Pairing: Sam Wilson (Falcon) x Bucky Barnes (Winter Soldier) x Y/N (Dragon Princess)
Warnings: Violence, strong language, captivity, manipulation, dark themes, tension, intense emotions, implied threats of death, power dynamics, angst, betrayal, danger.

Word Count: ~8,000 words.

You walked down the dark hallways of your boutique nightclub, the neon lights casting shadows on the exposed brick walls. Two men stood out from the usual crowd of tech entrepreneurs and finance bros - they wore impeccably tailored Italian suits, but there was something different about them. You could feel an almost electric energy radiating from them, a sense of purpose and destiny that marked them as heroes in disguise.

A knowing smirk crossed your lips as you slipped a folded note to your trusted bartender, Max. "Remember what we discussed - no tampering with their drinks," you whispered. He gave a subtle nod of understanding before heading off to prepare something special for your intriguing new guests.

Your crimson Versace dress hugged every curve, the fabric catching the light as you moved. Dragon-gold earrings - family heirlooms that seemed to glow with their own inner fire - dangled elegantly from your ears. You perched gracefully on a leather barstool near the two men, crossing your legs as you raised your crystal glass of cabernet.

"Why don't you two join me?" you purred, your voice carrying a playful edge that caught their attention immediately. The taller of the two men, with warm brown skin and close-cropped hair, turned to face you fully. His expression remained professional, but you caught the flicker of interest in his eyes.

"We're not here for drinks and entertainment," he said firmly, though his companion shifted slightly, clearly intrigued.

You took a deliberate sip of wine, letting the moment stretch. "All the same," you replied, gesturing to the empty seats beside you. "Sit. You'll draw less attention that way."

The two men exchanged a loaded glance before the one with the gleaming vibranium arm settled onto the barstool, his companion following suit. The low lights caught the subtle mechanical movements of the prosthetic - a marvel of Wakandan engineering that no replica could match.

"Do you know who we are?" the dark-skinned man asked, his voice low and cautious. Military training showed in his posture, even in civilian clothes.

You leaned forward, allowing yourself a knowing smile as the scent of your Chanel perfume drifted between you. "Darling, I know everyone who walks into my establishment the moment they cross the threshold." You settled back, swirling your wine with practiced elegance. "Now, what brings Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes to my humble club? Heroes like yourselves don't usually venture to this side of town without good reason."

Your eyes flickered between the Winter Soldier and the new Captain America, noting how they both tensed slightly at the use of their names. "So tell me," you continued, "what can I do for you gentlemen this evening?"

Bucky's steel-blue eyes fixed on you as he spoke, his vibranium fingers tapping once against the polished bar. "We're looking for Y/N L/N. Intelligence says she's a runaway princess."

You kept your composure, though your grip tightened fractionally on the crystal stem of your wine glass. Behind the bar, Max subtly touched his earpiece - a silent signal that security was on standby. The weight of your dragon-gold earrings suddenly felt heavier, a reminder of the heritage you'd left behind.

"Really?" you drawled, maintaining your practiced smile as you took another deliberate sip of wine. "How fascinating. Can't say I've heard anything about missing royalty in my little corner of the world." You held Sam's searching gaze with practiced ease. "Though I do wonder... what would two Avengers want with a runaway princess?"

The lie rolled off your tongue smoothly - you'd had years of practice, after all. Three years since you'd traded a crown for this nightclub, and now the past was catching up in the form of two very dangerous men.

Sam leaned in, his presence commanding as his hand moved closer to your knee. His cologne - something expensive and subtle - mingled with the ambient scents of the club. "It's time she comes home," he said, his voice a mix of authority and genuine concern. "Her father wants her back."

A razor-sharp smile curved your lips as you dropped the pretense. "I assure you," you replied, voice cooling to aristocratic precision, "King Daemon and Queen Rhaenyra have no genuine interest in retrieving their precious little dragon." The words dripped with old bitterness, though your posture remained regal.

The tension was broken as one of your regular clients approached - a young man in designer leather pants and a mesh top that left little to imagination. You turned to kiss his cheek affectionately, the gesture deliberately casual. "Have fun tonight, angel," you purred, accepting his payment with practiced discretion. "I'll see you another evening."

