Archive of Our Own ^beta

When he was a young boy, Steve had often enjoyed the quiet pleasure of lying in damp grass, looking up at the clouds and wondering how it would feel if the sky fell down on him.

Now he imagined it might feel something like this.

“I'm sorry, Steven. There's nothing we can do.”

Steve stared at Doctor Erskine, at his nurse, back at Erskine. “I don't understand.”

“Your mother's illness has progressed too far. Without a miracle, I fear she will not be long for this world.” Erskine put a hand on his shoulder, compassion in his eyes. “The most important thing now is to keep her comfortable.”

“No.” Steve shook his head. “She was getting better. We had that – the fortune teller, she said –“

Erskine's face twisted. “I'm afraid she was wrong.”

“That makes no sense,” Steve snapped, louder than he meant to. He wiped a hand across his face, shaking his head again. “She's getting better. Every day. Why –“

“It's alright, Steven,” his mother said from where she was sitting in her wheelchair, her voice strong and steady, at odds with her frail body. “Thank you, doctor.”

“I wish there was more we could do,” Erskine said, and Steve clenched his fists, fighting the urge to grab him and shake him.

“This is because we don't have money, isn't it? If we were rich, you'd do anything.”

“Steven,” his mother said sharply. Steve didn't take his eyes off Erskine.

“It's true, right? You could do more.”

Erskine's eyes wavered before he lowered them. “I suppose... There are some experimental treatments.”

“How much?” Steve asked, ignoring his mother's disapproving glare.

“At least a hundred pence,” Erskine said, and Steve swallowed hard, steeling himself with a nod. A hundred pence. He could earn one a day down at the market, if he managed to find enough work. His mother and him had saved up two and a half groats between them. Ten pence. Steve needed ninety more.

He'd never seen that much money in his life.

“I can work,” he said, surging forward when Erskine's face hardened. “I can assist you. I'm strong. I can... carry things.” He was making a pathetic case, and he knew it. Still – “Whatever you need. I promise I won't let you down.”

“Stop it, Steven,” his mother said. She sounded tired. “I'm sorry, doctor. We'll be on our way.”

“I can help,” Steve said desperately, and Erskine gave him a sad smile, patting him on the shoulder.

“You're a good lad, Steven. I'm sorry I can't do more.”

Steve wanted to rage. He wanted to grab the nearest object and throw it across the room.

Instead he gathered himself, staring down at the floor. “I know. Thank you, doctor.”

He grabbed his satchel and followed the nurse as she started wheeling his mother out the door. A grip on his arm held him back, and Steve looked up into Erskine's kind eyes.

“It's a long shot,” he said, and Steve straightened up, not quite daring to hope. “There are things I'll need to prepare. The process isn't cheap.” He glanced over at the door before he leaned in close. “You don't need to pay me in full straight away. If you can bring me half the money so I can buy what we need, I'll lend you the rest. You can pay me back later.”

Steve lowered his head, squeezing his lips together to fight the burning behind his eyes. “Thank you, doctor.”

“I'm truly sorry,” Erskine said, and this time Steve gave him a smile, hoping it didn't look as pained as he felt.

“Thank you. Truly.”

Erskine nodded and let him go. Steve stumbled out through the door, his heart pounding in his throat. He had a chance. Forty pence to save his mother. He didn't know anyone with that kind of money, but he could work harder. Save up. He could do this.

His mother was waiting outside, looking at him with a frown.

“What did the doctor say to you?”

“Nothing,” Steve said, and her frown deepened.

“Spit it out, young man.”

He could never lie to her. “He'll let me pay half in advance and cover the rest.”

She gasped in outrage. “And you accepted? Steven!”

“I can do it. I'll work hard and save the money.”

“Oh, you foolish thing,” she sighed, covering her eyes with one hand. “No amount of work will earn you that money. And we still need to eat. How do you suppose we do that?”

“I'll think of something,” he said, and his mother gave him a look that was equally fond and exasperated. Steve had to avert his eyes before the pressure in his chest got too much.

“Don't ruin your life for me,” she said quietly, and Steve shook his head in denial. “Steven? Look at me.”

He did as she wished, his heart aching at the gentle smile on her face.

“If the gods will it so, I shall recover. And if not, then it simply means my time has come.” She touched his hand. Steve bit down on his lip, fighting tears. “You'll be alright, my boy. No matter what happens.”

“I can't lose you,” he choked out, and she reached up to stroke his cheek, just like she had when he was a young boy.

“It's not for us to know the gods' plan. Promise me you won't ruin yourself for me.” When Steve was quiet for too long, she gripped his chin to make him look at her. “Promise me.”

“I promise,” he said, and she searched his eyes for a moment before she nodded, letting him go.

“Good. Take us home, we'll have a hearty dinner for a change.”

It would be their last one in a while. At least for Steve it would. He could probably convince his mother that he'd already eaten if he worked longer and came home later in the evening. And a few weeks of tightening his belt wouldn't hurt him.

Steve pressed a kiss against his mother's temple and started wheeling her home. He had a plan. And despite his mother's wishes, he would see it through.

No matter what it took.

“I'm sorry, Steve,” Falsworth said. These words in that order were quickly becoming Steve's least favorite sentence. “But the harvest is almost done. I've already got the Maximoff twins working in the fields. I can't afford another mouth to feed.”

“I understand,” Steve said, his second least favorite sentence. He'd been hearing it a lot these past few weeks, both from his mouth and others. “Thanks anyway.”

“Maybe next year, huh?” Falsworth called after him, and Steve raised his hand in acknowledgement as he walked away, towards the next door to beg for work at. He'd been repeating this pattern for close to a month. Nobody could offer him extra work. Which, in retrospect, shouldn't have surprised him. Steve had never in his life found steady work.

He'd done plenty of it, been hired for projects, sometimes as long as a couple of weeks at a time, but he'd never had the luxury of relying on a steady income. He didn't have a proper education, and there weren't enough businesses in the village who could afford to pay an extra set of hands on a regular basis.

Until now, Steve had been fine with it. He was hardly the only one who made his living that way. But not having a long-term employer meant that there was no one he could ask for advance pay, let alone a loan. Sure, people liked him, people trusted him, but when it came to money, everyone abided by a different set of rules. Trust only went so far when you didn't know where your next meal was coming from.

And meanwhile his mother was getting more and more sick each day. Steve was watching her wither away, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He'd only managed to save three extra pence. The rest had been spent on food and medicine.

At this rate, he was going to have fifty pence by the time he was old and gray and his mother long gone.

Steve didn't often think about his life, but at this moment he was cursing himself for not pursuing a higher education. He knew he hadn't had a choice, not when going to the city meant abandoning his mother in her time of need, but if he had a proper job, maybe he could have afforded her treatment now.

It was neither here nor there. There wasn't enough work, so he needed to get the money in other ways.

His mother had been forced to sell their family heirlooms a few winters ago, so that wasn't an option. Asking for an audience with the noblemen in the city or trying for a loan with the financiers was likely pointless and would take too much time.

His only option was theft.

But who was there to steal from? May Parker and her bakery that barely made ends meet? The Jarvis family and their meagre wage from selling crops? Even Rumlow would be out on his ass if Steve took what little money he had. There was no one in this village who wasn't hurting for funds just as much as Steve was. Aside from Erskine, maybe, but Steve wasn't about to steal from the man who was his only hope at saving his mother.

If Steve went to the city, maybe... but stealing from a noble was as good as a death sentence. Normally, that wouldn't stop him, but if he got hanged in the city, there would be no one left to save his mother. Steve had no way of getting the money.

Except... Steve looked to the mountain that lay past the forest, an old fool's words ringing in his ears –

There's a river of gold in that mountain.

He shook his head, frowning at himself. He couldn't rely on fairytales. And Old Man Dugan had been mad long before he'd started spouting that nonsense. Steve still remembered his wild hair, the stink of sweat and cheap whiskey that clung to him like limpets as he regaled the tavern with his tales.

“There's a river of gold in that mountain,” Dugan said, his head lolling on his shoulders as he struggled to look at Steve. “Seen it with my own two eyes. Piles and piles as high as the ceiling. And the gems – my lord, the colors, how they glittered. An ocean of shiny. Shiny things.” He hiccuped. “Shiny. Like sunlight underwater.”

Steve took a sip from his beer as Rumlow broke into wild laughter at the next table over. “Listen to this guy. Gold, you say? If that were true, the rich pissants in the city would've taken it a long time ago.”

“Nobody dares,” Dugan grumbled into his beard, seemingly lost in thought. “Those who did are all dead. Killed by the dragon.”

Rumlow gave a mock gasp, putting a hand to his chest. “A dragon? Oh no!”

“A terrible, terrible beast.” Steve's stomach churned at the way Dugan's eyes filled with tears, obviously lost to his delusions. “It killed my Rosie. Oh lord, Rosie,” he wailed, slumping forward as he dissolved into sobs.

Rumlow snorted. “The dragons are dead. I should know.” He gripped his sword handle, tilting the blade into the light. “Slayed one of them myself.” His lackeys cheered, and Rumlow laughed gratingly. “Shame you can't say the same, grandpa. Maybe your wife wouldn't have become dragon fodder.”

