#&. SOMEONE STOLE THAT SILK FROM HER SOUL AND TURNED HER INTO THIS ( drabble. ) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ladyshandioftheendless · 5 years

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Shandi’s KISSteria drabbles 10!

Lol I hate myself for thinking of this. This is the last part of the Golden Dancer series. At least for now~

~Shandi

Demon must cope with a pain he never thought he’d experience. The pain of loss.

TEARFUL DEPARTURE

Vinneketh could see the anxiety practically radiating from his lover. He crawled onto the bed behind Demon’s hunched over form and began to rub his shoulders. “I wish you would talk to me, darling..” he said, resting his chin on his lover’s head. “I cannot help you if you cannot be open with me.” Demon just heaved a heavy sigh. As nice as the massage felt it did nothing to ease his tensions. “I do..need to speak to you..” His voice was barely audible. “..it’s just so difficult..” He purred quietly as the dancer pressed kisses to his temple. “Whatever it is…you can tell me. We promised no secrets, remember?” He nodded. Even without psychic abilities he found it extremely difficult to keep anything from his Treasure. He held Vinneketh close and took a deep breath. “The night we argued..I went to StarChild for consolation. He..has expressed interest in going to Earth to live among the humans..creating their music. He wants to go soon..and he’s asked me to come along with him..” His lover’s silence only made his anxiety escalate. Not that it improved any when he finally spoke again.

“You..are leaving KISSteria..? Leaving me..?”

Demon squeezed his eyes shut. Those words stung so much they shook him to his core. He held his lover tightly and kissed him. “If I had any other choice I would never..but StarChild and I share a bond of blood. He is my summoner. I am sworn to protect him. Vinneketh nodded slowly. He understood such bonds very well. Still..it didn’t make this hurt any less. “Can I not go with you..?” Demon shook his head. “We have no idea what this ‘Earth’ will be like. I would be crazy to allow you to risk yourself as well. I refuse to lose you, my Treasure. You are my dearest love..my soulmate. Part of me will always remain with you.”

“PART OF YOU?! DEMON, I WANT ALL OF YOU!!”

Vinneketh clung to Demon’s shoulders, shaking and sobbing loudly. “I beg you..please..!! Reconsider..!!” His beloved kissed him once more, gently stroking his hair. “Marry me, Vinneketh..say you’ll belong to me.” He pulled back slightly with a soft gasp. Did he..hear that right? “Wh-what did you say..?” Demon held his face, wiping his tears away with his thumbs. “I said..marry me.” The dancer broke down again, this time shedding tears of happiness. “Yes, Demon..yes I will marry you, my beloved..!”

Demon agreed to his lover’s wishes to be wed in Sphynxia. With the Elder’s blessing they were allowed to use KISSteria’s Star Portal to transport themselves there. Nothing made Vinneketh happier than being home again after being away for so long. He took Demon’s hand and led him towards the Palace. “I must introduce you to the Master~” When they entered Demon could clearly see what influenced Vinneketh’s bathchamber decor. Nearly everything was drenched in gold and made from beautiful white marble. The strong scent of incense made his nose twitch. He much preferred the gentle scents of the oils his lover enjoyed. “Master~!!” Demon watched as the dancer ran to a man dressed in regal white robes with long flowing sleeves that resembled a bird’s wings. He smiled and held his arms open. “My dear Vinneketh. I am pleased to see you looking so well~ We have missed you here.” They held each other in a tight embrace. “Master..you know I could never stay away. Come..I want you to meet someone~” Demon stiffened. The man’s eyes seemed to be judging him already. “Beloved..this is my Master Radames Fertari~ Master..this is Demon, the man I wish to be wed to~” Radames narrowed his eyes. “So I see. This is the one who stole your heart, hm?” Vinneketh beamed. “Indeed he is~ Master..I would be honored if you gave us your blessing~” Radames crossed his hands over his heart. “It gives me such joy to look upon you now. The brightness in your smile is truly a gift from Ra himself~ If you will permit me, I will perform the marriage rites~” The dancer hugged his Master once more, making the cutest happy noises Demon had ever heard. “Yes, Master I would love that so much~!”

