For All Those Who Don’t Know. LUISA MADRIGAL Is Now The Love Of My Life. Not Only Is She Strong Mentally

Reblog if it’s okay to befriend you, ask questions, ask for advice, rant, vent, let something off your chest, or just have a nice chat.

This the one y’all. I just …

The wlw urge of calling someone my wife

👀 is is too much to ask? *cough* Luisa Madrigal *cough*

*cough* Natasha Romanoff *cough*

REBLOG IF YOU WANT A LOVE LETTER FROM A FICTIONAL CHARACTER IN YOUR ASK BOX NOW

AND I WILL DO EVERY SINGLE ONE, BASED ON YOUR BLOG.

EVERY

SINGLE

ONE

I totally agree with this because it all makes sense. I don’t think there would’ve been a better one for Dolores, Camilo and Antonio.

Ok since I’ve seen A LOT of things talking about how the madrigals come in threes and how pepa,Bruno and julieta represent the past present and future so like what if all of the kids represented something in threes

Julieta, Pepa and Bruno (past present and future)

Julieta is obviously past since she heals injury’s that’s have already happened

Pepas power relies on how she’s feeling in the present for what weather will happen

And Bruno’s power is literally predicting the future so that all makes sense

Isabella, Luisa and Mirabel (Beauty, Brawns and Brains)

Mirabel describes Isabella being the Beauty and that makes sense with her being seen as perfect by eveyone

She also describes Luisa as the Brawns which makes sense considering her power is super strength

Which leaves Mirabel to either be the brains or the heart but honestly I think brains suits her personality better

Dolores, Camilo and Antonio (hear no evil, see no evil and say no evil)

Honestly Delores, Camilo and Antonio were the hardest to figure out but I think Delores might represent hear no evil with her power

Camilo would be see no evil considering how he can turn into people he’s seen, because I’m pretty sure he has to have seen the person before to shift into them

And Lastly Antonio would be say no evil with his ability to speak to animals!

I know it’s a stretch I just think it’s a cool idea that all the madrigal family represent something in a way, also I think alma and pedro represent life and death with Pedro death being the think that helps alma give life to the candle and the house

The bright and colorful lights of the city made it seem like was I was in a whole new world. The signs intrigued me mostly because I didn’t know what they said. The crowded streets and the wonderfulness of being in such a place made me feel … like a new person. The nightlife of Seoul seemed like a different dimension then daytime. And I couldn’t wait to explore. I couldn’t wait for this new experience in life and for the life long memories I was going to make during my trip. I couldn’t wait to try new things and meet new people.

prompt 1779

Write a paragraph about a place you’ve never seen but always wanted to visit. Don't write about how you want to visit. Actually put yourself on the streets of the place and write about what you see.

This was … yeah

100/10 would recommend

could you do an okoye x reader, where the reader went on a mission even though okoye didn’t want them to go because of how dangerous it was, and they end up going missing for a while?

please bare with me💀 this is my first request 😭

ꜱʜᴇ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴄᴇᴀɴ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴀɴᴅ

Pairing: General Okoye x Black!Fem!Reader

Genre: Fic

Synopsis: When you go MIA during a mission in America, the search for you has Okoye coming to terms with her true emotions. 

Warnings: one-sided pining in the beginning, cursing, mentions of main character death (T’Challa’s passing), reader is injured, mentions of blood, implied friends with benefits, maybe some ooc okoye and shuri

A/N: This is a whopping 10.5k word count, the longest anything that I've ever written, so prepare to sit for a minute with this reading!! Present time takes place during BP2, past/flashbacks take place during BP1. Some songs to listen to while reading: Lauren Hill's "Ex-Factor", "When It Hurts So Bad", and "I Used To Love Him" ft. Mary J. Blige ;; Tate McRae's "uh oh", "that way" and "you broke me first".

Tags: @verachii @inmyheadimobsessed @babyboiboyega @badass-dora-milaje @chrome-edition @bestfriend491 @daddyshuri

It had been three days since any last known contact between you and Wakanda. 

Aneka and Ayo had never witnessed their general in such distress. Okoye was possibly the most skilled in the Dora Milaje when it came to masking emotions. It was a tactic taught to the warriors so they could not be read and exploited through their emotions. A tactic taught ferociously by Okoye herself. To see the woman’s mask cracking brought worry to the two high-level Dora’s.

The general kept fidgeting with the holographic screen. With Princess Shuri’s lab being one of very few places able to track locations via kimoyo beads Okoye found herself taking after the gifted scientist, confining herself to the pristine white premises. She had been stuck in the same never-ending loop; typing in your last name and mission location only for it to come up as ‘unavailable’ in bright, red, blocky letters on the screen. She would get frustrated, grumbling curses under her breath, her clear-polished nails scratching the surface of the counter top.

It was clear Okoye’s only consolation would be you back on Wakandan soil.

“Is she still at it?” A voice called behind the two guards. Each turned to their side to see Princess Shuri walking down the corridor. The young royal’s attire never ceased to amaze the militant warriors, ever faithful in their tradition, compared to the futuristic aesthetic the princess held.

The two guards executed the proper Wakandan solute to the gifted scientist, of which Shuri returned with a tight smile. The sight of the general, her long-time companion, swiping and pressing away at the holographic screen with haste, confirmed Shuri’s suspicions. 

“Since six o’clock this morning, princess,” Ayo confirmed.

“And still nothing, I presume?” Shuri asked. The silence of the two guards, and their sympathetic glances to their general, was enough of an answer for Shuri.

“Is there nothing that can be done?” Aneka questioned.

Technically speaking, without the kimoyo beads, tracking via technology would be rendered useless. The last known trace of (Y/N) was in a body of water - a Great Lake in the US, to be precise. If the two could pinpoint a starting location for a city along said lake…

“There may be,” Shuri whispered, more to herself than to the two Dora soldiers. “Would you two give us a moment?”

Aneka and Ayo saluted to the princess, before briskly walking to the end of the corridor to take up position there. With each woman taking their stance against each wall of the corridor entryway, a sigh of relief was released simultaneously.

“I sincerely hope this is able to be resolved soon,” Aneka comments, “I can’t bear to witness General Okoye in such distress.”

“Glory to Bast, be it so,” Ayo responds. “You do know why she is on such a sharp edge?”

Aneka looked at Ayo, subtle confusion painting her face. “(Y/N) is her best friend, is she not?”

At this, Ayo released a small chuckle. “I will tell you this so that you may understand, my love. But make no mistake - the General and (Y/N) have more to their relationship than what meets the eyes.”

“No, not that way! You are using too much force!” The distant voice of Princess Shuri rings in Ayo’s ears as she recalls the memory, of which she was subject to due to her guard station being inside the laboratory at the time.

(Y/N), who had become the subject of Shuri’s weapon testing for the day, was testing out a new toy the princess had forged. The armorer was always willing to indulge in the princess’s antics, much to the distaste of General Okoye, who grounded herself in the traditional use of the signature Dora spear.

“You never said anything about force dynamics, Princess!” (Y/N) retorts, playfully of course. The two had a sort of older sister-younger sister relationship, and so it wasn’t uncommon to see the two bicker whenever they were in each other’s presence.

“Perhaps being around so many spears has made your mind one-tracked. Anyone would think to not lunge it that hard,” Shuri shot back, “you could have broken through the window!”

“Do you see how she talks to me, Ayo?” (Y/N) scoffs to the guard stationed at the threshold of the lab. “I greatly donate my time and this is how she treats me! My heart is wounded, dear princess!”

“You should be thankful that I save you from the torture of which Okoye puts you through! I hear training with her leaves all the Dora in excruciating pain!” Shuri retaliates, as she moves over to the holographic screen to swipe and type away.

Ayo laughs as the scene plays out - it was always an entertaining shift whenever (Y/N) visited the laboratory.

“Excruciating pain, eh? Shall I give you a taste of it?” 

In a split second, (Y/N)’s arms are around Shuri’s midsection, and the princess shrieks as she is swung around like a sack of yams. It is a sight that makes many of the laboratory staff pause their projects and take a short break to witness the playful interaction, laughter being shared amongst everyone in the room. Even the Dora warriors who stand guard break their stoic personas, letting a smile or a chuckle pass through their masks at Shuri’s pleads to be put down, unhanded by the stronger woman.

Just as quickly as the atmosphere in the laboratory warmed up into something familial, the laughter and the murmuring comes to a halt. It is quickly replaced with the stone cold silence native to this space, and when (Y/N) puts Shuri down, she realizes why everything has suddenly went quiet.

King T’Challa and General Okoye have arrived.

(Y/N) was quick to put up her salute to the king and Okoye as mortification ricocheted throughout her body. While she and the princess were more like sisters than royal and subject, T’Challa’s new title made the armorer unsure of how her actions would be perceived.

(Y/N) went to apologize for her behavior, but T’Challa cut her off before she could speak, “As you were, (Y/N).”

She dropped her arms from the ‘x’ position on her chest, and stood straight to meet T’Challa’s eyes. The king had a smirk on his lips, “I think I will just take a hug - I do not wish to be thrown around like a sack of yams.”

The king’s playfulness made your embarrassment from earlier sink away, as you first clasped your hands together, pulled them away with a snap, and ending the shake with a first bump and a side hug. Though your hug could not be initiated, as Shuri hurriedly shoved her way in between the two of you. Like the child she was, she stuck her tongue out at you while wrapping herself around her brother’s midsection.

“Do you see this, my king?” You scoff, referencing the lack of manners  on the princess’s behalf.

“Shuri, I am starting to think you deserved to be swung around like a sack of yams,” says T’Challa, his large hand coming down to ruffle the girl’s head of braids. Shuri protested this, pushing his hand off with a huff. “You are my brother! You should be on my side-!”

“-and what side is that, princess?” (Y/N) cut her off with a snarky look on her face. “The side of which taunts her subjects?”

“I think you have more than my taunting to worry about, (Y/N).” Shuri retorts, sticking her nose up at (Y/N). The armorer is confused for a moment before she follows Shuri’s gaze to Okoye, who stands next to T’Challa, examining her nails. Suddenly, (Y/N) remembers something important in regards to the general.

“So, this is where you hide when it is time for the scheduled maintenance work on the spears?”

Shit, that was today.

“Um…” (Y/N) attempts to try and find an excuse to justify her forgetful nature, but all that comes out of her mouth is a questionable “no?”

“Ooooo, (Y/N)’s gonna get iiiittt!” Shuri taunts the armorer, as if her antics did not play a part in this confrontation. T’Challa takes his free hand and flicks Shuri’s forehead, to which the young scientist winces audibly. “Be nice, Shuri.” He scolds. 

At that moment, Shuri conveniently remembers she had something to show her older brother, and she whisks the clueless man off to the lower level of the laboratory. Leaving (Y/N) to face Okoye’s wrath alone. How cheeky of her.

“Okoye, I can explain-”

“You were testing incredulous weaponry again.”

“In my defense, she asked me!”

Okoye scoffs as she turns on her heel to leave. (Y/N) follows closely behind, stuttering about how it was actually a decent weapon and that she could give it a try - but Okoye ignores her excuses as she continues her beeline out of the laboratory. (Y/N) stops as she is just at the threshold, meeting eyes with Aneka.

“Pray for me, Ayo, I fear I have gotten on her bad side again.”

“In Bast’s name, you make it out of that armory alive.” says the Dora with a sympathetic smile, as (Y/N) continues her trudge in Okoye’s footsteps.

Though it was not her first time witnessing such an interaction between the two, Ayo could attest that the manner in which Okoye addressed you was not the same manner she would address her, or Aneka, or any Dora Milaje. In fact, it could easily be considered the easiest the military general has ever been on anyone. Ever.

