Summary: it's Captain America: Civil War, but if Natasha and Bucky had escaped the Red Room together and Bucky was still framed.
What had started out as a simple training mission very quickly went awry. She knew all it took was a single misstep, one foot out of line and everything could come crashing down, but she'd thought they would be alright. It was supposed to be simple, after all. It was why she and Rogers had felt fine leaving Wanda and Sam to act individually and rely on comms.
She hadn't expected a bomb to go off and Wanda to accidentally destroy a building over the bazaar. She hadn't expected to come home so battered and bruised, worried about international retaliation. She hadn't expected a visit from General Thaddeus Ross the following morning, demanding that they all be held accountable for their abilities.
It was a disaster, she knew as much from the moment the General had walked through the Compound doors. When they were suddenly presented with an accords of sorts and an invitation to Vienna for a UN council meeting, she knew it was only a matter of time before things got even worse.
"I'll go."
She'd volunteered immediately. Diplomacy was her specialty. It had been even before the Avengers were formed and before the collapse of SHIELD. It only made sense that it continued to be her area of work when she knew all the right ways to weave her words and twist the politics to meet their needs instead of being bent around to meet the needs of politicians.
"I'll go too."
It was unsurprising that James wanted to join and after a nod from Rogers, it was settled. They were on a flight that night to Vienna, a single duffel bag to share between them and not nearly as much preparation as Natasha would have wanted.
When they arrived at the UN building in the morning, unease itched under her skin, and wariness danced in James's eyes. The whole thing felt wrong―from the timing to the faces present, she couldn't find it in herself to let down her guard and James seemed to feel the same.
"Stay down here," she murmured as they entered, guest badges beeping happily. "I'll find you when it's finished."
James nodded, eyes already scanning the perimeter.
Squeezing his hand, she let go and made her way up to the conference hall.
It wasn't hard to find. There were more international leaders gathered in the single room than Natasha had ever encountered in any other situation. Aside from the hearing after the fall of SHIELD, she'd never been in a room with so many politicians when no one was a target for a mission.
She shouldn't have been surprised when, part way into the meeting, things got even worse.
There was a bomb, of that much she was certain. What she wasn't certain of, however, was why or how. Security had been strict and she'd hardly gotten through with her widow's bites alone. She'd had to leave all of her other weapons outside and James had had to argue with his arm. Nevertheless, a bomb had gotten through and now she was desperately trying to get people to safety. People who wanted to restrain her; to control and monitor her just like her handlers had in the decades past.
She'd hardly gotten anyone out when she finally got word of who had done it.
"Impossible," she argued fiercely, scowling at Sharon who couldn't help but frown. "I was with him all morning. Besides, James would never―"
"I know," she interrupted evenly, "but that's not what people are believing."
Reaching for her phone, she pressed on James's contact and waited. It rang and rang and―went to voicemail. Her breath caught in her throat even as she knew James would never, never do something like that. Especially when he knew that she was within the target zone.
She tried again, murmuring a desperate plea in Russian that he would answer only to be disappointed.
"You said cameras spotted him fleeing?" she asked, turning sharply to Sharon. The blonde nodded. "In which direction?"
"Toward―"
A shrill ring cut her off and both she and Natasha glanced down at the phone. When Sharon answered, Natasha strained to overhear, frowning when the voice on the other end declared they had James in custody already.
Upon hanging up, the two shared a glance.
"Come on." Sharon waved her over to her car and all but scrambling, Natasha hurried inside.
It was the longest car ride of Natasha's life even though it was hardly more than fifteen minutes. The car hadn't even stopped before Natasha was jumping out, flashing her badge as she pushed her way inside in search of James or Rogers or anyone who could give her more information.
The sight of a familiar blond caught her attention and she turned sharply, shouting after him.
"Steve!"
He turned, eyes hard until they landed on her.
"He's alright," he assured her before she had even reached him. "No one hurt him and I―"
"Where is he?" she demanded. She moved to push past him, but Steve stopped her. "I swear to god, Rogers," she growled, scowling up at him. "Tell me where they took him or I'll take you the fuck out."
"They took him to questioning," Steve said. His grip on her arm tightened. "They brought in a specialist, someone who was familiar with his programming and who could tell us if it was triggered―"
"No one is more familiar with his programming than me," she argued fiercely, pulling free of him. "Any specialist you have in there is a goddamn fake."
Steve shook his head, promising the man was not. He was in the middle of reassuring her yet again that James was perfectly unharmed, it was just standard procedure, when Sharon caught up to them, Sam at her side.