While Radames prepared the Ceremonial Temple, Demon sat and watched him. To say he was nervous was the understatement of the millennium. His hands were shaking. He was sweating. His heart was racing. Still, he had no regrets. Vinneketh was the one he wanted to spend eternity with. “Everything is in readiness.” he heard Radames say. “All that is left is..to.. ….” Demon turned in the direction the Master was staring, only to be struck into silent awe himself. Vinneketh stood there looking as radiant as the sun, dressed in glittering golden robes with a train that trailed at least 5 feet behind him. No sleeves of course. It was much too hot for sleeves anyway. Instead golden coils shaped like snakes were wrapped around the length of his arms. The black silk sash that Demon had given to him was wrapped around his waist, held together with a gold brooch in the shape on an ankh. A golden circlet wrapped around his head crowned with the figure of a kneeling winged woman with her arms stretched out and a sun disk atop her head. “That..is the circlet of Isis I gave you as a birthday gift. Look at you..the very image of the Gods’ perfection~” Radames said, finally finding the will to speak. The dancer smiled and nodded. “Thank you so much, Master. I had been saving it for this day~” Demon was frozen in place. He had never seen anything so beautiful in his entire existence..and they were about to be married. “I am..so unworthy..” he whispered to himself.

“We are gathered here to join these two in the sacred bond of marriage. On this day, Demon and Vinneketh have chosen to live out the rest of their lives together in the holy union of heart and soul.” Radames took a small gold chest from the altar behind him, opening it to reveal a pair of rings. One made of gold and one made of obsidian. “Take these rings, my children..and speak your vows~” Vinneketh smiled, taking the gold ring and sliding it onto Demon’s finger.

“My Demon..my dearest love~ I never dreamed I would find such a deep spiritual connection with anyone. With the placement of this ring I give myself to you, my beloved. In the presence of my Gods I give you my solemn vow that I will remain by your side for as long as breath remains in me~”

Demon purred softly, admiring his ring briefly before taking the obsidian ring and placing it on Vinneketh’s finger.

“You, Vinneketh..are my most precious golden treasure. You have taught me how to love with my whole heart and you have given my life true purpose. With this ring, I vow to you that my loyalty to you will never waver. My love for you will never be destroyed. I am yours until you no longer wish to have me.”

Radames smiled as they gazed deeply into each other’s eyes. “Then, my children..with the power vested in me by our Gods, I bless you with the gift of being wed. You may kiss~” With their fingers laced together Demon and Vinneketh shared their first kiss as husbands.

They spent the next two months in Sphynxia basking in their wedded bliss. But their happiness seemed all too short lived when Demon received a letter from KISSteria. He crushed the paper tightly in his hand. “My love..StarChild is requesting my return. I believe he..wishes to leave for Earth any time now.” Vinneketh sighed. “I have dreaded this day..and now it has finally come. He went to his husband and wrapped his arms around his waist, pressing his cheek against his back. “I suppose..we must return..” Demon nodded. “I will have to use my power to transport us back. Hold onto me tightly.” In a blinding blaze of fire they vanished, reappearing in Demon’s chambers on KISSteria. They went to the Main Hall where StarChild waited with SpaceMan and CatMan. “There you are, Demon! I’m happy my letter reached you. Are you ready to go?” Demon blinked. He wasn’t expecting to have to leave as soon as he returned. Vinneketh frowned and squeezed his husband’s hand tightly. “I..suppose I am. Let’s get to the Portal.”

As they all stood in front of the Star Portal, Vinneketh couldn’t stop himself from crying. Demon held him close and nuzzled his sweet smelling hair. “I promise you, my love..I will return. Until then I will find a way to stay in contact with you. I told you when we wed…you will never lose me.” The dancer nodded, kissing his husband one last time. “Please..be safe, my darling..part of my heart goes with you.”

Watching them enter the portal, Vinneketh made a promise to himself that he would see his beloved Demon again. Even if he had to brave the perils of Earth to do it.

~END~

#Shandi's drabbles #Shandi's KISSteriaverse #Demon x Ankh Warrior #WHY DO I KEEP HURTING MYSELF LIKE THIS #I wanna reiterate this is NOT a breakup #Golden Dancer

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dramaqueeenamby · 6 years

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Family Counseling (11)

Family Counseling (11) - Drabble

MASTERLIST

A/N: Back with another update bisshesssssss. Lmfaooo. We’re getting into the heart of the story now. I took a few liberties in terms of mutant genetics and Wakandan technology, so if something seems a little too unrealistic...I apologize, but that’s just my creative juices doing too much.

I was in class the other day totally not paying attention and worked out the last few kinks of this story so I now know exactly how this plays out! Get ready! If you don’t know comics or mutants, then you will have absolutely no idea where I’m going and that’s great. And if you do, then you might have a slight idea, but you probably still don’t know. so that’s great too. ;)

No outfit for this one because....yeah, there just isn’t. lmfaooo

Words: 5987

TAGLIST: @onyour-right @hutchj @janellemonaenae @dreamer7black @ruminationsofaraven @myrikal324 @geminis2ndface @groovybbyyy @iamimanim @parris-symone

T’Challa had prepared his entire life to be king, to be the Black Panther. The positions were bestowed upon him before he had a chance to register what that truly meant, but he’d never questioned it because he’d always considered it an honor and his duty.