“Our General is not forgiving, Aneka; you know this as well as I do,”

“This is true. However, the General is known to be apprehensive to change. Have you forgotten how she reprimanded me for using the knives Shuri gifted me?”

“I warned you not to bring them, my love-”

“While that may be true, I disagree that that encounter alone would be enough to solidify the idea that (Y/N) and the general are more than good friends.”

Aneka did have a point. To anyone outside of Okoye’s inner circle, the encounter could still be deemed as Okoye being her normal, authoritative self, someone who mocks technology despite its evident positive service in the advancement of the country. Okoye was a traditional woman through and through, and where she mocked technological science, you embraced it. Anyone could see how that would cause bickering between.

“There is another incident…” Ayo began, hesitance laced in her voice, “an incident I was not meant to see.”

“You would think, as head of the armory, you would be more careful around sharp objects,” Okoye scolded, her attention focused on your hand as she worked to disinfect the wound. In an attempt to catch a falling spear, the blade cut into your flesh. The injury sustained was not so dire in which you had to seek medical attention from Shuri, but the wound would make it difficult to work with your hand for a while, as the gash was from the place between your thumb and forefinger and straight across your hand.

You winced as the antiseptic was used on your hand, the slight sting of the liquid bringing you discomfort. “In my defense, I underestimated the length of the spear.”

“‘In my defense’ my arse,” Okoye scoffed, her use of profanity wasn’t common in her nature. She only used it around you, someone she didn’t have to hold her authoritative persona up around, “you need to be more careful. You can not run to me whenever you are hurt. We are not children anymore.”

“Oh, but you have always been better at healing me than anyone, Okoye,” you chimed at the woman, who rolled her eyes at your silliness. In an attempt to defy your statement, the general pulled the gauze wrap around your hand a bit too tight. It caused you to gasp in pain, but it became quickly apparent what Okoye was doing. “You- Bast, why do you insist on hurting me?” You remark, as Okoye returns to wrapping your wound.

At the time, there was a hidden message in those words, a message neither of you were truly ready to confront.

“I hope this will teach you to be more mindful of where you put your hands,” Okoye said with a sigh as she packed up the first-aid kit. She stood, and walked with the kit in hand to return it to it’s rightful storage place in the corner of the armory room.

“I do not recall that being an issue the other night.”

“Oh, Bast, purge this woman’s mind of the filth she speaks!”

Okoye’s reaction caused you to laugh hysterically. It was jokes like these that could only be shared between the two of you in certain privacy. Okoye had an image to uphold, and you understood that. Even so, it did not stop you from your attempts at flustering the woman, even more so freely now that you did not have to share her with her husband anymore.

Okoye returned to your side, taking your hand into hers and examining her work. “How does it feel?”

“It’s fine, it’s alright.”

“Not to tight now, right?”

“Okoye, it’s fine.”

“No, it doesn’t look wrapped right-” You cut Okoye’s words short by taking your uninjured hand and grasping onto her wrists, restraining them in your lap. Your bandaged hand went to cup her cheek, the clean white of the gauze contrasting greatly, yet beautifully, with her cocoa-colored skin.

“It. Is. Fine. You did good, do not worry yourself over a simple cut.” You chastised, your voice soft yet firm to the general.

Okoye begrudgingly allowed her hands to relax in your grip, and to lean in to your hand. A moment of silence was shared between the two of you.

“How do you feel?” You asked, after what felt like forever staring into her eyes. Eyes of which held so, so much, in such a small, small window.

“I am…” the general’s words trailed off as she averted her gaze elsewhere. For Okoye, this was not a simple question to answer.

She had lost her husband to treachery, his mind blinded by revenge so much so that he went against his own country, forcing her to take a stance she never thought she’d have to take, but nonetheless, stepped up to the occasion. This was the man she married, the man she hoped to bear children with, to leave behind a legacy of love and loyalty to each other, to their people, to their country.

And it was gone, just like that. “How does one feel when their entire world was stripped from them?”

It was a question you couldn’t even ask yourself, as you couldn’t even begin to put yourself in her shoes.

The general took your uninjured hand into hers, squeezing it tightly for comfort. “I am here. I am with you. That is…all I can be, right now.”

It took everything in you to not take that second statement out of context, close to heart. Yet, you couldn’t stop your heart from swelling with pride at the idea that Okoye deemed you worthy of her presence, when everyone else she had casted away.

“And I am here with you, my friend.” you replied, though the word ‘friend’ had become harder and harder to speak nowadays. You returned the gesture, squeezing her hand to let her know that she was not alone. 

“And I thank you for being here with me, through all of this,” Okoye uttered, “you have stood by my side through everything. Glory to Bast that she has blessed me with such a friend as you.”

Where your heart once swelled with pride, was deflated by the confirmation of your friendship. And when Okoye brung herself to wrap her arms around your neck in a close hug, your heart battled ferociously with what emotions you should allow yourself to feel. 

To be in her warmth was all you’ve ever wanted; to bask in her love was a thought you guiltily indulged in every night. Yet, the reality of it all, was that the only way to gain even the closest proximity of being deemed worthy of her affections, was through the friendship you had maintained since you were children.

If the only way to feel her love and affection was through the lenses of friendship, then you would break your own heart every time with the mention of the word. Anything was worth keeping Okoye content.

It was only when the general had left to attend to other business, and you heard the massive door to the armory close shut, that you let the tears that had been prickling at the brim of your eyes, fall onto the white gauze wrapped around your hand, dampening the fabric to a soft gray of despair.

Aneka remained silent after Ayo finished her recollection of a few months prior. She did not know what stunned her more, the fact that Okoye had only been open to (Y/N) about her emotional turmoil of everything thus far, or the fact that the general, who prized herself on reading opponents skillfully, had been oblivious to her supposed best friend’s true feelings after all.

“Convinced now, my love?”

“Indeed so.”

It was a tragic love story indeed. However, the two hoped that it wasn’t too late, that this love story would not end prematurely.

“Ayo, Aneka!”

Shuri’s voice could be heard down the corridor, Each warrior peered their head down the hall, as Shuri walked briskly towards them. “Gear up. We leave in an hour.”

“Gear up?”

“Leave?”

When Shuri made it to the end of the corridor, she turned to face the two. “We have a location. It is not concrete, and we have to move fast. It has been three days too long, we cannot waste another second.”

Ayo and Aneka looked at each other, then back to Shuri. With a nod and salute, the pair of Dora rushed to prepare for departure.

The first thing that hits you when your consciousness returns, is the water.

It’s very distinctive. The smell, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore. The seagulls that make their home in nests along the rocky cliffs near the body of water. 

It’s peaceful. Serene. There’s an urge to return to the neutral comfort of unconsciousness, but something tells you to resist. A calm, soothing voice, easing you away from the darkness of slumber, coaxing you to tread into the blinding, warm light. The further you fall into it, the clearer the voice becomes.

You reluctantly peel your eyes open. Your vision is blurry, and there's an uncomfortable ringing in your ears. Everything begins to hit you all at once; the pounding headache that crashes in waves through your skull, the soreness of your body, especially in your midsection, and the overwhelming feeling that you’re not supposed to be here.

Then again, where exactly is ‘here’?

And who exactly were you?

It takes a moment for you to notice the young girl who hovers above you, a worried look on her face. You see that she calls out to someone, but your hearing is still slightly overwhelmed by the persistent ringing in your ears.

Your body begins to act on its own. Despite the intense pain that swarms you when you move, you attempt to sit up. Your back finds something hard and wooden to lean against, giving you a wider view of your surroundings. You are starting to have questions, and someone needs to answer them.

It’s as if your thoughts were spoken into existence, as another figure, older than the young girl who sits beside you, enters from the wooden doorway. It’s here you finally notice that you are outside, on some patio, connected to some cabin like structure. This is why you were able to be soothed by the sound of the waters - a massive lake is a few mere meters away.

You hear the older woman ushering the child inside. In her hand she holds a cup, and your mind begins to wonder what could be inside. Water? Tea? Or perhaps something more sinister.

No, this woman doesn’t give off a sinister aura. If anything, she seems to be a caretaker. The same questions begin to muddle in your head more profoundly - where were you, who were you, and what happened to you?

The woman approaches you slowly, with her free hand held into view to show she was not a threat. While your body tensed in defense, you allowed her into your space. She didn’t pose an immediate threat, but you had to keep your guard up while your senses were still recovering.

“You’re awake; that’s good. You were out for a minute there,” She speaks, though her voice is still slightly muffled. Once she’s kneeled at your side, she positions the cub in her hand to your lips, urging you to drink. “Trust me, you need it.”

Slowly, you allow the liquid from the cup to flow into your mouth. It’s water - cold, refreshing, and for the first time since you’ve woken up you realize just how parched you are. With some unknown strength you managed to conjure up, you take the cup from the woman's hand and down the rest of the water in one gulp. The feeling of it washes through your being, and now you can feel some sense of strength return to your body.

“Where am I…?” you ask, voice hoarse and raspy from lack of hydration. The cup is discarded at your side, opposite of which the woman sits.

“You’re at my cabin; I live here on the lakefront,” She answers. “We  found you a couple of days ago washed up on the shore. You were hurt pretty bad, we did the best we could-”

“We?” You questioned, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Myself and the children,” The woman clarifies. “The girl that was just here, Yasmine, she found you when she was outside collecting from our garden. Saw your body near the water and came to get me.”

Your head stiffly follows to where she points to - an area a little bit off into the distance where other children currently played. 

“My name is Shara,” the woman speaks once more, and you nod in acknowledgement. “Do you remember anything?”

You shook your head no, but the pain from your head caused you to wince audibly. With your vision clearing up, you could finally take in the woman who helped you. Dark skin, long locs with gold and silver adornments. She wore earth tones and sported an oversized cardigan that covered much of the top half of her body, her bottom half covered in a long, flowing skirt.

Shara took note of your response, as well as looking over your midsection. Your shirt was pinned up just below your breasts, which gave easier access to your stomach area. White gauze was wrapped around your midsection with a spot on your lower right stomach bleeding through with a dull red.

“It’s about time to change your bandages again,” She noted, as she began to stand up.

You were confused at first, until you slowly looked down to see your midsection expertly bandaged up. It made sense now why your abdomen hurts way more than anywhere else on your body.

Shara muttered that she would be back in a moment, leaving you alone on the patio. You turned your head to the lake, staring at the way the waters met with the shores, then pulled back, only to do so once more; your mind began traveling somewhere deep into the banks of your memory.

The waves crashed against the shoreline, the sound of land meeting water overwhelming your senses. Your eyes were closed as you took in your surroundings through your other senses. The dry sand that your feet stood on, the boulder of which you sat on, the smell of the water, the sound of the waves and the birds. It was home to you. The waters brought you solace in distress, and validated your rage, accepting you in silence for who you were.

Okoye had asked you to meet her here at dusk, and yet, you found yourself on the sandy shores an hour earlier. Whatever she wanted to talk about, it had to have been important, and whether it was good news or bad, the urgency of which she called you made anxiety pool in your stomach. Your mind still tried to guess what she may have wanted. Though, the guessing game was cut short when you saw her approaching in the distance.

Once she was close enough, you stood from your seat on the bolder, and you walked side by side along the shoreline. She on the side of water, you on the side of land.

“Now, what could be so important that you would drag me all the way out here to tell me?” You ask, your tone playful. The question brings a smile to her face; a genuine smile, a beautiful one. It makes your heart skip a beat. You could compare it to the brightness of the sun.

Though you know the answer to part of your own question. Okoye was never one to show emotion around other people. It had been this way since your childhood years. You were thankful to Bast that she deemed you worthy of being present in her more vulnerable states.

“Oh, please. You act as if you did not want a reason to escape from that dark, dingy armory chamber,” She shoots back, nudging you with her shoulder. You  returned the favor, a chuckle escaping your lips. “Perhaps…but that does not answer my question, General.”