Steve got out of his chair, glaring at Rumlow. “Knock it off.”

“Oh, someone's brave,” Rumlow said, rising to meet Steve, one hand still on his sword. “You want to take this outside, Rogers?”

“Leave him alone. He's drunk.”

“Fucking wasted is what he is.” Rumlow spat on the ground at Dugan's feet. “And mad as a ding bat. There ain't no dragons in the mountain. And no gold neither.”

“Seen the gold,” Dugan mumbled into the table. “Heaps. Oceans.”

Rumlow raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?” He smirked, hoisting his blade over his shoulder. “Maybe I'll go pay a visit.”

Dugan surged up, staring at him with wide eyes. “Never! You'll be dead before you take a single coin!”

Rumlow laughed, shaking his head as he raised his arm. “Another round! Let's drink to the dragon in the mountain!”

The crowd cheered, and Steve lowered himself slowly back into his seat. He startled when Dugan's hands landed heavily on his shoulders, trembling with strain as he leaned in close. Steve wrinkled his nose at the smell of alcohol on his breath.

“Never take from the mountain,” Dugan said, his face twisted into a pained grimace. “The beast will eat you. Roast you alive. Promise me.”

“I won't,” Steve said, and Dugan nodded gratefully, sitting back down to nurse his beer, staring at something only he could see.

Steve remembered making that promise simply to appease a drunk fool. Now he was reconsidering his options.

It was foolish to place his bets on hope, but Steve didn't know what else to do. Dugan had seemed so sure. As far as Steve knew, nobody had ever tried to verify whether or not the old man had been right. Stranger things had happened.

And stealing from a monster was infinitely better than stealing from his fellow men.

Steve turned on his heel, walking straight back to his house. He headed inside but stopped dead in his tracks when he saw his mother lying on the kitchen floor.

“Ma!” he shouted as he ran over, turning her onto her back. Her face was pale, her eyes darting wildly around the room, and Steve wasted no time carrying her back to bed, feeling her forehead with the back of his hand. She was burning up, so he wet a strip of cloth in the rain barrel outside to cool her down before he grabbed the mix of herbs Erskine had given him and crushed them into powder. He spooned it liberally into a glass of water and hurried back to his mother.

“Here, drink this,” he said, lifting her head to make it easier for her. As she drank, he stroked her hair, only now noticing the trembling of his fingers. “Christ, Ma, what were you thinking?” he asked shakily, and she made a protesting noise, gripping his arm with a weak hand. He smiled despite himself. “I'm sorry, I know. Don't take the lord's name in vain.”

Once she was done, he set down the glass, and his mother turned towards him, her eyes glassy but determined. “You be a good boy,” she said in a raspy croak. “Or your father will hear of it.”

Steve fought hard to keep the smile on his face. “I know, Ma. I will.”

Her head rolled to the side as she closed her eyes, drifting off to sleep. Steve lowered his head and took a moment to breathe before he picked up the glass and put it in the kitchen. Once there, he saw the bucket half-filled with water and the dirty plate stuck inside. His mother must have been trying to do the dishes when she fell.

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose, forcing back the tears. She used to sing when she did housework, old Irish shanties that only she knew the words to. When Steve was very young, she would bounce him on her hip, dancing in the kitchen. Back when his father had been alive.

Steve looked over at the heavy wooden chest propped against the wall, partially hidden under a thin, woolen blanket. He hadn't opened it in years, although he knew his mother often did, if only to reminisce for a little while.

The chest creaked when Steve pushed it open, looking down at the gleaming metal of his fathers armor. He took it out, holding it up into the light so the king's insignia shone. For a long time, Steve had wanted to follow in his father's footsteps, serve his king and die an honorable death. That was before his mother got sick the first time. She'd recovered then.

Steve stood up, holding the breastplate up to his chest. It would probably fit him. The thought was tinged in something wistful that Steve pushed to the back of his mind. Was he really going to do this?

Of course he was. One glance at the bedroom where his mother slept was enough to steel his resolve.

He donned the armor with swift, jerky motions before he reached inside the chest once more and picked up his father's sword, strapping it to his waist. He knew that the blade was still sharp. His mother had always cared well for his father's possessions.

And if there really was a dragon in that mountain, Steve would probably need it.

He'd heard enough tales of fiery deaths to have a general idea of just how dangerous dragons were. And although Rumlow liked to brag about slaying a dragon and had the royal insignia to prove it, Steve had it on good authority that Rumlow had barely escaped with his life.

But then again, Rumlow was an idiot. If he could slay a dragon, then Steve had no doubt that he could too. Steve was younger, healthier and smarter than him. And if all went well, Steve would never even have to fight the beast. He'd just grab the money he needed and slip right back out, unseen.

Steve cast one last look at his mother, lying pale and shaking in her bed, before he headed out the door. Night was just beginning to fall, and Steve used the last light of the day to pick his way through the forest that lay between him and the mountain. By the time he reached the rocky outcrops that marked the beginning of his climb, everything was pitch black except for the moonlight reflecting off the stone, making it hard for him to spot an entrance to the mountain. Figuring that it must lay higher up, Steve started to scale the rocks, hoping for a better vantage point.

He must have been climbing for hours when he finally allowed himself a break. He was sweating under the metal, and Steve deeply regretted not bringing his flask along. His throat was parched, his joints ached, and so far he had seen nothing but rock and more rock. He would have thought a dragon would leave more of a trace – charred stone perhaps, or animal carcasses – but there was nothing. He refused to let himself be discouraged by the lack of signs. If there was an entrance into the mountain, he would find it sooner or later.

Just as he thought it, a strange, dark spot near the bottom of the rock face caught his attention. It took him a few minutes to climb towards it, but once he was there, he saw that it was a formation of bushes. The only plant life he'd seen up here that wasn't weedy little blades of grass.

Intrigued, Steve pushed through the underbrush – and yelped as he lost his footing. He tumbled down a steep slope into darkness, grunting when he hit the ground a few seconds later. Taking a moment to reorient himself, Steve looked up – and saw a tunnel leading further into the mountain, a faint glow emanating from its end that hadn't been visible from the outside. Steve's heart tripped into double time as he hastily pushed himself back to his feet. There was something in the mountain. Old Dugan had been right.

Might be bandits, his rational mind whispered, and Steve drew his sword from its scabbard, holding it out in front of him as he approached the glowing light. The path started sloping upwards as the light grew stronger and stronger until Steve could see the tunnel opening up into a cave beyond, filled with the warm hue of –

Gold.

Steve's sword almost slipped from his numb fingers as he stared open-mouthed at the cave. There was gold everywhere. Heaps of coins, arranged almost whimsically into hills and valleys. Rivulets of ruby red stones and emerald jewels ran like veins through the golden landscape. Crowns, scepters, necklaces and pearls dotted the piles like tiny, blooming flowers. Steve couldn't even fathom the amount of wealth spread out before him.

He had only seen gold once before in his life, a single coin on a trip to the city with his mother. You see that? she'd said, surreptitiously nodding at the nobleman's hand. That's two months of food.

He hadn't quite grasped the enormity of its worth back then. Years of making ends meet had eventually taught him. And now the impossibility of how much money lay before him at this very moment threatened to upend his understanding of it anyway.

He only needed to step down from his stone ledge and he'd be standing knee-deep in gold. The thought was so laughably absurd that Steve could feel an incredulous grin blooming on his face. This was so much more than he'd been hoping for. One step, and Steve could be the richest man in the world. He could – he could –

Steve closed his eyes and took a deep breath. No. He'd come here for a simple reason. Take as much money as he needed and leave without incurring the wrath of a dragon. He didn't need handfuls of gold. A single coin could pay for a horse and probably feed it too. It could buy a winter's worth of crops.

And it could save his mother.

Steve took the leap off the stone ledge, landing on the closest pile of gold with a tinkle of coins. It felt almost obscene to be standing on it, as if it were common soil. But Steve wouldn't be here for long.

He bent down, his eyes inexorably drawn to one specific coin which shone in the low light of the cave, glinting with promise. Steve picked it up carefully, looking at it for a long moment before he closed his fist around it and started his climb back up the stone ledge.

Something moved behind him.

Steve froze, heat prickling along the back of his neck –

And then there was fire, blazing bright in the darkness, a sudden glare that made Steve throw his arms up to shield himself. The flame bounced harmlessly off the wall behind him, but Steve only had a second of relief before a terrible roar froze the blood in his veins. He scrambled up onto the ledge, frantically searching for a place to hide before he saw a nook near the cave wall that looked big enough for him to fit. Steve practically dove inside, pressing himself against the stone and barely daring to peek at the – the –

His knees wobbled when he saw it. A massive, hulking form rising from the hills of gold, red scales glinting like armor. It had to be gigantic, but before Steve could gauge its distance to him, let alone its size, it let out a terrifying rumble that sent Steve huddling back into his hiding spot.

“Who goes there,” the dragon roared, and oh god, it could speak. The tales had never mentioned that. “Show yourself, thief.”

