Tony was still holding Peter when the boy woke from his nap a few hours later. Now, though, Pepper was on the sofa with them. She was on the other side of Tony speaking softly and sipping a cup of coffee, simply enjoying some down time with the people she loved most. Both of them smiled when the boy in Tony's arms stirred, finally, and sat up, looking around, owlishly, as his still sleepy mind reminded him where he was and who he was with.

"How was the nap?" Tony asked, his hand sliding along Peter's forehead, automatically.

"Good. Did I miss anything?"

"Nope. We were just told dinner's going to be in about an hour. We thought, if you woke up before then, that we might go look around the palace a little. Interested?"

"All of us?" he asked, looking at Pepper, specifically, wondering if she'd finished the calls she'd been planning.

She nodded, pleased and touched that he actively sought her company. Not all teens would want to hang out with their mom, after all, especially when there was an exotic African princess with a room filled with high end technology that he could be spending time with instead.

"Yes. If you don't mind?"

"It's better that way," Peter said, still sleepy enough to not make complete sense.

They left the room a few minutes later, fully aware that the palace security would know exactly where they were when it came time to find them for dinner.

OOOOOO

It wasn't something that he wanted to admit, but Alex Zihov had run into a wall. A large solid wall that had the name of Spiderman written all over it. When Joel had asked him to find out who the Spiderman was, it hadn't seemed like it would be that big of a deal. After all, social media being what it was, tracking someone down was almost always a snap. Even people who wanted to remain anonymous. People were crazy stupid, Zihov knew, and would put their information out on the web without thinking twice about it. He used that to his advantage all the time when it came to gathering information.

The problem was, this time it hadn't been that easy. Not only did this Spiderman guy have absolutely no social media interaction – even under the pseudonym – but the videos that others had taken of him and posted didn't give anything away, either. Which was unusual, Zihov knew. There was always something there to give something away. A little piece of information. A tiny crack in the wall of silence that would lead to something a little bigger, until there was finally a break in the dam that allowed the searcher to find what they were looking for.

There were a few videos that were posted by conspiracy fanatics or teenagers with nothing but time on their hands. These folks were saying that they knew who Spiderman was, and gave long, drawn out and incredibly complicated proofs that Alex didn't even need to check to know they were nothing but a load of shit. Not even worth checking out, really – although he did put one of his guys on the videos, just to be sure. He was nothing if not thorough, after all.

In this instance, Spiderman wasn't assailable. There were some blank spots that may have once held videos, but which had been deleted – at whatever source so the information man couldn't find the original video to see what had been erased. Couldn't see what it was that those who had erased or deleted the video hadn't wanted people to see. Nothing with Spiderman's voice, or anything too close-up that might give any indication of who he was – or even any duplicating location scenes that might tell him where to look for the guy in person.

It was frustrating. But he wasn't done, yet. This one was a tougher nut than most, but Alex was an expert. He had other resources than the internet, after all. The internet just cost less. He made a few comments in the right ears, spent a little money, and promised a lot more. Then he sat back to wait for the information to roll in.

OOOOOO

"Agent Romanoff…"

Natasha looked over at Fury, who had entered the lounge and made a beeline for the table she was sitting at with Clint and Steve.

"Director."

"Peter's safely delivered?"

"Yes. He was very happy to see Tony and Pepper."

Fury nodded.

"Good. He'll be gone two weeks?"

"Right."

"Good."

"What's up?" she asked, aware that his expression – which harder to read than someone without an eye patch – was a little more serious than the conversation so far warranted.

"Let me ask you this; you know who Alexandre Zihov is?"

"Yes."

"One of my SHIELD agents just contacted me. One of his guys has a contact who is trying to find out anything and everything about Spiderman – and all signs are saying it's Zihov who wants the information."

"Any idea why?"

"You know who Zihov works for."

"Yes."

"Then your guess is as good as mine. I thought you'd be interested."

"I'll take care of it."

"See that you do. Let me know if you need anything – or anyone."

