Chapter Text
She is hiding in a closet. The combined smells of her and Bucky are overwhelming her. Still, she cannot find it in herself to leave the safety of the oppressive dark surrounding her. She had always liked small and pressing spaces, even before she was a vampire. Wanda once asked her as a joke why she didn't sleep in a coffin if she liked the dark so much. She told her friend that just because she didn't sleep in a coffin didn't mean that she didn't own a coffin. She does, actually. As a matter of fact, she has a few of them. If she is going to be a cliche, she may as well go all out. Bucky had... Oh, Gods, Bucky. The thought of him makes her cringe at herself in embarrassment. He is, after all, the one she is hiding from- Bucky and his pack and their wedding. The dress she wears poofs up around her as she drops hard onto the carpeted floor below.
One of Bucky's gigantic shoes digs into her back, but she shoves it aside as she curls up into a ball and contemplates her life choices. It isn't that she doesn't love Bucky. No, she loves him so much that it makes her sick. It's the fact that she's having a wedding. It's the food and the drinks and the dancing. It's the people talking at her. It's this stupid dress that she got talked into buying. This whole situation makes her itch, but it is her own fault. Bucky had asked and asked and asked if she was okay with a big wedding. He had told her he was okay if they just made it official at a courthouse. But she had told him yes each time, thinking that once the day came, she would be fine. She had talked about it ad naseam to her therapist, and poor Doctor Greenbaum had most assuredly gotten sick of the whole thing. He was just too kind to say so.
She groans in frustration, pushing the veil out of her eyes. The plan was a Pagan approach to a traditional wedding, her decision, but she still agreed to wear the white dress, heels, and the stupid veil. Her feet hurt in said heels she had decided to wear while under duress (at least it felt like it was. Sharon Carter is an excellent negotiator.). She curses at herself again. She should feel so lucky to have a wedding like this. The girls in her old life wished for lavishness like this but rarely got anything close to it. That's just it, isn't it? She never thought she would get married at all (thought her father would kill her before she even got that old), but here she is, eons later, hiding in a closet to avoid the whole thing. She feels a strange sense of guilt that she got to live this long to see the change in the world while her friends from her old life passed on, forgotten save for the lone vampire who remembered their names.
Marina, Anna, Katarzyna. Hanna, Seńka, and little Zofia.
She thinks about them frequently, wonders how they would react to this strange new place.
A knock on the closet door rouses her from her thoughts. It isn't Bucky, though she can sense that he is hovering nearby and trying not to seem like he is doing so. She wipes her hands on her dress.
"Yes?" she calls, proud that her voice wavers only slightly.
"Might we talk for a moment?"
Thor. He is an old friend of Bucky's, the one who is going to do the ceremony. He is even older than she is. He claims to be a God, but she is doubtful even though she can see how old he is and how omniscient he is. She gets up from the floor. She can see Bucky fiddling with his fingers as he tries not to look like she is scaring him. Thor steps inside the closet and closes the door. She has to crane her neck to look him in the eye; that's how tall he is.
"Shall we sit?" Thor says.
She sits down near him. Thor does not look at her. He stares off into the distance, looking contemplative.
"James has spoken to me. He says he believes that you were not truthful when you said that you agreed to a big celebration."
"I love him," she says, glaring.
"That I do not doubt, nor was that at all relevant to what I am saying. This wedding, however, is something you are not fond of. I have known many vampires. None would have liked a party such as this."
"No."
"Yet you didn't share your concerns with James."
"...No." She meets Thor's eyes. He stares at her, his keen eyes encouraging her to talk in a way that seems unnatural like he is in her head pulling the thoughts from her mind and pushing them from her mouth. So she does as he asks, finding it simpler than she initially thought.
"I didn't want to disappoint him. I know he wanted a big wedding. I know wolves like to have huge parties for every little thing. It seemed cruel to deny him. He's been so happy planning everything like he's been waiting his whole life to do this. I- I never even thought I'd fall in love, let alone get married, let alone be alive four-hundred years into the future. I was never a dreamer. I knew how my life would end. My best friend, though. Hanna would have loved this. After I was turned, I never learned what happened to anyone from my town, but I knew what happened to her. It made me terribly sad."
