By some miracle, or perhaps truly by the promise of T'Challa's mother, you were feeling back to your usual self by the next morning; in fact, you hadn't felt this well and energized in as far back as you could remember. You could only just vaguely remember falling asleep as you sat in the hallway with Steve, now starting to wonder exactly what was in the soup that Ramonda had made for you. You had woken up in your bed, but you couldn't remember the first thing about how you had gotten there. When the sunlight of the new day began to peek through the heavy curtains over the window, you gave in to the realization that you would have to start the day as well, pushing yourself up to sit with a small worry about your stomach acting up again; you smiled to yourself in surprise and relief when you didn't feel anything amiss.

After a long and relaxing shower, you dressed and readied yourself to leave the room, and to tackle another day in T'Challa's home. It was frustrating to have been together with him for so long now and with no sign of his people beginning to accept it. You were an outsider, and you always would be. It wasn't everyone who felt this way, with many finding resolution with it, but it was enough of them to make their sentiment unable to go unnoticed; you tried your best to cover your worry and apprehensions when T'Challa was with you, but you knew that your acting wasn't enough to fool him for long.

A loud buzz from your phone startled you from your thoughts, leaving you to pause before you could make your way out, trying to answer the question Steve had just sent.

I'm leaving on the mission in fifteen minutes and I'd like you to join. You in?

I thought you didn't need me. You said you were just dropping me off on the way by.

Changed my mind.

You sighed heavily, knowing that Steve wouldn't ask you to take time away from your visit with T'Challa unless he really needed your help. But you really wanted to get every minute here that you could, at least that was true until you felt the stare of one of his servants as they dropped off your breakfast tray without so much as the courtesy of greeting you on the way in and out of your room.

I'll have to ask T'Challa.

He's coming along, if that helps.

"Why didn't you just say that in the first place?" you muttered under your breath as you typed in your answer, agreeing to go as soon as you saw his name on the screen. Hurrying to pack a bag of gear, you grabbed your boots and ran to the door, only to feel the raging churn of an empty stomach stop you in your tracks. Filling your other hand with a piece of fruit and a pastry that you couldn't say no to, you made your way to the hangar and the one place in Wakanda that you felt comfortable; on the quinjet and seated at T'Challa's side.

"Hello, my love, are you feeling better today?" he purred with a nuzzle of his nose into your neck and a gentle kiss, leaving you unable to give him the reprieve of skipping the joke.

"Hello, kitten."

"Really?" he snickered with a shake of his head as he pulled away, the moment made worse by Steve's uncontained laughter from the pilot seat. "I thought we had grown beyond that, (Y/N)."

"I'm never beyond a good cat joke, T'Challa, I'm sorry. Love me, love my terrible sense of humor."

"Well, if I must," he sighed, "I will love you despite your lack of sense."

"Be careful there, Your Highness," Steve joined in, "her lack of sense includes being in a relationship with you."

Letting out a loud, painful groan, you lowered your head into your hands, both to mourn his choice of levity, and to mourn what would soon be the loss of your closest friend. "Oh, Steve, no. Why would you do that?"

"Excuse me, Captain?" When T'Challa stood, his posture made it clear that something in his mood wasn't willing to make jokes about the two of you, even when he knew full well that Steve meant absolutely nothing by it other than to give you a hard time. The King knew that this was the dynamic of your friendship, and he would normally play along, but today felt different to everyone around you.

"T'Challa, stop it, he was kidding," you offered, taking his hand to stop him. "Just sit down." He took your instruction willingly, though not without one final warning glance at Steve that caught your notice as well. "What's going on with you? You seem really tense. Did something happen?"

"Nothing of concern, no."

"I have to disagree."

"Really, it's nothing, now please, tell me about how you're feeling today," he deflected again. "You look much better. Like your beautiful self again."

"Hmm, you're good. You're really good, sweetie, but you know this isn't going to work. Tell me what's wrong."