Steve stayed in his nook, trembling from head to toe. The dragon's voice seemed to reverberate through his body, making his hair stand on end. He could feel rivulets of sweat trickling down his back as he heard the dragon breathe in and out heavily, realizing too late that it was sniffing the air –

“There you are.” The growl made his hairs stand on end before he heard a crackling like fire and instinctively dove out from his hiding spot, holding up his hands in supplication as he dropped the golden coin back onto the ground.

“Wait!” he shouted, looking up and feeling his stomach drop all the way to the floor when he saw the flames dancing in the dragon's gaping maw. “Please! I'm not a thief!”

The burst of heat was his only warning, and Steve threw himself to the side, narrowly avoiding the dragon's fiery breath. Something smelled singed, and Steve realized a moment later that it was him, the edges of his tunic burning underneath the armor. He patted the fire out in a panic as the dragon approached the ledge, its head rising up into the air.

Steve felt light-headed with terror as he got his first good look at the creature. It almost touched the ceiling it was so big, like ten houses stacked on top of each other. Giant wings framed its towering form and its chest was littered with golden scales, its throat glowing brightly from the fire within. At the back of its head, jagged scales rose into the air like a spiked crown of bloody gems.

He instantly knew that Rumlow had been lying. Nobody could slay a beast like that.

“I'm sorry,” Steve said, his voice shaking almost as much as he was. “I'm so sorry. I didn't – I'm not a thief.”

“Oh?” the dragon asked mockingly, smoke billowing from the corners of its mouth as it snapped its jaws shut. The sight of its needle-sharp teeth made Steve cower in fear. “What are you then, traveler?”

“My name is Steven Rogers,” he said, and the dragon sneered.

“I asked what you are, not who you are, thief.”

“I'm a – a –“ Steve's mind was utterly blank. What was he? He had no occupation, no past times, no –

The dragon growled, and Steve's spine snapped straight. “I'm a son,” he blurted, the words tripping over themselves as they fell from his mouth. “I have a mother, she lives in the village at the base of the mountain. I live there as well. I'm not a traveler.”

The dragon looked unimpressed. “A son. That goes without saying in this world. Life does not spring from thin air.”

“No, I –“

“You say you're not a thief.” The dragon's tongue curled into a hiss on the last word. “And yet you took my coin.”

“I –“ Oh lord, he was about to die. “I'm sorry, I –“

“Tell me then. What did you come here to do, if not to steal?”

Steve considered lying for all of a second before he fell to his knees, not quite daring to lower his head. “Forgive me. I did come here to steal. I need the money.”

The dragon roared, and Steve held his hands higher, clasping them together in a prayer.

“Please, I don't need much. A single golden coin. You'll barely miss it.”

“Don't presume to tell me what I will or will not miss,” the dragon growled, taking two thundering steps towards Steve. Gold clattered under his enormous weight, rolling around in small avalanches of coin. Steve scrambled backwards, but the dragon was on top of him too fast, lowering its head until it was staring at him eye to eye. Steve could see his terrified reflection in the yellow iris. “Why do you need the gold?”

Steve swallowed hard. “My mother. She –“ He couldn't get the words past his lips. “I need it for her. It's very urgent.”

For a second, it seemed as though the dragon was trying to pierce him with its gaze. Then it harrumphed, its head retreating until it was hovering a safe distance away again. “A thief but not a liar. You are a curious creature.”

“I'm desperate. I wouldn't have tried to steal from you otherwise.” Steve winced, looking down at his feet. “It's no excuse. I shouldn't have come here. I'm sorry.”

The dragon mustered him for a long moment. “The armor you're wearing is not yours.”

Steve startled. “How did you –“

“It doesn't smell of you. And it is too well maintained to have seen battle recently.” The dragon cocked its head, looking strangely curious. “Some silver alloy in the cuirass.” The dragon leaned closer. “The king's insignia. Your father served in the royal army?”

“Yes, he – it was a medal of valor. He fell in battle.”

The dragon nodded. “A fine piece of craftsmanship.” He turned his back on Steve. “I will take it.”

Steve startled. “What?”

“The armor. I will trade you for it.”

Steve didn't even hesitate before he started shucking the armor. His mother might never forgive him for trading it away, but he wouldn't get another chance like this. Either way, he was sure his father would have wanted him to save her. “Thank you, thank you, oh merciful – uh –“

“Tony,” the dragon supplied, and Steve nodded hastily, folding the leather straps into the metal before he bowed deeply and offered the armor to Tony.

“This armor for a piece of gold,” he said, and Tony scoffed.

“Are you mad? I'm not parting with my gold.” Tony bared his teeth. “Not a single coin.”

Steve stared at him, baffled for a second before frustration boiled over. “You just said –“

“I will give you this.” Steve reeled back when Tony's tail swiveled towards him – but Tony laid it down on the gold in front of him, turning it slightly to the side. “Do you see the darkened scales at the bottom?”

Steve squinted to see in the darkness – and indeed there were a few scales that had lost their reddish hue, turned into more of a slate gray. “Yes.”

“Pluck one from my tail.”

Steve's head whipped up in disbelief. “What? But –“

“Make it quick,” Tony said impatiently, and Steve grabbed hold of the closest scale on reflex. It was almost as big as his palm, and when he tugged cautiously at it, it didn't budge. “Just pull it out. Go on.”

“Won't it hurt?” Steve asked nervously, and Tony gave him a long look before he huffed, a small plume of smoke rising from his nostrils.

“It will not. Take it.”

Steve took a deep breath before he firmed his hold on the scale and gave a quick, strong tug. It slid out of Tony's flesh easily enough, clearly detached and deadened already like a snake's shed skin. Steve did not think Tony would appreciate the comparison.

“Any merchant worth his salt will pay you at least three dublons for that,” Tony said, already turning back towards his hoard. Steve looked down at the scale, his heart surging with hope. One single golden doublon would cover his mother's treatment twice over. “Now leave the armor and go.”

Steve hovered for a moment, unsure if he should thank Tony again, until Tony turned back around, an orange glow in his throat as he hissed, “I said leave.” and Steve didn't waste another moment before he scrambled out of the cave, his heart beating a mile a minute.

He didn't stop running until he could feel moonlight on his skin, soft soil under his feet. Steve bent double as he caught his breath, a wild laugh trapped in his throat. He looked down at the scale in his hand, marveling at the way the light reflected off its surface, shiny black like obsidian with fine veins of gold twining through it. It was beautiful.

Hopefully he could fetch a good price for it.

Steve tucked the scale away in his tunic and started his march back down the mountain, feeling hope for the first time in months. Everything was looking up for him.

“You can't buy it,” Steve said flatly, glaring at the clerk. “What do you mean, you can't buy it?”

“We don't trade in... dragon scales.” The look on his face said exactly what he thought about the authenticity of Steve's offer. “Take your business elsewhere.”

“People will pay you a much higher price for this in the city!” Steve snapped, slamming his hand down on the counter. “I'm not asking for what it's actually worth!”

“A dublon for a piece of glittering seashell?” the clerk scoffed. “I suppose it's true what people say. Your mother's illness has driven you mad.”

Steve saw red. “Why, you –“

“Loki! That's no way to speak to a customer,” old Mr. Odin said as he came down the stairs in the back, and the clerk – his son, apparently – gave Steve one last dirty look before he disappeared through the back door. Mr. Odin sighed, giving Steve a smile as he approached the counter. “I must apologize for my son. He has a sharp tongue and no sense of propriety.”

Steve forced his lips into a smile in return. “No matter. Perhaps you can help me instead. I'm looking to sell this.” He slid the scale across the counter. “I got it from the dragon in the mountain.”

He didn't even need to hear Mr. Odin's refusal. The pity in his eyes was enough. “I know times are hard for you right now, Steven. And I would like to help you, I do.”

“I'm not asking for the full price,” Steve said desperately. “One dublon. I was assured it was worth at least three.”

Mr. Odin shook his head and reached for Steve's hand, tucking the scale in his palm and folding his fingers over it. “Whoever gave this to you was playing tricks. There are no dragons left in this world. I'm sorry, but I can't buy this from you.”

Steve wanted to shout. He wanted to lunge over the counter and drag poor Mr. Odin by his hair until he gave him the money. Instead he hid his face in his hand and nodded.

“Alright.” His voice was nary more than a croak, and Mr. Odin patted his hand one last time before he turned away, clearly dismissing Steve. He stumbled out of the shop on numb legs, fighting the urge to cry. Mr. Odin had been his last hope. Every other merchant in the village had already turned him away.

He wiped his traitorous eyes when he heard rambunctious laughter from up the street. Sadly he didn't quite manage to make his getaway before Rumlow and his lackeys caught up with him.

“Look who it is! The dragon whisperer himself,” Rumlow hollered, throwing his arm over Steve's shoulders. He leaned in close as the men around them laughed gratingly. “Here to sell some more of your treasures? A horn? A tooth? Some dragon droppings, maybe?”

