Work Text:
Once upon a time, there lived a young princess. She lived in a secret land, in a prosperous city, in a palace filled with the love of her family. She was a smiling child, basking in the love of her mother and father. She would be usually found running around the palace with her cousin, the crown prince. Both children were happy, because their families were happy. Their fathers were close brothers, their mothers the best of friends. Young T’Challa and K’Mona grew up like siblings, always concocting a prank or game that filled the palace with their childish laughter and the stern warnings of their mothers. For the young royals, the palace of the Golden City was a happy place to be. They had naught a worry in the world, for they knew the legendary black panther would always watch over them. Once upon a time, young princess K’Mona believed that the black panther was a kind protector. She would soon find out that protection didn’t apply to her.
The princess had lived a happy life. It all changed one day when she was five years of age. She was once again playing happily with her cousin in her room. Little K’Mona was especially happy, because her father was scheduled to come back that day. He had been working with the War Dogs, a team of special warriors to the princess’ young understanding, for the past ten months. She missed him. Both children were playing with their toys when they heard a commotion in the living room. They huddled at the room’s door, which had been left ajar. They peeked through the crack to see what was going on. They saw as their mothers’ tea was interrupted by a worried king. The kids were too young to understand everything the adults were saying. They didn’t know what phrases like going dark and cutting off communications meant. But with a terrifying feeling sinking bitterly in her stomach, the princess understood one thing with perfect clarity; she wouldn’t be seeing her father that day. She didn’t know it yet, but she would never see him ever again.
The next year passed slowly for the princess. Wherever she went in the palace she would get confusing looks that made her feel as if she had done something she shouldn’t have. But she took care to be a good girl and a perfect princess, so her dad would stop punishing her and come back. No matter how good she tried to be, it wasn’t enough. Her mom would still be worried and sad, her aunt would still drag her cousin away from her and her uncle would still not let her tag along at story time. The stories of panthers and sacred mounts were only told for her cousin now, far away from her ears. K’Mona didn’t know what she did wrong. Every night she would cry herself to sleep hoping someone would tell her what her mistake was, so that she could fix it. And then everything would be like it was before. Happy and warm and right. That never happened.
A year after her father had disappeared, her uncle banished her and her mother from the palace. They didn’t know what had happened to her dad, but it looked like he’d abandoned his station. A traitor’s family couldn’t live in the palace. There was no place for them in Wakanda, her uncle had announced, and K’Mona had never seen him so cold. The girl couldn’t help but cling to her mother as they trekked through the forest and up the mountain. There was no place in Wakanda for them, the king had said. But the young girl’s mother had earned a life debt from the chief of the fifth tribe. The tribe that was a part of Wakanda in name, but lived as if they were banished themselves. The lord of the mountain gave sanctuary to the girl and her mother and the king let them be. As long as they stayed on the mountain he wouldn’t throw them out of their homeland.
It was a jarring difference for the young princess. It took her a while but she learned. She learned to wear the furs and to walk on the steep mountain roads. She learned not to run around on the swaying bridges and to stay away from the slippery edges. She learned to live with the cold and the snow, and to speak the dialect of the new tribe. And when a year later her mother's broken heart gave out, the young princess learned how to mourn like the mountain people mourned. She put on her mourning shroud and followed the chief's example in leading the procession. She buried her mother with tears falling from her eyes, not even caring that they froze on her face before they reached her chin. The girl was all alone. Her father, her aunt and uncle, even her cousin she loved so much, they had all abandoned her. The black panther had turned his back on her. So when the tribe prayed to their gorilla god for her mother's soul, she prayed with them, forgetting the goddess of fangs and claws that forsook her so.
The princess learned to live on the mountain of the Jabari. She made new friends and found a new kind of family. One that had accepted her and cared for her when her own would not. The princess learned to laugh again, to smile, to leave her tears behind. To remember her mother with fondness more than sadness, and to forget how much she was missing those who had already forgotten her. But her tentative peace would not last long. For when the princess had just turned ten she got news of her father. The chief called her to his throne room and told her what the king had announced. The prince, K’Mona’s father, didn’t abandon his post. They finally managed to track him down. He was dead. The princess cried for a month, unable to eat or sleep. The chief was sure she would follow her mother. For she had been too overtaken with grief. Because her father may have not abandoned her, but her only living blood relatives did at the mere thought that he might have done so. The gorilla lord asked for an audience on behalf of the girl. Her father committed no crimes, he told the king, maybe she could finally return to her family. The king did not rescind the banishment.
The young princess didn’t know that she had a sibling. A brother that the king had also abandoned. She would not find out about him until decades later. But for now the princess had to learn how to move on, again. She had to pick up the pieces of her heart once more. And she did. She grew up and as she did she realized it wasn’t her fault. She did nothing wrong and she didn’t deserve how her so-called family had treated her. She became a part of the Jabari, and if she hated the royal family a bit, none of her new tribe would hold it against her. There was no love lost between her old tribe and her new one. She eventually grew up to become a beautiful woman, looking as dignified and regal as anyone would expect from a princess, exiled or otherwise. She found love and friends and happiness, atop her cold mountain, and even the embers of her hatred for her royal kin had been half forgotten, buried in the snow. When she heard the news that her uncle passed away, she could honestly say that she didn’t feel anything. She had hoped for a moment that with the king dead, maybe one of her cousins would reach out to her, but stomped it down immediately. She knew better than to hope for anything from them. They didn’t care to contact her all these years, nothing would change now. Her place was on the mountain, and she was happy to stay there.
It was a late morning for K’Mona that day and she was enjoying a lazy breakfast with her husband in bed. With both of their responsibilities to their tribe, she didn’t get many late mornings alone with him and was determined to enjoy them the most when she did get them. She was leaning on his big chest, enjoying the feeling of his muscular arms around her, and nibbling on some fruit. And as their hunger for sustenance abated a different kind of hunger took its place. It started with a few kisses and touches, escalating quickly in fervor. They were excitedly enjoying the company of each other, when there was an insistent knock on the door. Her husband let out an angry growl of frustration and put on a robe. Once he made sure they were both decent, he ordered the visitor to come in.
“This had better be important”, he fixed the guard with a frown.
“I am sorry, my lord. There is an urgent message from Birnin Zana”, the guard announced.
“What is it now?”
“King T’Challa summons the princess to the palace. He expects her to arrive with haste.”