He knew that it would be challenging, but he’d never been one to cower away from difficulty. However, one aspect of adulthood that he never factored in was marriage.

He knew he’d eventually marry, sure, but it was always in the back of his mind and never seemed like a pressing issue that needed to be addressed.

Then came Amara.

And suddenly, he was not only a king and a warrior, but a husband, and in a few months, a father.

And at times, though he’d soon rather join the ancestors than admit it, it was overwhelming.

When he was in council meetings, he’d rather be in the lab with his sister, assisting her with improvements for his suit.

When he was on missions, he’d rather be with his mother, reflecting on pleasant times from his upbringing.

Bast, there were even a couple of occasions where he thought about spending time with his cousin, trying to form a better relationship with him.

And there was no second of the day where T’Challa did not want to be with his expecting wife. Her smile, her disposition, her aura, her intelligence. There was not a damn thing he did not love about that woman.

So when he woke up at his usual time, 5am, prepared to start fulfilling his kingly duties, and decided to take the day off, he almost felt ashamed.

Even questioned whether he would be reprimanded.

Then coyly thought to himself,

“And who should they report me to? The king?”

He turned to look down at his sleeping wife, his index finger tracing the outline of her features. The impending dawn reflecting off the glow of her deep complexion, her eyes soft, her mouth softly ajar, her soft snores the only sound filling their chambers.

There were times, more than he liked to admit where he would awake in the middle of the night just to watch her sleep. Sometimes to ensure that she and the children were okay, his heightened senses allowing him to hear not only her heartbeat but theirs as well. Other times were for selfish reasons.

He just wanted to look upon her.

Gazing at her allowed him to reflect on all the events that transpired that brought them to where they were.

He didn’t deserve her. She would never say it, but he believed that there was a small part of her, the not so forgiving part that believed it too.

And he didn’t blame her. He’d put her through so much, done so much to her, that he still wondered just what in the hell possessed her to give him another chance.

Granted, if someone were to ask him could he envisage himself without anyone other than her, the answer would be no every time.

And that was a fact.

The night that he took her virginity was both his biggest regret and yet his greatest blessing. He’d spent the weeks before that fateful evening trying to prepare himself for what would happen when he saw her. T’Challa was no fool. Her body was truly the least of the changes that made their friendship even more complicated. Her pattern of thinking, the way that she conducted herself. She’d always been mature for her age, but he truly no longer saw herself as his dear friend, almost like a sister.

He saw her as more than that.

And he knew the feeling was mutual. For quite some time. And the fact that he and Nakia had broken things off week before her birthday only complicated things even more.

Nakia.

She was his failsafe.

For years, it was always her. She was the only one that he had a romantic interest in and rightfully so. The woman was absolutely stunning, came from a royal tribe, and their union had practically been arranged from birth. It was more or less set in stone.

But, no one accounted for Amara being thrown into the equation. She and Nakia never got along, but T’Challa never saw it as a major issue as the two never really allowed their dislike for each other to show (too much) when it was the three of them.

Then again, he did his best to keep his relationship with Nakia and his friendship with Amara separate.

But as the three got older and feelings starting to change, that became difficult.

Fast forward to Amara’s 17th birthday, he wasn’t expecting her to profess her love for him. He certainly wasn’t expecting her to offer him her body. And he damn sure wasn’t expecting to willingly accept her as he did.

She was a child. They were friends. She was naive. He was too experienced for her. He would only hurt her. Despite all of the voices in the back of his head screaming at him to stop, he could not cease the insurmountable desire that was his heart because, despite his greatest efforts to deny her, he wanted her just as much as she wanted him.

She was not wrong when she said that she had his soul, but she also had much more than that.

It was in the middle of the night, hours after he had taken away her innocence, marked her as his, her exhausted body laid out on top of his, he realized a second truth to her words.

She had his heart.

And it was for that reason that he left shortly after that.

Not because he wanted to.

Bast, did he want to stay. He could have remained there in that bed with her for eternity, her aura enticing, something about being in her presence giving T’Challa a calm that made him never want to leave her.

But that was precisely why he had to. Because he knew that nothing could come out of it, come out of them. His father had made his feelings about quite clear over the years.

King T’Chaka was quite fine with their friendship because of his own with Hodari, but anything beyond companionship would never settle well with the ruler of Wakanda.

Always implicit, never outright. A “poor child,” here and there, references to her maybe “returning to her country one day,” and even a “marrying her kind would be her best bet.”

T’Challa could only imagine how his father would react to just the suggestion of him even courting her. It would not end up nice, to say the least. He could not do that to her, no matter how badly he realized that it was her that he wanted to be with and not Nakia. He car- N, he loved her too much to put her through such pain.