As he sashayed away, you turned back to the heroes, your expression hardening slightly. The princess they sought and the nightclub owner before them were one and the same - though you'd worked hard to ensure the connection wasn't obvious to most.

You turned your (e/c) eyes toward Bucky, meeting his gaze with centuries of royal breeding in your stare. The low lights caught the dangerous glint in his eyes, but you'd faced worse than the Winter Soldier in your time. The weight of a kingdom's expectations had been far heavier than any threat he could pose.

"What if we skip the whole 'taking you home' routine?" Bucky suggested, his vibranium arm shifting slightly on the bar top - a subtle reminder of his capabilities.

Your laugh was smooth as aged whiskey as you settled more comfortably on your barstool, your red dress catching the light. "And how exactly," you asked, voice dripping with aristocratic amusement, "do you plan to take me anywhere?" You gestured languidly around your domain - at the security cameras, the well-trained staff, the subtle protective sigils worked into the club's architecture. "This is my home. The one I chose. The one I built."

The unspoken message was clear: you weren't the helpless princess they'd been sent to retrieve. You were something far more dangerous - a royal who had chosen her own path.

Your fingers wrapped around Sam's wrist with inhuman strength, and heat radiated from your grip - not enough to burn, but a clear warning. Sam winced, his eyes widening as he felt the ancient power thrumming beneath your skin. The dragon-gold earrings seemed to pulse with an inner fire, matching the dangerous gleam in your (e/c) eyes.

"You're playing with fire here, little heroes," you purred, your voice carrying echoes of something ancient and powerful. The temperature around you rose subtly, and the ice in nearby drinks began to melt. "And unlike the stories they've told you about the lost princess..." You released Sam's wrist, leaving the skin faintly red, "...I am my father's daughter in more ways than one."

The message was clear - you weren't just royal by birth. You were a dragon in human form, and they had wandered straight into your lair.

"We don't want to hurt you," Sam said, rubbing his wrist as he stood. Before either hero could react, Max pressed a subtle button behind the bar. Sleek, chrome-plated robotic guards emerged from hidden panels in the walls, their movements fluid and lethal as they seized both men. Their struggles were futile against the advanced technology.

You laughed, the sound echoing through the suddenly empty club - your legitimate patrons had vanished, revealing them as the carefully crafted illusions they'd always been. Rising from your barstool with predatory grace, you leaned toward your captives.

"Oh, little Mr. Wilson," you purred, watching them struggle against your security measures. "You don't threaten a dragon's daughter. Didn't SHIELD's files warn you about that?" Your gaze shifted to Bucky, lips curving into a dangerous smile. "And surely HYDRA must have had some notes about my kind, Barnes?"

You circled them slowly, your red dress shimmering like scales in the low light. "Playing with fire..." A small flame danced across your fingertips. "That's just asking to get burned. And dragon's fire?" The flame turned brilliant blue-white. "It burns hotter than the sun itself."

With a dismissive wave, you addressed your guards. "Take them to the dungeons below. I'll deal with our heroic friends later." You watched as they were dragged away, adding softly, "Welcome to my real kingdom, gentlemen."

◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥

You were crouched down, pressing crisp hundred-dollar bills into a young girl's trembling hands - another runaway you'd taken under your protection, just as others had once helped you. Your red dress pooled around your heels as the child whispered her thanks and scurried away into the night.

The click of expensive shoes on concrete announced Max's arrival before his panicked voice did. "Lady L/N!" He was breathing hard, his usually immaculate black vest askew, earpiece dangling. Your trusted bartender and head of security hadn't looked this disheveled since the assassination attempt last spring.

"Yes, dear?" you asked, straightening smoothly, though you already sensed what was coming. The magical wards beneath the club were buzzing with warning.

"It's Sam and Bucky," he panted, tablet in hand showing security footage of empty restraints and unconscious guards. "They've escaped."

