"How about a friend?" – Steve Rogers to Natasha Romanoff, Captain America: The Winter Soldier.

Royal Palace of Wakanda, Central Wakanda, Africa.

For a nation that was (allegedly) concealed from the outside world for centuries, Wakanda sure knew a thing or two about extending hospitalities to outsiders. Having a legion of commissionaires stationed at the royal palace's main entrance to greet visitors, for instance, was definitely one of those things.

Steve would be lying if he said he wasn't the slightest bit surprised. The moment Steve passed the royal gates, he saw royal servants flanking each side of the palace's ginormous front patio. Steve had counted 10 heads (five men and five women) on each flank. In each flank, men and women stood alternatingly.

Guess what happened when Steve began traversing the patio?

The commissionaires bowed to him. Bowed. As in, hip-bent-at-right-angles-face-parallel-to-ground bowed. The display was, quite frankly speaking, unnecessary; unless one possessed Loki's delusions of grandeur, which Steve clearly didn't.

Seriously, what's next? Kneeling?

Well, if you're worried, don't. Because the Wakandans actually knew better than to indulge in Loki's whims.

They didn't kneel.

Just bowed.

To say that Steve felt welcomed would be a severe understatement. He felt like a goddamn VIP or something. Interesting. He supposed that the royal servants did not know (and most certainly did not need to know) that they were bowing to the same guy who had, just a day ago, delivered a powerful kick that sent their current King flying off a couple of feet at some German airport.

By the time Steve had traversed enough of the patio to finally stand in front of the commissionaires, he found himself in a deep predicament. What was he supposed to do to get these people to un-bow? Maybe he should divulge his little game of Kick-The-King after all. And do they even speak English? Dang. That copy of Wakandan Etiquette he'd purchased at the airport when he first arrived in Wakanda was so not helpful on that front. Granted, it's probably not an everyday occurrence in Wakanda where one gets invited to the freakin' royal palace, so Steve supposed that there was probably no need for them to include royal etiquettes in that little Wakandan Etiquette booklet. Come to think of, why on earth would they even need a booklet on etiquettes anyway? It wasn't like there was much tourism going on around in Wakanda in like, ever.

Maybe he should just quickly walk past the commissionaires. That way, they would probably straighten their backs once they knew he was gone. That definitely sounded like a good plan. Well, it'd certainly make sense, wouldn't it? Surely they wouldn't be enthusiastic enough to remain bowed all the while he was inside the palace dining with the King? If they did, then, well, either they have the strongest backs in human history, or…

Nah. They wouldn't. It wouldn't make any logical sense.

Looking ahead, Steve noted that there was still quite a long stretch of land between where he stood in front of the commissionaires and the palace building's main entrance. Without further ado, Steve followed his plan and strode decidedly past the still-bowed commissionaires towards the main entrance, turning his head over his shoulders once every few steps to check if the servants had straighten their backs yet. But damn, these Wakandans sure were persistent. Not only did they remained bowed, they had actually turned their bodies to face him even after he had walked past them. For the following few minutes, Steve contemplated hard on his next move. He felt bad, really. Having a bunch of people bowing to him was completely unnecessary.

Seriously, this whole display was beginning to make him feel like an asshole instead of making him feel welcomed. Way to go, Wakanda.

Well, he could always just walk back towards the servants and straighten them up himself. Not that he was familiar with the local lingo, but surely they could understand a few simple body language gestures, right? Or, he could just continue walking straight into the building, and hope that the servants would finally be the wiser?

Salvation came by the time Steve reached the palace's porch, when an elderly woman emerged from the royal palace's entranceway. Judging from the difference in her attire and the slight air of authority she exuded, Steve surmised that she was a royal butler of some kind; basically someone in charge of all the royal servants. The woman strode towards Steve with a smile so wide that it'd made him temporarily forget about the commissionaires' potential lower back troubles.

Steve returned the smile and waited at the porch.

Okay! Time to put everything he knew about Wakandan culture into practice.

"Good Evening, Captain Rogers." The woman greeted the moment she stopped in front of Steve.

"Good Evening, Ma'am." Steve returned the greeting. Now, he was supposed to wait until the woman initiate a handshake first, which she did. Steve took her extended hand with his right hand and grabbed her wrist with his left hand – a respectful gesture that was used to greet elderly people in Wakandan culture.

"Ah, Captain. I see you know a little bit about our culture?" The woman said lightly, clearly impressed with Steve's demonstration of knowledge.

Well, then. That copy of Wakandan Etiquette had its uses after all, so it seemed.

"Well, I try. Ma'am. And please, do me a favor and ask these ladies and gentlemen to rise up from their bowing positions. That seemed to be quite an uncomfortable posture to be in, and I feel really, really bad for them." Steve said, gesturing to the commissionaires behind him.

The elderly woman chuckled and barked out a few orders in their native language.

The commissionaires rose to a standing position, and all was right again with the Universe. Finally.

"Well-mannered, kind-hearted and considerate. Now I can see how you have earned the right to a one on one dining session with His Highness. Truly, it is an honor to have you here with us here tonight, Captain."

"It's an honor to be here, Ma'am" Steve answered modestly.

"Now. His Highness awaits you. So, shall we?" The elderly woman gestured towards the entranceway.

Steve tensed up at that. "Please lead the way. I'm not late, am I?"

"Relax, Captain. You are 10 minutes early." The woman smiled before turning towards the entranceway.

Steve followed, but not before turning back towards the commissionaires and giving them a nod of appreciation for their ceremonious (though unnecessary) welcoming.

He would've cracked a joke about each and everyone of them needing a back rub or something. If only he knew enough Xhosa to form a sentence worth a damn.

Too bad.

Once within the palace building, the elderly woman led Steve through a series of stairs and hallways, slowing down occasionally to introduce Steve to different sections of the palace. Despite her obvious seniority, Steve noticed that the woman walked pretty darn fast. Heck, she even managed to hold a steady conversation with him as they brisk-walked up a steep flight of stairs. Seriously, for someone so…advance in years, the woman sure possessed phenomenal amounts of stamina and energy.