Okoye takes a deep breath, glancing at you from the corner of her eye. “Do you remember the man who courts me?”

“Yes. W’Kabi of the Border Tribe…He does not have a face one can forget.” You reply, a hint of mischief in your voice in the way you describe the Border Tribe member.

“(Y/N)!”

“I am simply saying he has a very…distinguishable face! Nothing More!’

You did not like this W’Kabi man. Frankly, you never liked anyone who approached Okoye in an attempt to enact courtship. They all had ill intentions, which were proven right thanks to your keen perception. And for the most part, Okoye would take heed to your advice and steer away from these suitors.

Your feelings had no dealing in those matters, and neither did they this one.

However, Okoye was stubborn when it came to W’Kabi. Despite your numerous attempts at telling her to keep the man at arms length, Okoye was certain that he was the one for her. He had proven himself worthy to be a suitor and while he left an ill-taste in your mouth, Okoye was strong in her decision, and so you relented. Even if you did feel a tightness in your chest whenever you saw the two together.

“Well…he has proposed.”

You stopped dead in your tracks. Suddenly, the crashing waves were no longer comforting; they became violently overwhelming as your chest began to tighten in an emotion you could not put a name to, did not know you could feel.

W’Kabi…proposed?

“-(Y/N), did you not hear me?”

The general had stopped a feet or two in front of you, looking at you with a raised brow. Okoye’s voice grounds you, clears your hearing, but the tightness in your chest still lingers. “W-What?”

“I said, do not be upset now that you may have to share me.”

You were quick to come up with a cover, though whether or not she was able to see the crack in your persona, you did not know. You just had to keep the conversation going.

“I am just surprised…did not think he had the gall to do it.” You replied, a truthful statement be it so, but nonetheless, a coverup for what you really wanted to say.

“Yes, indeed. I did not think so either.”

As breathtaking as her smile was, and even though mere moments ago it had warmed your heart, it cut you deeply to know that she was smiling for another. Another man. Another man who had proposed to her-

“And what of you?”

“I accepted.”

-Another man she is to wed.

Okoye took two steps towards you, closing the distance between the two of you. She takes hold on your hands, and makes direct eye contact with you. You struggled to hold her gaze, but in order to keep it together, you persisted.

“I accepted, and I want you there.”

‘Bast, have you forsaken me?’ You thought.

“You are the only friend I have ever known. The only person I have ever truly trusted. Even as children, you have stood beside me. Protected me. We have protected each other. And if I am to wed, I need you there beside me.”

Without thinking, you nodded. “Of course, Okoye. You will have me there.”

And while on the outside you were grateful for Okoye finally finding her happiness, on the inside, a piece of you died, knowing that not only does her heart belong to another, you would have to watch her marry a man who’s place should have been yours.

“According to my calculations, we should be in our target area by nightfall.”

The princess’s words were exact, and with Ayo and Aneka piloting the triangular shaped ship, the four would arrive at their destination in no time.

“Once we touch ground, we will split up into teams of two - Ayo and Aneka will search north, Okoye and I will search south…”

Shuri, noticing that Okoye was not paying attention to the breakdown of the plan, released a soft sigh as she turned off the holographic screen above the sand table that sat in the middle of the aircraft. 

For the most part, Shuri, Aneka and Ayo were still unaware of the cause of this entire ordeal. Shuri had her suspicions, after being approached by her mother, Queen Ramonda, of how (Y/N) came to her and the council specifically to request permission for a week-long extraction mission. (Y/N), a palace official in charge of weaponry, who barely left palace grounds since her instatement as Royal Armorer, requested an extraction mission on the other side of the world to recover an artifact of Wakandan origins; the item in question being laced with vibranium.

Something was not right, and the queen-mother brought this up to Shuri in hopes that the princess could get some answers out of Okoye in a more gentle manner, that wasn’t just responding to an authoritative figure.

For Shuri, (Y/N) was an older sister. Someone who could confide in when she could not even turn to her mother. (Y/N) trained Shuri in basic combat, assisted the princess in weapon testing, and even entertained the princess when she went on pranking tyraids in her youth. The armorer was a comforting shoulder for the princess during the mourning period of T’Challa’s death, and provided a sense of stability to her. Of course, (Y/N)’s actions were off. And Shuri had an idea why.

“General Okoye, may I speak with you for a moment?” Shuri says as she starts to walk towards the exit at the back of the pilot cabin. Okoye acknowledged the words the princess spoke, but for some reason, did not not show signs of movement. “In private, please.”

Aneka and Ayo shared a look, and then their gaze connected to Okoye’s. The general, who had been deep in thought, fiddling with her spear, placed the weapon back into its holding rack, and followed the princess outside of the pilot cabin. Aneka and Ayo were left to pilot the ship, conjuring up theories as to what the Princess needed to speak to Okoye about in private.

Leading the Dora general into the cargo section of the ship, Shuri turned on her heel to face the general, and began to unfold her interrogation. “You seem distracted, general. Would you care to speak your mind?”

Okoye stood firm and straight, and while she wore the mask she always dawned as a faithful member of the Dora Milaje, Shuri could see that pieces of it were beginning to crack. “I am simply worried about (Y/N), Princess.”

“We all are, Okoye,” Shuri replied. She took a couple of steps towards the warrior, closing the distance between them. “It is just me, Okoye, there is no need to be so stiff.”

Shuri watched for a moment as Okoye;s figure began to ease from the aforementioned stiff position she took. One could tell that the weight of this mission was getting to her.

“We all are worried for (Y/N),” Shuri reiterated, “so in order for this rescue mission to be successful, I need to know what happened between you and her.”

There was a moment of silence. Shuri kept a close eye on Okoye’s face as the general searched for an explanation. And that was when she saw it.

Another crack in the general’s mask.

“We had a…disagreement on a certain matter, nothing more-”

“Okoye, do not-” Shuri stopped herself mid-sentence to compose her voice, taking another step closer to the general. They were face to face now.

“Okoye, this is (Y/N) we are talking about here. (Y/N), the Royal Armorer, who never leaves city grounds, let alone palace grounds. (Y/N), who dedicates her life for the betterment of the Wakandan armed forces via her position as weapons specialist.”

Shuri pauses, taking a breath, and when seeing Okoye’s eyes divert once more, she continues in her speech.

“One month ago, everything was fine. I would even go as far as to say things were like how they were before when Brother was alive. And then, a week ago, (Y/N) goes to my mother and the council requesting a week-long extraction mission, in a very dangerous part of the world-”

“I told her not to go, Shuri-”

“And while that may be true, Okoye,” Shuri took another pause, watching Okoye’s face intently, “something else happened. Something else happened, between the two of you, and I need to know exactly what.”

Shuri’s eyes bore deep into Okoye’s searching for a sign of breakthrough into the general's psyche. If Okoye knew what was best, then she would confess whatever she was hiding.

Okoye turned away, stepped away until her side faced the princess. Raising a hand to her face, Okoye bit her fist, fighting back the urge to scream out her confession into the steel gray walls of the cargo cabin.

“It is my fault,” the general choked out, as she knocked her fist into her forehead out of frustration.

“What is your fault, Okoye?” Shuri asks, approaching the general once more. Okoye turns back to face the princess after a moment of self-contemplation. Her mask has fallen.

“Everything,” Okoye whispers, as she recalls the night of your argument as if it had happened the night prior.

“I deserve an explanation, Okoye!”

Your voice rose higher than the sound of the crashing waves, as you marched after the general ahead of you. It was nightfall, with the moon high in the sky and the stars shining bright in the blanket of night. Despite the beauty that the scene may have held, havoc was about to be wreckin.

“Leave me be, (Y/N)!” Okoye warned, several steps ahead of you. She did not want to talk right now; about anything, and sure not about you.

The warrior felt your hand grip onto her forearm and spin her around to face you. Your face held many emotions, as did hers, but you could not care how far your mask had slipped. You had already laid bare everything you had felt for Okoye months ago. Both of you in a drunken daze, one high on love, the other drowning in heartache. One thing led to another, and the morning after, you found yourself having to sneak back into your room before you were to meet with Shuri about weapon modifications.

You had suspected it to be a one night thing, an event never to be spoken of out of the confines of each other's presence. But when Okoye found comfort in your arms, something you had always dreamed of becoming reality, your heart gave in to her whims. Night after night, you would forget the world in which the two of you lived in, and indulge in each other. A world in which her husband was banished from Wakanda, dissolving their marriage, and her heart aches for the traitor she married. A world in which she would never see you as the lover you wished to be. A world in which you selfishly wished Okoye would be yours, and you hers. A world in which she would never return your affections.

And yet, the more it keeps happening, the more you’d wake up in her arms, in awe of the halo that adorned her dark, half-covered figure from the sunrise seeping into your room, the more you hoped that maybe, just maybe, things would be different.

Perhaps you were foolish to will yourself to believe things would turn out in your favor. But you did not initiate anything, and you have done no wrong against Okoye, so what reason did she have to pull away?

“I will do no such thing,” you retorted. “Why? After so long, why is it now that you wish to stop?”

“I told you- I cannot do this anymore-” Okoye replied, using her hands to gesture between the two of you, “-this, whatever this is, I can’t do it!”

“And what is it that we do, Okoye?” You questioned. “Love? Act as lovers? If it had stopped after that night, I’d understand, but you- you continued! You came back to me, again, and again, and again, and I let you!”

“It was a mistake to begin this in the first place!” The general blurted out. “What reason do we have to continue?”

“What reason do we have not to?!”

“(Y/N), please-” Okoye choked out, reaching out for your hand, “I do not need this right now- I just need you to stand beside me-”

“I HAVE STOOD BESIDE YOU!” 

You yanked your hand away, and to this, Okoye flinched. Of all your years of knowing her, never once have you yelled or screamed at her. It is now that she sees your face - your eyes puffy and bloodshot from crying, tears running streaks down your face.

“I stood beside you when we were children,” You choked out through your tears, “I stood beside you when unworthy suitors came to your door, and you still gave them a chance. I stood beside you as you married a traitor, a man who’s place I could have been in! I stood beside you when Killmonger took the throne, and the Queen and Princess had to flee to Jabariland for protection! I stood beside you as you mourned your marriage! If I have done anything, I have always! Been! Beside you!”

Okoye is at a loss for words as she watches you brush a hand down your face, dampening your skin with the salty water that leaks from your eyes. “And yet, when I only ask to stay in your arms for a little while longer, suddenly my sacrifices are invalid? My love, is invalid?”

Okoye could not speak, whatever words she wanted to utter were stuck under the lump in her throat as her eyes began to swell with tears.

“I have lied to myself, hoping that one day, you would see my love for what it is truly worth. But I cannot live in a lie anymore. And if your wish is to leave you be….then so be it. But one thing will always remain clear,” Okoye’s eyes became fixated on your finger that pointed towards her in accusation.

“I have never not been by your side. No matter how much it killed me, I have always been there. And you, Okoye, Daughter of Wakanda, have just murdered the last of me.

“Thank you,” You replied, as Shara handed you a cup of tea.

She had changed your bandages earlier in the day, and since you had regained most of your strength, you were able to sit and stand on your own now. Shara was a natural healer, and you were thankful for her ability to patch you up so well.

It was nightfall now, the moon hanging high in the sky and the stars shining brightly alongside it. The children of Shara’s cabin played near the water a bit into the distance. The sight of them having fun and enjoying themselves brought a smile to your face.

Shara sat next to you, hiding her hands under her arms to keep them warm from the cool night air. “How are you feeling?”

“Nothing is as sore anymore. Aside from not remembering anything, and…obviously, the injury, I cannot complain.” You reply. “Though…earlier, I had this…recollection, of sorts. Of a memory.”

“Really?” Shara whispered, shocked.