"Eternal life is both a blessing and a curse," Thor says sagely. "I have been alive since the Scandanavian Iron Age, as the mortals of this realm refer to it. I have seen many ages of all of the worlds come and go. Your friends lived a full life with a love of their own, and they would not want you to feel guilt over something as inevitable as the passage of time. I believe they are happy for you."
She stays silent, chewing her lip.
"Love like that which you found with James is scarce," Thor adds.
"Not in a wolfpack," she says.
"Yes, in a wolfpack. I have never known of a werewolf to take a vampire as their mate. It is said that there is something in their biology that denies that type of connection."
"You're talking like we're something out of a romance novel."
"Perhaps you are. You and James have finally found each other. He has been waiting for you as long as you have been waiting for him."
"Right."
"You do not believe me? The idea of a soulmate is not a new one. One's perfect match tied together through all of space and time. You simply happened to be born first. You were bound to meet- if not in this life, certainly in the next."
"You're a romantic, aren't you, Thor?" she asks.
"Indeed, I am," he says, twisting his mouth into a kind of bitter, ironic smile. "Her name is Jane. You will meet her later."
"Is she?"
"Mortal? Yes, she is. But such are the ways of the universe. I dare not question it."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. I love her, and she loves me. Anything else that arises we will deal with head-on. Now, as for the celebration, we still have some time. The sun has not yet set. What would you like to do?"
"I don't know."
Thor thinks for a moment. "Less glittery shoes, for a start, I should say. Then a dress with less... width."
"Yeah, good idea," she says, kicking off her heels and cracking her toes.
"James?" Thor calls. "Would you come here, please? We are hiding in your coat closet."
She hears Bucky shift warily like he thinks she will attack him as soon as he approaches. Shame overcomes her, flooding her cheeks with the ghost heat of a blush.
"Buck, I'm sorry. I'm absolutely ridiculous, I know. You gave me a chance to say no, but I said yes. I thought once the day came, I'd be fine, but it's just so much. I'm overwhelmed," she says.
The door to the closet creaks open then, flooding the room with artificial light. She squints at the figure of her fiancé standing there in his tuxedo, and she is struck dumb at the thought of having him all to herself forever.
"You look so beautiful," she says to Bucky, who blushes but looks pleased.
"I will leave you to talk," says Thor, gracefully exiting the closet.
Bucky plops down next to her, holding out his arms for her to scramble into. When she is safely tucked away into his warmth, she begins to speak.
"I'm stuck on the unfairness of this whole situation," she says.
Bucky presses his lips to the top of her head, his voice muffled by her hair.
"Whaddya mean?"
"I remember being seven years old and talking to Hanna about her future," she says, knowing Bucky would know what she means. "She would study music and become a famous composer, even if she had to use a male name. She had all of these grand plans about being remembered after death and about being married to the nicest boy that her family could find. Even if it was an arranged marriage, she told me that she would love her husband. When she asked me what I wanted my future to look like, I said I didn't think I'd have one. My father would have starved me out long before then."
She can feel when Bucky stiffens behind her. Before he can try and reassure her about something that she knows deep in her bones to be the truth, she continues speaking.
"Then when he kicked me out, I didn't even want a future. Hanna married a decently wealthy man and moved to Warsaw to play music. She had an uncanny ability to find me wherever I went. I was kept up to date on her life. I'm almost positive they married because he got her pregnant. Still, she was living a life she dreamed of when she was young. But her husband was so mean to her, Buck, I could never believe it. She never outright talked about it, but the little things she said in her letters made me suspicious. She wrote a few pieces of music, but it never went anywhere. She died unhappily, and now here we are, four hundred years later. Me, who didn't want to get married or live another minute with my father, immortal and about to be married to the best guy I've ever known. And Hanna, who wanted nothing more than to be remembered and loved. It's unfair. Why do I get these things when she didn't?"
Squeezing her tightly, Bucky hums.
