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uzumaki-rebellion · 5 months

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"King Killmonger: The Golden Jaguar" Preview!

Summary:

N'Jadaka prepares to wed Yani, his influential Caribbean fiance, in the most anticipated social event across the land. The new King of Wakanda continues to make global changes on a level that T'Challa refused to do. The C.I.A.'s discovery of vibranium in the ocean brings on the re-emergence of Namor during a Mama Wati celebration. Wakanda's new battle with the Talokanil tests the Golden Jaguar’s resolve to transform his nation into the preeminent superpower on earth. He leans on Yani and Ramonda to reign in the serious infighting among the noble class while presenting Shuri with a life-altering choice: Take over the mantle of Black Panther in her brother's absence.

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“I will be one of the greatest That is a vow, yeah, that is a promise Always wanted to be famous Just being real, yeah, just being honest

My haters gon' always be nameless Give them no cloud, I give them no power

Creators built different, they ancient Sooner than later, all will be ours…”

Iniko—“The King’s Affirmation”

King N’Jadaka Udaku of the Panther Tribe from the kingdom of Wakanda sat at the head table for the Congressional Black Caucus’s newly minted Pan-African symposium/dinner inside of the National Museum of African American History and Culture. The event brought together Black leaders from all over the world that wanted to take part in shaping their future with the influence of Black American politicians after the great disaster of the Infinity War.

The king sipped from a glass of lemon water with his young Executive Assistant Mpilo by his side, very much aware of the eyes dragging across his intimidating figure in the midst of seventy-five world politicians of African descent with their various entourages. Hundreds of women and men allowed to participate in the momentous gathering chanced looking his way to assess what kind of man he was on this rare occasion that N’Jadaka came to Washington, D.C.

He grew accustomed to being the rare Black man of real power surrounded by other Black leaders that tried to balance governing in the face of American neo-imperialism. The people in that room would’ve given up their firstborn child just to be in his presence, especially the representatives from Sudan and Ethiopia. Thanos’s ridiculous plan to snap problems away only created more dire ones on earth and Africa suffered as a result. The rise of new warloads and the loss of faith in democracy sprouted far and wide. Slavery, coups, and genocide had ramped up. Troubled nations in the motherland looked to Wakanda and not the U.S. for leadership, and that made N’Jadaka’s stay in his former homeland dangerous. The C.I.A. had a bench warrant of death on his head. Western powers wanted the king of Wakanda eliminated.

The Golden Jaguar sighed and pressed his hands on his thighs and flexed his fingers to offset the ribbons of tension coursing through him. Despite it being an all Black affair, there were enemy ops in the conference hall among them. The Dora Milaje and his Onyx Squad remained visible and dispersed throughout the perimeter, their smart-looking uniforms marking them as superior protection among the American security hired to keep unwelcome outsiders from trying to sneak an audience with the Wakandan king.

This attempt at a heavily-publicized gathering of Black international elites became a way for powerless Black politicians in the U.S. to rival and possibly supplant N’Jadaka’s influential UDC creation that made waves in under a year. No matter what power-to-the-people slogans were used to get them in office, Black American politicians were still…politicians. No different than their white counterparts that only worried about getting re-elected and stuffing their pockets with money, connections, and a fat board member assignment or consultation position on some corporations dime after retirement. No matter the pithy declarations about supporting the Black community he heard all evening, there were wolves in the room seeking access to more power. The white American power structure lit a fire under the CBC’s ass to put together something that would convince diaspora Africans to join with them instead of the Wakandans. N’Jadaka knew what it was and decided to participate anyway. Just to let the CBC know he was watching them closely and feigning diplomacy. America was a weak and decaying order. The bored king found solace in knowing he would be its demise.

N’Jadaka tapped his hand on the fancy table cloth. Mpilo took note of his mood and quickly checked his comm tab for the expected time of arrival for Yani and the children. The trip abroad had lasted two weeks, most of it spent at the United Nations in Geneva, and meetings in New York, London, and South Africa. N’Jadaka cancelled a trip to Saudi Arabia when one of the crown princes of an oil billionaire insulted him on a viral vid. He made an example of them by snubbing a much-anticipated visit there. Any form of anti-Blackness anywhere was swiftly aired out. Mexico, Argentina, Spain, France, Italy, and the Dominican Republic were already smarting from his public call-out of their treatment of Black people due to an increase of racialized violence targeting poor Black citizens in their nations. With Yani’s urging and Ramonda’s powerful voice as an ambassador, there was a rallying call against global femcide in the wake of the disappearance of so many people.

The U.S. didn’t let the great loss of citizens stop their continuing encroachment of resources and they took advantage of pumping predatory capitalism along. What could’ve been a moment of self-reflection, a shift in priorities, and a new way of being for the country as a whole was simply an opportunity to prey on weaker nations even harder. Their only hindrance in achieving more power was the rise of Wakanda under N’Jadaka’s leadership. He instilled fear in every nation that wanted life to go on the same way, and he also gave hope to those parts that saw a chance at progressive changes aligning with Wakanda. The western powers still gasped at his U.N. speech criticizing colonial apartheid in Palestine and Gaza. The gasp turned into full-fledged choking when he charged genocide co-signed and funded by the Americans. Once he pontificated on the historical similarities between Gaza, South Africa, and the Black American segregation of his own people, his War Dogs got wind of Mossad operations trying to penetrate Wakandan intelligence through the C.I.A.

Back home, the continent was split.

African nations that had long been ignored and left to suffer on their own benefitted from supporting Wakanda. N’Jadaka flooded their lands with tech support, agricultural advances, doctors, and a quick rebuilding of infrastructures with his Wakandan Humanitarian Corps that embarrassed the U.S.. At N’Jadaka’s urging, Azania and Caanan had stopped selling uranium, colbalt, and platinum to anyone outside of Africa in exchange for advanced agricultural expansion. Mining had ruined and polluted their lands with run-off depleting usable soil and water. Rapid climate change didn’t help them either and the neighboring nations were on the verge of famine. Wakanda helped clean their water, soil, and air for free, allowing farmers to produce a bumper crop that saved millions from starvation. Those who had been malnourished received the best medical treatment, and once snatched from the brink of disaster, Azania and Caanan were staunch allies for good.

Niganda and Mohannda were a different story, currying favor from the CBC leaders and complaining to the U.S. president that Wakanda was a global threat to sovereignty. The other African nations galvanized by the freely given help, threw all of their allegiance to the Wakandans, thus leading other unaligned African nations to fear him creating a United States of Wakanda to rule them all.

It wasn’t a bad idea.

He never acknowledged those types of concerns and just let the rumors grow to keep his enemies on their toes. His own father N’Jobu had flirted with visions of a united continent under Wakandan rule in his journals. Currently, N’Jadaka scrambled to replace War Dogs lost to the blip in order to keep his finger on the pulse of other nations.

“Princess Yani will arrive within the next two hours. They have crossed onto the Atlantic,” Mpilo said.

N’Jadaka nodded. He gave Mpilo a full-time job as his personal assistant since the loss of his father in the snap. The king had no idea the young man suffered that loss until months after the memorial honoring the lost ones. Mpilo did his work professionally until Yani brought the news to his attention. She recognized Mpilo’s family name from one of the palace attendants sending personal condolences to their staff on her behalf. When N’Jadaka questioned him, Mpilo broke down in tears in the king’s office. His father and two oldest brothers had vanished leaving behind his mother and baby sister. Barely an adult, Mpilo now had the responsibility of looking out for his immediate family. N’Jadaka terminated his fellowship and gave him a permanent job title as his executive assistant.

The king let out a sigh of relief. He needed to be with his family again. Normally Yani would be with him, but she was on her own global tour promoting her book, “The Wakandan Way of Birth”. Their children traveled with her and he caught interview segments of her in three countries. The world was enamored with the exotic princess. It was her first appearance outside of Wakanda representing the nation. N’Jadaka grinned thinking about the reaction of the Caribbean. The entire region went nuts finding out officially that an island girl had snagged the most powerful man in the world.

She promoted the book in St. Thomas first, and he hated not being there with her. She traveled to Jamaica next to visit the land of her father and paid her respects to their relatives there. In the midst of the new global normal, Yani’s book became a smashing success. All proceeds went to funding her midwifery scholarships to further the number of Black and Native midwives and doulas learning at the Wakandan birthing centers. The money allowed women to focus fulltime on their craft without monetary restraints. She planned to give more once she became queen because the palace allotted a salary for Queen Consorts that she planned to use for more income-based scholarships. Wherever there were Black and Indigenous women in need, Yani made sure they took priority over anyone else.