She would only end up hurt in the end.

So, he left.

He was broken from his thoughts when she shifted in her sleep, craning her neck upwards and then sideways, breathing deeply, before returning to her normal sleeping pattern.

He cracked a small smile.

He truly missed her while he was away. His hand then went under the blanket to rest on her stomach. He’d especially missed them. He was determined to be a good father, a great father, and not just once they were born. He felt as though he’d been absent far too much during her pregnancy.

For instance, she’d gotten up three times in the middle of the night and on the second disturbance, he’d asked her what was wrong.

She looked at him with a scowl and rubbed at her headscarf. “Ask your children who seem to love taking turns sitting on my bladder.”

He hadn’t even realized she was at that point where frequent urination was a problem.

Or how when she walked back into the room, clad in only a thin camisole shirt and underwear, he noticed just how large her breast had grown and how wide her hips had spread.

Not that he minded the bodily changes.

But T’Challa decided to try and make his presence more prevalent. He was tired of missing out on the memorable moments.

He decided to stay in bed for another two hours before showering and such and having breakfast delivered to their bedroom as he knew his wife would be waking up soon enough.

He was in his closet when he heard her get up, sending out messages to alert of his taking the day off, purposely not wanting her to know of his still being in the room.

As soon as he heard her enter the bathroom and the door shoot, he exited out and waited for the food to arrive.

The slight perfectionist even timed it so that he could retrieve their meal almost seconds before she finished washing up.

“T’Challa?” He turned around after placing the tray in the middle of their bed to see her with a confused expression and a silver, silk robe wrapped around her pregnant frame. “What are you doing here?” He watched her eyes trail up and down his shirtless frame. “And why are you not dressed?”

He chuckled and walked up to her. “Good morning love.”

She continued to stare up at him in bewilderment even as he stole the softest of kisses. “Good morning.” A beat. “What are you doing here?”

He dropped his head and brought his hand to the back of her neck. “I took the day off.”

Her mouth dropped. “You-I-Can you do that?”

“Mmmmm.” He brought his mouth down to her jaw, smirking when he felt her smile against his face.

“What will the council say?”

He straightened and faked a confused expression. “I am not sure.” She frowned as he suddenly smirked with a mischievous gleam. “Perhaps they should discuss such a matter with the king.”

“T’Challa!” She giggled and playfully slapped his chest before flattening her palms against his defined pectoral muscles. “So does this mean I have you all to myself today?”

His groin contracted just from her delivery as his hands snaked their way down her sides. “It wo-“

“Brother!” Shuri’s voice and knocking interrupted the moment as Amara furrowed her brows and looked toward the door with a frown.

“Ignore her.” He immediately instructed, earning a disapproving glance from his wife. “What?”

“We cannot just-“

“I know you are up! I saw that your Kimoyo bracelet was active less than ten minutes ago!” She said with a huff. “Are you sick? Is that why you took the day off? Is that what it is?”

“Sick of your ass.” The husband and wife frowned at the sound of Erik’s voice. What was he doing out there?

“For the love of Bast,” T’Challa threw his hands up. “Why do we even have guards stationed outside our door?”

“Shuri probably sent them off.” Amara suggested softly, grabbing onto her husband’s arm.

“I told you, princess,” Erik spoke out again. “He’s in there. She’s in there. He been gone for almost a whole week. They’ve been fighting. I know you’re young, but you can’t be that naive.”

Silence.

“That’s disgusting! He’s my brother!”

Amara rested her head against her husband’s chest as Erik and Shuri started to argue outside of their door she and attempted to start banging her forehead when her belly got in the way. However, a pain coming from her stomach interrupted her and caused her to wince, catching T’Challa’s attention.

“What’s wrong?”

She shook her head and frowned. “I don’t know.” She looked down and started to untie her robe. “It was strange.” The belt fell at her side and she started to lift up her shirt. “It almost felt like a bruise.”

T’Challa mirrored her frown and looked down before his frown was replaced with a look of utter shock and anger.

“T….” She looked down but could not really see the area of her stomach where the pain came from. “What is it?”

“You were being truthful when you said that Zanda never touched you, correct?”

Her frown deepened. “Of course….why do you ask?”

He grabbed her hand. “Come with me.”

As he dragged her to the bathroom, her heartbeat grew erratic. She just wanted to know what it was that he was seeing. Finally, he forced her to stand close in front of the full body mirror.

“Look.” His hand pointed to the spot as her eyes squinted and then widened.

“Bast…” She grazed the black and blue bruise that adorned her belly, but it wasn’t the fact that her stomach, the place that currently housed their children, was marred by a bruise that shocked her.

It was the fact that the bruise resembled that of a child’s footprint.

