ACT ONE. CHAPTER X:
DEVIOUS ALTER EGO

TALOKAN, TALOKANIL TERRITORY.
2016, APRIL 13.

Namor was lost―hopelessly and utterly lost. The note he had left at Sade's bedside hammered at his mind, hoping to force him to take time to think about what he had done, or rather what he had written. His mind convinced itself that he had given in to the urgency of the moment, that in his hasty departure he had found words that had gone beyond his thoughts.

Yes, that was it. Words that had gone beyond his mind. Words that he violently repressed. Words that had not crumbled under the violence of his conscience, finding refuge in the warm cocoon of his subconscious. Words that had found their strength in the denied truth, attacking him before he knew it.

No. He didn't love her. He could not love her. He was unable to do so.

He only had love for his people.

El niño sin amor.

Namor clung to the dying words of the priest he had killed like a lifeline. A lifeline that separated his people from their enemies, all those on the surface, without distinction. A surface that caused unnecessary suffering and set ablaze the last shred of innocence that his mother had fought so long to preserve.

His people he would protect, he would provide them with everything they needed, he would take care of them until his last breath. His difference made him revered and worshipped, but also placed a burden on his shoulders to lead his people at a young age. And despite this, they still represented the first, the last, and the only connection to the one person who spoke his name―his real name.

Namor had brought the sun to his people. He would fight any war he could to protect them.

He would do anything.

But still.

But still.

But still...

She was not his people. She did not link him in any way to his mother. She did not worship him as they did. Even worse, she was on the opposite side of the line drawn by the words of his first victim―she was a surface dweller.

But still...

But still he would not hesitate to offer her Heaven if she so wished.

She did not worship him as they did. She didn't see him as a god like they did. She did not see him as K'uk'ulkan. Perhaps that was why she was so reluctant to address him like that. It was as if she wanted to maintain a freedom that puzzled him, that made him question his own position as a deity among his people.

No, she was not seeing K'uk'ulkan. She saw through the perennial dangerous spark of his gaze, which lost its intensity as it fell on her―the person his own mother saw. The person from whom he had learned the language of his ancestors, their history, their customs. The mother who had taught him how to take care of himself and his people when she would no longer be around.

I see you, she had said to him one day as they were lying on the sand, vulnerable beneath the dark night that had spread its starry mantle.

I see you.

But could he actually see himself?

Did he really see himself to be so alienated from his own feelings?

"K'uk'ulkan?"

The Talokanil king blinked meekly before turning to Attuma, who had joined his side. The man opened his mouth to begin speaking before his gaze fell on the wall that stood before him, a stunned look on his face. His eyes took in the new mural that offered a whole new meaning to the previous ones.

Attuma turned his attention back to his king for a moment before looking at the painting again. "Ba'ax leti'e'?" (Is that her?)

He himself did not know why he had asked the question when the brushstrokes left nothing to be confused about. Namor had paid close attention to the young woman's eyes, trying hard not to let any detail slip by.

"Ba'ax le yáakunaj?" (You love her?)

Namor widened his eyes slightly as he turned his head towards his advisor before frowning.

"Choko poolech, Attuma? Leti'e juntúul Ch'íij yéetel..." (Are you insane, Attuma? She's a human and...)

The rest of his sentence went unheeded, muffled by the ball that had just formed in the hollow of his throat. Attuma simply cracked a smile before approaching the wall.

"Yéetel kin chíimpol, K'uj. túun ku'uk' ulkan, wáaj Ba'axten a jach tenso u in acerqué ti' le boonilo' tu t'aana' túun?" (With all due respect, K'uk'ulkan, why are you so tensed that I approached this painting in particular then?)

The Talokanil king opened his mouth several times before closing it again, continuing to frown. Attuma's smile deepened as he pulled out one of the chairs to sit down, his gaze fixed on his leader.

"Ma' u taasik waye' wa ma' yu'ubike' mix ba'al. Ma' ti' e'asa'abij le bejo' u Talokan wa ma' yu'ubike' mix ba'al." (You wouldn't have brought her here if you didn't feel anything. You wouldn't have shown her the way to Talokan if you didn't feel anything.) he finally told him, almost feeling as if he was watching the wheels of his brain move before his eyes. "Ka ma' seen chéen bonik le yéetel óolal ti' le ti' jump'éelili' kuchil-pak'o' wa ma' u yaakunaj. (And you wouldn't have put so much effort accurately painting her on this very wall if you didn't love her.)