Everyone wanted their hands on the book. A Wakandan publishing company mass marketed the coffee-table sized manauscript, and they looked exquisite. The cover was created by a Birnin S’Yan artisan who made a vibranium-tinged dye that was threaded into a gorgeous royal purple and silver cloth overlay. The book had fifty full-page color photos that Yani spent months agonizing over from a total of 200. The cover photo itself deserved to hang in a museum. It showed a young woman holding her newborn daughter and they were both dressed in the vibrant colors of the River Tribe.

When the pre-release online sales skyrocketed, Yani made the decision to only provide non-online sales out of Wakanada through global Black bookstores. The international brick and mortar stores made bank with the flood of non-Black customers wanting their hands on something from Wakanda. Even people who weren’t even interested in childbirth or culture clamored to snatch up a copy just to get a glimpse of what Wakanda looked like from the inside. The first print sold out in one week.

The talks finally ended and the affair moved into a spacious outdoor dining area where a small jazz trio played music in a corner. The balmy weather made it comfortable to be outside and he took in a deep inhale of D.C. air.

Okoye and Ayo kept the pre-dinner rush to talk to the king at a distance, giving N’Jadaka time to snag a moment of peace. After ten minutes he shook hands and greeted caucus leaders, trying not to look annoyed at their requests for selfies with him. He obliged to be polite and to give an air of camaraderie. Everyone wanted everyone else to think they had connections to him by how loud they talked or laughed with him. He knew the drill.

The hosts ushered his entourage to their dining seats near the front of another podium. No one pretended to be sly about sneaking candids of him with their smartphones.

“King N’Jadaka, your son is here to see you right away,” Ayo whispered in his ear.

N’Jadaka looked around and spotted Riki walking out from the museum with his personal Dora, Quamba. All the diners stopped to watch the prince of Wakanda walk through with his hands behind his back and his eyes searching for his Baba. Some people tried to snap photos of Riki, but all of N’Jadaka’s children wore necklaces that thwarted any cameras from getting clear pictures of them by jamming up electronics and flash photography cameras.

Riki looked too clean.

Yani braided his hair in the spiral style of his Wakandan ancestors, threaded with shells and beads that bounced around his shoulders. This week, Riki wore jade and black fingernail polish decorated with mini panther claws in bright gold which was the rage of young children in Birnin Zana who loved their local team that played a popular sport called ukudlala ngomlenze…leg play. It was a game that required balance, and intense leg flexibility as two teams battled each other on a low swinging wooden bridge that moved across a deep body of water. One member of each team took turns standing in the center of the swinging bridge as the other team members of the challenging team split up on either side to rock the opponent off their feet, without any of their own teammates falling over too. The narrow bridge swung higher and higher, pushing athletes to go against gravity, their exhausted limbs put to the test for long durations. N’Jadaka had promised Riki a trip to the national competition in the River Tribe territory once they returned home.

Riki’s black royal sash rested snug across his chest with the family crest blazoned on it. The boy was seven-years old and sprouting a bit of height. He was almost as tall as Sydette and would probably surpass her by the time he was eight. Riki’s eyes lit up when he spotted N’Jadaka.

“Baba!”

The boy ran past chuckling adults who admired the tailored royal suit and polished shoes. N’Jadaka held his arms out and his son jumped onto his lap and kissed his cheek. The happy king wrapped his child up in love.

“I’ve missed your busy behind,” N’Jadaka said. “Where’s your Mama and the girls?”

“Changing clothes. I couldn’t wait to see you,” Riki said, squeezing his arms around N’Jadaka’s neck.

“Good trip, Dumplin?”

“Yes. People went crazy for Mama and her book. I’m ready to go home though. I don’t like this country…the people here are so fake. They only like you if you’re rich or famous.”

“Hungry?”

Riki nodded and scanned the tables for the evening’s selection. He scrunched up his nose at the servers placing rolls and butter on the tables.

“Can we eat this food, Baba?” Riki asked.

“We have people watching the chef in the kitchen.”

The Udaku children had been taught to reject outside food unless their parents permitted them to partake. N’Jadaka had become cautious with poisoning and normally had his own personal chef make all of their food, but he opted to watch the American cooks this time around instead of turning down a plate. The head chef for the evening was a famous Black American from New Orleans who read that N’Jadaka liked food from that region and wanted to create a menu to impress the powerful king.

“Sit next to me,” N’Jadaka said, pulling out a chair for Riki.

Mpilo took a seat across from them at the circular table that seated twelve. Members of the CBC organizing committee greeted him then took their seats at other tables. The jazz music grew softer as guests took their seats all throughout the guarded space. A congresswoman from Philly took to the podium near N’Jadaka’s area and announced the arrival of Yani and Ramonda. Eager applause broke out and N’Jadaka stood up from his seat. He helped Riki stand in his chair so he could see his mother and aunt enter.

N’Jadaka’s Uncle Bakari escorted Yani and Ramonda together as Sydette and Joba walked in front of them wearing matching purple dresses with their hair twisted and pulled back with amethyst panther-shaped hair clips. Yani mesmerized the crowd in a shimmery emerald green dress that revealed all her curves. She styled her hair with extensions in an upswept fancy roll that denoted her status as queen-to-be. Ramonda had the crowd transfixed with her tall purple isicholo and deep purple gown. Uncle Bakari was dapper in his black tux. N’Jadaka’s grandfather Dante escorted Bakari’s wife Shavonne and they all made their way toward the front where their Dora Milaje escorts brought them to the king’s table.

Sydette and Joba dashed to him first and he picked up both girls and smothered their faces with kisses amidst their squeals of delight for being with him again. He put them down the moment Yani reached him and he couldn’t hide from the world his love for her.

His arms wrapped around her tight and he pressed his forehead against hers. The tense energy in his body drained down into the floor and he exhaled a long breath. Yani rested her arms around his massive shoulders, her perfume drowning him in memories of their shared bed and the last time they had been alone without the world watching their every move.

“Baby, I missed you so much.”

“I know. I couldn’t wait to get here and hold you.”

“You know these niggas is starin’ so we better play it cool for Ramonda’s sake.”

Yani giggled and pulled away from him. He kissed her hand and turned to Ramonda, giving his auntie double kisses on both cheeks. He hugged his grandpop next and finally showed love to his American aunt and uncle who raised him after his parents died. They all took their seats at the dining table. Yani sat at his right, and Riki, Joba, and Sydette took over his left side.

As the first courses of salads, soups, and finger foods were brought out, announcements were made. The head chef was brought out and recognized. N’Jadaka allowed the nervous man to take a picture with him holding up a plate of sausage gumbo with rice. There was special recognition given to Yani, along with a surprise plaque presented to Ramonda for her role as an ambassador fostering goodwill between America and Wakanda.

N’Jadaka caught up with his aunt and uncle and the family chatter reminded him of being home except they were being watched like fish in a fishbowl. When dessert and coffee were brought out at the end of the meal, Ramonda switched seats with Riki and leaned in toward the king.

“President Mubiri would like to have a nightcap with you during the mixer inside the museum,” Ramonda said.

“Why?”

Ramonda’s sharp eyes observed the guests.

“He believes D.C. is neutral ground and he would like to discuss rumors of you inciting a coup in his nation.”

“Sounds like C.I.A. bullshit.”

“Even so, it wouldn’t hurt to appear cordial. Get some photos taken that shows two rival nations talking together. Yani is your icebreaker. Madame Mubiri is here, too. A nice photo-op of beautiful African women mingling will make the CBC very happy.”

N’Jadaka glanced at Yani’s fingers. She had on her deadly finger armor. Hopefully she wouldn’t threaten the man again.

He signaled for Quamba and several Onyx Squad security to take his children and grandfather back to their penthouse suite at the hotel they were lodged in for the weekend. He hugged and kissed the children promising to read a bedtime story to them later. People moved out of the way and stared at his heirs. All three children walked like royalty, heads held high, backs kept straight.

The after dinner mixer started inside the lobby of the museum where a giant abstract art installation above their heads looked like the unfurling of giant bronze ribbons. N’Jadka read the description of the sculpture that was supposed to represent the swinging motions like a band of angels coming down to carry Black Americans back home like the old spiritual “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot”. The artist, Richard Hunt, used suspended cables to anchor the work, and the swooping arcs of the bronze bands reminded N’Jadaka of his mother’s arms around his body when he was small.

Several servers traipsed the lobby carrying drinks and savory finger foods. A D.J. played contemporary R&B and the guests relaxed into full-blown partying mode. Bakari and Shavonne headed toward a display of Harriet Tubman’s shawl further inside the museum and Mpilo escorted Ramonda to meet some caucus members who were dying to be seen with her.