Steve couldn't contain his smile at his previous thoughts. It amused Steve a little, seeing how he was now the one conjuring up age-related comments about his 'peers' (by strict technicality, Steve's peers would be the elderly. Just sayin'). I mean, it was usually him being at the receiving end of any jibes featuring geriatric statuses. And now, oh, how the tables had turned. Still, he couldn't help but wonder what Natasha would say if she was beside him right now. Hell, who was he even kidding? He didn't even need to wonder. He could totally envision the words coming straight out of Natasha's mouth if he were to make some kind of surprised remark about the elderly woman currently walking beside him. For instance, if he were to suddenly say, 'Hey, Nat. How could this elderly woman be so energetic? Think she's taking drugs?"

In which case, he'd better be ready to have his ass totally and utterly sassed, because he could be damn sure that Little Miss Sassy's reply would probably go something like this:

"Can't say I'm surprised, Rogers. You know what they say about fossils, they're an energy source."

And then she'd probably throw him that sexy smirk of hers; the smirk that he'd gladly kiss right off her mouth if she'd let him. Good God.

He was so totally, madly, and ardently in love with Natasha Romanoff.

They passed by a few servants, and once again, Steve found himself to be in the same conundrum as before – trying to get these zealous servants to un-bow. If the elderly woman was amused by Steve's over-display of chivalry, she didn't show it.

Finally, they stopped when they reached one particular passageway at the East Wing of the palace. The elderly woman procured a tablet device of some kind and began tapping on its screen, giving Steve the opportunity to study the passageway. It was wide, and tall, with only one door at the end. Said door was fairly large, and seemed to be constructed using dark mahogany wood. The entire passageway was, surprisingly, spartan. There were no portraits, or artworks, or decorative ornaments adorning its walls. The only 'decorative' items were the two surveillance cameras hanging above the mahogany door.

"I have just alerted His Highness of your arrival. You can get to the royal dining chamber through that door at the end."

Steve turned his attention back to his temporary chaperone.

"Understood. Thank you for the tour, Ma'am. I appreciate it."

"You're welcome. Do have a pleasant evening, Captain. And once again, it's an honor." The woman said, giving Steve a slight (thank God!) bow.

The woman left.

What lay on the other side of the mahogany door wasn't actually the dining chamber. Instead, it was a large waiting area. A metal sliding door occupied the other end of the waiting area, directly opposite where Steve stood. Five female guards were stationed in front of said metal door; two on each side of the door, one stood directly in front of it thereby blocking the doorway completely with her body.

All 5 women were battle-armed with vibranium spears on their right hands. There were vibranium sheath swords attached to their backs too. As for their attire, they all wore chest plates which covered only their breasts and backs; well, vibranium sports bras, essentially.

Steve's mind flashed back to all the times he'd seen Natasha wearing those black sports bra of hers, usually during those times when they shared a gym back at the compound. You see, those goddamn sports bras were the reasons why he sometimes got whacked in the face by a swinging 900-pound punching bag which he had somehow 'forgotten' to steady. Pfft, served him right for openly ogling at the sweat-glistened body of a certain redhead; a body clearly made for all kinds of sin. In his defense, those things looked skimpy on Natasha, okay? Not that he was deliberately looking or anything. Nope, totally wasn't deliberate. He didn't have a choice. It was a forced act, a coercion. Yeah, clearly, he had been dragooned into ogling, by Natasha's sports attire (or lack thereof). Gentleman or not, he was still a man, and a man could only defend himself so much from sexy redheads wearing skimpy sports bras. And oh, not to mention all the times when he had to abort his workout halfway and leave the gym before he ruined his reputation completely. The reason for that? Well, let's just say, that a supersoldier's hard-on isn't one to be trifled with. Thank heavens for the elastic workout pants he always wore to the gym, else he honestly couldn't be sure which would rip first: the front of his pants, or his skin. Neither would lead to any favorable outcomes, in case you're wondering.

Ahem, safe to say that those workout sessions, didn't quite, well, work out.

Anyway, back to the guards, who were now eyeing him with slightly menacing looks. Steve also noticed that the guards wore vibranium chausses, which covered their legs until mid-thigh. Overall, the guards gave off a somewhat intimidating vibe…sort of? Okay, well, maybe they could be intimidating for a normal person, one who has yet to face down an army of aliens flying out of a freaking hole in the sky. But considering all the weird things he had seen ever since he took the serum, this little marking-of-territory display by the guards didn't even come close to getting under his skin.

Unfazed, Steve advanced towards the other end of the waiting room, towards the metal doors. He did all that without batting an eye. He hadn't been wrong in assuming that the guard who stood blocking the doorway at the center was the leader of the pack, because as soon as he neared the door, the center guard had taken a step forward, seemingly to size him up. Deep down, Steve found their display of 'machismo' amusing. However, Steve schooled his expressions nonetheless, careful in not letting his amusement show on his face. They were his hosts after all, the least he could do was to show some respect to the nation who had graciously offered shelter and protection for Bucky.

Nice try, soldiers. Your size-ups might work on most, but this soldier had seen more stuff than you probably ever will in your entire lifetime.

Despite being thoroughly sized-up, Steve decided to play the respect-the-soldiers card, "Good Evening, fellow warriors. The name's Steve Rogers. I'm here upon the invitation of your King, His Highness T'Challa." Steve took out the golden envelope containing the T'Challa's dinner invitation from his blazer pocket and handed it to the guard.

The guard took the envelope without opening it and placed it in her waist pouch. "We know who you are, Captain. It's an honor to finally meet the Living Legend himself. But unfortunately, protocols must be followed. We cannot make any exceptions, not even for you." said the guard who had been sizing him up moments ago.

The guard had even thrown in a little smile at the end of her sentence. Huh.

How. About. That.

