Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to Marvel.

Chapter: 14: Rekindling

It is a glorious morning in Kenya as birds chirp their merry melodies. The sun warms Storm as she strolls the terrace, overseeing the awakening of her kingdom as it bustles to life. Her journey has been a strange one. First, she was an orphan, then a thief, now and forevermore an X-Men. Finally, she has reclaimed her rightful place as queen of her tribe.

She never thought to embrace her royal heritage. She only considered it when the village elders requested her and the X-Men's assistance when an ancient evil forest spirit awoke…but that's a story for another day.

Instead of returning to the states, Storm stayed, to help rebuild the territory after the devastation. That was a couple of years ago, and the kingdom has flourished under her command. Though she misses her X-Men comrades she knows her place, for the time being, is with her tribe.

"Storm!" Screams a familiar voice.

Storm turns to see Kofi, her young ward of fifteen years of age. She smiles as she recalls how they met. A year ago, she was shopping at the markets when someone attempted to lift her coin purse. Thanks to her disguise, which consisted of a head wrap and a face veil. Kofi didn't recognize her as the fierce queen of the kingdom.

The moment she felt the amateur attempted thievery, she halted his action. Discarding her disguise to reveal her identity, to which Kofi's eyes widened to the size of saucers.

After a proper scolding, she questioned his need to steal. It was then she discovered that they shared a similar history. Kofi, an orphan, was homeless, the same as her when she was younger. Storm knowing that he only wished to survive, invited him to the palace as her ward.

Kofi has been with her ever since and has proven to be invaluable. Not only is he clever, but he has become someone she has come to trust. At times, Storm must remind him that his stay isn't conditional and that he has no need to prove anything to her, but he always tries to demonstrate his usefulness despite her words.

"Storm!" Kofi says. He approaches out of breath.

"Kofi, be at ease. What is it?" Storm questions.

"King T'Challa, request to meet with you."

T'Challa, The Black Panther?

"For what reason?"

"Only it is a matter of the survival of all of Africa and perhaps the world!"

Storm mulls over his words. Kofi is excited by the communication, but Storm isn't too sure about granting T'Challa's request. She hasn't seen T'Challa since they were young. That, and the bad blood between the two countries is legendary. Though she shouldn't fault T'Challa for his father's indifference when her tribe beseeched Wakanda's help to maintain order, she cannot help but think the same callous blood flows within his veins.

Then, her tribe fragmented, not the united powerhouse they are today. Is it only because she leads them that Wakanda's crowned King has taken notice? Her powers aren't something she uses recklessly, and she will not lend her abilities for his cryptic mission.

As her thoughts raced with the reasonings for his need to meet with her, Kofi asks.

"So, will you meet with him?"

The impatience of youth, Storm thinks. She ruffles his hair of locks as she passes by him to go inside.

"You may reply if he can be here within the hour, I will honor his request."

"Just an hour? What if he isn't available?" Kofi questions, with raised brows.

"Well, then I guess it isn't as grave as he stated."

As she walks to her throne room, she contemplates how different her life might have been if wars hadn't ravished her homeland. Her parents would not have fled Kenya, to Harlem. Therefore, they might have lived a more peaceful life. Storm would have assumed her role as queen sooner. Then again, all things come together for the greater good. If events didn't play out the way they had, she might not have become an X-Men; and she cannot negate all the good she did with them.

Then, there's the nagging thought of once being T'Challa's potential bride. However, the meeting cannot be for that reason, can it? Being a part of two superhero factions, it is surprising they haven't crossed paths. However, the Avengers usually only gathered whenever the world is under threat. Whereas the X-Men mostly remain together. The sense of community assists in their goals to teach young mutants and obtain equality for their kind.

Being born a mutant is far different than just putting on a suit. Storm lives within her skin 24/7, and the X-Men in that regard is more than a faction; they're family. Deciding it is best to rest her mind and not fret over all the what-ifs. Sooner than later, she will discover his truth, but one thing is for sure. If he fails to make his case, or if the matter isn't in Kenya's best interest. Then, as his father had done many years ago, she will ignore his plight.

