Chapter Text
The week before T’Challa’s tenth birthday, his mother had sent him off in search of the meaning of the word ‘beautiful’, the deadline being the day of his birthday itself.
“I know what it means, Mama,” he had scoffed. “It means pretty.” His mother had shook her head and told him to go and find another meaning.
And search he did. For the next few days, after his lessons had finished for the day, he spent most of his time in both the public library and the palace library, dictionaries and books upon books of classic English and Wakandan literatures laid out in front of him. Not that he understood even a quarter of the things he read, but whenever he found a new definition of the word, he would go to his mother and read it out to her, all from his superb memory.
“No, T’Challa,” his mother would say in their native tongue, Xhosa. “Go back and keep searching.”
This mission his mother had sent him off proved to be a distraction for him from all his birthday preparations. While he never truly cared much for his birthday celebrations (as they often reminded him of what he had and what other children did not and it made him feel guilty), he was ever-curious of what new things would be bestowed upon him by his parents as they had promised him that each new year, the older he got, the more things he would learn and be privy to.
“As preparation for you to be King in the future, my son,” explained his father when T’Challa had asked him once.
The day before his birthday, his mother still not satisfied enough with whatever meaning he found of the word ‘beautiful’, W’Kabi had finally joined him in the public library, sitting down relaxedly beside him with his legs stretched out in front of him, watching curiously as his friend concentrated on completing his assignment, sitting cross-legged with his tongue sticking out while he held a large, thick book (that looked to be about five hundred pages long) in his lap.
“Can’t you just ask someone else to find it for you?” asked W’Kabi exasperatedly. “You are the Prince, you know.”
“I can’t, W’Kabi,” T’Challa replied, eyebrows furrowed, eyes still glued on his book. “No shortcuts for a King.”
“I said you are the Prince, not the King. Give it a break, T’Challa. Your birthday is tomorrow!”
“So?” T’Challa asked offhandedly.
“So you should be having fun!” exclaimed W’Kabi, soon after receiving a stern hush from a passing librarian. “Sorry,” he said meekly.
When T’Challa did not reply, W’Kabi had finally had enough and slammed the book shut without permission, earning an indignant yell from his royal friend.
“We are going,” he said seriously, looking T’Challa in the eye. “I have been wanting to play with you for days, but you’ve been in the library reading books!”
“I need to find it, W’Kabi!”
Letting out a sigh of annoyance, W’Kabi yanked him up by the hand and led him out of the library, deftly ignoring the scathing looks thrown by the librarians, all the while grumbling about “stubborn princes” and “being kids and having fun”.
To say he was curious as to where W’Kabi was taking him was an understatement. Judging by the direction they were going in, past the path that led to the Border Village (where he had assumed his friend was going to take him), there was nowhere else he could think of going to. The places they usually occupied were the fields of the Border Village or the various parks scattered throughout the Golden City, but at this time of the day, a little late in the afternoon, schoolchildren littered the parks like there was no tomorrow.
When he had finally inquired about their destination, his best friend barked out a laugh.
“Now that is a surprise!”
The surprise turned out to be the river that ran along the River Village. T’Challa had only come here once before, two years ago, with his father when the man had insisted on bringing him around Wakanda to get to know each of its inhabitants. The River Tribe and their village were the last they visited that day. Needless to say, even while only having seen it once before, the river was still as majestic as he remembered.
When he looked further up, however, he was mesmerised by how beautiful the sight before him was. He froze.
At the very edge of the river sat a young girl around their age, feet idly splashing the cold water, clothed in green garments that could only belong to the River Tribe. Her short, curly strands of afro hair was cute, he thought. Promptly, he blushed crimson red when he realised he was staring. Open-mouthed. Thankfully though, a quick glance towards W’Kabi told him that his friend did not even seem to notice his brief moment of unprofessionalism.
“-Nakia, a new friend I made while you were holed up in the library!” declared his friend enthusiastically.
When he glanced back towards the girl, Nakia, she was walking up towards them with a smirk on her face. All his relief was dashed in that second. She knew.
“Hello,” she said, voice strong and sure. None of that high-pitched voice girls tended to adopt when talking to him, the Prince.
“Uh, h-hi.” Maybe he was the one with the high-pitched voice this time around.
“Nakia,” she said by way of introducing herself. He also felt as if she said, “because I know you were not listening to W’Kabi a moment ago.”
“Yes,” he nodded dumbly. W’Kabi snickered.
“You are supposed to tell her your name, are you not?” He glared at his friend before turning back towards the girl.
“T’Challa,” he said weakly. “My name is T’Challa.”
“I know, Prince T’Challa,” laughed Nakia. “Everyone knows who you are.”
“Oh.” T’Challa scratched his head, hoping that he would somehow walk into a tree and lose all his memory of this encounter.
W’Kabi, after a moment of assessing his friend, announced that the three of them should sit together by the river and get to know one another. Or better yet, play until they had to go home. Nakia agreed while T’Challa went along with them silently.
That night, just as he was about to sleep, his mother entered his room and sat down at the end of his bed, shooting him looks of curiosity.
“Are you not going to tell me what new meaning you found today, T’Challa?” she inquired.
He sighed. Suddenly, after meeting the River Tribe girl earlier today, the word ‘beautiful’ had taken up a whole new meaning for him that no literature book or dictionary could have ever taught him.
“Beautiful knows no bounds, Mama,” he said profoundly. “You want to look at them all the time, but you cannot because something bad will happen if you keep staring at them.” At that, he suddenly blushed. Even without the light, she could make out the faint traces of red on his cheeks.
She grinned. This was an incident she needed to know of. Regardless, she still made sure to correct her son. “Not all the time, my son. Sometimes seeing something beautiful is a good thing. It makes you happy,” she said. “When I saw you for the first time, I was so happy I cried. Your father too, when all the doctors and guests had left and it was only the three of us.”
They shared a smile before he kissed her goodnight and went to sleep, a small smile playing on his lips as he sighed happily.
When she left her son’s room, Ramonda summoned one of the Doras that was assigned to follow T’Challa and keep him safe. “What happened today?”
“He met a girl from the River Tribe, Your Highness, while he was out playing with the Border Tribe boy.”
The two women shared a knowing smile. A beautiful thing was happening in Wakanda and were they glad to be witnessing it first-hand.