Well, at least she didn't pull a punch on him. Maybe these badass women had finally taken a liking to him. He supposed he could credit that to his Omni-functional 1940s chivalry. It so appeared that not even these tough as nails female warriors were immune to good ol' fashioned chivalry.

"Protocols. Right. You do what's necessary, Ma'am. I'll gladly oblige."

"We need you to empty your pockets, Captain. And also to remove your shoes and your suit jacket." The guard ordered sternly.

Steve complied immediately and did what he was told without uttering another word. At least he wasn't asked to remove the vest he'd worn under his jacket. He removed his black blazer first and took out a second envelope from the inner pocket of the blazer. He then passed both items to the guard before working on removing his dress shoes.

"What's in this?" asked the guard as she held up the second envelope which Steve had procured seconds ago.

"A gift for the King. You are welcomed to check its contents, Ma'am." Steve answered briskly. He now stood barefoot (he still had his socks, of course) in front of 5 domineering women, awaiting the next bullet point on Wakanda's dining-with-the-King protocol. Jeez, talk about emasculation.

The guard opened the envelope to reveal the sketch of the Panther's statue he had done that afternoon at the cliff top.

Apparently, Steve was forced to make final touch-ups on his 'flawed' sketch after all when he had failed to come up with any reasonable ideas to present to his host as a gift. Besides, he hadn't the mood to return to the flea market to browse for gifts, and the sketch happened to be the only thing gift-worthy lying around in the suite. Pfft, like as if he was gonna show up empty-handed to an invitation; his Ma taught him better than that.

Satisfied with her examinations, the guard returned the gift to Steve. With a curt nod of her head, 2 of the other guards stepped forward from each side of the door and procured weapons scanners from their backs.

"Now we need to you widen your stance, and lift your arms slightly." The center guard ordered, her tone, however, was not as stern as before; probably coming to the realization that this whole charade was pointless after all, and that Captain America's presence that night meant no harm to their new King. About damn time she got the memo.

Obediently, Steve did as he was told and the scanning commenced, which lasted for about 10 seconds.

"Alright, Captain. You're cleared for entrance. His Highness awaits you behind this door." said the guard who stood at the center as soon as the scanning stopped.

Steve retrieved his suit jacket from the guard after he put his dress shoes back on.

The guard stepped away from the doorway before pressing a combination of buttons on her electronic gauntlet. The metal doors slid open a second later.

Steve found himself walking into a huge dining chamber. The chamber was perfectly cylindrical with a large and expensive looking chandelier hanging from the center of the circular ceiling. Directly under the chandelier was a freakishly long dining table.

That's gotta be a 40-seater at least. Definitely not meant for a one on one dining session. For a split second, Steve panicked and thought that perhaps the night would be joined by all Wakandan high ministers or something, but had quickly dismissed that idea when he remembered the elderly women at the main entrance, who told him that the agenda for the night was indeed a private dinner with T'Challa.

"Captain Rogers."

Steve turned to his 2 o'clock and saw T'Challa descending a winding staircase.

Steve strode towards to the bottom of the staircase to meet his host.

"Good evening, Your Highness." Steve greeted. Steve took T'Challa's extended right hand with his own right hand, and at the same time grasped T'Challa's right wrist with his left – a gesture of respect he had picked up.

T'Challa returned the gesture, much to Steve's surprise.

After the handshake, Steve reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his gift, "Your Highness, here's a little token of appreciation for the invite, and also for your kind hospitality."

T'Challa took the gift gratefully, "Thank you, Captain. The pleasure is mine."

"Shall we?" T'Challa gestured towards the staircase. Steve nodded and followed his host up the fancy staircase onto the second floor.

The second floor was obviously meant for private dining. Instead of concrete cylindrical walls, it was enclosed by cylindrical floor-to-ceiling glass windows which made the entire floor a perfect vantage point into the breathtaking night-view of Central Wakanda. Despite the whole floor being a circular disk, the actual dining booth however, only occupied a 60-degree sector of the circular floor, a particular feature which struck Steve as extraordinary and bizarre, but he had made no comments about it for propriety's sake. Steve ambled towards the dining booth before stopping in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows within the booth.

Steve stared at the night view.

It was beautiful. The twinkling blips of city lights, little dots which lit up the darkness, like stars on land.

"Great view out here." Steve said.

"Glad you enjoy the view, Captain. Because it's about to get better." T'Challa replied.

Slightly confused by T'Challa's statement, Steve turned around just in time to see T'Challa pull out a control panel from the center of the circular room. Steve watched curiously as T'Challa pressed a combination of buttons on the control panel. The event which followed made everything click in Steve's mind. Because the entire second floor started rotating about the cylindrical chamber's central axis.

With an expression of awe, Steve remarked, "This whole floor is a rotating disk, that's why the dining booth only occupied a sector of the circle, well, it wouldn't matter since it's spinning around anyway. And I suppose that also explains the floor-to-ceiling glass windows and the cylindrical design of the building…" Steve paused and gave the chamber a quick once over, "This was meant to be a rotating restaurant. Very impressive."

"Wait for it, Captain. The best part has yet to come…" T'Challa said as he began walking away from the control panel towards the dining booth, where Steve stood.

Steve's eyebrows shot up, "There's more?"

Seconds later, a loud click was heard. The sound originated from the space above the ceiling. And immediately after, Steve noticed the gradual dimming of the ceiling lights. Eventually, as the lights slowly dimmed into oblivion, the dining chamber descended into a state of darkness. The meagre city lights from Central Wakanda became the only source of light in the dark room. Steve senses went into high alert instantly. Thanks to the serum, he had no problems seeing even under severe light-deficient circumstances. Slightly restless, he glanced quickly around him, eagerly 'observing' his surroundings. Okay, fine, whatever, he was paranoid, okay? His 'observations' were, in actuality, some form of threat assessment, just in case. Avenger or not, he was still a soldier at heart, and a soldier never let his guard down. That night, however, he was in luck, for he had spotted no suspicious or hostile presence in the chamber – just him and his host. There were no traces of guns, knives, or spears either. The room was near silent with the only audible sound being the steady and rhythmic breathing of his host.

