And Then I Wrote Marvel

"I Miss You..." "Are You Sure?" (T'Challa x Reader)

He brought flowers every day to your gravestone--the one in Wakanda, anyway. You had a grave marker in New York, as well. Your remains weren't under his stone, but they weren't under the one in New York, and you hadn't been cremated, either. You had never been found. You had been confirmed dead; they had watched you die. They had never been able to find your body after it fell into the ravine.

Your situation was an interesting one. Your spirit was split between headstones. Most people just had one, so they were tied there. You could travel between yours and listen to whoever was pretending to speak to you. Sometimes you wished that they could know that you could hear them, but other times you were glad that they had no idea.

You were the first to hear about Natasha and Bucky's little crushes on each other, and Steve's subsequent ranting that they wouldn't just admit it to each other. He was the best man at their wedding, as was expected.

That was all years ago. You hadn't heard from the New York gravestone since Memorial Day almost six months ago. The Wakanda headstone was much more active. Every day came freshly cut flowers from both the king and strangers. They stayed until they wilted, as the king remembered how you hated to waste perfectly good flowers, or anything for that matter.

At the beginning of your friendship, T'Challa had insisted on only the best, but as the relationship progressed, you had been able to sway him a little bit to your point of view. As you became closer to him, some of his values became yours, as well. Everything one of you did was reciprocated by the other.

Today was no different than any other. Your spirit sat on top of your headstone, meditating in the early morning sunlight. He would come to join you soon. It surprised you that he wasn't here already. He often came before anyone else was awake. You wondered if he had gone on a mission, but quickly scratched that. He always told you before he left.

You then realized the date. Today marked the 10th anniversary. Had it really been that long? You had spent most of it dead, but it didn't feel like 10 years. Perhaps he was preparing something special.

Most of the population of Wakanda hadn't approved of the idea of you, a complete outsider, and their king. That was almost 12 years ago, when you spent, at most, a few weeks at a time in the beautiful country. After T'Challa had brought you home with him for good, and the people saw how happy he was, public opinion rapidly shifted. Once you were their queen, they loved you like they did their king.

Today would have been 10 years of marriage.

You had never felt worthy of the love of such a man as T'Challa. He was kind and polite, his mannerisms emanating chivalry. You constantly felt guilty of stealing his heart the way you did, taking another girl's chance at paradise. Dying nearly two years into the union did nothing to satiate your desire for peace.

You saw his unmistakeable figure exiting the palace. He had planned something special; you were right. Following him were all of the Avengers, minus the new ones you had heard about. The original gang, more or less, was gathered together.

The last time you had seen them all together like this, they were grieving. It was so good to see them smiling and happy, laughing and joking. They told stories about you, a few that would have made you blush if you could. They shared favorite memories of you and how you had made their lives brighter in little ways.

They sat on the soft grass for hours, enjoying themselves in a way that you could tell that they hadn't in a long time. You had long since accepted the fact that you couldn't be apart of their world anymore, but today, you almost felt like you were really with them again.

Time passed too quickly, as it often does, and it was soon time for lunch. Everyone went inside, eager to taste the chef's wonderful cooking. You smiled at the memory. There was nothing that he made that you hadn't enjoyed.

Only T'Challa lingered. Every day, he had something new to share with you--some new insight on the meaning of life, a moment that he enjoyed because it reminded him of you. He was still ever the romantic, even though you were gone.

Today's words contrasted deeply with everything that had just happened. He spoke of how much turmoil he still felt after eight years of your absence. You were shocked; he had seemed healed for so long. You hadn't thought that he was still hurting. You almost doubted it.

You wondered if he was really sure that he missed you. Maybe it was just the current circumstances getting to him? Or maybe you had just wanted him to move on so badly that you had convinced yourself that he had.

He told you that the moment that he had watched you die was constantly on replay in his mind, and he still felt so guilty for not being able to reach you in time.  He had found the rogue that thought it would be funny to kill the queen of Wakanda, and had been ready to kill him, too, until he had remembered you.

You and your ideology had surfaced in the midst of rage and grief, and he couldn't kill the man. He spared his life, but sentenced the rest of it to prison.

All you wanted in that moment was to dry the tears on his face and wrap him in an embrace. However, you were intangible, barely visible to yourself.

He apologized for his emotional state, and went back inside to join his friends. You could only hope that they could help him.

You looked at the engraving on your headstone for the nth time, knowing exactly what it meant to him, and what it meant to you.

Queen of Wakanda, Wife of T'Challa, the Fallen Avenger.