"What I don't understand is why frame him?" Sharon asked, arms crossed. "He's been publicly involved with the Avengers for years. Since Natasha buried his identity in the Project Insight dump, he's never been deemed a public threat."
"That's because no one knows how his programming works," Sam pointed out, drawing Natasha's attention back to Steve. "Aside from Romanoff, there's no one alive who knows those words. And heaven knows―" He added with an eye roll― "that she'd never use them."
"The specialist," she echoed, staring at Steve with wide eyes. "What was the name of the specialist?"
"God, I don't remember," Steve muttered, scratching the back of his neck. "Zemo, I think it was?" Frowning, he asked, "Why? You don't think he knows the trigger words, do you?"
She didn't bother with a reply. Pushing past Steve, she shoved her way down the hall toward the questioning room. She hadn't even made it out of the main hallway before an alarm went off and pure terror filled her chest.
"James," she gasped. She tore down the hall, passing people on their way out of the building, and praying she would find him and not the Soldier.
She was not so fortunate.
With a skid, she came face to face with the Winter Soldier, gaze as blank as it had been so many years ago. Behind him, a door slammed shut and Natasha had a single moment to anticipate his first hit.
It hurt. God, it hurt, but she didn't let up. Her chest burned where his metal hand had connected with it, but she moved quickly. Climbing up and over his shoulders, she swung around his neck and forced him to the ground with a hard thunk. He rolled, she groaned, and they wrestled for several long seconds before Steve's voice shouted above them.
"Buck!"
The Winter Soldier turned, metal hand locked over her throat as he eyed Steve.
"Eyes on me, Soldat," Natasha snarled in harsh Russian. His attention flickered and in the moment it took him to turn back, she wrapped her leg up over his arm and rolled.
His hand unlocked from around her throat, but the relief was short-lived. Deeming Steve a bigger concern, the Winter Soldier jumped toward him. Eyes wide, Steve barely ducked in time to dodge the metal punch aimed at him. Behind him, Natasha could see Sharon and Sam come skidding to a stop.
"Get out of here!" she ordered, waving them away. They didn't.
Sam jumped forward, attempting to pry James off of Steve only to be thrown back against a wall. He groaned and while Sharon slipped over to make sure he was alright, Natasha returned her attention to James.
He and Steve were equally matched in strength, that much was true, but James was not in charge of his own mind. The Winter Soldier was and while Steve was fighting to stop a friend, the Winter Soldier was completing a mission.
"Goddammit, James," she muttered, leaping back into the fight.
She slipped between him and Steve with relative ease. Decades of fighting together had taught her how to read him, how to analyze his next move and react before he had the chance to act on it. She'd hoped never to use the knowledge but now, with Steve in danger and an international security council looking to lock them all up, she relied on all of her previous observations.
His eyes narrowed, his movements quickened, and it was all Natasha could do to keep up. But even in the Red Room, even before their forced partnership and following relationship, they'd been perfectly matched. He swung and she countered, dodging nimbly and swinging in return. It was all she could do to avoid her own predictable attack pattern and anticipate his next move. It was only after she used one of his own attacks on him that she was given a moment to strike.
At his momentary pause, a brief second where she could see confusion and frustration fill his eyes, she swung. Her fist hit his temple hard enough to make his eyes roll back and her wrist cry out with sharp pain. He collapsed, she gasped, and the room went silent.
Kneeling on his back, Natasha pinned his arms behind him. She wouldn't be a heavy enough weight to keep him down if the Winter Soldier was the one to wake up, but his breathing was erratic and the hit had knocked him out before he'd even hit the ground, so she was confident that it would be James who awoke underneath her.
Three long, silent seconds later and she was proven right.
His eyelids closed tightly, a groan coming from his lips, and he turned his head until he could see her out of the corner of his eye.
"Natalia?" he breathed, pain and panic etched across his face. "Tell me it was a bad dream."
"I'm sorry, my love," she murmured, her hand dropping from his wrists to gently brush over his cheek.
She glanced back only to see Steve, Sam, and Sharon watching them both warily. Making up her mind quickly, she slid off of his back and pulled him to his feet in one swift move.
"We need to go."
He didn't wait for further instructions. Sparing one more glance at their three friends, she pushed James in the direction of the back door and they disappeared.