The clicking from above the ceiling ensued after a long moment of deafening silence. The dining booth soon became pitch-black dark and Stygian as the booth rotated away from the Wakandan city lights to face the rainforests.

Seriously getting a little creepy.

"I mean no disrespect, Your Highness. But given the past few days that I've had? Pardon me when I say that I'm not a big fan of dark confined rooms with clicking ceilings." Steve stated warily, his senses still on overdrive.

T'Challa chuckled, "Patience… Captain. And relax, Wakanda is Fort Knox. I highly doubt that your enemies could even cross the outer borders of Wakanda."

A deep humming sound soon followed. Guess where the sound came from? Yep, it came from above the ceiling, again. Some ceiling that was. It was obvious that there was something going on above them, and the constant humming sound had Steve thinking along the lines of old machineries operating beyond the ceiling. Unable to contain his bubbling curiosity, Steve tilted his head skywards and squinted through the darkness, determined to discern anything unusual transpiring above them.

And then Steve saw it.

The circular ceiling was slowly retracting radially outwards towards its circumference!

Beyond the ceiling, however, was something infinitely more captivating. It was a hemispherical, transparent glass dome pointed directly at the clear Wakandan night sky. So in essence, the whole dining chamber was a cylinder with a transparent hemisphere attached at one end. Wow.

Seriously, the modern world never ceased to amaze him. Those damn helicarriers had costed him ten bucks already.

Guess I owe Fury another ten. Steve thought wryly.

"Behold, the finest stargazing spot in Wakanda." T'Challa announced proudly.

And damn right it was.

The Wakandan night sky was clear, with glittering specks of whites and blues spread across it. As if somebody had thrown a handful of powdery diamond dust across the night sky. Millions of miles away, the stars winked down upon its observers, like gleaming beacons of hope for the troubled and the despair.

"Son of a gun…" Steve shook his head in amazement, finding himself unable to tear his gaze away from the lure of billions of blinking stars. He was, at that moment, star-struck, literally.

"This is all very nice, Your Highness. You know, I came out of the ice believing that nothing in this world could ever surprise me again. Time and again, I was proven wrong. Seems like you've just added another item onto that list." Steve said in awe, his head remained tilted skyward.

"My father… He had this built a very long time ago, as you have undoubtedly noticed from the old and slow-performing machinery. When I was younger, our family used to come up here and dine every weekend. And then we would stargaze after dinner until I fall asleep. I have fond memories of this place…" T'Challa said with a hint of sadness in his voice.

The sudden change in ambience of the room was what ultimately made Steve tear his gaze away from the glass dome. Steve watched as T'Challa strolled towards the floor-to-ceiling windows with a heavily guarded expression.

"I'm very sorry about your father, Your Highness." Steve consoled, though he knew that the scanty condolence wouldn't make much of a difference. Steve felt like he should say more, but had opted to give T'Challa some space instead.

The young King of Wakanda stared quietly out of the windows into the bustling night life of Central Wakanda, seemingly lost in thought, perhaps reliving the memories of his late father.

It really wasn't all that hard for Steve to empathize with T'Challa. Steve understood the pain of losing loved ones very well, too well to his liking. By the age of 18, Steve had lost both of his parents. His father, Joseph Rogers, was killed in action during the First World War. Throughout his adolescent years, Steve had to watch his mother struggle through her ordeal to keep the both of them alive. So much suffering his mother had endured before, she, too, succumbed to tuberculosis on his 18th birthday.

His mother…

If there was one person whom Steve had thought created the man he was today, it would be his mother, Sarah Rogers. The woman who never once gave up on him. The beautiful woman who had taught him about perseverance. The woman who had taught him that the greatest strength that one could ever possess was the strength within one's heart.

A pear shaped tear slipped down Steve's left cheek as he remembered his mother's last words to him on her deathbed,

"A strong heart will take you further than any physical strength. A strong heart means you'll never quit..."

Steve's reminiscence ended abruptly when he heard T'Challa taking a deep, ragged breath. T'Challa's back was turned towards Steve, still staring out into the night through the windows. Following T'Challa's line of sight, Steve noticed the pitch darkness through the curved windows of the booth. At that observation, Steve surmised that the booth still overlooked the vast Wakandan rainforest. Sensing the emotional distress of his host, Steve decided to do something to diffuse the palpable sadness saturating the space.

"Are you alright, Your Highness?" Steve took one step closer towards his host. There were still quite a few steps separating the two men.

When T'Challa remained silent and still, Steve continued, "I know how you feel, Your Highness. I lost a lot of people too, and the losses were painful, especially when loved ones were involved. I've never met my father… so I don't really feel anything about his death. He died fighting the First World War before I was even born, mustard gas attack. But my mother…" Steve paused, took a deep breath and cleared his throat before continuing.

"My mother and Bucky, they were the only two loved ones I had back when I was still that sickly nobody from Brooklyn. They were everything that I had back then. They meant everything to me. And…I had experienced losing them both before, so I can totally understand what you must be going through right now. My mother died on my 18th birthday, tuberculosis. And… well, you know the story about Bucky, it was because I failed him…" Steve shook his head and cleared his throat a second time, "But on both accounts, I survived. It was painful, especially at the start, but I lived. So, I know that you will survive the loss of your father too. And trust me, I get it, I know you'd want to grieve on your own, all alone by yourself. But see, the thing is, you don't have to. You have friends, family, and a whole bunch of people who care a very great deal about you." Steve chuckled drily, "I tried to grieve alone too, when my mother died. Bucky was the one who made me realize that I really didn't have to."

Another pause from Steve.