The guard quickly bowed and left the room. He didn’t need to be told that the interruption and the contents of his announcement hadn’t been well received. Every single Jabari knew how the princess had been thrown away from the palace and discarded by the royal family, and there wasn’t a single tribesman who heard of the summons that wasn’t offended on her behalf. The guard wanted to give her privacy to process the news, but also to avoid the anger of her loving husband. The guard wasn’t alone in believing that the princess shouldn’t heed the summons. And he wasn’t the only warrior in the tribe who would readily pick up arms and defend her if she chose to refuse them. He was sure he wouldn’t be able to find a single Jabari warrior who wouldn’t.
“Why now? What could they possibly want with me now?” K’Mona asked her husband, panicked desperation evident in her voice. It had been thirty years since she’d been to the golden city. Whenever her kin there had remembered she existed, it had never been for anything good. Mostly it had been the queen-mother making some quite callous demands that would discount the princess’ claim to the throne when K’Mona had turned of age. She couldn’t see this being any different, although her being summoned was a first. Stop hoping for something impossible, she reminded herself.
“I do not know, my love”, he replied and drew her in a comforting hug. She melted into his side and he placed a kiss on her hair.
“I do not want to go and walk into whatever trouble they prepared for me”, she admitted in a small voice.
“Then stay here.”
“Despite everything, he is still the king. I cannot ignore his summons without consequences”, she replied worriedly.
“Bah, let them come and face the might of the Jabari.”
“I will go”, she decided. It didn’t matter that she knew the whole tribe would protect her whatever she chose. She wouldn’t bring trouble and hurt to her home, not if she could help it.
“Do you think I cannot protect you?”
“I know you can”, she admitted with a quick kiss to the lips, “But I have been exiled for thirty years. Maybe it is time for me to face them.”
“I will be ready to accompany you when you want to depart”, he replied gravely.
“No, I need to do this alone. I cannot hide behind you this time.”
“But I want to protect you.”
“And I love it when you do, but not this time”, she replied and kissed him deeply, showing him just how much she loved him. He kissed her back, deepening the kiss and pulling her flush against him. They knew they should get ready for her departure soon, but they needed to finish what had been so rudely interrupted earlier. Surely the king could wait a bit for that, and if he couldn’t, well neither of them were interested in giving him a choice.
K’Mona took care while getting ready. When she stepped out of her room she looked every bit the Jabari princess. Her hair was traditionally braided and twisted around her head, decorated with customary Jabari jewelry and wooden beads. Even though it was summer and the capital city would be significantly hotter, she still wore the traditional furs and leathers and let her husband drape a white furred cloak over her shoulders, pinning its edges together at the hollow of her neck with his personal gorilla brooch. She kissed him goodbye and then joined her guard that would accompany her. She would be escorted by three Jabari guards, two men who looked almost as imposing as her husband, and a woman whose ferocity, K’Mona knew, would put any of the Dora Milaje to shame. With a final look at her husband and her tribe that had gathered around to offer her their strength and support, K’Mona turned away from her home and started heading towards the capital city of Wakanda. There was a jet waiting for her right at the border of the Jabari lands. Her guards escorted her to it, their distaste for the machine clear on their face. It made K’Mona more apprehensive. What could have been so urgent that the King of Wakanda had sent a jet just to get her to Birnin Zana faster?
K’Mona arrived at her destination way too quickly. She wasn’t prepared for the bitter emotions that would assault her once she stepped foot on the palace grounds. So many faded memories, bad and good, soured by the treatment of the thirty years that came after. She was princess K’Mona, lady of the Jabari and she refused to show them what being back here made her feel. She took a breath and schooled her face in cold indifference. She walked with purpose, her guards trailing behind her. And then she reached the throne room, and she couldn’t ignore the tension that was so thick she could feel it radiating from behind the closed door. Whatever was going on, she could tell it was bad.
“Princess K’Mona, daughter of prince N’Jobu.”
K’Mona walked in as she was announced, with her head held high. There was a familiar looking man sitting on the throne, her cousin’s face so much different after all these years yet somehow still the same. K’Mona recognized the woman on his right as Ramonda, the queen mother. There was a much younger woman on his left, which K’Mona deduced must have been her younger cousin, princess Shuri. The girl looked at K’Mona with curiosity, but K’Mona didn’t return the look. The council of the tribes was assembled, and K’Mona felt an inkling of indignation that the Jabari were still excluded. It was just another reminder that her kin would not accept anything they didn’t like, no matter which one of them sat on that throne. Other than the guard, there was also another man in the room, a prisoner if the hands cuffed behind his back were any indication, and he was looking at her intently. His eyes were filled with so many emotions that K’Mona couldn’t read a single one, and she had to struggle to look away. This stranger’s eyes were so eerily familiar, and for a moment she thought her father was looking back at her.
“Welcome cousin, it has been a while”, spoke the king and K’Mona wanted to scoff or storm out, she wasn’t really sure which.
“Not that I had a choice”, she replied coldly, “I assume there was a reason you summoned me here today, your majesty?”
“Yes”, the king replied, taken aback by K’Mona’s tone. What did he expect? K’Mona wasn’t sure she even wanted to know the answer to that, it was certain to be insulting at the very least. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, princess Shuri cleared her throat.
“Cousin, we called for you because of him”, she said, gesturing to the prisoner, “He is Erik Stevens, an american black operative and mercenary nicknamed Killmonger.”
“Really, princess? Already said that ain’t my name”, the prisoner said with a very american accent, his focus never leaving K’Mona.
“I do not understand”, K’Mona replied carefully.
“He had this with him”, the king explained, showing her a chain with a ring on it. A ring that was the twin to the one around the king’s finger. A ring like the one her father used to wear. As soon as she recognized the ring, K’Mona’s face whipped to look at the prisoner standing proudly in the middle of the room. She ignored the pounding in her ears and focused on the presence of her guards, and the feel of her husband’s brooch settling comfortably at the base of her neck. She was strong and loved and protected. She wasn’t that banished little girl anymore.
“Who are you and why do you have my father’s ring?” she questioned the man, and if her voice wasn’t as steady as she had wanted it to be, she didn’t have the capacity at the moment to care.
“I am N’Jadaka, son of prince N’Jobu”, he announced proudly, although she could see some softness in the look he gave her. It couldn’t be. K’Mona was sure she heard wrong. How could she have a brother? Surely it couldn’t have been possible. She unconsciously took a step back, dizzy from the news, and one of her guards steadied her. A moment later she regained her composure, although she was feeling too lightheaded, with a million thoughts spinning in her head, all demanding her immediate attention.
