Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

"We need to talk."

N'Gamo did not question him, a rarity, but M'Baku didn't dwell on it. He couldn't; his thoughts were scattered all over the mountainside and he found it hard to breathe, to settle. He stared out the observation deck at the river valley down below but the sight no longer gave him solace. He found no peace.

Word was traveling through the stronghold. In hours, he'll be inundated with questions from his advisers about the royal family's presence, about the white man standing on Jabari earth, about the panther king. How should he answer their questions? How should he explain himself?

How should he explain T'Challa?

"There is hope, cousin," Ce'Athauna had said when the war dog—"Her name is Nakia," she later said in a very strange tone—presented the dying heart-shaped herb. That was also his first thought. T'Challa will not wither away while his cousin destroys Wakanda and brings war to Jabariland. T'Challa will become Damisa-Sarki again and save both of their worlds.

Later, after he left the royal family to their desperate reunion, he realized that he will lose T'Challa, too. How many times had he called T'Challa foolish? He was the fool for thinking there was a chance, just a chance, that he wouldn't lose the man who understands him better than most. No, he will watch Damisa-Sarki return to Wakanda from afar. He will be left with memories and a host of angry, betrayed advisers who will question his capacity to lead, to put the Jabari above all else.

It took effort, but M'Baku pushed those thoughts away for now. There was a more pressing matter to address, something he should've dealt with much earlier.

He turned when N'Gamo entered the room. N'Gamo looked to have aged decades and he walked like a wizened elder.

"Great Gorilla," he said tiredly. "M'Baku."

"What happened?" M'Baku asked.

N'Gamo held up his bracer. "Yejide had questions. Wanted to know why you turned off your communicator. They all have the same questions. They know. It was obvious what you did."

M'Baku exhaled slowly. He felt hollow and tired, but there would be no rest for him, not for a long time. "How do you think we should approach this?"

Trust N'Gamo to already have a plan. "Talk to Chinwe. He is the elder among us. He knew your iya-nla, your baba, you. Tell him everything. Convince him why what you did was right and he can sway the others." N'Gamo walked to the deck and looked out at the mountains. "Why did you call me?"

M'Baku watched him, wondering how to explain himself. The advisers were a concern but N'Gamo was his right hand, his friend. He could not afford to alienate N'Gamo when everything was in limbo.

"You were right," he began, "about Hanuman's wisdom. I should have told you the truth, but I doubted him. I could not accept his wisdom."

N'Gamo sighed heavily. "What did the shamans always say? Hanuman is not Bast. He teaches by not giving us easy answers. That is why you share his wisdom with those you trust."

"Nothing is easier to understand than telling me to help T'Challa stop N'Jadaka," M'Baku said. "Nothing is easier than telling me to come down from the mountains and help Damisa-Sarki save Wakanda."

N'Gamo said nothing. M'Baku watched him, noting the deepening frown, the baffled furrow of his brow, and the rapid blinking as N'Gamo tried to understand what he just heard.

"Did Hanuman really say that?" he finally asked.

Details of Hanuman's wisdom tended to fade away within a day, leaving behind only strong impressions of the words he imparted on his people. If his wisdom could be recalled perfectly, word for word, he had his reasons.

"Come down from the mountains, little gorilla. You have outgrown them." M'Baku spoke them slowly, distantly, as if in a trance. The words shook his bones and chilled the air. "I could not forget even if I wanted to."

N'Gamo shifted uneasily, frowning; he felt them, too, and knew they were not M'Baku's imagination. M'Baku waited for his response, knowing he deserved to wait for as long as N'Gamo needed him to. He stared down at the river valley and up at the mountains, at the stars and the satellites crossing the sky.

"I should be angry at you," N'Gamo finally said, bitterly. "I suspected that Hanuman told you something harsh, something that did not sit well with his people. But you would not tell me. You kept… avoiding the matter. Now you say Hanuman wants us to help the panther king take his throne back. Now, while the royal family is also here."

"I should have told you earlier."

"Yes, you should have. I am your adviser, your friend. If I could not advise you, I could have listened." N'Gamo smiled suddenly, bittersweetly. "I suppose you found someone else."

"Only for a little while, and I did not tell him everything," M'Baku said quietly. "Your advice always weighs heaviest on my mind. I did not tell you then and I regret it. I am sorry. I am telling you now, as both your friend and the Great Gorilla."

"Then I will tell you this. You are the Great Gorilla but you are not alone. If you decide to come down from the mountains, you must have support. From what I heard the past hour, you don't have it. You kept Damisa-Sarki a secret for too long."

"I know," M'Baku scowled. "And I will accept responsibility for it. But we are out of time. If T'Challa fails to stop N'Jadaka, we will be in danger."

"Then you are saying we should follow him into battle. We will fight for him, shed blood and tears for him. Do you know what you ask of us?"

He did. It was a reason why he refused T'Challa, why he kept reminding the panther king that Wakanda didn't deserve the Jabari's help.

"He asked me before and I told him no," he said.

"And now?" N'Gamo asked. "If he asks you right now, what will you say?"

The answer pained him but it was the same as ever. Whatever feelings he had for T'Challa did not usurp his duty to his tribe. N'Gamo was the one watching him now and his eyes were sympathetic. His words were not.

"He will regain his strength, his Bast-given powers," N'Gamo said. "He has his sister and the war dog. Ce'Athauna told me she will help him. Is that not enough? What would the Jabari gain by fighting his battle?"

A thought, an intuition, pressed at the back of M'Baku's throat. It felt like Hanuman's wisdom.

"We must be heard," M'Baku said. "Wakanda has ignored us long enough. T'Challa will hear us but he is just one man."

"And you are also just one man." N'Gamo scratched his chin, hemmed and hawed, drummed blunt fingers on his bracer. "You cannot commit until you speak with the others."

"I would rather wrestle an enraged rhino," M'Baku muttered, making N'Gamo huff with laughter.

Chinwe, the old man who knew his grandmother and father, could be convinced. Others will take time to win over, which was why it was important to talk with Chinwe first. But Bosede was the one M'Baku feared. They knew he was not entirely truthful about the cavern excavations. All they needed to do to find evidence for their postulations was juxtaposing the timing of the cavern excavations with events in Wakanda. They would realize that the Great Gorilla had endangered the Jabari for no reason other than his obsession with the young panther king.

"Be honest with Bosede," N'Gamo said. "Tell them everything." He taps on his bracer. "I'll ask Chinwe to meet us tomorrow morning-"

"Tell him to meet us now," M'Baku said. "No one will be asleep at this hour. We will meet here. I must convince him before I am ready to speak with the others."

With a nod, N'Gamo turned away to call Chinwe. M'Baku looked back at the moon crawling higher into the night sky.

It is nearly midnight, judging by the moon's position. Shuri and the queen mother are asleep in bed and Agent Ross is nodding off on the couch. T'Challa, who has more reason to sleep than any of you, is wide awake and standing on the shielded observation deck, staring out at Jabariland. He glances sideways at you and you set the withering heart-shaped herb on the wooden table you were admiring. You go to him and peer out at the night. You see moonlight on the snowy peaks, a distant satellite crossing the firmament, a cluster of village lights down below, the gleam of the river winding through the valley.

"I was supposed to be dead," T'Challa says softly. It is a hushed confession, laden with guilt. It hurts to hear. "I paid the price for protecting Wakanda's secrets but I did not die. Instead, the Jabari saved me."

"But you are not well," you say. "M'Baku said you're dying."

"He can be dramatic," he says with a strange wistfulness. "I will heal but slowly and that is time I don't have. Thank Bast you came when you did."

"What were you going to do if I didn't?" you ask.

He doesn't look at you. "I was going back to Birnin Zana anyway. I did not yield and I am clearly not dead, so he will have to challenge me again. Enough time for the doctors to look me over and heal me."

You look at him from head to toe. He is softer around the edges and wherever there's bare skin, there are scars. His face is more hollow than you remember and he looks wan even in bright moonlight. You reach out to touch his face and he sighs, closes his eyes and leans into your palm. He feels cold.

"You would've died," you say. "And this time he'd make sure of it."

"I wouldn't have just sat around waiting to start the challenge," he argues. "You think I wouldn't have spoken to Okoye? Ayo? My mother? Your father?"

Oh Bast. Of course he'd have a plan in place, a way to win even if he didn't survive. But that all hinged on him making it back to Birnin Zana alive and you can tell from a glance that he wouldn't have.

He knows it, too. "I had to try. What kind of man would I be if I didn't?"

"Then it is a good thing I am here," you say. "A good thing I saved the last herb and thought to bring it to the Jabari."

"You were always better at this," he admits. "I never would've thought to find them and ask for help."

You shrug. The solution was apparent once you realized what you were up against. "I needed an army. Besides," and you choose your words carefully now, "M'Baku made it obvious that he is interested in Wakanda's future. Why else did he come down from the mountains to challenge you? It made sense to think he would want the herb."

"You are not wrong." He isn't looking at you anymore. It is telling.