"Ma' a wojel-" (You don't know-)

"Le paktik bey beetik le bin yano'ob yéetel in kiik. Ka crear in, in woojel ba'ax ka wilik tuméen Ust ja'asik tuméen le ba'ala'." (You look at her like this guy does with my sister. And trust me, I know what I see because I love scaring him because of this.)

Attuma watched Namor stare at him for a moment before shifting his gaze to the drawing that had emerged from his hands on the wall, trapped in his thoughts again. Unlike Namora and the few who shared her views on the Wakandan princess, he actually appreciated her. He too had been of the same opinion as his friend at first, but he had seen the way Sade interacted with the Talokanils and their environment. A smile of wonder stretched her face every time she came here and was never clouded by anything else. But he had to admit to himself, he accepted her more when she beat him in a duel. He hadn't expected it, and despite the fact that he towered over her by a good head, she had managed to turn his own spear against him.

But above all, she made him happy.

He could persuade himself as much as he could, but everyone had noticed the change in his behaviour.

He was better.

BIRNIN ZANA, WAKANDA.
2016, APRIL 14.

"Erik Stevens. Graduated Annapolis age 19. MIT for grad school. Joined the SEALs and went to Afghanistan where he wrapped up confirmed kills like it was a video game. Started calling him Killmonger. He joined a JSOC ghost unit. Now these guys are serious. They will drop off the grid, so they can commit assassinations and take down governments."

"So basically the CIA and the American government?"

Everett Ross widened his eyes at Sade's sentence as her brother gave her a dark look that made her roll her eyes.

"Did he reveal anything about his identity?" T'Challa asked as he approached the screen showing a picture of Erik Stevens.

"He has a War Dog tattoo, but we have no record of him." pointed out Shuri, making her sister suddenly frown.

"A War Dog tattoo? He lived in the US, how would he..."

The young princess suddenly paused, looking at the grave face of her brother. As the dots began to connect in her brain, she noticed how he was trying to avoid her gaze, reinforcing her idea. It wasn't possible that this man had a ring so similar to their father's without having met someone who had the exact same one. And this person could only be their father's brother. He could've killed him and taken the ring with him as a trophy, but it wouldn't add up with the fact that he had a War Dog tattoo. Only Wakandans were aware of this.

Following her brother out of the laboratory and heading for the throne room, she grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop.

"T'Challa, tell me it's not true."

The new king looked at his sister for a moment as he clenched his jaw, looking everywhere but at her eyes. He knew she was going to make the connection sooner or later, but he had hoped he wouldn't be the one to have to confirm her doubts.

"Tell you what?"

"Don't play that game with me T'Challa. This man is carrying around a ring that looks way too much like Baba's. And now he's got a fucking War Dog tattoo?"

"Imani-"

"N'Jobu. That was his name. Dad's little brother. We never saw him."

T'Challa bit the inside of his cheeks with a sigh. "Yes."

His simple confirmation made her drop his arm in shock.

I have a fucking cousin.

"You don't have to worry. Nothing's going to-" he tried to reassure her, placing both hands on her shoulder.

"Worry? T'Challa, do you really think he's here on a courtesy visit?" she asked, the urgency beginning to show in her voice. "If he's here it's certainly not to make up for lost time or have sleepovers with us. You heard Ross, he was in the army."

"Imani, you're imagining things."

"He grew up in the States, T'Challa." she finally told him, concern transpiring from her furrowed brows. "He didn't grow up in the same environment as we did. He grew up in a country that only loves him every other day and exploits him. And it's because of Baba. So do you seriously think he came just to live in Wakanda?"

Her brother looked at her for a moment, her words seeming to have resonated with him as he pursed his lips.

"We shall see."

BIRNIN ZANA, WAKANDA.
2016, APRIL 14.

"Is this man Wakandan or not?"

"Tell us what is going on."

Sade, standing on the other side of the throne, exchanged a quick glance with Shuri before her eyes fell on the large door that had just opened. The hand she had placed on her brother's shoulder tightened slightly at the sight of W'Kabi standing beside Killmonger. Removing her hand, she detailed the newcomer with a blank expression, noting the look he was giving around him.

Full of resentment.

"Speak."

"Speak." repeated W'Kabi in English, causing the young princess to roll her eyes as she couldn't hide her irritation with him at this very moment.

Your days are so miserable that you've become a translator?

"I'm standing in your house serving justice to a man who stole your vibranium and murdered your people," he finally said with a touch of insolence in his voice. "Justice your king could not deliver."

Come again?

T'Challa rose from his seat at his words, Okoye following as the Dora Milaje took their places. She couldn't hear what they were saying from where she was, but his last sentence made her blood run cold.

You should have listened to me.

"I want the throne."

The entire room scoffed at his answer, some laughter rising even among the Elders, including the leader of the Mining Tribe who rose from her seat.

"My goodness."

"Y'all sittin' up here comfortable. Must feel good." he added, glancing behind T'Challa. "There's about two billion people over the world that looks like us." Sade bit her tongue, looking away as he glanced at her, seeing exactly where he was going with this. "But their lives are a lot harder. But Wakanda has the tools to liberate 'em all."

"And what tools are those?"

"Vibranium. Your weapons."

"Our weapons will not be used to wage war on the world. It is not our way to be judge, jury and executioner for people who are not our own."

In spite of herself, the young woman frowned slightly at T'Challa's sentence, drawing the attention of her mother who shook her head gently. This way of thinking was the reason why so many things continued to happen with total impunity.

Every man for himself, God for all was certainly not the way in which the condition of many communities would change.

"Not your own?" repeated Killmonger disdainfully. "But didn't life start right here on this continent? So ain't all people your people?"

"I am not king of all people. I am king of Wakanda. And it is my responsibility to make sure our people are safe, and that vibranium does not fall into the hands of a person like you."

Erik Stevens hummed a little as Ramonda called out to T'Challa and stood up.

"Son, we have entertained this charlatan for too long. Reject his request."

Sade glanced at her mother before returning her gaze to Killmonger, apprehensive. She knew what was coming, and the tension that was only mounting was starting to creep up on her.

"Oh, I ain't requesting nothing. Ask who I am."

"You're Erik Stevens." Shuri suddenly spoke up as she approached slightly. "An American black operative. A mercenary nicknamed Killmonger. That's who you are."

If only.

"That's not my name, Princess," he replied, a small sneer on his lips. "Ask me, King."

"No."

"Ask me."

The young princess saw her brother wanting to retort before turning his back on their cousin, motioning to the nearby Dora Milaje. "Take him away."

Watching him go, she closed her eyes violently as she saw the River Tribe leader's hand flutter.

"Who are you?"

The man never shuts his damn mouth. Why is it always the old folks who cause trouble?

"I am N'Jadaka, son of Prince N'Jobu."

Astonishment shook the room as the Elders stood up, looking at each other.

"Son of N'Jobu?"

"I found my daddy with Panther claws in his chest. You ain't the son of a King, you're the son of a murderer!"

He killed him?

Wide-eyed, she glanced at T'Challa, where she found only regret on his face.

"You're lying! Lies!" suddenly shouted the Queen Mother, immediately contradicted by W'Kabi.

"I'm afrait not, Queen Mother." he said, producing Killmonger's gold necklace ring, holding it up for everyone to see.

Ramonda, stunned, reached out to receive the object, pain painted on her face.

Some friend you are.

"The descendant of N'Jobu."

No joke.

"Hey auntie."

I gotta admit, if he wasn't wrecking everything I could've liked him. It's like I'm looking at a more radicalised version of myself.

"I'm exercising my blood right to challenge the mantles of King and Black Panther."

A heavy silence fell over the room as all eyes focused on T'Challa who took a long look at W'Kabi before turning his attention to his mother who had approached him.

"Do not do this T'Challa."

"As the son of N'Jobu, he is within his rights," said the Border Tribe Elder.

They really are a bunch of assholes in this tribe.

"He has no rights here!"

"The challenge will take weeks to prepare!"

Is that the only thing on your mind, seriously?

Sade, seeing her brother return to the throne, leaned forward slightly so that he could hear her.

"Are you going to do it?"

He looked down at the chain he'd retrieved as he exhaled slightly.

"Do I have a choice?" he asked before looking up at her. "What would you have done?"

The young princess widened her eyes slightly at his question. It was the first time he had asked her opinion on something like this and to be honest, he had caught her off guard. Nonetheless, he managed to read in her gaze that the situation had no other outcome but to fight, lightly squeezing the hand she had placed on his shoulder before looking up at N'Jadaka.

"I accept your challenge."

AUTHOR'S NOTE

shitty chapter, happy two months to war of tides, and since my day couldn't have gone any better i have covid 🤠 i literally was supposed to publish two chapters today but everything is hurting me it's like i'm gonna die, fuck sake. i literally dodged this virus during the whole pandemic and i just had to happen today, and before nye, i'm so done- i've already finished the next chapter "the queen that never was" but i still have to proofread it so tomorrow if i'm feeling a little better than right now. and kinda emotional that chapter ten got released on what would've been stan lee's 100th birthday 🥹 i wanted to make an attuma meme so bad but ugh, no memes today, my brain is freezed sorry :(
take care of you, loves ❤️

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