N’Jadaka held out his arm and Yani rested her hand on it. She walked with a majestic stride that matched his and they mingled for a bit. Yani’s charm was her greatest weapon and they spent a considerable amount of time discussing her book and tour. Her radiance overwhelmed a few people who couldn’t stop admiring her even as they moved on to other guests. The allure of power was a true aphrodisiac, and Yani wielded it well. All of her Wakandan training and years of experience dealing with all sorts of people paid off in spades as she delighted American dignitaries. He couldn’t stop staring at her himself. Her voice lit up his face and he smiled at everything she said. Yani’s youth also surprised people. She would be entering her late twenties soon enough, but carried a greater maturity and self-awareness in the last year representing Wakanda internationally.

They worked the first three corners of the lobby before the mixer branched out to the rest of the museum, and they headed toward President Mubiri and Madame Mubiri who lingered near a replica of a slave quarter. The Mohanndan president stood with a glass of liquor in his hand entertaining cronies as his wife watched her husband’s dour animated face with his uppercase gums spilling over his lowercase teeth. Her eyes sparked up when Yani approached holding out her hands toward the woman.

“Madame Habiba Mubiri, I finally get to see you again in a less formal setting,” Yani enthused.

Yani ignored Mubiri and immediately pulled Habiba away from her husband, touching her hand in informal friendship.

“Mubiri,” N’Jadaka said, offering his hand. Mubiri shook it.

“King N’Jadaka.”

Yani reached for a glass of wine from a server that had been freshly poured from the bar. She presented it to N’Jadaka using the ancient submissive stance of queens in Wakanda, holding the glass up to him with her right hand, while her other hand cradled the elbow of the serving arm. N’Jadaka caught the lust in Mubiri’s eyes again for his fiancé. He took the glass from Yani and kissed her cheek.

“Thank you, baby,” he said.

“May I please borrow Madame Mubiri? I would love to introduce her to the head organizer,” Yani asked Mubiri.

It was clear that Mubiri didn’t want his wife to do anything, but Yani’s seductive voice couldn’t be denied. She played on the man’s need to control women by asking his permission. Her earlier exaggerated submissive act toward N’Jadaka fed into the man’s cultural ego. Yani upped the ante by touching his arm and squeezing it. Her touch ignited something in the president and he lifted his wife’s arm and practically threw her at Yani.

“I’m sure you two have some important things to discuss without us present,” she added.

“Enjoy yourselves,” Mubiri said, his gaze plastered all over Yani’s figure as the two women strolled further into the heart of the museum.

N’Jadka pretended to drink his wine while being focused on something else until Yani was gone.

“I thank you for the personal invitation to your wedding King N’Jadaka. I didn’t think you would extend us any welcome to your country again.”

“It’s a time of celebration, not political intrigue. Yani wanted your wife there. They have been corresponding for a time getting to know each other. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

“And miss the nuptials of that delightful woman you parade around like a trophy? Never. We will attend and enjoy the splendor.”

They both drank in silence.

“Did you like the tour of the museum earlier?” N’Jadaka asked.

“An intriguing history lesson. You must be proud of your heritage here.”

“I am.”

“Rebels at heart. I see why the Americans want to control you.”

“I know you don’t want to stand here and shoot the shit about my lineage. You want to know if I’m plotting to throw you out of office.”

Mubiri choked on his drink as N’Jadaka stared at his face. The Mohanndan’s cronies flicked their eyes away in embarrassment, not expecting the king to be that blunt.

“What would I gain from having you taken out, Mubiri? There would only be another leader who thinks the same as you, so nothing would change. Pinning your hopes on the Americans holding me in check has not paid off in a year. I offer nothing but hope and a chance at directing Africa’s vast internal wealth and ancient wisdom back to where it belongs…on all of our people.”

“Our people? You Wakandans are stand-offish and think only of yourselves. These little excursions into other African nations giving them little trinkets of your resources reeks of a ploy to rule over us all. At least your uncle acted like a benevolent father-figure in the west.”

“My uncle was not the man you all think he was. I am telling you now, to your face Barasa Mubiri…I have no plans for a coup, an assassination, nor war with your country. Did you not read my fiancé’s book? Wakandans value peaceful living, enhancements to prolong life, and self-actualization that benefits the whole and not just the individual. We kept to ourselves for centuries even when we had the means to colonize the world and bend it to our will. But we didn’t.”

“I still think that is an option in your arsenal, King N’Jadaka.”

“I am from the school of ‘don’t start none, won’t be none’. My goal is transformative liberation for whomever wants it.”

“So-called liberators often transform into something sinister, if given the chance.”

The king moved closer to the east African president, closing the small gap between them.

“I only plan to bring hell to those who mean us harm. Do you plan to cause problems for us with this U.S. administration?” N’Jadaka asked.

Mubiri shook his head and smiled.

“I want peace and prosperity for our people too.”

“Good. You have heard directly from my mouth what I want. Let’s spend the rest of the evening showing the world that Africans can co-exist on the continent without people confirming their biases about us being warlords and despots. We can be civil with our disagreements. Everything doesn’t have to be bloodshed, or rumors of hostile take-overs.”

N’Jadaka excused himself with Okoye by his side.

#King Killmonger The Golden Jaguar #King Killmonger #Killmonger Fanfiction #Wakanda Forever #Namor #Black Panther Fanfiction #Uzumaki Rebellion #Uzumaki Rebellion Writes #Youtube

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artisticestheticreads · 1 year

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Summertime Magic XIII

A/N: WHAAAAT?!?!?! Another chapter of your FAV fanfic with Mr. N'Jadaka Udaku.

To Catch Up, Press Here.

Warning: Nothing really but there is a discussion about ... uhn uhn no spoilers sorry

Word Count: 4182

Song Recommendation: All Mine - Brent Faiyaz

“So what you wanna talk about? If this is about M’Baku, I apologize. He's wild as fuck I swear. Do you mind if I grab an apple?” She washed one off and handed it to him with a smile. He nodded as he bit into at how delicious it was heard:

“Ndiyazi ukuba ungubani kanye kanye ... iNkosana N'Jadaka (I know who you really are... Prince N'Jadaka),” Leslie said, causing him to cough from the shock and looked up; noticing her brow raise, folded arms and slight grin, hips leaning against the counter.

N’Jadaka looked up at Leslie and said “I can explain everything, Leslie. Wait, does she-“.

“Nope. She doesn't know anything. Y’know I was a little skeptical when we first met then I started to see you more and when Y/N told me about your trips to Wakanda, I just thought ‘hmmm, just another person from Wakanda. But then low and behold the freaking king and lord of Wakanda are in your house. You don’t know how to hide it, don’t you?”, Leslie asked before she took a sip of red wine. The prince looked down at his hands and sighed. “Look, I’m sorry but you have to keep this between us. She can't know right now”

“Why? So, my best friend doesn’t know she is gonna be one of your wives?”

“One of my wives? Leslie, where the hell did you hear that from?” Leslie poured another glass and said, “my grandma told me when she was back home, the kings and princes had multiple wives. Look, I ain’t tryna talk shit about our own culture but Y/N is too good to be one of your wives. I ain’t with that shit and neither would she.” N’Jadaka laughed and said “with all due respect, she must have not been there for decades because we stopped that shit when my unc became king. Queen Mother wasn't with that shit at all either so I get you. I care about Baby Girl too damn"

Leslie leaned forward on her hand as she asked "then why can't she know? I mean you love her and what not so why keep her in the dark?" N'Jadaka took a deep breath and started to explain why. "Well, I feel like if she finds out she may leave me, use me, or just whatever the fuck she wants. I had to basically stop my friends from mentioning people around me. I have to keep a very low profile at all times or someone will run and ask for my autograph like I'm Beyonce or something."

"With all due respect my prince, you will never be Beyonce. And do you really think sissy is like that", she asked in a monotone voice, left brow rose and arms extra folded. N'Jadaka sat up and looked her in the face before saying “no. To be honest, I just wanna protect my baby. She really does mean a lot to me but I just know a lot of folks will come after her. I promise I will tell her.”

"When", said Leslie when she rolled her eyes, not believing him. N'Jadaka kept her eyes on her as he dug in his pocket and slid a velvet box towards her. “N’Jadaka…is that what I think it is?” Leslie looked to him before grabbing the box and once she opened it, all she can say was:

"Wow."

"Yeah, been holding on since we made it official."

"N'Jadaka, this is beautiful. But wait, why buy a ring but not tell her about you being royality?"

"It may seem foolish but it was M'Baku's idea. He said it would be more suspenseful, dramatic but mostly I did it because I want to take her on a trip to Wakanda in a few months and tell her." Leslie couldn’t stop looking at the ring; a 2 1/4 ct tw Emerald-cut 14K White Gold but the band looked like it was a polished vibranium finish. Leslie felt teary eyed just looking at it, just imagining how her best friend would react and how beautiful of a bride she would be. “Wow, this is really nice and beautiful and sweet. I’m sorry that I’m so dramatic. I am just so happy for y’all.” He walked over to her and hugged her tight as he chuckled. “Well, I’m happy you love it. I can’t wait to see my baby’s reaction.”

