T’Challa was brooding and he knew it, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. Ever since he’d nearly died; ever since Erik. He could hate the man for what he’d done to him and nearly done to his family, but he couldn’t hate the why. He couldn’t imagine the feeling of betrayal he would feel if his uncle had killed his father; had abandoned him as no more than an unfortunate mistake to be forgotten. He could admire Erik’s drive even while he detested the kind of man it had created. He couldn’t argue that there were people who deserved their aid who didn’t get it; but he didn’t think war was the way to do it. He didn’t think destroying one culture was ever a way to help another.
And so here he was; brooding; because he also couldn’t deny that despite his methods, Erik had had a point. They had the power to help, and they should be helping.
He let the mask disappear from where it covered his faze, flexing as he shifted on his perch in the boughs of the tree. He looked up at the stars, head tilted back against the tree trunk, and wondered if whoever - wherever - his soulmate was, they would have agreed with Erik’s ideals or not. If they would struggle with them as much as T’Challa himself was.
He found himself thinking about his soulmate more and more often since he’d nearly died. Thought about whether he should search for them or not; and he was fairly certain that he’d seen proof of his soulmate; or so he thought.
He knew the myth; that each person had an animal that represented their spirit, and that it could lead you to your soulmate; and he could swear he’d seen the silver glimmers of an animal in the distance. It had always been just out of sight - making him unable to make out just what the animal was. He knew his own animal had to be the panther, and he wondered what kind of animal his soulmate would have that would compliment his own.
Closing his eyes, he sighed into the dark, listening to it hum around him. He wondered what it said about him, feeling more comfortable hidden away in the shadows where he didn’t have to worry about judgment for his thoughts of change than in the sunlight where he felt exposed to everyone’s scrutiny. After all, it had been full sunlight when Erik had near killed him; when he hadn’t had the advantage of the shadows; of the panther’s strength. He found himself wondering, as he often did in moments like this, if he really did deserve the mantle of Black Panther.
Another sigh escaped his lips and he dreamed of a day where he would feel confident enough to stand tall once more in daylight.
The tree jolted with sudden impact and it was only thanks to the grace of the panther that T’Challa didn’t fall from the tree, claws digging into the bark. He looked down, ready for a fight, and then couldn’t help but stare at the pure silver stag staring up at him. It looked to be made of pure starlight, and he stared in awe a moment longer before it huffed in frustration at him, pawing at the ground.
He leapt down from his perch, coming to stand before the majestic stag who looked him straight in the eyes, massing antlers looking far more dangerous from this close. T’Challa wasn’t afraid though. He knew he’d never have to be afraid of the physical manifestation of his soulmate. He couldn’t help but wonder briefly if the stag had been brought forth from his own longing. His near desperation to find someone who would understand his inner conflict he felt unable to share with any others.
The stag nosed at him, a shove to his shoulder, and T’Challa could feel the concern radiating from it now.
“What is it, what’s wrong?” The stag immediately turned, bounding off a few steps before looking back at him, all urgency now. Worry pooling in his stomach, T’Challa gave chase.
>>>
Harry crashed through the jungle, breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps. The burning in his side had nothing to do with overexertion and everything to do with the gash that was steadily coating his skin with blood. He felt weak and light headed, tripping over his own feet as he forced himself to keep moving. His wand was in hand and he shot back curses whenever he could, but at this rate his head was spinning and he knew when his pursuers caught up with him he’d be as good as dead. Despite his magical strength, he didn’t have the necessary tools or knowledge to stop himself bleeding out. That scenario was looking more and more likely as his head spun. He stumbled against a tree, crying out as it jolted the wound on his side. He could all but feel his skin ripping further and it had his stomach rolling, bile rising in his throat. He swallowed it back with a grimace, knowing that if he gave into the urge, the jerking motion of being sick would only hurt him further.
The yowl to his left had him jerking anyways and he couldn’t hold back the sob of pain as he curled over his injury even as his head jerked to the side to catch sight of what had made the noise.
For a moment, as he stared at what looked like the Patronus of a panther, he forgot his pain. The panther moved forward, and Harry braced for pain, but the panther nosed at him so gently it didn’t so much as jolt his injury. It yowled again, concern clear as it’s tail whipped back and forth, and Harry would’ve laughed if he wasn’t so sure he was going to die. What kind of luck did he have that he was meeting his soulmate’s animal now of all times. The panther nosed forward again, this time tucking itself under his good side, helping him back to his feet.
The rush of hope was nearly as dizzying as the pain as Harry let himself be supported by the warm, heavy wait of the panther at his side.
If he was able to see his soulmates animal, then the other had to be close. If the other was close, maybe Harry was doomed to die after all.
He took a stumbling step and then another, the giant cat supporting him as they moved. Then just as suddenly the weight was gone, and Harry faltered even as the cat spun. This time, the scream that tore from its throat was nothing like the soft almost chirping sound it had made for him. This was a threat and Harry felt dread pool in his stomach.
