Pairing: T’Challa x Reader
Warnings: It’s sometimes sad, but overall cute. Mentions of torture.
Summary: After the events in the Leipzig airport, queen (Y/N) is taken to the Raft and tortued to say something about the whereabouts of Captain Rogers; she endures everything and even got rescued by a fellow monarch whom she knew from a life that she thought she would never get back to. Diplomacy is key.
A/N: Feedback is love.
“What you did to them was not as cruel as what they did to you.”
It was the first thing (Y/N) typed down. She was home at last, and more or less safe and she firmly needed to believe her own words.
The medical team that took care of her told her that if she wasn’t keen on talking, she could probably write things down, let her memory and fingers do the job, but that was easier said than done; especially when her memory only played the same images again and again. She took a deep breath, feeling her chest inflate with the income and slowly exhaled everything away. The thoughts wandered in and out, and following her meditation teacher’s instructions, she tried not to make a whole story around them.
“It all begun in Vienna. I shouldn’t have gone. I shouldn’t have been there. I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t. But I did. I went there and I can’t change that. I was there only to hear what fat men wanted from people with powers; people like me. But I am not their property and I don’t want them to register me or mark me as something I am not. I am a queen, I am a ruler and I am powerful. I am graceful in what I do and god knows I am. I just wanted people to feel better, but their emotions turned confusing and I just couldn’t do that anymore.”
By the end of her first stream of consciousness session, (Y/N) was already shaking and crying. She grabbed her head in her hands tightly, trying to shake away all the images that followed those inauspicious events. Leipzig, and then the Raft. She remembered hiding in the shadows, unbeknownst to everyone, as she toyed and manipulated their anger and their feelings of blind justice.
Captain Rogers had hidden friends outside the avengers, and she was a most appreciated one, so it was not a surprise when he told her to please help him out with a little something. He mentioned the dangers and the exposure, but he also explained how important it was for him to have his friend back and the accords not signed. (Y/N) understood that very well. The meaning of family and the promise of a free life.
Once she was there, hiding behind the structures, containers and trucks, she felt a familiar presence. But she could not recognize anybody; not their breathing and not her thoughts. She moved around like the shadows and with them, trying to remain unseen from everyone. But then the fight was over and the million tricks under her sleeve were gone and people were dragging her to a plane to throw her into a prison in the middle of the ocean. The Raft, they called it.
There she met her fellow inmates, the archer, the man that could shrink, the man with the wings and the woman with the mental abilities. She could not escape and she could not use her powers to feel less lonely. Little by little, she locked herself into her own mind, unwilling to maintain a conversation with anybody, and each passing day she seemed more and more unbreakable, even though she was tortured in several ways to get the information about Captain Rogers and his whereabouts. She knew and believed in the value of loyalty, even if it meant rotting in her cell.
She was about to give up on everything and everyone, but then she saw the light, or more like the light going off. Steve Rogers appeared, almost horrified by what happened to his dearest friends and allies. Cap’s team was taken to Wakanda, a nation she didn’t know she knew.
They were all welcomed by the king himself, a tall man of dark complexion; he irradiated authority and kindness, even though he saw before him the people that he once tried so hard to get rid of. (Y/N) felt even smaller next to him; being a queen herself, she knew in her heart that she wasn’t as good as he was. People around him smiled as they vowed their heads, but when her people passed by, they bowed their heads in fear.
King T’Challa was a very caring man, not only for his people, but for people he didn’t know too. He was in charge of all the attentions the newly arrived would have; from their bedrooms to the different recovery therapies they would be under. Each one of them different for each member.
The physical therapy was one thing, getting regular check-ups with the castle’s medical team, but then there were the therapy sessions that (Y/N) dreaded to attend. T’Challa was informed of this and of course he worried, he wanted everyone to be as mentally healthy as possible, even though he understood if it took a long time.
The king decided to ask (Y/N) why wasn’t she attending the sessions and if there was another thing she’d like to try so he could make the arrangements for it to be done, but before he could put the question into words, she had already disappeared.