“I see”, she replied, turning her attention to the king, “I doubt your majesty called me here for a family reunion. What punishment have you for me this fine day?”
“Watch how you speak to your king”, the queen-mother warned and she felt the man who claimed to be her brother bristle at the threat.
“That is enough”, the king interrupted before K’Mona had a chance to reply.
“We called you here to determine if this man’s claim to be your brother is true”, he explained in a matter of fact way, as if his words weren’t turning K’Mona’s world upside down.
“How would I know? I have been banished to the Jabari lands since I was six years old”, she reminded him, trying hard to ignore the increasingly intense look her could-be brother was sending her way.
“We need a DNA sample to verify his words”, princess Shuri explained. K’Mona’s mouth went dry and she couldn’t form words. If this man was her brother, and she had a feeling deep in her stomach insisting that he was, she wanted to have irrefutable proof of it. She nodded her consent.
They were escorted to the royal lab. A place that none of the Jabari liked, as the only inventions created there all spat at their traditions and culture, especially after Princess Shuri started to lead it. K’Mona felt her guards standing closer to her and she was grateful for their support. She walked further into the lab and froze, her guards immediately jumping in front of her. There was a white man in the lab, an outsider. In the lab that controlled everything in Wakanda, that had every project and information openly on display. Her guards would have definitely been smug about distrusting Shuri and her lab, if they weren’t worried about protecting K’Mona.
“Sup, Agent Ross?” N’Jadaka greeted the stranger. The implications that greeting caused in regards to the outsider’s identity were enough to have everyone on edge. Everyone other than the king, and his closest people. Those that knew the outsider was here and who he was.
“Fancy meeting you here, major”, Ross replied.
One of the kingsguard escorted the agent out of the lab, before the tension in the room rose even more. With the immediate threat removed, K’Mona’s guards relaxed and allowed the scientist princess to approach. Shuri swabbed the inside of K’Mona and N’Jadaka’s mouths and went to work. It would take a bit of time for the machine to run the test. Everyone, other than the guards, took a seat. The lab was silent, the only sound was the faint whirring of the machines. K’Mona had so many questions and she knew she wouldn’t be allowed to ask them later.
“How old are you?” she asked N’Jadaka, who hadn’t taken his eyes from her since the agent left.
“Thirty”, he replied, not knowing the hurt his words cost. He was five years younger than her and their dad disappeared when she was five. It was a simple thought, to connect the two events.
“That is when baba disappeared”, she murmured so quietly she wasn’t sure if he heard her. The female guard, who had been her personal guard for years now, sent her a sympathetic look.
“What ya mean disappeared?” he asked, having heard her afterall.
“He went on a mission and we never heard from him again. Did you know him before he died?”
“Yeah he died when I was five”, he shrugged, but she could see the pain in his eyes. She was having trouble breathing. Her father had abandoned her too. He went and had a new family while her world had crumbled around her. It broke open something inside her that she thought she had long locked away. She didn’t realize she was slumped in her seat crying. Not until her two male guards stood in front of her to hide her, while the female one kneeled beside her to comfort her. At first she couldn’t make out the guard’s words. N’Jadaka was looking at her with a worried expression. It was the most emotion he had shown since he entered Wakanda. K’Mona was too distraught to notice, but the others weren’t.
“Please, my lady, breathe with me. Deep and steady”, the guard pleaded and a few moments later K’Mona was able to follow the guard’s instructions. She took a deep breath, released it, took another, released that one too. After another few breaths she had calmed down enough to be able to control herself. She nodded at the guard and wiped her tears. A moment later her guards had gone back to their positions. There was a question in N’Jadaka’s eyes and he opened his mouth to ask. He was interrupted by the machine beeping. The results were ready.
“He is our cousin”, Shuri announced once she read the results.
K’Mona stood up. She wasn’t surprised at the news. She already knew instinctively that the cuffed man in front of her was telling the truth. She approached him slowly, waiting to see if he would reject her. When he didn’t, she hugged him.
“My brother, I am happy to have found you”, she told him sincerely. Her father may have abandoned her to go start a family in the US with N’Jadaka’s mother, but that wasn’t her brother’s fault. He didn’t make their father leave, he definitely didn’t make their uncle banish her nor her cousins forsake her nor her aunt hate her. He didn’t know she had existed just as much as she didn’t know about him.
“You too, sis”, he replied a bit flippantly, but she was close enough to see how he’d tensed. He was just as affected.
“Do you know how our dad died?”
“You don’t know?” he asked, surprised.
“Our uncle said he found him and went to get him back. He said baba was dead when he got there.”
“Nah, it ain’t true”, he said and adjusted his posture so that he was looking at her dead in the eye, what little compassion he had left shining through his eyes, “I found our daddy with panther claws in his chest.”
Everything made so much sense now. Why their uncle had kept her away, why he’d never brought her brother home, why they never even knew he existed. K’Mona wished she could say she was surprised, but after all the revelations of that day, she just didn’t have it in her. She was just numb. Everything had gone quiet. She didn’t hear the commotion around her, the elders that were shouting in outrage, Ramonda that was accusing him of spewing lies, T’Challa that was trying to calm Shuri down. The others saw the king’s reaction and realized he had known about this, that what the lost prince had said was true. Yet K’Mona heard none of it. Only the blood pounding in her ears as someone started to dim the lights in the lab. She drew her furs around her. Suddenly the atmosphere had gotten so cold, colder than the harshest winter on the mountain’s peak. She saw her brother’s lips move, but couldn’t hear him. And then all at once, the lights were bright again and sound was rushing in and she wasn’t cold anymore.
“Is aight sis, you good”, he whispered and even though he was only trying to comfort her, she gave him a short nod in answer. She wasn’t alright or even fine, but as with everything else she had been through she knew she would be. Her guards were worried about her, but seeing that she was getting over the shock, they didn’t try to intervene. Everyone went back to the throne room so that the conversation about N’Jadaka could continue.
“Why is my brother in handcuffs, what is his crime?” K’Mona spoke first, addressing the king.
“He helped Klaue, an outsider who stole from Wakanda, get free”, T’Challa announced.
“Did he not bring us his corpse?” asked the elder of the border tribe.