He turned, wand raised, grip shaking, and set his jaw.
He would not go down without a fight.
Hand pressed against his injury to staunch the bleeding as best he could, he blocked the first spell flung in his direction.
Then he shot back his own.
The panther screamed once more and leapt into its own attack.
>>>
It was the scream that T’Challa heard first and it nearly had him tumbling head over heels behind the stag he was still chasing through the woods. He knew what the scream of a panther sounded like; and he knew from the visceral feeling it brought to him that this panther was his. That wherever the scream had come from - that’s where he’d find his soulmate.
He pushed himself harder, heart pounding in his ears. For the first time in his life, the quiet of the night felt too loud - too oppressive. He was beside the stag now, running with it rather than behind. It tossed its head and in it T’Challa could read approval. He heard the crack of some sort of weapon and willed the mask to cover his face once more. He flicked his claws out, not hesitating as he burst from the trees. He had enough time to see the stag charge one man brandishing a stick, knocking him back with a hard shove, and he saw the panther that was him with its teeth around the throat of another. Then he saw the one who must be his soulmate, face pale and spattered with blood, a gaping wound in his side, and a tilt to his chin that said he would die before he backed down.
T’Challa was already a little bit in love.
He dodged a blast of light that shot out of one of the wooden sticks in one man’s hand, but he didn’t have time to be surprised, too busy launching forward to throw the man back and into a tree. T’Challa had already turned to launch his next attack, confident that the first was knocked back.
A cry of pain from behind him had T’Challa spinning back around in time to see his soulmate down on one knee, face twisted in a grimace of pain. There was blood on his shoulder now too and he felt a spark of terror twist through him. It seemed both he, the panther, and the stag had the same idea, because all three of them rushed their last opponent, and T’Challa didn’t feel the slightest bit of guilt as all three bodies slammed into the man.
T’Challa turned on his heels to check they’d taken care of the last of their opponents before he rushed to his soulmate’s side. The panther was already there, nosing at the man gently, and he leaned into it gently, huffing out a pained laugh even as he looked up, bright green eyes meeting T’Challa’s through the mask.
“You’ve got excellent timing.” the man noted, small, pained smile in place. The English accent surprised him, but he didn’t let it distract him. Instead, he let the mask slide back, revealing his face.
“You need medical care.” he said instead, and the man lifted a sarcastic brow.
“What gave that away?” T’Challa couldn’t help his grin even as he moved in, lifting the man carefully into his arms. He didn’t miss the gasp of surprise but ignored it for now. It was far more pressing to get his soulmate to his sister. The man slumped against him, face almost pressed to T’Challa’s neck. It took every ounce of willpower not to blush.
“M Harry, by the way.” the man murmured, and T’Challa grinned even as he loped through the forest.
“It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Harry. I am T’Challa.” Harry hummed against his skin.
“Where are you taking me, T’Challa?”
“My sister will be able to mend your wounds.” that seemed to gain a little bit more of Harry’s waning attention. Not that T’Challa was surprised; the kind of injuries Harry had received would have already killed some.
“They’re from magic. If she doesn’t know about magical healing she may not be able to.” and that was a lot of words for someone nearly unconscious.
“My sister has created technology more advanced than anywhere else in the world. If anyone could heal a magic injury, it would be her.” And he didn’t really know how to react to the fact that he’d just used the word ‘magic’ as if it were an everyday occurrence. Harry must have noticed his reaction because he gave a soft huff of laughter.
“I have a feeling we both have secrets to share.” And with the words, one of his hands brushed over the metal ridges at his collar that would otherwise contain his suit. T’Challa dipped his head in a nod.
“Indeed.” He realized then that the stag and panther were still with them, and he was surprised to see them following at good speed. Noticing his attention elsewhere, Harry tilted his head back, leaning against his shoulder rather than curling inwards, and T’Challa spared a glance to watch his eyebrows quirk. However, he didn’t look overly surprised.
“Have you seen this before?” He couldn’t help but ask, and he felt Harry’s eyes on him even as he concentrated on staying on his feet, jostling Harry as little as possible.
“Yes. It’s fairly common in the magical world for the manifestations of our soulmates to stay when someone is in mortal danger.” T’Challa’s grip tightened.
“You must hold on.” He all but ordered, and was granted another wry smile.
“I’ll be fine.” Harry assured, despite the fact that his eyes had slipped closed, his grip on T’Challa growing slack. “This isn’t the first time I’ve nearly died. It’s not even the tenth.” And he sounded far too amused for someone bleeding out. T’Challa decided they would be having a talk about a disregard for his own life was not something he would allow. They’d only just found each other and as kind and generous as people may say he was, T’Challa was selfish. He wasn’t about to give up the soulmate he’d only just found.
He pushed all thoughts about his people’s reaction to the fact that his soulmate was a white man to the back of his thoughts. This man was strong. Whatever he looked like, T’Challa already knew he had the strength of character to stand at his side.