A baby’s footprint.

+++++++++

“For the love of Bast,” T’Challa muttered as he walked toward the window that overlooked the bustling city. “Are they always this slow?”

Amara sighed as she sat up on the bed, her hand absentmindedly resting on her stomach as she leaned against the wall and stared at the closed door. “Not since the last time you asked, love.”

He looked over at her and dropped his shoulders. He could see the apprehension that she was doing her best to disguise and realized that his incessant complaining about the wait time was of little help.

“I apologize.” He walked over to her, placing a kiss on her temple as she looked at him out the corner of her eyes. “I just-“

“Everything will be fine, T’Challa.” She affirmed with a small smile that did not meet her eyes.

“This….” His mouth fell into a small frown while fingers lightly grazed over her belly. “Is not fine…”

She mirrored his frown and said nothing for a few seconds before opening her mouth. “I-“

A knock on the door interrupted the moment and a woman that the King had never seen before walked in. Instinctively, the king stood in front of his wife, his forearm going in front of her in a defensive move.

“My king.” The woman forced herself to withhold her eye roll as she bowed. “We have not had the honor of meeting yet.”

“Love.” Amara grabbed his arm, forcing him to look back at her. “This is Zawadi. She is the specialty doctor that is overseeing my pregnancy.”

T’Challa’s eyebrows furrowed. “Specialty?”

“Mutant Specialty,” Zawadi supplied with a small smile as she hit a button and closed the door behind her. “Wakanda is well ahead of the world in many things, but it takes a special type of doctor to treat a case as…..particular as the Queen’s.”

That time, it was Amara whose eyebrows furrowed as T’Challa stepped aside so the two could both gaze upon the doctor. “I do not follow.”

“My queen, did you have any stressful experiences yesterday?”

Amara paused. “I’m sorry.”

“Any encounters that might have left you feeling sad, angry, frustrated? Even more, verbal altercations that happened in person. I do not need specifics, but it is important that you are honest.”

The queen diverted her eyes as she recalled her encounter with Princess Zanda. “There…there was one, but-“

“And did you and the king engage in sexual intercourse at some point last night?”

Her face reddened as she shifted on the bed. “Yes.”

“And it is true that your eyes white over when you use your powers, correct?”

T’Challa interjected. “Dr., where are you going with this?”

She turned her eyes over to the king. “Please, you must trust me. You would know, did the queen’s eyes change last night?”

Amara face was inflamed as she was flustered by the intimate nature of the conversation transpiring. She was expecting T’Challa to falter, to further press the Dr. on her questioning. Instead, he answered without hesitation.

“No.” A beat. “Now, again, what does this have to do with-“

The woman with neatly and freshly redone lots walked to the middle of the room and pressed onto her kimoyo beads, allowing for screens to fill the room, each displaying charts in sets of quads.

She said nothing as Amara looked around in confusion. Wakanda’s technology still confused her at times, but T’Challa, being the ever so intelligent man that he was, stepped closer, interacting with the charts and analyzing them with eyes of bewilderment.

Finally, he spoke. “What is this?”

Dr. Zawadi shook her head. “They are a collection of data and reading that I have been collecting since the queen was attacked in California.”

“Could someone please explain to me what is going on?” Amara started to raise her voice, annoyed with the fact that she, the main one who deserved to know, was in the dark.

T’Challa and Dr. Zawadi turned to look at her with perplexed expressions before the woman spoke first.

“This,” The doctor pointed to one set of readings. “Is yours and the prince’s readings from the night of your attack.” She dragged another set. “This is the prince’s vitals compared to the king’s.” Finally, another set. “And these are the readings that we took this morning when you came in my queen, at three separate times.” A beat. “Notice anything?”

Amara didn’t take long. She didn’t have to.

She shook her head. “That can’t be right….they’re almost identical.”

“Precisely.” Dr. Zawadi. “I cannot say for 100%, but it appears as though that the prince has inherited the king’s abilities.”

“You mean he has the powers of the Black Panther?” Amara repeated in shock as she looked up at an equally surprised T’Challa.

The doctor nodded. “I believe so. On a lesser level, of course, or else that bruise he left on you would have been less of a bruise and more of a, well, I do not think I need to elaborate.”

“How is that even possible?” T’Challa questioned. “One must eat the heart-shaped herb to acquire the powers of the Panther.”

“Genetics are tricky, my king.” She sighed. “And, to be completely honest, we have never had the Black Panther to mate with a mutant. It is…still a mystery to us. But, there is more.”

“What?” Amara pressed.