“What proof do you have of his crimes?” demanded K’Mona. She had been wrongfully prosecuted when she was too powerless to defend herself. She would not allow her little brother to succumb to the same fate, not if she could ever hope to get to know him.
“I saw him. Is the word of your king not evidence enough?”
“Like your father’s word about my father’s death?” K’Mona questioned angrily. She was done with this farce. They never gave her the benefit of the doubt, treated her like a piece of trash they never meant to pick up and shoved her up on that mountain in the hopes that she would disappear. Yes, she found a life up there, but that didn’t mean their veiled intentions didn’t hurt. And now they wanted to do it all over again, only this time to her little brother. K’Mona’s sleeping hatred had been reignited and was now a blazing inferno raging through her veins.
“You forget yourself, girl”, warned Ramonda.
“I do? What are you going to do about it? Will you have me banished again? Or will you demand my death this time?”
“I have heard enough, you will stop speaking”, T’Challa ordered and K’Mona wanted to demand what he would do if she didn’t obey him. It was her love for her tribe that held her tongue. She had risked turning his wrath on them enough that day.
“It has been a tiring day and the sun will set soon. We will reconvene tomorrow”, ordered the king and no-one could argue.
K’Mona wanted to return to the mountain, but wasn’t allowed to. She was escorted to her old room in the palace. She hated that room, she’d spent so many nights crying in there. She refused to complain though. She had shown them enough of her raw feelings that day, she would not reveal any more. She sighed and sat on the bed, while her guards secured the room. She was startled when the door suddenly whirled open. T’Challa walked in, only to be greeted with three spears pointed in his direction.
“I come in peace, cousin. I just want to talk”, he said with his hands raised in a pacifying way. He was alone, his usual entourage of Dora nowhere in sight. K’Mona nodded and her guards allowed him to get in the room. He sat on a chair while she remained seated at the edge of her bed.
“You said you wanted to talk, your majesty”, she prompted when the silence drew too uncomfortable.
“I realized today, there were much more things between us than I had known.”
“You were the crown prince. No-one could have prevented you from reaching out to see how I was doing. You chose to forget me, like they wanted you to”, she replied, unable to mask the accusation in her voice and unwilling to let him plead ignorance to excuse his inaction.
“I know it is too late, but I am truly sorry about what happened to you, and your brother. I mean it. But I cannot let your brother free. He wants to use vibranium to wage war on the world, to burn everything to ash so that he can rule over it. He is lost to hate and vengeance.”
“And I suppose your majesty has a reason to tell me this?”
“I will allow you to visit him tonight. I hope that you can talk to him, help him see beyond all the hate.”
“And if I cannot see beyond mine?”
“Then he will fight me tomorrow and one of us will die”, the king warned and left. His threat only stoked her anger. Had he not taken enough from her? He was now threatening to kill her brother too? He could have tried to talk to him himself, but no. He wanted to use her instead, to put her in her place, the dutiful little princess who would let the king cut her to pieces if it helped him achieve his goals.
K’Mona deliberated on what she wanted to do a bit more. There was one thing she didn’t want to do. She didn’t want to lose what could very well be her last chance to talk with her brother. She stood up. She ordered one of her guards to go to the mountain and let her husband know what had happened, and also bring her a new change of clothes for the next day. Then she got out of her room with her other two guards and ordered one of T’Challa’s to take her to her brother. He led her through doors and hallways of the palace she’d never been to, until eventually she ended up in front of a prison cell. She could see her brother was lying on a stiff cot, with his eyes closed. He could be resting or he could be asleep and K’Mona didn’t want to interrupt that. She looked him over for a moment and saw a small smile grace his lips.
“You gonna keep watching, or you gonna say what you came here for?” he asked and opened his eyes.
“I am here for many reasons, not all my own.”
“Aight I’m listening”, he told her and sat up, placing his elbows on his knees in a relaxed manner.
“You came back for vengeance.”
“Wouldn’t you do the same?”
“Maybe, if all I had was my hate. But I have people that depend on me. People that I love. I cannot risk their lives for my hatred. I will not.”
“You telling me to let ‘em get away after all they took from us? Let ‘em sit on their comfortable thrones and forget all the pain they caused?”
“Of course not. But waging war on the whole world, burning everything down, will only leave you with nothing. Once your vengeance is sated and gone, brother, what will you have beside ash?”
“Don’t you hate them?”
“How could I not? But I also have people that I love, and burning the world will burn them too. Take the throne if you want, and become the strongest king Wakanda has seen. Shove them into the obscurity they wanted to put us in. Change the world and undo their wrongs, if that is what you want.”
“Look at this”, he said and took off his shirt. She saw he was covered in scars, kill marks she realized, and couldn’t help but gasp at how many there were.
“I killed people in America, Afghanistan, Iraq, even Africa. All in preparation for this day, where I could take my revenge. Twenty-two hundred and seven confirmed kills. You want me to forgive and forget, let all that death go in vain?”
“I said nothing about forgiving, or forgetting. I said you should take Wakanda, what they took everything from us in the name of, and turn it into the prosperous strong country they never could. Use Wakanda to change the world, and let them watch powerless to do anything but realize how wrong they are.”
“And all the lives I took?”
“You honored them on your skin, they made you strong enough to take the throne. I know it hurts brother, but war will only bring more pain.”
“The world took everything from me!”
“Not everything. You could still have me.”
“I gave up too much to back out now”, he shook his head.
“I understand. You do not have to give me an answer now. Just think about it.”
“And if you don’t like my answer?”
“I do not know. I just found you, brother. Do not make me lose you. But know this. Whatever you chose, if I lose you I will mourn you, whether it is death or your hatred that takes you from me.”
“You don’t even know me.”
“And if I lose you I will never get to know you. Whatever you choose, my only advice is this. Search your heart for what is most important to you. And if you decide to fight him tomorrow, win”, she ordered, some of her own hatred spilling in her voice.
“Damn sis, you out for blood too”, he smiled, his golden fangs glinting in the dim light.
“They took everything they could from me too. I had to fight to carve my place on the mountain and keep those that I love. My fight may not have been one of ritual combat, but I assure you brother, it was just as brutal.”
He smiled at her. It was a curious smile. The kind of smile a cat would give a new toy. K’Mona wasn’t sure she liked it, but she could see her brother was hurting and lost and had to rethink a life’s worth of plans in a single night. She could understand it was a difficult choice for him and pressing him would only hurt them both. He had embraced the darkness surrounding his heart, and only he could decide to let the light in. She couldn’t make the decision for him.
