Eyes of Fire | Bucky Barnes

72

"Kuba ndifuna uncedo lwakho. Ndifuna ubakhusele abantwana njengakuqala." (Because I need your help. I need you to protect the children, just as you have before.) T'Challa summarized effortlessly, gesturing behind him towards where the heart of the country bustled. "Siza kulwa nesidalwa kwakhona, kwaye ilizwe lam ndilifuna kwizandla ezikhuselekileyo. Oko kuquka nawe." (We will battle with the creature again, and I need my country in safe hands. That includes you.)

Uxolo heaved a heavy breath, "Awunako ukundicela ukuba ndenze loo nto, mhlekazi." (You cannot ask me to do that sir.)

It'd been difficult to stick up to the King in this way, rebel against such a logical and clear request. It'd be smart of her to protect the children again, let the experienced warriors take on the worst of the creatures and hold the front line.

But no part of her was logical or smart, not right now. And King T'Challa, well, he replied as if he'd been expecting it.

"And why is that?"

Uxolo had been preparing this speech for a long time, had been drowning in these feelings and thoughts for longer. And yet as she opened her mouth, shifting slightly as she was reminded yet again of Bucky's presence behind her, all of it flew out of the window.

Instead, she spoke from the heart.

"Kwiminyaka emihlanu eyadlulayo ndaphulukana nayo yonke into.....  Andizange ndiphumle." (Five years ago I lost everything..... I have not been able to rest, since.) Uxolo didn't need to specify to T'Challa, or Shuri or Okoye, what she'd exactly lost in the Battle of Wakanda. "Ndasebenza nzima, yaye ndakhunjuzwa indlela endandibuthathaka ngayo." (I worked tirelessly, only to be reminded of how powerless I am.)

Uxolo hoped she looked as confident as she believed she sounded, hoped she conjured the warrior persona she'd been curating since that day. "Andikwazi ukuma ndibukele yonke into isenzeka kwakhona. Ndiyala." (I cannot stand on the sidelines and watch it all happen again. I refuse.)

"What are you asking from me, Uxolo?"

Uxolo found it incredibly easy, too easy, to say. She figured that was a common pattern with inexperienced war volunteers. "Ndifuna ukulwa, kumkani wam." (I want to fight, my King.)

"Emva koko niya kulwa." (Then you will fight.)

She had a feeling the King wouldn't have minded her presence in the throne room, especially now that she'd further committed herself to the physical fight, but she nonetheless dismissed herself with a deep bow of her head. She had something to do.

She didn't need to look behind her to know that Bucky followed after her almost immediately, ignoring the wavering gaze of Sam and his fellow avengers.

Uxolo got as far from the throne room as she could before she slowed her pace, wandering down one of the neglected halls of the citadel. If she listened closely, she could hear the hustle and bustle of some of the technicians in the older basement labs, but she was preoccupied with the footsteps behind her.

She knew they belonged to him—she could pick his walk out of a line-up.

If she could listen closely enough, she was sure she could even pick out his heartbeat from everyone else's in the building. Her ear had been pressed against his chest so often it had become welcomed music at the end of a long day.

The shadow of his frame dwarfed her the nearer he came; he closed the gap slowly, as if fearful of spooking her—not until he tugged her, pulling her close.

Bucky had neglected gloves today—he hadn't even thought to put them back on. Without looking, she reached out and cradled the cooled metal.

All at once, everything clicked into place, and she collapsed against him.