“The charts correlating to you.” The doctor paused to formulate her thoughts. “They have to do with your emotions, your sentiments, and while it is normal for a child to closely resemble his mother’s feelings. The prince’s read not as a resemblance, but as a reaction. And with the timing of your bruise, I would assume he began to kick you around the time of your encounter. You probably did not realize it as you were too-“

“Dr….what are you trying to say?”

She cracked a wry smile. “I think the prince is also a mutant. An Empath.”

“An Empath?” T’Challa echoed. “You mean he can sense emotion?”

“Empaths are so much more than that, my king. They can manipulate emotions as well as control the emotions of other individuals. Sometimes groups of individuals.” She looked down and started typing away. “It would be better if we had more information from the maternal grandmother-“

“I told you,” Amara cut her off in a small voice. “My mother….she was not like me.”

“No, she, like the Prince, was an Empath.” The doctor confirmed and elaborated when she received strange looks from the King and Queen. “While it is true that we still have much to learn about mutations, what we have learned about Empaths, in particular, is that 99.9% of the time, they occur in every nth. Your father is not a mutant, you are not an Empath, and the king has no known mutations in his bloodline, that leaves only your mother.”

Amara grew quiet. She had no reason to doubt the doctor. Her mother was a mutant? Why hadn’t she shared that with her? Did she know? She must have. How could she not have? These were the moments where she wished nothing more than to have just five minutes with the woman who birthed her.

“However, the prince is actually not the one who concerns me.” The doctor spoke up again with a strange expression. “It’s the princess.”

T’Challa’s shoulders tensed. “What?”

“She is healthy. They both are.”

“Then what is the problem?” He demanded as his wife placed a calming hand on his back.

“I believe that she too has the same mutation as the queen.” Dr. Zawadi exhaled deeply. “However, and even I am I still trying to wrap my head around this….the results indicate that her powers are completely autonomous.”

Amara grimaced as she and T’Challa shared a look. “What?”

“With the prince, he is an empath so he reacts based on your emotions, correct? It is his doing, but it still correlates with your feelings.”

“Yes.” T’Challa nodded.

“With the princess, her gifts, much like the queen’s, are directly tied to her emotions. Well, the queen’s brain is fully developed, emotional components as well. The same cannot be said for the princess. The queen has learned to control it, but the princess has not and she cannot. Not while still in the womb.”

“But she has not-“

“The earthquakes.” The doctor interjected with a bold face, flashing up images from centuries ago. “Wakanda has not had an earthquake in over centuries. The queen falls pregnant and in a two-month time span, we have had five.”

“Five?” Amara eyes widened as T’Challa looked over at her with curiosity. “I know of…one.” She tried to ignore the bashfulness she was feeling at what brought up that one. “But the other four?”

“All occurred in the past week, with one happening last night.” The doctor informed as T’Challa proceeded to look through the data as Amara mulled over the past week.

She’d been sad, yes, even had a few crying spells, maybe more than a few, but she hadn’t allowed herself to use her powers. Even then, earthquakes weren’t here M.O.

“And with all due respect, my queen.” The medical profession brought her voice down to a low tone. “Look at how your mutation manifested.”

Amara froze at that.

She too caused an earthquake.

“How is it that they are able to do all of this while still in the womb?” T’Challa question, a fierce look on his face. The shock of all this information a tough pill to swallow, even for him.

“With all due respect your majesties, when the Black Panther marries an omega level mutant and has not one, but two children at the same time, it is fair to expect that product will be power.” A beat. “Granted, we just never expected them to be this powerful, this soon.”

“So what should we do?” Amara finally asked while rubbing her stomach.

She exhaled. “Truthfully? It is imperative that you avoid stressful situations at all costs,” she turned to T’Challa. “And you, my king, must do the same. The queen, not even for herself, must be in constant reminder that she carries two powerful mutants who have unrefined access to their powers which are dictated by their emotions, and their emotions are influenced by hers. If she is in distress, they will feel it. If she is upset, they will sense it, If she is in pain, they will share it. What she feels, they feel, and they will act out on it. The prince, at the most, will leave her bruised, nothing too serious. But the princess, because we cannot contain or control her, is the wild card that we do not want to provoke. So, it is best to spare her for the next 5 to 4 mouths from as much stress as possible.”

T’Challa was listening to everything the woman said, but at the same time, all he could think about was how in the hell he was going to handle the Hodari situation. For sure, he couldn’t tell her about her father’s secret activities now.

Things just got even more complicated.

“Now that is not to say that the queen should be cocooned.” She turned her attention back to Amara. “You should carry on just as you were, just try to avoid strenuous activities and not allow yourself to be put in potentially mentally draining situations.” A beat. “And cease sexual activities until after the twins are born.”

His ears perked up at that last tidbit as he looked down to see his wife had pretty much tuned the doctor out, her eyes and mind somewhere else.