“Rest brother and whatever you decide to do, I can only hope you do not regret it.”
“Night sis”, he replied and put his clothes back on.
Early the next morning, K’Mona was awakened by the arrival of her guard. She was accompanied by five additional guards and K’Mona’s traditional ceremonial Jabari outfit. They knew, just like she did, that the day would inevitably end at Warrior’s Falls. K’Mona didn’t want to think about it, about what it could mean for her brother, for her, for the people she loved. After the sun rose, a palace employee brought her some breakfast. She might have been a princess and given a room in the palace, but she wasn’t treated like her station demanded. She wasn’t allowed breakfast with the royal family and the rest of the council that had stayed overnight. No. She was exiled and they wouldn’t let her forget that.
Once breakfast was over, the council reconvened. Her brother was brought in again with his hands tied behind his back like a criminal. He gave her a small smile, and she chose to believe that meant he wanted to know her too. There was a lot of talk about what to do with the revelation that the old king had lied, whether T’Challa could back his claims with proof. In the end, it didn’t matter. When N’Jadaka was finally allowed to speak, he claimed his birthright and issued his challenge. There would be ritual combat to determine who of the two cousins would sit upon the throne and wear the mantle of the black panther.
It was well past noon when they gathered at Warrior’s Falls. K’Mona and the elders of the council dressed in their ceremonial outfits. The Dora Milaje and every other guard present were appropriately dressed too. Only the high shaman, the queen mother and the young princess did not wear their ceremonial clothing, treating this as if it was a normal gathering. They thought they were disrespecting N’Jadaka and his claim to the throne, but they were disrespecting the ritual combat itself. They showed that they held no respect for Wakanda and its traditions and there was far more than one pair of eyes that looked at their clothing with disappointment.
There was none of the fanfare of the challenge day. The drums, the processions, they were all done away with. It was just as well, K’Mona thought. The sooner this was over with, the sooner she would know what she would lose, whether she would have a brother to get to know or not. But she couldn’t think about it now, as she took her place on the rock ledges surrounding the fighting ground. She stood there, draped in wood and leather and beads and fur, her tribe’s warriors at her back, as her brother stepped into the water.
He walked confidently to the king and prepared. She noticed everyone’s awe and apprehension when they saw his kill marks. They had galled at his mercenary codename, talked about how a killmonger shouldn’t be on the throne, but somehow had failed to realize what he had to do to earn such a name. The shaman announced the challenge, pronounced who the combatants were and then the fight began. N’Jadaka was a fierce fighter, calm and collected. He didn’t rise to the bait, didn’t let his anger and hate dictate his moves. He was precise and ruthless. He thought of what his sister had said the night before and he still wasn’t sure what he wanted to do once he won the fight. But the night of rest had helped him recollect his thoughts and center his emotions. He was fighting to the death, he would never yield, and there was no room for emotion in such a fight. It was good his training had prepared him for a situation like that. The fight was long and brutal and N’Jadaka knew he had to show his might to deter future fights. So he fought hard and didn’t end it too quickly.
K’Mona almost felt sorry for her cousin. Almost. She didn’t enjoy seeing anyone getting beaten, especially not so brutally. She still had fond memories of T’Challa from their childhood and there was also a very small part of her that wanted to hope that once he had settled on the throne he would have tried to mend their relationship. But there was also a much bigger and more consuming part of her that felt a cathartic release in watching this. T’Challa had been her closest friend, but chose to forget her, chose to let her fade away. She didn’t hate him for staying away from her as a child, not since she stopped being a child herself. No. But she did hate him for how he stayed away as an adult. She meant what she’d told him last night. He could have reached out, tried to see what had happened to his once close friend, his cousin. He didn’t. And all that anger and hurt and hatred that he and his parents had planted in K’Mona’s heart to fester, she felt them leave her with each punch and kick and cut her brother landed. She felt all those emotions being released reflected on her brother and she knew he felt the same.
The fight was almost over. Her cousin could barely stand. A hard kick to the chest sent him to the ground. He lost both weapon and shield and was too disoriented to stand up. N’Jadaka stood above him and raised his sword for the killing blow. K’Mona heard the pained exclamations of her other cousin and her aunt. She didn’t enjoy them, she never could. But although she felt some hint of pity for her younger cousin, she couldn’t feel the same for her aunt. An aunt that had been nothing but pitiless in her treatment of K’Mona.
“Yield”, N’Jadaka ordered the fallen king. T’Challa’s response was a kick that was so feeble and misplaced, that his standing opponent didn’t even need to try to defend against it.
N’Jadaka brought the sword down, ready to deal the killing blow. Only before his blade met the flesh of his cousin it was stopped by a spear. A spear held by the high shaman, Zuri. There was a collective gasp at the shaman’s action. No-one should interfere in a ritual combat, it was a most sacred rule.
“I am the cause of your father’s death, not him. Take me”, the shaman pleaded, but it sounded more like a command. N’Jadaka gave no reaction to the shaman’s words, although K’Mona felt them like a punch in her gut. Instead, he took the spear from the shaman and plunged it into its owner’s chest, killing the man. No one was surprised by his death, his life was forfeit the moment he stepped in between the warriors. No-one except the king and his family. While Shuri and Ramonda flinched and then froze in shock, T’Challa started shouting “no” again and again, in sadness and indignation. He managed to stand up and get hold of N’Jadaka’s sword. His attack was sloppy, encumbered by his wounds and his emotions. N’Jadaka deflected easily, retrieving his sword. He gave the king another chance to yield and when that chance was discarded, he plunged his blade into the angry king’s chest. The blade went in deep. K’Mona saw the blade twist, saw it being pulled from the chest of her cousin, who was falling. She saw the light leave his eyes and the water around him turn red. She felt tears fall down her cheeks. It was a mix of relieved tears for her brother’s life, and of sadness for her cousin’s death. No-matter how she had felt about him, she didn’t want to see him dead. She had honestly hoped he would yield.