That second pause made T'Challa turn from the window to face Steve. Seeing that he had finally gotten T'Challa's full attention, Steve stepped forward and stopped beside T'Challa. Steve's right hand settled on T'Challa's left shoulder in a firm and powerful grip.

"From the moment you offered to shelter and look after Bucky, you have found yourself a friend in me. So, you're not alone, Your Highness. Whatever you need, just say the word and I'll be there." Steve stated firmly.

T'Challa nodded, "Thank you, Captain. You've been very kind."

Steve smiled widely.

"You're welcome. Now, we don't have to do this if you're not up for it. You have every right to grieve for your father however you want it, Your Highness. And if you wish to be alone tonight, I'd respect that." Steve paused, his eyes gleaming with humor despite the darkness surrounding the room, "Plus, you were remarkably generous in your afternoon fruit delivery. I've still got half of that massive comb of bananas left unfinished back at the suite. Do you guys do fruit bonanzas here? Oh, listen to this, Wakanda banana bonanza… it's got quite a nice ring to it, doesn't it? Maybe you guys could make a festival of it." Steve's attempt at humor drew a deep chuckle from his host.

"Don't worry, Captain. I'm good. I appreciate your concerns though. And what kind of a host would I be if I send my honored guest back on an empty stomach? So rest assured, you will help yourself to the crème de la crème of Wakandan Cuisine tonight."

As if on cue, Steve's stomach rumbled.

"And… that, would be my stomach showing it's appreciation for your wise decision, Your Highness." Steve said, removing his grip from T'Challa's shoulder.

T'Challa laughed heartily at Steve's joke. And Steve, for one, was glad that the melancholy in the room was diffused. After the 'Civil War' fiasco, Steve was pretty sure that everybody needed a break from all the angst.

The laughter died down after a minute, and the mood turned serious once again.

"My father… he was a great man, a champion of peace. But the world had done him great injustice. And I, for one, would not stand by and let injustice continue to rule this world. I vow to fight in the name of peace and justice. It is the only way to honor his legacy, and not let his death be in vain." T'Challa said with fiery determination.

And then Steve said something which proved himself worthy as a friend of the King of Wakanda, "You are his legacy, Your Highness. He raised you to be a fearless warrior, and, not to mention one hell of a great ruler too. By my book, his death was never in vain, because he made who you are today. You are his greatest legacy, Your Highness. And I'm sure that wherever he is, he would be very proud. To truly preserve his legacy, all you need to do is to keep being the great person you are today, keep being the person he'd made you to be. That's how I think you should honor your father, Your Highness."

T'Challa was momentarily stunned into silence as he pondered Steve's words, and then he smiled in recognition, suddenly remembering what Captain America's greatest strength was:

The ability to inspire people, even people who are Kings, apparently.

Captain America, the inspirer of inspirers.

"You know, among all the hundreds of potential candidates for Erskine's Project Rebirth… I'm glad that they chose you, Captain. The world, aside from being extremely lucky to have you, is also too dumb to even realize its own luck." T'Challa remarked.

It was Steve who laughed this time.

"You're overpraising me, Your Highness. If you don't already know, I was just some kid from Brooklyn who was too dumb to run away from a fight he knew he couldn't win. Believe me, that, was the reason Erskine chose me. It never was that complicated. In fact I kinda think that I was just at the right place and the right time. Most would call it dumb luck." Steve answered modestly.

T'Challa scoffed at Steve's modesty, but nodded nonetheless, figuring that the modesty probably came together with Captain America's 'goodness package'.

"Well, then, I think we can all agree that Erskine was an extremely wise man." T'Challa commented.

Steve smiled at the comment.

"Thing is, every morning I wake up, I make it my personal mission to prove exactly that, to prove that Erskine made the right choice in me, and to keep the promise that I had made to him back in 1945…" Steve said wistfully.

T'Challa nodded in understanding, "And it's safe to say that you've done a great job in that endeavor thus far. Come, my friend. Have a seat and I will have dinner served in no time. Oh and do us both a favor, drop the honorifics, Steve. I would like to have a normal conversation between two friends for once." T'Challa said while gesturing for Steve to take a seat, which the latter gladly obliged.

"I hope you managed to get up here without any hassle." T'Challa stated once they were both seated in the booth.

"Oh no, it's no hassle at all…" Steve chuckled, "But you really outdid yourself with the commissionaires, by the way. It's been a long while since I felt like a celebrity. Thought my celebrity days were long behind me after my USO tours." Steve said, shuddering at the thought of his horrendous days as a dancing monkey.

T'Challa chuckled and said, "I've actually seen those footages when I was younger, knocking Hitler off his feet and all that. I remember there was the one where you lifted a motorcycle with 3 show girls standing on it. That one was actually pretty funny. And no offense, Steve, the costume you wore back then? It was ridiculous."

Steve groaned, covering his face with his palm, "Definitely weren't my finest moments."

"The commissionaires were actually the royal servants. And just so you know, they had actually volunteered themselves to be the commissionaires for tonight. Believe it or not, everybody in Wakanda wants to meet in person the hero who had saved the world 70 years ago." T'Challa said as he tapped away on his phone, presumably giving the kitchen staff the cue to start serving dinner.

"Didn't know that my 'influences' crossed Wakanda's sacred borders." Steve said wittily.

T'Challa lifted his gaze from the phone and smirked.

"Believe me when I say this, Steve. The people of Wakanda know everything about the outside world. It is the outside world, however, who knew very little about us." T'Challa answered confidently, which earned him a smile from the supersoldier.

"Touché. Any chance that that's gonna change in… say… this lifetime?" Steve teased.

"It actually might. Well, depending on the world's current interests, obviously. I mean, you wouldn't want a giant vibranium rock the size of a football field to fall into the wrong hands, would you? Who knows? If we manage to accomplish things like…" T'Challa shrugged, trying to think of an example before continuing, "…wiping HYDRA off the face of the earth for instance? Only then I'll actually consider revolutionizing Wakanda's foreign policies to be more… liberal."