They heard footsteps and had to be inconspicuous; N’Jadaka let go of Leslie and started caressing the fridge while Leslie wiped her face clean of tears and sipped her wine clean, they saw the ring and its box; he grabbed and hid it in his pocket. Y/N waltzed in with her nephew on her like a koala. “Hey, Monte. They in here and for some reason, babe is making love to y’all new fridge.”

“If he gets my fridge pregnant, he will pay child support”, Monte said as he walked behind her. Soon, everyone made their way to the backyard where it was a whole barbeque feast along with pot roast, baked mac and cheese and multiple side dishes. “So, JD. How is the OutReach center going, man? Sis been tellin’ me about some of programs already?”

“Oh yeah. You know we have the whole nine yards but I think the kids are going to be more into the science and art programs though. We also got the sports coming in too so the kids are gonna love it.” Monte nodded and asked “So JD, when are you and sis gonna make me an uncle?” Y/N coughed on her white wine and fanned herself to breathe again; Izaiah patted her back to make sure she was okay. Leslie told Monte “baby, don’t tryna sound like pops please. They will have kids one day.”

“Leslie baby, I know. I’m just talking trash, that's all.” Leslie cut into her pot roast as she glared at him and said “well, ya better stop or your butt is gonna be talking to that couch.” Monte looked at her and glared at her back but went back to his food then asked “so, baby sis, when y’all getting married”; this made Leslie choke like Y/N and she quickly drank her water while everyone watched. N’Jadaka sat there with wide eyes eating his food then relaxed them once she felt Y/N’s hand on his thigh. She looked to her good friend and said “when the time comes, Monte. I don’t want to rush into anything, you know what I mean but even if he never asks me to be his wife; it doesn't matter to me. I will always love him.” N’Jadaka looked at her and smirked as she winked and went back to his food.

Once they finished dessert, Monte, N’Jadaka and Izaiah were playing with a huge yoga ball in the backyard. Leslie grabbed her vape, added a cream pineapple flavor and took a small puff, making sure to blow the smoke out where Y/N wasn’t sitting. “I can’t believe Monte asked that”, Y/N said before pouring her fourth glass of white wine. Leslie took another hit and asked “which one”?

“About me having a kid with him. He know that is a touchy ass subject so why ask?” Leslie took a deep breath sipping her red wine and said “I’m sorry, Y/N/N. I feel bad now.” Y/N looked to her then looked at the three boys and watched as N’Jadaka played with her godson. He looked so happy as he played with the small child; it warmed her heart so much but then she felt a tear drop and her heart shattered. She excused herself and went straight to the bathroom. Once she did, she saw her mascara running down her cheeks. “Great, there goes my makeup.” She grabbed one of Leslie’s makeup wipes and tapped her running mascara marks away. She then dug into her purse to grab her setting powder, her travel powder brush and started to cover what was missing from her makeup. Y/N closed her eyes, took a deep breath and told herself “I am beautiful. I am powerful. I am strong. I am loved and I matter.” She opened her eyes to see Monte standing behind her with a concerned face that made her heart fall to her kneecaps. “What the fuck, Monte?! When the Hell did you get in here?!”

“Uh, when you started chanting like Angela Bassett praying like Tina Turner”; she rolled her eyes and he looked at her reflection. “Bae told me where you were and also cussed me the fuck out so yeah.” She looked at him as she reapplied her eyeliner then her mascara. Monte bent down to place his head on her shoulder, pouting as he looked in the mirror. “Sissy, you ain’t mad at me are you?”

“I’m chillin’, Monte.”

“You sit on a throne of lies, madam. I’ve known you since middle school and I know how you are, missy. You get that look in ya like you wanna shank someone in the knee cap then ya nostrils start flaring up.” Y/N looked up to him which made him point at her and stand up straight. “See, there it is”; she turned to him which made him yelp and slam his back into the door. She poked into his chest as she said the following words:

“Why the hell would you mention children knowing what I've been through?” Monte relaxed his shoulders a tad and took a deep breath; he hung his head in defeat and replied: “I am sorry, sis. I feel really bad. I meant no harm by it.” Y/N looked at him with folded arms before he asked, “he doesn’t know, does he”; she stood in silence which he took as an answer. “You gonna have to tell him one day right, sis? You can’t hide it from him forever.” Y/N stood there, feeling as if she was disappointed in herself. She loves N’Jadaka dearly but what if her secret would make him leave for good.

Once it was time to go, Y/N placed her god baby in his bed and tucked him while JD watched. He grinned thinking of how great of a mom she would be. He thought about what he was asked at dinner and just couldn’t stop imagining him and Y/N as parents. He felt like she he was a chunky baby, their child would also be a chunky one as well. He didn't care if they had a boy or girl first; the only thing that mattered was the health and well being of the child or, as he would like in the future, children. When he was growing up in Oakland, California, he only really had his father up until he was eight sadly. Once his father passed away and his family took him to Wakanda, Mother Ramonda and Father T’Chaka were his parental figures. At fourteen years old, his family decided to explain his mother’s death; she passed away two days after giving birth to him. This became a fear for him especially if he and Y/N decide to make their own family.

The ride home was honestly so quiet which wasn’t their typical quiet, there was some tension that you can cut with a knife.When they got to N’Jadaka’s home, she hopped in the shower as he was checking his phone and getting undressed. Y/N stood looking in the mirror after she hopped out, she had to come clean about her secret. To her, communication was key and she knew that if she kept this hidden then it would keep eating at her. In bed, her in a huge shirt and him in just sweat pants, they just lied there looking at the ceiling; and that’s how they dosed off.

Y/N woke up to the smell of breakfast so she stood, stretched her limbs and headed to do her morning routine before leaving the bathroom. N’Jadaka stood at the counter as she walked out, listening to Brent Faiyaz and setting the waiting area. He poured some OJ in tall curved glasses and followed half the cup with champagne. On their plates were fluffy omlettes with spinach, peppers and cheese, wheat toast, turkey sausage links, bacon and a side of hashbrowns. She sat at the counter and took a small sigh before saying “good morning” with a small smile and buttering her toast. N’Jadaka can tell something was troubling her and said “y’know? My unc always said ‘you can always feel if something is troubling someone you care for.’ You have something on your mind. I can feel it”.

“I just been thinking about what Monte said at dinner”, she said after showing and finishing a slice of toast. N’Jadaka looked up at her while he sipped his mimosa. Once he placed his cup back down and moved his food next to her as he sat. N’Jadaka sat ext to her and leaned into her saying “baby, we already talked about this. We don’t have to get married anytime soon, love. We-”.

“I can’t have kids, N’Jadaka”, she said as she poked at her food. N’Jadaka was taken back honestly mentally. He had no idea what to say in the situation. He couldn’t imagine what was going on through her mind. But all he can do was stand as ahe looked down at her plate and hugged her from behind. He rested his chin on her head and as the hug went on, he heard little sniffs and felt her rub his arm slowly; the sound of her crying broke his heart. He kissed her head to comfort her and said “it’s okay, Y/N.”

“It’s not. I just-” ; she stopped and continued. “What if you wanted kids one of these days and I can’t give them to you. I just- I just don’t want you to regret being with me...” He looked over her head, took a deep, holding her tighter before he letting go and went to sit back down. “Y/N, I will never regret being with you. I love you way too much to say that is a deal breaker. We don’t have to have kids right now and when the time comes, we can just try and do our research. And even if we still have a baby, I can’t see myself with anyone but you.”

“Really”, she said as she look up at him while tearing up a bit. N’Jadaka wiped her tears with his thumbs as he told her “of course, beautiful. I would never call it quits because of that. We will make it work. Aight?” She nodded and he leaned into her lips and kissed them softly. “Now, eat ya food, shower, get dolled up, alright? You been working a lot, you may got a little burn out and stress going on so I’m take you to get ya nails and feet done. Maybe, a deep ass massage, a little shopping trip for you and not for your shop. Okay?”

Y/N sat there in her feelings but they weren’t bad feelings. She felt love, she felt safe and never felt this way with any man before and she was okay with that. After they ate and got ready, they headed out and spent the day together. He would steal some looks of her. Watching her with pineapple hair, black shades, tye dye body con dress with red slides to match, she was beautiful not even trying. As they walked the street of Rodeo, he would pull her and wrap his arms around showing her a warm embrace. He couldn’t imagine his life without her. Even just watching her get nails and feet done, he still loved being around her and in her presence. As she talked and got pampered, he watched as she smiled and everytime she did, there was light that just shined and made everyone smile from ear to ear; he couldn’t wait to make her Mrs. Udaku and treat her like royalty the rest of their lives.