"I wish I had an answer for you, darlin.' I wish I knew what to say. But if Hanna was here right now, don't you think she'd be happy for ya? She was your best friend, right? I know it's hard not to feel guilty, but you shouldn't. You did nothin' wrong. You weren't the one who mistreated her. You were tryin' to survive yourself, all alone when you were that young."
"Yeah."
"I love you, honey, so much. Y'know that, don't you?"
"I love you too. This is a hell of a time to get all existential, isn't it?"
"Shit, I'd be surprised if you didn't." Bucky nuzzles her neck. "Have you been back to Grójec since you left? Would Hanna's grave be there?"
"No, I haven't been there since my father kicked me out. And, yes, her grave is there. At least, the last time I looked it up, it was."
"Would you go back to see it? Maybe it'd help."
"I don't think I could."
"Maybe after a few more therapy sessions."
She smiles. "Yeah, probably."
"So, this weddin,' then. I have a few ideas," says Bucky.
"Okay."
"We walk down the aisle together. That way, everyone can stare at me and my great tux."
"You do look amazing," she says.
"I know," Bucky says, preening.
"Can we also only stay at the reception for three hours?"
"Well, seein' as how you'll finally be my wife an' I won't be able to stand bein' around you clothed and not naked on top of me for that long, let's make it an hour and a half-- two hours at the maximum."
"Fair enough."
"Also, I made sure that we had a playlist of all your favorite songs. I know how picky you get with 'modern' music," Bucky teases.
"If we do a couples' dance, can we do it without a spotlight?"
"How about this? No couples' dance here, but when we get to Great Bear."
"Are you sure, Buck?"
"Hey, it's both our weddings, not just mine. All my friends are here; we're havin' my favorite food-"
"-Only because I don't eat."
"That isn't the point. I'm marryin' the love of my life; that's all I need. 'Sides, this party ain't for either of us. It's for my damn pack. Natasha likes throwing parties for everything. But don't tell her I said that. I'll deny it if you do."
"I won't, so as long as you don't tell anyone, I was practically forced into buying this dress. The bridal shop owner was a vampire who lived through the Victorian era and loved it."
"I didn't wanna say anything, but yeah, I didn't think you picked this out. Or the shoes."
"They were Sharon's idea. I never knew heels could be this glittery. I feel like a disco ball."
"You look like one. It's like you're a disco ball with a pile of whipped cream on top. I've never seen so much fabric."
"I'm wearing a hoop skirt underneath, can you believe that? That's why I'm sitting so weird."
"Vintage."
"If I wanted to dress semi-age-appropriate, I would, but I don't, so why did I agree to a hoop skirt?"
"At least it ain't the kind that makes your hips look square and jut out twelve feet on both sides."
"That is, unfortunately, incorrect. They may not be twelve feet wide, but my butt is twelve feet behind me."
"What?"
"The shop owner had a vision, and I felt like I couldn't say no. I'm sure she would have cut off my head right in that bridal shop if I did. I may or may not have been terrified of her."
"Can I see the dress?"
Regretting every decision she has ever made in her life up until now, she clambers to her feet, and the hoop skirt springs into place. Bucky stares.
"You could be a king's wife with a skirt like that," he says, cracking her favorite grin. "The beheaded kind, probably."
She laughs. "Apparently, it's called a crinoline, and I hate it. I was a farmer's daughter; I never wore hoop skirts in my life. Why did I agree to it now?"
"We'll find somethin.' Even if we hafta tear this dress apart."
As though the universe is listening to them, someone knocks on the closet. The door opens, and there is Thor again, standing there with a garment bag and a woman that is, assumably, his girlfriend Jane. She is small next to Thor, but she holds herself like she is taller than him.
"I was made aware that there was another dress for you," Thor says. "It was Misses Romanoff and Maximoff's idea in case the current dress was not your taste. My Jane has an extra pair of shoes that she is willing to share."
"Thank you," she says, standing and introducing herself to Jane. She feels like she should curtsy with the petticoat she wears, so she bends to do it but snaps back up when she realizes how ridiculous that would be.
Jane shakes her hand, smiling like she knew what was about to happen.