“Give us a moment,” T’Challa spoke lowly as the doctor made her exit without protest; she could see the queen needed some time to process everything. He watched his wife, the slump of her shoulders, the way that she gripped the edges of her bed, her eyes cloudy not with white, but with white. “Love…”

“I-I never meant for this to happen.” She whispered.

He reached out and grabbed the back of her neck. “For what are you apologizing?”

He continued to stare at her, but she refused to look at him. “I knew that there was a chance, but I…I did not realize the extent of their powers would be this severe…”

“Severe? This is not a curse, Amara.”

She scoffed bitterly. “I believe that the council would beg to differ.” His stomach dropped when she finally looked at him, her eyes glossy with tears that were threatening to fall. “They already view me as a liability. What will they say when they learn of th-“

A sudden burst of anger shot through him as he brought his hand to her chin and forced her to meet his fierce gaze. “Our children are none of their concern. The only thing that they need to know, the only thing that anyone needs to know is that they are healthy.”

She eyed him skeptically. “You don’t think that we should tell them?”

“No. For what? To have them question you as if you somehow planned this? I will not stand for it.” He affirmed and moved his hands to gently rub up and down her arms. “You heard the doctor. The rest of your pregnancy must be as stress-free as possible.”

She nodded quietly and looked up at him through hooded eyes. “So you are not upset?”

He withheld a grin and helped her stand up, his hands going to her hips. “It is is a lot to take in and will take time to process.” He cupped one side of her face as she grabbed his wrist and shut her eyes. “But you are almost six months, so three months shall pass before we even realize it.”

Her eyes opened in confusion. “What?” A sly smile fell on his face as her cheeks flushed. “That was not what I-“ She lightly pushed on his chest. “You are awful.”

Most people knew his wife to be the voice of reason, the one who brought people to their senses, himself included, but there were times, although rare, where she had her moments of vulnerability. Times where she needed the be on the receiving end of comfort and he would always be there for her. As long as he had breath in his body, he would see to it that she never felt as though she was alone

“My love,” his smile dropped as he brought his lips to hers, letting his forehead connect with hers. “We will get through this together.”

She smiled, her first genuine one since the doctor informed them of the startling development and nodded, burying herself in his chest.

“I love you.”

+++++++++

Erik grunted as T’Challa knocked him to the ground for the second time in less than two minutes.

“Something on your mind, cuz?” Erik muttered sarcastically as he jumped to his feet automatically going into a defensive stance.

T’Challa was broken out of his intense thoughts by his cousins' question. “What?”

Erik took advantage of the distraction and swiped the king by his ankles, knocking the darker complexioned man on his back. Erik went to pounce on top of him, but T’Challa moved out of the way as the two started to exchange punches.

Of course, neither was successful in landing a blow as both were equally talented in combat. T’Challa, being lesser aggressive of the two, using his enhanced abilities, to push Erik off and a few feet away from him.

Erik, a lover of fighting in general, smiled while panting. “Rough night?”

T’Challa ignored his comment while noticing a small cut on his cousin’s cheek. “I apologize.”

Erik shrugged. “I almost forgot what it was like to be on the receiving end.” He caught the towel that the king threw his way and wrapped it around his neck, noticing the unusual quietness of the man.

T’Challa looked around the room and placed his hands on his hips. “Leave us.” The guards almost hesitated, clearly untrusting of Erik but obliged.

Erik gave his cousin a sly look. “You sure that was a smart decision?”

“What is the update with the Hatut Zeraze?” He questioned as he grabbed a shirt and pulled it over his head and the two headed toward the side of the training area that led to a hallway.

Erik chuckled. “Shit is gone. Burned to the ground.”

“Nothing remains?”

“Nothing in Narobia.”

T’Challa stopped and looked at his cousin with squinted eyes. “You think they have another location where they are manufacturing a cure?”

“I think they’d be crazy as hell not to.” Erik shrugged.

T’Challa paused. “I agree.” They reached the king’s office and Erik waited for T’Challa to let them in, closing the doors behind them before he spoke again.

“So what we finna do about it?”

“Us? Nothing.” T’Challa confirmed, taking a seat at his desk as he clasped his hands in front of him. “We don’t have to.”

Erik raised his eyebrow. “I’m listening.”

T’Challa leaned back in his chair. “Hodari was quite upset when he learned the plant had been burned down in a testing accident gone terribly wrong.”

“And if he’s as desperate as he appears to be for a cure, he will reach out to whoever else is manufacturing one.” Erik supplied.

“Perfect timing too considering I have just sent him on an assignment in America,” T’Challa said with faux innocence. “Speaking of, what have you found out?”

“First thing, did you know Hodari’s logs of all his assignments before Amara was born were are encrypted?”