Steve shook him off and walked away, not in the mood for Rumlow's jokes. It was a good thing Steve had filled out in his adult years, or Rumlow's goons probably wouldn't have stopped at words. If they had started a fight, Steve didn't know that he wouldn't have seriously hurt someone, angry as he was.

He could still hear their laughter in his ears when he finally made it home, closing the door behind him and leaning against it for a few seconds, eyes closed and breathing heavily. Then he pushed off and dropped his satchel, heading towards the bedroom. “Mom, I'm home!”

There was no response, and Steve immediately panicked, sprinting into the bedroom – but his mother met his eyes, alive and aware. Steve sagged in relief when she gave him a weak smile, her breath whistling through her teeth.

“Sleep well?” he asked quietly, and she nodded as best she could. Her voice had left her a few days ago, and Steve missed it so much he could hardly breathe. But showing his weakness wouldn't help his mother, so he leaned in close to kiss her cheek, running a hand through her wispy hair. He didn't react when a big chunk of it stuck to his fingers, simply kept it out of his mother's sight as he smiled. “I'll make you some soup. You must be hungry.”

She wrinkled her nose, but Steve didn't let her decline, simply walked into the kitchen and heated up yesterday's broth, dicing a little more cabbage to add to the soup. As soon as the vegetables were soft and mushy, he grabbed a spoon and headed back into the bedroom, sitting down at his mother's side.

“I think I'm getting real close,” he said as he fed her in small spoonfuls. “Someone's bound to buy the scale sooner or later. Don't worry, Ma, we'll get you back on your feet in no time.”

She smiled, reaching out to pat the side of his leg. He gave her his best optimistic grin, and they finished the bowl together before Steve put the dishes in the sink, emptying his mother's bedpan and fluffing the pillows for good measure.

“I'll be back later, okay?” he whispered, even though she had already closed her eyes. Two months ago Steve couldn't have kept her down if he'd tied her to a chair; she was always on her feet, cleaning the house, doing chores, caring for their neighbors. Now she was exhausted just from lying in bed all day.

Steve closed his eyes, allowing himself one quiet moment of despair, letting the anguish rush over him and wet his lashes with tears. Then he sucked it all in, swallowing down the grief and straightening his shoulders. There was one thing he hadn't tried yet. It would ruin his life, but if it could save his mother, it would be worth it.

Steve went back into the kitchen and grabbed their biggest knife from the drawer, tucking it into his tunic. Then he snuck outside like a thief in the night, making his way over to Erskine's house.

He stood silently at his window and watched him and his reclusive wife bumbling about their kitchen, smiling and talking. They had to be headed off to bed soon, and Erskine touched his wife's shoulder, guiding her up out of her chair –

Steve's eyes widened when he saw her swollen belly. She was clearly pregnant. Steve hadn't known –

He couldn't do this.

Steve dropped to his knees, choking on a sob as he hid his face in his hands, the knife clattering to the ground. What had he been thinking? He didn't threaten people, didn't break into their houses and – and –

None of this would've happened if he'd just gotten the gold.

Rage washed over Steve like a riptide, forcing his hands into fists. He grabbed the scale from his satchel, the beautiful thing that now seemed nothing but ugly to him, a lie and a joke. A part of him wanted to bury it in a pile of fish guts, but as he looked to the mountain, he knew what he had to do.

The trek to the mountain seemed a lot shorter this time, fueled by his inhuman fury. He stormed into Tony's cave without an ounce of caution, clattering across the golden coins.

“Come out here, you vile creature!” he shouted, kicking the nearest diadem further into the cave. “Show yourself!”

Tony's growl echoed through the empty room, but Steve felt no fear. There was nothing left in him but the rage, white hot and throbbing in his temples. Tony rose from his sea of gold like an ancient serpent, his eyes in angry yellow slits as they found Steve.

“You dare,” Tony roared, and Steve reeled back his arm, tossing the scale with all his might. It hit Tony in the flank, and Steve watched his eyes widen incredulously.

“You cheated me!” Steve shouted, pouring all of his pent up frustration into his words. “You said I could sell this! And yet here I am, and in three days, nobody wanted your stinking scale! Give me back my armor, it's mine, I want it back!” Steve's voice broke on a sob, and he tried to hold it in, but the effort was for naught. He fell to the floor, golden coins digging into his kneecaps as he cried pathetically, blubbering and sobbing. There was no other noise in the silence, but Steve had no way to stop himself, drained and exhausted as he was. What did it matter anyway. His mother was going to die, and there was nothing he could do.

“Please,” he gasped through his tears, shaking from head to toe. “I just need one. Just one. Just give me one coin. I'll never bother you again. Please. Please.”

He cried for what felt like eons before he heard Tony sigh, a great, heaving sound. The gold clinked as Tony drew closer, lowering his head so Steve could see him without straining his neck.

“You said you needed it for your mother.”

Steve nodded, wiping his wet face with both sleeves.

“What does she need it for?”

Steve sobbed again, covering his mouth with one hand as he tried to get himself under control. “She's sick,” he finally forced out through his tight throat. “She's going to die. Maybe today. Maybe tomorrow. I don't –“ He hiccuped, hiding his eyes from the dragon. “I don't think she'll make it through next week.”

Saying it made it true. Steve stopped crying, a yawning void opening up in his chest. He felt numb and empty, his swollen face aching.

“No amount of gold in the world can cure illness,” Tony said quietly, almost gently, and Steve smiled without humor.

“You're right. At this point the treatment probably won't even work anymore.” He got to his feet, his head bowed. “I'm sorry for bothering you again. I'll be on my way.”

Steve turned to leave. He'd almost reached the mouth of the cave when Tony rumbled, “Wait.” Steve turned back around to find Tony giving him an unreadable look. “What would you give up to save your mother?”

Steve didn't even need to think. “Anything.”

Tony cocked his head, as though he'd expected that answer. “Even your life?”

It felt like a trap. Steve nodded anyway. “Yes.”

Tony stared at him for a second. Then he flared his wings before settling them against his back. “Bring her here.”

Steve frowned. “What?”

“Your mother. Bring her here.”

“She's too weak to travel,” Steve said, even as his stomach surged with hope. “And even if I get her here, then what?”

“I can help you.” Tony looked utterly sincere. Steve bit his lip, doubt warring with desperation.

“Like you helped me with your scale?”

He could've sworn Tony winced, his tail curling in on itself. “I promise, I thought you would get good money for it.”

Steve stared at him for a moment longer before he nodded jerkily. “Alright.”

Tony nodded, pleased. They looked at each other for what felt like an eternity before Steve managed to tear his eyes away and leave the cave. He made it back down the mountain in record time, practically bursting into his home and gathering every blanket he could find.

“Ma, we're going out,” he shouted, hopefully waking her up. He grabbed his mother's wheelchair and carried her out from the bed to settle her in. She was shivering, her eyes glassy and unfocused, and Steve cursed under his breath as he swaddled her in her warmest clothes before wrapping the blankets around every inch of her. He kissed her cheek. It was ice cold. “When we get there you'll be all better, I promise.”

A part of him wondered what the hell he was doing as he wheeled her out of their house and towards the mountain. For all he knew, Tony had a taste for sick, elderly women. Maybe he was leading his mother into certain doom.

But he didn't have any other options left. He knew that his mother would probably not survive the trek back down the mountain. If this didn't work, Steve might just as well let Tony roast him alive. He'd be alone.

Forcing such thoughts to the back of his mind, Steve gathered his strength and pushed his mother out of town, straight into the woods and up to the mountain. He was sweating up a storm, and his mother kept making pained sounds under her breath that tore at his soul.

“It's alright, Ma, we're almost there,” he kept saying, looking up to the mountain and wishing it wasn't still so far away. “Just a little longer, then you'll be alright.”

As soon as they reached the rock face, Steve realized that trying to move the wheelchair up there would be more of a hindrance than help. He crouched down in front of her, maneuvering her onto his back so he could keep walking. The chair he left behind. No matter what happened, there would be no need for it anymore.

It took an agonizingly long time before they reached the cave, and Steve couldn't hold back a relieved sigh as they did. He checked on his mother, and while she looked pale and gaunt in the moonlight, she was still breathing. Still alive.

“Just a little further,” he whispered into her hair as he started walking into the mountain. The golden glow of Tony's cave greeted them, and Steve heard his mother gasp in awe, apparently aware enough to see the wonder that lay before them. Steve smiled softly and pressed a kiss against her cheek. “Everything will be alright, I promise.”

He was about to call for Tony, but the dragon must have heard them coming because he rose from his hoard, heading straight over to them.

“Lay her out on the floor. Quickly,” Tony said, and Steve obeyed without question, laying his mother down on the pile of gold. Tony leaned down until his snout was hovering right above her, and Steve flinched when his mother gave a pained gasp, grabbing her hand and holding tight.

“It's alright, Ma. He's going to help. Just don't look.”

Tony sniffed the air, his tongue flicking out like a snake's. “She is on death's door,” he rumbled, and Steve squeezed her hand tighter, frantically searching her eyes.

“Ma? Just hold on, please, hold on –“ He choked on a sob, touching her pale face as her eyes slid shut. “Please. Please! Gods!”

“I can save her.”

