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The first time Natasha arrived in Wakanda, she was ready for battle. She wore her own kind of armor: balled fists under crossed arms, shadowed eyes, and a saccharine smile. T’challa was surprised by how readily his country accepted her, not because he didn’t like her (after all what's not to like) but because his people thrived on their openness. They celebrated together and wept together. They didn’t share secrets because there were none.
He didn’t even know If Natasha was her real name.
His country folded around her like a warm blanket. The mothers mothered and the warriors trained and ate with her. Natasha’s native accent thickened over her first visit, part from lack of rest and part, T'challa thought, from a feeling of security within the collectivism of his culture. His country was far different from the one Natasha was raised in but the similarities of their cultures ran deep.
Shuri received a call from ‘a friend’ and Natasha left with a poultice of herbs on James’ heart and a Russian lullaby on her lips. A blonde man with a bow showed up on the border and took her hand as they left together. A week later the mother elders created a tea out of the same mixture of herbs. T’challa smelt it being diffused in Shuri’s lab.
The next three times Natasha returned were shorter in length. One was barely a night. The warriors on the border knew her and trusted her. They kept thermal blankets Shuri made for Natasha in their packs. As soon as she appeared they would wrap her in one and send her up to where her soldier rested.
Before Natasha ended her fourth stay, T’challa and Nakia caught a glimpse of her by the river. They were watching the sunset. Natasha was visible against the sun like a ghost dragged into the light. Nakia tilted her head back on T'challa's shoulder, pointed at the couple where they laid far off in the crux of a hill below, and asked if they were lovers.
T’challa laughed “I do not know,” he said, “Perhaps. Why do you ask?”
“Look at the way she lays with him, tucked in close,” Nakia said “they are clearly something to each other.”
“They do not need to be lovers to mean something to one another.”
When Natasha arrived again, Nakia met her at the border and brought her up to the palace. Natasha was wrapped in a blanket and armed with a cup of tea. Her hair was dirty and her face was dotted with bruises. By the time T’challa really got a good look at her, Shuri had already put her wrist in a cast and wrapped her ankle. He eavesdropped while Natasha and Nakia discussed Natasha’s recent attempts at liberating Russian girls from the international sex trade pipeline. Natasha and Nakia switched languages as they talked. Nakia was adamant that she learn how to speak to the world and Natasha was a dedicated teacher. T'challa lost track after the fifth change and his heart swelled with love and pride.
T’challa and Natasha didn't see much of each other on her visits. They were usually pulled in different directions. On many occasions her visits occurred while T'challa was out of the country. Natasha became close with his sister and his… Nakia. They both called her up on comms (a piece of Wakandan technology T’challa wasn’t altogether surprised Natasha had) despite his protests that Natasha may want some space. As T’challa listened to them laugh and outline better agendas for trade partnerships he realized that he may rule Wakanda but that women lead it.
Natasha checked up on them after Wakanda’s civil war. T’challa could tell she was busy. She reminded him of an antelope that had run so fast for so long that it didn’t know how to stop or slow. There was a tremble that ran through her. She showed up in the middle of the night and hugged his mother and sister. T’challa heard she and Nakia whisper well into the middle of the night. Natasha was gone by morning.
Leading domestic outreach wasn’t as harmless as T’challa thought. Natasha brought Nakia back to Wakanada late one night. Nakai was banged up and shaken but strong as she met his eyes and walked down the hall to their bedroom.
“She did the right thing.” Natasha told him.
“I know.”
After they spoke at the UN he saw her in the crowd. Her then blonde hair was tucked behind her ears but she wore bright earrings made by the craftswomen of Wakanda. She winked at them. At the cocktail party that followed the event, she introduced herself as Nadia. They watched her flirt with a greasy, clunky man, that smacked at his shrimp. Shuri mimed throwing up into her wine glass and Natasha almost lost her composure.
A week later her soldier awakened for the first time. T’challa met the man and shook his hand. James ordered him 'not to tell Natalia' until he had ‘put the pieces back together’. He stressed in a pile of accents that ‘he would not bring her pain’. T’challa respected the ferocity with which James said it. Shuri diffused Natasha’s favorite combination of herbs into everything. James was a champ about it.
James tried to hide and exclude himself. The children, in particular, wouldn’t let him. They teased him with their painted faces. He growled and chased them.
They called him the ‘White Wolf’ and Shuri explained that they picked it up from a story Natasha told him while he slept. James grinned in a way that was both sheepish and predatory but refused to elaborate on the story. Much later Shuri found out that the fabel was about a ‘White Wolf’, a warrior who always returned to his lover.
Shuri allowed James to wallow for two weeks. When he started helping the mothers weave and set up their wifi and told old fables to the border patrol at night, Shuri called Natasha.
T’challa knew the moment she arrived. The air felt different. The mothers chattered and the guards became boisterous.
T’challa met her on the hill and watched as she closed herself off. She wrapped the blanket she wore tighter around herself. It created an impenetrable cocoon. Her eyes were shielded and her shoulders were tense.
“You’re not going to talk me into leaving.”
“I am not going to try.”
They ascended the rest of the way to the private medical center Shuri had erected, in silence. Natasha gasped when she saw James. A sharp intake of breath that sounded like shock and pain all in one.
They heard voices from across the clearing. The children shouted for the ‘white wolf’. Natasha let out a laugh that cracked at the end. James’ sharp stance relaxed when he saw Natasha. He set a questioning eye on Shuri before he muttered ‘Thanks.’
She laughed but her reply was lost in the surge of emotion he felt beside him.
“Natashka,” James said lowly, “I remember.”
T’challa started when he felt an arm wrap around his shoulders. Nakia stood lean and strong beside him. She hadn’t been in the Wakanda that morning but T’challa was happy to see she had returned.
“Shuri gave me the heads up,” she said and T’challa rolled his eyes.
When they looked up again James had an arm tossed low around Natasha’s waist and she had his strong jaw bracketed in her hands. Her nails were jagged and her knuckles were bloodied but T’challa had never seen a more fitting couple.
“Oh yea,” Nakia said as she slid a wandering hand down his back, “definitely lovers.”