The queen came back to her own palace, in the safety of her walls and the safety of her people. She still thought about T’Challa and the brief encounters they did happen to have. She couldn’t escape all day from him, and even though she never tried to, she still had little to no words to say to him other than answering his questions. Among those questions, there was the moment when he found out she was a queen also, a very young one; younger than him. Later he found out that his deceased father was once an ally with hers, and a light-bulb lighted up inside his mind.
“You got a letter, your highness.” One of the maidens said, carrying with her a golden envelope with the queen’s name on it. The queen didn’t pay much attention until the maid said where it came from. “This comes from Wakanda.” (Y/N) turned her head to look at the envelope and reached out her hand for it to be handed to her.
“Thank you.” The queen bowed her head and smiled lightly, and the maid turned on her heels and left (Y/N) alone again with the pile of papers she still had to revise.
Ever since (Y/N) came back to her lands, everything was busier than ever. The world was now aware of her secret society and trying to get the press away from the limits was a terribly exhausting job. She was not very good at the social contact and she preferred not to do it anyway; she had people to take care of public relationships, but there was one thing she couldn’t escape from. Diplomacy.
She opened the letter to find a handwritten message.
I hope this letter finds you well. It’s been a few months since you left Wakanda without even saying goodbye and I believe we have a few matters to discuss. Political ones mostly, but I suppose we can find the time to discuss other things.
As you might be aware of, our fathers shared a close friendship, and both kingdoms were war allies before and we also did a lot of commerce; that is relationship that I wish to re-build now that we have become public personas and that we have properly met (the circumstances were terrible, but at least everyone got something positive out of it). Would it be okay if I ask you out for dinner soon? Whatever your answer may be, reply this letter as soon as possible and I’ll make the arrangements to meet your convenience.
Looking forward to hear from you.
(Y/N) held the letter for a few more minutes before she could realize that she was thinking about the ruler of the peaceful kingdom that received her just months ago. She was still surprised that he did it, and on top of that, he was asking to meet her again. Yes, they had some important topics to discuss, but for the words and their underlying meaning, he was quite eager to see her.
She took a deep breath and wrote the reply herself. She didn’t want to waste any other precious second. She called the same maiden and asked to send the letter away and that it was extremely important that she made sure it would arrive as soon as it could be.
The venue for their dinner would be the gorgeous city of Marrakesh; they agreed that a neutral place was the best option for their not-official diplomatic meeting. (Y/N) appeared in a restaurant wearing a tight black dress. It had no back, and the cleavage was low, but not low enough to show her breasts or to look tacky. T’Challa was blown away by her beauty; he remembered quite well the girl in his palace, but the girl back then used to hide herself under baggy clothes, or hide herself in her bedroom if possible.
“It’s nice to see you out,” T’Challa commented as he conducted her to their table, “how are you feeling?”
“It’s hard to get back on track,” she nodded, feeling the weight of her words, “but I got some good people to take care of me.”
The drinks started to pour on their glasses and the food arrived to them. Spicy food was one thing, but the dishes there were more condiments than actual ingredients. It was a fun meal, and even though they could not speak very much, the looks they shared said more than a hundred words.
(Y/N) felt how he observed her every move, from the way she ate, to the way her lips captured the glass and the liquid went down her throat. She started to like the way that his feelings were so out there, she was not even having an insight of his mind, but instead; he was giving it all away as if he wanted her to witness everything that he was going through.
“It’s kinda funny to think our parents were once allies,” (Y/N) started, “I still have your father in my memory. He’s one of the memories I cherish the most.” She smiled almost to herself. “I remember that he gave me, for one of my birthdays, a small sculpture of a panther.” She giggled heartedly. “I never thought I’d learn the hard way that apparently the panther is the national animal in Wakanda.”