A slow, dangerous smile curved your lips as you adjusted your dragon-gold earrings. "Well," you purred, eyes beginning to glow with inner fire, "I suppose we'll have to do this the old-fashioned way." Your skin started to shimmer with heat. "Ready the containment protocols, Max. Let's remind these heroes why dragons ruled the skies for millennia."

◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥

Outside the club, Sam and Bucky were sprinting through rain-slicked streets, their designer suits now disheveled and singed at the edges. Steam rose from their bodies where the dragon princess's flames had nearly caught them.

"Just exactly where are we running to?" Sam wheezed out between breaths, vaulting over a knocked-over trash can.

"I don't know," Bucky called back, his vibranium arm glinting under the streetlights. "Just away from that crazy lady!" A security drone whizzed past overhead, scanning for them.

They ducked under a stone archway, taking cover in the shadows. Sam shot Bucky a knowing grin despite their predicament. "I saw how you were looking at her, though. Thought you liked her."

Before Bucky could respond - likely with one of his signature glares - the purr of a high-performance engine cut through the night. A matte black Dodge Challenger pulled up beside them, and behind the wheel sat John Walker, the controversial new "Captain America" that neither of them particularly trusted.

"Hey gents," Walker called through the open window, that familiar smug smile playing on his lips. "Want a ride?"

The two men shared a wary look - accepting help from Walker was risky, but with a dragon princess on their tail, they were running out of options.

"We don't have much choice," Sam muttered, yanking open the sleek car's door. Bucky groaned but slid into the leather backseat after him, his vibranium arm scraping against the doorframe. The vehicle peeled away from the curb, Lemar "Battlestar" Hoskins turning from the passenger seat to eye them with professional interest.

John kept his gaze on them in the rearview mirror, that characteristic cocky smile playing on his lips. "So," he drawled, taking a sharp turn that had them all shifting in their seats, "what's got two Avengers running through the rain in thousand-dollar suits?"

Lemar's eyes narrowed at the scorch marks on their clothes and the faint smell of smoke clinging to them. Walker's question hung in the air as they sped through the neon-lit streets, putting distance between them and your club.

The two fugitives shared a look - how exactly do you explain to the new "Captain America" that you just escaped from a dragon princess running a high-end nightclub?

"Just a little run-in with an enemy," Bucky replied icily, his vibranium fingers drumming an agitated pattern against his thigh. The scent of smoke and expensive scotch still clung to his singed suit.

John caught Lemar's eye in the rearview mirror, a knowing smirk playing across his face. "Oh really?" he drawled, taking a turn faster than necessary. "An enemy the great Winter Soldier and Falcon couldn't handle? Now that's interesting." The implied mockery in his tone was clear as crystal.

Sam slumped back against the leather seat, exhaustion and irritation written across his features. "Look, Walker," he said, authority creeping into his voice despite their compromised position, "we don't want to talk about it. Just get us back to the Avengers compound, alright?"

The tension in the car was thick enough to cut with a knife - two former Avengers who'd just fled from a dragon princess, stuck in a car with their would-be replacement and his partner. The city lights strobed across their faces as Walker navigated through the streets, his curiosity clearly far from satisfied.

In the dimly lit interior of the car, drenched from the rain, John adjusted his grip on the wheel. "Alright," he muttered, nodding at the idea. With a quick glance, he turned off the street and guided them toward the open lands.

Sam turned to Bucky in the passenger seat, his voice low. "Did you recognize her?"

Bucky gave a slow nod, his gaze unreadable. "Yeah. I think she might've been... one of my victims." His tone was disturbingly calm.

Sam winced. "She didn't recognize you, though—not like that. From what I could tell, she only heard about us secondhand."

Rain pounded down, leaving the streets drenched and glistening under the pale glow of streetlights. Bucky leaned against the sleek, black SUV, raindrops tracing rivulets down his leather jacket, lost in thought as he watched the darkened road ahead. Beside him, Sam adjusted his gloves, his gaze scanning the surroundings, every detail sharp in the wet, reflective night.

They didn't have to wait long. Soon, Walker and his team pulled up beside them, headlights piercing through the rain. As they stepped out, John called to them over the downpour, "Just call us if you ever run into this enemy again." But Bucky and Sam didn't respond, already turning toward the imposing silhouette of the Avengers compound.