"King T'Challa," a member of the Dora Milaje addresses.

"Speak," T'Challa replies.

"Queen Munroe agreed to meet with you."

"Very well. Please prepare the aircraft."

"As you wish, your highness," the member states. She crosses her arms over her chest and bows before she hurries to arrange transportation.

T'Challa is anxious about the meeting. He can only hope he can convince her to join his quest. With his allies dispersed in various locations, he wonders if they can gather in time for the foreseeable battle. Thankfully, Ashtyn, along with his mother and Shuri, has remained by his side, keeping him grounded and sound of mind.

The time restraint of only an hour leaves little time for dallying or mental preparation. He worries she will poorly receive him, considering their countries' troubled past. For this reason, he'll attend the meeting without Ashtyn. She does not want to admit it, but Ashtyn is exhausted. For the sake of her unborn child, and his blooded cousin's sanity, he orders Ashtyn to stay behind and rest. Though she initially resists, she eventually agrees to let him go alone.

Time being of the essence, T'Challa marches to board the aircraft. Dora Milaje implores to accompany him, but he denies their request. He must come to her on his own, no spectacle like his father might have done. His humble entrance will hopefully convey the difference between him and his father. After a short flight, T'Challa arrives without a minute to spare. To his surprise, a young man greets him warmly, on the plains of Kenya's territory; accompanied by two stern-looking guards.

"Greetings, King T'Challa," he says, as he bows deeply. "I am Kofi, I will escort you to Storm…I mean, Queen Munroe."

T'Challa smiles, then answers, "Thank you, young master. I am forever grateful for your assistance."

Kofi sports a bright smile, before leading the way to the palace. T'Challa cannot help but think how Kofi would get along well with Shuri. They walk the grassy plains until they come to the grand courtyard. The palace is massive and every bit as impressive as his own.

They approach the entrance hall where two guards man their post. Once they are in the vicinity, the guards open the doors. Kofi enters the throne room first, to announce T'Challa's arrival. T'Challa's view of the queen, momentarily hindered by Kofi. However, when he steps aside, her beauty threatens to overwhelm him.

T'Challa's eyes immediately rest on Storm's. He inhales but somehow has forgotten how to exhale. She is glorious beyond all measures. She stands. Her height is taller than most women. Storm's white mane waterfalls to her thin waistline, making her more radiant. Her silver bodice only draws his eyes to her ample frame, powerful but feminine. As she descends the stairs her toned muscles flex with each graceful stride, radiating the strength she possesses. She is utterly beautiful. How has she gone unnoticed by him?

T'Challa steps towards her, his feet unable to stay planted. He must draw closer to her. He quickens his steps to meet her before she could reach the terminus of her journey, causing them to meet midway on the stairwell. Feeling bolder than he ought to, he grabs her hand, tenderly he kisses it. Her breath hitches as he does.

"Queen Munroe, I am greatly humbled, by your gracious acceptance of my request," T'Challa says. Their eyes meet and hold the connection.

"The great King of Wakanda bows to the Queen of a lesser tribe?" She says in a teasing tone.

He straightens to meet her questionable glare.

"Lesser in what way? We are both children of Africa. Is it not I who pleads for your assistance? Could it be, that it is I who is lesser than you? Must I admit, how I feel inferior as I now stand in your grace."

A blush stains her cheeks, and T'Challa smirks. A predatory urge begins to rise within him at the sight of her innocence. He entertains all the other actions he could do to garner a similar response. Though, he considers only a scoundrel, would desire such things. He finds the notion of acting on his sinful impulses enthralling.

Their eyes connect, time and space cease, biding them their moment to become reacquainted. T'Challa ponders if she is a sorcerer because the longer he stares the more captivated he becomes.

"Queen Munroe?" Kofi asks.