* * * * *
There was a safe house that they had used shortly after leaving the Red Room. They hadn't yet connected with Barton, but they couldn't very well sleep in the streets, so they'd found an old apartment and stashed food and weapons inside to last them weeks. From Vienna, it was only a short ride in a stolen car until they got there, not speaking a word until they had inspected the room for hidden bugs or wires that could have been left since their last visit.
"How bad?" James asked softly, his first words since they'd left Austria.
"No one was hurt badly," she answered evasively. There was a bruise as black as the night spreading across her chest and rings around her neck, but no one else had been half as injured before she'd taken him down.
"Tell me."
"You threw Wilson into a wall." She didn't meet his eyes as she spoke. "Rogers took a few hits too. No one else got involved."
He eyed her, his gaze stopping momentarily on her neck before trailing over the rest of her. With no other bruises visible, his eyes returned to her neck.
"Where else?"
Natasha shook her head, but he was insistent. Despite only murmuring a couple of words at a time, he convinced her to show him and with a pre-set grimace, she pulled off her shirt.
The bruise from his punch had already darkened. Sitting just to the left of her sternum, it spread darkly under her collarbone. The mark was curved―a perfect fist―and James didn't need to ask to know which arm he'd hit her with.
Very gingerly, he reached forward with his flesh hand, fingers brushing over the dark purple and blue mark ever so lightly. She didn't flinch, something he thought she deserved much more credit for, but he couldn't stop guilt from pooling in his gut. It wasn't the first time he'd hit her, but he'd hoped to god that he'd never have to again after the last time.
"Tell me what happened," she said, drawing him out of his spiraling thoughts. He glanced up at her. "The specialist." She wrinkled her nose. "What did he want?"
Suddenly reminded of Zemo's questions, James's eyes widened.
"Siberia," he said. "He wanted the location of the others. He's going after the Soldiers."
"Are you certain?"
Despite her question, James knew she believed him. They'd never lied to each other, not for things like this. Nevertheless, he nodded.
"The Accords are only part of it," James said.
With the UN already causing strife amongst the team, it would be harder to organize a group attack should Zemo get his hands on the other Soldiers who remained in cryo. There was no question about which was more important―the Accords or preventing Zemo from getting to the Soldiers―but there was also no question about the problems they were sure to encounter, should they choose to go after him.
"Stark is already preoccupied with the Accords," Natalia murmured and he could see her brain turning. "He won't let us leave. He'll lock us up for this alone if it consoles the UN."
"You have to get Stark to trust you," James said. He reached for her hand, squeezing gently. "If you don't, he'll fall right into the trap that Zemo set. He wants us separated."
"James, no." She shook her head, pulling her hand from his to snake her arms around his waist. "This is our mess. We fix it together."
"And we will," he promised. "We have to do it from opposite sides, though."
She didn't like it. He could see it in the small frown that pulled at her lips and the furrow in her brow. Even as he tried to kiss it smooth, it didn't disappear and he prepared for her to argue with him. As it was, though, they were running out of time. Zemo knew where the other Winter Soldiers were hidden and Stark was on his way to herd them back into Thaddeus Ross's jurisdiction. It was only a matter of time before Steve came knocking as well, offering his help in a move that was sure to only cause more problems.
"I don't like it," she murmured at long last. She dropped her head to his shoulder and pulled herself closer yet to him. "I trust you, though." With a reluctant sigh, she lifted her head to look up at him. "Come back to me alive, Yasha."
He pressed a firm kiss to her forehead. "I will, I promise."
* * * * *
It was hard to leave James when his mind was still so fragile, but they had a plan and she needed to move. Rogers was already closing in on their little apartment where he would find James alone. He'd tell him that she'd left to pursue the Accords; that she felt they were more important at the moment despite how big of a lie it would be. She'd seek out Tony, tell him about Zemo and hope to sway him to their side.
Unfortunately, Tony had already been approached by one too many government officials and when she did reconnect with him, he had a teenager in a spandex suit and a plan to intercept Rogers at the airport. She hadn't even realized where James had planned to fly out of until they were on their own flight to Leipzig and FRIDAY confirmed their location.
"We're taking them in," Tony said, eyeing her a moment too long. "This is out of our hands."
She didn't say anything, but when they landed, she noticed him trailing after her and she let him. When she reached an empty hanger, the only thing inside a single jet, she turned to face him, arms crossed and face blank.
"You don't have to play double agent here, Red," he said, lips pursed too thinly. "We're a team."
"I'm following orders," she told him evenly. "I signed the Accords, just like you, and he didn't. I'm only interested in bringing him in."