Steve looked up into Tony's glowing eyes, his chest tight with desperation. “Do it! Whatever it is, just do it!”

“It is not so easy,” Tony said, tipping his head so he and Steve were eye to eye. “My magic is too powerful. It will kill her.”

“Then what do we do?” Steve asked, completely beyond trepidation. Whatever Tony needed him to do, he would do it.

“You must wield my magic.”

Steve nodded before the words had fully sunk in. “What? How can I –“

“But first you must understand.” Tony waited until he had Steve's full attention before he continued. “If we do this, your soul will be bound to mine. Our lives will be forever intertwined. There is no turning back.”

For a split second, Steve hesitated. Then he sealed the deal with a nod. “Alright. Do it.”

Steve didn't know what to expect. A ceremony or a ritual, perhaps. Instead it happened in the blink of an eye.

One second, he was Steven Grant Rogers. The next, he was more.

He could feel Tony's heartbeat like a distant drum, a soothing presence in the back of his mind that grew stronger and stronger until Steve thought he could feel fire under his skin, not burning or maiming but warming and nurturing. It was the easiest thing in the world to set his hands upon his mother's chest and funnel that feeling right into her heart. His skin buzzed with power, and as he worked, he could feel Tony's surprise and – his pride. Tony was proud of him.

Steve was floating somewhere inside his body, like a man possessed, but it didn't scare him. He was tethered somewhere deeper, in a place that had housed only loneliness for hundreds of years, a growing sense of completeness rushing through him.

You're magnificent, Tony's voice rung in his head, a quieter, more reserved version of the real thing, and Steve shivered at the sound even as he kept feeding magic into his mother's body, fixing what was broken, sealing the gaps –

His mother arched, a tortured gasp ripping from her throat as she convulsed. Steve snapped back into his body so hard it almost hurt, watching in horror as his mother foamed at the mouth, her eyes rolling back into her head.

“Ma!” he shouted, frantically running his hands over her body, trying to channel that energy again, but he couldn't find it, and his mother was dying, oh lord –

You must stay calm. Breathe.

“Ma,” Steve sobbed, grabbing her tight and trying to keep her from flailing. The horrible noises coming from her made something in him crumble, like a candle flickering out.

Steven. Listen to me.

Steve rocked his mother back and forth, bleak despair clouding his mind. He only noticed Tony when the dragon was right on top of him, nudging him with his snout.

“Move aside, Steven.”

He shook his head, hugging his mother close. “I'm not leaving her!”

“Move aside.”

It was a command this time. Steve sobbed as he reluctantly dragged himself away, his whole body aching with every inch of distance he put between himself and his mother. Tony shifted until one of his giant wings slid in between them, cutting off Steve's view.

“No!” Steve shouted, banging his hands against the leathery skin. It budged but didn't bend. “No! Give her back!”

Tony made a sound that sent shivers down Steve's spine, a rumble so deep it felt like the earth itself was quaking with it. For a few seconds, there was silence.

Then his mother screamed.

“No! Ma!” Steve yelled, frantically drawing his sword from its scabbard. He blindly stabbed it at Tony's wing, and Tony roared, whipping his wing out to smack Steve back against the wall. The gust of wind that followed was enough to steal Steve's breath for several seconds. By the time he could sit up, Tony had moved away from his mother. Her screams had stopped, and she was –

She was sitting up. Looking right at him.

“Ma,” Steve gasped, and she smiled, her eyes clear. He scrambled over to her and threw himself into her arms, dissolving into huge, racking sobs when he felt her hug him back. “Oh lord, merciful gods, thank you, thank you –“

“My boy,” she said, and Steve buried his face in her neck, tears staining her clothes, but he couldn't care, he couldn't be anything but grateful, so desperately grateful. “Oh, Steven. What have you done?”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he whispered to whatever deity was listening. Then he raised his head, looking at Tony who was reclining on his hoard, a safe distance away. “Thank you,” he repeated, and the spikes framing Tony's face lifted. Steve knew instinctively that it was a dragon's version of a smile.

You're welcome.

Steve shivered, a little unsettled to hear Tony's voice without seeing his lips move. He could still feel Tony's presence in his mind, but it was a lot weaker now, without the magic coursing through them. Tony felt... happy. Perhaps. Steve wasn't quite sure.

His mother grabbed his face, turning him back towards her. The look in her eyes was stern. “You foolish boy. I told you to leave it be! What did you do?”

“No matter,” Steve said, grinning from ear to ear. “You're alive. Oh gods, you're alive.” He leaned in again, hugging her close – and his mother gasped.

“What is that?” She pulled at his tunic, exposing his shoulder. “Oh lord.” Her voice sounded faint. “Oh lord, have mercy.”

“What?” Steve twisted to try and see what she did – and there was indeed a red and gold mark where there had only been unmarred skin before. Steve touched it gingerly, and Tony rumbled deep in his throat, his wings shifting against his back. His mother's eyes fell on Tony, widening to an alarming degree.

“Oh.” Her grip on Steve's arms turned just shy of painful. “Oh no.”

“Ma –“

“Quiet,” she hissed, never taking her eyes off Tony as she pushed to her feet. “Stay behind me. Move slowly.”

“Ma, it's alright. Tony is –“ He couldn't presume to know what Tony thought of him, but considering the warm glow in his chest – “A friend. He's my friend.”

Her head whipped towards him, fire in her eyes. “What?”

“He's the one who saved you.” Steve raised his hands to calm her down. “It's alright now. You don't have to worry anymore.”

“We're going home,” his mother said, clearly furious but trying not to show it in Tony's presence. “Right now.”

She started dragging him towards the cave entrance – but a growl from Tony stopped them both in their tracks. They watched as Tony rose from his ocean of gold, taking two giant steps until he was hovering over them.

“Steven stays with me.”

His mother's grip tightened, her eyes wide with fear. “What?”

“Our lives are intertwined.” Tony's head swiveled until he was looking at Steve. It felt as though he was seeing past Steve's skin, right into his soul. “He belongs with me.”

His words struck a cord deep inside Steve. He thought he should probably be afraid, knowing that his life had irrevocably changed. But all he felt as he looked at Tony was peace. He'd made his choice. He'd saved his mother. Whatever came next, he would accept.

Tony would never hurt him. He knew that too.

“It's alright, Ma,” he said, giving his mother a smile. “I'll visit you soon.”

“No.” She shook her head. “No, no, no. I'm not leaving you here with this – this –“

“His name is Tony.”

“I don't –“ She cut herself off, taking a deep breath before she sought Steve's eyes. “Whatever he told you, you don't have to do this. Come home with me.”

He could feel Tony's agitation, but underneath it, there was something else. Guilt.

“No,” Steve said, talking to Tony, but the dragon ruffled his wings, turning his back on them.

“You may leave with your mother. Go.”

His mother breathed a sigh of relief, dragging Steve by the arm. Steve resisted for a moment, his heart aching as he watched Tony disappear in the depths of his cave. He didn't want to leave things like this.

“Steven,” his mother hissed, and Steve acquiesced, following her even as he kept glancing back at Tony. Tony didn't meet his eyes again.

The fresh air outside felt like a shock, clearing his head and soothing his frayed nerves. In the distance, the morning sun was just staring to peek over the horizon, bathing the forest beyond in a soft, warm glow. Even further back, Steve could see the village, where people were probably starting their routines, same as any other day.

For a second, Steve felt strangely wistful. Then his mother grabbed his hand, and he looked at her, still in disbelief that she was standing next to him, strong and healthy as if her illness never happened. She squeezed his hand. He squeezed back.

“Let's go home,” she said, and Steve cast one last look over his shoulder at the entrance of the cave, hidden by bushels of green. He could already feel a pull in his heart, drawing him back towards Tony, but he breathed through it, shaking it off. He could always come back after nightfall, when his mother was asleep.

“Alright,” he said, and his mother smiled as she led their way back down the mountain. Steve followed her into a brand new day.

Everything was looking up for them now.

Steve only lasted three days before he went to visit Tony again. The dragon was perched on his hoard when Steve arrived, putting his satchel down on the stone ledge.

“Hello,” he said, feeling a little awkward until Tony looked over at him, his spikes rising in a smile.

“Hello, Steven. You came back.”

“Of course I did.” Steve sat down, dangling his feet off the ledge. “You saved my mother's life. I'll never be able to repay that debt.”

He could feel a pleased thrum deep in his chest. Now that he was back in the cave, it was much easier to discern Tony's emotions. In the village, he'd found himself wondering if he had imagined the whole thing, but now he was sure.

“You have questions,” Tony said, and Steve laughed nervously.

“An explanation wouldn't go amiss, yes.”

Tony lowered his head to Steve's level, and Steve was struck once again by how much bigger Tony was. Standing up, he probably wouldn't even be able to reach the top of Tony's snout. The thought was strangely amusing, and it took him a second to realize that the feeling came from Tony.

“How much do you know about dragons?”

Considering that dragons were supposed to be extinct – “Very little.”

