Steve had told Emily countless stories about Peggy Carter. Of the day she saw him scrawny and stubborn, volunteering for a war he had no hope of winning. Of how she had stood by him when he became more than himself, when the serum transformed him, when he lifted his shield for the first time. Of the night he vanished beneath the Atlantic, believing everything was over—only to wake seventy years later, with nothing but the past behind him. And then, miraculously, Peggy had still been there. Old, but alive. His last tether to the world he had lost.
Standing outside the church as the bells tolled, Emily understood what she had meant to him. Peggy Carter was not simply an ally. She was proof of where he had come from, and what he had once fought for.
Emily did not intrude on his grief. She waited beyond the chapel doors, listening to the muffled cadence of prayers and hymns, allowing him his space. When the service ended, she stepped inside. Steve stood motionless at the front pew, staring at the casket as though it were the final anchor to a life he had already lived and lost. His shoulders were rigid, but his face was carved in sorrow.
Emily approached quietly, placed a hand on his arm, and drew him into an embrace. For a brief moment, his weight leaned into her, as if he had allowed himself to rest.
Natasha joined them, slipping silently into the pew.
Steve spoke without turning his head. "Who else signed?"
Natasha exhaled, the sound almost a sigh. "Tony. Rhodes. Vision."
"Clint?"
"He says he's retired."
Emily broke the silence. "And Wanda?"
Natasha met her eyes. "TBD." Then her gaze lingered on Emily, steady and unreadable. "Emily, it's been requested that you join me in Vienna. For the signing."
Emily blinked. "Me? I'm not signing."
"I know." Natasha's tone was even. "But they want you there."
Emily tilted her head. "That's strange." Then, with a wry smile: "When do we leave?"
"Three hours."
Emily groaned. "Love the notice, Nat."
But she hugged Steve again, tighter this time, then left the church in a rush, already cataloguing what little finery she owned.
***
The flight to Vienna was long and heavy. They landed in daylight, the time difference disorienting, her body still insisting it was night. Hunger gnawed at her first, exhaustion second. By the time she collapsed in the hotel room to prepare, she was painting over shadows beneath her eyes, willing herself into presentable form.
At the conference, a secretary approached, papers in hand. "Miss Cassidy, if you'll sign—"
Emily shook her head. "I'm not signing anything." She turned away before he could argue, leaving Natasha to her careful diplomacy.
She drifted to the great glass window, watching the city hum below. Vienna sprawled in morning light, stately and serene, untouched—for now—by the political storm gathering in this room.
Natasha's voice carried faintly behind her, speaking with a diplomat. "I'm not used to the spotlight. Thankfully, I didn't come alone. I brought a friend."
Emily's name followed. She stiffened.
"She joined the Avengers about two years ago," Natasha said smoothly. "We found her in a Hydra base in Siberia."
Emily spun, walking back, her eyes on the floor until she reached Natasha's side. Her hand landed firmly on the spy's shoulder. "Nat, I thought we agreed you don't share my origin story at cocktail parties." Her voice carried dry amusement, but her eyes warned otherwise.

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The King: T'Challa.
Fanfiction"Trust me when I say, T'Challa, you will be the greatest King Wakanda has ever known." *** Captain America: Civil War Black Panther Avengers: Infinity War Avengers: Endgame ...