Chapter Text
T’Challa, something in her whispered quietly as she looked down at the baby boy cradled in her arms. The newly born prince had been left unnamed for three days; her husband, as loathed as he was to leave her side, had to attend to matters of the nation so he entrusted upon her the great responsibility to name their son. No inspiration had struck until now. No name had sounded right. Ramonda had spent three nights tossing and turning in bed trying to come up with a name worthy of a prince. None, until now, and she was sure it came directly from Bast herself. T’Challa, that voice again whispered, now more insistently.
T’Challa, future King of Wakanda, she thought to herself, smiling. The infant reached up to her face with one arm untucked from his blanket, cooing softly. So far, he had been nothing but a quiet baby, and although it relieved her that there were no sleepless nights as of yet, it also concerned her that something might have been wrong with her son. Upon seeing him now though, moving delightedly as if he had heard her saying the name, she knew that was not true. Far from it, actually.
“T’Challa,” she said softly, adjusting him to rest in the crook of one arm and bringing up the other to caress his face. The boy cooed again. “You like that name, don’t you, Little T’Challa?”
“What is this? Do I hear a name for our son?” She smiled as she turned around to regard the newcomer in the room, her husband, the infant still tucked comfortably in her arm.
“You heard right, my husband,” she replied affirmatively.
“T’Challa, was it?” he asked as he approached them, genuine curiosity written on his face. “What gave you the thought?”
“Oh, nothing,” she waved him off with one arm, now turning back around to put their son in his crib. “Maybe it was Bast.”
“Bast, eh?” T’Chaka stood next to her, watching as she bent over the crib to secure the baby blanket around the child and then pressing a kiss to his forehead. He brought a hand down into the crib and caressed the baby’s cheek with his forefinger. Ramonda watched the loving gesture with a full heart; she had no doubt that the man before her would be a great father and King.
“The name had only come to me just now,” she admitted, slightly sheepish. “I was thinking about how you gave me this task of naming our child and I wanted it to be perfect, a name he will be remembered by and -”
“And what a name he will be remembered with,” T’Chaka reassured, a hand raised to stop her from further rambling. “T’Challa,” he said as if he was testing the feel of the name on his tongue, his eyes now gazing upon their son. Their son who still had his eyes wide open, looking at them through his long lashes. “Now why won’t you go to sleep?” her husband asked teasingly to their son, mouth set in a cheeky grin.
Ramonda rested a hand on her beloved’s arm, the two of them looking adoringly at their child. “Perhaps he is intrigued with his new name,” she remarked. “It is about time that he has one. His friend in the Border Tribe already has one, after all, and he was only born yesterday!”
“Ah, yes, young W’Kabi, isn’t it? I have not had the time to look in on them. How are they?”
“As well as they can be, T’Chaka,” she said. “Healthy and happy.”
“That is good news,” he nodded. He looked at her inquisitively. “And you?”
“What?”
“Are you happy?” he inquired, a small smile teasing at the corners of his lips.
She smiled. Of course she was. What more could she want? A loving husband and a newborn child. Her family. And she told him as much. “Yes,” she said sincerely. “I have someone who loves me and whom I love in return, a son who I strongly believe will grow up to become a good man, a good leader, a good King and protector of Wakanda.” She paused, looking her husband in the eyes, searching, only to find that he was looking at her with just as much intensity and earnestness. “A son who will be loved by all.”
“And if he doesn’t become the man he has the potential to be? If he becomes a wayward soul, enticed by the dangerous outside world? If he rejects his legacy and choose to live a different life?” T’Chaka challenged. He was testing her and she knew it.
“Then I will still support him if he chooses to lead a different life and guide him if he is led astray,” answered Ramonda with all her heart. “And I will love him just the same. I am his mother and he is my son and nothing, I repeat, nothing will change that.”
Her beloved’s face quickly changed into that of a bright smile at her answer. “And this is why I love you, Ramonda,” he said, his voice filled with adoration.
“And I love you,” she replied in kind. She gazed down at the bundle in the crib. Their little bundle of joy had fallen asleep amidst their discussion. “And I love our son. Our T’Challa.” She looked at her husband then.
“Wakanda’s T’Challa.”