You curl your hand against his stubbled jaw and coax him to look at you. He is hesitant and wary, uncertain. What happened between him and M'Baku?

"What happened while you were here?" you ask.

He doesn't say but you don't need him to. It is in in his eyes, wistfulness and regret you hadn't seen since you told him you were joining the Hatut Zeraze. You suddenly remember catching a glimpse of it in M'Baku's face when he brought you to the door. He knew what it meant, what he would lose once he opened it.

Your chest hurts. You don't know if it's sympathy or jealousy and you hope it's the former. T'Challa had always teased about sharing a future again and you knew how easy it would be to cross back over the line, but the past weeks have transformed you both. Whatever is on the other side isn't for you anymore. You can live with it—you made your choice when you left on your first assignment despite his pleas—but it still hurts to breathe. It still hurts knowing what you no longer have.

Your silence speaks volumes to T'Challa. His hand clasps around your wrist and his smile is slow and sad. "Dying has a way of changing people, and so is getting a second chance to make things right. Wakanda's relationship with the Jabari is one. Another is the apology I owe you. I should have taken you seriously when you told me Wakanda was strong enough to protect itself and help others. I was close-minded and foolish. I'm sorry."

"I would have changed your opinion eventually, but thank you." He huffs a laugh at your cheek and you smile. That isn't exactly what you wanted to hear from him, though, and he knows it. "You haven't answer my question."

"About that," and he looks sheepish, reminding you of your early days together. "I apparently become… terribly fond of people who have no problem telling me off for my mistakes. He's also given me a chance to bring the Mountain Tribe back to Wakanda."

"A chance you should take," you say. "Whatever you do, T'Challa, know that I love you and that you have my support—within reason. And that I would've made a great queen." You get a brilliant smile, a bright spark in his eyes, and it's easier to breathe. "You know it's true."

"Wakanda will benefit no matter what you do," he says. He looks more relaxed, more at ease with himself and around you. "Only you would have found a way to save us. Thank you."

You kiss him, gently and with as much love as you can convey. You wrap an arm around his waist and he leans into you as you watch the moon and the Milky Way and the golden village lights in the river valley, breathing in tandem, sharing warmth and silence. You commit this moment to memory, this stillness, this quiet before the storm. The moon makes steady progress across the sky before the queen mother stirs and calls for the both of you.

"It's time," T'Challa says and slips away.

It will never stop hurting. He still smells the acrid smoke. His mouth still tastes bitter with ash. His ears still ring. His arms still tremble with the weight of his father's body.

It is a weight that grew with each revelation, with each truth about the burdens of kingship, the responsibilities that came with ruling Wakanda. It is a weight he can no longer bear because it is tainted, stained with his uncle's blood, his cousin's lost childhood, the numberless faceless bodies sacrificed to protect Wakanda.

It is time for Wakanda to change. The panthers that came before him stare back silently, expressionless, but he sees something in his baba's face. His sorrow is leavened by pride.

You are king now. Save Wakanda.

The last thing he remembers are twin shapes looming over the Djalia, larger than the faint shimmering silhouettes on the horizon. A great black panther stares down at him with purple eyes and a murky white shape laughs soundlessly.

N'Gamo watched him all morning and thought he was doing so discreetly. M'Baku ignored him while speaking with angry advisers, knowing he wouldn't say anything until they were done. He was glad Ce'Athauna wasn't here, or else she'd be voicing N'Gamo's mind in between the meetings. She'd be asking him for his thoughts about the long night.

As suspected, Chinwe was wide awake despite the very late hour and came to M'Baku's private quarters immediately when summoned. The old man had sat down without prompting and stared between them. His face was a weathered visage, time carved into his dark skin like the mountainside, but his eyes were sharp like a carrion bird’s. They darted between M'Baku and N'Gamo, assessing the situation.

"Explain yourself, M'Baku," he had finally said and so M'Baku did. He talked for over an hour, apologizing for yet justifying his actions, but he knew he had won over the elder when he mentioned his second visit to the sanctuary.

"I will not dispute Hanuman's wisdom," Chinwe said afterward, "nor should anyone who follows his ways. If he believes our future lies with the young panther, then so be it.

"But," he added when M'Baku began to relax, "you should not have held secrets from us. We are Jabari. Deception is unbecoming and potentially dangerous. You know this. You will answer for it when this matter with the usurper king is over."

"I know," M'Baku said with a grimace. He had seen N'Gamo standing off to the side, whispering furiously into his communicator, and knew this would be the easiest conversation of the long night. "Thank you, Chinwe."

"You still have many others to convince, young gorilla," the old man said and left.

Kayode was now the one sitting in the chair, twirling a braid between her fingers while considering M'Baku's explanation. She was the seventh adviser of the morning, and had arrived with a furrow between her thick eyebrows and an unimpressed frown. The furrow deepened and the frown became a scowl as he talked, and when he was done she asked, "Have you talked to Bosede yet?"

He held back a frustrated huff. "I have not."

She nodded slowly. "Great Gorilla, I came here out of respect for who you were. I see now that you have yet to regain that respect."

"What do you mean?"

"Do you remember when you first announced you would challenge Damisa-Sarki for the throne? Some of us thought you were foolish to want such a thing. If you became king, what would you do at the head of a people who follow Bast, who worship her precious metal?"

"I would've shown them our might. I would've shown them Hanuman's wisdom."

"But to what end?" Kayode asked. "You said you wanted them to acknowledge us. You wanted them to remember that we are here. And then what? Were we to continue living in the mountains or did you plan on bringing us to a city away from them?"

"What would you have preferred?" M'Baku asked.

She folded her arms tightly. "What could Wakanda possibly offer that we don't already have?"

She thought too much like Bosede. M'Baku sighed inwardly. "The world is changing. That is something no one can control. We can adapt to the changes but how quickly? What about the people already suffering?"

"We have solutions-"

"The people will be overwhelmed. We know this." M'Baku hemmed and hawed over his next words. "We cannot solve these problems on our own. Not anymore."

"I do not believe that," Kayode said. She rose to her feet. "Convince Bosede, then I may also be convinced."

After she left, M'Baku sat down heavily at the foot of his bed and dragged his hands down his face. He was tired and frustrated, and had no one to blame but himself. If he had told them right after the patrolmen brought T'Challa's body to the stronghold, he would not be in his current predicament. He would not be trying to salvage what confidence his advisers still had in him.

But if he had told them from the beginning, they might have suggested letting the panther king die; he lost his kingdom, after all, and the Jabari had no obligation to keep him alive. What would they have done when the white gorillas came? What would they have said when the war dog and the queen mother offered M'Baku the heart-shaped herb?

"You are in luck," N'Gamo suddenly said. "Bosede was called away to mediate a dispute between two villages. You have time yet to devise an approach."

"And yet I still dread it," M'Baku said. He kneaded his brow. "Any word from Ce'Athauna?"

"Not yet," N'Gamo said. "They are probably still recovering from last night."

Since she was tasked with keeping an eye on the royal family, Ce'Athauna was the one who contacted M'Baku after Chinwe left. She told him the queen mother requested a place to perform the ritual that gave the Black Panther their powers.

"It must be done tonight," Ce'Athauna had said, "or else the plant dies."

"What sort of place do they need?" M'Baku asked.

Ce'Athauna took a few seconds to respond. "… well, they need to bury him for this to work."

His first thought was the courtyard with its deep snow and N'Gamo suggested it to Ce'Athauna. Then his thoughts wandered back to the grove of Jabari trees and the rich earth underfoot and the bittersweet taste of T'Challa's mouth, and he said, "The mountain grove."

"M'Baku-" N'Gamo began.

"Nothing more fitting than Bast's chosen being reborn at the roots of Hanuman's tree," M'Baku said in a tone that invited no argument. "Ask them what else they need, then meet us there."

Now, the mountain grove showed no signs of being witness to a Wakandan ritual but M'Baku still glanced at a certain spot between the roots of the oldest tree while talking with Yejide about her current project. Even with the turmoil surrounding Damisa-Sarki's presence in the stronghold, life went on in Jabariland.

"I called on Chinwe after our talk," she said casually while examining the leaves of her experimental plants. "One can choose to ignore the wisdom of Hanuman himself at great cost, but I must know that we will not lose our way if we return to Wakanda."

“I will make sure of it," M'Baku said firmly. "It was also Hanuman who said we must be heard. Now, explain how this particular strain can survive floods."

After Yejide said she wouldn't have results for another season, he and N'Gamo left the grove. N'Gamo was scanning the adviser's report on his bracer while M'Baku stared at the light globes placed in the crevices of the corridor, recalling T'Challa's sister's baffled expression when she saw them. He grinned to himself at the memory and turned to tell N'Gamo about it when Ce'Athauna called.

"Cousin." She sounded weary. "Damisa-Sarki wants to speak with you. Are you busy?"

He glanced at N'Gamo. "Send him to the throne room. And get some sleep. Someone else can take watch."

"So should you. Sounds like a toad crawled down your throat," she said and ended communications.

"He must want something," N'Gamo said while they veered down a different hallway. "Does he dare ask for more aid? He knows your answer. Can't he respect that?"