The hand that had been pressed to injury slipped, dripping blood from still fingertips, and T’Challa felt his whole body go cold, pushing himself to run even faster.
>>>
Harry felt like he was floating. His entire body felt numb but it wasn’t in the unpleasant way he usually attested to healing potions and hospital wings. It was more of a cool, soothing feeling. Like a wash of fresh water. He fought with his heavy eyelids, mind struggling to connect just how he’d gotten to this moment of comfort from the pain and terror of holding his own intestines in his own body. He tried to move, to shift, to at least touch a hand to where his injury had been, but found himself unable to move. The panic that spiked through him was immediate.
“Be calm, Harry.” And it was a young woman’s voice that cut through his panic, joined by the pressure of a hand on his shoulder. He didn’t recognize the voice, however, and so his unease spiked. Yet the hand wasn’t really for restraint, because moments later some of the numbness faded, and he felt himself able to move.
He opened his eyes first, because there was no reason to lash out at someone who hadn’t hurt him, and he found himself face to face with a teenage girl watching him curiously.
“Where am I?”
“You’re in Wakanda. My brother brought you to me to fix you up. I think I did a pretty good job.” And there was a cheekiness to her that had Harry smiling despite himself.
“Your brother. T’Challa.” Because it was coming back to him now; the blood, the panther, and then the man. She nodded, smirking at him.
“And I’m Shuri. My brother mentioned you had magic. Is that what this is for?” And she offered him his wand. He took it immediately, smiling in relief.
“Yes. This is my wand.” Then he decided that she deserved a little more than that, having brought him back from the dead and all that. “Would you like to see?” And she was young enough that her eyes still lit up with childish delight even as she tried to present a more disinterested visage, giving a calm nod. He grinned.
“I can do anything with magic.” Watched the challenge flare. “What would you like to see?”
T’Challa walked into his sister’s lab, worry still a heavy weight in his stomach. Then his sister’s laughter rang out and he found himself running towards the sound, all but skidding to a halt when he found her and a bunch of her equipment floating in midair, the objects shifting through different colours and Shuri’s hair a bright, bubblegum pink, he could only stare. Then his gaze fell on Harry and the man was staring back at him looking somewhat sheepish. With a flick of the stick in his hand, both Shuri and her equipment were set back down and Shuri turned to beam at him.
“I like your soulmate, brother. You definitely could have done worse.” He watched Harry flush and found the reaction charming after the dry humour the man had presented during his near death experience.
“If you think he’s well enough, perhaps he could leave your lab and accompany me on a walk?” T’Challa asked, though he kept his gaze on Harry. Shuri made a rude noise and waved them off.
“He’ll be fine. But come back tonight. I want to check just in case.” They both nodded but didn’t look away from each other as T’Challa approached. Then he offered his arm.
“Walk with me?” Harry’s cheeks were still pink but he accepted anyways, gaze averting for only a second before they met T’Challa’s, mischievous once more.
“Sure, why don’t you show me around, Prince T’Challa.”
T’Challa was going to kill Shuri. Was fairly certain he could hear her cackling in the distance. He shook his head instead, tilting a smirk down at Harry instead. He’d done his research in the time Harry had been asleep.
“Of course, Lord Potter.” And it was worth it to see the shock on Harry’s face. Then he threw back his head and laughed.
“Guess I deserved that.” But he was far more relaxed now than he’d been before. “Now show me around. I have a feeling that it’s nothing like the rest of the world thinks it is. We’ll see if it’s any more shocking than stepping into the magical world for the first time.” And that was a challenge if he’d ever heard one. He had so many questions still; who were the men who’d been chasing him, where had he come from, what had he been doing in the forest? But as Harry kept up a stream of chatter, remarking on everything he saw with a bright smile in place, his tight grip on T’Challa’s arm betraying his nerves, T’Challa decided it could wait. After all, they were soulmates, they had the rest of their lives to answer all those questions. So instead, he smiled.
“Perhaps once you are fully healed, you can show me your world in return.” Harry beamed up at him in return.
“Absolutely. We’ll bring Shuri. She’ll love it.” And the fact that Harry was already thinking of his sister warmed him.
He stepped outside, blinking in surprise when the sunlight hit his face. He hadn’t realized just how long he’d been waiting for Harry to wake. Then Harry gasped beside him and he looked over to see Harry staring out at Wakanda, awed and amazed, sunlight spilling over his features, and felt himself relax in a way he hadn’t felt in months.
He could already feel the thrum of their bond building; had felt the rush of disbelief and pleasure at the view and warmth of the sun; and he knew without a doubt that this was someone he could trust. This was someone who would always stand beside him. Even without the bond he felt he’d known that from the moment he’d seen Harry standing tall even as his own life slipped between his fingers.
He turned his own face back to the sun and couldn’t help the smile that spread across his own features.
He was fairly certain that with Harry by his side he’d never need the cover of darkness to feel strength again.