Steve tensed immediately at the mention of HYDRA, "Wipe out HYDRA huh? That's not gonna be easy…" Steve chuckled bitterly "…sometimes I wondered if that's even possible. Back in 1945, when I was crashing the jet… I thought I had finished the job, with the Red Skull gone and all… But I woke up 70 years later only to discover that I'm still fighting the same battle." Steve took a deep breath before continuing, "The sole reason I was created was to take down HYDRA. Guess I wasn't enough."

"For what it's worth, Captain, the fight against HYDRA isn't over. The world still needs you. So, you might want to save any judgements about your adequacy until the fight is actually over." T'Challa said encouragingly.

Steve smiled wryly, "Guess I lived to fight another day, huh? Literally"

T'Challa, wanting to keep the mood light, opted for a change of subject.

"Anyway, when I mentioned 'hassle' earlier, Captain, I was actually referring to something more along the lines of my personal bodyguards. Ever since my father's passing, they have been increasingly protective. I certainly hope that they hadn't offended you in any way tonight. " T'Challa said, giving Steve a pointed look.

"The women in the waiting room, you mean?" Steve asked.

"Yes. The Dora Milaje. A group consisted of the most elite female warriors in the nation. For generations, they have acted as the King's personal bodyguards." T'Challa confirmed.

"Don't worry about it. I completely understand the duties of a soldier. I was once a soldier too, you know. I can see that they are very dedicated. And for that reason, rest assured that they have my highest regards." Steve dismissed T'Challa's concerns.

"Good." T'Challa paused before he slowly shifted his gaze towards Steve, "Interestingly though, before we met your team at the airport, Miss Romanoff had a confrontation with the leader of the Dora Milaje." T'Challa's tone was…odd. Inscrutable. There was a slight timbre in his voice, which, subtle as it was, remained discernible by Steve's superior auditory senses. There was also something in the way T'Challa spoke whose nature Steve couldn't quite decipher. Was it some kind of test? What was it? Steve couldn't tell from the content of the statement, because the statement, per se, was vague, and Steve was starting to feel that the vagueness was by design.

Feeling suspicious, Steve stared across the table at his host. And for a brief moment, Steve noticed something in T'Challa's facial expression as well. It was as though T'Challa was studying, no, scrutinizing him, watching how he would react to what was formerly said. All the more reason for Steve to suspect the fact that T'Challa had brought up the subject of Natasha on purpose. Steve's mind immediately thought of the worst.

Strange. Did something happened between Natasha and the guards that I should be concerned about?

"What happened? I thought Natasha was on your side before this." Steve asked warily, trying to get to the bottom of this unusual turn in their conversation. He was careful and had made an effort to keep his voice composed and apathetic.

"She stood in front of my car, trying to recruit me to join Stark. Well, like I said, the Dora Milaje members were increasingly protective after what happened to my father… so…" T'Challa threw yet another vague response but this time he added a nonchalant shrug. Yep, definitely by design. T'Challa's gaze was laser focused on Steve, apparently he was still studying Steve, and gauging Steve's every reaction to his own words.

"So there was a fight?" Steve cut to the chase. Not that he was particularly worried or anything. He knew that Natasha could hold her own in a lot of dangerous combat situations… but still… he was just…curious? That's right, curious, piqued, but not worried.

But she seemed fine to me when I saw her at the airport. Maybe she won the fight?

Nope. Definitely wasn't worried. Just… looking out for a teammate. She would have done the same for me.

T'Challa said, "No. No fight. I was there. I ordered my guard to stand down."

Steve's shoulder sagged slightly in relief.

"But a fight, if it occurred, would be extremely entertaining wouldn't you say?" T'Challa leaned back in his seat.

Okay, now that definitely got Steve intrigued. Well, of course, Steve wasn't one of those guys who would view a fight as 'entertaining' (no offense, T'Challa), but still, this was Natasha they were talking about… and whenever it comes to her, Steve needed to know. Again, not being overly concerned or anything, this was just curiosity.

"So… who's your money on?" Steve asked just as a female royal servant walked into their booth carrying a round tray containing two rock glasses and a bottle of what Steve assumed to be whiskey. Steve thanked the woman when a whiskey-filled glass was placed in front of him. Steve quickly recognized the woman as being one of the commissionaires who had greeted him at the palace's main entrance.

"Let me introduce you to Wakanda's finest brand of whiskey. And to answer your question, I would say that it depends on the circumstances of the fight." T'Challa said before he took a sip from his glass.

"Well, then. By all means, do enlighten me." Steve said before taking a sip of his own drink.

"If it was purely a hand-to-hand fight without any special armors involved, I'd give Miss Romanoff the edge." T'Challa said, setting his glass back onto the table.

Steve nodded in agreement, "Natasha is an extremely lethal hand-to-hand combatant. She could go toe to toe with a physically enhanced Bucky and hold her own using just her skills alone. But I can totally see where you are going with this. The Dora Milaje, they wear vibranium armors don't they? And I suspect that their spears and swords are all vibranium as well."

"That is correct. They were trained to incorporate vibranium's material advantages into their fighting styles. Hence, when fully armored, these warriors are deadly. On a good day, the best of these warriors could even fight me to a standstill. But all in all, I think that with her abilities, Miss Romanoff would survive a fight with a fully armored member of the Dora Milaje. But to overpower them when fully armored… that's quite difficult, even for someone as skilled as Miss Romanoff." T'Challa stated his opinion.

"Then I guess it's a good thing that I came here today as an ally. Would hate to add a few more broken bones onto my 'to-heal' list." Steve said jokingly, causing T'Challa's face to crinkle up in amusement.

Jokes aside, Steve was still unable to decipher T'Challa's unusual demeanor when the subject of Natasha was brought up in their conversation. Even queerer was the way in which Natasha was suddenly brought into the conversation, literally out of nowhere. Well, okay, Steve had suspected from the start that T'Challa had brought up Natasha on purpose, but for what reason? Still puzzled by the peculiarity of his host's actions, Steve leaned forward in his seat and pondered his next move.

