece.”

She moved forward with an elegant stride, and the tension in the room seemed to make every step echo louder than it should. The guards hesitated, unsure whether to stop her. Her presence seemed to command an unspoken respect, and slowly, they parted to let her pass.

Even now, after all Leonard’s tyranny, the former queen’s influence lingered like a haunting memory. Alicia Svensson, the former queen of Veridian, the widow of your uncle, who was murdered by Leonard in his ruthless rise to power. All of his siblings and their families had perished, except for Alicia. On that bloody day, she had been away, visiting her ailing father in her homeland.

She was fortunate to have survived, but she lost her husband and sons. The grief drove her to madness, and she vowed never to return to Veridian, the land that had taken everything from her.

But here she was, walking through the hall with a quiet authority that silenced the room. Her steps, though soft, seemed to echo with the power of her past. Alicia stopped in front of you and Bucky, her veil still obscuring her face.

“I still remember both of you running through my gardens,” she said, her voice tinged with a melancholy that cut through the silence.

Memories flooded back—days of playing in her lush gardens, carefree and happy, under her watchful, loving eyes. Her sons, you, other kids, and Bucky are playing together. Before Leonard’s betrayal shattered everything.

Steeling yourself, you took a step forward, trying to hold back tears. “Aunt, thank you for coming,” you said softly, reaching out as if to embrace her.

But as you got closer, Alicia leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper only you could hear. “I pity you, dear. You, who know nothing or are too ignorant.” Her long nails grazed your skin, cold and sharp.

You flinched, pulling back, your eyes wide with shock and confusion.

She made the sign of the cross and prayed aloud, “I pray that you will one day replace your father and become a better ruler.”

Leonard’s patience snapped, his face red with fury. “You insolent woman!”

But Alicia was unfazed. “You can’t touch me, Leonard. I am here as a diplomatic guest,” she said, her voice steady and defiant.

Leonard’s lips curled into a sneer. “Then my guards will drag you and your servants out of this house.”

At his command, the guards moved in, roughly grabbing Alicia and her entourage, escorting them toward the exit.

Leonard turned to Bucky, his expression cold. “Make sure they leave the premises immediately.”

Bucky nodded, his face a mask of stoicism. “Yes, sir.”

As the uninvited guests were escorted out, the tension in the room slowly began to dissipate. The remaining guests murmured among themselves, shocked and curious about what had just transpired.

Leonard, ever the manipulator, raised his voice to calm the crowd. “Nothing to worry about, my friends. Please, enjoy yourselves! More champagne, wine, and food!”

But for you, the festive atmosphere was gone. The shooting, the death, and now Aunt Alicia’s ominous appearance—it all felt like a bad omen, a dark shadow over what should have been a joyous day.

With everyone preoccupied and the focus shifting back to Leonard, you found a moment to slip away unnoticed. Grabbing the bottle of champagne that Cassian had offered earlier, you quietly left the ballroom, your footsteps echoing in the empty hallway.

The hall was dimly lit by the moon’s pale glow, casting long, eerie shadows on the stone walls. You walked slowly, lost in your thoughts, replaying the events of the day over and over in your mind. Once you were far enough away, you pulled out the cork with a loud pop and brought the bottle to your lips, drinking deeply. The cold liquid burned slightly as it went down, but it wasn’t enough to drown the turmoil inside you.

One bottle wouldn’t be enough to make you forget. Perhaps you’d find another, or a third, to numb the pain of this day’s bitter revelations.

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