ZARINA NEVER FELT OUT OF PLACE DURING WARRIOR TRAINING. Whether she be with Okoye and the Dora Milaje, with T'Challa and his private lessons, or even with W'Kabi and the Border Tribe, she never felt as though she was somewhere she wasn't supposed to be. She was glad to just sit on the side and observe, or even just listen as she focused on her studies, waiting for her friends to be finished.

At this instance, she was waiting for T'Challa who was training with some of the Border Tribe, W'Kabi included, and was struggling to try and focus on her work over the sounds of fighting close by. She had gotten rather good at tuning out unnecessary noise, but the sound of T'Challa in pain always jolted her out of focus, her head snapping up and stomach jolting in fear; no matter how strong of a warrior he was, Zarina always worried.

At that moment, T'Challa let out a pained groan and she instantly looked up, eyes widening as she saw him on the ground, clutching his side, the others in the Border Tribe shouting for him to get up; everyone is equal in battle, and training was no exception.

W'Kabi caught her eye from his position in the sideline and jerked his head over towards T'Challa, continuing to shout with everyone else, yelling at him to get up and keep fighting, his opponent waiting, but not kicking him while he was down.

"Get up!" Zarina called out, glancing around at the others, "Get up, T'Challa!"

She tried to peer through the crowd, catching his eye, and her stomach jolted as he grit his teeth in pain. Nodding to him, pursing her lips, she watched as he nodded back, pushing himself up, narrowly dodging the blow that would send him back down, falling back into a crouch, continuing to spar. This match would not end until one yielded, no matter if they were already down.

As it proceeded, she found herself growing more and more interested, unable to focus on her book when the sounds of T'Challa fighting were now at the forefront of her mind and senses. Tucking her book underneath her arm, she made her way over to W'Kabi who caught sight of her and moved towards the back, keeping the match still within his sights.

"Hi," he greeted, smiling, and she simply rolled her eyes; always a charmer, W'Kabi was, though his infatuation with her in their younger years had turned to the care of a sibling, glad to simply poke and prod with no real bite, only care.

"Okoye is not happy that you interrupted her training," she informed, and the man sighed heavily, tilting his head to the sky and groaning. She tutted softly. "Don't complain, it is entirely your fault—"

"I know it is," he replied, slumping his shoulders slightly, "Will you tell her I'm sorry?"

She shook her head. "I only report what you did wrong, it is up to you to beg for forgiveness and accept that you even did do something wrong in the first place."

"Which I did," he added, and she couldn't help but pause, unable to keep from smiling at his interjection; he really did care for Okoye, even if he pretended that he didn't.

"Just talk to her when she isn't in training. It will be fine," she said, jumping when there was a particularly pained shout coming from T'Challa and she turned towards the fight, gasping when she saw him spit out blood.

"It is alright, just relax," W'Kabi drawled, grabbing her arm and tugging her back; she hadn't even realized she had started forward until he did.

"He is hurting himself for no reason," she argued, pointing with her free hand, nearly hitting one of the members of the Border Tribe.

"He is getting ready for battle," W'Kabi corrected, still smiling, his tone easy and smooth.

Zarina faltered then, because the Border Tribe were the ones in charge of making sure that no strangers trespassed into Wakanda; she would refer to them as the male versions of the Dora Milaje, but to do so would be a vast generalization and quite ignorant on her part.

She also faltered because if anyone had to worry about the future king being a strong warrior, it was the boy whose parents were both killed by a man who had eluded Wakanda's grasp for years. They had been murdered when W'Kabi was still a child, but was old enough to have fond memories of his parents, making their death all the more unbearable for him; what was worse was the king's constant promises to catch the man responsible, but never delivering.

While Zarina would never dare speak ill of her king, a close friend of her father, she had to acknowledge that raising the hopes of a boy for years was more cruel than anything Ulysses Klaue could have done to him; there was no crueler mistress than that of false hope.

The sound of a shout caught her attention, and she turned to see T'Challa pinning his opponent down, unmoving and unyielding, keeping them down, but nothing more; he had been taught that a true warrior would never use more force than necessary, as the Black Panther, a title only possessed by the greatest warrior, which T'Challa strived to claim, was a protector, never causing more harm than necessary. T'Challa remembered, for the most part, but Zarina always feared his actions should he ever truly go to battle.

"Yield," T'Challa shouted, sounding incredibly worn out, but still standing strong.

After a few more moments, his opponent gave him, reaching out and tapping his leg, T'Challa letting go immediately, stumbling backwards before falling on the ground, gasping for breath. Zarina couldn't blame him, he had been having non-stop sparring sessions for hours at this point, and he was in desperate need for, at the very least, a drink of water.

Everyone seemed to have also decided it was time to stop, dispersing in groups, leaving their prince lying on the ground for his friends to help, but not before bowing in respect of course; they were equal in battle, but once it was finished, there was still the understanding of respect.

The young man did sit up, however, to nod towards his last opponent whom he shared a smile with, the two laughing tiredly before the other man wandered off to lick his wounds and rest.

Zarina rushed over towards him, immediately looking him over for any signs of damage that would need immediate attending to. T'Challa always made jokes about her acting like a physician without any proper training, but she'd simply shush him and tell him to sit still and let her look.

T'Challa sighed as Zarina helped him to his feet, letting him rest some of his weight on her, despite his being dirty, looking over to W'Kabi. "Will you join us at the palace?"

W'Kabi looked around before shrugging. "I am not the most vital member of our tribe, I think they can manage without me." He laughed as Zarina made a sound in the back of her throat, trying to tell him that he can't simply shirt his duties because he felt like it, T'Challa just listening idly.

"Zarina, as much as I love your voice, can you please not scream?" he asked tiredly, much more loose than he usually was, meaning W'Kabi could have some fun.

