Chapter Text
It took Bucky another three months before he approached Ramonda, and then an extra month to plan for the ceremony.
Bucky was still in the palace, in a room dedicated to guests. Shuri wasn’t allowed in their bedroom and they weren’t allowed in hers. The Wakandan Princess was making sure he looked respectable for his big day.
Shuri tugged Barnes down to her height, hands firmly cupping his face. “You asked Mother for this, so don’t chicken out now.” She adjusted the high neck of the black cape Bucky now donned, in addition to the Black Panther outfit. Correction: it was part of the outfit, one he chose not to wear, until now. An intricate necklace hung low around his neck, sparsely decorated in panther teeth. “Besides, you’re the Black Panther.”
“I’m not,” Bucky casually reminded her. “And I’m hoping I won’t be at the end of this.”
Shuri’s eyes narrowed. Her fingers didn’t quite dig into his shoulders, but her grip was firm. “Are you going through with this ceremony just to try and get your body back? Because if you are—the Panther God will not approve, and you will most likely be destroyed.”
Bucky’s eyes widened and he shook his head so vehemently, he was surprised it didn’t pop from his neck. “No. No, never. I do want my body back, but it’s because I’m ready to accept my future. I want to love your brother as myself. I don’t wanna hide anymore.”
Shuri relaxed and slid her arms downward, patting Bucky’s armor-covered chest encouragingly. “Don’t forget that when you meet the Panther God.” She smiled brightly up at her brother. She was eager to have the real one back, but James had somehow become family. The fact that the Panther God spoke to him, if only just once, was proof enough. “Soon, I will call you my brother,” Shuri whispered, taking his hand with both of hers.
Bucky used his free arm to pull the Princess into a tight hug. He couldn’t find the right words to convey how much hearing her say that meant to him, and hoped that Shuri understood just how much she meant to him through his actions.
The young woman laughed, “Let’s get you on display.”
“If I may interrupt.”
Both Shuri and Bucky turned towards the new voice and they both bowed their heads in respect. “Uncle,” the Princess greeted. She pulled Bucky down to press a kiss to his check before excusing herself.
Bucky gave S’Yan his full attention. Never once had he been alone with the former Black Panther. T’Challa was usually at his side. The older gentleman picked up the Black Panther hood, a look of nostalgia and reverence in his eyes. “You should count yourself lucky, Barnes.”
Every day, was Bucky’s immediate thought, but he was not going to interrupt.
S’Yan held out the mask to Bucky with a smile. “You managed to become the Black Panther even though you are not of the royal line, and didn’t compete in the tournament for the title. As the former protector of this nation, I commend you on the excellent job that you have done so far. If this ceremony does not guarantee the reversal of your spirits,” S’Yan clapped a hand atop Bucky’s shoulder. “We would still be in good hands.”
Bucky could feel the tears prickling at the edge of his eyes as he turned the hood over and over in his hand. He wouldn’t cry, not until he was back in his own body. He laughed, the sound watery, and covered S’Yan’s hand with his own. “Thank you.”
S’Yan smiled mischievously, his eyes sparkling with mirth. “How about you make a grand entrance?”
Bucky pulled on the hood, hiding his grin.
x
There were two majestic black panther statues that stood guard over the royal palace. The jaw of the one in a “prowl” stance slowly opened, revealing the Black Panther poised against its teeth. Bucky had never known agility since having control over T’Challa’s body. He almost felt like he was flying as he back-flipped from the mouth of the panther. He twisted, landing lightly on a crouched position on the wall of the altar where Ramonda stood. The drummers to the left of him increased the tempo of their rhythmic playing.
The Queen Mother smiled, her hands clasped together as the Black Panther stepped gracefully down from the wall to stand beside her. “S’Yan put you up to that, didn’t he?” she whispered.
