The very next day my brand new protector arrived, just after I finished breakfast. I was wearing my "I am a mess and don't have to go anywhere publicly for at least a day" outfit, which consisted of soft, comfy pants (barely any different from pyjama pants), a loose shirt and a wide hoodie with zipper. I wasn't wearing shoes - like usually, seeing my living quarters were a "non-shoe" zone, and I often didn't feel like putting on footwear in the remainder of the common living area. Other people, however, did wear shoes indoors, so I sported my fluffy slippers to prevent any toe-damage.
When I walked past a mirror and caught a glimpse of my messy self, I raised my eyebrows and muttered: 'Gee, Elissa, you're looking rather Royal toady.'

It was T'Challa who entered first, followed by him; James Barnes; The Winter Soldier; my bodyguard… however I should call him. He was dressed in all black, his clothing a mixture of ready for combat and secret agent; his jacket and boots were a little less sleek than those of most security guards, but they were still worthy of the royal palace. He just looked more… dangerous.
His dark hair came to his shoulders, and was bound in a short ponytail, revealing his clean-shaven face.
Overall conclusion: he looked more prepared for life than I. Probably could enter a gala without anyone batting an eye - while I, the princess, was looking more like a homeless person.

'Barnes,' T'Challa said, in a tone indicating right away he was in a professional state, 'may I introduce you to Merarre's princess, Elissa Meliatis?'
Barnes dipped his head, made a short and slight bow, and gave me a studying look. Not in an "I'm checking you out" kind or manner, more like an assessment. Which, actually, felt more awkward; I didn't care if somebody checked me out, but I did want to make a good impression if sobbed expected it of me. Wishing to give a good impassion and to be respected had been drilled into me since I was a child.
'Yeah, sorry,' I shied, digging my hand deep into the pockets of my pants, 'I'm not really looking princess-like today.'
To this Barnes didn't reply. He only said: 'It's an honour to meet you, highness. And an honour to serve you.'
Great, I thought cynically, because if T'Challa is right, you might be attacked by Lord knows what.
Though I just smiled politely - like always. 'It is my pleasure, Mister Barnes.'

Thereupon I looked at T'Challa, who was also studying me, with a rather worried look on his face.
'How are you doing?' he asked softly.
I shrugged. 'I'm holding out.'
He nodded, and cleared his throat, going back to his official and professional manner. 'Elissa, I have instructed Mister Barnes to stand guard outside whatever room you are in, unless there are multiple exits that are easily used.'
There went my privacy; I could see it fly out of the window.

'What about sleep?' I asked curiously. Doesn't he need to go to bed?'
T'Challa smiled. A typical detail I would think of. 'Naturally. At night you are – and this you must promise me – in your bedroom, which is already one of chambers in this building that are almost as safe as the bunker underneath the palace.'
'Almost as safe, huh?' I remarked, raising my eyebrows. 'I didn't know that.'
'Your parents worried about your safety a lot, Elissa.'
I swallowed; suddenly my throat felt hoarse. And my eyes hurt - maybe something had fallen into it.
'So, at night I'm alone?' I wasn't sure if that thought frightened or satisfied me.
T'Challa shook his head. 'Of course not, El-lissa,' he quickly continued my name, realising it wasn't proper to use his nickname, 'there will be two highly-trained security guards outside your door, after Barnes has made sure the door has been properly locked. Barnes will be nearby at all times, in case anything happens…' he frowned at his own words. I still wondered what he thought mirth happen. Considering I really didn't want to know, I also didn't ask. 'Is everything clear, Elissa?'

Going over everything he had said in my head, I nodded. 'Sure. I will be guarded better than America's President – no big deal.' There was a little edge to my voice, clear enough for T'Challa to notice. As soon as he did, he walked closer, and put a hand on my shoulder while speaking.
'That man is the president for four, maybe eight years. Without you, there might never be a king or queen again.'
'No pressure…' I muttered smirking. However, no matter how logical he sounded, his eyes proved this was almost solely personal. That he would have done this even if I had had twenty other barters and sitters that could take of the throne. Before I could lose it again, I hugged him, and mumbled, 'so it has nothing to do with the fact you like me better?'
T'Challa chuckled. 'As king I try not to get emotionally involved with international matters.'
'How's that working out?' I laughed quietly, my throat still sore.
The king hugged me back. 'I have failed that resolution many years ago.'