C445 Wakanda Drama

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As the name N'Jadaka echoed through the air, it was met with a mixture of confusion and curiosity. T'Chaka's somber expression revealed that this name carried a weight that few others could comprehend. His gaze remained distant, his thoughts a tumultuous sea of memories and regrets.

Ramonda, on the other hand, looked just as puzzled as the rest. She glanced at T'Chaka for a moment, silently questioning the significance of the name. But her husband's reaction was enough to tell her that this was a topic best discussed in private.

While the others exchanged bewildered glances, Peter maintained his casual demeanor, though inside he couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement. N'Jadaka, better known as Erik Killmonger, was a name that held significant weight in the history of Wakanda. But Peter kept his knowledge locked up tight, refusing to reveal anything. At least for the time being.

The Ancient One's eyes flickered with a knowing glint, having glimpsed the threads of fate that connected N'Jadaka's story with T'Challa's. But like Peter, she remained silent, content to let everything unfold without interference.

As T'Chaka quickly ushered his daughter Shuri inside the palace, leaving the Councilmen momentarily standing there, Ramonda's keen intuition urged her to follow. "I apologize, but I should go and see to the coronation ceremony. Okoye! Take care of the guests…" She cast a brief apologetic look to the guests before briskly walking after her husband and daughter, a storm of thoughts churning in her mind.

Meanwhile, Okoye, the steadfast leader of the Dora Milaje, stepped forward to fill the silence that had settled over the courtyard. She greeted the guests with a respectful nod, her eyes sweeping over each Council member with a sense of vigilance and assessment. "Greetings, honored guests. I am Okoye, leader of the Dora Milaje. Shall I give you a tour of the palace?"

Lily's eyes sparkled with curiosity as she looked around, clearly impressed by the surroundings. "Yes, please! This place is amazing."

With a graceful gesture, Okoye led the Council members through the majestic palace. She shared tidbits of history, culture, and tradition, guiding them through corridors adorned with intricate carvings and vibrant tapestries. The palace was a testament to Wakanda's rich heritage and advanced technology, a harmonious blend of the old and the new.

As they walked, Lily couldn't help but notice the formidable female guards stationed throughout the palace. She looked up at Okoye with a curious smile. "Why are all the guards women?"

Okoye's posture remained regal as she explained, her voice carrying a hint of pride. "The Dora Milaje are the elite female warriors of Wakanda. We serve as the personal bodyguards of the Black Panther and the Golden Tribe."

MJ nodded in appreciation. "Cool, are you the boss? …Do you beat up all of the boy guards? …Can I hold your spear? …Is it made of vibranium?" She fired off question after question, clearly overexcited.

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In the heart of the palace, Ramonda stood before T'Chaka and Shuri, her expression a mixture of concern and urgency. "T'Chaka, what is the meaning of this? Who is N'Jadaka?"

T'Chaka's eyes held a weariness that seemed to stretch beyond time itself. He took a deep breath before answering, his voice heavy with emotion. "N'Jadaka is my brother's son, my nephew. He was born in Oakland, California."

Ramonda's eyes widened in shock as she realized the implications of her husbands words. "You didn't… did you?" She asked, hoping her husband didn't do what she thought he did. "Please tell me you didn't leave him out there…"

She knew exactly who N'Jobu was, and what he did. Since N'Jobu was the younger son, he couldn't become king, so he joined the War Dogs and served Wakanda by traveling to the United States of America to ensure that all of their secrets were still being maintained from across the world.

Following a theft and attack on Wakanda by Ulysses Klaue which had left many dead, T'Chaka learned that it was his own brother, N'Jobu who had informed Klaue of Wakanda's weaknesses, assisting him in the operation.

When T'Chaka confronted his brother about the attack, knowing exactly what he had done, N'Jobu explained how he had seen the African Americans being oppressed and beaten down, which lead him to try to steal vibranium weapons to help them rise up, knowing that Wakanda would never support such an idea.

Sadly, this didn't justify spilling Wakandan blood. Although T'Chaka felt bad for his American brothers and sisters, his duty was to Wakanda, not every African in existence.

Seeing his brothers uncaring attitude, N'Jobu lashed out, almost killing a fellow War Dog, leading to his death at the Black Panthers claws. Of course, after killing his own brother, T'Chaka found out about his nephew, but…

T'Chaka nodded solemnly. "Yes... I left him there."

Ramonda's eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow and… disgust. "You left our nephew out there!"

T'Chaka's expression grew even more somber. "You and I both know that N'Jadaka's presence here could trigger a series of events that we may not be able to control." He defended his actions, even though he regretted them. "He has a claim to the throne and I killed his father. For the sake of our children, it was better to just leave him in America, where he could live a normal life."

Ramonda reached out and took her husband's hand, shaking her head in disapproval and disappointment. "No, it would have been better to at least try to raise him ourselves, and explain everything when the time cane. Now, we must tread carefully. For all we know, our nephew has been waiting his entire life to avenge his father."

T'Chaka's gaze met hers, a mixture of determination and uncertainty in his eyes. "We must make sure he doesn't enter Wakanda..."

"Umm…" Shuri spoke, pointing outside the tall widows, where her brothers ship could be seen, flying toward the palace. "That might not be possible. T'Challa said he was bringing N'Jadaka back with him…"

…

The tension in the air was palpable as T'Chaka, Ramonda, and Shuri rushed out of the palace, their gazes fixed on the Wakandan ship that had just landed. The door to the ship opened, and a figure emerged, flanked by Dora Milaje guards. It was T'Challa, the Black Panther, and beside him stood a figure that sent shivers down T'Chaka's spine.

Killmonger stepped out of the ship, his smirk as confident as ever. He had achieved his first objective, he was inside Wakanda, the nation that he believed had wronged him and his father. His eyes scanned the gathered crowd, and when they landed on T'Chaka, Ramonda, and Shuri, his smirk only grew wider. This was the beginning of his plan falling into place.

On the way to Wakanda, Killmonger had seized the opportunity to recount his version of history to T'Challa. He painted a tale of betrayal, of his father's murder at the hands of T'Chaka and his subsequent abandonment in a world he knew nothing about. The words had taken root in T'Challa's mind, sowing seeds of doubt and confusion.

As T'Challa and Killmonger emerged from the ship, the two men shared a charged moment of eye contact. T'Challa's expression was a mixture of curiosity and caution, while Killmonger's eyes sparkled with a combination of triumph and anticipation. This was the confrontation that he had been waiting years for.

With a deliberate step forward, T'Challa addressed his father directly, his voice carrying a weight that reverberated through the courtyard. "Father, is it true? Did you kill your own brother and abandon your nephew in America?"

T'Chaka's face contorted with a mixture of pain and guilt. He glanced at T'Challa, his heart heavy with the knowledge that the truth could shatter the foundation of trust between them. Slowly, he nodded, his voice laden with sorrow. "Yes, my son. It is true." He said as his gaze turned to his nephew. "But it's not as black and white as he would make it seem…"

A triumphant smirk tugged at the corners of Killmonger's lips, satisfaction evident in his posture. Everything was going according to plan. The revelation had rocked T'Challa to his core, and now he was ready to exploit the seeds of doubt that had been sown.

Killmonger's face morphed into an aggrieved and pitiful facade as he met T'Challa's gaze. "Don't be fooled, cousin. He killed my father, a prince of Wakanda, in cold blood. Not only that, but he left me there to find my fathers body. You can't trust a word out of his mouth. It's nothing but lies!"

As Killmonger began to recount the tale of his father's death and his own journey through life, everyone listened with a mixture of disbelief and curiosity. The palace staff and guards saw the pain in Killmonger's eyes, the scars that marked his journey, and some couldn't help but feel a pang of empathy. But empathy didn't mean acceptance.

Although he may be a prince, he hadn't stepped a single foot inside Wakanda until today. He wasn't one of them. Perhaps some of the other tribes would have more sympathy. After all, the Golden Tribe was full of T'Chaka's supporters.

The tour group, including Peter, Lily, MJ, and the Avengers Council members, observed the unfolding drama from a distance. Peter turned to the Ancient One with a knowing grin. "And so the Wakandan soap opera begins."

The Ancient One rolled her eyes playfully. "Even I must admit, there's a certain allure to the drama."

As Killmonger finished his Oscar winning performance, his gaze narrowed as he spotted Spider-Man and the Avengers out of the corner of his eye. This wasn't something he had accounted for in his plans. He hadn't expected outsiders, especially ones with such power and influence, to be present during this pivotal moment.

His mind raced, analyzing the situation. Could the presence of the Avengers aid his cause, or would it complicate matters further? It was a question that could only be answered as events continued to unfold. Because, if the Avengers have already allied with T'Chaka and his son, then his plans would need to change… drastically. But If they hadn't, then why shouldn't they ally with a fellow American?

'I never thought my American citizenship could actually help me…' Killmonger thought, hoping for the best.

A/N: 1727 words :)

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