“I see.” Tony stepped back so he could curl up at the bottom of the ledge like an overgrown house cat, laying his head down next to Steve so they were both looking out at the sea of gold. “I've lived a very long life. I've seen wars and death and seas of fire. This is the first time I've ever had a hoard of my own. The first time I've had human treasure.”

Steve startled. “Treasure?”

“Yes.” Tony's eye rolled over to look at him. “Your soul is bound to mine. Before the gods, I have taken a vow to protect you from harm and to keep you safe. As long as I shall live, you will live.”

Steve swallowed hard, feeling a little faint. “Truly?”

“Truly.” Tony looked away, and Steve could breathe again. “And when you die, I too will perish.”

Steve choked, his heart picking up speed. “What?”

“A dragon's hoard is his life blood,” Tony said, as though he hadn't just upended Steve's entire world. “You are my treasure. Our lives are one.”

“That's –“ insane. “Why would you do that?”

Tony glanced at him before averting his eye again. “I've been in this mountain for a long time. Many have come before you. None have left alive.”

Nausea washed over Steve. “You killed them.”

“They tried to kill me. To take what is mine,” Tony growled. “Greedy and hungry for glory. One after the other.” Tony huffed a small cloud of smoke. “They reaped what they sowed.”

Steve still felt faint at the thought of how many people Tony had killed. But he could feel that Tony was sincere in saying he'd never struck first.

“Why not me?” he asked, remembering all too well how close he'd come to being just another one of Tony's victims. Tony was silent for a moment before he rumbled deep in his throat.

“It is a rare man indeed who will try to steal from a dragon to help another. I admired your courage.”

Steve ducked his head, feeling his cheeks heat at the thought of Tony admiring him. There was a curl of amusement in his chest again.

“And I could tell that with you, the bond would take. My mother was adamant that I would recognize the feeling, but until you came here, I had never felt it. Imagine my surprise.”

Steve blinked. “There was a chance that it wouldn't take?”

Tony harrumphed in lieu of an answer, and Steve let the silence stretch, trying not to read into what this meant. He had a lot to think about.

“The sun will rise soon,” Tony eventually said, and Steve startled, surprised to find that Tony was right. Where had the time gone? “You should head back to your mother.”

“I will.” Steve rose to his feet, patting dust off his tunic before he picked up his satchel. He paused when he saw a very familiar scale lying on the edge of the stone wall, even though he remembered tossing it into the sea of gold. He looked up at Tony who was making a not quite convincing effort at nonchalance.

“It is yours,” Tony eventually said, and Steve picked up the scale, tucking it into his tunic. He tried not to think about how right it felt to have it with him again. “Have a safe journey home.”

“Thank you.” Steve hesitated at the cave entrance. “Can I visit you again?”

Tony did his version of a smile, happiness thrumming under Steve's ribs. “Any time you like.”

Steve smiled and waved, heading outside with a spring in his step. If he was humming under his breath for the rest of the day, nobody around him mentioned it.

Over the next few months, Steve slowly settled into a new routine. His days were for his mother, for work and his friends. But his nights belonged to Tony, who regaled him with tales of faraway lands and seemed delighted when Steve told him about his day in return. Steve never would have thought it when they first met, but Tony was quickly becoming the best friend he'd ever had. There was something that drew Steve to him – beyond the bond they shared. His wit, his dry sense of humor, the wisdom in his tales, it all only made Steve ever more eager to know more about him. To know all of him.

Of course his mother had noticed that Steve visited Tony on the regular. She hadn't said anything, but he could sense her disapproval in the way she sometimes glanced at the mark on Steve's shoulder or the dragon scale that Steve wore on a chain around his neck. It felt good to carry a piece of Tony with him everywhere he went. And the satisfied look on Tony's face the first time he saw it on Steve made his chest swell with warmth.

A small part of Steve almost felt giddy to have this secret. Life in the village continued on as it always had, but Steve was forever changed. The comments from Rumlow and his lackeys didn't faze him anymore. Work days flew by in the wake of his eagerness to see Tony again. And his mother was back to her old self, healthier than ever. Steve had never imagined happiness like this, but now that he'd found it, he was never giving it up.

He whistled to himself as he carried a stack of wood over to Sam's place, his shoulders aching pleasantly from the strain when he saw a group of foreigners emerging from the pub, laughing and hollering. Drunkards staggering through the streets in the afternoon was hardly an uncommon sight, so Steve paid it no mind until one of them called out to him, swaying into his path.

“Hey there,” the stranger said, giving him a wide, charming grin. “You from around here?”

“Yes. Steven Rogers,” he introduced himself, and the stranger gave an almost comically deep bow, his eyes sliding up Steve's body in a way that was obviously meant to be seductive – until his gaze caught on Steve's chest.

“My, that's a pretty necklace you have,” he said in a smoky voice. Steve could sense seduction when he heard it, so he took a step back.

“A friend gave it to me,” he said, and the stranger's eyes flicked up to his, too intent for Steve's liking.

“Is that so?” The stranger swayed towards him. “Mind if I take a closer look? Maybe I'll buy one for my sweetheart at home.”

“That won't be possible. Good day.” Steve gave a curt bow and started back down the street, ignoring the laughter of the drunkards behind him. By the time he reached Sam's, he'd already shaken off the encounter, greeting his friend with a smile.

“Heya,” he shouted across the farm, and Sam raised a hand in greeting. Steve put down the stack of wood by Sam's barn, straightening up just in time for Sam to clap him on his back.

“Hiya, Steve. Thanks for dropping by.”

“No problem.” Steve grinned. “Anytime you need someone to carry your things, old man.”

Sam mimed punching him, and Steve ducked out of the way with a laugh. “You're looking good, Rogers. How's your mother?”

“Better every day,” he said, and Sam smiled.

“I'm glad.” His smile dimmed. “I'm sorry I couldn't support you back then. I would have, if I could.”

“I know that.” Steve clapped Sam's shoulder. “Thank you.”

Sam nodded, then wrapped an arm around Steve's shoulders, tugging him towards the main house. “Now come on. Natasha hasn't seen you for weeks. She keeps telling me to invite you over for dinner.”

Steve hummed. “Busy with the kids?”

“Like you wouldn't believe,” Sam sighed. “One is more than enough, but triplets? It's a surprise we've slept at all in the last few months.”

“I'm sure it gets easier.” They ducked into the house, and Steve could already smell something cooking on the stove. Natasha was standing in the kitchen, her face lighting up when she saw him.

“Steve! What a surprise. Are you staying for dinner?”

“Apparently, I am.” He hung his coat on the rack and accepted the kiss on his cheek. “I hope you don't mind.”

“Of course not. You're family.”

Steve smiled and watched as Sam hugged his wife, nuzzling her neck until she laughed and swatted at him with her wooden spoon. He'd missed this, he realized. Being carefree and laughing with his friends. Ever since his mother had gotten sick, there had been no room for anything else.

It was about time he started to live again.

Steve was roused from his midday nap by insistent banging on the door. His mother stirred in the next room, but Steve gave her a reassuring smile and went to answer the door himself, grabbing their broomstick on the way, just to be safe. It wouldn't be the first time that Rumlow had tried to cause trouble in the village.

“Who is it?” he asked through the door, his broom poised to strike.

“King's guard. Open up.”

Steve's grip on the broom went slack with surprise. He opened the door, and sure enough, five of the king's men were standing outside, their armors gleaming in the sun.

“Steven Rogers?” one of them asked, and Steve nodded, confused.

“What's going on?”

The guard pulled out a piece of parchment, holding it out to him. “Our informant tells us that you may have this in your possession?”

Steve didn't grab the parchment, just stared at the drawing of a dragon scale, a slowly dawning horror in his gut. “Who said that I did?”

“A delegation of traveling merchants,” the guard said, and Steve closed his eyes as he remembered the foreign drunkards from a week ago. The stranger had been staring at his necklace.

“I don't know what you're talking about. Good day,” Steve said, but when he tried to close the door, the guard jammed his scabbard in the gap, forcing it back open.

“Steven!” his mother cried when the guard unsheathed his sword and lifted it to Steve's neck. The blade brushed his skin as the guard tucked it underneath the leather band of his necklace and raised it up, tugging the scale out from under his tunic.

“Lying to the king's guard is a punishable offense,” the guard said, right before he cut the leather, dropping the scale onto the floor. He picked it up and handed it off to a different guard who studied it from all sides before he nodded.

“It's real. And fairly fresh.”

The first guard's face lit up with an unholy glee. “So it is true.” He turned hard eyes on Steve. “Where did you get this?”

“I found it near the city. A couple miles east,” Steve lied, and the guard raised an eyebrow.

“Really? Because we asked all of the local merchants, and they told me you'd said that you got it from the mountain dragon.”

Steve gritted his teeth, cursing himself and his big mouth. “There is no dragon in the mountain.”

“No?” The guard raised his fist, and his group filed out of Steve's home, drawing their swords in unison. “I suppose we'll see about that.”

With that, he left. Steve stood frozen for all of a second before he scrambled for the wooden chest, digging frantically for his father's sword.

“Steven, stop,” his mother cried, wrapping her arms around him. “You can't. There's five of them, they'll walk right through you.”