Tony eyed her, curiosity and doubt coloring his face in a familiar pattern, but he merely nodded.
"We're a team," he repeated, his words deliberate, "and no paper I sign or government requirements will change that."
"Now look who's playing the double agent," she said with a soft smile.
He nodded, a small smile pulling at his own lips. "Be smart, Nat."
"Right back at you."
* * * * *
The comms were loud and the hangar was quiet as she waited. She'd gone out there for a minute, wrestling with Clint until he gave her a knowing look and she had to slip away, unable to keep up pretenses around him or handle the thought of fighting the others. If anyone else noticed her disappear, they didn't mention it over the comms and she didn't think too hard about it.
As it was, she wasn't given much time to.
James had followed her, Steve trailing behind him. Further yet, she could see T'Challa pause and glance their way.
"Nat." Steve looked crestfallen as she stood in front of them. "We don't want to fight you."
"You won't," she assured him, eyes catching on James's for only a second. "You never had to."
Raising her arm, she shot Steve three times with her widow's bites and he stumbled. Behind his shoulder, she hit T'Challa as well, shooting until her gauntlet was empty and James was tugging her toward the quinjet.
"They're down, Natalia," he said. "Now let's go."
Over the comms, someone shouted; something about Rhodes and Wilson and a fall that Tony couldn't stop. As she started up the jet, locking the ramp behind them and shooting out of the hangar, she pulled the earpiece out and crushed it under her foot. It wasn't until they were airborne and James swallowed back a gasp that she saw what had happened.
* * * * *
Arriving in Siberia brought nothing but harsh, cold memories for both of them. They left the jet a mile out, choosing to hike the rest of the way in case Zemo should attempt to escape. By the time they broke through the door of the facility, they were shivering.
They'd barely stumbled into the cryo chamber when they stopped short. A single bullet, one through the head of each cryogenic tube, was the only sign that anyone had been there.
"I thought you said he wanted an army," Natalia murmured, her hand drifting away from the gun stuffed in her waistband.
His shoulders relaxed, the immediate threat no longer an issue. "I thought he did."
He glanced around the room, searching for any sign of where Zemo could have gone only to pause. Nudging Natalia, he gestured to the corner where a television screen had been propped up. Out of place. Out of order.
"Zemo?" She looked at him curiously but he merely shrugged. "It wasn't there before."
Behind them, a door slammed shut and both of their hands darted to their weapons. When they spun around, however, they were met by the Iron Man suit, not Zemo. Or worse, James's mind echoed.
"You didn't have to play double agent, Natasha," Stark said. His helmet opened and his suit retracted. "I told you that. You should have told me―"
"You shouldn't be here, Tony," she said quickly. She glanced at James. "The people they keep here aren't safe."
He gestured to the cryogenic tubes. "They look taken care of to me."
"That's a new development," James muttered, his eyes following Stark's gesture. As his gaze drifted back, he paused. "So is that."
The TV screen was flickering, something it hadn't been doing moments before Stark's unexpected arrival.
Natalia and Stark both turned as the screen cleared, a time stamp visible on the bottom. James's breath caught in his throat and beside him, he heard Natalia inhale sharply. Stark watched in silence.
The video feed was old―decades old―but the date was clear and his metal arm was all too recognizable. There would be no question about it, should Stark decide to ask. Through crackling speakers, he listened with bated breath as a man, and then a woman, begged for mercy only to be silenced. His metal arm shone dully on the screen as he pulled it out of the passenger window and a moment later, the screen went dark.
"What the hell was that?"
Stark's voice was cold―colder than James had ever heard it before―and when he dared to glance at his teammate, his face was stony.
"An assignment," James said, his voice devoid of emotion. "Retrieve the briefcase, no survivors."
"Do you have any idea," Stark growled, taking a step toward him, "who that was?"
With a silent nod, James turned away from him. "I'm sorry, Tony."
There was a cold bark of laughter followed by the sound of the Iron Man suit whirring, but James didn't move away.
"You killed my mother," the metallic voice said, "and I'll kill you for it."
Natalia was the first to move, throwing a widow's bite at a junction in his suit that only she seemed to see. The suit sparked and spasmed, but still lifted an arm in James's direction. He jumped, barely dodging the hit that destroyed a cryo tube behind him.
"Tony, stop!"
He turned to Natalia and James shot toward the door, certain Stark wouldn't hurt her only to hear him ask, "Did you know?"