He sat very still after that, staring straight ahead and to the other side of the jet where no one was; his eyes focused on a bare part of bulkhead as if he were trying to see through it. You had only seen him like this a few times, the most recent being after the loss of his father when you had first met, and you had hoped to never see the like again. The man was lost in the stirring thoughts of his mind, looking as if he could barely keep a sane hold of them. The two of you didn't keep secrets; that was agreed upon early once you committed to each other, and you knew that he would speak when he felt ready, no matter how long that might take.

"(Y/N), my position as king of Wakanda is a role that I have prepared for my entire life," he began very softly, as if it were a secret to know what everyone already knew. "My father taught me all that I would need to know to properly rule and to protect our people, but there is one thing that he never thought to share with me in all of the lessons he bestowed."

"What's that?"

"He never once told me how love would complicate that. Never once did he or my mother enlighten me with that truth, knowing that the day would soon come when I must face it. They never felt the need to help me to understand how my own people could turn a blind eye to what their king chooses in his life beyond his service to them."

"T'Challa? What happened?"

"Enough," he exhaled with a heavy weight, finally turning towards you, "enough so that it has come to my attention that you've been made to feel uncomfortable here, when all that I want for you is to feel at home. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I have told you-"

"No, you've told me that they stare, and that you feel their eyes on you as you move," he clarified harshly, "not that words have been spoken under hushed breath to make you wish to leave."

"Wait," you stopped him with a hand raised sharply, "who told you that? What have you heard? I never once said that I wanted to leave."

"Nakia overheard you with Shuri. She told me that you considered our relationship to be...stressful for you. That you have no pressures on you when I see you in your own environment and prefer it to being here with me. Not only that, but our duties with the Avengers puts us into a brighter public light, and stories have been told that my government has been unable to stop."

With every word spoken, you could feel your heartbeat speeding up and the sound of it beginning to pound in your head with a building anger. T'Challa looked so hurt, eviscerated at the thought that you didn't want to be in his homeland with him, and with no other option to offer you. You weren't mad at Nakia or Shuri; they were only telling him what they thought they had heard, which you would expect of either of them as his confidants and family. What you were mad at was the situation and how you felt powerless to correct it, and how the world felt the right to interfere with your private life. "That's not what I said, T'Challa. What I said was that it was easier there, yes, but not that I preferred it or that I would give up seeing you here. I never once said that."

"But you do feel pressured here?"

"Of course, because you're the King, and who wouldn't? It doesn't help that I'm an outsider, but I think that your standing as royalty outweighs all of that."

"Hey, guys," Steve stood from his seat cautiously, guilt in his face at his need to interrupt, "I'm sorry to do this, but we're here. I need you to suit up."

~~~

"Oh, NOOOOOO!"

"What, oh no?" Nakia asked, rushing across the lab to a stunned Shuri's side. "What's wrong? Are you okay? What did you do?"

"I have made a terrible, terrible mistake," Shuri hissed, her anger at herself turning to embarrassment and fear. She slammed her closed fists on the top of her workstation, making several projects topple and slam against the table without a care given in the duress she was being crushed under. "Where is (Y/N)?"

"She left with Captain Rogers and T'Challa several hours ago."

"For lunch, or something calm and soothing...yes? Please say yes."

"No..." Nakia answered hesitantly, "for a mission. Why? Shuri, tell me what's so wrong that it has you this shaken." She stepped forward to reach out for her friend's hand, but it was pulled back and away, only for Shuri to slap it over her mouth in both disgust and shock at what she was seeing in her other hand.

"He'll never forgive me for this. If something happens to (Y/N) on this mission-"

"Seriously," Nakia snapped, ripping the device from her hand and taking a look for herself. Her eyes widened as she took the information in, and she immediately understood the waves and unrelenting misery that your nausea had brought to you only the day before. "You told them that she wasn't."

"I understand that. But I was wrong, and she very clearly is. At least three months."