His words are intruding. Shattering the glamour of an era where urgent matters aren't prevalent. Storm removes her hand from T'Challa's to his dismay. Nevertheless, it would be ill-manner to cause a ruckus, but for the first time in a long while, T'Challa wants to embrace his rambunctious side if only for her.

"I'm sorry, what did you ask?" Storm replies.

"Do you wish for me to stay?" Kofi asks. His voice is just above a whisper.

Storm's face quickly becomes a mask, shielding any signs of emotion. She insists that there's no need for privacy. She turns and ascends the steps quickly. The physical distancing is one thing, but her withholding her feelings from him is more than he can tolerate, as he feels a tightening in his chest immediately following her careless demeanor.

T'Challa takes a step towards her but forces himself to stop. Kingdom matters are far more important than his libido and his pride. However, he promises himself she will not distance herself forever, she mustn't.

"Speak regarding your urgent need to meet with me," Storm states.

"A hostile threat of the likes we have never seen is harboring within our territories. Soon, I expect an attack that will be better subdued if we were to join forces."

"A hostile threat? Aren't you accustomed to safeguarding your borders against such threats? You are now the Black Panther."

"Indeed, I am, but this one you may agree is different. Only an overconfident fool would assume success against such foes. If your highness will permit, I would like to show you video footage of the adversaries I speak of."

"You may."

T'Challa ascends the stairway. Each step forward he feels the vise grip around his heart ease as if she's the antidote to his pain. He stands before her, as she sits on her throne, Storm must look upward to keep their eyes level. T'Challa leans towards her, holding his wrist communicator to her, and presses the keys to replay the events of Nakia attacking them in the lab. Storm watches with wide eyes as she sees a diabolic Nakia taking on Erik, Ashtyn, Shuri, and himself. If not for Shuri's quick thinking to use her energy bands to subdue Nakia, they might have not made it out alive.

Storm is quiet for a long while, before she finally inquires, "Why should I be bothered by your family squabbles? Are you not engaged to Nakia?"

"We are no long betrothed," T'Challa answers.

Storm tilts her head, considering his words. "Truly?"

A lump begins to form within his throat. He should tell her about Ashtyn, but he just cannot. There was a glint in her eyes when she questioned his truthfulness. It may be his own neediness but what if she is happy, he isn't engaged.

"Yes, truly," he answers.

The lied came out effortlessly. Yet, it wasn't a lie because his current engagement is a sham.

Damn, even he was beginning to become confused.

Storm eyed him for a long while before nodding her head. "Very well, but still I am not moved to assist."

"May I ask why not?"

"You are dealing with one being, though supernatural, I have faith you can manage this matter on your own. Why should I lend resources and my people to such an internal issue for Wakanda's sake?"

"Because the threat they pose will not remain isolated within Wakanda. Once we are gone this fight will find its way to your kingdom."

"What intel leads you to believe that?" Storm counters.

"I may not know this creature who is influencing Nakia, but I know Nakia. She is ambitious. With this unnatural power growing inside her, she will only continue to grow in power and in lust for more of it. Are you willing to wager your kingdom and the safety of your people on the notion that I might be wrong?"

"Years ago, your father refused his aid in our efforts to maintain order within our country. Civil war ripped us apart, our country fell into disarray. Yet, Wakanda thrived, who is to say that the reverse will not happen if Wakanda was to fall?" Storm states.

Her coarse words chill him because she is right. There is a chance that they would come out of this unscathed, but if there's one thing T'Challa knows of Storm is that she's a champion of justice and despite herself, she cannot ignore anyone in need.

Kneeling before her, T'Challa makes one final plead for her assistance.

"On behalf of my father and Wakanda, I humbly beg for your forgiveness regarding our transgressions against you and your people. Please, accept my personal pledge of atonement for his actions. Even if it takes the remainder of my days, I will do whatever you ask of me to make amends."

"Whatever I ask?" Storm questions.

T'Challa nods, his eyes fixed to the ground as he remains kneeling before her.

"What if I tell you to grovel at my feet for an undetermined amount of time, what then?" Storm asks with a smirk.