Inside, the quiet was almost palpable, the space sterile and gleaming, but somehow hollow. Bucky and Sam shared a glance as they stepped through the heavy doors, the lights flickering on overhead with a mechanical hum.

"FRIDAY?" Sam called out, but only silence answered. Since the Blip, the AI had been absent, and Tony's presence seemed like a distant echo haunting the halls. The two men sighed, each feeling the weight of the empty compound.

As they walked deeper into the compound, focused on their mission, cold hands suddenly seized their wrists, startling them. A chilling voice, half-mocking, half-sinister, whispered from the shadows, "You really think you can run from a dragon, little heroes?"

Both men froze, tension rippling through them.

"Look," Sam choked out, feeling the stranger's icy grip tighten as cold fingers brushed against his throat. "We don't want any trouble. Your father hired us."

You stepped out of the shadows, your face twisting into a sneer. "My father? He's a fool. And my mother? A power-hungry queen with no loyalty," you spat. "I'd never go back there—back to a place where I'm expected to marry my own brother or cousin. The Targaryens were doomed long before I came into this world."

Your voice dripped with contempt, each word a dagger aimed at the legacy you were born into. Sam and Bucky exchanged uneasy glances, feeling the weight of your fury as it filled the room.

"F-from what we saw, your father was a decent man," Bucky stammered, struggling against your iron grip. "Sure, he had lovers, but that's... that's all."

Your hand tightened around him, your gaze cold and unyielding. "Don't presume to lecture me on right and wrong, Winter Soldier," you sneered, your voice a low, dangerous whisper. "You, of all people, should know better."

Sam shifted uneasily beside him, sensing the tension thickening in the air, the weight of old wounds and buried secrets pressing down on them all.

You finally released your hold, and both Bucky and Sam slumped to the ground, gasping for air, clutching their throats as they coughed. Watching them struggle, you smiled, a dangerous glint in your eyes.

"I let you live under my roof because killing heroes would only draw more attention than I wanted," you said, voice dripping with disdain. "Perhaps my father and mother would send their silver-backed dragons after me if they knew, but here..." Your smirk deepened as you reached down, wrapping golden chains around their wrists and throats, binding them tightly.

"Here, where no one can stop me."

The chains gleamed in the dim light, each link heavy with ancient power. Sam and Bucky exchanged a wary glance, the realization of their predicament sinking in as the chains tightened, sealing their fate.

"W-why would you kill us?" Sam stammered, his voice trembling as he looked up at you, a flicker of fear and disbelief in his eyes. Tears threatened to spill as he stared down the grim inevitability of death in your gaze.

You smirked, leaning in closer, voice a low, venomous whisper. "Because, Sam, I guard my secrets closely. And you were about to expose me to an entire kingdom of traitors, fools, and vipers."

Your smirk turned colder, more ruthless, as you tightened the golden chains around them, silencing any further protests.

Sam swallowed hard, his voice barely a whisper. "We just... we just wanted a bit of money, that's all," he choked out, his gaze dropping in defeat. "The Avengers are gone. We're all that's left."

Your expression remained unmoved, cold as steel. "And you thought that would make me merciful?" you sneered, tightening the chains further as their breaths grew labored. "A little money, and you'd sell me out to the kingdom?" You laughed softly, a chilling sound in the empty room.

"Pathetic," you murmured, stepping back, watching them struggle under the weight of their fate. The silence pressed down, broken only by their ragged breaths as they came to terms with what was to come.

You released your grip on the chains, only to bind them tightly to the nearby wall. With a smirk, you secured them in place, their bodies held fast against the cold, unyielding metal.

"Here, you can rot in the luxurious prison Tony Stark built for you," you said, your voice dripping with dark amusement. "Enjoy yourselves, gentlemen."

With that, you turned and strode away, leaving only the faint glimmer of golden magic lingering in the air and the haunting trace of your intoxicating scent. The silence closed in, broken only by their strained breathing as they realized the depth of their imprisonment—and that they were truly alone.