“Let them try,” he gritted out as he pushed her off and ran out the door. The guards were about to mount their horses when he reached them, raising his sword as he stepped into their path.

“Steve!” someone shouted, but he didn't care who, his entire focus honed in on the king's men.

“I can't let you go to the mountain,” he said, and the guard who still held Tony's scale in his fist laughed.

“Son, you are making a terrible mistake.”

“Leave now, and I won't have to hurt you,” he blustered, and the men turned towards him, something dangerous crackling in the air between them.

“This is your last warning,” the main guard said, his eyes hard. “Drop your sword and go home.”

Steve tightened his grip, widening his stance.

“Very well,” the guard said, drawing his sword in one fluid motion. The other guards hung back as Steve and the man circled each other, sizing up their opponent. Steve had never been good with a sword, but he figured it couldn't be much harder than swinging a broomstick. So he reared back and swung hard – and hit open air as the guard side-stepped him and slammed his armored elbow into Steve's side. He went down hard, wheezing at the pain as the guards laughed.

“Stay down,” the guard said, but Steve surged back to his feet with a cry of rage, trying for another swing – and landed on his ass again when the guard struck him with the flat of his blade, right across the chest. It hurt, but more than that it fueled Steve's desperation. Tony didn't know these men were coming. And they were clearly skilled fighters. If they managed to catch Tony off guard –

Steve couldn't let that happen.

“What are you doing?” someone shouted from the street, but Steve paid them no mind, struggling to his feet and raising his sword again. The guard looked annoyed at his persistence.

“You don't know when to quit, do you?” he asked, and Steve grinned through the pain.

“I can do this all day.”

This time, the guard came at him first. Steve raised his sword and managed to block the first blow by sheer luck. The second struck his hip, slicing a long line of pain into his flesh. He gasped, bending double just as the guard kicked out, hitting him in the head and dropping him flat on his back. His vision went dark for a moment, a slicing pain ripping through his skull, and Steve whimpered, choking when an armored foot landed on his neck, pressing down threateningly.

“Give it up before I kill you,” the guard growled before he turned away and mounted his horse. Steve could only watch through blurry eyes as the guards rode off towards the mountain, leaving him in the dirt.

Hands on his shoulders pushed him up, and Steve closed his eyes against the throb of pain in his temples, covering his face with both arms as he curled in on himself.

“Are you alright? Steven, talk to me.”

“Tony,” he gasped, and his mother cursed, wiping at his head with a towel. He smiled weakly. “They'll wash your mouth out with soap, Ma.”

“Don't you joke with me right now, Steven Grant Rogers. You're bleeding.” She tugged his arms away and pulled his eyelids up, looking at his pupils in turn. “We need to get you to the doctor. Come on.”

Another pair of arms dragged him to his feet, and Steve slumped in Sam's arms, barely able to hold himself up.

“What on earth were you thinking?” Sam asked, his voice cold with fury and fear. Steve looked up, his heart sinking when he saw the guards riding off into the distance.

“You need to stop them.” Steve gripped Sam's tunic, staring at him beseechingly. “Please. They're going to –“

An earth-shattering roar cut him off. The sizable crowd that had gathered in the streets due to his tussle with the guards shouted in fear, but Steve looked to the mountain, hope rising in his chest.

Tony was a red blur in the sky, a streak of glittering rubies that drew steadily closer, briefly blacking out the sun as he sailed towards the village. The guards were shouting, pointing their weapons at the sky and riding hard in Tony's direction. Piercing screams filled the air as the people around Steve started running, barricading themselves in their homes, and Steve resisted when Sam tried to pull him away as well, away from Tony.

“No,” Steve barked, struggling against Sam's grip. “Let me go! He won't hurt us!”

“What is the matter with you?” Sam snapped, trying to drag him into the closest house. “Get inside! Right now!”

Steve surged forward, finally managing to pull himself free. He ignored the shouts of his name as he ran into the field, almost buckling under the pain in his head and hip. But he kept going, running after the guards and towards Tony.

“For the king!” the guards shouted loudly enough that Steve could hear them even at this distance, and Tony came up on them fast, swooping low in the sky, his throat starting to glow a bright orange –

And then he rained fire.

Steve stopped dead in his tracks, watching in muted horror as Tony burned the king's guard alive, spitting a thick carpet of flames. The horses reared up in their throes of death, dropping the screaming men onto the ground where they rolled, desperately trying to snuff out the flames. It only took seconds, but to Steve it felt like hours, watching the guards writhe in pain before they slumped, their charred remains dusting the blackened ground.

The silence that followed was deafening. Only the sound of Tony's giant wings remained as the dragon drew closer, landing right beside Steve with an almighty thud.

“Are you alright?” Tony growled, leaning down to sniff at Steve, his nostrils flaring and eyes alight with fury. “You're bleeding.” His voice was nary more than a rumble as he reared back and let out another furious roar. “You're bleeding! They dared!”

“Tony, calm down,” Steve shouted, grabbing hold of one of Tony's claws with both hands. “I'm fine. They're dead. They can't hurt me anymore.”

“They didn't suffer enough for their sins,” Tony growled, and Steve cast a nervous glance at the surrounding houses. He could see several faces staring out at the spectacle, with a mix of terror and awe. Steve tapped Tony's scales, not nearly hard enough for him to feel it, but it got Tony's attention anyway, his anger fading as he leaned down to Steve's eye level.

“I felt your pain,” Tony said quietly, gently nudging Steve with his snout. “You were afraid.” His eyes narrowed in what Steve could feel was self-recrimination. “I should have protected you. I'm sorry I wasn't fast enough.”

“You saved me anyway,” Steve said quietly, feeling a dozen eyes on his back. His skin prickled with trepidation. “You need to leave,” he hissed, hushing his voice even further. “It's not safe here for you.”

Tony blinked at him in surprise that quickly turned into understanding. “I frightened your friends.”

Not just my friends. Everyone.

Tony nodded apologetically. I'm sorry. I did not think of how my actions might be perceived by your peers.

Steve belatedly thought that he should be a lot more afraid. He'd just watched Tony kill five men in the blink of an eye. But the thought that Tony had done it to protect him, had come out here and compromised his secret residence in the mountain for him...

Steve knew he shouldn't like it. He liked it a lot.

“Steven!”

Steve turned and caught his mother in a hug, guilt coursing through him when he felt the tremble in her shoulders.

“Never scare me like that again, you hear me?” she said, and Steve nodded against her hair.

“I promise. I'm sorry.”

She gave a watery laugh, wiping her tears before she turned towards Tony.

“My son was down here fighting for you,” she said. Tony blinked, turning towards Steve with a sudden surge of anger.

“He was what?”

“They were going to kill you,” Steve said indignantly, and Tony reared up like he was going to launch into a tirade before he deflated, giving Steve an exasperated look.

“I'm a dragon, Steven. It's my job to protect you.”

“Well, as far as I'm concerned, that goes both ways,” Steve snapped, crossing his arms. He regretted it when the cut on his hip flared up with pain, and Tony was there immediately, propping him up with his snout.

“He needs to see a doctor,” Tony growled, and his mother stifled a laugh.

“What do you know. The dragon has more sense than you, Steven.”

Steve rolled his eyes, patting the side of Tony's nostril. “I'm fine. Don't go worrying about me.”

“All I do is worry about you,” Tony grumbled, and Steve tried hard not to feel warmed by that. He had a feeling he failed when he sensed Tony's smug satisfaction.

“I suppose you and Ma can start a club,” Steve said, and watched with delight as his mother and Tony exchanged a conspiratory look. He probably shouldn't be so happy to see his mother and his – well, his bond mate getting along, but he really was.

He caught a head poking through a door from the corner of his eye before it disappeared again. Steve sighed. “It's alright,” he shouted loud enough to be heard throughout the street. “You can come out. He's not going to hurt you.”

Steve wasn't surprised when the first door that opened was Sam's. What was surprising was that Natasha was the one stepping out, much to the hissed protests of her husband. She approached them with sure steps, looking up at Tony with narrowed eyes.

“So you're the one Steve's been spending all his time with?”

Steve blinked, a little shocked until he saw his mother winking at him. He sighed. Of course she and Natasha were gossiping about him.

“I suppose I am,” Tony said, dipping his head in a bow. “It is lovely to meet you, young lady.”

“Call me Natasha,” she said. Her eyes narrowed. “I'm sure I don't have to tell you that our Steven has a lot of friends here. If something were to happen to him, we would be immensely displeased.”

“Natasha,” Sam whisper-shouted from where he'd stuck his head out the door again, a look of horror on his face. “Are you mad? You're threatening the dragon?”

Steve could feel Tony's amusement in his chest, but outwardly Tony only bowed his head again, looking Natasha dead in the eye. “I swear on my life that I will protect him. Until the end of my days.”

Natasha gave him a satisfied nod. “See that you do.”

More people were starting to creep out of their houses now, approaching with obvious caution. Steve gave them a reassuring smile before he turned to Tony. “Why don't you introduce yourself?”