The following week, both of their schedules were hectic as heck. From the Outreach Center to the grand opening of her salon, they have been overly busy with everything. When ever they were together, they were always working but they always made sure that made time for one another. On the next off day for N’Jadaka, he sat at his place bored and laying in bed. All of a sudden, he heard a knock on the door and got up to answer; it was Jerald and Sheila. The couple wore a matching Nike sweatsuit and had bags in their hands. “Hey, man. Where baby girl at”, Sheila asked. He told her “working on the shop, S. She’ll be home in a few hours.”

Jerald places the bags on his counter and said “my moms made you grip of food, bruh. Cornbread, greens, pot roast, all that.” N’Jadaka rubbed his hands together feeling his inner fat boy jumping for joy. “Awe shiet. Ma Dukes threw down, huh?”

“You know she did. How ya fam doing by the way? I know the finna all be down here soon for the grandopening in like a month, huh?”

“Yeah, but between me and you, they just wanna meet Y/N. M’Baku and T already did and B’s big ass try to talk to Leslie.” Jerald and Sheila now sat on the couch as Jerald said “Leslie got a whole ass child and man though right.” While she rubbed Jerald’s back, she told the guys “please that aint stopping nothing for M’Baku. Remember her tried to get at me when I was a few months pregnant?” N’Jadaka chuckled and said “oh yeah and he was trying to challenge him on the mountain. Nah, that was funny as fuck.”

“Man, I still got PTSD from being on that damn mountain being butt ass naked.” N’Jadaka passed them some drinks like water and apples juice before sitting. “So, JD, did you do it yet”, Jerald asked and N’Jadaka replied “nah, not yet man. I want it to be special though and y’all got be apart of it.”

“I’m sorry but what are y’all talking about?”

“N’Jadaka is proposing to Y/N”. N’Jadaka said “NIGGUH! Now, you know S can’t keep a damn secret.” She stood and said “am not. At least I aint tell the baby you a whole ass Prince of Wakanda. Did I, hmmm?” Jerald looked at N’Jadaka and said “bae, you kinda told the last girl he hooked up with though.” She looked at him and seemed as if a ray of heat hit the back of his head because his eye twitched once before he said “she looking at me is she?” He avoided her glance as his friend chuckled before saying “Sheila, please don’t tell my girl anything. But my plan is to tell her that I got a surprise vacation planned, she won’t need anything just her and her phone, right? Ima get Dora Milaje to dress up and up on the aircraft then on the plane I will tell her we in Wakanda and all that but then once, we getting greeted by all the tribes. Ima make her feel like royalty the whole night you know after I tell her. Then Auntie talking about a welcoming feast and party but after that, Ima take her to the garden then BOOM candles every where, flowers falling, the purple night sky and my hands in hers as I get on one knee and then this.” He even got on his right knee as he showed the ring. Jerald stood and looked at the ring. “This shiet is sick as fuck, bruh.”

“Is that a vibranium band, JD?” The prince looked at the ring as he stood and said “yeah, it is. Because just like vibranium, our love can withstand anything and last for generations to come.” He heard sniffles as he looked up and saw not only Sheila crying but also Jerald. “That’s so beautiful, nigga. Got my crying and shiet.” Sheila looked to him and pushed him out the way to get to JD. “I promise I won’t saying anything. I am so happy for y’all, baby brother. EEEEK, I can’t wait.”

“Hey, y’all. Can’t wait for Sheila?” They shock to see Y/N standing there with black plastic bags of food. She wore some distressed jeans, a white tee and matching Converse; her hair was in a low bun. Sheila looked at the box in N’Jadaka’s hand and stood in front so he can hide the ring in his pocket and said “the grand opening of the salon, sis. Y’know what? That reminds me, girl. We actually got to get our fits ready. The event is in two days, right?” She pulled Jerald up and pushed him to door as she got her answer and walking; they said their byes with some hugs and left. Y/N turned to her man and said, with a confused expression as she walked to him, placed the bags on the coffee, “was J crying?”

“Yeah, we watching a sad ass movie, Sheila made us watched.” She giggled and wrapped his arms around his neck to kiss his lips once; he growled in pleasure and wrapped his arms around her waist, deeply kissing her. She moaned as her lips and tongue make love to his. She began to hold the back of neck getting deeper into the kiss until she smelt the food. She tried to pull away from the kiss but he didn’t want to stop.

“Baby, the food is gonna cold.”

“Fuck that food. I wanna eat you instead.”

“Baby, I’m hungry.”

“You can eat later after I eat.” With that, he picked her up, wrapped her legs around his waist and made their way to the bedroom. He threw her gently on the bed and started crawling up her body. “You gonna feed me, baby girl, or do I gotta unwrap my food myself.” She looked up at him while on her elbows before unzipping and slipped out her jeans. He began kissing her inner thighs before slipping her panties to the side. Slipping his thick digits inside her made her grip them instant as he did a curling motion as he sucked her clit. She moaned at the feeling and felt all her stress from the work week. She looked down at him to see his gentle orbs looked right at her.

He loved making eye contact whether it was missionary.

“I love you so much”.

From the side.

“Damn, this pussy good as fuck, baby girl.”

And especially from the back. God, bless that mirror.

“Look at you taking all this dick. Mmmm fuck. Don’t you look beautiful taking this dick.”

“I look so good taking this dick, daddy.” After they made love, he stood from the bed still nude and said “aight, baby. You wanna eat?” All the answer he got was when he heard little snores behind him; he just chuckled and laughed.

It was the night of the grand opening and they were ready. N’Jadaka looked in the mirror of the bedroom and knew he looked good in his attire with his coat wide open and gold fangs glistening. Y/N came out in her amazing dress and he was taken aback. He kissed her cheek and they were off. They saw the news trucks, her family, friends, and supporters as they pulled up. Y/N got local black businesses to cater the event, and she had something to say before she opened the doors.

“Hey, everyone. If you do not know who I am, I’m Y/N Y/L/N . I have been doing hair since very young young and been saving for this moment. This may sound cliche but I honestly am very thankful for y’all support and just being here. It was a very long road to travel down but it was all so worth it. I appreciate you all from friends and family for having my back for years but I also want to thank a man who has showed me so much love in the year and few we have dated and that man is Mr. N’Jadaka Udaku, who without him, I wouldn’t be standing here now.” She held out her hand to signal him to come and as everyone cheered, clapped and took photos, he stood behind her, hugging her from the back and just being so proud of her but they didn’t know what was happening a few feet behind the crowd.

There was a couple leaning in a silver Nissan Altima, wearing all black hiding in the night. “So, what you got planned to fuck them over,” said the man who was still upset N’Jadaka has his ex now. He looked towards the woman and said “just know, you inspired this plan… a lot.” The woman was about to do something to ruin what a good thing the couple had, but she didn’t care and was willing to do anything to let Y/N know she made a huge mistake.

Um....who in the raggedy hell plotting on Y/N and the Prince and HOW do you think Y/N will feel when she finds out N'Jadaka is a whole Prince? Find out in the next chapter. *evil cackle*

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tchallasbabymama · 1 year

Text

How Ramonda Got Her Groove Back: Part One

Hey, y’all! It’s been a while since I last posted a story on here, but I’m trying to get back into the routine after taking a new position at my job. So, without further ado, here’s the first chapter of my Ramonda story. Please leave feedback in the form of comments and reblogs, and let me know if you want to be tagged in anything! Here’s a link to my masterlist so you can read my other stories as well. Enjoy 😘

Word Count: 5,594

Queen Ramonda didn't shed a single salty tear when the news of her husband’s death reached her ears. She had always been known as a fierce and unshakable ruler, and she refused to allow T’Chaka’s departure from this plane to tarnish her reputation. After all, despite the loss, she felt a tiny bit of relief knowing her reign had ended.

Ramonda never wanted to be queen, but what other choice is there when one falls in love with a king? She had entered T’Chaka’s life at the precise moment when he had finally let go of his departed wife, and she took to him and his young son, T’Challa, immediately. Shortly after, they were married, and a few years later, Ramonda found herself carrying his secondborn. Though Ramonda wouldn’t give up being T’Challa and Shuri’s mother for the world, there were many days when she longed for freedom from the palace. She often stared at the far-off Jabari mountains and wondered what mysteries they held. Whenever T’Chaka would take her with him on diplomatic trips out of the country, Ramonda gladly went with him, just happy to get out of the confines of her home.