N’Jadaka was breathing hard, the battle had been tiring. He walked to the middle of the pool of water that served as the fighting grounds. Shuri and Ramonda’s cries faded away while the high shaman’s successor moved forward and asked if there were any challengers to face N’Jadaka. Once no-one stepped forward she draped the fanged necklace around N’Jadaka’s neck, pronouncing him the king and the new black panther. The Dora Milaje tapped the end of their spears on the rock and crossed their arms to salute their new king. The warriors of the tribes did the same, while the others present, those that did not carry spears, only offered the crossed armed salute. After that was done, N’Jadaka moved to stand in front of his sister. He gave her a look that she couldn’t decipher, but it was obvious he was thinking hard on something. She took a handkerchief from her belt and folded it.
“Congratulations, brother”, she told him respectfully and wiped the blood from the cut across his cheekbone. He nodded in thanks. Behind him, a few of the Dora retrieved the body of the late king, while the shamans took care of Zuri’s. A young shaman approached K’Mona and N’Jadaka. She was there to lead them to the sacred garden of the heart-shaped herb. When they reached the garden’s entrance they were informed that only the shamans, the king and his sister were permitted inside. Neither the Dora nor the Jabari protested, knowing how sacred the ritual that was about to take place inside was. They walked in and K’Mona’s breath caught in her throat. She had never been to the garden before and couldn’t help but admire its beauty. All the glowing purple flowers hanging from the vines all around them gave it an enchanted look.
N’Jadaka was instructed to lay in a sandpit filled with red glittering sand. He laid there with his hands crossed in front of him in the wakandan salute. K’Mona stood at the edge of the pit forming a circle around it with the other shamans. The new high shaman ground the herb and put it in the ceremonial cup.
“Allow this Heart-Shaped Herb to give you the strength of the Black Panther and take you to the Ancestral Plane”, the shaman intoned as she poured the ground herb juice into the king’s mouth. He gulped it down and K’Mona watched as a purple glow traveled from his face down his throat to his shoulders. He started seizing in pain and K’Mona struggled to stay in place as she saw the shamans bury him beneath the sand. She stood there, looking intently at the sand for longer than she would’ve liked, although in truth it wasn’t that long. Until, suddenly, the king sprung up from the sand. He looked like a man who had just woken up from a nightmare, gasping hard and looking around, searching for enemies that no-one could see. His eyes landed on his sister and he focused on her, although there was no recognition in them.
“Breathe, brother, breathe”, she told him again and again, until his breathing eased and recognition entered his eyes and he allowed her to take his hand in hers.
“Wanna talk to my sister, leave”, he ordered and the shamans left immediately. He waited until they were alone before speaking up again.
“Everything I know tells me I should burn it all”, he gestured to the vines around them, “If I was smart I would.”
“That would be stupid”, she replied, ignoring the look he gave her, “It would tell them you are afraid, it would turn the elders against you and it would have your warriors lose any respect for you that you may have earned with them at the ritual combat.”
“Ain’t you a smart one”, he replied airily, as if he wasn’t taken aback by her words, but she knew he didn’t like what she had said. He was too fraught emotionally, she should stop talking, let him get his bearings back, but she didn’t.
“Why would you tell me that, if you did not want my honest opinion?”
“It ain’t that…it just…” he drawled, as if lost for words.
“It is about who you saw”, she guessed, “and what they said.”
“Thought I was gonna see our daddy, but saw my mamma. She said the same thing you did, ‘bout not letting hate control me”, he sounded so lost when he told her, and everything in K’Mona screamed at her to protect him, even though she hardly knew him and he had just become the black panther.
“You do not have to make any big decisions now”, she told him and pulled him in a tight hug.
“Give them a few days as a grace period to mourn the late king, while you think about what you want to do. It would also earn you favor with the elders”, she suggested, sincerely.
“Yah, I like that plan.”
The shamans came back in and gave K’Mona a black woven robe that she draped over the king’s shoulders. Then he entered the throne room and took his seat on the throne. He did as his sister suggested, noticing the Dora Milaje’s general head lift up with newfound respect for her new king. He also gave orders to find and detain the CIA agent, which no-one could really find fault with, even those who were trying their hardest to. Then he dismissed the council and soon the elders went back to their tribes.
K’Mona wanted to head back to Gorilla City, she had missed her husband and her home, but when her brother asked her to stay with him in the palace that night, she couldn’t refuse him and not because he was the king. She sent word to her husband about her plans to return the next day with one of her guards. She ate dinner with her brother on the balcony, so that he could see his first wakandan sunset. They spent their time together getting to know each other. Neither talked about the difficult topics, although both knew that they would eventually have to. Instead she told him about the time she learnt to carve ice for decoration and he told her about the time he first saw a leopard in the zoo. Fun little stories to get to know each other.
They talked well into the night. They didn’t see Ramonda nor Shuri, and they didn’t even pretend to look for them. They could hide away and mourn their loss freely, both siblings knew how it felt to see someone you loved die right in front of you. There were no words N’Jadaka and K’Mona could offer them to comfort them, and even if there were, neither sibling was inclined to do so. Eventually the physical toll of the past few days caught up with K’Mona and they went to sleep. When early the next morning K’Mona was preparing to leave for her home, N’Jadaka approached her with purposeful steps, looking decidedly like the king he was.
“Think imma try it your way. I can always go with my plan if yours don’t work out”, he told her with a smirk and she knew that the last part was just for the sake of his pride. What was important was that he changed his mind, that he wanted to try for something good. She said nothing in response, but the smile that graced her face turned his smirk into a genuine smile. A moment later, two warriors of the Dora Milaje approached them.
“Aight, this is Ayo and Aneka. They’ll go with you.”
“I already have guards”, K’Mona replied automatically.
“Two more ain’t gonna hurt. Better play it safe”, he insisted and she nodded in acceptance. There was no use arguing with him about that.
The journey back to the Jabari lands didn’t take as long as it normally would have, both the jabari warriors and princess were eager to get back home. Once they reached the base of the mountain, K’Mona took a big breath, enjoying the scent of the Jabari trees coming down the breeze to greet her. Those trees meant home, and there was nowhere else in the world that those trees existed. She had missed her home. They started climbing up the mountain. As they climbed they passed the checkpoints where K’Mona knew the guards lay hidden. They wouldn’t reveal themselves, not with the Dora Milaje present, but they did call in greeting. Their deep cries, that emulated the callings of the smaller apes, echoed around them. The echoes made it hard for the Dora to feel where the calls were coming from. They both tensed, unsure what this call meant. It didn’t sound like the Jabari callings they knew, those that meant war. Seeing the relaxed posture of the Jabari guards and the small smile on the princess’ face, they realized it was a welcome.