“I actually made that,” T’Challa admitted, scratching the back of his neck and feeling a strong warmth spreading through his face, “and I wanted to give it to you so badly, because you were the only other child I knew that knew exactly what I was going through, but I got sick the few days before that and… I was bound to be in bed for about a week so… I was destroyed by that.” He chuckled. Just a few seconds after, they fell silent. They searched in each other’s eyes for conversation, and that was enough, but T’Challa broke the silence between them. “You know, I spent my teenage years imagining how you had grown up, and if there could be a chance of us keeping a future together—for the sake of our kingdoms, of course.” He hurried to add.
“That’s a heavy wonder to carry for a teenage boy.” (Y/N) conceded, swirling the liquid in the glass with her powers. She was absent minded, thinking about the little boy she once met; it was hard to believe that the boy had grown up into such a majestic man, not to mention how handsome he was. She shook her head, as if it made the thoughts go away, but she still had in mind the words he said, and how he thought about the future. “You know, my father was not a very sentimental man, and he was most probably worried about the future of the people rather than my future, but he always said that it would’ve been a good idea to keep relations with Wakanda.” She pursed her lips into a smile. “He said, it was one of dreams to see me married to the heir. And now that I know him… I believe my father knew what he talked about.”
“And what is that?”
“He must have had some idea about the kind of man you have turned into.” She exhaled heavily and let her back rest comfortably on the chair. “I’m not the kind of girl that’s good with words, let alone those words being about my inner thoughts and the mind beyond my mind, so I’ll say this quickly: I like you, and I like the man you’ve become. I like you because you took care of me like no one else would have, even though I was the one who made you feel so enraged. I’ve done a lot of bad things in my life, and playing with your feelings was one. If you want me to answer your teenage question: yes, there is a chance of keeping our kingdoms together, but I don’t want to be with you because of that, I want to be with you because the feeling is corresponded. If not—”
“I thought those words would never come.” T’Challa chuckled. “I’ve been thinking about those words since I can remember, and… they feel a hundred times better.” He rested his elbows on the table and reached out for (Y/N)’s hands, but she couldn’t move. “I’ve been in love with you, and the thought of you for long, and you can’t imagine how broken my heart was when I saw you under arrest… and what they did to you at the Raft…” He clenched his fists and his knuckles whitened from the strength used. “I couldn’t stand it. I mean, the thought of what you went through still keeps me up at night.” He stopped for a few seconds, just to get his thoughts straight. “I don’t care about what you did; that’s buried in the past and I have no interest in bringing it back. I like who you are now, and I want to learn from you… Let’s give this a try, and if this does not meet your expectations, or if something happens along the way, just promise me you’ll be as sincere as you have been throughout the night.”
“I—I will.” (Y/N) stammered nervously, as she timidly intertwined her hands with T’Challa’s. She smiled at the contact between them; it was so childish, so innocent, but she knew she was making the right decision. “I’m just so… I thought that, once you found out that it was me who toyed with everyone’s mind and that I was involved with Captain Rogers, you’d shut me out and probably you wouldn’t even talk to me about diplomacy… I thought you’d… exile me out of your life.” She said, with a taint of gloominess in her voice. Her fingers gently traced the veins on the back of T’Challa’s hand. She took a deep breath, experiencing in first person the feelings that occupied the mind and heart of the king. “Have you always been this intense?” She giggled when she saw herself affected by the king’s lust.
“Only when the woman I’ve loved all my life is wearing something like that.” T’Challa smiled slyly, not even feeling intimidated by being busted. He let go of (Y/N)’s hands and stood up to take a few steps next to her. “May I take the fun somewhere else?” He offered his hand.
“Yes,” she nodded, taking the hand and standing up, “you may…” Before T’Challa started to walk away with her, she tugged at his arm and made him turn around to pull him closer to her and kiss those plump lips that had hypnotized her all night long. His kiss was soft, and his hands on her hips were even softer. She held on tightly to him, feeling every inch of his body mold to hers and his muscles tightening. She pulled away, needing some air to think straight. “Perhaps we could take the fun to my room… My king.” She breathed to his ear, knowing the reaction it would have in him.