However, Ramonda would never forget the first time T’Chaka left the country after they met. At the time, she believed him to be hunting down Klaue for his thievery, but now she knew the truth. Now, she could no longer think of her husband without bile rising in her throat. His actions that day resulted in a decades-long grudge against Wakanda and the Udaku clan by one of their own. One who had been abandoned by his own family, by T’Chaka. The king had killed his brother, N’Jobu, in cold blood and left his young son behind to fend for himself. Never mind that he had a son himself, and never mind that the child he abandoned was family… apparently, none of that mattered.

T’Chaka took the secret of what happened that night to his grave. He had N’Jobu declared Missing in Action and went about his life as if everything was normal. It wasn’t until after T’Chaka’s death that N’Jobu’s son arrived and turned Wakanda on its head. N’Jadaka was the name his parents gave him, but the U.S. military called him “Killmonger.” A horrible name for a man capable of doing horrible things.

When Killmonger challenged T’Challa for the throne, Ramonda felt her gut twist in the way it usually did when something didn’t feel right. She had all the faith in the world in her son, but the hatred in Killmonger’s eyes told her everything he needed to know: the man was dangerous. Though he certainly wanted power, he wasn’t fighting because of greed. He was fighting out of grief and hatred, which made him destructive. Killmonger didn’t just want what T’Challa had; he wanted to make him and all his loved ones feel the same pain he had felt for years.

The unshakable queen shattered into pieces the second that Killmonger lifted T’Challa’s limp body onto his shoulders and tossed him over the falls. She held on tight to her daughter as Nakia ushered them to safety in the Jabari mountains. The very mountains Ramonda had longed to visit one day under different circumstances.

Bast had been looking out for her that day because when they arrived in Lord M’Baku’s throne room, he was not the dreadful man she assumed him to be. He had a sense of humor about him, but more importantly, he was an honorable man.

As it turned out, T’Challa’s body had washed ashore just beyond the Jabari’s borders, and M’Baku had his healers taking care of him as best they could. Ramonda resuscitated him using a heart-shaped herb that the king’s paramour Nakia had snatched before they went on the run. Not even an hour later, T’Challa was already planning his march back down the mountain. He expected Ramonda to leave Wakanda for her protection, but she refused. Instead, T’Challa settled on ensuring his mother’s safety within the walls of the Jabari palace.

“Mama, I need you to stay here. To stay safe,” he said, throwing off his hooded blanket and allowing the dark fibers of the Black Panther suit to escape from his necklace, covering his body.

Ramonda pursed her lips disapprovingly but held her tongue. She was no longer in the fighting shape of her younger years, so Ramonda decided to heed his word.

“Very well, then,” she conceded with a sigh and placed her hand against his cheek. Her eyes were weighed down with grief and fatigue but still so full of love for her only son. “Send for me the moment you unseat him.”

“I will, mama. I promise.” T’Challa kissed her hands before reaching out for his little sister and his love to join them. Nakia’s hand found its way into his, and their fingers naturally intertwined in the way they had for years.

Shuri squeezed in between her loved ones and held them close. Ever the optimist, she sent words of encouragement into the universe, knowing deep in her heart that her brother would be victorious this time, “This will all be over soon.”

---------

Ramonda stood at the wide open doors of the Jabari palace and waved her children goodbye. She held the Border tribe blanket close to her body as she watched them travel down the mountain until they disappeared out of view around a rocky ledge. Even then, Ramonda stood there, her eyes glued on the sight of her home in the distant valley as she prayed for peace. Peace for her people, peace for her family, and peace for herself. The latter was already in short supply and became downright scarce when she heard a throat clear behind her.

“Queen Mother Ramonda-”

“You hypocrite,” she spat, whipping around on her heels and facing M’Baku.

Her tone gobsmacked the near-giant.

“Excuse me?”

“My son went to you for help, and you refused him.”

“I have helped enough.” He waved her off with a roll of his eyes. “The Black Panther lives, does he not?”

“Three days ago, you wanted Wakanda for yourself, and now you pretend you do not care about what happens to it. You are just throwing a tantrum because you failed!”

M’Baku glared down at Ramonda, standing almost a foot shorter than his massive frame, her finger pushed into his chest accusingly.

“Show the queen to her quarters,” he hissed through gritted teeth before storming down the hall towards the throne room, barking orders at every guard he passed.

A broad-shouldered man with a hefty build stepped forward from against the far wall, his grass and leather skirts rustling with each step he took. Ramonda recognized him from Challenge Day, but his eyes were softer this time around. The first time she saw him, he wore the hardened facade of a warrior ready for battle, but this time with his brows relaxed and a soft smile on his face, his warmth shone through.

He wasn’t warm enough to melt the icy daggers coming from Ramonda’s eyes, though.

“Right this way, Queen Mother.”

He gestured for her to follow him, and she stared blankly at him. Just as his eyebrows creased and he began to speak up, she stepped forward, passing him by as she hastened towards what she now knew to be the residential side of the palace. Her speed took the guard by surprise, but he caught up to her quickly with his long strides.

Ramonda held her blanket tight around her shoulders and unsuccessfully willed her body to stop shivering as they walked through the winding palace halls. Artisans had carved the impressive structure out of the mountainside long ago, and she distracted herself from the chill by admiring the architecture. Jabari wood featured prominently in the palace’s design, and she wondered if all of Jabariland was so beautiful.

“There will be furs waiting for you to change into,” the guard remarked, breaking her train of thought. “Much warmer than that flimsy sheet.”

Ramonda pressed her lips together and cut her eyes at him.

“How much farther?”

He fought a smirk when he noticed her nose was beginning to run.

“Too cold for you?” he asked teasingly.

“This climate is uninhabitable for humankind,” Ramonda huffed.

The guard chuckled, and the sound grated against Ramonda’s eardrums. Rather than continue their back-and-forth, she chose to conserve her energy and focus on not freezing to death before she could see her children again. She thought of the sun and imagined its warm rays beaming down on her skin. Memories of taking Shuri and T’Challa to play in the river when they were young filled her mind and brought her physical and emotional comfort.

Ramonda was lost in her thoughts when moments later, she noticed they had begun climbing a winding wooden staircase with massive glass windows along the side so they could view the entirety of Jabariland during their ascent. Her breath hitched in her throat, and her eyes grew wide at the soft blanket of white that covered the entire territory.

The guard chuckled again, and she tore her eyes away from the wintry wonderland outside, only to see a sly smirk on his face.

“And just what is so amusing?” she asked, making his smirk spread into an almost smile.

“I have never before seen Jabariland through the eyes of an outsider.”

Ramonda’s defensiveness slipped away. She understood what he meant. After all, Wakanda had been an isolationist nation as well, and although she never got to share her homeland with anyone from the outside, she often thought about what it would be like to do so.

“I must admit, you have a beautiful homeland… though the frigid temperature leaves plenty to be desired,” she complimented him backhandedly as she continued up the stairs.

“I prefer it to the suffocating heat that you lowlanders live in,” he retorted, taking a left at the landing and leading her down yet another hallway. Ramonda’s face scrunched up at his words, not liking how derogatory they sounded, but before she could comment, he continued, “Well, here we are.”

The guard reached out his massive hand and turned the knob on the intricately carved wooden door, and Ramonda was shocked again. Being a queen, she was used to luxury. However, she was pleasantly surprised that her definition of quarters fit for a queen matched the Jabari’s. A large canopy bed covered in warm-looking blankets called to Ramonda, but the centerpiece of the suite, a raging fireplace, had her moving on auto-pilot toward the heat.

“A guard will be stationed outside your door if you need anything,” he said, and she turned around to face him, her hands warming by the flames.

“A different guard?” she asked.

“Yes. This was my final duty for today.”

Ramonda nodded.

“Very well then. Enkosi…”

“Kodjo, your highness.”

“Enkosi, Kodjo.”

“You are most welcome.”

He lowered his head in a respectful bow and closed the door behind himself, leaving Ramonda alone in her palace quarters with views of the entire province. She tore herself away from the fireplace and stepped towards the floor-to-ceiling windows surrounding the space. Under different circumstances, the view would have moved her to tears, but she averted her eyes before any could fall.

To her left, she noticed a doorway and decided to explore what was on the other side. As it turned out, it led to a spa-style bathroom and walk-in closet filled with Jabari leathers and furs sure to keep anybody warm in the glacial temperatures. Ramonda ran her fingers through the fluffy gray fibers of a fur shawl before snatching it off the hanger and wrapping it around her shoulders, dropping the Border tribe blanket in one swift movement. She settled into the fur and inhaled deeply to ground herself in its embrace.

Without warning, Ramonda’s breath stuttered, and as her lungs began to feel full, tears flooded her eyes. She allowed them to fall since she was alone, and silent sobs wracked through her body as she fell to her knees on the closet floor.