The cries increased in loudness and frequency the closer they got to the capital city of the Jabari. Whenever they passed by a village the calls became deafening, and with so many people greeting them, the Dora were sure that soon their calls would shake the mountain itself. It wasn’t a normal greeting, even for a princess whose exile was recently revoked. K’Mona was someone important to the Jabari, the Dora realized and they didn’t like their realization. They didn’t know who or what K’Mona was to this tribe and that could be dangerous. Once they got close enough to Gorilla City that they could see its buildings, the cries became a continuous accompaniment. The noise was deafening to Ayo and Aneka. It was a welcoming song for the Jabari with them.
The welcome cries echoed all round them. The sound was picked up and carried by the wind, until its faint reverberations reached the Great Gorilla sitting on his throne atop the peak of the mountain. Despite his audience, he let a small smile turn his lips. He knew what that meant. The four people seeking audience with him, however, didn’t know and quite possibly hadn’t picked up on the sounds. They only saw the chief’s smile and chose to assume that he meant to welcome them with it. The truth was the Jabari tribe didn’t hold much love for the royal family, in fact most thought of them as a paragon of everything wrong and corrupt with Wakanda. The chief of the tribe was a bit more personally involved in his opinion of them, which was understandable. He saw first hand how bad they had treated a member of their very own family, and an innocent child nonetheless.
In their infinite arrogance and perhaps with a healthy amount of desperation as well, the former queen mother had arrived at his great city with her daughter, a river tribe spy and an american. As the chief had yet to have word of the events that had transpired in the Birnin Zana, he offered them a place to sleep. He waited for news, and after he deliberated on what his guard had said he allowed them this audience. That didn’t mean he was on their side, or that he was even willing to help them, but his sense of honor would have him hear them out at least. So he sat sprawled on his throne, waiting for them to say what they came to him for.
“Speak”, he commanded when they insisted on silently looking at him as if he was death incarnate.
“My son was murdered in a ritual combat”, Ramonda announced, and M’Baku was not impressed by her proclamation. How could someone be murdered in a fight to the death? His guard had witnessed the combat and all he had to say was that the only interference was in favor of the dead king.
“Were the odds fair?” he asked to give them a chance to understand what they were saying.
“Yes, but -” the water tribe spy started to make excuses, but he interrupted her.
“So it was less a murder than a defeat”, he mused.
“Do not rub our noses in it”, the princess demanded.
“Silence! I make the pronouncements here girl”, he reminded them. They were in his throne room, on his mountain, no doubt to make demands of him, and he would not let them think they could just order him about as if they were still in their golden city.
The american tried to speak and M’Baku was quick to intimidate him into silence. He may have given a tiny amount of respect for the princess and her mother, considering the late king’s actions during the time he battled M’Baku in ritual combat, but the american’s very presence in his throne room was an insult. He did not get to make demands.
“Great Gorilla M’Baku”, exclaimed the river tribe woman and showed him a heart-shaped herb cradled in her palms.
“This is why we are here”, she continued while getting on her knees, “to offer this to you. An outsider sits on our throne. Only you can help us stop him.”
M’Baku stood up grimly when she was done talking. What they had done was a crime punishable by death. What they were asking of him wasn’t only treason, but to turn his back on the very god that had protected his tribe, the great Hanuman, in favor of Bast’s gift. M’Baku would not have it. Apparently the former queen misunderstood his reaction. She got on her knees too, the princess and the american following suit. All four of them were kneeling before him, their precious herb cradled in the spy’s palm like a beloved child. M’Baku wasn’t sure if he wanted to snap at them to realize what they were doing or throw them out of his mountain and demand they never even look upon it again.
The four kneeling outsiders ignored the cries echoing outside from behind the doors, so strong now they were a pulsing beat all around them. They weren’t Jabari, they didn’t know what the sounds meant. The great gorilla lord of the Jabari, though, couldn’t ignore the commotion and its significance. M’Baku forgot all about the insulting suggestion and those kneeling before him, his eyes focusing on the door to the throne room. The cries were coming from inside the building now and getting closer. His guards noticed his reaction and started tapping their spears to the rhythm of the cries. The doors to the throne room burst open loudly and the welcoming cries stopped instantly. The silence in their absence was deafening. K’Mona walked towards the throne, a delegation of guards trailing behind her. She walked across the guard lined isle, and every set of guards she passed would tap their spears once and fall on one knee in welcome. M’Baku went to her, meeting her at the end of the isle. Locking his eyes on hers was enough to calm him down. She always had that effect on him. He took her hands in his, the only show of tenderness he would make with outsiders to his tribe present.
“Welcome home, my lady”, he smiled at her.
“Why are you here?” demanded the former queen with venom dripping in her voice. When M’Baku had turned to look at the speaker he noticed that all four outsiders had stood up again.
“I live here”, K’Mona replied, just as stonily as the Great Gorilla of the Jabari had asked about the ritual combat mere moments before.
The conversation didn’t progress, as Ayo saw what the river tribe woman was holding.
“Nakia? How do you have this?” the Dora Milaje demanded in a cold voice.
“I got it before the Killmonger burned them all.”
“He burned the herb?” asked Aneka, bewildered.
“He did not”, K’Mona replied, relieved that the two Doras believed her.
“I heard him tell you that he was going to burn it”, Nakia exclaimed defensively.
“Yet the garden remains unburnt”, K’Mona countered.
“You lie! I know what I heard.”
“But perhaps you failed to understand it. The garden stands as it always was”, K’Mona insisted.
“Nakia of the river tribe, you have trespassed upon the sacred garden and stolen its most precious herb. There is only one punishment fit for your crime. May the ancestors be kind to you”, announced Ayo and plunged her spear through Nakia’s heart. All Ayo could offer to the War Dog was a swift death. She quickly picked up the herb before it was soaked in the offender’s blood.
“What are you doing? I can guarantee you that if he hasn’t burnt it already he will before the end of the week. It’s what he does. His unit’s specialty was destabilizing foreign countries. He would go in during transitions of power, like the death of a king. He’d get control of the government, military and resources and then bring the country to its knees”, Agent Ross explained, undisturbed by the dead body lying mere feet away from him.
“Was it not you that ordered those actions, Agent Ross? Are you not here trying to do the very same thing you just described?” K’Mona questioned.
“Ayo, the king’s orders were clear”, Aneka whispered when she realized who the outsider really was. She wasn’t sure before if he wasn’t just another white man T’Challa had let through the borders. He’d done it multiple times during his short reign.