You nodded, staring into the cup of tea she had handed you. “Of a woman. We stood at a beach, similar to this one. She skin was dark, the color of coffee beans. Her eyes held wonders. And her smile…it was as bright as the sun itself.”

Shara tilted her head a bit with a chuckle, “You sure you didn’t love her?”

“I….I think I did.” You confirmed. “But…she was to wed another. And while it was only a memory, I felt the tightness in my chest just as intensely.”

“That’s…so sad. I’m so sorry.”

“If it is true, then there is nothing I can do. Especially in this state, with no memory.”

There is a comfortable silence that falls between the two of you as you both watch the children in the distance attempting to catch fireflies. The struggling of the smaller ones made you chuckle, as well as Shara, as the older children try to teach them how to catch the fireflies gently.

“I am curious,” You begin, turning your head to face the healer, “what is your story? How are you connected to this place?”

“Hm, well, I’ve lived here most of my life.” Shara began, raising her knees to her chest and placing her chin on them. “My mom died when I was pretty young. My father didn’t want me to be surrounded by grief, and so we relocated here. He built this cabin with his own two hands. And the children you see playing, well, he adopted them in a sense.”

You nodded along to her story as your took your first sip of the tea she had made you, relishing in the flavor and the warmth that pooled into your stomach from it.

“He died two years ago. He was the person that taught me everything I know about healing and spiritual herbalism. And I pass that teaching onto the children here. We are his legacy. One day they’ll go out into the world, learn more, teach more. And then their pupils will go further out and learn more and teach more. It was kind of my dads dream, you see. He wanted to cultivate the next generation of healers. I swore to myself that I would continue his dream after he passed.”

“You are a good daughter. Your father is proud, in whatever plane of existence he resides in.”

Shara watches as you take another sip of the tea, a proud smile making its way onto her lips. “Do you like it?”

“It is definitely a good drink. What is it, exactly?”

Shara thought for a moment, before reply, “It’s something called Black Panther Lily? It’s from my father’s secret stash. It felt appropriate to give it to you,” her words trailed off as you looked at her, confused on the name. “Black Panther Lily?”

“Mhm. I believe he said he got it from Wakanda?”

“Wakanda, you say…”

At the mention of the country, your eyes trailed back to the cup holding the delicious black liquid. The more you stared at your reflection in the cup, the deeper your mind seemed to travel back into your subconscious. The word kept ringing in your ears, and you could have sworn you heard it before.

Suddenly, the black liquid in the cup turned into dark onyx eyes, sported by the same woman who you had described for. You saw flashes of yourself with her, flashes of other people you were close with. Muffled words began to bleed into your ears, phrases of description, endearment, love, friendship. And your name…a montage of these people saying your name, and it became louder and louder until the voices became overwhelming and-

The next thing you know, the cup laid fallen on the ground, it’s context spilled and seeping into the earth below. Shara holds a hand on your upper harm, her face showing concern. You must have been out of it.

“Are you alright? You weren’t responding, I-”

“I know who I am now.”

Shara allowed her sentence to be cut off, as she released her hold on your arm, and looked at you with watchful eyes, seemingly asking you to reveal yourself.

“My name is (Y/N)...I am a daughter of Wakanda.” You muttered. It was at this moment you realized your wrist felt bare. Your other hand instinctively went to feel at the wrist which would normally be occupied by your kimoyo beads, but you found that space empty.

“Where are my beads?” You questioned the healer, as if she had any dea what you were talking about. She stared at you, confused for a moment, before her face turned to an expression that resembled realization. She got up quickly, disappearing into the doorway, only to return a moment later with a purple sack in her hand.

“I’m not sure what beads you’re talking about,” she confessed, “but when Yasmine found you, these remains were in the sand. We salvaged what we could find.”

You took the sack from her hands, opening the bag and examining the contents inside. Whatever had attacked you completely demolished your kimoyo beads, ruining any ideas you had for initiating communication back home. Also inside the bag were your twin blades, a gift to you from Shuri, and one of them had the blade separated from the hilt.

“And how long was I unconscious?” You questioned.

“Not counting today, three,” Shara replied, her worry growing, “what’s going on, (Y/N)?”

You muttered a curse under your breath. Three days since last contact, and a week and a half since you’ve been on Wakandan soil. They’re definitely looking for you.

It was at that moment a loud whirring sound made itself present, the volume startling the children. But it was what made the sound that had them running back to the cabin and rushing inside the wooden structure for safety. You and Shara stood up simultaneously; while she remained on high alert, her main goal being to guard the door and protect the children inside, you on the other hand, went to guard her. You were unsure of who was on the ship, but if it was any Dora, or worse, the General, it would be without a doubt they would suspect Shara as an enemy and attack. 

Once the massive ship had settled into it’s standby position, the mouth of the aircraft opened, and descending the walkpath were two women dressed in Dora Milaje attire, and the Princess, sporting one of her many futuristic streetwear outfits.

Your feet began to act on their own, taking a couple of steps towards the trio. Part of you was relieved that they found you. You remembered that before you blacked out, the last place you were was in the middle of the lake, retrieving a long lost artifact from a marine data collection ship. With your kimoyo beads being shattered, there was virtually no technological way of tracking your location. They would have had to go old school and search on foot. Had they?

As you made the conscious decision to stop walking, Shuri sprinted from Ayo and Aneka’s side, crashing into you with an embrace full of relief, thankful for your safety.

“Thank Bast you are safe!” The princess cried as you returned her hug, enveloping the younger woman in your arms. 

Though, what was a sweet moment turned sour when you felt her fist jab right into the area of injury.

“What were you thinking!?” Shuri shouted at you as you collapsed onto the ground, holding your midsection for dear life. “Are you a fool for taking on a mission such as this? You could have died! In all my years of knowing you, this is truly your most profound act of madness!”

“What the fuck did you just do!?” Shara’s shout of distress reminded you of her presence. You should have warned her of the princess’s rage, perhaps explain the relationship you two had, but it was all too late now.

“It’s fine, Shara!” you reassured through gritted teeth, “I deserved that- I really deserved that.”

It was a moment before the blinding pain had stopped. With the release of it being almost instantaneous, you could only assume Shuri had lifted your shirt from your back and slipped one of her kimoyo beads into the bandages to stablize the would she probably reopened. Once you were able to breath again, you confirmed as such by feeling the small bump underneath the white bandages on your back.

“I am getting you back for this, I hope you know,” you warned the princess as you sat up straight, now able to move without caution. Though, Shuri paid no mind to your warning, as she hugged you again, this time without ill intentions.

After your moment of embrace, you pulled away, remembering the healer behind you. It would be inappropriate to not introduce the two. Lifting Shuri up from her knees, you guided her closer to the cabin, where a shooken Shara still guarded the entrance way.

Shara attempted to warn you both to stay back, but you cut her off, “Shara, It’s okay. I am good, I promise. She poses no threat to you or the children.”

With your words, the healer seemed to relax a little, but still would not move from her position in the doorway.

“Shara, this is Princess Shuri of Wakanda. Shuri, this is Shara.” The princess and the healer exchanged an awkward wave, as Shara was still in disbelief of her actions towards you. “She started the healing process on my stomach - which I am sure you have reopened, thank you for that.”

“I apologize for frightening you,” Shuri said, a genuine look of regret painted on her face. “I promise you, I bring no harm. That is just, eh…how we are.”

“Uhuh…” Shara muttered, still overly confused by the entire ordeal.

“I guarantee you we have a stable, healthy sisterhood!”

Shara’s gaze turns to you, questioningly, “This is the woman you had that flashback about?”

It took a moment to remember what Shara was referencing, but once you did, you shook your head feverishly. “Oh-Oh hell no. This-This is my sister, I cannot imagine anyone who would want to date her-”

“Excuse me?” The princess says, with a facial expression equivalent of the phrase ‘say it again, I dare you’.

“I mean-” you backtracked, “-you are so lovely! Anyone would be grateful of your courtship!”

“That is what I thought.”

Though, reflecting on Shara’s words, you did notice that there were only two Dora accompanying Shuri, and not three.

Had Okoye not come? 

A part of you ached at the idea that she may not have come with them, but given the severity of your argument prior to your mission, if you were in her position, you would not come either.

You remember the harsh words you spoke to her, out of anger and desperation. It made you want to rip the kimoyo bead from your back and welcome back the pain in your abdomen, if it were to replicate whatever Okoye must have felt in that moment. How could you have hurt the woman you loved you deeply, with words that flew from your mouth based on emotion and not rationale.

You were too deep into your thoughts to notice that Shuri was gesturing for you to snap out of it. Apparently Shuri and Shara had been talking for a moment before noticing you had dissociated. You gently shook your head of the fuzz that formed in your mind, responding with a low “Huh?”

“Has she been doing this often?” Shuri asks, her question directed to Shara.

“It happened maybe once or twice earlier, but like i said, she’d been out of it until today.”

“Why do you wound my heart, princess…” You whined, feigning distress as you gripped your heart dramatically. The action brought a smile to Shuri and Shara’s face, and as they found entertainment in your dramatics, you bent down to pick up the purple sack long forgotten on the ground.

“As great as this encounter has been, we must return home,” Shuri's voice was filled with something along the lines of dejection, as if she did not want to leave this newfound acquaintance just yet. “Someone has some explaining to do.” The princess added on, and to you, her words held much more meaning than what meets the eye.

Shara nodded in response, ready to bid you two farewell. But as you began walking off with the princess, something along the lines of unease settled in your stomach. You could not distinguish the cause, but when you turned your head back to watch Shara reassure the children that were peaking their heads from the doorway, something deep inside urged you to ask her one final question.

You told Shuri and the pair of Dora that you would join them in a little bit, as you turned back to approach the cabin once more.

“Shara,” you called out, and the healer raised her head, diverting the attention she was giving to the child at her leg to you. As your feet stopped at the edge of the patio you found yourself waking up on early that morning, you inhaled deeply, clenching and unclenching your fists for grounding.

“Ungubani(Who Are You)?” You spoke in Xhosa.

There was a long pause as the two of you held eye contact for what felt like an eternity. Then she responded.

“I am T’Jari,” Shara answered, “daughter of N’Joba and Zusu.”

Your stomach’s unease was finally quelled.

“Did you know I was…?”

“I had my suspicions,” Shara confessed, “the pieces of those beads and the weapon I found scattered in the sand around you were unlike any technology I’ve ever seen before. Certainly not American. Her reference to the kimoyo beads and your twin blades made you instinctively grip onto the neck of the sack a bit tighter.

“It’s also why I gave you the Black Panther Lily tea,” Shara continues, “my father had a stash hidden away. If cultivated and used the right way, it’s properties can allow for memory restoration in the event of amnesia on any level. It was the first thing my father taught me…when my mothers health started to fail and her memory was leaving her…”

You recalled the story she had told you of her origins. A mothers death, a father’s wish for contentment for his daughter.

“Besides my name, everything else I said was true,” Shara responded to your silence, as if she knew you had been questioning the validity of her identity.

“Why don’t you come home?” You asked, without thinking, without taking into consideration how this cabin by the lake was the only home she’d ever known. “You could be a healer in Wakanda, and you could bring the children. Your skills rival that of the elders, I’m sure it would not be hard to find work-”

“I can’t, (Y/N),” Shara interrupts you, her face holding remorse. Her response silenced you. “I will not rip these children from the only home they’ve ever known, and I cannot tear myself away from this place my father built with his own two hands. And there are people here to teach, people who want to learn. I can’t leave,”

Her determination and drive reminded you of the war dogs of your country, those who valiantly serve the outside world, attempting to make it a better place for future generations to come. And from Shara’s appearance she reminded you of a certain war dog who stole the heart of a certain royal long ago.

“I understand.” You replied, solemnly.

“That doesn’t mean go and become a stranger,” Shara reassured, “I’m sure the princess knows my location now. Come and visit! Just…not washed up on the shore anymore.”

You laughed at Shara’s words, bidding her farewell, before turning on your heel and walking to the ship.

You found yourself sitting on the same boulder from your memory, feet firm on the ground, and the sound of the waves from the water crashing into the shore overwhelming your senses. The smell of the water was calming, and soothed your heavy heart.

You and Okoye had to talk.

Despite being on the same aircraft, neither of you were ready to speak. You shared an embrace with one another; she approached you first, crashing into you in a flash of red, and for a moment, everything that had been the cause of this whole ordeal washed away when you wrapped your arms around each other.

Besides that, there had been nothing but silence between the two of you since you’ve returned home. But you needed to talk. You needed to clear things up and apologize. You needed closure.

It was dusk. The sun sat half way along the horizon, casting a beautiful golden hour that made your skin glow like gold. But when you saw Okoye walking up from the distance, your breath caught in your throat by the wonders the golden shine did to hers.

You made space on the boulder for her to sit and for a moment, there was silence between you two. Your gaze was straight, admiring the way the water met with the shore, engulfing the sand, but pulling back, only to do the same thing again.

“Hi.”

“...Hi.” For the first time you found yourself unable to speak.

Another moment of silence passed before Okoye spoke again. “A lot has happened on this beach, hasn’t it?”

“Mmh,” was all you could muster. It was strange how the words you planned to say left the moment she came into your presence.

“I owe you an explanation,” she spoke again, but your eyes stayed steady on the water. “A pause.”

“I did not know how I felt about you. You were a friend to me,” ‘were’; past tense.

“Someone I could depend on when I had no one. And I valued it with my life. And then W’Kabi happened. And I did not know how greatly I hurt you when you had to watch me be given away to him. I had my…suspicions, about how you felt. It was selfish of me to ask that of you, and for that I am sorry.”

You licked your lips, still silent, as Okoye continued.

“And when our marriage dissolved, you were still there. As you always were. You held me and comforted me in my heartache. And when I longed for a comfort I thought no one else could provide, you were there. And you provided it. And we…indulged. I continued to take, and take, and take from you, and you willingly gave, and gave, and gave to me without question. I acknowledge that my actions have drained you beyond replenishment, and for that, I am deeply sorry.”

Okoye watches your face. Unmoved. Tears  began prickling at the edge of your eyelids.

“I wanted to stop because I was confused. I thought I was committing some act of injustice, that what we were engaging in was not sincere-” You wanted bite back at her here, question her on exactly who she thought was not sincere in your engagement, but you bit your tongue and let her speak, “-and I could not comprehend your affections and how genuine they were…I did not wish to be betrayed again.”

There it was. The explanation you so desperately prayed for. And as the truth was revealed, the tears which formed in your eyes began to trickle down your face.

“But when you left - when you went on that mission, without telling me, despite detailing the dangers you were to face…I was losing my mind.”

You finally divert your eyes to face Okoye, only to see she had been looking at you the entire time.

“I was losing my mind. I could not sleep. I did not eat. I only worried about you. And when you did not return, I felt as if I were going mad. Deranged at the thought of losing you. And it was at that moment that my emotions became clear to me.”

Okoye’s hand reached for yours, and you let her take hold of it. She interlocked your fingers, and encased your hands with her other one. You watched as she did so, your eyes slowly raising back to meet hers.

“I cannot lose you. In any proximity. You are more important to me than anything in this world. And…if you would have me,” the general paused, taking a deep breath to stabilize her breathing, “I promise to live for you, and work to right the wrongs I have done to you.”

By now your face was ridden with tears, your voice long gone. There was a long pause in which you searched the other woman’s eyes, unsure of what you were looking for. A crumb of a lie, a sliver of deceit, perhaps. But you found none. Only ingenuity. Only affection.

After what felt like an eternity in silence, the sound of the waves your only background noise, you raised your free hand to rest at the back of her neck. You rested your forehead on Okoye’s, closing your eyes, and finally releasing the breath you didn't know you were holding.

Okoye’s eyes fluttered closed as well, and for a moment you just rested there, basking in each other’s presence. 

“I will have you,” you whispered against her lips, “I will have you until my dying breath, when Bast calls me to be with the ancestors.”

If you enjoyed, please leave a like, comment, and reblog for others to see! And don’t be shy to send in a request!

Natasha: Romance is dumb.

Bruce: … you’re literally holding Y/N’s hand.

Natasha: 

Natasha: Romance that doesn’t involve the two of us is dumb.

This would totally be me not even gon lie

Y/N: I had the weirdest dream; I was locked in a room with several versions of you who were trying to kiss me. But I'm a faithful girlfriend, and I turned them all down.

Wanda: I wouldn't be jealous of my variants, babe.

Y/N: Oh, Thank god! I totally hook up with everyone.

Wanda:

Wanda: You're sleeping on the couch tonight.

Yo… this was by far one of the BEST Ramonda fics I’ve ever read. And I need more. Y’all need to come get u one of these

King

queen! Ramonda x king! reader

“Your Highness-”

“King. Do not be afraid to say it.”

Warnings: ANGST, explicit language, implied homophobia, mentions of misogyny and sexism, character death, gore, mentions of blood, violence, etc, ends in fluff

Word Count: 8.5k+

Tags:

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Requested by: @mysteryofthe90s

A/N: Takes place in an AU where Ramonda marries reader instead of T'Chaka. Reader is of a royal bloodline and Wakanda is far less progressive than we see in our movies.

The request was literally just "reader gets kidnapped and Ramonda goes to any lengths to get her back", but of course I had to take that and run with it, but yall, I'm sooo freaking proud of this one and of the work I've been putting out recently. I hope you guys enjoy!

No greater love story exists than that of Wakanda’s rulers. 

King and Queen.

Bound together since childhood, she didn’t make a move without your hand intertwined with hers. 

She had a calculating young mind, moving about life like a chess piece in a game she was never to lose. 

Truly, Wakanda had no greater ruler than your queen. All the kingdom’s operations, all its policies were in her hands. Behind the scenes, nothing moved unless she did, not even you.

Her bronze eyes fluttered back and forth with apparent boredom. What others thought was her simply blending into the background, you recognized as profound observation. She stood, soaking in the fast-paced words of the elders far quicker than you could have imagined. 

Game plans came to play right before her with everything they tried to throw at you. 

This meeting was truly pointless, and it only called for you, but today was special, and you weren’t about to leave her out of any of the day’s events.

The elders were strategic. One fuck up on your behalf, that’s all it would take for the unforgiving geriatrics. 

“What do you foresee you are to do if the country is unsatisfied with a female as their sole protector?”

She saw the way your brows furrowed at the question. The corners of your mouth barely moved south, just a millimeter or two. You were growing frustrated with the hypotheticals. They’d been throwing them at you for over an hour now and it was taking the patience of a God to keep you respectful. 

You hadn’t ingested the heart-shaped herb yet, and you were sure telepathy wasn’t a power it would bestow on you, though you would see no use for it. King and Queen have been together so long, you’d become one- mind, soul, and body. 

Your pitch-black irises sparkled with fury, settling on her much softer ones. Her brown beauties extinguished the fire within you, even if only for a moment.

Words didn’t even need to be exchanged. You could hear her voice in your head loud and clear, though her lips remained sealed. “Control.”

Control yourself. Walk with grace. Handle your shit. 

The mantra flowed so smoothly through your mind. It was comical, how tired you’d grown of hearing it. She’d been repeating the same words, over and over and over again since you were adolescents. She found no other way to control your temper than that statement, so simple, yet so effective. 

“I do not believe my father left his throne for his daughter to be disrespected on, hm?”

Your distinguished voice led the elders to drop theirs to a mumble. What should have been complete silence at their King speaking were whispers instead. 

“Should’ve been a son-”

You couldn’t pinpoint who had said it. A disadvantage of not yet having the panther-like hearing. 

“And yet, it wasn’t; perks of being an only child. My father was proud to have a daughter, Elder. He brought me up as an heir, so that I may one day take over the mantle, both as king and as Black Panther, so with all due respect, hold your tongue.”

The smile may not have played across her face, but it danced behind her eyes. Your queen was proud; you so often attempted to ignore her when she vocalized what you did not want to hear, but clearly, you’d been listening. You spoke in such a way, the older aged Wakandans winced as though they’d been burned. 

“Your majesty, tradition states that you were to marry and-”

You did marry. She was right there in the room with you with the title of ‘Queen’ having been bestowed upon her for quite some time now.

“I did marry.”

And that was her cue.

With her head held high, the queen made her way across the board, past the onlooking pawns, through the bishops and rooks, not a knight in sight, straight to her place beside her King. 

What a handsome couple the two of you were. Her white dress contrasted deeply with your dark suit, creating a beautiful eyesore. Night and day, black and white, a menacing pair.

Though her head was absent of its crown, she stood beside you poised perfectly as though a line of string ran from her spine to the ceiling, holding it in the straightest of lines. 

“We mean no disrespect to the queen, however-”

They always mean disrespect, regardless of what they said. 

“Then I suggest you quit talking before I get disrespectful.” These closed-minded seniors could get your blood boiling like no other. Your voice wavered with anger, though your Queen’s steady words rang in your ears. “Control, my King.”

A deep breath was all it took for you to continue. “Our country is far more advanced than the small-minded council that attempts to run it. They reacted with enthusiasm when I took the throne after my father’s passing. They welcomed my Queen with open arms. I do not foresee them having a problem with my taking of the Black Panther mantle, just as my father did before me, and his father before him.”

Her hand rested on your shoulder before you could continue. To outside eyes, it was an empty gesture; to you, a hidden “well done.”

“Your Highness-”

“King. Do not be afraid to say it.”

Their hesitation proved that they were indeed, afraid to say it. The council continued to speak, your title not daring to utter from their lips. 

“What are you to do if they are not as welcoming to a female protector as they were to a woman King?”

All heads swiveled when it was not you to answer, but instead your Queen. “Do you see any reason why they would have a problem with it?”

What a funny sight, the view before you. Five ancient leaders, all mouths gaping like fish out of water. 

“Ramonda, the question was directed to the throne holder-”

Rage fueled you to your feet. “You dare speak her name, yet refuse to utter mine?”

Their cowardly forms sat silenced. Ramonda stood behind you, unfazed by your outburst, still standing straight and proud. 

“We are through here. Meeting adjourned.”

Hands intertwined as they always were, you and your Queen made for the door. You were through with this damn council, with these damn elders. How your father put up with it for so long, you had no idea. No wonder he’d rather the ancestors than this-

“Your Majesty, uh, King-” The word was spit from their lips like it hurt. “What are you to do if someone were to challenge you for the title?”

Truth be told, this question sounded more like a threat than a hypothetical. Your steps froze in place, your Queen standing just before you. “I shall fight for my title, council.”

They could hear your footsteps retreating from the room with an echo that could surely be heard across the country.

The giggle she let escape as soon as the throne room doors were closed was far too loud. The queen’s lips were pinned to your cheeks, pecking at your nose, your lips, your forehead.

It broke your hardened exterior, planting a too-wide grin across your cheeks. “Did I handle my shit, my love?”

“Yes, ukumkani wam (my King), you handled your shit.”

The waters rushing your feet were a good distraction from the loud chanting that came from the crowd of onlookers surrounding you. 

She stood at the front of it, baring a corset far too tight and a face of armor, both of which she’d expressed her hatred for. 

“Will this be long, sithandwa sam? This corset is very uncomfortable, and I’d like to get it off-”

“So long as nobody has the sense to challenge me, my love, this won’t be long, no. Then I can peel that corset off of you myself.”

You hadn't needed to see her cheeks redden to know your words caused her to blush. Even now, though she stood quite a bit away, you knew they burned with the wideness of her smile. 

The rocks beneath you were slick and admittedly hard to walk on. You truly prayed that this would be an unnecessary occasion, one that would go by uneventfully. 

The chanting ceases, producing an eerie silence. Zuri’s voice was booming, his royal purple robes being soaked at the hem due to the rushing waters. You stood, tall and ready, spear in one hand, shield in the other, with lightweight clothing adorning your figure. 

“Victory, in ritual combat, comes by yield, or death! If any tribe wishes to put forth a warrior, I now offer a path to the throne.”

“Yuh!” It was loud and resounding, coming from your furthest left. The members of the tribe ingested the call and threw it back into the crowd. “The Merchant Tribe will not challenge today.”

“Haye! The Border Tribe will not challenge today.”

“Ibombe! The River Tribe will not challenge today!”

Three tribes refused to challenge. Perhaps this would be easy after all.

“Aye! The Mining Tribe will not challenge today!”

Four down- one to go. 

“Mayafa!” His tribe doesn’t take the liberty of repeating him as the other tribes did. A silence passes over all Wakandans present. Your Queen is doing what she does best- observing. 

You can feel the uneasiness present in her bones as your eyes never leave the Jabari warrior. 

“Zakar, what are you doing?” Zuri’s usually thunderous voice is brought down to a whisper. He can’t hide the shock that rings in his words. 

“It is Challenge Day; and I, Zakar of the Jabari Tribe, wish to challenge for the throne.”

Gasps and murmurs sprinkle across the crowd. Between your pulled-together brows are anger and surprise as well. Even your calculating Queen seems thrown off. 

Zakar was nothing more than a muscle man with an ape-like brain to match his ape-like proportions. 

If it was a challenge he wanted, a challenge he would get. 

All eyes were on you as you stepped toward the brute. Shoulders squared and chest out, you stood as your father taught you to. “I accept.”

“My King-”

Bast-bless Zuri. His worry for you was not very well hidden beneath his aging features. He’d surely watched your father through his own Challenge Day, standing amongst him as a friend more than a mentor and it would be your will that he stand beside your own son or daughter for theirs as well.

“It is okay, Zuri.” His hands squeezed yours with a passing gesture as you stepped toward your newfound enemy. 

Nose-to-nose and eye-to-eye; Zakar showed no signs of intimidation. His breath was hot, his nostrils flared, and a disgusting grin plastered across his face. “Well, Princess?”

“King,” you corrected. “I am your King. And I accept.”

Ramonda’s breath caught in her throat. 

His facial armor was replaced and a weapon identical to yours was thrown into his hands. 

Your eyes wandered to his primate-like shape. He and you would have surely trained in different weight classes. His reach was much larger than yours and it would take quite a few hits to get him down. You didn’t want to have to impale him to get him to yield. 

You were sure, though, that he would not show you the same mercy. That spear of his weapon would pierce your flesh with no mercy and you’d be damned if you were to die in front of your Queen in such a brutal way. 

Someone grabbed her hand, but she wasn’t sure who. Everything around her went blurry, fading into a mess of colors. Ramonda’s only focus was you. 

How dare you accept such a challenge? The two of you hadn’t spoken of you fighting today and for you to just go and accept it- You were going to die. Zakar wouldn’t hold back; the larger man’s strength was what yours wished to be. He was going to kill you, for sure. 

How dare you take the chance to drop dead in front of your Queen?

The Dora Milaje and Jabari Warriors barely had time to take their stances before the blunt end of Zakar’s spear came swinging toward you. 

The ugliest sound echoed through the waterfall as your shield just barely saved your fate. His quick actions confirmed what you already knew- He would not be playing fair. 

Ramonda could feel every muscle in her body tense. She so badly wanted to jump in, to help you, save you, fight with you. You more often than not trained together; she was just as skilled as you were. 

And had it not been for the strange hand squeezing hers, she probably would have. 

Every swing, every jab, she followed. She waited, breathing ceased, for you to take the upper hand. His spear swung hard to your left, so you dodged right. He came at you with his shield, so you retreated. You couldn’t even pick up your own weapon, too busy escaping his. 

The edge of the waterfall grew closer and closer. The rocks beneath you held no grip and exhaustion filled your lungs. 

Zakar’s patience was dwindling. “Stop running, Princess.” 

Princess. That’s all you would be to them. A princess beneath her father, the true king. A princess who was handed the title and did not earn it. You were still that little girl adorned with bows and lace, and not Wakanda’s king who would bear the crown proudly. 

The elders saw it, Zakar and the Jabari saw it, hell you wondered if your people saw it as well. You didn’t have time to meet your Queen’s gaze, though you could feel it stuck on you. She was watching; she was always watching. 

Ramonda was watching, counting on you, rooting for you. She saw you as Princess and now she sees you as King. 

The flesh on your arm burned as Zakar’s spear sliced it open. The ivory color of your bone peeked through. It was the arm that gripped your weapon and it nearly buckled out of your hand. The breath was knocked straight out of your lungs when he followed up with a fist to your gut. Your scream pierced the air, fueling Ramonda’s body forward as yours fell to its knees. Several hands attached to several invisible bodies held her back, though they could not hold her tongue. “Sithandwa sam! Sithandwa sam-”

“I will give you a moment before I finish you, princess. Address your wife.”

Your eyes fluttered upward, vision blurry and hazed as it rested upon your Queen. “M-Mondie-”

Her loose curls bounced to and fro. No nicknames, no affection. Maybe later, but not now. 

“Zilawule, sithandwa sam!”

Control yourself, my love. 

Your gaze bore into her distressed features. Your lids were heavy and your arm hurt like hell, as did your ribs. 

“Hamba ngobabalo!”

Walk with grace.

Your head fell, eyes filling with tears that fell into the waters beneath you. 

“Ndijonge (Look at me) Y/n!”

“Ndijonge, sithandwa sam,” she begged, much softer. 

Your gaze was drawn away from the rushing waters and back onto your wife. 

“Phatha ikaka yakho.”

Handle your shit.

“I am your Queen, my love! That is an order.”

Every damn thing hurt when your injured arm moved to pierce the rocks under you. Your legs were shaky, barely able to hold your weight.

Zakar’s chuckle was booming. “You attempt to get up, girl? Fine, then. I’ll just knock you right back down.”

“Remind me to have you banished for the way you speak to your King, Zakar.”

“Banishment will not be possible when you are with the ancestors. Just ask your father-” 

Had he said it loud enough for everyone to hear, they’d surely react the same way you had. 

The roar that came from you was ugly, followed by the crumbling sound of Zakar’s mask as your spear came in contact with it. Your backhand swing had been too quick for him to foresee and the clay mask shielding his face broke into many pieces as it fell into the water. 

The headache that would plague him tonight would be one from hell. Your foot came in contact with his chest, barely knocking him back with the first kick, but succeeding on the second one. Thank Bast for the slippery rocks that you stood on; there was no way you’d have been able to get him down otherwise. 

His large body hit the ground hard and you could see the anger flickering behind his eyes. The blunt end of your spear almost broke with the force you used to shove it into his shoulder. You were prepared to pop the bone right out of its joint.

“Yield, Zakar.”

He stayed silent, stare never leaving you. Your weapon dug further into his aching body.

“Yield. I can not let you up unless you do, because I am certain you will not let me live, and if that is the case-”

Your spear flips, drawing the sharp end into his flesh instead. “If that is the case, Zakar, then I can not let you live.”

It feels as though the entire kingdom of Wakanda is holding its breath. Slowly, the sharp weapon sunk further and further, disappearing within his tissue. His face was contorted with pain, teeth-baring a grimace. “Yield, Zakar, before you bleed out!”

His eyes were animalistic, his voice low enough so only you could hear. “Is that not what you want?”

Zakar gave you no chance to answer. “I yield.”

In unison, everyone in the crowd breathed a sigh of relief. You felt a weight lift from your shoulders and nodded a ‘thank you’ to the warrior on the ground. “Take a deep breath.”

He did and in that same breath, remained silent as you pulled the spear from his shoulder. Zuri rushed over as the Jabari tribe picked their leader up from the ground. 

The pendant that your father wore on his challenge day, and his father before him was heavy, adorned with panther teeth as it hung around your neck. Your right hand was lifted into the air, fist up as Zuri’s deep voice declared “Y/N Y/L/N, King of Wakanda, and the Black Panther!”

Louder than any other screams and cheers was Ramonda, leading the chant, fist-pumping into the air. 

The chambers that held the heart-shaped herb were way too hot and way too dark. You wanted nothing more than to be in the presence of your Queen, your Mondie, promising that she’d be awaiting your return from the ancestral planes. 

You couldn’t ignore the impending feeling of doom as you lay down, arms crossed over your chest in a salute. The herbal drink had been prepared and it was your move as to what happened next. Zuri stood above you, placing the bowl to your lips as he spoke. 

“Allow the heart-shaped herb to bestow the powers of The Black Panther and take you to the ancestral plane.” The drink was bitter and burned like liquor as you swallowed. Convulsions wrecked your body as your system digested it.

“Azzuri, we call on you. Come here, to your daughter.”

The sand. That was the part you dreaded the most. It began to cover your body and you inhaled deep, thankful to breathe while you still could. Everything became muffled when the first grains hit your face. 

“Praise the ancestors,” Zuri’s voice was barely above a whisper. 

Everything was dark.

The gasp that came from you was desperate, as though you’d been drowning. Dirt surrounded you, and you willed your eyes to adjust to the low light. 

The garden you sat in was familiar. You hadn’t been in it in quite a while, but you’d never forgotten its layout. You stood, allowing the white garment you were clothed in to flow around you. 

It was instinctual, the way your feet led you to a bench in the far corner, concealed with desert roses and blue lilies. It wasn’t a surprise to see your usual place already occupied.

The gentleman wasn’t as old as he should have been to leave this life. He was dressed in white clothes of his own with a gentle smile greeting you as you approached.

“Baba-” You sat next to him, in disbelief that you could see him again, so alive, though he wasn’t.

“Uyenzile (You did it), intombazana yakho (my daughter).”

Your smile was bright, though your eyes were dull with the tears that threatened to spill. “I did it, Baba.”

“You are King.”

“I am King.” It hurt to get the words out. It was the only time you’d said it and truly fucking meant it. 

His shoulder pushed into yours, joy prevalent in his features. “Who did you have to fight, hmm? Who dared challenge the daughter of Azzuri?”

“Nobody at first. Then the Jabari made their entrance-”

Just as quickly as it came, his smile was gone. “The Jabari? Zakar?”

Your head bobbed. “Zakar.”

“Are you- were you hurt?”

You couldn’t look at him and tell him you’d gotten injured. You attempted to pivot the conversation instead. “I did it, baba.”

He wasn’t swayed. Your father was too smart a man. “Be careful, y/n/n.”

“Be careful? Of what? I won. I am King, I am The Black Panther; he can not challenge me again.”

His head hung, shaking slowly. “Tradition says he can not challenge you again.”

“As it says, then it shall be!”

“Ukususela nini, intomba (Since when, daughter)?”

Your silence failed to satisfy him. 

“Tradition says that when your mother and I had you, we were to conceive again, for a son, an heir.”

You didn’t want to hear him.

“Tradition says that when I died, you were to marry a man, and he was to be king.”

You didn’t want to listen.

“Tradition says that he- your husband- was to be the Black Panther.”

He knelt in front of you, grasping your hands in his own and squeezing tight. His hold on you caught you both off guard; neither of you could have fathomed a second chance at a moment like this. 

“You have broken tradition since you came out of the womb, y/n, my girl. And I am so proud of you for it. Wakanda needed to progress, and you-” His hand released yours, gently holding your cheek instead. “You are exactly what this country needs.”

Tears fall down your cheeks at your father’s hold. You embraced it, knowing that after this, you’d never feel it again. “Am I truly meant to be King, baba?”

“Have I not raised you so?”

Your bottom lip curled back into your mouth and your head nodded ever so slightly. “But heed my warning, my girl. Zakar will not take lightly being bested in front of the country, especially not by a woman. Especially not by my daughter.”

Your brows pulled together into a focused furrow. “I’ll be careful.”

His lips press to your forehead gently. “I know you will do wonderful things. You were born to do wonderful things.”

He stood and began to retreat. You panicked when his hand left yours, not ready to say goodbye again. “W-wait, Baba. Don’t go-”

“Eh? Y/n, what have I taught you?”

“Y-you said you’d never leave me, but-”

“And have I?”

Your hands outstretched to beckon the unfamiliar world around you. “What would you call this, Baba?”

His steps grew closer to you and his fingers lightly pierced your chest. “I have not left you. I am here.” His hands moved to your temple. “And here.” They moved once more to cup your face. “And here. You look just like me, you know.”

“Now go. Rule your kingdom.”

“Baba,” You hated the way your voice sounded, so whiny and helpless. “Ndiyakuthandana (I love you).”

He was fading away fast and you could feel yourself being pulled back to reality. His words were so faint, you thought you’d imagined hearing it. “Ndiyakuthandana, my girl.”

Zuri’s face was filled with worry when you shot up from beneath the sand, gasping in the dusty air that surrounded you. “Are you alright?”

You accepted the hand he was offering you, using it to stand. “Never bury me alive again.”

Night fall crept on the Wakandan horizon and Ramonda’s usually still mind was flooding with unease. The hem of her skirt swept the palace floors as she wandered aimlessly. 

It was such a large space for just the two of you and without you there, it was so quiet. Dora stood at every outbound door and while they shared her polite smiles, they didn’t speak. 

It had been hours since Zuri swept you away for the ancestral planes and while Ramonda was uncertain how long the private ceremony would take, something didn’t feel right about the seven hours you’d been gone. 

She was an hour into her mindless stroll down the same halls of the royal residence before it was abruptly interrupted. 

“My Queen, are you alright?”

Had they not spoken, Ramonda would have run them over. She blinked slowly, taking in the figure before her. She hated to admit she recognized neither the face nor the voice, yet she did recognize the armor; red and gold with beautiful neckplates and shoulder pads to match.

“General- I apologize, I didn’t see you there-” Her words are steady through the nerves that shake her being. 

“It’s alright. Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Are you alright, your Majesty?”

Hesitation almost silenced the Queen. How would it appear that she be so disheveled and muddled?

But she needed help. There were many royal customs that were foreign to her and she had no way to navigate them. 

“General, has my wife returned from the ancestral planes yet?”

The worry Ramonda tried so hard to shove down resurfaced when the General’s face contorted to a look of confusion. “She left the planes hours ago. She was making her way back toward the palace last I saw of her.”

Ramonda’s legs almost gave out underneath her, but the composure she held was truly that of a Queen. “S-she left-”

“Has she not returned, your Majesty?”

Ramonda’s head just swayed back and forth.

The General was quick to turn on her heel with a brisk walk that the Queen struggled to keep up with.

“Qokelela (Gather)!” 

A sea of red poured into the halls, all heading toward the throne room. Dora Milaje, all with their spears drawn and their steps nimble. They were surprised to see the white crown among the swarm of bobbing bald heads. 

The throne room scarcely seemed large enough for the bodies that rapidly filled it. In the forefront stood the General and their Queen, heads held high through the dread that sank to the pit of their stomachs like cement. 

The Dora General was silent, awaiting Ramond’s orders. All eyes were on her and it was a feeling she was unsure she’d ever get used to. 

A deep breath steadied the rapid drumming of her heartbeat. Control yourself.

“General, around what time did you see my wife returning home?”

“1300 hours, your Majesty.”

“It’s going on 2200 hours now, ladies. I’m hoping this is just an overreaction, but really, I’m not sure. Go to the grounds, the tribes, the herbal garden, search even the castle. Bring my King home, please.” Walk with grace.

With a harsh tap of their spears on the stone floor, the room empties just as quickly as it filled. Only the General and the Queen remain and Ramonda feels the deep breath she was holding finally release. 

“Your Majesty-”

Many coily curls frame the young royal’s face and they bounce when her head shaked to and fro. “I will have to grow used to being called that as well, hm?”

“I believe so.”

“You won’t just call me Ramonda if I asked you to, will you?”

The smile that plays on the General’s face is sympathetic and she can see the idea form in the Queen’s mind before she even says it. 

“General, I am just Ramonda. Call me Ramonda.”

Pearly white teeth shine behind her dark smile. “Queen Ramonda, I am Esi. Call me Esi.”

“Esi, are you the first friend I have made here?”

“If so, then I am honored to be.” With a bow of her head, she begins to walk off, but not before Ramonda calls her back.

“Esi, bring me Zuri, please. And keep me updated. Once I have finished speaking with him, I will be joining you and your army in the search.”

“We’ve got the search covered-”

“I have no doubt that you do. However, I will be joining you regardless. I’m bringing my wife home.”

Zuri hadn’t expected to be awoken in the dead of the night, nor was he expecting the Queen of Wakanda to be awaiting his arrival.

“Your Majesty,” both of her hands fit in his like a glove and his tight squeeze is full of compassion. “What is the matter?”

Ramonda doesn't appear to be a spouse in distress. Every feeling of fear, or doubt or dread was unreadable on her features. “Zuri, my friend. Where is my wife?”

“Y/n? Is she not here?”

“She is not. She never returned from the herbal gardens-”

The older gentleman’s head shakes in disbelief. “She did. She had to have returned; where else could she be?”

“That is what I am trying to find out.”

A beat of silence passes between the two, unspoken thoughts swarming their minds. 

“Zuri-” The Queen hesitates, knowing that what she is about to ask is such a personal question. “Do you know who she saw? When she went to the ancestral planes?”

His nod is slow and sad. He can never hide how much he misses his old friend and Ramonda knows the answer before he even speaks it. “Baba?”

“Azzuri, yes.”

“Was it- Did she say anything about it? Did anything happen that would cause her to run away for any reason?”

“Not that she mentioned. You know how that girl was with her father; I can not foresee it having been a bad encounter.”

Ramonda is silent. It was a stretch that you would have willingly not return to her, but your genius Queen had to dot all her I’s and cross all her T’s.

“She did repeat something he told her-”

Ramonda was all ears, focused in on every word Zuri spoke. “What did she say?”

“He told her to watch her back. That Zakar wouldn’t take too lightly to having been defeated by her.”

An insincere chuckle left Ramonda’s lips. It was an ugly sound as anger flooded her body. The corner of her lips curled into a grisly pucker and Zuri scanned her face, interpreting her reaction.

“You suspected Zakar, didn’t you?”

“I did, however, as Queen, I can not go throwing around false accusations.”

“Is it a false accusation if you know it to be true?”

A sad smile looks so out of place on Ramonda’s mouth. 

“Zuri, you know how this works even better than I. I have no proof to accuse Zakar and I can not start a civil war with the Jabari that she will have to clean up when she returns.”

“If she stays in the hands of Zakar, that when will become an if.”

The cloak covering the Queen’s shoulders floats to the floor with a slight shrug. The crown atop her head is removed and underneath, her bountiful curls are braided tightly against her scalp. She’s stood aside long enough, talked long enough. Thoughts of bringing you home were all that played through her mind and the mountainside home of the Jabari tribe was her destination.

“I will not let that when become an if, old friend.”

Handle your shit.

She’d never stepped foot in the land of the Jabari before and was illprepared for the snow that coated the ground and the below zero temperatures. She realized it foolish to have come alone, and had she been in her right headspace, she would have realized it sooner. 

Eyes of the Jabari watched her from every direction and the entrance to a cave drew closer and closer. It was guarded well, by bulky men whose faces were concealed by gorilla masks. The opening of the cavern was blocked off as she approached.

“I need to see Zakar.” Though her body shivered from the cold temperatures, her voice remained steady and firm. The men didn’t budge. 

“Zakar is not taking any visitors. He is healing.”

Had smoke been able to come out of her ears in a cartoonish fashion, Ramonda was sure it would have. Her composure did not sway, nor did her expression change. “I need to see Zakar.”

One of the men bent to the Queen’s height, meeting her eye-to-eye. Her knees didn’t buckle and her gaze didn’t dare look away. “What did I just tell you?”

Ramonda’s set to respond, hell, she’s set to exile the whole damn tribe. A faceless voice breaks the tension between the two; the voice she’s there to see. 

“Let her in.”

It would have been a childish thing had she stuck her tongue out at the bruly warrior as he stepped aside to let her in, so she refrained. Instead, she walked through the wall of broad men, straight to the wide throne that held their awful leader. 

His thick brows were deep set on his eyes, weighing heavy on his face and his left arm and midsection sported a collection of white bandages. 

He didn’t look thrilled to see her and she mirrored the feeling. “My Queen,” 

How disgusting it sounded coming from his mouth. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Your calculating Queen stood silent for a moment, scanning the room around her. It was cold, so fucking cold, with icy stares to match. Every corner held a warrior, equipt with armor and weapons. She couldn’t help but wonder if that was the norm or if it was only due to her company.

“Zakar-” She hated how his name tasted, rolling across her tongue. “I think thanks are in order.”

“For what?”

“For giving us quite the eventful day. My wife couldn’t just take the throne that was rightfully hers and go about her way, hm? You had to step in and give us a challenge.”

“You are thanking me for getting my ass beat in front of the entire kingdom? And by a princess?”

Ramonda’s jaw was hardset and it took every ounce of control within her body to respond respectfully. “King. Your King.”

When Zakar stood, Ramonda couldn’t help the slight intimidation she felt at the way he towered over her. Her body took a step back without her permission and she cursed herself for it. 

“My king would have balls, your majesty-”

“It is common to want in a leader what we cannot have ourselves-”

Zakar laughed at her rebuttal and it angered the Queen. He continued as though she hadn’t even spoken. “You see me as the villain in your little happily ever after, but that is not the case. It is the other way around, honestly. You and your wife come in and shake up tradition, age old tradition. Excuse me for trying to put things back the way they should be.”

“Who is to say that is the right way and my way is wrong?”

Hmm, Zakar’s deep voice rumbles the entire cave. “Why have you come here, your Majesty?”

“I have reason to believe you have something that belongs to me.”

“Are you accusing me of thievery?” At his words, the Jabari soldiers in the room draw their weapons across their chests, armed and ready.

Your wife is quiet, choosing her next words carefully. Before she can get them off her tongue, Zakar speaks once more. “Let’s say I do have something of yours; I suggest you act tactically. You want this thing back in the same condition that I received it, do you not?”

That’s all she needed. That was enough proof, hell, it was a whole fucking confession. 

Ramonda stepped toward the gorilla-like man, not caring of the weapons that were pointed at her. 

“Unlike my wife, Zakar, I will not hesitate to kill you.”

Her words were so low, the brutish man barely even caught them. His eyes were dark and angry when the Queen pulled away and began to retreat further into the snow, toward the cave entrance once more. 

“Leaving so soon, your Majesty?”

Ramonda’s middle finger was pointed to the sky, directed straight to the Jabari leader as her back stayed turned to him.

“Ramonda!”

The sound of her name bouncing off the stone palace walls caught her off guard. She hadn’t heard it be called in such a way since childhood. 

Her entire body swiveled to see Esi running straight toward her, anger dancing across her features.

“You’ve finally referred to me by my name-”

“You went to the Jabari tribe, alone?”

Ramonda winced at the General’s tone of voice. Her scolding was loud enough for outside listeners to pick up. “I did-”

“What were you thinking? They could have killed you-”

“They have her, Esi.”

Esi’s sigh was annoyed, her eye roll expectant. “Yes, your Majesty, we know that.”

The Queen didn’t have time to focus on the formal terms she and the General seemed to be back on. “You know?”

“We know. We have dozens of Dora surrounding their borders as we speak. We’re trying to find an in without jeapordizing her safety. We still do not know where in the land they are keeping her, though we assume its close to Zakar so that he may keep tabs-”

“Let me take lead on this-”

It would not have been possible for Esi to control the surprise that overtook her at the Queen’s declaration. “Let you what? No! Absolutely not-”

“She’s my wife, Esi-”

“And she is our King-”

“She’s my wife! Damned with your king, she is my wife, and I need her home.”

Ramonda was becoming emotional. The day’s events were catching up with her, as was the reality that you were laying cold somewhere in his midst, hurt or worse.

“Ramonda,” Esi’s voice was soft, her gentle hands grazing the Queen’s forearms. “We are trained for this; willing to die for this. We can not let you-”

“Esi, I hope you can still consider us friends after this.”

“After what-?”

“I am stripping you of your title as General. Step down. That is a direct order-”

“Ramonda-!”

“I am appointing myself General and-”

Tears swam behind Esi’s lids. “Your Majesty-”

Ramonda grabbed Esi’s hands and held them. She needed a deep breath to continue, fighting back tears of her own. “I will reinstate you, my friend. I am sorry, but I-” Her voice broke, and with the grace of a true Queen, she continued. “I must bring my wife home.”

The Dora Milaje stood in salute, awaiting instructions from their new General. Ramonda stood before them, silent with Esi on her right, face set hard with an emotion impossible to read. 

“The Jabari have Y/n.” This wasn’t new information to anyone in the room; they didn’t stir. Ramonda continued.

“We’re bringing her home, by any means necessary. We have suspicions she is being kept either in or just outside Zakar’s throne room. It is a cave covered in snow and ice and flooded with Jabari warriors who are just as willing to die for this as we are.”

Her eyes searched through the crowd. Staring back at her were various hues of brown, all armed, all ready. 

“We’ve already got the border surrounded; they know we’re coming and what we’re coming for. Get her out, alive.” The stress she put on that last word didn’t do justice for how much she meant it. Alive was the only option.

“Get me as close to Zakar as you can. I do not care if he gets out of this alive or dead; I will distract the ape man while you locate and retrieve the king. Understood?”

“My Queen,” Esi’s voice is quiet and still holds the authority it did before her title was stripped from her. “Aren’t we to get you out alive as well?”

The words were hard to get out, but Ramonda knew she meant them. “Get her out, alive,” she repeated. “If the King has been located and retrieved, then retreat.”

“Your Majesty-”

Ramonda’s clenched teeth were bared, displaying the force it took for her to echo herself. “Retreat.”

Nobody dared question her again and with a quick nod and cross of her arms, the Queen was satisfied. “Masihambe (Let’s go).”

It seemed as though the mountainside had grown colder since Ramonda was last there just hours ago. The Dora Milaje marched in step behind her, Esi at her side. The cave entrance was just before them, and it was blocked off completely. Jabari men and women stood, shutting off the cavern to the outside world and they didn’t budge when Ramonda approached. 

Nobody spoke, not a single word uttered. Their curved staff mirrored that of their leaders and they seemed angsty, ready for a good fight. 

“Shukuma (Move).” Ramonda’s voice was loud and declarative and still, they stayed. 

A voice even louder boomed over the brigade of bodies. “Let the woman through.”

Zakar’s men move at his command, but not before one of them tries to be ballsy. His staff swings for Ramonda’s head, just missing clipping her scalp before his weapon falls to the ground with a clank. The Queen turns just in time to see the spear of a young Dora fly through his thigh.

She can’t hold back her gasp when the large body drops to the ground, crying out in pain. Everyone is frozen, awaiting the move of another. The Jabari warriors let the weight of what just happened sit on their shoulders for a moment before preparing to attack. Another readies his staff to swing, preparing to rip the girl’s head straight off her body, but Zakar’s words keep him in place.

“Yibambe simile (Hold off).”

His men recollect themselves, reestablishing their blockage of entry to the cave. 

“Yiza,” His command is directed at Ramonda now, and she continues her trek to his throne. 

“Your Majesty, I was trying very hard to be nice. But you align your army at my borders, push your way into my home, and injur one of my men.” He rises from the wooden seat, staff ready in his uninjured hand. “I do not take very kindly to that.”

Ramonda doesn’t speak. Her eyes are on his movements, his actions. He’s slower to move on his injured side, which makes sense. It’s the side you impaled and he hadn’t allowed himself enough time to heal before starting shit with your kingdom. 

His right side, however, is much stronger; she has to guess it’s his dominant side. And though he may be damaged on the left, he had a room full of people to make up for his handicap. 

Realistically, it’s too many people. She’s unsure if the large army is due to the impending threat looming over everyone present, but it still wouldn’t make sense. They’re all huddled around his throne, not spread about where they could be more useful.

She takes a closer look at the large seat that Zakar refused to leave unattended. It was wide and tall, which wasn’t unusual, because of his size and stature. But why leave a wooden chair guarded?

Your Queen truly was a genius. It didn’t take her long to figure it out and when she did, it took everything she had to remain expressionless. 

“I do not take very kindly to kidnapping, Zakar.”

“There you go, making empty accusations again-”

The spear in Ramonda’s hand is itching to take out the gorilla man’s other shoulder. “I am not willing to play mind games with you, indoda embi (ugly man). Is this really something you wish to do? Cut the Jabari off from Wakandan resources and protection? Risk the greatest country in the world turning against you?”

“What good is the greatest country in the world if it is run by imbecils whom are incapable of-”

“What makes me incapable? What makes my wife incapable?”

The brute man is silenced.

“You and the elders of this country are so focused on what we have between our legs, more so than the minds we have. We have shown you no reason to doubt us, and yet you do because we are women? I thought we were supposed to be more progressive as a nation than that.”

Zakar is flustered, unable to find the right words and vocalize them.

“Tradition states-”

“To hell with tradition!”

“That is your problem, your Majesty-”

“Thula (Be quiet), Zakar.”

Silence once again. Zakar is frozen in place as Ramonda takes timid steps toward him and his throne. 

“To hell with your misogynistic, sexist, homophobic traditions. This is my kingdom now.”

She gets closer, ignoring the staffs drawn and pointing at her from every direction. 

“This is our kingdom now.”

The sharp end of her spear is pointed to the wooden throne. Ramonda has no doubt that the thick wood will give way with a stab or two of her vibranium weapon, but she’s worried. She doesn’t know how far underneath the piece you are and she doesn’t want to risk stabbing you. 

It’s a chance she’s going to have to take.

“This is our kingdom now!”

The first hit cracks the wood and debris fly back at her. The Jabari warriors surrounding the piece prepare themselves to swing at the Queen, but their hesitation is their downfall. The Dora outnumber them by hundreds and it only takes a second for their staffs to be pressed against their windpipes, holding them in place and out of Ramonda’s way. 

“This is our kingdom now, and we shall make new traditions!”

The second swing of the sharp object shatters the wood and splinters take the air. Zakar wasn’t expecting the throne to breakaway. His thick staff coming in contact with your Queen’s thigh release the gut-wrenching sound of bones crunching. 

Just as quick as he was able to get his hands on her, they hit the flood with a disgusting squelch. The bright crimson of his blood shines on the fresh white snow and his scream causes the entire cave to shake on its foundation. 

Where his hands once were are gorey blood and flesh. Esi’s spear is covered in the same blood that spurts from his body. 

You’re curled up in a hole underneath the space where Zakar’s throne once sat. Ramonda’s heart breaks to see you in the fetal position, unconscious and unresponsive. 

Her breath catches in her chest as she watches, waiting for yours to rise and fall. It does, but it’s so slow, that she worries it won’t continue for long.

It’s an agonizing pain, one that travels through her very being, trying to stand on her now broken leg. Her spear is used more as a crutch as she hobbled over to the giant, brought to his knees. 

“W-What did you do to her?”

He doesn’t respond. 

“Answer me, Zakar!”

Silence.

Esi’s still-bloody spear digs into the side of his neck, just enough to draw a fresh cut. “Unless you want your head to roll with your hands, I suggest you answer your Queen.”

His voice is strained when it finally speaks. “I did nothi-”

“Lies! She is lying here, unconscious! What did you do?” Esi’s anger mirrors Ramonda’s.

She turns back to your body, lying so still and quiet and the hole full of ice that you lay in. Her calculating mind goes to work once more. “Wait, Esi. Zakar, did she take the heart-shaped herb before you took her?”

“Took sounds so harsh-”

Esi’s spear presses deeper, drawing a steady flow of blood, causing the big man to change his words. “Y-yes, she had already taken it.”

“So she already had the powers of the Black Panther?”

“Yes.”

Ramonda nods, a sigh of relief escaping her. “She’s in hibernation.”

“Hibernation? Your Majesty, you’re telling me that if our protector experienced too-cold temperatures, then she’s down for the count?”

“No, Esi, not usually, but she’s been buried in a box full of ice.”

“Is she okay?”

“She will be,” Ramonda’s head points to you, her beloved, still curled into yourself. “Yiza,” she commands. 

While your army come and retrieve you from your frozen slumber, Ramonda hops over to a still-kneeling Zakar. She drops until they’re face-to-face, thankful to relieve some of the pain radiating through her leg. 

“I should have had them kill you.”

“Then why don’t you?”

Ramonda is hushed. Why doesn’t she? He shattered her leg, took you prisoner-

“I don’t know, to be honest.”

Zakar’s eyes are filled with surprise as he drags them upward to gaze at the Queen sitting before him. He’s even more surprised to see hers full of empathy. 

“Come back to the palace with us. We have a lab, filled with doctors who can fix you and your injured men-”

“Why should I accept your help?”

“What other choice do you have?”

The sound of your voice is truly melodious to Ramonda. Her head spins and if her leg weren’t shattered, she would have run right to you. 

Your words were shaky as your body tried to regulate its temperatures. Dora surrounded you, wrapping you in the garments of their winter wear and as you stood on unsteady legs, they moved with you, every step. 

“You ought to be thankful of my wife, for showing you mercy. Had it been the other way around, I would have let Esi behead you.”

Her snicker could be heard from her place behind the Jabari leader. Ramonda’s eyes were on you and they refused to leave, too afraid you’d leave her presence again. 

“If you do not accept her offer to be patched up, you’ll surely bleed out here, will you not?”

He didn’t respond and you bent beside your Queen, lowering yourself to his level.

“Zakar, as beautiful as this red looks, contrasting with the white snow, I believe it best you accept.”

Silence.

“Well, unlucky for you, to have a stubborn King. Aye,” You called out to your army, awaiting their attention. “Mthathe (Take him), and his injured men too. Esi, notify the lab that we’re on our way.”

Ramonda was all too grateful when you scooped her into your arms, bridal style. Her arms fell into place wrapped around your neck and you held her close, tight, too afraid to let her go. 

“My Queen,” you greeted softly, rubbing the tip of your nose to hers. 

“My love,” the tears she’d been holding back for far too long finally spilled over and her hands moved to cup your face, pulling you close. 

“I see you handled your shit, sithandwa.”

Ramonda’s chuckle was full of relief and my god, it was such a beautiful sound to hear. 

“Yes, my love. I handled my shit.”

And R having to get Lily to realize it’s her mama. Olivia knows but wants to make sure her sister is okay before going be to Nat. 🥺

Imagining Natasha in WLWD getting a haircut because she feels it’s more her. Then she comes home and it completely startles Lily to the point she doesn’t even want Nat to hold her because it’s “different” and she’s not used to change

My brain and heart🥺