The usually calm and collected queen allowed herself to feel the delayed emotional response from her head to her toes until her eyes ran dry, and she had no more emotion left to give. Ramonda slowly peeled herself off the closet floor and dragged herself to the rain shower. She removed her fur wrap, then her clothes, before stepping inside and letting the traumatic experience wash down the drain.

---------

As Kodjo made his way back through the palace, he couldn’t help but look forward to his night ahead. He’d have his loft to himself and already planned to take a long, hot bath to relax. His muscles hadn’t recovered from marching down and back up the mountain on Challenge Day, and he felt like he could collapse at any second. However, as he rounded the corner to the throne room, he surmised that his night wouldn’t go as planned.

M’Baku sat on his throne with his wife Tayesha standing in front of him, her hands on her curvaceous hips that had been spread by his offspring over the years. The chief’s head was in his hands, and the crease in his brow let Kodjo know he was deep in thought.

“My chief?” Kodjo asked, making himself known.

M’Baku looked up, but before he could speak, Tayesha whipped around.

“Kodjo, you should return to your post.”

“My chieftess, I was told someone else would take over.”

“Everyone else will be busy fighting alongside King T’Challa.”

Kodjo blinked in surprise and turned to M’Baku questioningly.

“My chief, you have changed your mind?”

“It seems I have,” M’Baku grumbled, pushing off from the armrests and standing to his full height.

“I would be more useful in battle, no?” Kodjo asked, looking between the two royals.

“We need you here protecting Ramonda in case the usurper tries to come for her,” Tayesha explained softly, her eyes regarding him with their usual warmth.

Kodjo held his tongue and nodded respectfully at his chieftess despite the disappointment filling his body. Yes, he was exhausted, but the prospect of battle re-energized the warrior. Instead, he bowed his head as M’Baku lumbered past, obviously disgruntled at the decision Tayesha had somehow swayed him into. Kodjo couldn’t blame the chief for falling for his wife’s charms; she was exceptionally beautiful, but her inviting aura and the way she wielded her words could get anyone to do what she wanted. Especially her husband.

Tayesha breezed by Kodjo and caught up to M’Baku as he waited for her in the doorway and wrapped her arm around his bicep before allowing him to lead her to their quarters. The two statuesque leaders disappeared down the cavernous hallway, and Kodjo sighed before dragging his feet towards his post.

Everyone Kodjo passed on the way to the other side of the palace seemed giddy with the prospect of war before the announcement had even been made. He trudged his way to Ramonda’s door and glared at it with contempt before sucking his teeth.

“Lowlanders just had to bring trouble with them,” Kodjo grumbled before turning his back to the door and crossing his arms over his broad chest. He ignored the way his tired legs wanted to wobble under his body weight and stood tall like the soldier he was.

On the other side of that door, Ramonda lay in bed, curled up under a pile of blankets and furs, unable to turn her brain off long enough to take the nap she so desperately needed. Her mind raced with anxiety as she pictured the worst-case scenario of what could happen to her children. She felt helpless so far away from all the action, but they couldn’t all be there at once for safety purposes.

Even as her eyes gazed out over the wintry wonderland, she felt none of her usual intrigue for the mysterious mountain range. The circumstances made it difficult for her to appreciate finally visiting the lands she had dreamed of since she was a young girl. She had traveled the world with T’Chaka, but this treasure in her own backyard amazed her more than anywhere else she had been.

A loud horn sounded and broke her from her reminiscing with a start. Her heart thumped in her chest along with the large drums that began playing from seemingly every corner of Jabariland, and the usually graceful queen darted up from the bed, nearly stumbling over the sheets on her way to the window. She could see drummers on top of just about every building in the city, and as they played their tunes, the people rushed to the streets.

Ramonda hurried to her door and swung it open with all the force of a woman on a mission. She fully expected to see a stranger but was oddly comforted when she laid her eyes on Kodjo leaning against the wall across from her door.

“What is happening out there?”

Kodjo heard her question, but his answer dissolved on his tongue. He was too entranced by the way her stark white locs hung wildly about her head, framing her fierce eyes and sharp cheekbones like the snow that fell in his homeland. His distraction didn’t last long, though, because a manicured hand snapped impatiently in his face, bringing his attention back to the situation at hand.

“Where is your replacement?”

“Busy.”

Ramonda narrowed her eyes at his flippant response but continued her line of questioning.

“The drums. What are they for?”

“They are drums of war,” he responded with longing in his eyes, longing for the sweet taste of victory and for something else he hadn’t had in years.

Ramonda’s gut tightened, and her heart lurched into her throat. She thought that surely, the worst had come of her children, and Killmonger had brought the fight to Jabariland. Fear cemented her lips together and creased her brow, but her silence led Kodjo to believe she was displeased by his answer.

“Our mighty chief has decided to aid your son in battle,” he explained further.

Little did Kodjo know his words had quelled an internal storm raging inside Ramonda. She took a breath to give herself time to gather her words.

“Yes, well… I would like to be kept updated on the situation.”

“All we can do now is wait.”

“Wait?” she snipped.

“Yes… wait.”

Ramonda narrowed her eyes at his casual tone, but he simply stared blankly in return which angered her even more.

“Do you have children, Kodjo?” she asked, her tongue laced with poison as she said his name. He sensed her displeasure and straightened his posture as he realized he had overstepped with the royal.

“Yes, I-”

“And would you be content with simply waiting while they risked their lives in battle?”

His round eyes drooped just a little, but his shoulders remained firm.

“I would not,” his voice softened.

“So, you see my problem?”

“I do,” Kodjo sighed, “but we will not know anything until the drums sound again when the warriors return.”

Ramonda deflated from his sincerity and felt for the kimoyo beads on her wrist. They would be her lifeline.

“Very well then.”

Ramonda closed the door and shuffled back across the room, picking up the blankets she tripped over and plopping down in the center of the enormous bed. She crossed her legs and straightened her spine, rolling her shoulders back and centering herself before pressing her tracker bead. A holographic map of Wakanda filled the air in front of her, and she used her fingers to zoom in on Mt. Bashenga, where she could see T’Challa’s and Shuri’s lifelike miniature avatars splitting up to carry out their parts of the plan. Shuri was heading into her lab with Nakia and the colonizer to hijack the Royal Talon while T’Challa was going to confront Killmonger.

Ramonda nestled into the covers and attempted to breathe her anxiety away with deep, cleansing inhales. She ended up getting too relaxed, and though she tried her hardest to keep her eyes open, the warmth of the furs lulled her to sleep.

Falling.

Ramonda felt like she was falling, so she jerked her body awake and found her heart beating out of her chest. She searched the corners of her mind for a memory of her dream, but there was nothing to hold onto—just the feeling of freefalling.

Ramonda wiped the sleep from her eyes and rechecked her beads to see if T’Challa and Shuri were alright. They were both still at Mt. Bashenga, but-

“That cannot be right,” Ramonda squinted her eyes at T’Challa’s location and wondered why he was in the vibranium mine. Her questioning was cut short by a rumbling in her stomach that reminded her she hadn’t eaten since breakfast with M’Baku and Tayesha.

Humming to herself to calm her anxiety, Ramonda crossed the room to the walk-in closet and quickly found a thick sweater made of the softest fibers she’d ever touched and slid it over her body along with a pair of tailored leather pants that were somehow just the right size and furry boots to keep her feet warm.

Making a mental note to purchase some clothing from Jabariland in the future, Ramonda took one last look at her children’s locations on her kimoyo beads before reaching for the doorknob. Before her fingertips could graze the brass, she heard a melodic baritone on the other side of the door singing a song she’d never heard before. She stopped in her tracks and silenced her own serenade to listen to Kodjo effortlessly sing like his vocal chords couldn’t be bothered with anything less than perfection.

---------

Kodjo had just noticed the sun beginning to set when the door opened again. He had spent the last hour daydreaming about his next day off and humming to himself to pass the time, dreading the moment when he would have to face Ramonda again after angering her.

That moment came and went when she regarded him with softer eyes than he had anticipated.

“You have a beautiful voice.”

He blinked the surprise from his face and shrugged off her compliment.

“Eh, it is alright.”

“It is more than alright. You sound like Mustafa Zaire.”

“Who?”

“He is a world-famous Wakandan vocalist,” Ramonda bragged.

“Never heard of him,” Kodjo shrugged again. “A favorite of yours?”

“In fact, he is.”

“Hhm.” Kodjo’s lips curled up in the smallest grin. “My apologies for singing so loudly, Queen Mother-

“Just ‘Ramonda’ will do, Kodjo.”

“Very well, Ramonda.”

Her name rolled effortlessly from his plush lips before wrapping around her like another thick Jabari fur, and she felt her skin warm up in ways she hadn’t felt since she met her departed husband.

“Did I bother you?”

“No. I took a short nap, and when I woke up, I realized it had been a while since my last meal.”

Kodjo’s own hunger was beginning to creep up on him, so he perked up at the mention of food.

“The chieftess takes her meals in her quarters with her children when the chief is away at war, so you will be dining alone tonight.”

Ramonda nodded.

“Come. I will escort you to the kitchen.”

“I remember the way.”

“Yes, but it is my job to keep you safe while you are in our care.”

“I am not some fragile old woman, Kodjo.”

“My apologies. I did not mean to imply-”

“That I cannot fend for myself.”

“Not at all. Only that if I were to leave my post, I would face the wrath of chieftess Tayesha.”

Ramonda cracked a sly smirk out of respect for Tayesha.

“She rules with an iron fist, that one?”

“Not as unforgiving as metal… more like Jabari wood.”

“Very well then. You may accompany me to the kitchen.”

Kodjo bowed his head with an accomplished smile plastered on his lips as Ramonda took off down the hallway toward the kitchen. He couldn’t help but notice how haughty her walk was when she wasn’t shivering beneath thin blankets. Her hips swished in the chocolate leather pants that she filled out more than he expected for a woman of her svelte frame, and she smelled of lilies.

The palace felt eerily like a ghost town to Ramonda. The halls buzzing with life just hours earlier were silent, and not a soul was to be seen.

“Did everyone go to war?”

“Most, yes. The rest are in their homes or temples praying to Hanuman for our warriors’ safe return.”

Ramonda nodded and wondered if Hanuman would hear her if she added her prayers into the mix. The more gods on their side, the better.

“The Jabari are a spiritual people, then?”

“Very,” Kodjo responded proudly, his chest puffing out just a little as he spoke.

“It seems we have that in common.”

“Yes, you lowlanders have your panther god.”

Ramonda squinted at his choice of words but kept her protests to herself.

“We do,” she replied. “I am sure that despite our separation for many centuries, there are many more similarities between our people than we realize.”

“Perhaps.”

“We are all Wakandan, after all.”

“Hmph.”

Ramonda cut her eyes Kodjo’s way and took in his grimace.

“You disagree?”

He met her gaze hesitantly, and she could see the regret in his eyes for speaking out of turn.

“Speak freely, Kodjo.”

The guard cleared his throat and took a deep breath.

“It is not that I disagree, per se. I just think that you lowlanders-”

“You keep using that term.”

“It is not meant to be derogatory.”

“It feels as such.”

“I imagine you have much harsher terms for us Jabari.”

“You imagine incorrectly.”

Kodjo sucked his teeth.

“If you say so.”

Ramonda side-eyed him as they walked in step through the empty hallways. The smell of expertly-spiced food let Ramonda know they were closing in on their destination, and shortly after, they rounded a final corner and came face to face with the royal chef Sade in her element. She twirled around the large kitchen as if she were as light as a feather, and she moved with the ease of someone who had an intimate understanding of their environment.

“You have a guest,” Kodjo announced, and Sade turned around at the sound of his voice, beaming with an infectious joy that transferred to Ramonda almost immediately.

“Queen Mother, a pleasure to have you again!” Sade sang as she placed her ladle down on the side of her stew pot and wiped her hands on her apron. “Come, sit. It is not as fancy as this morning’s breakfast, but I am sure my son explained to you-”

“Your son?”

Sade turned to Kodjo with a hand on her hip, and he shrugged innocently.

“It never came up,” he said, making Sade roll her eyes.

“Your personal bodyguard is my son, so if he is not doing a good job, let me know, and I will straighten him right out for you!” Sade said, pinching Kodjo’s muscular arm.

“Mama,” he groaned, and his discomfort made Ramonda chuckle.

“I will do just that, Sade.”

“Come, sit.” The chef ushered Ramonda to the empty table, where she couldn’t help but admire the craftsmanship of the wooden furniture. The table top was made from a huge tree that had been sliced so that all its beautiful rings were visible, and Ramonda ran her fingers over the rings closest to her as she sat down. “I imagine you must be starving.”

“I did not notice how much time had passed since my last meal,” Ramonda nodded.

“One bowl of my famous vegetable curry coming right up.”

Sade shuffled over to the stove and stirred the fragrant stew thickening in the pot. She then fluffed the rice before turning to Kodjo with an expectant smile on her face.

“How is my Tayo?”

Kodjo’s expression soon matched hers, and Ramonda felt her chest tighten as she watched his face light up.

“He caught his first fish the other day at school. It was so big he could hardly lift it from the water.”

“Why am I just now hearing of this? I would have cooked it up with some-”

“Mama, he threw it back.”

“Eh?” Sade’s head whipped in her son’s direction.

“Your grandson let the fish go!” Kodjo explained.

Ramonda smirked at his accusatory tone while Sade shook her head lovingly.

“That boy is so sweet. A true gift from Hanuman,” the chef mused while she ladled curry into a large wooden bowl.

“That he is,” Kodjo sighed with a smile.

“How old is your son?” Ramonda asked him as Sade set the bowl down in front of her. Her eyes left her bodyguard and fell to the reddish brown stew, the steam floating up and filling her nostrils with the most delicious-smelling concoction.

“He will turn six next week.”

Ramonda hummed in response as she blew on the hot stew to cool it down. As she did that, her mind wandered to her children again, and she automatically felt for the kimoyo beads on her wrist, activating her tracking bead. Her eyes were drawn like magnets to the two figures moving around the map.

At least they were moving.

“What is that?” Kodjo asked, breaking the silence, and Ramonda looked up for a moment to see both of them staring down at the hologram in awe.

“My children.”

She zoomed in on Mt. Bashenga and saw that while Shuri was still out on the field, T’Challa was on the elevator, moving from the bottom of the mines to the panther statue. Ramonda sent another silent prayer to Bast and the ancestors before shutting down the hologram and picking up her spoon to taste her dinner. The second it breached her lips, her worries took a backseat to her astonishment at the new flavors she was introduced to.

“Sade, this is phenomenal.”

“Uh, t-thank you,” Sade stammered, still shocked by the technology she had just witnessed. When she looked at her son, she noticed his eyes were wide with wonder.

Minutes passed before anyone said anything. Ramonda ate in silence while Sade began cleaning the kitchen, but Kodjo was glued to the spot staring at the beads on Ramonda’s wrist. The technology intrigued him. He had never even conceived of such a thing before, and his entire worldview had begun to turn on its head with just one visit from the lowlanders.

That worldview expanded even more when, minutes later, one of the beads separated from the others and rolled down into Ramonda’s palm, the king’s figure appearing in her hand as if she had shrunk him down and carried him in her pocket.

“Mama, it is over,” he said. “You can come home.”

What happened next changed the trajectory of Kodjo’s life forever. Until that moment, he had no more than a minor infatuation with Ramonda, but as her lips peeled back in a wide smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes, he was overwhelmed by the intense need to make her smile like that every second he could.

Kodjo’s feelings caught him by surprise. So much so that he stayed silent while he escorted Ramonda back to her room to gather her things. Not a word was spoken between the two of them while they traveled to the front of the palace and stood in the snow while the Royal Talon descended from the sky. Tayesha stood next to Ramonda, gazing up excitedly at the ship while all six of her children watched with their mouths agape.

The moment the Talon touched down and the ramp hit the snow, Ramonda took off running, meeting her children before their feet could even touch the ground. The three of them stayed in their embrace while M’Baku and his warriors departed the ship, the chief’s brood of offspring tackling him to the ground before he could plant a kiss on his wife’s lips.

Kodjo watched the joyous reunion with a hint of jealousy, longing to feel his son’s little arms wrapped around his torso.

“Kodjo.”

He snapped out of his daydream at the sound of his name and stood tall as M’Baku and Tayesha approached him.

“You have done well. Thank you for your service today,” Tayesha said, and he bowed deferentially to the two royals. “Go, rest. And give Tayo our love.”

Kodjo smiled at her kind words.

“Yes, chieftess. Thank you.”

He bowed once more to them both, but this time, when he stood up straight, he caught a glimpse of Ramonda over Tayesha’s shoulder. She was looking in his direction at that moment and nodded his way before turning and boarding the ship. That small gesture sent his heart soaring, and the goofy smile that appeared on his face tipped off the chief and chieftess to his feelings.

“You know, the king has invited me to sit on his council,” M’Baku commented with a raised eyebrow. “I would like you to accompany me on our diplomatic trips down to the valley.”

Kodjo tried and failed to hide his excitement, but M’Baku and Tayesha noticed the twinkle in his eye at the thought of seeing his favorite lowlander again. They sent each other knowing glances before herding their children indoors to prepare for bed.

Kodjo stood outside watching the Royal Talon take off and disappear into the clouds, already plotting how he could make Ramonda smile again the next time he saw her. Thankfully, it wouldn’t be long.

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