“I know”, Ayo whispered and then spoke loudly for the benefit of those present, “Agent Ross, by order of the King, you are under arrest. Surrender now and you will not be harmed.”
The agent knew he was outnumbered and had no chance of fighting his way out. He raised his hands in surrender and soon was dragged away by the Dora Milaje. K’Mona ordered one of the guards to lead them to the prison cells. It was too late for them to attempt to get back to the royal palace at this time. With the Dora Milaje’s exit, Ramonda’s anger broke through her shock. Nakia’s death was just another sin to place on K’Mona. She stomped over to K’Mona. M’Baku went to stand protectively in front of the princess, but she stopped him by placing a hand on his arm. She wouldn’t hide behind him.
“You killed my son! I should have demanded your head when I had the chance”, she screamed and seeing the princess’s impassive face, she raised her hand to strike K’Mona. Before she could even move her hand to K’Mona, M’Baku pulled the princess protectively behind him, fixing the former queen with such a furious stare that she froze.
“Dare touch my wife and you will lose that arm”, he rumbled menacingly.
“Wife?” Shuri asked in surprise.
“How can you not know? I invited all of you to the wedding”, K’Mona replied. She wanted to say she was surprised but she wasn’t. They had proven multiple times how prejudiced against her they were. It would be entirely possible that they saw her name on the wedding invitation and didn’t even bother to read the rest, regardless that it was also the jabari chief’s wedding. That’s the only reason she’d invited them in the first place, anyway. A tribe chief couldn’t snub the royal family and not invite them to his wedding.
Shuri had the sense to look apologetic, although Ramonda’s face pinched as if she’d just sucked on a lemon. If K’Mona had seen them pull that face any time before she had met her brother, she might have enjoyed it. But too many things had happened since then and she was just too tired. Exhausted. She didn’t care for Ramonda, and she could now clearly see that Shuri was nothing but a clueless child, spoiled like K’Mona had once been. There was no point in arguing with them, not anymore.
“Why are they here?” K’Mona asked her husband.
“They begged for the Jabari to usurp the new king.”
“Such cold women you both are. The king has given you permission to prepare T’Challa’s funeral. Instead of tending to your fallen kin, you are here begging for war. I just wonder, were you planning to leave his corpse to rot or would you prefer my brother and I tend to it?”
“First we must save the world from N’Jadaka’s plans. Then we can mourn my brother properly”, Shuri announced in a shaky voice.
“And what plans would those be?” K’Mona asked curiously. Neither woman had stayed long enough after the ritual combat to hear any of his announcements and Nakia’s intel had proven to be lacking if her insistence about the garden being burned was any indication.
“What are you talking about? He wants to go to war with the world!” Shuri exclaimed in self-righteousness.
“So far the king only made two announcements. To arrest CIA Agent Ross, and to allow a mourning period of a week for the fallen king T’Challa”, K’Mona told them coldly.
“You want us to believe he will not expose Wakanda’s secrets to the world?” Ramonda scoffed.
“I do not care what you believe. This is not a debate. N’Jadaka is king and he has made his decree. You can choose to heed it or rebel, but do not pretend this is about anything other than your wounded prides”, K’Mona replied.
“Insolent child”, Ramonda mumbled but Shuri placed a hand on her mother’s arm, realizing how precarious their position was.
Knowing that there was no point for further discussion at the moment, K’Mona offered for her grieving kin to retire in their rooms. They reluctantly accepted, letting K’Mona and M’Baku to do the same. The lord and lady of the mountain missed each other much and decided to forsake dinner and retire to their rooms. They changed into more relaxed clothing as soon as the doors to their chamber closed and promptly fell into each other’s arms. They had a lot to discuss, but there was no reason to be apart from each other while they did.
During the next week, things calmed down. The country mourned their late king, even K’Mona attended the funeral as the Lady of the Mountain. And when the mourning period was over, the king called for his council once again. This time, the Jabari chief had been given a seat at the table. K’Mona had also been asked to attend as the king’s kin, which she did. She sat there and listened to the arguments of the council. No-one liked King N’Jadaka’s plan of introducing Wakanda to the world, least of all general Okoye. The king sat lazily on his throne and let the arguments be voiced. Eventually, everyone drew quiet, unable to argue when there were no counter arguments being made. It was obvious that N’Jadaka had experience leading people and despite what one would have thought from his first couple days in Wakanda, he didn’t appear to be as intolerant of differing opinions when the people offering them knew to be respectful.
“I hear you, but here’s the thing. King T’Challa made any other course of action impossible. He paraded around Europe wearing a vibranium suit. He invited an international fugitive and a CIA agent within our borders. It ain’t something the rest of the world can just ignore”, was all the king said, choosing to avoid replying to every concern separately. He didn’t really need to do that, not when the facts of their kingdom’s circumstances were as he’d described. Even the general of the Dora knew the king was right. It was better for them to control how the information was presented to the rest of the world, than let whatever another country’s agenda was to color the narrative. Everyone agreed with that, even an obstinate Shuri, who tried to judge every move N’Jadaka made.
In the end it was N’Jadaka’s service as an operative, and the unique understanding of international politics that it had offered, that had helped Wakanda thrive despite the pressure and scrutiny it received from its new introduction to the world. It was true that at times the new king had a bit of a jaded perception of certain political moves, being that he had once been the person that had been sent to make those happen in the shadows. But Wakanda was prosperous and strong and thriving, and even N’Jadaka’s most vocal opponents couldn’t deny that he wore the mantles of king and black panther well.
A year into his reign, Wakanda was becoming a secure nation, with international allies and safe borders and K’Mona found herself enjoying another late morning. This time she was with all her family, both her husband and brother, and even her remaining cousin. K’Mona sat in her rooms, on her mountain, with a warm smile on her face, a hand gently caressing her belly that showed the beginnings of a swelling. She felt her husband’s warmth around her, and basked in the gentle smile her brother was directing at her. Even Shuri had reluctantly tried to mend the rift between her and the siblings, although their relationships would inevitably always be scarred by the positions their parents had forced them into. Yet, as a new generation of royals was soon to be inducted into the annals of the royal clan, all three cousins vowed that the pain and suffering they had gone through wouldn’t be a legacy the new generation would inherit. And like young princess K’Mona had once upon a time hoped, she was happy and loved and would never again be alone.