"You only like her voice?" he asked, and Zarina leaned over to look at him, narrowing her eyes in silent question, the young man just smirking back.

T'Challa, sighed and shook his head, his feet dragging as he slurred, "Of course not. I love everything about her. She's wonderful," he turned to give her a small, tired smile, his eyes unfocused, "You're wonderful."

Zarina nodded, clearly not taking any of his words to heart, telling W'Kabi to hold up his end and support T'Challa's weight, to which the other man replied, "He's the one leaning against you."

She huffed softly, pushing him up and trudging to the palace. "You will have to help him once he gets to the bath. I can't do everything for him."

"I do not expect you to," T'Challa mumbled, sounding almost affronted, "You never have to do anything for me if you don't want to."

Zarina sighed softly to herself. "Well, sometimes I want to." Realizing what she had just admitted, she quickly added, "Because you would never do it right yourself."

º º º

Zarina idly read her book as T'Challa slept beside her, his face tucked neatly in the space between her neck and her shoulder, an arm around her, holding her close, him on his side and her flat on her back.

Shifting, she moved so her back was to him, and adjusted accordingly, dropping his head to the back of her neck, pulling her flush against his chest, and she struggled to pull her left arm out from under her, resting it above her head as she continued to read. The content was fine, but she wished she had more resources to work with instead of just what she could read; of course, she had the advanced technology of Wakanda, but her point still stood, they were far more advanced than the rest of the world.

"You're thinking too hard," T'Challa mumbled groggily against her skin, and she rolled her eyes.

"You're distracting me," she replied, turning a page, "Go back to sleep."

He groaned, shifting so he was lying on his back, pulling away from her as he did, and she lowered her book to look at him, feeling much colder now that he was gone. He glanced over at her and grinned widely, to which she scoffed and went back to reading, but the damage was done.

Reaching out, he pulled her towards him, and she shifted around so she could rest her head comfortably on his shoulder while she read, resting the book on his chest, continuing to read for a few more minutes in silence before giving up and setting it aside, groaning and closing her eyes.

"You think too much," he chided, and she scoffed, swatting him lightly, "You act so old."

She gasped and propped herself up onto her arms. "I am wonderful to be around, you said it yourself."

He shrugged, hiding his smile. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

She groaned and dropped back down, idly drawing patterns into his arm. "I don't understand how I'm learning with this flexible of a schedule, it's like I am teaching myself."

"What better teacher could you find?" he said, and she couldn't help but smile, her cheeks warming at his praise, shaking her head.

"My father is a teacher, I could never," she sighed, and he rolled his eyes, mocking her words, raising his voice a few octaves, and she swatted at him again, "It is true! I am a good student and I can use what I am taught, but I could never teach."

"It would be a waste," he said, "Your father needs to share his knowledge, you need to share your gifts."

"What are my gifts?" she asked; if he was going to keep complimenting her, she might as well take all that she could get.

He shrugged. "What aren't?"

She laughed and shook her head. "While I would love to believe you, I can think of a few."

He sat up, frowning at her with the determined stare he wore whenever he was about to spar and didn't want to lose in front of his father. "Like?"

She sat up and moved to face him, trying to show that she was truly objective about this, there was no way he could argue against what she said, because she was truly not gifted in these areas, and she was not a lesser person because of it, she was just herself.

"I cannot fight," she said simply, and he scoffed, waving his hand to dismiss her, but she remained persistent, "Do not undermine this fact, I am surrounded by warriors, you think I don't notice? But I don't care, because I am not lesser for it."

"Do you have anything else?" he sighed, clearly not interested in counting her being more inclined towards studies than warrior training to be something she was not gifted in.

She moved to lie on her side and nodded. "While I grasp diplomatic relations better than you do, I struggle with the conceptualizing in three dimensions that my father taught us, as well as grasping the sciences you are more inclined towards, I find them to be confusing and not worth my time."

"Does that mean you are not gifted in those studies?" T'Challa asked, and she was pleased to note that he accepted her statement of not being gifted in an area he was.

"Yes, because I struggled with them, they didn't come as naturally to me, and they still do not," she explained, "Unlike your sister, however. Five years old, she's incredible."

"Don't remind me," he drawled, rolling his eyes, "She copies me with whatever I do, and she is already going through the lessons that I learned when we were ten. Twice her age, it is ridiculous."

"It is remarkable," she corrected, smiling, "I am proud of her."

He tutted, waving away her words. "You and half the tribe. Are sciences all you are bad at?"

She laughed, shrugging, "I don't make a habit of listing everything I am not good at, as I was taught to play to my strengths, not fear my weaknesses. If I remember something, I will tell you."

"So until then, you are gifted in practically all aspects of life," T'Challa finished, laughing when she made a sound of indignation, shaking her head.

"I am not gifted in all aspects and I am not perfect," she said, clapping her hands, to get his attention and speak over his groaning, "Listen to me. I am not. And that is okay. Because there is room for growth. I am not perfect, but I that doesn't mean I'm good enough."

T'Challa smiled softly then, a small, genuine smile, reaching out and pulling her close. "Okay. You are not perfect. But you are still wonderful."

She settled comfortably against him, grabbing her book. "Of course I am. Just because I am not perfect does not mean I am anything less."

AUTHOR'S NOTE

( 03.10.18 )

It has been the hottest sec, but it is back. If you follow me, you know that I've been focused on finishing two other fics, which I have, so now I can focus my time on this story, as well as others, because I missed this story.

I'm sorry this was filler, but I just wanted to kind of show a bit more of their day to day relationship and Okoye will be in next chapter, I'm so sorry she wasn't in here, but also, she's a Dora Milaje in training, so I figured that she would be pretty busy, but she'll show up, I'm sorry.

Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed!