Chapter 1: Azzaria I
Azzaria had been a princess of Wakanda all her life and like the white of her hair and the blue of the sky, it was something she had no control over. She had asked her parents to participate in the scholars abroad program and when the time came she enrolled into Oxford for her fourth PhD.
Or she had tried to complete her fourth PhD. She let the smile on her face slip as a delegation of her countrymen rushed towards her.
She appears serene when they approach her.
My Queen, they say and Azzaria Udaku is a princess no longer.
“Prince T'Challa,” The Black Widow said as she stepped into his line of sight. She was feigning innocence and missing the mark with her target. She had grown used to her act as the vixen but she was misfooted in her approach. T'Challa would not be fooled by doe eyes and soft words; a panther was both lion and fox, and he recognized her games before she played them. “I'm surprised to see you here.” She said with a small smile.
“Is it really such a surprise, Ms Romanov?” T'Challa asked lifting an eyebrow. “Wakandans were among the victims in Lagos and Nigeria,” He reminded her and she had a moment of remorse she strategically let slip on her face. He turned as he began to watch her. “I am surprised to see you here. I would think you would be uncomfortable in company such as this after your statements on Capitol Hill.”
“Yes, well,” She simpered but T'Challa could feel the hairs back of his neck stand on end and he smiled. N'Jadaka is nearby he thought as she leaned into his space with his smile. “Diplomacy–” T'Challa frowned at the non-answer. “You're not a fan of diplomacy?”
“The politics? Not really.” T'Challa said as his father joined them. “Two people alone in a room can get more done than a hundred.”
“Unless you have to move a piano.” King T'Chaka chuckled. Natasha bowed and reached out a hand but she caught sight of N'Jadaka behind him scowling at her.
“Your Highness,” She said shaking his hand as he smiled. “It's an honor.”
“ What the fuck is she doing here? ” N'Jadaka asked T'Challa in Wakandan as he came closer.
T'Challa smiled pleasantly. “ She is trying to manipulate me. ”
“ If she puts her hands on you I'm handling this bitch her face. ” N'Jadaka said turning to her. “Hey, I'm Erik Stevens. Security detail for the Wakandan delegation.” He held out his hand and smiled and she shook it.
“It's a pleasure,” Natasha said but the assembly was called into session and she left to take her seat.
T'Challa stood a few paces away as his father began his speech. The Dora Milaje were stationed at all the entrances and exits and N'Jadaka prowled along the periphery of the assembly ready to spring into action at any moment. His Jaguar, he thought fondly.
He scanned the attendees and frowned when he noticed the representatives from Genosha and Sovokvia sitting in barely restrained contempt. Pietro Maximoff had settled into his role as the Sovokian Prime Minister with more grace than T'Challa thought possible.
He should be speaking, T'Challa thought.
Sovokia was the nation most harmed by the Avengers, by Tony Stark in truth, and the Accords were named after the recovering country. Pietro was directly dealing with the ramifications of their actions and he could barely get a seat for the assembly.
It was bad form and a show of worse faith that the nation most affected by the Avengers didn't even get a say in the Accords baring their name.
“Focus, T'Challa.” N'Jadaka said into his headpiece and T'Challa straightened up.
He didn't need to be reminded to stay on his toes. He'd worn the habit of the Black Panther as long as N'Jadaka had been the Golden Jaguar. He always made him feel so childish.
“Of course, my love–” T'Challa said but the barking of dogs drew his attention outside.
“Everybody down!” T'Challa shouted as he leaped towards his father but a bomb blast blew him away from him and across the room.
He landed in a crouch and started towards his father. Tears filled his mismatched eyes as he neared. He knew what he'd see when he got to his father but he had to see him. He had lost focus for a moment and a moment was all it took to lose him.
You deserve this, a dark little voice spoke in his mind, Azzaria-Udaku. This is what you deserve for losing your focus.
No, he thought, Great Goddess, no. Not his Baba.
“Baba,” T'Challa said as he neared his father's body. He laid a hand on him afraid to touch him. He had just hugged him, he thought. He shook his shoulder but his father's face didn't crease in annoyance like usual when he bothered him. He couldn't hear his heart. He couldn't see him breathing or hear the rasp of a breath.
No, he thought, no, no, no...
“Baba. Baba,” T'Challa cried as he pulled his baba's body into his arms.
One more coming today.
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N'Jobu thought he could do it, but by Bast, he could not.
He had advised T'Chaka to marry the Dora Milaje from the River tribe, Ramonda, to soothe the tension between their tribes.
It was the very reason the Dora Milaje was founded, selecting a wife for the king of Wakanda. Ramonda had been raised from childhood, groomed in courtesy, and trained as a warrior so that she could be Dora Milaje.
The River tribe knew with her in such a position they could make designs on the throne. Their children would be of both tribes and it was a peaceful way to supplant the Azzaria-Udaku's.
N'Jobu thought of the temporary peace and had instructed T'Chaka to marry her but at a high cost.
T'Chaka would not be rid of him.
He had tried everything from sullenness to education beyond Wakanda's borders and even the life of the Hatut Zeraze. But even as a Dog of War and member of the Taifa Ngao T'Chaka held power and sway over him. He decided all of his assignments. He denied his visa request for every institution outside of Wakanda and had graciously sponsored him for every school from Birnin Azzaria to Birnin Dialta.
He had to resort to desperate measures: their mother.
“What do you want, N'Jobu?” Azzaria said instead of greeting him.
He laughed and hugged her. “Mama–”
“Don't 'Mama' me.” She said looking down at him. He was a man grown and she was still taller then him. She turned and walked back into her palace at Birnin Azzaria.
The black sable of the fur dragged behind her. “You never visit. T'Chaka has me locked in here while he ruins this country and that River tribe girl, ” Azzaria spat with contempt. “Poisons his mind more and more every day.”
“And the child,” Azzaria shook her head. She turned her sharp blue gaze toward him. “Have you seen the boy? He has my eye in his head.”
“That is why I have come.” N'Jobu admitted to her and she gestured for him to sit.
Azzaria glanced at him with a smile. “You can not kill him, N'Jobu. The nation knows he exists and regicide is very messy.”
“Mama!” N'Jobu shouted while looking around the room but she had sent her Dora Milaje guard away for them to talk. “You should not say such things.”
“You are right.” She chuckled. “We should see how he turns out before making any designs on his life,” N'Jobu threw himself into the chair behind him as she continued. “Perhaps we can turn him in our favor. Even if he is her son.”
“I came here to discuss T'Chaka, mother” N'Jobu said holding his head. “Not his son.”
She growled as she turned and N'Jobu's hackles raised. “What of him?”
“What has he done now?” She demanded as she flexed her hands in and out of claws.
“You know I wish to leave Wakanda,” He started slowly, not used to getting this far voicing his desire.
To leave Wakanda was anathema to a Wakandan. There was no better place in the world, objectively. Subjectively the move away from traditions was alien and uncomfortable for most of the people. But his misery was contained solely in Wakanda, if he wanted to leave his conditions he had to leave his home.
Azzaria impatiently gestured for him to continue. “Of course you do. You have sacrificed everything for the sake of T'Chaka. There is nothing left for you in Wakanda. What is the problem?”
“T'Chaka.” N'Jobu replied.
She rolled her eyes. “Of course.”
N'Jobu sighed. “I have tried everything I can think of–”
“Surely you have not.” Azzaria said. “There is an obvious answer, N'Jobu.”
His eyes filled with tears and he looked down. “I am sorry.”
Azzaria clicked her tongue but she sat down on the couch and pulled him close to her. He leaned into her familiar scent and cried silently. “I will allow this for now N'Jobu but when you are done it will be time for action. You must not allow yourself to be taken over by sadness.”
“Yes, mama.” He said.
“You know what you must do, don't you?” She asked him.
He wiped his tears away as her strength filled him. “Yes, mama.”
“You are N'Jobu Azzaria-Udaku,” She reminded him. “The Golden Jaguar. In all the world there is only one for you and you have given him up for the good of Wakanda. It was noble. Stupid,” N'Jobu laughed. “But noble. The Desturi have not disappeared. Unrest is still rife among the people, advising T'Chaka to marry into the River tribe was wise,” Azzaria the Wise said.
“I do not like it but it was wise.” She finished as he left her embrace and stood before her.
“I will send word to Hunter in America. He is in California, I believe. He will help you.” N'Jobu nodded. “Take a Dog of War assignment there. Stall for as long as you can. Plant roots and excel at your mission. T'Chaka will have no reason to remove you.”
She held up a finger. “Be careful of your passion, my son. It is a trait of the Golden Jaguar but harness it carefully.” She stood and towered over him. “Damisa-Sarki is the other half of your soul. He will listen to you.”
N'Jobu stood silent and in her tone filled him with such strength he felt as if his skin were stone.
“If he will not listen to your mouth, then speak with different lips.” She said and he flushed but stayed still. “Nothing must stand in your way, Azzaria-Udaku. Nothing.”
“I understand, my queen.” N'Jobu said bowing before her.
“I trust in your ability to complete these tasks.” Azzaria Udaku said before embracing him. “Be safe, my son.” N'Jobu embraced his mother.
I may never see her again, He thought as he tightened his grip on her and tears filled his eyes.
When she released him she had tears in her own blue eyes. “N'Jobu Azzaria-Udaku, you and I have a pact. Speak of it to no man.”
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Chapter 4: N'Jobu II
How the Moon hides the Sun from the village in the sky and the birds fly until they remembered they were the Sun.
N'Jobu walked the halls of the palace at Birnin Zana with purpose, T'Chaka was in his office and N'Jobu could feel him there. The hair on his arms stood on end with the awareness of exactly where he was in the world.
No one in the world would know the pull of another the way T'Chaka and N'Jobu did. They had started as one splitting in two and they were forever trying to join back together. From that first division they had known a incomprehensible loneliness that could only be quenched with the presence of the other.
N'Jobu and T'Chaka clung to each other so tightly only the trace amounts of vibranium within N'Jobu's fetus alerted the doctors to his presence. The Gift of Bast to the Golden Jaguar gold vibranium was only found in the mouth of the Jaguar. When N'Jobu's milk teeth finally fell out and were replaced with glittering gold all of Wakanda knew the truth; T'Chaka could be the Black Panther and N'Jobu was the Golden Jaguar.
From then on N'Jobu was regarded as Bast blessed. She Herself had looked at the issue of their succession and the potential civil war that their many enemies could incite within the Golden Tribe and had gifted the son of Her cult with the honor of being the Golden Jaguar.
The Sun That Made The Shadow, he was called. The Golden Jaguar was born as the other half of the Black Panther's soul. Their children would be greatest warriors Wakanda would ever know.
Bast blessed, N'Jobu thought darkly. T'Chaka was his soul’s other half. The Questions to his Answers; The Moon to his Sun, and he had given him up.
Mother was right, N'Jobu thought as he neared T’Chaka, I am selflessly foolish.
When he had told T'Chaka marry Ramonda he thought to soothe tension with her Tribe. The River tribe had the largest population of all the 18 tribes in Wakanda. They aided the Border tribes, army and special forces in the defense of the waterways into and out of Wakanda. Before T’Chaka’s coup the terrorist organization Desturi had been traced suspiciously close to their tribe before it disbanded and they had been at odds with the Golden Tribe since the very beginning of his mother's reign.
Even mother sought to appease them, N’Jobu thought. Why else would she build them state of the art facilities and settlements for their ever growing population.
The River tribe was also an exceptionally vocal part of Wakanda and they tried to capitalize on every facet of influence they could; hence Ramonda. At the time he thought it was important that they stayed within the fold, and she had been groomed for years a warrior and companion and out of all of the River tribe only she and two others were chosen to be Dora Milaje.
When T'Chaka seized the throne they had sent their new candidates for the Dora Milaje even a fool could see what they wanted. N'Jobu considered himself neither a fool nor gullible. Ramonda's presence within the Dora Milaje wasn't a suggestion of a wife for the king; it was a threat.
But what he had advised was against their very nature and in the short years between her marriage to T’Chaka and the birth of T’Challa N’Jobu had come to see why separating them like this was against the will of Bast.
It was foolish, He told himself, but it was the right thing to do.
T'Chaka had kept their mother confined to the Learned City under house arrest indefinitely and while many preferred the flashy, empty peace of his rule to their mother's bloody advancement it was a mistake to lock her away.
Their mother's council was invaluable especially when dealing with the underhanded world of Wakandan politics. T'Chaka thought he was good at it but the nation knew Azzaria Udaku its master.
It was why he had gone to her to ask for help with T'Chaka. She could give him the best answer. He wanted that cold logic. He could not think so close to T'Chaka. Even now he could feel himself begin to gravitate towards him.
His mother's advice was subtle but he got her message: an assurance in body from the Golden Jaguar to the Black Panther could only mean one thing, a child.
N'Jobu had to give T'Chaka a child.
It had been that way for time immemorial. Wakandan royalty were dynasties of equal primogeniture, the eldest child, regardless of sex or gender, became the monarch but in cases such as N'Jobu and T'Chaka's, twins with elder siblings who could not inherit, Bast intervened and made one the Golden Jaguar.
T'Chaka would not murder his soulmate in cold blood but if he could he would live a life cursed. A life where he had carved out the other half of his soul. He would know no peace. He would know no other love and he would slowly go mad with the longing to join his love in death. Likewise the Golden Jaguar could have no other heirs but those of their mate.
N'Jobu could take every cock from the Jabari-Lands to Birnin Azzaria but he could only conceive with Damisa-Sarki.
It was useful on missions where he had to sleep with his marks but outside of his life as a Dog of War it was problematic. Especially when he had given his one chance for a child of his own to Ramonda.
She could have had a child with any man but N'Jobu could only have T'Chaka's seed, and it was T'Chaka's seed that would set him free.
T’Chaka’s attention climbed up his spine as he entered the radius of there mutual awareness and he popped his bones there as he rolled his hips. He could feel the blanket of T'Chaka's interest as it settled over his body.
His flesh tingled. It felt right to have T'Chaka focused so closely on him. The anticipation of a key sliding into the correct lock lit up their synapses as their essence lapped at one another on a plane only they could exist on.
One soul in two bodies, N'Jobu thought as T'Chaka's delight finally merged with his own.
N'Jobu stopped before the Dora Milaje at the doors to T'Chaka's study and waited while they bowed before him. “I wish to speak to King T'Chaka.” N'Jobu requested of them and he could feel T'Chaka's focus on him. They pushed and pulled on each other like the tides under a indecisive moon and when the Dora Milaje wordlessly opened the doors he smiled.
His Shadow In The Dark called to him and he answered like he always would. “Mansa T'Chaka.”
T'Chaka smiled. “Little brother,”
N'Jobu grinned and rushed to embrace him. T'Chaka cradled his head and held him to him in a vice grip and as he leaned down to inhale great lungfuls of his scent. T'Chaka pulled back and looked at him.
“I wish to leave Wakanda on assignment–” N'Jobu began and T'Chaka frowned and let him go.
“N'Jobu,” T'Chaka sighed as he returned to his desk, once again the dutiful king, and in that moment N'Jobu hated Wakanda.
Look at what it has done to you, my soul, N'Jobu thought, look at you putting distance between us for people who would kill you if they felt they had reason.
“I am busy.” N’Jobu narrowed his eyes at T’Chaka’s tone. “I am going over the blueprints for the River tribes' new–”
“The River tribe's new what?” N'Jobu asked mildly as he clasped his hands behind his back. “The River tribe needs no new anything. What is this new construction, hmm?” N'Jobu asked and T'Chaka's frown deepened.
“Mother spent several fortunes building them facilities and housing for everyone from the chieftains to the common citizens.” N'Jobu reminded him. “What more could they possibly need? Reject their request. They don't need–”
“I know, N'Jobu.” T'Chaka admitted dragging his hand over his face. “I know. I am merely finding reasons to reject their proposal. That River tribe girl–”
“Ramonda.” N'Jobu prompted.
T'Chaka rolled his eyes. “Ramonda,” T'Chaka mocked and N'Jobu cracked a smile. “Acts as if she is the mouthpiece for the whole tribe. I swear by the Orisha, whoever did her coaching spent years on petty grievances and assine requests alone. Look at this,” T'Chaka said activating his kimoyo beads and the blueprints he had been reviewing came to life in front of them. “Do they honestly need this many rooms for a library? They already have twenty of them–”
“T'Chaka,” N'Jobu cut him off as he released his hands and came closer to him and the magnetism between them strengthened. “About my assignment?”
“N'Jobu,” T'Chaka sighed as he disengaged his kimoyo band but N’Jobu watched as he leaned into his space. Receptive body language. “We have been over this. I–”
“You have spoken brother but you have not let me have my say.” N'Jobu spoke as he came around the desk.
He caught the scent of T'Chaka's body and the dark notes of sandalwood and jasmine, myrrh, tuberose and a deep, wild honey ignited the embers of desire within and warmed N'Jobu's core. N’Jobu pressed his legs together but he was helpless as began he to drip molton desire down his thighs and into the white linen of his pants.
T'Chaka's nose twitched as the scent of N'Jobu's desire washed over him and his lust made his scent that much more rich. N'Jobu licked his lips. He gave himself to the desire and he longed to taste the salt of T'Chaka's skin.
He gushed honey from inside him as watched T'Chaka's eyes track the movement of his tongue with blown wide pupils. T'Chaka looked into him and a desire only they could know passed between them.
This is a mission from your queen, N’Jobu thought, do let passion steal your freedom.
This is T’Chaka, he reminded himself, you must convince him of the necessary cruelty.
T'Chaka always understood the cruelty of the world and he could convince himself of any number of them. It drove him. He dealt in shades of gray, lesser evils and lesser cruelties. It’s how he had dared to seize the throne from their mother but while T’Chaka locked her away and let his skills atrophy hers only sharpened and N’Jobu knew him.
His selfishness and cruelty made him predictable.
It was their mother knew how to manipulate him had advised him to give T'Chaka a choice between a larger cruelty and a lesser one; he had to feel noble, as if he was doing him a favor.
N'Jobu let his desire leak into the tight space between his thighs. This too, he thought, makes him predictable. “I know you as no other will, T'Chaka.” T’Chaka straighten up in his high backed chair as N’Jobu came closer.
“I know you like assurances. The safe bet–” N'Jobu chided with a laugh and T'Chaka didn't dishonor him with a lie. “I am the Jaguar. I am yours,” N'Jobu stressed as he leaned on the edge of T'Chaka's desk. “But I realize that might not be enough. You have known another as you have never known me and you have given her a piece of you to grow inside her.”
N'Jobu reached for T'Chaka's wide palm and pressed it under his shirt and to the smooth skin over his sex where his womb lay. T’Chaka’s eyes blew open and his sucked shock down into his lungs.
“I am the Jaguar and you are the Panther,” N'Jobu reminded him as T'Chaka's hand pressed heat into him.
N'Jobu could smell the honey of his slick as T'Chaka's other hand reached and tried to bear his mound to the air. N'Jobu trembled as T'Chaka inhaled languid breaths of his scent, jolting as T'Chaka's hand pressed to where he was hot and moist.
“Only you can give that to me. Only your seed–” N'Jobu struggled to speak when T'Chaka slid his greedy fingers through the nectar of his mound. “--Can ripen within me. Only you can give me a piece of you so precious.” N’Jobu encouraged as T'Chaka gentled his fingers over hungry lips.
“My Lord King,” N'Jobu trembled as T'Chaka coated his fingers in his sweet nectar there, gasping as T'Chaka slid his soft linen pants down to expose his sex. He shivered. “I wish to leave for America–” T'Chaka growled in protest but N'Jobu leaned down and silenced him with a kiss.
“They are ignorant there. No man will know what I am or the gift you will have given me. They will not understand me,” N'Jobu eyes filled with tears and T'Chaka made a distressed noise and nuzzled his neck.
N'Jobu laughed and nuzzled him back, taking the comfort the Panther was offering. They had not done this in some time. It was more intimate than a kiss, gaining comfort from his Panther like this.
“But I will have a strength they will not know. You will have given me a stone on which to build a mountain. Please, my Lord King,” N'Jobu asked pulling back to look into T'Chaka's face.
He's crying, N'Jobu realized as he watched tears fall down T'Chaka's cheeks, He is scared for me. It warmed him but N'Jobu hardened his heart.
“Give me a child, T'Chaka. My Soul,” N'Jobu grabbed T'Chaka's hand and pushed one of his thick fingers into the tight, wetness between his thighs. “Give me a son.”
N'Jobu cried out as T'Chaka flicked his thumb over his clit and he growled so loudly the vibranium in the walls light up in brilliant yellow, orange and red storing the power of his pleasure within. N'Jobu grabbed his shoulders as T’Chaka sank his thristy fingers into him.
“Yes, my king-” N'Jobu yelled headless of the Dora Milaje outside of the door as T'Chaka freed his hot, heavy cock.
N'Jobu felt behind him and swept everything off of T'Chaka's desk and climbed onto it. T'Chaka removed N’Jobu’s sandals and pulled his linen pants off and threw them behind him on the ground. N'Jobu spread his thighs coaxing as T'Chaka closed his eyes as he drank in the familiar scent of N'Jobu's dripping desire. “ State your claim on me, my lord king. Let them know I am yours.”
T'Chaka gave a chuffing growl that shook N'Jobu to his bones and more of his hot, honeyed essence gushed out of him onto the wood of T’Chaka’s desk. N'Jobu's eyes widened as T'Chaka grabbed him by the thighs and pulled him to the edge of his desk.
T'Chaka knocked his desk chair carelessly to the ground and pressed the blunt head of his dick against N’Jobu’s mound and pushed against the slick, juicy lips there.
N'Jobu wrapped a leg around T'Chaka's trim waist and pulled him to where he was blooming open; wet, hungry and clenching on air. “Let us be one once again.”
N'Jobu whimpered as T'Chaka settled heavy hands over his hips and dragged him onto the fat head of his cock. The wide, spongy flesh of T'Chaka's dick slid into the space inside N'Jobu Bast had made for them.
“My soul,” N'Jobu sobbed as T'Chaka buried himself inside of his sweetness. N'Jobu pulled T'Chaka down over him as they completed each other again.
N'Jobu laughed as T'Chaka leaned down and pressed sweet kisses over his eyelids and cheeks. N'Jobu clenched down on T'Chaka's cock with sudden wickedness and chuckled as T'Chaka's eyes rolled into the back of his head.
N'Jobu's triumph was short lived as T'Chaka recovered and started working him open with an ageless pace that he had always he loved so much.
N'Jobu quaked when T'Chaka reached down to his engorged clit and started to lavish it with his fingers. His mouth dropped open as T'Chaka manhandled his other leg over his hip.
“My Panther,” He wailed helplessly on T'Chaka's dick as it returned over and over, rocking into his warm creamy hole.
“Take me,” He gasped as T'Chaka leaned down to kiss him. N'Jobu pulled him down over him. He was throbing and T'Chaka's thick, unyeilding cock stretched his rim until it was sore and puffy.
“Take me,” N'Jobu gasped again and T'Chaka began to worry dark bruises into his skin with his teeth. “T'Chaka, please–”
“How can I take something that is already mine?” T'Chaka smirked as he started to fuck the slick clutch of N'Jobu in earnest.
It was so good, N'Jobu thought tilting his hips up and T'Chaka slid in even deeper.
It is just like it was before,N'Jobu thought but it was a lie. He was lying to himself.
He was lying to himself and it was stupid.
Weakness, he thought before his belly clenched and his walls tighten around the delicious length of T'Chaka's cock in orgasm. It was exquisite.
N'Jobu gasped as T'Chaka's cock erratically flexed within him. It was only the sound of hitching sobs and the scent of salt that let N'Jobu know he wasn't cumming but crying.
“T'Chaka?” He asked trying to look at him.
“I am sorry,” T'Chaka sniffed suddenly, snapping his hips in a sharp thrust to distract him. N'Jobu pushed at his shoulders but he refused to leave his hiding spot until he spoke his name with worry.
N'Jobu looked up at his tear stricken face came away from his shoulder. “I am sorry.”
“It is okay, T'Chaka,” N'Jobu whispered as he tried to sooth him but T’Chaka shook his head in distress. “My soul, it is okay.”
“It is not. I am horrible to you,” N'Jobu’s eyes widened as T'Chaka began to confess. N'Jobu watched as stopped moving within him and wiped his palm over his face. Shamed, he looked away from to a distant corner of his office.
“You have given up so much for me and I am trying to force you to stay. It is wrong. It is wrong and I don't care.” T'Chaka confessed with helpless sobs.
“I don't care that I am hurting you enough to stop. I can't lose you, N'Jobu. I can't. I–” N'Jobu shook with the revelation. He suspected but he had never heard the truth of it spoken.
T'Chaka sobbed again as he he laid his last sin bare before him.“I do not know how to be without you.”
N'Jobu’s face crumbled and iron filled his nose as he to began to cry too. “Then give me your passion, T'Chaka,” N'Jobu commanded through his tears and T’Chaka turned his lost face to him. I must not let my sadness overtake me.
“Give me your drive and your focus. Give me the parts of you that want me to be protected and safe. Give me all of the parts of you that love me and let them grow fruit. Let us create something of us alone,” N'Jobu ordered opening his legs wider.
T'Chaka drove his thick cock into the new place N'Jobu opened between them, grabbing onto his words with the his hips.
N'Jobu voice was thick with need as T'Chaka’s fucking gained speed and conviction. “as Bast intended. Let our child be the best parts of us both and give him to me.”
N'Jobu pulled T'Chaka down by his arms and kissed him. “Give yourself to me this last time and let me be free.”
N'Jobu purred as T'Chaka leaned down and licked his teeth and bit his wide, kiss swollen lips. “So demanding, my soul,” T'Challa chuckled wetly as he rode the space between N'Jobu's wet, sucking lips. “You should be ruling at my side.”
“I can not be your queen,” N'Jobu said manhandling T'Chaka into a bruising kiss. T'Chaka flexed his thick cock inside of him and N’Jobu gasped as it knocked against where T’Chaka’s thick cock had worked him sore.
“I am not a woman.” He reminded him and T'Chaka hiked his leg up and thrust into him in retaliation. “And you already have your queen,”
“And my heir?” T'Chaka said leaning back with a frown.
N'Jobu tried to nudge him back into movement with his foot but T'Chaka wouldn't budge. N'Jobu closed his eyes and T'Chaka clicked his teeth in frustration.
N'Jobu groaned. T'Chaka was brilliant but it didn't take a genius to navigate that slip of tongue.
“You would not join my side,” T'Chaka admonished and N'Jobu sighed. He was long used to hearing T'Chaka's designs for their lives but he thought he had given them up.
“It was the only option left to me. You said so yourself, N'Jobu.” N'Jobu raised an eyebrow.
So he was N'Jobu now?
“So I am N'Jobu, now, my Soul?” N'Jobu accused but T'Chaka plowed on.
“ –Is this why you want a child?”
“I told you why–” N'Jobu pushed himself off the desk and folded himself into T'Chaka's space and bared his teeth. “Fuck me.”
T'Chaka's eyes darken and he bared his own teeth in answer to the challenge. “Gladly.”
“Wait.” N'Jobu said pushing T'Chaka back and out of him. He turned and spread his legs over the desk and T'Chaka chuckled darkly and climbed onto it with him. N'Jobu thanked Bast for Jabari wood as the desk held their weight.
He groaned as T'Chaka pulled him wider and fucked up into his pussy.
“T'Chaka,” N'Jobu panted as he tried to ease the mood back to where it was. “Has your cock always been so big?”
“You would be more used to it if you let me have you more than these horribly cruel moments in secret.” T'Chaka grunted as he punched his cock into N'Jobu's sore and swollen lips. N'Jobu gushed through another orgasm but T'Chaka wouldn't quit. T'Chaka yanked him back into his brutal thrusts.
“Why have you denied me until now? Why did you leave me, my soul?” T'Chaka whispered as rode his cunt.
“I could not. You are married T'Chaka.” N'Jobu reminded him and the 'and not to me' passes in deafening silence between them. “You have a son.”
“I married her at your council.” T'Chaka snarled as he rolled into a savage thrust. “She is nothing to me.” He said fucking him harder and N'Jobu held on to the desk as T'Chaka pounded malice into him. His eyes widened in horror at what T'Chaka was saying.
He had a son.
“T'Challa should have come from your womb.” T'Chaka rammed into him. “I would have our child sit on the throne after me”
Did he know what he was saying? N’Jobu thought. What could happen if the wrong ears heard this? T’Challa, little T’Challa with his blue and brown eye, why was everyone so ready to kill him? He was innocent. He knew no evil. He had done no evil. N'Jobu yanked his hand of his hip and pulled him close enough to see his face.
“Don't you dare,” He threatened the king of Wakanda and the Black Panther with the Dora Milaje outside. “Bast damn you, don't you fucking dare. T'Challa has nothing to do with any of this. Would you damn our child to a life of being the prince who had to murder to get his throne? Hmm?” N'Jobu asked and T'Chaka's scent soured with shame. “I told you to pour love into me to make a child we can be proud of and you would fuck hatred for Ramonda and your pampered life as a king into our child? A unjustified hatred of T'Challa just for being born your son? Is that what you think I want for my child? What would he think of Wakanda?”
“Fuck, Wakanda.” T'Chaka spat and N'Jobu cackled at the poor theatrics of his lie. “I would trade it all if I could have you.”
“Liar.” N'Jobu hissed as his puffy, tender lips sucked on T'Chaka's dick as it lay inside him.
“So I am,” T'Chaka admitted cooly and N'Jobu laughed miserably. “I would like you here with me, but I love you to dearly to see you in such misery.” T’Chaka conceded and N’Jobu knew he had finally won.
T’Chaka would give himself the smaller cruelty. He would let N’Jobu out into the world to rid himself of this moment of shame.
His selfish, predictable soulmate.
“You are like those bird people mother would always tell us about.”
“Bird people?” N'Jobu gave sputtering laugh. “I'm a bird-person now?”
“No,” T'Chaka hissed with a laugh of his own. “One of the tales from before Wakanda, of the Nri and the village in the sky–”
“And the people who lived in the clouds.” N'Jobu finished and true, hot, uncontrollable tears came to him. “Am I the man who bought the woman or are you?” N'Jobu sobbed in the face of T’Chaka’s cruelty.
Is that what he thinks of me, N’Jobu thought wretchedly.
T’Chaka pulled out of him delicately and silently picked up his chair off the ground. N'Jobu refused to look back to him until he was seated and called out to him. “Well?” He demanded and T'Chaka gestured for him to ride his cock in the chair.
He wiped his eyes but he turned and guided T'Chaka's cock back inside him. The fullness was no longer pleasant and he just wanted him to cum and to give him his child. It all he wanted. He did not want to hear old tales from childhood.
He wanted to leave.
“You always ask that.” T'Chaka whispered as he wiped away N’Jobu’s tears.
“You are Ife,” He admitted pulling him into an embrace and N’Jobu held him in shock as he broke apart into sobs. “You are Ife and I am the foolish old man who thought that he could own a happy caged bird.” T’Chaka recounted their similarity and he listened to T’Chaka’s version of the tale.
“I have locked you in the cellar and blinded your eyes, I am even giving you children,” T'Chaka sobbed in his shoulder and N'Jobu spoke his name softly and he leaned back to meet his eyes. A sad, pitiful, wet smile danced on his face. “I am foolish. I never listened to mother like you. I tried to make you forget the sun, my Jaguar.”
N'Jobu kissed the crown of his brother's head and he started to ride him gently through their tears.
“I am sorry,” T'Chaka sobbed again and N'Jobu made soft sounds in this throat to soothe him.
He thrust into N’Jobu absently, some distant part of him knowing how to give N'Jobu what he needed. “I am so, so sorry that I am so foolish, N'Jobu. That I have trapped you here my blackbird.”
N'Jobu swiveled his hips one last time and T'Chaka's balls pulsed inside of him and his cock throbbed. N'Jobu's mound bloomed as T'Chaka's knot grew gently and locked inside of him. A knot only for the Jaguar. The only way N'Jobu could conceive with the only man in the world he could conceive with, Bast Blessed Damisa-Sarki.
N'Jobu gave grateful kisses to the other half of his soul as T'Chaka's thick cock pumped hot, creamy life into the raw honey of N'Jobu's ripe and fertile womb and he looked out at the sky as the sun set over Canaan.
He could feel T'Chaka within his soul again so deep it must have been a memory from when they were one and complete. He felt a glimmer of their light begin to grow its own roots inside him.
“He can cover your eyes, little Blackbird,” His mother said. “He can wrap the whole of his fist around your life, but remember: There is no fist wide enough to hide the sky.”
N'Jobu closed his eyes and in his mind he turned into a flock of birds and began to fly away.
Mansa: King | Queen
Damisa-Sarki- Wakandan, The Panther | Black Panther
Geography is taken from the Coates run map.
The old Wakandan history of the Nri village and the story of Ife and her flight can be found in issue 6 of Ta-Neshisi Coates' Black Panther run.
N'Jobu and T'Chaka are soulmates. In an act of divine intervention to prevent the murder of one sibling to another in generations where there is an issue of succession within the Udaku line | Golden Tribe a Golden Jaguar is born. The Golden Jaguar is not commonly occurring and it can only be a member of the Golden Tribe.
The Golden Jaguar can only reproduce with the Black Panther.
The Udaku line is one of equal primogeniture meaning the eldest child inherits the throne regardless of gender. But in cases of political upheaval, one sibling can kill the other and claim the throne for their branch of the family with the Gift of Bast in the Golden Jaguar that is a usual none issue. It is a perfect match but life is not perfect.
N'Jobu and T'Chaka are born twins and as royal twins, with the fact that their other siblings do not desire the throne and the fact that the country is rife with political strife one of them was bound to be the Golden Jaguar. It is N'Jobu.
“How did it happen?” Azzaria demanded and her father's advisor M'Bikki jumped at her tone. She frowned. She was his queen now, what did he have to fear from her? But Azzaria was not the type of woman to lie to herself. She knew.
Her mother was the daughter of a Jabari noble and a Kenyan priestess. Her grandmother had their white hair and blue eyes and gave them to her daughter who gave them to her daughter. Her mother had also given her the height of both races. She towered over the average Wakandan. She was alien and when her mother had won the mantle of Black Panther the itch of unrest plagued the nation.
Of course, their xenophobic people killed the strange Jabari queen and her jambazi king. Bast be damned, they'd murder even Damisa-Sarki, the Sword of the Nation, to soothe their prejudice hearts.
They would know fear, Azzaria thought as her hands shook as she activated her airship.
“A bomb, princess.”
“I am sorry, majesty.”
Had she minced her words? Surely he wasn't this incompetent.
“I am your queen,” She addressed the delegation of Kingsguard and Dora Milaje they had come to retrieve her from Oxford as the ship rose on the currents of the magnetosphere. She hummed and the vibranium of the ship caught the vibrations and activated the ship's cloaking device. She looked around the cabin as she walked towards the vibranium sand in the receptacle on the floor. “You will address me as nothing else.”
The Kingsguard and Dora Milaje crossed their arms as one in the Wakandan salute. “My queen.”
M'Bikki grimaced. “It was a bomb, my queen,”
Was that so difficult? Azzaria thought as N'Gassi and another of the Dora Milaje walked past her to the controls of the ship. Only N'Gassi, her hand-selected Dora Milaje, knew how to pilot the ship. Azzaria had designed and built it herself and had not shared the technology or blueprints with anyone. To fly this ship you had to be taught Azzaria's innovations and she took comfort in the foresight. She was designing all her own ships from now on.
“A vibranium bomb.” M'Bikki finished.
“How much of the city was destroyed?” She asked. Every single atom of vibranium held energy both from the initial impact and creation of Mena Ngai and due to its sound-absorbing properties it could contain even more energy. A single chip of it could power any device in the primitive outside world for decades without the knowledge of tapping into its energy.
Their technology was clean and hundreds of years ahead of anything the outside world had because of it. Wakandan scientists could tap into the direct energy contained within vibranium and a whole bomb made of it could level entire cities and change the landscape of nations. If the outside world gained control of it and the knowledge to use it they could destroy the each other and the world in an instant and someone had used the Gift of Bast to kill the king and Black Panther.
“The damage was minimal,” M'Bikki frowned looking down at his kimoyo beads. They would not work so far from Mena Ngai and it's ambient energy. He could not show her the damage. “Only half of the palace and the most of the surrounding area was destroyed.”
Her stomach plummeted. “N'Gassi,” She said and the Dora Milaje gestured for her sisters to join her and she banged her spear on the ground. The other Dora Milaje joined her and the impurity of the vibranium steel alloy of their spears and the walls of the ship resonated. The sound bounced from the reflective surfaces of the parallel walls and the echoes buffeted the floor and the vibranium sand on the floor light up in blues, greens, and yellows as it absorbed the energy and sound.
Azzaria raised her hand and they stopped as she pointed her kimoyo beads and pressed a bead. M'Bikki's eyes widened in shock as the vibranium sand began to levitate and formed itself into the information stored in his own inert beads. A perfect replica of the bomb hovered in the air and Azzaria pursed her lips.
“My queen, how–”
“It makes no sense to have the most advanced technology in the world if it doesn't work outside of our country, does it?” Azzaria said before snapping her fingers. At the sound the bomb slowly began to explode. Fragments of something immediately came out of its casing and she knew how the bomb had penetrated her mother's habit. She pointed a lacquered nail at the material as the bomb continued to combust.
“The shrapnel,” She said looking around. “Has it been analyzed?”
“It has, my queen.” At Azzaria's quick nod N'Gassi banged the vibranium alloy of her spear on the ground and the image changed. She was long used to the quickness of her mind and her impatience for answers. The sound shuddered the sand and it reformed into shards of impossibly strong splinters. “It was Jabari wood.”
Azzaria's laughed bitterly. “Of course it was.”
“Then it seems the answer to this conspiracy is easy and neatly wrapped up for me,” Azzaria replied raising her eyebrows. Azzaria tapped her nails on her lips. The obvious conclusion would be the Jabari but it was just that; obvious. “Have the Jabari claimed responsibility for the assassination?”
“No, my queen.” M'Bikki winced at the term and Azzaria wanted to tear him apart at the weakness. Had her father surrounded himself with spineless yes-men? “But they must be brought to heel. For too long the Jabari–”
“It is unlike the Jabari not to claim responsibility for a successful assassination of both the King and the Black Panther.” Azzaria reminded them. “They would delight in crippling Wakanda and showing the people that we are not as invincible as we seen.”
“No,” She said as she arrived at the answer. “There is prejudice and expectation in this attack. The cloak and dagger of killing the King, his foreign wife the 'unworthy' Black Panther,” She sneered and watched as M'Bikki looked away. Was it with guilt, she thought. “And lying in wait to see what I will do. This was done with knowledge and patience. They can watch and that is the purpose.”
She gathered her strength around her until her skin felt as if it were stone. “This attack came from inside. Wakandans killed their king and queen.” The cabin was struck silent with the revelation.
“The Warrior Falls ceremony,” Azzaria said sitting down. “Will be held in two weeks.”
“My queen,” M'Bikki gasped. “The ceremony takes months to prepare and there are more important matters to–”
“The perpetrators of this attack wish to destroy my dynasty and have killed my parents and hundreds of Wakandans just to do so,” She said waving him off. “They will not miss the opportunity to finish the job. The ceremony will legitimize their attack as the consequences of ritual combat will give them both the throne and the mantle of The Panther as well as the support of the people. They can not pass up such a chance.”
“And you will offer yourself as bait.” N'Gassi pointed out.
“A necessary risk.” Azzaria conceded. “All of Wakanda will be in attendance and they can humiliate and kill me in one fell swoop. The tribes responsible will expose themselves before the nation and I will kill their champion in ritual combat.”
“My queen,” M'Bikki implored. “If you are killed–”
“I have no plans to die, M'Bikki.” Azzaria waved him off.
“None do, my queen.” M'Bikki looked around for support as they finally reached Africa. “ I am worried about the safety of this kingdom. The Panther is dead–”
“I am aware of my mother's death–”
“–And without Damisa-Sarki's protection Wakanda–”
“There was a Wakanda before Bashenga himself became the first king and Black Panther and there will be a Wakanda after kings and the Black Panther.” Azzaria reminded him as her face hardened. “The ceremony is to legitimize my claim to the throne and will allow me to take up the mantle of The Panther. I can not afford to wait months as my enemies plot my demise and the country slips further into unrest. The ceremony will be held in two weeks.”
“I am your queen.” Azzaria Udaku said with finality and M'Bikki bowed. "I am not asking you."
“Yes, my queen.”
N'Gassi's face twisted. “There is more, my queen.”
“What else?” Azzaria asked exasperated.
“There was a message with the bombing.” N'Gassi banged her spear on the ground.
“What–” It would have been the first question Azzaria asked but the blast radius of the explosion was simulated.
The ship her parents had been in was blasted apart so totally it would take years to find all of the pieces. The bodies had been removed but the blood was a ruin of dark brown splotches where arms, legs, and organs had been thrown about and above the largest part of the wreckage were two words.
I must continue to be strong, she thought, now is not the time for tears.
I must not allow my sadness to overtake me.
“When I dreamed of being queen I was a queen of peace,” Azzaria Udaku said mildly as the guards in the cabin looked on. “But it seems I am to be a queen of war.”
She got up and stared at the words until the ship passed through Wakanda's magnetic force field.
The words were intended to hurt her but she would become them in these last moments before she reached the capital and then they could not hurt her.
Wakanda for Wakandans.
Mena Ngai: the Great Mound.
Wakandan Technology is 300 years more advanced than the rest of the world in this fic. Azzaria's ship flies with the same logic as Magneto flying, magnetic levitation utilizing the earth's magnetic field, and is the technological equivalent.
The information on vibranium is canon for 616 and I added real-world implementations for sound-based technology and kept the energy and information storing aspects.
For more information on vibranium please consult the 616 wiki and the 2016 Ta-Neshisi Coates Black Panther run. All Wakandan energy is green and renewable and I tried to find a canon application for charging vibranium on the fly that would be known only to people who lived and died around it for centuries.
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Chapter 6: T'Challa II
“Get back,” N'Jadaka said as the UN paramedics tried to rush to T'Challa.
He was grateful in the distance space where his feelings were being barred from him. He could not feel anything but the weight of his father's body and N'Jadaka's presence.
He was rocking his baba's body back and forth, He will rip them apart if they come any closer, T'Challa thought as the Dora Milaje joined N'Jadaka with their delegation's medical staff.
“Get back.” N'Jadaka commanded again and the paramedics finally retreated to see to the other victims of the blast.
The hot tang of tears had faded with the warmth of his father's body and shame filled him when N'Jadaka prowled on towards him. He had lost his focus and look what happened. He had hesitated to consider foreign politics and now his father was dead.
N'Jadaka wouldn't have hesitated, T'Challa thought as new conviction solidified his grief into stone. N'Jadaka would be hunting them down right now. Nothing would stop him. Rain; distance, time, depth, nothing. He would find them and he would kill them.
N'Jadaka's chest rumbled with a subvocal skipping purr as he gestured for their medical staff to wait behind him. He is trying to soothe me, T'Challa thought, Am I so helpless I need to be coddled like a child? He glanced up at N'Jadaka as he neared and his face was flushed with his own grief.
He is soothing himself, T'Challa thought and his stomach twisted, I am so foolish.
His soulmate was suffering and he focused only on himself. What a selfish boy you are, a wicked voice said to him, You have ignored the other half of your soul to grieve alone.
N'Jadaka sank into an uneasy crouch and peered down at T'Chaka's unmoving body. T'Challa offered the body to him and N'Jadaka shook his head as his tears finally fell. This close to T'Challa the edges that separated their soul were at their weakest and he could feel the open wound of N'Jadaka's pain.
T'Challa offered him the comfort again and N'Jadaka stood with a growl, baring the gold vibranium of his teeth. He would not take comfort from T'Chaka even in death and his sadness became a livid, burning heat and the strength T'Challa needed.
He is going to kill whoever did this, T'Challa thought as the medical team and the Dora Milaje finally gathered around them.
I am going to kill whoever did this, T'Challa decided as he handed the paramedics his baba's body.
The paramedics flinched back as N'Jadaka pounced towards them and removed the ring from T'Chaka's finger, Azzaria Udaku's ring.
He knelt on the knees of his suit in the carnage of the ruined United Nations assembly before the representatives from 117 countries and held the ring out to T'Challa. Their delegation joined him kneeling and bowed to N'Jadaka and T'Challa as T'Challa held out his hand to him.
Countless eyes watched as N'Jadaka slipped the ring onto T'Challa's finger and sparks passed between them as N'Jadaka declared him to the world in English, “My King.”
T'Challa had never desired N'Jadaka as strongly as he did at that moment. He had given him strength, he had given him his title before the world and he gave him conviction. He purred as the scent of their desire washed over them both and N'Jadaka flashed him a golden smirk.
He wanted to lick his teeth.
“My King.” The Dora Milaje said as they crossed their arms in salute.
“My King.” The rest of the delegation said as they too saluted him and he saluted them back.
They got back to work and T'Challa's eyes narrowed as he watched as Erik Lensherr moved the debris away from the exits. Where was he, T'Challa thought as he caught sight of Ororo's worried blue eyes as she escorted Xavier out of the room.
Okoye stepped into his line of sight and her mouth was a hard line of displeasure. "My King.” She asked as N'Jadaka joined them and to looked her.
“We will find who did this and I will kill them,” T'Challa said in Wakandan. “Slowly.”
She nodded and left after calling Ayo, Nakia, and Nanali to surround him. N'Jadaka looked around before his eyes narrowed. “Where's that spider-bitch?”
T'Challa inhaled and caught her scent. “Do you think she had something to do with it?”
“Let's cut her ass open and see,” N'Jadaka growled as he turned and told the medics to start preserving the body. It needed to be ready for funeral rites and to be placed in Necropolis when they returned to Wakanda.
N'Jadaka began to pace back and forth as he often did when he began to plan an operation. T'Challa found comfort in the familiar sight. “Pick her ass clean, T'Challa and I'll see what I can dig up.”
“They're saying it's the Winter Soldier.” Someone said across the room and N'Jadaka and T'Challa turned as one towards the person they shouldn't be able to hear. N'Jadaka looked back at him and caught his eyes.
It was Ororo and she looked so much like their grandmother it was strange to hear words of peace coming from her. Azzaria Udaku was a queen of war and knowledge and to hold back the knowledge of one's enemies was unheard of to her or to their family.
See, N'Jadaka's eyes said catching his own, I told you about her.
“I am telling him,” Pietro said scowling at Xavier. He must have been the one to pick it out of someone's mind. “Some of us have integrity.”
“I'll speak to the Black Widow,” T'Challa said to N'Jadaka. “If it is Barnes, she is close to the Captain and that will be enough of a lead on his location. Kimoyo can do the rest.”
“I'm going undercover to see what else I can find out,” N'Jadaka said with a frown. “Something ain't adding up. If it all checks out it's nothing but call me when you find him. I want a piece of his ass too.”
T'Challa nods and before N'Jadaka leaves T'Challa grabbed his arm in a hold that would shatter the bones of anyone else. “Be careful, my soul.”
“I always am,” N'Jadaka looked into his eyes. “You be careful too, Azzaria-Udaku.”
T'Challa frowns at the warning but he lets him go and the other half of him disappears into the crowd.