"He has no choice but to try." M’Baku spotted Kayode and Uzoma, another troublesome adviser, waiting at the entrance to the throne room. "What do they want?"

They wanted to discuss a matter involving the fishing villages, something that usually demanded attention and deliberation. While N'Gamo argued about the timing of their desired meeting, M'Baku's mind went elsewhere. He couldn't stop wondering how he'll answer if T'Challa asked again for help.

There was only one answer M'Baku could give; the Jabari leadership was in turmoil over his actions and agreeing to give aid regardless of how they felt could spell his end. Moreover, however things changed between them, he could not forget nor ignore centuries of Wakandan indifference towards the Jabari. He could not offer Jabari men to Damisa-Sarki's cause.

It hurt no matter how he justified his answer.

"-does the Great Gorilla say?" Uzoma asked sharply.

M'Baku straightened in his seat. He glanced between the advisers and an exasperated N'Gamo. He couldn't tell if the man was annoyed with him or Uzoma.

"If the reports of declining catches are true, then we will look into it," N'Gamo said when he continued to be silent. "But that cannot be now. The matter with the panther king must be resolved first-"

"What sort of matter?" Uzoma pressed. "That he is standing on Jabari soil or that the Great Gorilla decided on his own to harbor a dethroned king? How long must we wait before he stops thinking about Damisa-Sarki and starts thinking about his own people-"

"Enough," M'Baku snapped. He knew exactly what the adviser was trying to accomplish. "You may speak to me later in private about the villages' grievances. But right now, the future of Jabariland is at stake."

"At stake? We have lived apart from Wakanda for centuries already. We will continue without them-"

He was getting a headache. It throbbed behind his right brow and he pressed his fingertips to the spot. "We are done for today."

N'Gamo stared at them until the advisers finally left the room. M'Baku did not miss the look Kayode gave him. It promised future troubles.

"This wouldn't have happened if you bothered to pay attention," N'Gamo remarked once they were gone. "You could at least act like you care."

"You think I don't?"

N'Gamo sighed. "They do not know what we know. If you want to convince them, then act like they matter. All you are doing right now is proving Uzoma's point." He dragged a hand over his scalp. "Damisa-Sarki has been nothing but trouble since he washed up in that fisherman's nets."

M'Baku could not protest it. He settled in his carved throne and waited for T'Challa to arrive. He looked at the polished branches of Jabari wood hanging from the stone ceiling and realized that T'Challa had never been here before. What sort of impression would this throne room make on him?

N'Gamo's bracer lit up. "He is here."

He sat up straight as the doors opened and Damisa-Sarki walked in. He was seeing T'Challa for the first time since last night and had forgotten how the ritual, the rites, changed him. How it transformed him into the panther king, the Black Panther.

M'Baku knew the details of the ritual and had turned his back to the small gathering at the roots of the oldest Jabari tree out of respect. He glanced at his cousin, who had done the same even though she brimmed with curiosity. He had looked up at the night sky through the canopy, listening to the queen mother's whispered chants to Bast and letting them lull him into a mindless trance.

A sharp gasp told him it was over. He and Ce'Athauna turned as one to see the Black Panther, Damisa-Sarki, emerge from his shallow grave, brushing dirt off his unmarked skin with practiced ease. He didn't just look stronger and healthier; he carried himself differently, with an otherworldly grace that hinted at Bast's gift flowing in his veins.

"At least Hanuman doesn't ask us to bury ourselves alive for a couple minutes," Ce'Athauna said lightly.

M'Baku only hummed in response. He couldn't take his eyes off of the panther king because T'Challa was now looking at him. Damisa-Sarki's eyes were bright and sharp and knowing, and they unsettled him. He held his breath until T'Challa finally looked away.

"Stay with them," M'Baku told Ce'Athauna. "Make sure they have everything they need."

"Yes, of course," she said. She was staring at Damisa-Sarki, too. "Imagine if you had won the fight-"

M'Baku shuddered at the thought. "I'd rather not."

He noticed the war dog Nakia watching him as he left the grove. He didn't know what to make of the curious frown on her face.

She wasn't here now. The royal family and the white American were also absent. It was only the panther king, strolling into the throne room, head held high and hands clasped behind his back. Sunlight gleamed on a necklace around his neck. They looked like vibranium teeth, or claws. Fitting for a panther, M'Baku thought.

Despite his slender build and lack of bulky armor and furs, Damisa-Sarki commanded all attention in the throne room. Everyone was watching him but he looked only at M'Baku.

"Great Gorilla," he said. He glanced at N'Gamo and the guards in the room. "I wish to speak with you alone."

A surprising request. M'Baku nodded and gestured to N'Gamo to dismiss the others. T'Challa waited until the last person left the throne room and then approached the dais.

"I heard some interesting things earlier today," T'Challa began. "Not directly, but Ce'Athauna spent all morning arguing with people about me. I did not realize how… controversial it was keeping me alive."

"They're angry because I told them nothing about you until your family showed up," M'Baku said.

"While I'm grateful to be alive," the panther king said slowly, "I want to know why you did it. Why did you?"

M'Baku shrugged. "I was not in the mood to explain myself. I am not very popular with them now, but they will live with it."

T'Challa smiled. "How do the Jabari put up with you?"

"Hanuman only knows, though he may have also grown tired of me," M'Baku replied. He waited until T'Challa stopped laughing before saying, "You said you wanted to see me."

"I did." T'Challa looked around the throne room while stepping closer to the dais. "I must commend whoever designed this room. It is impressive. Everything points to the view of Jabariland… and you."

"I am the Great Gorilla." M'Baku arched an eyebrow. "Well?"

"We are leaving at noon. Nakia thinks there isn't much time left before N'Jadaka strikes. Ce'Athauna tells me there is a way to reach Mount Bashenga undetected. Is that true?"

"It is the same way we surprised you at Warrior Falls," M'Baku replied. "You might want to ask your war dog about it. I'm surprised they didn’t have eyes on them during your coronation day."

"I see." T'Challa brushed his fingers over a polished Jabari branch with a thoughtful expression. Then he shook his head and looked at M'Baku. "I ask that my mother be allowed to stay here until it is safe to bring her home."

It was a reasonable request. M'Baku nodded. "She will be safe, I promise."

T'Challa took a step forward. He hesitated, pressing his lips tightly while pondering his next words.

"I could also use an army…."

They both knew his answer, but M'Baku still laughed. "You could… but no."

"I had to try," T'Challa said wryly. He stepped up onto the dais with the ease of a panther. His eyes were on M'Baku and they held his complete attention. "I wanted to thank you. You have done more for me and Wakanda than we deserve. Whatever happens after, I want you to know that the Jabari will not be forgotten."

"Don't worry, this won't be the last time you hear from us," M'Baku said. His mouth dried as T'Challa took that one step from the edge of the dais to his seat, standing much closer than anybody else would ever dare. "Any other requests you want to try?"

"Just this." T'Challa leaned in and his hands cupped M'Baku's face. They were much warmer and stronger than expected, and they held M'Baku still while T'Challa kissed him. It was brief and gentle and fierce, and they were breathless when T'Challa pulled back. He pressed his forehead to M'Baku's and softly said, "I'm sorry we did not have more time."

"Yet I am glad for it," M'Baku replied. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't stop thinking about the request he made yesterday, a foolish request made by a foolish man. I do not want us to be forgotten. "Don't do anything foolish."

T'Challa was smiling as he stepped off the dais. "I fight for my people with only my sister, Nakia, and your cousin at my side. Is that not the very definition of foolish?"

M'Baku waited until T'Challa left and then sat back in his seat, dragging a hand down his face and willing himself to breathe, to be calm, to get a hold of himself. It would be just minutes before N'Gamo returned and he didn't want his friend to look at him differently, to know too much. But N'Gamo would know anyway. He always did.

N'Gamo entered the throne room. He looked at M'Baku reproachfully, searching for clues to explain what the private meeting was and how it concluded.

"So. What did he ask?"

"Permission for his mother to remain here with us until he defeats N'Jadaka," M'Baku replied evenly. He sat forward, clasping his hands. "I agreed to it."

N'Gamo nodded once, slowly. "Is that all?"

No. "Yes. Where is Ce'Athauna?"

"In the armory. Why?"

"I am considering our odds," he said, "if Damisa-Sarki fails and her identity is discovered."

N'Gamo understood immediately. "The latest report says the mud should be cleared away by the end of the day. Shall I send word to move the caches?"

"Yes. We must be ready for anything," M'Baku said and rose to his feet. His part in T'Challa's story was over but he had his own to carry out. "Is Bosede still playing mediator between the two villages?"

"Others learned they were visiting the valley and requested their presence. It may be hours before they return."

He sighed. "Then let's go see Uzoma."

Queen Mother Ramonda asked to speak to the Great Gorilla in the evening. It was inevitable, and he tried not to speculate on the reason why while walking through the hall. He squared his shoulders before entering the throne room. It was, he thought as he sat down and surveyed the silhouettes of the Jabari branches before him, the perfect place to have a conversation with Wakanda's queen mother.

She entered a minute later. She was a striking woman, regal in ways that reminded him of his iya-nla and mother; she was graceful and poised but brimmed with command and power. She did not look down at the ground as she crossed the room to him and her steps were precise and certain. She regarded him coolly and then nodded in acknowledgment and deferment.

"Great Gorilla. M'Baku," she said. "Thank you for allowing me to remain here in your mountains."

"It is the least I can do," he replied. He waited for her to speak but she chose instead to look over his shoulder at the moonlit mountains behind him. "Queen Mother. You asked to see me."

"I was just admiring the view. You certainly know how to capture your guest's attention." Her gaze finally fell back to him. "You did Wakanda the greatest service by saving my son's life. Yet you believe that is all you can offer. I do not and neither do you."

He arched an eyebrow. "Bold words for a guest of the Jabari."

"I am old enough not to care," she declared with a smile. It slid off in the next second and she looked away, eyes full of grief. "I am old enough to weather tragedies without buckling under the weight. I thought I lost my son but he was here all this time, alive. I am in your debt."

"There is none. He spared my life and so I returned the favor," M'Baku said. He thought about the cold body in the back of a fisherman's wagon and the flutter of a pulse under his fingertips. "You cannot ask more of us. We have done enough."

"It will never be enough. That was why you came down from the mountains that day. Everything you did was to prove a point. If you do not plan to go away, then you are not finished."

What was she saying? "That is true. We, the Jabari, will not be silent-"

"He told me about Hanuman's gift," the queen mother continued softly. "He told me Hanuman believes it is time for the Mountain Tribe to come down from the mountains. Yet you refuse to help him. Why? Is it because we had done nothing to earn your trust? Is it because you fear your feelings for my son will lead you astray? Or are your people telling you to ignore your god's wisdom to spite ours?"

He stared at her. "Queen Mother Ramonda-"

"I know what I saw," she said, "and I know you bear many burdens. He will not be one of them, if you let him. And even if you don't, are you and the Jabari not also Wakandan?" She looked out at the snowy peaks. "Remind your people of that. Tell them your mountains will not protect you forever. Reconsider your decision. Help my son save Wakanda."

Her eyes lingered on his for longer than he felt comfortable with. Satisfied with what she found, the queen mother turned and left the room. He didn't exhale until she was gone and then he sank into his chair. His burdens sat so heavily on his shoulders and chest. They would not let him breathe easily.

She knew how to strip away the last excuses, the last shreds of doubt. He found no argument that could withstand the wisdom of her words. She was right, after all; the Jabari stood apart and yet was a part of Wakanda, and whatever happened to the nation will happen to them. Regardless of how his advisers felt about T'Challa, the previous panthers, vibranium, and the centuries of indifference, they could not ignore the threat at their doorstep.

When Damisa-Sarki comes down from the mountains, follow him.

He tapped on his bracer. "N'Gamo."

"M'Baku. Did she ask you to help Damisa-Sarki?"

He looked over his shoulder at the rising moon. How much time already passed since Ce'Athauna led T'Challa, his sister, and the war dog out of the mountains? "Summon the other advisers. I must speak with them."

N'Gamo was silent for a long moment. "… first, we will speak."

He ended communications without another word and M'Baku sighed while lowering his arm. He could only imagine what his friend would say. He could imagine how it would look. And if the others caught wind of his meeting with the queen mother? He rubbed circles over his right temple until N'Gamo arrived.

He went straight to the dais, looked M'Baku in the eye, and asked, "Are you sure about this?"

M'Baku arched an eyebrow. He had expected another short speech about panthers and angry advisers. "You have nothing else to say?"

N'Gamo sighed and looked at the polished Jabari wood gleaming in the moonlight. "What else is there? Our fate has become entwined with Wakanda's, though one could argue they have always been. We spent years saying and living otherwise but these past weeks have… shown that is no longer the case."

M'Baku sat back and considered N'Gamo with new eyes. "Of all the people to say such a thing…."

"I had time to think. I had time to accept that perhaps we should have a greater say in Wakanda's future, and I would rather we choose how and when to return to it," N'Gamo said. He smiled. "It is the Jabari way, is it not? And with you as Great Gorilla? It should be spectacular."

M'Baku grinned. "We shall announce ourselves so loudly that even the gods will watch. We will seize the battlefield and prove indispensable. Impossible to ignore."

"You still need to convince the others," N'Gamo said dryly. "You still haven't talked to Bosede. They approached me after you left to meet with the queen mother. They wonder if you are hiding from them."

He scoffed. "Says the one who spent all day in the valley mediating the pettiest disputes. Fine. I will talk with Bosede first."

Bosede had always been a challenging person. They came from one of several families that tended to Hanuman's gift through the centuries, and so they saw the Jabari way as paramount to the tribe's identity and survival. M'Baku's father was inclined to listen to Bosede's advice; M'Baku, not so much. This meeting regarding Damisa-Sarki and M'Baku's deception should be spectacular for all the wrong reasons.

M'Baku was not in his seat when Bosede walked into the throne room. He was observing the play of moonlight on a silvery Jabari branch and turned around when Bosede tapped the ground with their knobkerrie.

"You wished to speak with me, Great Gorilla." It was not a question.

"I did—since this morning. But I heard you had matters to attend to and chose to wait." He strolled to the front of the dais, hands clasped behind his back. He eyed Bosede, searching their sharp face. "We have a little time before I call in the others."

"I know. I also know that you met everybody else this morning. I confess that I went down to the villages when I did on purpose. I did not want to face you so soon after the revelation that you harbored a deposed king in secret." Bosede was not broad-shouldered like the others but they were taller and their dark eyes glanced down at M'Baku. "You do not regret your deception."

"No." Bosede did not react. "I kept quiet to prevent word from getting out. The fewer who knew about Damisa-Sarki, the better it was for all of us."

"You did not trust us."

"I trusted no one who wasn't already present," M'Baku said tactfully. "I saw no reason to inform more people until the time was right. From what I heard about the outsider sitting on the Wakandan throne, I made the right decision."

Bosede pressed their lips tightly. "Fine. I accept that. But tell me this, Great Gorilla—was I right about the excavations at the southern caverns? Did you know about the nature of King N'Jadaka and continue to keep us in the dark?"

He grimaced. He'd hoped that Bosede wouldn't bring it up and further reveal what he willingly did to hide T'Challa's presence. "It was not my intention. I prepared for the possibility based on information Damisa-Sarki gave me, but he was here for a week. He did not know everything that was happening in Wakanda."

"But he knew enough to inform your decision to investigate, which led to the discovery of the mudslide." Bosede shook their head. "If your baba was here-"

"He is not. I am." M'Baku drew himself up to his full height, bringing him to nearly eye-level with his adviser. "If you believe I am no longer competent, issue your challenge. But I know you talked to Chinwe. What did he tell you? What did he say about Hanuman's wisdom?"

"That Hanuman told you it was time for us to come down from our mountains and join with Wakanda," Bosede replied, making a face like the words tasted bitter. "You went to him twice and he told you both times. You could not interpret his words any other way."

"And what do you know about King N'Jadaka?" He turned to look at the snow-topped mountains behind him. "If he is not stopped, he will either conquer us or his war will draw outsiders to our mountains. That will devastate us. And if these outsiders learned about the Jabari wood… I did not know what was upon us when I decided not to tell you about King T'Challa. Now we both do. Our fate is tied to his, Bosede, and I will not see the Jabari fall."

He stared at Bosede but they would not be swayed yet.

"Do you realize what it is you ask of us? What we will lose if we bow before the panther king? What becomes of Hanuman's gift? What becomes of his wisdom, his sanctuary? What becomes of the Jabari, our people, our ways?"

Be their voice. Make Damisa-Sarki listen. The Jabari will not be forgotten again.

"You know why I challenged T'Challa," M'Baku said. "You know how long we watched from the mountains while Wakanda slowly lost their way. Is this not our chance to be heard? Our chance to remind them of who we are and who they used to be?"

"I know Damisa-Sarki asked for our men. You are willing to spill blood in his name?"

"And in ours. We are Jabari and Wakandan. We will help save Wakanda and bring our wisdom to them." M'Baku took a deep breath. "But it is because of what I ask that I won't commit without unanimous support. Many eyes are on you to make your decision. What do you say?"

Bosede finally dropped their gaze. They gripped their knobkerrie tightly, knowing that they had once again been driven into a corner.

"You still have much to answer for, M'Baku," Bosede said quietly, tiredly. "Deception is unbecoming of a Great Gorilla, even if Hanuman looked the other way."

"I am aware. I will answer for it in due time."

They squared their shoulders and looked at him. They looked unhappy but their words were music.

"We will make ourselves heard. Summon the others. Tell them that I stand with you."

M'Baku paid a visit to the queen mother. Despite the late hour, he knew she would be awake; who could sleep when the mountains were alive with warriors congregating at the stronghold's armory? Queen Mother Ramonda stood at the observation deck, watching Jabariland without really seeing but hearing everything and knowing why.

She did not turn to see who her visitor was.

"We are leaving within the hour," M'Baku said. "A trusted adviser will remain to watch the mountains. You will be safe here."

She exhaled.

"Thank you."

Shuri meets him in the ruins of her lab. Glass shards litter the floor and blast marks scar the white walls and murals, but she isn't lamenting her losses. She cradles damaged panther-shaped vibranium gauntlets in her arms but drops them when she sees him. He has to step over the overturned workstations and broken equipment to reach her. Her smile wavers with relief and exhaustion and he feels the same.

"Brother," she says and T'Challa envelops her in a hug.

The weight of the past days and weeks come crashing down on their heads and they sink to the floor, holding each other tightly, crying for what they lost and what they had to fight for. It's over now, and he can’t remember ever feeling so weary and so relieved.

"What happened?" Shuri eventually asks. She picks up a piece of glass and turns it this way and that, observing the shatter pattern. She tosses it and looks at him. "Is he…?"

T'Challa shakes his head. He isn't ready to talk about their cousin yet.

"What about you? Are you hurt?"

He huffs tiredly. "I should be the one asking you. Are you?"

"I'll feel better after I clean up this mess," she says but her attempted exuberance falters. She rubs her hands and wrists while staring at her dropped gauntlets. "You came just in time. If you were even a second late…." She then leans forward to touch a vibranium claw embedded in his suit. "It kept you safe."

"You kept me safe," T'Challa says. "If you hadn't brought it with you, things would've gone very differently. What about the others? Are Nakia and Okoye…?"

"Nakia got hurt but she's fine. Insists it's just a scratch." Her mouth twitches like she's withholding laughter. He arches an eyebrow. "I'll explain later. Honestly, Brother… anyway. Okoye talked W'Kabi into standing down and ending the whole fight. Agent Ross is intact, which is good news for me since I can't fix anyone with my lab like this. Ce'Athauna is fine, and a bit mad."

"Why?"

"Something about M'Baku showing up with a bunch of men without telling her first."

What? He stares at her, dumbfounded. After everything M'Baku said…. "The Jabari came?"

"Oh yes. The Border Tribe had us all surrounded and then the next thing I knew, M'Baku was there shouting about the 'might of the Jabari' or something and they broke through the shield wall." She taps her chin. "Wonder what Mother said to convince him." She then glances at T'Challa when he snorts at the thought. "Or maybe he had another reason."

"You know how convincing she can be," T'Challa says. "Besides, I asked M'Baku several times before and he refused every time. What makes you think his reasons for coming here have anything to do with me?"

She shakes her head in disbelief. "An agent from a foreign country was ready to die for us. What does that say about you, hmm? Why are you selling yourself so short?"

He rolls his eyes while getting to his feet. "I am not and it is not what you think." He holds his finger up when she opens her mouth. "First, I need your help with something."

T'Challa and Shuri leave her lab to a breathtaking vivid sunset piercing through the dissipating smoke from the crashed dragonflyer. It seems like half of Wakanda is on the Great Mound. The Dora Milaje and Jabari warriors stand guard over the disarmed, silent Border tribesmen and their war rhinos. Okoye and M'Baku are on the steps of the mine entrance, flanking a solemn W'Kabi while waiting for his arrival. T'Challa's heart aches at the sight of his old friend and all that they lost since his return from Busan empty-handed. Few will forgive the First Shield for what he did, and he knows it.

Okoye sees T'Challa first. She calls out to the other Dora and then kneels. "My king."

Almost everyone, from the defeated Border tribesmen to Nakia and Ayo to a very tired and rumpled Agent Ross, kneels. The Jabari remain standing, waiting for M'Baku's cue. And M'Baku, well, he is waiting for T'Challa's. Everyone watches him walk up to the Great Gorilla, who returns his gaze coolly and gives nothing away.

"M'Baku," he says. "I did not expect you and the Jabari to return to Wakanda so quickly."

"We heard you were in trouble," M'Baku replies readily and gestures to the kneeling Border tribesmen, "and seeing how an outsider had sown discord among your people, we thought it better to interfere than watch you struggle."

"Their timing was most… fortuitous," Okoye says skeptically while rising to her feet, "but they swayed the battle in your favor." She presses her mouth tightly, considering her next words. "War dogs in Hong Kong, London, and New York City are waiting for their next orders. The longer we wait, the greater the risk of outsiders discovering the vibranium weapons that were already shipped out."

"Recall them now. Bring back all weapons. Nothing must be left behind."

Now comes a most difficult conversation. He steels himself and turns to W'Kabi. His old friend remains kneeling, eyes on the ground, unable to meet his gaze.

"Old friend."

"My king," W'Kabi replies hoarsely. "I am responsible for what happened today. These men only followed my orders. Do not condemn them."

"I understand why you stood with N'Jadaka," he says softly though his words still carried down the slope from the mine entrance. His chest constricts at the painful memory of W'Kabi walking N'Jadaka into the Citadel and holding up Chanda's ring as proof of N'Jadaka's heritage. "I wish I can understand why you interfered with the challenge. I wish I can understand why you thought N'Jadaka was the only answer. How can anyone trust you after this? How can I?"

"You cannot," W'Kabi says, "and I am sorry to have lost it."

"That's all you have to say?" Shuri mutters. "Sorry for breaking the rules of the challenge but not for supporting N'Jadaka because killing a man is all it takes to be king-"

"Shuri," T'Challa says sharply.

She glowers at W'Kabi. "You shouldn't be the First Shield anymore."

"The Council will decide that," T'Challa says. "Okoye, tell them—no, I will tell them. I will tell everyone what happened here. Wakanda deserves to know the truth."

He raises his wrist and taps a bead on his new set of kimoyo beads, connecting it to every communications device in Wakanda. Even the Jabari's bracers light up and M'Baku looks at a smug Shuri in surprise.

"It's working, Brother," she says softly.

T'Challa nods and clears his throat.

Nothing King N'Jadaka did contained the protests for long. Here and there, people gathered in open spaces to call out the Border tribesmen and Dora Milaje in their midst, demanding answers to the news that the new king was stockpiling vibranium weapons and searching for war.

In a small town north of the seat of the Merchant Tribe, the Dora found themselves defending the protesters from the Border tribesmen in the town square.

"You would disobey your king?" a Border captain demanded of the Dora captain who was holding him at bay with her spear.

A few of the protestors were bloody and bruised from the sudden brief altercation. Many more were recording the scene with their kimoyo beads.

"I disobey anyone who disrespects what the throne stands for and who the throne protects," she replied coldly. "Back away, Sipho. Do not force my hand."

"You sound just like the general. So blind to the dangers around us for the sake of traditions. You think he doesn't know who you're really fighting for? Dead panthers won't save you, Aneka. They will only make your banishment certain-"

Gasps spread throughout the crowd behind the Dora captain. A signal interrupted the recordings and kimoyo beads glowed purple. Aneka and Sipho lowered their weapons and glanced at each other warily, knowing exactly what it meant. Everybody knew what it meant.

The king was broadcasting to every corner of Wakanda.

A group of protesters linked their beads, generating a large projection for others to see. Gasps and cries of shock and joy rippled through the crowd when the projection revealed a dead panther's face. Sipho hung his head in shame while Aneka slowly smiled.

"Border Tribe," King T'Challa announced. "Stand down. Cease all fighting. Listen to me.

"I, T'Challa, son of T'Chaka, did not die when N'Jadaka cast me down during the challenge. I did not die and did not yield, therefore I was still king. When I returned to finish the challenge, the First Shield interfered. He will answer to the Council for his actions, but he asked me not to punish the tribesmen who followed his commands. I ask that you lay down your shields and return to your homes and families. It is over, and I am king.

"Wakanda, you were right to suspect N'Jadaka. He believed he had been wronged by the world and wanted to use us to make the world answer for their crimes. As you know, Wakanda does not wage war… but we are guilty of inaction. We spent too long hiding from the world, allowing so many to suffer in order to protect our vibranium and our way of life. That was why N'Jadaka returned. That is why we must change."

The king turned his gaze elsewhere and people began whispering when they caught a glimpse of Jabari warriors standing among the Dora.

"Wakanda has been through much… turmoil this past month, more than you deserve. You know now the crime my father committed to protect us. You have seen the consequences. It never should have happened, and it never will again.

"We must learn from this. We must understand that the world is growing smaller and our way of life cannot continue as is. We can no longer be ignorant of our place in the world. We will change. We must change, before the world changes us. And we will do it as one people, as one tribe. It is how we will survive."

There is a little time to talk while the Border tribesmen turn their weapons over to the Dora Milaje and Shuri combs through her destroyed lab. Shuttles are flying in from Birnin Zana with medical personnel and members of the Hatut Zeraze on board. One shuttle will take Ayo and Ce'Athauna to the mountain stronghold to bring back the queen mother.

There is a little time to talk so T'Challa takes Okoye aside and asks how she is faring.

"I am fine," she says calmly. She is lying. There are lines in her face and her smile is a brittle shield. "I should be asking you."