There was no verbal reply but when James looked back, Stark had one hand around her throat and the other pulled back. She was nodding, eyes closed tightly as the suit lifted her above the ground and Stark prepared for a hit.
"You fucking liar!"
Stark roared and James reached for the first thing he could, chucking a metal pipe halfway across the room and knocking Stark to his knees. Natalia slipped out of his reach, scrambling after James with a shout of "Get out!" that echoed through the hall. He did as instructed, throwing himself through the door, and only continued when he heard Natalia's footsteps pounding after him. Mapping out their exit in his head, he prepared to turn only to be abruptly stopped.
The Iron Man suit came crashing through a wall in front of him and he skidded to a stop, Natalia running into his back a second later.
"All these years," Stark snarled, a charged repulser aimed at them, "and you didn't say a word!"
He fired and they dropped to the ground. With his metal arm, he knocked Stark's feet out from under him, sending the Iron Man suit crashing to the ground, and knelt on top of him.
"We were teammates, Tony," he reminded him. A repulser charged underneath him and he ducked. "I didn't want to lose that trust."
From beneath him, FRIDAY echoed attacks in Stark's ear that James could just barely hear. His eyes dropped to Stark's faceplate, a plan forming even as Stark's own bitter reply echoed around him.
"You never deserved it."
James reached for the faceplate. Tearing it off before FRIDAY could give further advice, he tossed it across the room and then reached for the reactor. Stark snarled, his hand coming up to stop him only for Natalia to kick it away. Faster than James could blink, Stark threw him off and he went flying into a wall. He had hardly taken a breath when Natalia crashed into him, crumpling to the floor as Stark came shooting at them.
Even without FRIDAY's input, Stark moved fast. His fist slammed into James's face and his head swam, but he swung back in return. Without a helmet to protect him, Stark dropped with a groan at the metal punch. Natalia moved in quickly, pinning his arms down with her knees and reaching into his suit near his shoulder. Sparks flew, she groaned, and the suit spasmed as she ripped through wires, rendering one of the suit's arms immobile.
"It's not his fault, Tony," she insisted, reaching to do the same on the other side.
Stark's hand wrapped around her wrist and she shouted in pain as bones snapped.
"It's not only him I blame," he sneered.
He released her wrist and Natalia gasped but didn't give up on her goal of reaching for the other wires. Even with her broken wrist, she reached for the wires and yanked hard while James scrambled to her side.
"Natalia, let him go," he said, reaching for her uninjured arm. "We need to get out of here."
"He'll only follow us." She stepped back, cradling her wrist.
Even with a half-dead suit, James knew it was true. The fury that etched across Stark's face would not be easily set aside and unless they stopped him now, Stark would pursue them. They'd need to disable the suit, even if that meant leaving Stark in the frozen tundra of Siberia while they made their escape.
He eyed the reactor, watching as Stark pushed himself up, fighting the dead arms of the suit to do so.
"You're fucking dead to me," he snarled. "Both of you."
James moved before Stark was fully upright.
He tore into the center of the suit, fingers wrapping around the reactor and sparks flying wildly. With one tug, he pulled it loose and let the reactor drop to the floor beside him. Clambering to his feet, James watched the suit die and both Natalia's and Stark's eyes widen.
"I'm sorry, Tony," he repeated, "but it was the only way."
His arm curled around Natalia, urging her out the back door of the base before Stark could regain his senses and pursue them. As they stumbled into the Siberian winter, snow hitting their faces, Natalia paused to look back after Stark, but James merely pulled her forward.
"He'll be alright, my love," he promised.
"You don't know that," she argued, standing stubbornly in the doorway. "He's our teammate, no matter how mad he is now. We can't leave him to die!"
"We won't."
His eyes caught on a black figure making its way toward the base. Beside it, a red-white-and-blue shield moved through the blizzard as well.
"Steve's already here," he said, nodding toward the figures. They ducked back behind a rock. "He'll take him back to the Compound, but we need to go."
With a reluctant nod, she followed him into the tundra. They stumbled over rocks and slipped on ice, but they made it back to the jet in one piece. It was James who took control this time, letting Natalia have a moment on her own as she fixed up her wrist and caught her breath. When she did finally join him, they were no longer in Russian airspace.
"I'm sorry it had to go like this," James murmured. He offered her his hand, palm up, but she didn't take it.
Eyes fixed out the window, Natalia merely nodded. "He was bound to find out one day."