Steve looked over at Natasha as Fury walked away.

"What was that all about?" he asked Natasha, who looked suddenly expressionless – which meant she was either really worried, or really mad.

"Joel King is trying to find Peter."

OOOOOOO

As T'Challa had promised, dinner was a much lighter affair than lunch had been – although the food had been really good. They were seated in a similar manner as they had been the evening before, and helpful attendants were offering him and those sitting with him various food and drinks, always polite, always smiling and clearly enjoying the chance to serve the visitors.

The room was filled with all sorts of people in various states of dress. Most were in ceremonial garb, as they were participants in the storytelling, or the dances or the reenactments of the various tribes. Those who were not performing, were standing at the periphery of the room, watching those who were – or watching T'Challa and Shuri interacting with their guests. Everyone was having a very good time, and the visitors were smiling and laughing with the king and the princess.

The palace guards and the king's guard were a solid presence, making sure that no one did anything that might need to be corrected. There were a lot of ceremonial weapons in the room, after all, and a king present. Okoye scanned the room constantly from her position beside T'Challa and was constantly in communication with the others, watching for anything out of the ordinary, but everyone was well behaved, stepping up to the dais in between performances to have a few words with T'Challa, Shuri or the visitors from America. A few others – chieftains and tribal elders were there, as well, representing their tribes as they performed, or explaining to the visitors the story that each performance was telling.

Peter was having a great time. He was sitting between Shuri and Tony. Shuri would lean over, occasionally, to point out a costume to Peter, or a symbolism in the costume – or someone that she knew personally who was performing. He would pass that information onto to Tony, who would tell Pepper – if she hadn't already been told by T'Challa, who was seated next to her.

When a large group of young men started a dance that included a lot of stomping, and chanting and spears not at all similar to the one Peter owned, Shuri leaned over once more, placing her hand over Peter's.

"You will like this one," she told him. "They will be reenacting an ancient legend of the Jabari tribe. A pure white lion who is said to have come from the gods and was sent to teach their greatest of all warriors how to hunt."

"Are there white lions?" Peter asked, curiously.

"Rarely one will be born. They are considered good luck – sometimes sacred, depending on the tribe."

They stopped talking, then, to watch the men dance and wave their spears, and Peter was amazed at how well the dancers coordinated themselves and their movements. It was mesmerizing, and he was glad that he'd slept earlier. This was something to see and he would have hated to miss it.

OOOOOO

"See that one? The young one without the hair on his chin."

The young boy followed the finger of the young tribal noble.

"The one next to the princess, my lord?"

"That is the one. He is thirsty and asked for a drink. Offer him this."

The boy was handed a small porcelain cup. He looked into it and thought it might hold tea. He didn't ask, though. He was a server – well, still in training, but getting pretty good at it. Servers didn't ask what they were serving. They didn't need to know. That was the responsibility of the cooks and the kitchen helpers.

"Yes, my lord."

Azoru watched as the boy walked over to the dais and bowed low to the princess and then to the boy sitting beside her. He saw Peter smile at the boy and take the offered cup, looking into it and smelling it, but not hesitating to drink it down in a couple of gulps.

The young Jabari noble smiled. The tea was pleasant tasting; he knew, because he'd had it before. Of course, the herb that he'd added to it after it steeped wasn't one that he'd dared to try, himself – although he knew that many of the tribal shaman and elders had. It was used for the rarest of ceremonies and was ultra-rare in its own right. It was mind-altering, and a powerful stimulant, but it wouldn't hurt the boy Peter. Only make him do something that would certainly make him look foolish.

Azoru didn't want a death that would certainly cause a diplomatic incident – and would make Wakanda look as back watered as the world thought they already were. He just wanted Shuri to recognize how ridiculous it was to even consider the American as a potential partner, when there were plenty of Wakandan nobles – himself especially – that were perfect for her.

He only wished he'd be around the next day when the herb started to take effect. It should be far more interesting a performance than the one they were watching, now.