"You were here. You watched over the throne and the people while I was gone. You kept Wakanda safe."

"I tried," she says. "Bast knows I tried. But there was only so much I could do. He had W'Kabi's ear and the Mining Tribe-" She presses her lips tightly. Politics has never been her strongest suit. "They were… lenient to his demands. If N'Jadaka had his war, that meant more vibranium and they have the mines."

"It makes sense," T'Challa says slowly and with a grimace. "And the others?"

"They knew what war meant. They tried to explain but N'Jadaka was... he did not understand. He was an outsider, what did he know? But W'Kabi." She sighs. "I know why he did it, and he is not the only one. Many in the Border Tribe are tiring of playing pretend for the rest of the world. They are tiring of how the world sees us. They want a stronger leader and don't believe you can be."

"The world is catching up," T'Challa says softly, though his heart sinks at her warning. He glances at the huddle of subdued Border tribesmen being attended to by medics. The sullen glower on their faces is telling. "It has been weighing on my mind this past week."

"A week in Jabariland," Okoye notes with an arched eyebrow. "I'm surprised they allowed you to stay."

"They may not like us but they aren't heartless. I was dying and they owed me for sparing M'Baku's life," he says. He tries not to look for the man, knowing how keen Okoye's eyes are. "They have agreed to come down from the mountains."

Her other eyebrow rises in surprise. "No panther has stepped foot in Jabariland in centuries, and you convinced them to rejoin Wakanda in one week?"

"I can be persuasive," he says mildly.

She rolls her eyes. "Do not remind me."

The corner of his mouth twitches in a smile, recalling their youthful misadventures. His new kimoyo beads thrum with Shuri's call. She asks him to meet her down in the lab and so he and Okoye part ways.

The sun is sinking below the horizon when he finally returns to Birnin Zana. The city shows no ill effects of Agent Ross's dogfight with the rogue dragonflyers but the city doesn't look as golden and bright as he remembers. Something is amiss but he doesn't see any reason for it.

"What is it?” Okoye asks when she notices him peering out the window with a deep frown.

"Did something happen in the city while I was gone?"

She thinks on it and then shakes her head. "Nothing you don't already know. Why?"

Perhaps he is imagining things. Or, a voice whispers, I am seeing Birnin Zana with new eyes. "It is nothing."

As T'Challa watches from above, a crowd gathers in the square in front of the Citadel, kimoyo beads glowing brightly. They are recording every moment, he realizes. He looks at the others as the shuttle lands, anticipation and dread rising in his throat, and Shuri has to prod him to move. People call out to him as he strides past, still in his panther suit, and then their voices sink into baffled murmurs and shock at the sight of M'Baku, two Jabari warriors, and Agent Ross following him, Shuri, Nakia, and the Dora Milaje.

"Aren't they… why are the Jabari still here? What do they want?"

"A white man? Is this how it ends?"

Members of the Council wait for T'Challa on the steps of the Citadel, wearing grave faces. They didn't bother with ceremonial robes or presentation. They greet him quietly and with deference, though T'Challa notes tension in the eyes of the Border and Mining Tribes' leaders.

"Thanks be to Bast that you are alive and well, my king," says the matriarch of the Mining Tribe.

He watches her carefully, recalling Okoye's informal report. "It was not just Bast but also luck and the Jabari." He steps aside so they can see M'Baku watching and listening from below. "They saved my life and came to our aid when the battle was against us. They have agreed to stay."

Her eyes widen. "Do you mean…?"

"Yes."

The Council glances at each other worriedly, obviously remembering the encounter at Warrior Falls a lifetime ago. T'Challa braces himself.

The matriarch of the Merchant Tribe steps forward, her old sharp eyes studying M'Baku. "After all the Great Gorilla said about us on your coronation, they are willing to come down from their mountains and join with the rest of Wakanda?"

"We will come down from them when needed, iya-nla," M'Baku suddenly says and with a flash of teeth. "It seems that right now, we are needed."

The old woman leans forward on her cane. "You are not wrong. This is a vulnerable time for Wakanda. We will need all the help we can get."

"I agree," Nakia's father says. "The months to follow will be difficult as we recover. I welcome the Mountain Tribe home with open arms."

T'Challa glances at the leader of the Border Tribe, W'Kabi's uncle. The man seems to shrink as he says, "The Border Tribe has lost your trust, my king. I have no opinion worth giving."

"That is a discussion for another day," he says, clasping the man's shoulder. He is careful not to let his claws prick through the vibranium-enhanced cloak. "You should go see W'Kabi."

"Not just yet. He can remain alone with his thoughts for a while longer." The Border Tribe's leader then narrows his eyes at Agent Ross, who is attempting to make himself look as small and unassuming as possible. "How do you explain him, my king?"

"That will also be addressed later," T'Challa says patiently, mindful of the gathered crowd. "First, I must know everything that happened while N'Jadaka was king, starting with his actions at Necropolis. Yes, I know what he did to the gardens. How did it come about?"

Night falls as T'Challa slowly regains control over Wakanda. Nakia helps him find and personally order every deployed war dog to return with the shipments. He warns them to leave nothing behind; it was, after all, what opened the door for N'Jadaka.

"Where is Akili?" T'Challa asks at one point. The Hatute Zeraze's commander is noticeably absent when he should also be here helping bring the war dogs home. "I need to speak with him."

"He was sent north to help deal with the protests," Okoye says. "N'Jadaka's orders. He did not appreciate Akili's… attitude."

"I wish I was there to see that," Nakia murmurs while scrolling through a report from Hong Kong. "Here. The last dragonflyer to Hong Kong left two days ago with thirty cases of…."

Nakia once told T'Challa that Wakanda was strong enough to help others and also protect itself. He wasn't convinced but that was before he ran into someone who suffered directly from Wakanda's decision to hide from the world. Convincing others that he plans to enact new policies reflecting this drastic change in perspective will be difficult, however, and he readies himself for the long fight ahead.

"Greater transparency in government will not solve these problems," W'Kabi's uncle says. "The king makes difficult decisions every day to protect his people—not that your father's decision was the right one, even if he believed it. You must realize that not everything you do will be well-received-"

"I am aware of that," T'Challa replies more harshly than he means to. He imagines he must look intimidating while still clad in the vibranium suit and uses it to his advantage. He looks around at the other advisers. "But I know how the unrest began. I also know why W'Kabi chose to support N'Jadaka, and why so many of his men did not hesitate to interfere with the challenge. Are these not microcosms of a greater problem?"

The older man flinches. He does not meet T'Challa's steady gaze while asking, "And how do you intend to accomplish this without compromising Wakanda's security?"

"We will work something out," T'Challa says with tired patience. "Not right now, but soon. But we are no longer pretending that we are not who and what we truly are. There will be a conference at the U.N. headquar—"

His kimoyo beads suddenly vibrate, alerting him to a message from Shuri.

"Brother, Mother is here."

Hours tumble one after another until the moon is high in the sky and everyone is too weary for words. T'Challa feels it viscerally, having borne the brunt of the past month, and starts swaying where he stands while explaining once again that Agent Ross isn't a threat to Wakanda. The heart-shaped herb, no matter how potent, can't weave coherent thoughts for him.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath to collect himself. "It has been a very long day," he tells the Council. His tongue is heavy and dry from speaking for too long without rest. "We'll continue this tomorrow. Agent Ross will remain under guard and in isolation until we decide how he returns to America without giving too much away."

The Council looks unconvinced but they are also too exhausted to continue arguing in circles about the beleaguered CIA agent. One by one they leave the throne room until only Okoye and M'Baku are left. Okoye looks as skeptical as Nakia's father did and keeps grimacing to herself while deciding what to say. M'Baku, meanwhile, has wandered over to the tall glass panes to look out at Birnin Zana's golden lights.

"Agent Ross has been here for over eight days now," Okoye finally says. "Akili lied to Ross’s superiors that he was in recovery and sent them falsified medical reports. Eight days may be enough to convince them not to look too deeply but you know what they are like. They may still be mobilizing to extract him as we speak."

He rubs his dry eyes. "Then arrange for Ross to make contact. You know the protocols."

"He'll need a cover story that can fool the gods."

"I am aware." He stifles a yawn. "Let's discuss this later."

"You look awful," she agrees. She glances at M'Baku and then gestures to the other Dora in the room. "Sleep well, my king."

"Good night, Okoye."

T'Challa waits until the doors close and then turns to the windows and the tall broad silhouette standing before them. He wonders what M'Baku is waiting for but thinks he can already guess it. He walks slowly to the windows, feet padding silently over Wakandan dirt, wood, and metal. "Enjoying the view?"

"Did you know that on clear nights, you can see Birnin Zana from the mountaintop?" M'Baku muses. "It's a golden glow on the ridge, almost like a second sunrise. When I was little, I wanted to see it with my own eyes. Now I am here and… eh, it is all right. Is it always this bright at night?"

"No city ever truly sleeps."