T’Challa’s eyebrows furrowed. “What? Why did you not say anything before? I can just give you acc-“

“Naw. This is beyond even you. Whoever encoded this, meant for it to stay locked up. I can get in, it’s just taking me a minute.” Erik commented casually while playing with a set of Kimoyo beads.

T’Challa narrowed his eyes. “So you are hacking it?”

“You have your methods and I have mine.” Erik chuckled.

T’Challa was about to say something when he remembered something. “MIT, correct?”

Erik paused. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

He leaned forward and winked. “The tour guide was real….welcoming.”

T’Challa shut his eyes. “Shuri has expressed interest in possibly attending school there. Would you recommend it?”

He crossed his arms and shook his head. “Naw.” T’Challa raised his brow. “Not much she don’t already know.”

“I agree, but she is stubborn.”

“I guess it runs in the family,” Erik muttered while typing away and before T’Challa could comment on that, he quickly changed the subject. “Have you spoken to Amara about her father?”

“No, there’s…there’s been a slight change in plans regarding that.” He was cut off when the Kimoyo beads on his wrist started to vibrate and as he looked down, he saw that it was his wife. He answered without hesitation.

“Are you alright?”

She rolled her eyes, her hand covering her eyes to shield her face from the sliding heat as she was outside. “Hello to you too.”

He ignored her. “You did not answer my question.”

“I am fine, T’Challa. I called to see how you two are doing.” She trailed off, unsure as to whether or not Erik was nearby. “

“Don’t worry queenie, I haven’t hurt ya boy…yet.” Erik sounded from his seat but his eyes focused on the programming that he was working on.

T’Challa rolled his eyes when he heard arguing in the distance and zoned in on the voices. “Is that Shuri?”

Amara smiled almost bashfully. “It is.”

Instantly, his protective side kicked in. “Who is that speaking to her in such a tone of voice?”

“Relax, my love.” She giggled softly. “It is D’Kar. M’Baku’s younger brother, and it’s harmless. Truly. I think that they like each other, actually.”

“In what way?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Oh, stop it. D’Kar is eighteen. Shuri will be turning seventeen in just two months. You must’ve known that it would happen sooner or later.”

Unfortunately, the only frame of reference T’Challa could think about was his wife and what had happened to her when she turned seventeen.

Sex.

And Bast be damned if he let any man lay a finger on his sister.

He suddenly regretted agreeing to allow her to accompany Amara on her visit to see M’Baku’s wife in discussing which mutant children from the Jabari Tribe to attend her school.

“Nothing will happen before I meet this boy.” He stated with a boldness.

His wife’s face lit up. “You are absolutely correct.” A beat. “I shall invite them to dinner.”

T’Challa’s face dropped. “That is n-“

“Thank you for the suggestion, love.” She spoke quickly. “I shall call you a bit later.” With that, she disconnected the call.

“Damnit.” He cursed. It wasn’t that he had anything against having M’Baku and his family over for dinner. It was M’Baku’s brother that he had an issue with. Or any other male that his sister might have had the slightest interest in or vice versa.

“T’Challa.” He looked up to see Erik with a surprisingly tense look on his face. “Look at this.” He hit a few buttons as the interactive screens filled the office. “I finally got in right? So men of Hodari’s position. How many of them are usually in an area? Like in a state?”

“At a time? One. No more than two.”

“That’s what I thought,” Erik said smugly. “Hodari was in Virginia on an off for two years around the time Amara was born when Wakanda already had two other agents positioned there.”

“What?” T’Challa questioned. “Let me see.” He observed the records for himself, only to see that Erik was correct. “That makes no sense.”

“But look at this.” Erik dragged another screen. “While he was there, he was in constant contact with a company by the name of Sublime Corporation. It’s American based.”

T’Challa snapped his head to look at his cousin. “He betrayed Wakanda?”

“No. He was just following orders.” Erik spoke with a certain darkness as he motioned to the bottom of the mission report. “Look who signed off on it.”

T’Challa’s eyes fell to the bottom as a certain heaviness floated into his chest. “My father….” T’Challa was doing a hell of a job with maintaining outward composure, but he was a confused mess on the inside. His father had ants working with American companies? How could a man who had always stressed his nation’s independence mingle with outside entities in secrecy? It made no sense yet the data was all there in front of him.

“That’s not even the fucked up part,” Erik spoke again. “This the shit right here.” He pointed to the last screen. “Do you know what Sublime was manufacturing at that time? HX-N1?”

“What is that?” T’Challa rubbed his temples. “An early version of the cure.”

“No.” Erik shook his head. “ It was a synthetically engineered influenza virus. For biological warfare.” A beat. “It wasn’t meant to cure mutants.”

“It was meant to kill them.”

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