Adamantine (A Post-Black Panther Bucky Barnes Love Story)

21

I sit at the head of the long table, bored out of my mind as I listen to the council's reports. I had no idea that acting as a regent would be this mind-numbing. Bucky is leaning against the door, technically standing guard. His arms are crossed, and he shoots me a sympathetic smile. It lifts my spirits slightly.

Zawavari, the leader of the Mining Tribe, is arguing with M'Kathu, who leads the Border Tribe. They're sorting out reparations for the conflict, and I go to speak, but Ramonda shakes her head. I think for a moment before clearing my throat. Every eye shoots to me.

"Settle your disputes how you may," I state, and Zawavari narrows her eyes at me. "My concern is avenging T'Challa."

"Your concern should be leaving our country! You and the others- that ambassador and the- the king's pet!"

The room goes silent as everyone realizes her mistake. Bucky freezes. Shuri stiffens and glares at her, lunging forward. Her mother stops her. My reaction is far more dangerous.

I laugh.

Cold as ice, I laugh. The others shiver and stare at me in fear. I lean back in the ornate chair.

"Say it again." My words are almost whispered. A pin could drop, and it would echo.

"He was the king's pet, and the princess's experiment! Nobody wants a war criminal here!" the elder continues ranting, oblivious through her irrational, hateful rage.

She halts the second I lift my hand. My fingertips tingle as I grasp onto the molecules of metal within her chair. I close my fist, and her extremities are encased. A flick of my fingers and spears fly out of the Dora Milaje's hands and wrap around her torso, trapping her. My smirk drops.

"War criminal," I test the words on my tongue. Nobody dares utter a word as they watch me. "War criminal. Let's discuss your accusation, shall we? Bucky is a man who was drafted into war, and he bravely served his country without a second thought. He was captured and served as a prisoner of war, where he was subjected to human rights violations by means of experimentation. Then, after being thought to have died in combat, he was kidnapped by Soviets and subjected to further experimentation. His memories were wiped, and he was forced into becoming a super soldier. He had no control over anything he did while under their influence. He was quite literally mind controlled and poisoned. He was a victim. He was not himself; he was the Winter Soldier."

She has the audacity to scoff. "What is he now then?"

My eyes meet Bucky's. He has told me so much in all of our walks, all of our late nights we've spent whispering about our pasts. There are some things I will never utter to another soul because they are only for us, but there are others than must be said in his defense. Bucky and I share a silent confirmation.

"The White Wolf."

Bucky's deep voice fills the room, and Shuri lets out a breath beside me. T'Challa gave him that name, Bucky said.

"You are not the Winter Soldier. He no longer possesses you, but for all you have endured, the snow saved you all the same that day all those years ago. Embrace your past and let it make you stronger. You are the White Wolf now, reborn from the snows of Siberia into the plains of Wakanda," Bucky recited one night, playing with my hair. After a moment, "How can I embrace my past when it's...it's..."

I look up at him and cup his cheek. "You have gone through hell a thousand times over. Your past proves to you that you can survive. Embrace that. Not what you did but where it has led you."

He smiles at those words and leans into kiss me softly, murmuring, "Right here. It's led me to right here."

The woman stutters, "W-Well, how do we know he won't become the Winter Soldier again? How will we know he won't terrorize us all?"