He traces the skyline with his eyes. He can't see the stars like before, back in that room in the mountain stronghold overlooking Jabariland, and he can understand why M'Baku finds the city a bit underwhelming. To him, however, Birnin Zana is home and the city lights are their own stars in the sky.

He starts swaying again and his vision blurs despite his best efforts. He glances sideways at M'Baku and sees fine lines of exhaustion in his face; the Great Gorilla isn't faring any better. They both need rest. "How long do you intend to stay here?"

"For as long as we are needed," M'Baku replies. He quirks an eyebrow. "Are you that eager to be rid of me?"

"Just curious. I'm surprised your other advisers haven't called you in a panic, thinking you'd given yourself over to Bast without telling them first," T'Challa says and his heart thumps at the amused huff from the man next to him. "You intend to stay for all the meetings?"

"Yes. I will stand in the back, looming over the others and reminding them that we are always watching," M'Baku jests, though with none of his usual flair. He sighs and turns serious. "I know about our sister tribes. I do not know them. I do not know what it means to be a part of the Council, what it means to both advise and lead. So, I will stay here and learn."

T'Challa smiles, grateful for the effort M'Baku is willing to put into this. "There are guest suites. I know one that faces away from the city, if the lights bother you. I can also arrange one for Ce'Athauna-"

"She is with the others . I need her there to keep everyone calm in case people get ideas," M'Baku says. "Why don’t we take a walk through your halls, Damisa-Sarki?"

The Citadel halls are unusually quiet even at this late hour and M'Baku's footsteps echo loudly. T'Challa notices him glancing out the windows at the cityscape and at the artwork decorating the walls. A few of the pieces in this hall were picked by T'Challa's mother who found the artists' daring interpretations of traditional motifs, imagery, and themes inspiring. He wonders what M'Baku thinks of them.

T'Challa's kimoyo beads thrum and he raises his wrist to see Shuri's weary face. "Brother, where are you?"

"Taking M'Baku to one of the guest suites." He scowls at her arched eyebrow. "Don't you start. It's nothing like that."

"What? I didn't say anything," she replies. Her eyes narrow while searching his face. "You need to sleep. You look terrible."

"I feel terrible," he admits. "How's Mother?"

Shuri looks somewhere over her shoulder. "Tired. Sleeping. Nakia was here earlier. Fell asleep in one of my chairs waiting for you so I told her to go home. She said she'll be here in the morning to help you with Agent Ross. Something about staging a call to his bosses?"

"Can't have them getting too suspicious when we're not ready," he says. His mind wanders to the quiet conversation he had with Nakia the other night. "She never stops, does she."

"Is that a question or did you forget you were talking halfway through it?" Shuri asks. "Brother? Hello, are you there?"

He blinks rapidly and realizes he is standing in place. He glances over his shoulder; M'Baku is gazing at a mural imagining vibranium’s explosive arrival in abstraction while being watched by a bemused guard.

"Yes, I am here," T'Challa says. "Go to bed. It's late."

She scoffs and rolls her eyes. "How old do you think I am?"

"It doesn't matter how old you are. I'm your brother and your king, and I'm telling you to go to bed."

She rolls her eyes. "Bast save me from his tyranny. Fine, I'll sleep." She moves to end communications, has a second thought, and then loudly says, "Don't wear him out, M'Baku!"

"Shuri-" T'Challa hisses but she just laughs in his face and ends the call. Face burning, he glances over his shoulder again at M'Baku and the guard; M'Baku looks mildly amused while the guard is desperately pretending not to be there. "Pretend you never heard that."

The guard actually nods before escaping down the hall, leaving them alone. For his part, M'Baku just strolls up to T'Challa with a knowing smile. "I grew up with Ce'Athauna. You think I don't know what it's like?"

"She seems so much more mature," T'Challa replies with a sigh.

M'Baku laughs. "Only because she is older than your sister." He glances at the kimoyo beads around T'Challa's vibranium-clad wrist. "She says I will need them if I'm joining the Council."

T'Challa tilts his head, frowning. "When did she tell you that?"

"While we were in the shuttle. She claims our bracers lack certain capabilities. Should I tell her it only takes a few modifications for these to function almost exactly like your beads?" M'Baku taps his bracer thoughtfully, seemingly unaware of the traces of dried blood still on it.

An argument is sure to be brewing over competing technologies. T'Challa supposes it is inevitable, but he's not about to have Shuri and M'Baku fight over it. "We can discuss this later, but she is right. It will make our lives much easier if you agree to use them."

"I did not say I'm refusing them," M'Baku says. Taken aback, T'Challa stops walking and turns around to stare. "Your sister alluded that accepting them is apology enough for what I did at Warrior Falls."

"So you're taking it back."

"No. I meant every word I said that day," M'Baku replies. "But this is a new Wakanda and I know it will be difficult changing the way things are. If kimoyo beads will help you, then I will use them."

A Jabari tribesman—the Great Gorilla himself, no less—using vibranium tech sounds patently absurd, but M'Baku is utterly sincere and it is suddenly believable. T'Challa is relieved that there won't be a problem and his steps are lighter as he continues down the hall to the guest suites.

"How much further?" M'Baku asks around a stifled yawn.

"It is not far," T'Challa replies. He looks up and down the hall, then spots a particular door. "This one."

Though well-maintained and well-stocked, the guest suites are rarely used except for specific occasions and so this particular wing of the Citadel is always quiet. This suite consists of a foyer, a receiving room, a fully equipped office, a bedroom with a balcony and a view, and a bathroom. Light panels along the wall and on the ceiling glow as soon as T'Challa opens the door and then adjust their brightness to the time of day.

"This is a much better view," M'Baku declares. He strides past T'Challa to the windows and peers out at the stars high above the dark hills surrounding Birnin Zana. "Are we facing south?"

"Towards Mount Bashenga," T'Challa says. He joins M'Baku and looks down at his golden city. "Does it suit you?"

"Yes." M'Baku looks south towards the Great Mound and Jabariland. "This will do, Damisa-Sarki."

"Are we no longer on a first name basis?" T'Challa asks, amused and a little disappointed. It is strange hearing the old name within these walls, stranger still that M'Baku is saying it even though they're the only ones in the entire wing. "Are things already so different now that I am king again?"

M'Baku shrugs. His smile is uncertain as he folds his arms and his gaze turns back to the city. "I don't know yet."

You doubt. Why?

But T'Challa can think of a few reasons why. He is about to change Wakanda, undoing centuries of tradition and culture built around protecting their great secret. It will not be easy—it will be very difficult, judging by the various reactions from the Council—and no one knows if he'll succeed. It will be a turbulent time for Wakanda, and difficult for anyone to commit to anything until the dust settles. Bringing the Jabari back to Wakanda will also draw too much attention to them, creating a potentially fraught situation that could drive them apart and stress the currently delicate relationship between the tribes.

Being so acutely aware of the risks and consequences of one's actions is a burden T'Challa now truly understands. It is one M'Baku has lived with for years. T'Challa can't fault him for hesitating even after his declaration in the mountain grove two distant days ago. What they share is still new and malleable and easy to snuff out without hard feelings. That is not what T'Challa wants.

"They don't have to be so different, you know," he says softly. He watches M'Baku's face in the window's reflection as he speaks. "I need someone who doesn't see things the same way and isn't afraid to speak up."

"You are surrounded by people who have no trouble telling you that," M'Baku says flatly and with an arched eyebrow. "Don't think I wasn't listening."

"You're the Great Gorilla. Your people are the Jabari. You grew up in the mountains, guided by Hanuman's wisdom. You offer a different perspective, something we need. Something I need."

He can't read M'Baku's face. It worries him. It gnaws at his mind, his lungs, his heart.

"Are you saying this as king," M'Baku says slowly, "or as yourself?"

What worries you? What is making you hesitate? He searches and searches his thoughts but nothing stands out, nothing comes to mind—besides that book N'Didi lent him to occupy his mind. People retreat to their old ways when faced with the unknown. Is that what's making M'Baku doubt?

"I say it as both. You would understand that better than most." He sees M'Baku relax in increments, sees him slowly uncross his arms and exhale slow and steady. T'Challa takes a deep breath and echoes a sentiment spoken in the shade of great Jabari trees. "I don't want to lose this. We are both better for it, I think. We have become better people."

M'Baku snorts. "Most of mine would say otherwise. When I return to Jabariland, it will be to a reckoning... but I will face it. I will face everything they say even if I am forced to step down." He turns to T'Challa. "You are worth the risk."

"I… didn't know it was that serious," T'Challa says, alarmed. "If you are no longer the Great Gorilla-"

"They will have to deal with Ce'Athauna, and I know my advisers like the idea of her being the Great Gorilla even less," M'Baku says and his smile is all teeth. "They're stuck with me."

T'Challa rubs his brow tiredly while M'Baku laughs. "I can't believe you."

"You are far too tense and serious this late at night." The bright mirth in M'Baku's eyes suddenly dims and he is a serious, solemn man. He reaches out and his callused hand caresses the side of T'Challa's face. "But I mean what I said. You are worth my people's anger. You are worth the battle we fought in your name. You are worth coming down from the mountains—twice. You see us. You hear us. It is… it means more than I can say."