It's not a breach of Royal Etiquette if I just simply ask a question right? I need to be careful here, Bucky is still under Wakanda's protection… If I say the wrong things and upset His Highness somehow…

You know what? To hell with it.

Steve wanted answers. If something had happened to Natasha, he had the right to know dammit. Damn straight, as the Former Leader of the Avengers, he had every right to access any information that concerned the well-being of one of his former comrades, in a purely platonic and I'm-just-looking-out-for-my-work-partner sense, of course.

Time to kick his 1940s chivalry up a notch. So here goes…

"Please don't take this the wrong way, but it's rather… strange, that you would suddenly bring up Romanoff in our conversation earlier. This 'confrontation' between Romanoff and your body guard…Is there…" Steve tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, "…something about it that I should know?"

That successfully earned him a deep and throaty chuckle from T'Challa.

Steve, looking slightly affronted, was just about to mouth off this 50-page speech about the welfare and safety of every member of the Avengers being his responsibility as the team's former leader, but then T'Challa waved a hand across the table and dismissed Steve's concerns, "Relax, Steve. Nothing happened to Miss Romanoff, really. I give you my word, warrior to warrior. But as for the reason I brought that up? Let's just say, that I needed a little confirmation about something, and leave it at that, shall we?" T'Challa threw yet another vague response at Steve.

Steve narrowed his eyes and eyed suspiciously at T'Challa's amused expression, "Confirmation? About what?"

But right at that exact moment, a royal servant just so happened to walk into the booth carrying a large tray containing the appetizer for the night: two plates of shrimps and two small bowls containing some kind of brownish-colored sauce.

"Let me introduce you to tonight's appetizer. Roasted shrimp with peanut sauce. One of Wakanda's finest." T'Challa announced as a way to officially kick start the agenda of the night. And obviously, as a not-so-subtle way of avoiding Steve's previous question.

"The food is to your liking, I hope?" T'Challa stated as Steve reached for a napkin.

They had just completed the final course of the night, which happened to be one of Wakanda's popular dessert dishes, Maandazi – T'Challa had explained to Steve that it was a special type of doughnut prepared by adding coconut milk into the dough.

"Oh, it sure was. Most definitely. Granted, it was very… different, compared to what I usually eat back in my day, but delicious nonetheless." Steve answered with an appreciative nod, placing the napkin back onto his lap.

And Steve wasn't lying. Within one short hour, Steve had tasted what he would consider to be the tastiest food he had ever eaten in his whole life. After the appetizer, they were presented with 7 more exquisite Wakandan dishes, including dessert. All dishes had been prepared by the top chefs in Central Wakanda. Some light dinner conversations were made, of course. Well, mostly it was Steve having a crash course in Wakanda's history and culture. All in all, Steve had a great evening; hardly a surprise given the amazing food, the exquisite night view, the good company and all that.

"Good to know, then. Because food preferences are highly subjective." T'Challa remarked as a staff came in to clear away the dessert plates.

"Well, I'm sure that my stomach would once again love to show its appreciation for all the Wakandan delights you have showered it with, only… it's probably too stuffed to do anything at the moment. Think it needs a little break." said Steve with a glint of humor in his eyes.

"Break? I'd hate to disappoint your stomach, Captain. But dinner isn't quite over yet." T'Challa quipped back, waving to the only remaining item left on the dining table. The bottle of Whiskey sat atop the table, half-empty.

Steve grinned, "I'm sure it wouldn't mind a couple more glasses of fantastic Whiskey." Steve took the Whiskey bottle and filled up both of their glasses.

"I noticed that you'd placed quite an emphasis on the word, 'different', when you commented on the food just now. Why's that?" T'Challa asked as Steve set the Whiskey bottle back down onto the table.

"Oh, that. I meant modern food in general, I guess. A lot has changed since my day. And one of the biggest changes I had noticed was the food. The food now's a hell lot better than what we used to have back in my day…" Steve clarified.

T'Challa reached for his glass, "Oh? How was the food different back in your day?"

"Everything was just…simpler. We used to boil everything." Steve snorted, "Wasn't like we had much of a choice back in those days anyway. Sometimes, we couldn't even afford basic cooking commodities, like cooking oil, pepper, salt… sugar. The Great Depression took a lot of things away from the people, and the luxury of enjoying good food was definitely one of 'em." Steve rolled his eyes, "People nowadays are complaining and nitpicking about the types of seasoning to be used on food, but back in my day? People would see 'small' things such as having fresh meat or fresh vegetables for a meal for instance, as a revel-worthy occasion. Can you imagine that?" Steve took a sip of his Whiskey.

T'Challa nodded in understanding.

They both sat in comfortable silence before T'Challa asked another question.

"What was it like? Life during the Great Depression. If you don't mind me asking, that is."

"Oh no, I don't mind at all. Well, in a nutshell, life was tough. Some families were able to get by, but some weren't so lucky. My family… we were kinda… well, I guess you can say we were on the borderline class between the lucky and the unlucky." Steve said as he sat his glass back down onto the table.

Piqued, T'Challa questioned, "How so?"

Steve's eyes turned misty at the question. Steve loosened his tie with one hand and leaned back in his seat. If he was gonna share his life experiences, he might as well relax and make himself comfortable. It surprised him though, that he was willing to share these personal things about himself with T'Challa, given the fact that they had barely known each other for a few days. But, then again, Steve had viewed it as an opportunity to improve his rapport with Wakanda. And besides, Steve kinda felt like he owed T'Challa a big favor, for providing shelter and protection for Bucky…and hopefully for Natasha as well if she ever needed shelter.

With a sigh, Steve spoke, "Where do I even begin…" He then lifted his gaze towards the glass dome, staring into the stars as he sieved through his memories.

After a few moments of silence, Steve began narrating his life experiences.