Tony straightened up to his full height, towering over the street. “My name is Antonius, third of his name.” His booming voice made some of the villagers retreat into the shadows, while others approached him with open awe on their faces. “I have lived in the mountain caves for decades as your unseen neighbor. We likely would have never met if not for Steven and his bravery.” He gave Steve a smile which he returned. “I mean you no harm. I simply wish to continue our amicable existence side by side. If you do not come to my home to steal, I will not disturb the peace of yours.”

He bowed deeply, and some of the villagers hurried to return the gesture. Others were still giving Tony mistrustful glares. That was until a high-pitched voice startled everyone out of their revery.

“Sir Dragon! Sir Dragon!” The Parker boy seemed to have snuck away from his aunt and was now clinging to Tony's tail, stars in his eyes. “You're so big! Do you breathe fire? Do your eyes glow in the dark? Can you really fly?”

“Peter,” May Parker snapped and surged forward, only to stop dead when Tony chuckled and raised his tail just enough to lift Peter off his feet. The boy screeched with delight, dissolving into giggles.

“All that and more, little one,” Tony said gently. “I see you know a lot about dragons.”

“I know everything!” Peter said proudly, tipping his chin up. “My dad had a book!”

“I should like to hear all about it,” Tony said and set Peter down again. He looked at May who seemed torn between snatching Peter away and fainting. “If your mother allows it, of course.”

That seemed to snap her out of her fugue. “I – yes, I suppose. I – yes.” She put a hand to her forehead, and Steve's mother wrapped an arm around her waist, propping her up.

“Peace, Maybelle,” she said kindly. “A dragon he may be, but a gentle soul besides. He wishes your son no harm.”

May nodded jerkily. “I think I need to sit down.”

There was a flurry of activity as the other children rushed forward to play with Tony's tail, which the dragon indulgently allowed. There was a quiet happiness blooming in his chest that warmed Steve from the inside out, and when he met Tony's eyes, he knew exactly what it meant.

They were both safe.

Steve's visits to Tony only grew more frequent as time went on. Tony had carved out a space just for him at the back of his cave, and Steve had slowly but surely outfitted it with all the essentials so he could stay over whenever he wanted. Tony had helped him a lot, especially when he'd somehow managed to procure running water for him without a well, a tap that functioned like a bottomless beer keg. Steve had been so amazed by it that Tony had helped him to set up a similar system in the village. It had truly changed people's lives for the better.

Now that the villagers knew about him, Tony even deigned to visit him sometimes, much to the delight of the children. With time, most of the villagers got comfortable with his presence as well, greeting him as they would any other visiting traveler. The few who didn't were of no concern to Steve. He was certain that they would come around eventually.

It was an oversight that came to bite him several months later.

Steve was helping Natasha with a big cart of groceries for her family when he first heard it. For a second he couldn't place the noise, but then he realized that he was hearing drums in the distance, rhythmic and foreboding.

“What is that?” he asked Natasha who had frozen in her tracks, listening just as intently.

“It's the king's army,” she said with chilling certainty. Steve felt his blood run cold.

“How do you know?”

“Rattatat, rattatat, rattatat,” she whispered, tapping out the rhythm with her fingers. “I've only ever heard one army that sounds like that.”

Steve shoved the cart at her, cursing when he hit his foot on the wheel in his hurry to get away. “I have to warn him!”

“It's too late,” Natasha shouted after him. “If we can hear them, they'll arrive within minutes.”

Steve looked to the mountain, desperation writhing in his chest, willing Tony to hear his thoughts, even at a distance. You have to leave, he thought as hard as he could. Please. Please leave.

Tony might still make it out undetected if he took off right away, but he had to be quick. Every second counted. Steve had never wished for the ability to fly more than he did in this moment, just so he could make sure that Tony was alright.

Natasha grabbed his hand and squeezed it, leading him towards the drumming. “Come on,” she said. “If they're just passing through, we can head them off at the pass. Hide the evidence.”

Steve followed her on numb legs, only catching her meaning a few seconds later. If the army saw the scorched ground behind the village, there would be no hiding what had happened. The grass had not yet grown back in. Only a dragon could cause such havoc in an open space.

Steve's heart was pounding as hard as the drums when he and Natasha reached the edge of the village, already seeing the king's flags waving on the horizon. As Natasha had suspected, it didn't take long for the army to reach the village as everyone started pouring into the streets to see what the commotion was about.

“Hail, citizens of Brooklain,” the man at the front said. “The king sends his regards. If you would kindly clear the way so we can pass, it would be much appreciated.”

“Are you just passing through?” someone asked from the back, and the man – probably a commander or a general – narrowed his eyes.

“The king's business is his own. But as it happens, his business also concerns you.” He nodded at someone in the back, and Steve was shocked to see Rumlow marching forth, a haunted look in his eyes. “Is this the mountain?” the general asked, and Rumlow pointed at it viciously.

“Yes, yes. In there. The dragon is in there.”

Steve froze, anger and fear alike spreading hot in his gut. Why, that little –

“Dragon?” Natasha asked, sounding surprised and annoyed in equal measure. “Are you still going on about that, Brock?”

Rumlow glared at her. “What are you talking about? I've seen it. We've all seen it,” he shouted, waving at the crowd with a hysterical look in his eyes. “It's massive. At least forty feet tall. Gleaming red and teeth as long as I am tall. Tell them!”

The villagers shared uneasy looks amongst themselves. Steve barely dared to breathe, his heart pounding in his throat –

“Can't say that I have,” Sam said in a lazy drawl from somewhere in the back. Steve whipped around to him with wide eyes.

“I imagine it would be fairly hard to miss,” May mused, and Odin piped up from beside her.

“Aren't dragons extinct?”

A murmur went through the crowd as Steve felt tears pricking behind his eyes. Rumlow was red in the face, spitting mad.

“What's the matter with you?” he barked, waving his arms. “We've seen it! We've all seen it!”

“Must've been too deep in his cups again, the poor fool,” someone said.

“Always talking about dragons this, dragons that. Claims he slayed one in the war, remember?” another said.

“He just hasn't been the same ever since his brother died. It's a damn shame, really.”

The general shuffled uncomfortably. Behind him, the soldiers were exchanging glances.

“Dragons are real!” Rumlow screamed at the top of his lungs. He turned on the general, terror in his eyes. “It'll kill us all. Please, you have to help us. It's in the mountain. I can show you, I swear, I swear!”

The general barely spared Rumlow a glance as he turned to the rest of the villagers, a tight smile on his face. “It seems there has been a misunderstanding. Please step aside so we may pass through.”

“No!” One of his own lackey restrained Rumlow, holding him tight as everyone made way for the army. “They're lying! I've seen it! It was here! It killed five people!”

“Please excuse him,” the lackey said, grinning at the soldiers. “We'll make sure he gets some rest.”

Steve couldn't say anything. He just stood there, a hand over his eyes to hide the tears spilling down his face. When Natasha's hand came down on his shoulder, he took a shuddering breath, desperately trying to keep it together.

“You're not alone,” she said, and Steve nodded, leaning into her until the army was gone and Sam approached them, clapping him on the shoulder.

“That ought to keep them out of our hair for a while,” he said, then seemed to notice Steve's state. “What's wrong? Are you alright?”

“I –“ Steve swallowed hard, wiping his face. “I have to go see Tony.”

“Of course,” Natasha said, giving him a smile. “Say hello from his friends in the village, will you?”

Steve nodded, squeezing his lips together so he wouldn't cry again. Then he ran off, sprinting at top speed towards the mountain.

He was exhausted by the time he reached the cave, but he didn't stop, his heart pumping with adrenaline when he finally found Tony – and stopped dead in his tracks.

“What are you doing here?” Tony asked, pausing in the process of – oh lord, he was burying his treasure. Half of the cave's wall was already scraped bare of soil.

“What are you doing?” Steve asked incredulously, and Tony dipped his head.

“I saw the army approaching. And I heard your message.” Tony shoveled another heap of dirt onto the gold, hiding it from view. “It's not safe for you if I stay here.”

The bottom dropped out of Steve's stomach. “No,” he said faintly. Then again, stronger. “No. You can't leave.”

“My presence is putting you in danger. All of you.” Tony shook his head. “If the king finds out that you were hiding a dragon in your mountain –“

“Nobody will talk. Tony.” He waited until Tony looked at him. “Nobody talked. We'll all keep your secret.”

“You don't know that,” Tony said, and Steve surged forward in desperation.

“Trust them. Please.” He put a hand over his heart. “Trust me.”

Tony stared at him for a long moment, and Steve gasped when he felt the most beautiful feeling spreading right under his ribs, like sunlight shining from within.

“I already do,” Tony said, his voice almost unbearably gentle as he smiled. “But you know that, don't you?”

Steve nodded, tears streaming down his face as he grabbed his chest, cradling that feeling like the precious gem that it was. “I know. I –“ He paused, looking at Tony in awe when he realized exactly what it was. “I love you too,” he whispered, and Tony lit up like a sunrise, bending down to press his face against Steve.

“I love you, my treasure,” he mumbled, and Steve held him tight, knowing that no matter what happened, he would always have this.

And he would do anything to keep it.