T'Challa sighs and leans into M'Baku's hand. He aches for the gentle touch, for the company of another person, for someone to lift his burdens for a little while. He needs it after this long, terrible day.

"I will continue to listen, I swear it," he murmurs right before M'Baku leans in and kisses him.

There is time now and M'Baku takes it, kisses him slowly and deeply until T'Challa is breathless, mouth numb and toes curling. When M'Baku draws back to breath, T'Challa chases his mouth and returns the kiss, leaning forward and up and sliding his hands along the man's face to hold him close. He is careful about his vibranium claws but when he drags them lightly over the back of M'Baku's head, M'Baku shudders out some unintelligible curse and drags T'Challa flush against him.

They stumble away from the window. T'Challa follows M'Baku without thought, so wrapped up in the kisses, the weight and heat of large strong hands curving around his vibranium-clad body. He collides with the bed and it takes a dizzying breathless second for him to realize it. It takes several more seconds for him to speak.

"It's late," he says against M'Baku's mouth. He sounds so hoarse and dry from weariness and from the kisses, from the large hands tracing the lines of his panther suit. "M'Baku. Tomorrow is another long day. I'm sure you need rest."

T'Challa steps back but M'Baku stills him with a hand on his shoulder. They know he can easily pull away but he doesn't. He doesn't want to.

"Where are you going?"

"My rooms are elsewhere," he says. "Where did you think I was going?"

"Nowhere. Panther king or not, I can knock you over with a flick of my fingers," M'Baku says, curling his thumb and middle finger against each other. "Wherever you are going, you won't get far. This bed, however, it's available."

T'Challa looks at it. The bed is large and low and the most inviting thing in the world. Still. "And what are you going to do?"

M'Baku has the audacity to roll his eyes. "Sleep. What else, foolish king?"

"I hope you don't call me that in front of the others, especially in front of Okoye and especially in front of my mother."

"I will never embarrass you in public unless you deserve it," M'Baku says seriously.

T'Challa is the one rolling his eyes now, but he will probably take M'Baku up on his offer. He did want to see his old rooms again but they are so far away and now that he's not preoccupied with Wakanda, he can feel his exhaustion, the bone-weary ache that can bring him down with a feather or the flick of a finger. A bed will help him much more than crawling into the nearest available room and falling asleep in a dusty chair.

"And it would be nice not to be alone tonight," M'Baku admits quietly. His thumb strokes the side of T'Challa's face, tracing the curve of his cheekbone and lulling him. "I'm not the only one thinking that, am I?"

He isn't. The night will be full of memories and T'Challa doesn't want to relive them alone. He could if he must, but tonight is the kind of night to seek companionship and M'Baku is offering it.

"No, you are not," T'Challa says. He looks at the lights of Birnin Zana outside the room, the golden glow on M'Baku's face, and leans forward to kiss him.

"I will stay."

T'Challa walks down the curving ramp to Shuri's lab. Fully half of it has been converted into a greenhouse; rows of wilted plants sit under lights, surrounded by machines reading the soil content, the spectrum of light on the shriveled leaves, the humidity and temperature of the air. Shuri stands just outside the structure, wearing a white coat, hands jammed in her pockets. She is frowning mightily for someone who had just returned from another trip to their fledgling outreach center. She turns to him sharply as soon as he clears his throat.

"Brother," she says and nods to a workstation on the other side of the lab. "I need your arm."

"What for?"

"I need a sample of your blood again. Roll up your sleeve," she says, beckoning impatiently. "I have an idea."

He does as told. The needle mark smooths over two seconds after she withdraws it from his arm and he rolls his sleeve back down while she stores the vial of blood and places the syringe in a sterilizing unit.

"Well? What did you need it for?" he asks when no explanation is forthcoming.

"I was thinking about that plant the Jabari healers used to save you," she says while sliding her chair over to another workstation. "Traces of it should still be inside you. I wasn't looking for it the other three times but Dr. Ayanda gave me an isotope that tags vibranium particles. If I can't find it in your blood, I may need your bone-"

"Shuri."

She sighs and points at the greenhouse. "Look at them. Just one short trip to Oakland and they're all dying when I get back. They can't survive in the soil." She then gestures at several stacks of books and a pile of scrolls on another table. "Three days at the university library looking for anything from Bashenga's time, and what do I have? Nothing."

"Our archeologists and paleontologists have nothing to say?" T'Challa asks. He leans on the table and flips through the pages of a book. "Is this a transcription of a Bashenga story? And it says nothing about the herb?"

"It's like playing a game of kimoyo beads with time," she grumbles. "The trouble is with the soil composition at Necropolis. Something about the concentration of vibranium particles there is poisoning those plants instead of-"

"I know, I know," he says before she could launch into yet another rant about mastering horticulture in less than a month for this one frustrating purpose. "So what about the Jabari plant?"

She whirls around in her chair. "Think about it. When you—when you fell, you must've suffered fractures, broken bones, punctured lungs, internal bleeding. All that on top of what N'Jadaka did to you. Burying you in the snow would've kept you alive for a while but that plant, whatever was in it healed the worst of your injuries. No lasting damage."

"Except I wasn't getting better, remember?" His hand twitches, wanting to touch his left side. There is no scarring and no pain, but sometimes he feels the deep gouge N'Jadaka left behind. He grimaces and curls his fingers tightly instead.

"But you weren't getting worse," she counters. "You were stable. That's a start. Who knows, maybe that plant was some forgotten subspecies and introducing it to the Necropolis soil will mutate it into a usable variant of the heart-shaped herb. Maybe-"

"How long will that take?" T'Challa asks. It is the most important question, more important than whether or not there will be another Black Panther to protect Wakanda after him.

Her expression becomes subdued. "I don't know. I need a living plant and Ce'Athauna says they still don't know how the white gorillas came across it. Maybe it's their food source? I've seen them. It could explain why they are white, larger, and stronger than other gorilla subspecies."

He rubs his chin, thinking. He knows how sacred the white gorillas are to the Jabari and will have to broach the subject with M'Baku very carefully. The Mountain Tribe is still restive over their new "alliance" with Wakanda and asking to track the gorillas in their sacred forests could create more trouble.

"I know it is asking a lot," Shuri says when he doesn't say anything, "but we are talking about Wakanda's future. Surely he'll understand-"

"That's not what worries me," he says tersely. "It is the real reason why we must recreate the heart-shaped herb as quickly as possible."

"Not as quickly. Mother is quite happy for you to go unchallenged for the throne for however long it takes to regrow the gardens."

He glances around the lab. "There will not be another N'Jadaka."

"And if we do this right?" she asks, glancing over her shoulder at a nondescript locked door off to the side.

"I can't be the Panther forever," he says wryly.

He looks at the door, too. He knows what's behind it, can recall every detail perfectly because nothing within it changed since he drove that dagger into his cousin's chest and ended what their fathers started.

Shuri frowns. "If you tell M'Baku…."

"I am not hiding this from him. Tomorrow, I will ask him for permission to search Jabariland. And I will tell him the truth."

She sighs and shakes her head. She turns her chair around and pulls up a screen. "That won't go well."

He smiles tightly, thinking about a Wakandan sunset and N'Jadaka's final request. "No, it will not."

A fisherman found a man standing at the edge of the river.

Amadi brought his buffalo-drawn cart to a stop at the foot of the road. A man stood on the riverbank, watching the first rays of the sun touch the white peaks guarding Jabariland. He wore a thick brown coat in the Jabari fashion but under that were the refined dark clothing of a Wakandan. Amadi frowned; he knew of the periodic visits by Wakandans to the mountain stronghold but didn't think anyone would come down to the river where he made his quiet living.

"Can I help you?" he asked. His buffalo snorted impatiently and he patted her muzzle to calm her.

"I understand you made an unusual catch here a month ago," the Wakandan said. He spoke thoughtfully and there was care in each word. "A dead man, carried here by the river from the north."

"I did," Amadi replied. "He was the Wakandan king. He was taken to the Great Gorilla and Hanuman saved his life."

"Hanuman would not have saved him if you had not found him, malume," King T'Challa said, turning around to regard him with warm eyes and a kind smile. Amadi could not look away; he was a regal young man dressed in purple and black with a necklace of vibranium claws on his collar. He stood ankle-deep in mud and didn't care. "Wakanda stands united and strong because you found me."

Amadi didn't know how to greet him and so he bowed his head. His hands clutched his buffalo's lead rope tightly as he said, "I only did what was right."

"And I thank you for it," the king said. He strode out of the mud onto drier land and clasped Amadi's bony shoulders. "Glory to Hanuman, Amadi."

Amadi only dared to raise his head after King T'Challa walked past him and up the sloping path back to the main road. He looked over his shoulder at the panther king, Damisa-Sarki, and then up to the Great Gorilla watching them both. He swallowed hard, uneasy with so much attention paid to him and yet warmed by the simple show of gratitude.

"Glory to Bast, my king."