"Well, my mother and I, we were the not-so-lucky ones at first. We barely got by even with my mother working overtime every single day. We were struggling to pay for everything, especially my mounting medical bills… But my Ma never gave up, not even once. Despite the extreme poverty surrounding our lives, she still managed to put food on the table every day. Sometimes I wondered how she did it…" Steve exhaled, "Anyway. That was the not-so-lucky part. But things became better for us after we met Bucky's family. They helped us out, a lot. And, well, that was the lucky part." Steve explained.

T'Challa nodded in understanding, "Your mother sounded like a great woman. Strong."

Steve smiled wanly, "Indeed she was. Apart from Erskine, my Ma was the one who made me the person I am today. But I guess that's kinda a given, since there weren't many people around my life to influence me back then anyway. We had a lot of happy memories together, me and my Ma. The only regretful memory I had with her was that of me being such a huge burden to her. Sometimes, I'd even blame myself for indirectly causing her death…" Steve took a staggering breath.

At that, T'Challa's face contorted in confusion, clearly alarmed by Steve's words.

Seeing his host's confusion, Steve clarified, "Because I was always sick, so to pay for my medical bills… she had to work overtime. And she… worked at a hospital, as a nurse. That was how she contracted tuberculosis."

"Sorry." T'Challa consoled.

Steve shook his head in dismissal, "Don't be. You know, there was this one time…" For a moment, Steve debated inwardly if he should really share this personal information with T'Challa. It was an extremely personal story. Over the years, he had only told the story to the people closest to him and the people whom he trusted with absolute conviction. Well, actually one of his life's regrets was that he didn't manage to share with Peggy that story, but then again, he had been busy fighting a war during his time with Peggy. Not exactly the best of times to share childhood stories when the world could literally end any moment.

In the end, Steve decided to be forthcoming with T'Challa; for the exact same reasons that had him attending the dinner invitation in the first place. Besides, it wasn't like he kept that personal bit about himself as a dark secret or anything like that. It was just personal, that's all. In fact, he had willingly disclosed that story to Natasha before. It was during that same night where he snuck into Natasha's room to leave the two sketches he had done for her. Natasha had come to his room afterwards. He had told her the story that night when they traded stories with each other. She was the second person Steve had told the story to. Bucky was the first.

T'Challa was about to become the third.

Steve cleared his throat.

"One time, I got real low. Guess I just felt sick of being sick, and tired of being a burden. So I went up to my Ma and… I told her to abandon me. To leave me behind and to go live her life without me. Also told her that it breaks me to see her suffer because of me. Even worse, I threatened her that if she wouldn't abandon me then I'd do it for her, by taking my own life… I was only eleven at the time." Steve took another sip from his glass to recover himself, "But you know what she said back to me?"

T'Challa remained still in his seat, nursing his Whiskey, deeply absorbed in Steve's recollections.

Steve took T'Challa's silence as the cue to continue speaking, "She told me… that I was the sole reason she was happy in her life, and that I was her sole reason to continue living after my father's death. See, she said she was happy, despite the hellhole that we were living in back then and despite all the hardships that she had to suffer because of me… she said that she was happy. Only because I was there."

Steve inhaled deeply, and lowered his gaze from the stars back down onto the table, "At first, I didn't believe her, of course. I asked her how she could be happy with all the hardships and sufferings all around her. And you know what else she told me? She said it was because she understood the meaning of happiness. Then I asked what happiness meant to her, then she said, happiness meant living and spending every moment of one's life with the person one truly loves." Steve exhaled slowly and reached for his glass, "But then, I was still skeptical. Didn't really believe her because I was too young to fully understand what she meant back then. So instead of using words, she showed me. She went over to a drawer and pulled out a little notebook, showed me its contents…" Steve paused to take a sip of Whiskey.

"What was in it?" T'Challa asked.

"It was a scrapbook, a personal diary of some kind. In it, there were entries, records, basically stuff that she had written down ever since I was born. These personal journal entries… when she read them to me, they were all about how happy she was… and there were also a couple of photos. The photos were taken during the time when we could still afford to get our photographs printed out. I was just a few months old in these photos, and in them, my Ma was holding me in her arms, smiling like she was the happiest person in the world. After I finished going through the diary, she went on and told me that she'd rather suffer a happy life with me in it than live an unhappy but easy life without me in it…" Steve smiled fondly at the memory.

T'Challa nodded in admiration, "You really had a wonderful mother, Steve. She was a beautiful person."

Steve's smile widened into a grin, "I know. Well, after she told me those things, I felt like the luckiest kid in the world. It didn't matter that we couldn't afford nice food, good clothes or fancy toys, nothing else mattered to me other than the every moment I could spend with my mother. That was the first life lesson my mother had taught me, the meaning of happiness. From then onwards, I never brought up the subject of taking my own life again. Instead, I fought harder to live. I learnt to appreciate life, because she made me understood that every life is significant as long as there is a meaning to it ya' know? It was also after then that I never backed away from any fight with bullies." Steve chuckled at the end of his sentence.

T'Challa clapped his hands together before he reached for the Whiskey bottle, emptying its contents into both of their glasses.

T'Challa raised his glass for a toast, "Well, Captain. To Sarah Rogers. A loving mother, a strong woman, and one of the greatest human beings I've ever heard of."

Steve returned the toast and raised his own glass, "Thank you."

For a few moments, they both sipped at their drinks in silence.

Steve broke the silence, "So, I see that you've been to the Smithsonian then? I never really told you my mother's name."

T'Challa smirk, "See, Captain. What did I mention just now before dinner? That we Wakandans know a lot about the world. We have our ways of knowing that doesn't require us crossing beyond our borders."

Steve chuckled, "Touché." Realizing that there was only one final sip of alcohol left in his glass, Steve decided to propose a toast of his own.

Steve raised his glass, "To a new friendship."

T'Challa smiled as his mind registered the meaning behind Steve's toast.

CLINK

"To our friendship." said the King of Wakanda.