He lifts his gaze and stares at her, his eyes piercing and sultry. Any hint of amusement ends.

"If groveling is what you will have me do, then I will. However, I am willing to do far more than that if you desire."

Again, Storm blushes.

Never has he been so bold with his words or as forthcoming about his yearnings as he is with her. With Nakia, he had a nervous energy, but with Storm, any insecurities are silence by his raging urges, that he suspects she can quench.

It is Storm who breaks their eye contact. Glancing away, as if to refocus her thoughts.

"Please return to your kingdom, I will consider your request," Storm commands.

"You will not give me your answer now?"

"By the dawn, you will know my answer. Until then, I bid you farewell," Storm says.

She stands, T'Challa mimics her stance. Now, for the first time, they stand on leveled ground. T'Challa is taller than her, a mere two inches. Just enough for her chin to lift upwards, to align with his lips for a kiss. He wouldn't have to crouch, not with her. No, all it would take is for him to wrap his arms around her small waist and press her firmly against himself.

It is then, T'Challa remembers his reason for coming to her. No, it wasn't to seduce her but to gain her aid. He steps back, and if he isn't mistaken; she looks hurt by his disaffection, but he banishes the thought from his mind.

T'Challa doesn't want to wait for a response, but he understands her position. He is asking her to go to war. It is only natural for any leader to consider the pros and cons of committing to such a cause. He bows to her, momentarily he considers kissing her hand again, but he second-guesses himself. He has been too forward with her and should consider his advances unwelcomed.

He turns to walk away, but Storm halts him, by a gentle touch gripping his upper arm.

He looks at Storm expectedly, she offers a coy smile.

"Will you not leave me as warmly as you greeted me?" She asks.

"Pardon?"

"You bowed and…"

T'Challa is the one usually dumbfounded, in moments such as these. Yet, he's the one for once not fumbling with his words or his actions. He takes her hand into his. His thumb caresses her knuckles, fixating his eyes on hers he kisses the back of her hand. Her breaths shallow as he does, and he is certain that she feels the electricity between them.

"My lady, I will impatiently await your decision," T'Challa states with a smirk.

"Your patience might be rewarded," she answers, with a playful tone.

"How so?" T'Challa teases.

To which she only smiles, before bidding him farewell.

With his words lingering in the air, he turns to leave the throne room without a glance back. Kofi keeps pace beside him, trying desperately to match his gait. T'Challa is back at his hovercraft in no time at all.

"King T'Challa?" Kofi asks.

"Yes, young master?" T'Challa replies.

"Do you really fear this creature?"

"I would be foolish not to."

"But you are the Black Panther!"

T'Challa laughs, then says, "Indeed, I am. However, even the Black Panther needs help every now and then."

"Don't worry. I will speak to the queen on your behalf. She always does the right thing."

"I am appreciative of your support. Until next time, Kofi."

T'Challa boards the aircraft. Soon, he's on his way home, but a part of him remains behind. He can only hope she will see things his way. Either way, T'Challa will not forget her, and he would be damned if she forgets him.


W'Kabi's condition has stabilized, thanks to the superior medical care of Wakanda's wonderful resources. Anywhere else in the world and W'Kabi's prognosis would have been terminal, but not here. This is yet another reminder of why Erik fights to defend Wakanda. With Ashtyn's pending delivery it will provide him peace of mind to know that she will have the best medical care available in the world. So, yeah, his family's safety is worth the anguish of separation.

Erik busies himself by leading a small team to the cave where Nakia and her mysterious friend sprung from. They had to take a hovercraft to reach the location but found the entrance behind thick shrubs. Once inside it was like any other cave. The men spread out in search of anything that might help them to understand their adversaries.

When nothing catches his eye, Erik lets out a huff of frustration. He kicks at a rock on the ground, then a tiny slither of a red stone reveals itself through the dirt. Erik bends down and dusts away the dirt to reveal the gem. Holding the stone within his grasp he marvels as the gem radiates with a pulse of energy, surging with power within his hands. He pockets it, suspecting someone in the village will know what it is.