James couldn't help but wonder if that had been Zemo's intention all along. He'd killed the other Soldiers, something James hadn't thought he would do, and prepared the old mission video well before they had arrived. It had almost seemed too personal; as if Zemo had planned on Stark following them and intended for the Iron Man to put an end to the last two super soldiers that he hadn't taken care of himself. It was a worrisome thought, but one that he would not voice.
Zemo was the smallest of their worries, now. With the Accords in place, they were fugitives of nearly every government in the world until they turned themselves in and signed. The fact that Natalia had signed before switching sides―something she'd needed to do in order to gain Stark's trust in the beginning―would only make matters worse.
They'd have to lay low. Until they could safely reconcile or come up with another solution, they would be as much on their own as they had been so many years before between Hydra and SHIELD. This time, however, they were more recognizable, easier to spot, and with more enemies than before.
Ever prepared and perhaps too paranoid, they already had a place in mind; off the books, somewhere not even Barton knew of, yet still reachable by jet. It wasn't until they had settled in―cloaked the jet and restocked the pantry―that they received a call from Steve with an offer of immunity and a promise of safety.
"Who?" James demanded. His eyes followed Natalia across the room as she flitted around the kitchen. "No one in the goddamn world would be stupid enough to shelter us right now."
"T'Challa and I reached an agreement."
James frowned. "The guy who tried to kill me?"
"Yeah," Steve confirmed. James's frown deepened. "He heard about Zemo and how you'd been framed. He's offering Wakanda as a safe haven as an apology."
Remembering that Steve had mentioned an agreement, James asked, "In exchange for what?"
There was a long pause. Natalia's eyes drifted to his, a question in them that he could not yet answer.
At long last, Steve answered. "He believes his sister can remove your trigger words."
James scoffed. It was impossible, Hydra had made sure of it, and he told Steve as much.
"Apparently she's a genius," Steve argued. "She's worked with memory alteration before and believes she can help."
"I'm telling you, Steve," James insisted, "she can't."
When Steve's hopeful response echoed through the receiver―"But isn't it worth a shot?"―James knew he had no choice. He promised to speak with Natalia and hung up only for her to immediately say yes. By the next morning, they had removed every last trace of their presence from the safe house and left for Wakanda with the hope of a miracle that James didn't dare believe in.
* * * * *
Waiting was the hardest part. With the promise of a miracle, Natasha couldn't stop herself from counting the days since they'd arrived and wondering how much longer it would take before James was out.
Despite being reassured that it was permitted, she didn't dare go see him. Seeing him step inside the cryo tube had triggered too many memories for her, sending her into a spiral that had taken a week to crawl out of. Too afraid of what would happen if she saw him in the tube again, she hadn't been back down to visit.
When the princess requested her in the lab one month later, however, Natasha found she couldn't say no.
She was glad she hadn't.
Upon stepping into the lab, Natasha was faced with the sight of James, smiling at something the young girl had said and no longer closed in a cryo tube. He'd been let out, she realized with a gasp, and that meant that the princess had been successful.
"I think so, at least," Shuri said. She didn't quite meet Natasha's eyes as she said, "I still need someone to actually try it."
Her breath caught in her throat and her eyes darted to James, but he only nodded.
"No." She shook her head. "I promised to never―"
"Natalia." James reached for her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You're the only one who can."
She spoke the language. She knew the words. And if necessary, she could take him down. It was logical, the perfect controlled environment, but her gut still churned at the thought. With James looking at her hopefully and Shuri's soft "Please?", though, she agreed.
With tense shoulders, she followed the princess into an empty room where only she and James remained. At his nod, she began.
Each word felt like poison on her tongue, twisting her gut, and she watched the furrow in James's brow deepen and his fingers twitch. When she echoed the last one, muscles tense and prepared to defend herself, she was only met with silence. James's breathing was heavy and his eyes were cast downward, but he did not say a word.
"James?" she whispered.
His eyes flickered up to hers―distressed but clear―and she let out a shuttering gasp of relief. Tears pricked at her eyes and she covered her mouth to stifle a sob. James was at her side in a flash, his arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders and his nose buried deep in her hair.
"I'm so proud of you," she whispered, her voice thick with tears that she fought to keep at bay.
He pressed kiss after kiss to her hair, clinging to her even though nothing attempted to separate them and the princess did not intrude.
"I love you," he murmured.
And when he tilted her chin up, tears of joy dotting both of their cheeks, she couldn't help but drag his lips down to hers in an echo of his own words.