"Sire."

"Yes?" T'Challa murmured quietly, opening his eyes slowly with a gentle rub of his palms against them in an attempt to erase the sleep away; the room was still dark around him, finding that it hadn't even reached dawn yet. Not immediately remembering where he was, he rolled to his side to see you still sleeping peacefully. He woke quickly at the sight and pressed his finger to his lips to silence his guard as he gently slid out of bed and to his feet, taking utmost care to not wake you.

"Your presence is required, your highness," the man whispered, leaning in closely. "We have your jet prepared so that you can leave immediately."

"Do not wake her," he commanded. T'Challa took a few steps from the bed only to turn back; he approached and gently ran his fingers over the soft curves of your cheek, following the glow from the moonlight through the window. "Tell her that I will return as quickly as I can, and ask that she not leave until I see her."

"Yes, sire."

—

Back at the team compound, Steve was sitting at the kitchen table, staring at his phone as his breakfast grew cold in front of him. His eyes were on the device, as one hand pushed his fork mindlessly around the plate. Bucky glanced over his paper every few minutes, impressed at the focus that Steve had, but equally confused as to where it was coming from.

"If you're not gonna eat that, push it over here."

"Hmm?"

"I said," Bucky huffed, "if you're so damn in love with the girl then maybe you should get off your ass and do something about it." He folded his paper and dropped it to the table, exasperated and eager to hear what he would get in reply.

Steve finally snapped out of his trance and looked up at his friend, now the confused one of the pair and raised his hand in his own defense, "woah, hey now, that's not it at all."

"Liar."

"Seriously, Buck, I'm not," he pushed. "She said she'd call last night and she didn't. I'm just worried."

"So call her."

"I was going to, but then I didn't want to bother her if she was..." he paused, grabbing his phone and shoving it into his pocket, "if she was with him."

Bucky pushed back in his chair and sighed, not readily convinced that the answer he had received was the truth. The very few times that he had seen his friend so out of sorts was over a girl. "Well, I don't think you have anything to worry about, Steve. He seems like a good guy. Attractive as hell. And shit, he's a king. The girl couldn't do much better than that."

Steve's expression fell blank and his face paled slightly when he looked back, looking like Bucky had just spoken in a nonsense language with an equally ridiculous point to be made. "You, uh...you think?"

"Absolutely."

"Great, then," he coughed back quietly. "I'd be happy for her if she found someone." Steve stood quickly, pushing his chair back with a loud scrape, throwing his dishes into the sink with a crash so loud that Bucky was sure that he broke a few of them.

"Then what the hell is with the attitude this morning?" Bucky countered, standing to confront him with arms tightly crossed.

"We don't know him that well, Buck," he finally admitted, "and I'm not sure how much I trust him yet. Maybe I'm overreacting and maybe he's really as great of a person as I've been told, but this is (Y/N), and she's my responsibility. She's one of my closest friends besides you and Sam, and I need to protect her."

"Man, you have to get over this guilt. It was an accident."

"I did."

"Again, liar."

Steve leaned back against the countertop with a groan and ran his hand through his hair anxiously, crossing his arms to match Bucky's stance. "The last time I saw her, she was in so much pain, and broken, and it was my fault. I need to see that she's okay, ya know? The last image that I have is when I first saw her there with my damn shield on the ground at her side, and I keep seeing her face when she looked back at me, replaying over and over. She looked like she was afraid of me."

"Nightmares?" his friend asked gently.

"Of course."

"Steve," Bucky sighed, "just call her. Or I'm going to."

—

When you woke several hours later, T'Challa was gone and your phone had one message from Bucky and three from Steve; well, technically four from Steve when he had ripped Bucky's phone from his hand in the first one, only to stumble over his words until he called back to try again.

You hadn't expected T'Challa to be there, and honestly you had no memory of when you fell asleep. After he kissed you, he apologized and became a little awkward, leaving you unsure of what to say to him. Without any further conversation, the two of you continued with another movie in silence, only to find yourself falling asleep against each other.

Sliding your legs cautiously over the edge of the bed, you pushed yourself up to stand with better success today than yesterday. Your pain was much better and your breathing was nearly back to normal. Searching from closet to closet, you found that T'Challa had made a full wardrobe of options available to you, making the choice difficult with so many options amongst such beautiful clothing. Settling for the simplest outfit that you could find, you dressed and ventured out into the palace for the first time since your arrival.

"Hello, miss," came a voice from overhead, eerily similar to FRIDAY, "how can I be of service to you this morning?"

"Um, I was looking for King T'Challa?"

"His Highness has been called to an urgent matter along our northern border. He sends his sincere apologies and asks that you remain with us until his return."

"Thank you, I will. Could you tell me how to find-" you stopped, hearing a commotion outside. You hurried to the window to see the palace jet landing on the lawn, the door opening with guards and staff spilling forth frantically, being met by more from the building. They were surrounding someone lying on a gurney and being rushed inside, and your heart sank knowing that it could only be one person to bring that level of attention.

"Was that T'Challa?" you asked urgently.

"I am afraid that I can't-"

"Like hell you can't! Tell me where they're taking him!"

The voice was silenced for a moment, only to return to make you realize that it wasn't an A.I. like FRIDAY; this was someone closely watching you who had to ask permission to tell you what was happening.

"I've been told that I can lead you to him," she replied quietly. "Please follow the directions as I give them to you."

Your phone began to ring again as you followed the lighted guide along the floor to lead you along your way. Hastily flipping it over in your hand, you knew who it was before you even looked to open the line.

"Steve, not now."

"What's wrong? You sound upset."

"T'Challa's been injured and I'm on my way to see what happened. I have to go." You disconnected without any further and kept on, hurrying faster as your heart began to pound in your chest. The hallways seemed to go on forever, finding yourself slightly out of breath more and more with each corner taken. You pressed a hand over your injury to ease the building ache, when finally, you reached the doorway to be met by one of his guards.

"Ma'am, please, follow me, but say nothing."

"Okay," you replied in a whisper, eyes wide when the doors opened to reveal T'Challa, lying at the center of the room, unnervingly still. You feared the worst until his head turned slowly towards you and a weak smile crossed his lips.

"Do not worry, (Y/N). I'm not dead yet."

Not caring that the guard was reaching to stop you, and not a second thought given when you twisted his arm back to release you, you rushed forward to T'Challa's side to see for yourself that he was okay. He had a large bandage wrapped around his abdomen, with a few areas still bleeding beneath them. "What happened? Weren't you wearing your suit?"

"I thought it was safe to not wear it. It was a diplomatic disagreement that I clearly misjudged."

"I see that," you replied quietly, hovering your hand over the wound but taking care to not touch it, "are you in a lot of pain? How bad is it?"

"Please, don't worry. You are injured too, and that should be your only focus, my..." he stopped abruptly, taking in a silencing breath and looking away.

"My what?" you asked cautiously. "T'Challa? What were you going to say?"

His eyes darted around the room to the many members of his staff looking back almost as eagerly as you were. He was afraid to say the words that had almost escaped him, until his eyes met yours again. When he thought about what he was about to say, looking at you and feeling connected to you as he had been to no other, he couldn't wait any longer to get the words out.

"My Queen."