"When Thor told me that the wedding would be outside, I couldn't imagine having to wear heels in the dirt. You can borrow these," Jane says, thrusting a pair of less glittery shoes into her arms.
"Thank you," she repeats. "They're lovely."
Thor hands her the dress, too. She cannot see it through the garment bag, but it feels lighter than the monstrosity she currently wears, so she feels better.
"What have you decided?" Thor asks.
"We're walkin' down the aisle together," Bucky answers for her, and she lets him with a soft smile. "No spotlight dance, either."
"What excellent ideas! And I will make sure that the ceremony itself goes as fast as possible," Thor says.
"That sounds great, Thor. Thank you. I should put this on and do my hair."
"D'you want me to stay?"
"It's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding," Jane says.
Bucky looks at her, and she can see that he is unsure if she will be okay if he leaves. She nods, agreeing with Jane.
"Jane's right. Some things need to be a surprise," she says.
Bucky smiles, kissing her head. "I'll see you at the aisle."
"See you in a bit," she says, waving and thanking Jane as the three leave her to get ready for her wedding.
She hangs the garment bag up on the rod in the closet and unzips it.
"Oh," she says.
It is like something out of a storybook and not the kind where women still wore petticoats. No, it's a simple lace pattern that falls into soft blankets of tulle that feel light as a feather. The dress is backless, which would never have occurred to her as something she would wear, but she can't imagine anything else once she sees it. The dress paired with the peep-toe shoes Jane had given to her suits her perfectly. She smiles, petting the lace of the dress. It is time to get ready. She texts Natasha her thanks. She receives a reply almost immediately, asking if she needs help. She says something about her hair, to which Natasha says she'll be over in five minutes to help.
Taking off the hoop skirt and heavy dress is a relief. She thinks if she could still sweat, it would be pouring down her back. She glares at the pile of fabric and wires (or whatever a crinoline is made of nowadays) and thinks about burning it. No, she shouldn't, even though she got it for a reasonable price. She's sure that another vampire or another creature out there likes the Victorian era enough to buy this dress secondhand. But she doesn't have time to think about the logistics of it all as she puts on the new dress. The tulle is soft, and she twists her body, letting it brush against her legs. She cannot zip it herself, so instead, she slips the garter up her leg. No one knew she had gotten it, not even the woman who forced her to buy the crinoline-petticoat abomination. She had ordered it online and delivered it to a PO box in case Bucky saw the return address and asked her about it. She wanted it to be a secret, but she wasn't a good liar, and Bucky was always as eager as a puppy to figure out gifts and secrets. She would have folded like a house of cards. Hence, the need for a temporary PO box.
"Hello?" Natasha calls.
"I'm in my front closet!" she calls back. "Hold on!"
She grabs the shoes and goes out to meet Natasha. Wanda is there too, holding a makeup bag.
"You look beautiful!" Wanda says.
She swishes her dress around her legs.
"Thanks to you both."
"When I saw the dress you brought home, I knew I had to do something," Wanda says. "You're too nice to say no to anything or anyone, so Nat and I took it upon ourselves to find something more 'you.'"
"What do you think about your hair?" Natasha asks.
"Oh, I'm not sure. Maybe curling it more?" she says.
Natasha examines her. "An updo would look better. With these front pieces framing your face."
"Oh, and with flowers!" Wanda adds.
"I-I haven't worn my hair up in centuries," she admits, looking at the floor.
"What if-" Natasha moves behind her, gathering part of her hair in her hands, "-We do half up, half down. That way, Bucky will be able to see your face."
"Yeah, with the flowers? I liked that idea," she says.
"Where is your mirror? The bathroom?"
"I'll show you."
As she leads Natasha and Wanda up the stairs, Wanda asks her about makeup, to which she goes quiet, mulling it over. The word 'simple' is always her default, but she finds that she doesn't want that.
"A cat eye, smokey-type shadow with a glittery something in the corners. And dark lipstick," she decides.
Wanda looks ecstatic. "Falsies too?"
"Definitely," she says, sitting down in front of her unique mirror that allows everyone to see her reflection.
Wanda turns on some music, she shifts to face her mirror, and Natasha begins working on her hair.