“Yes, ma’am,” Bucky replied, unable to keep the laughter from his voice. He turned, his breath catching as he stared out at the sea of Wakandan citizens, all dressed in colorful and ceremonial garbs. His citizens. They spread as far as his eyes could see, and they were here for the union of T’Challa and James Buchanan Barnes. Speaking of…
Three members of the Dora Milaje escorted Bucky up to the palace altar, one to the left, one to the right, and one directly behind him. He was dressed in a soft white dashiki suit, with gold thread embroidered around the neck and at the hem of the trousers. T’Challa had opted out of the kufi and instead tamed his lengthy hair so it hung straight down to his shoulders. Unfortunately, like its rightful owner, it could never truly be tamed, and waves were already appearing in the straightened hair.
Bucky anxiously chewed his bottom lip, the action hidden by the Black Panther mask. Some head doctor would tell him it was narcissistic, the amount of love he felt seeing himself dressed so regally, but Bucky knew it was T’Challa, the man he had fallen in love with.
The Dora Milaje fell back when T’Challa stepped up onto the platform with his mother and Bucky. He held out his hand and Bucky immediately took it, holding on almost desperately.
Ramonda circled around so she stood before them, her back to the citizens of their nation. The drumming had been reduced to a low, steady beat, allowing her words to be carried on the wind. “I love you.” Bucky’s heart clenched, his gloved fingers curling more tightly around T’Challa’s. “Your families love you,” Ramonda continued, shifting her gaze from T’Challa to Bucky. “Your friends love you. You love each other.”
Bucky could feel himself becoming lighter. His grip on T’Challa grew stronger.
“You stand in the judgement of the Panther God. We will see what he has to say.”
Bucky’s eyes glazed over, iris and pupil disappearing in a film of white. T’Challa was hidden behind his mask, but it was a guarantee that his eyes had taken on the same ethereal appearance.
The real world faded away, but this new one did not remind Barnes of his previous dream. This world was bright, consisting mostly of a never ending whiteness, with shades of blacks and grays coloring the sparse grass and trees. He looked down at himself before shifting his gaze to T’Challa. Their outfits were reduced to strips of cloths to preserve their modesty.
“We’re in the spirit world,” T’Challa explained, reaching for Bucky’s right hand. The vibranium arm was missing, possibly considered a materialistic item. He tangled their fingers together. “We are just essence here.” T’Challa gave a tug and Bucky followed. They moved silently, avoiding the larger-than-life spirits that appeared above and behind them, but there was still no sight of the Panther God. T’Challa jerked to a halt with a soft grunt, turning to find Bucky no longer moving. It didn’t take long to find the reason why, seeing as how it loomed over them both. He released Bucky’s hand, taking a few steps backwards.
Bucky tilted his head back, mouth parted slightly in awe. This jungle cat was not the one he’d seen in his dream. This one was twice as large and yet still looked much friendlier.
“That was an old dream of T’Challa’s that I wanted you to share.” The Panther God roared loudly, lowering itself onto his front paws. He stared into Bucky’s whited out eyes with glazed eyes of its own. Bucky didn’t waver in their staring match, giving as good as he got. With a chuff, the spirit butted its nose against Bucky’s spiritual form. “It took you long enough.” A large pink tongue extended from its mouth to lap at Bucky.
Bucky yelped as he stumbled backwards, reflexively grabbing a fistful of fur to keep himself from falling over. Realizing what he’d done, he let go immediately. The Panther God rumbled softly and Bucky quickly realized it was laughing. He glanced over his shoulder at T’Challa and found the other man smiling. Another well-placed headbutt had him stumbling into his lover’s waiting arms.
Bucky blinked repeatedly, color returning to his vision. There was also a familiar weight on his left side. Bucky lifted his left arm, a happy sound escaping him as the vibranium plates shifted on his order. He lifted his head to stare at T’Challa, the rightful King.
In the process of removing his hood, T’Challa was unprepared when Bucky launched himself across the small space separating them, but he caught him nonetheless, his wide grin matching Bucky’s. Ramonda dare not separate them. Instead, she wrapped both men in a loving embrace.
“The Panther God has blessed this couple. Pity anyone who would stand in the path of their happiness.” Ramonda released them and took a step backwards, her arms spread wide. “Now let us celebrate their love!”
Surrounded by the drums beating in celebration, and witnessed by the people of his nation, T’Challa shared a loving kiss with Bucky Barnes.