After completing a thorough investigation of the cave, they leave. Erik appoints a team to monitor the area. However, it will be a futile effort, due to the hideout's whereabout exposure. Back at the village. Erik goes to see W'Kabi, Okoye hasn't left his side since her arrival that morning. Erik refusing to become an unwelcome third wheel graciously gave the couple their alone time, but now he needs answers.

With crude abandonment, he knocks once onto W'Kabi's villa's door before barging in. Okoye jumps up as if she were doing something naughty. She hurries to smooth out her clothing, while W'Kabi shields himself with the duvet. Erik smirks, yes it was a bit of a hater move to storm in as he did, but hell he hasn't had any loving and the jackass in him finds pleasure in their torment. He half-expected Okoye to lash out at him, but she doesn't. Okoye gives a small smile, apparently; Erik being there for W'Kabi has softened her heart towards him. Though they still are not friends as least they are at ease with each other.

"I found something of interest back at their lair," Erik states.

"What is it?" W'Kabi asks. He props himself upright, resting his back onto the headboard with Okoye's support.

"A stone, or a gem of sorts. I'm not sure," Erik says.

He takes the stone out of his pocket and shows them. W'Kabi takes it into his hands. With a frown, he asks, "You say you got this from the cave that she came out of?"

Erik nods.

"This is an entrapment stone. I have only read about them in books. None are said to exist."

"Well, apparently this one does. Entrapment stone, huh? I'm guessing the name refers to its abilities to imprison."

"Exactly, only a high-ranking priest can wield this weapon."

"Weapon?"

"Yes, imagine a prison that is impossible to escape. This doesn't merely trap you but transports you to another dimension, a realm where the horrors of this world are magnified. However, most fear using the enchantment, it is rumored that whoever desires the entrap must make a great sacrifice."

"What sort of sacrifice?" Erik asks.

"The lore doesn't specify that part."

Erik sighs, "Our people have more mumble-jumble superstition to last a lifetime. Can this gem help us or not to draw out our enemies?"

"If this gem housed the cryptic fiend, it is possible we can use it to track him. However, we will need someone with the knowledge to do so."

"Zoya, the priestess," Okoye offers. "She is every bit as gifted as Zuri."

"Then I will take it to her," Erik suggests.

"Is that wise?" Okoye asks. "In light of the recent engagement."

Erik huffs, she is right. How would it look for him to go barging in when his ex-wife is marrying his cousin? He cannot forget his role as the bitter ex, who has chosen exile.

"Then, I will make my presence a brief stay, and go at night."

"Do you really think you can sneak into a heavily guarded palace unnoticed?" Okoye questions.

But there's a slight upturn of the corners of her mouth. As if, she welcomed the challenge of him bypassing her security measures.

"Let's just say, after tonight you are going to need to step your game up," Erik says with a smirk.

At night, Erik approaches the Wakanda palace wearing all black. He creeps up to the hedge and dives behind them. He could have called ahead, but after the challenge issued to him by Okoye, he had to find out if he could infiltrate the palace. Being on the inside he knows of its weak point through the garden. The conservatory's dim lighting is perfect for cover. Also, it is where Timber resides, the force field is disabled, to allow her free roam.

No one in their right mind would try this way to enter the palace, but Erik has always been a bit off. He approaches cautiously, the last thing he needs is to startle the large cat. One foot onto her territory and he hears a low growl.

"Easy, baby girl. It's just daddy," Erik coos.

She growls louder in response. Erik pauses. Timber emerges from the shadows, her luminous eyes reflect the moonlight.

"See, it is just me."

Once acknowledgment seeps in, she purrs and rolls over. Erik chuckles, the big softy is like putty in his hands as he begins to stroke her fur.

"Where's mommy sweetheart?" Erik murmurs. Timber only purrs in response. "No worries. I'll find her. Sleep well."

When Erik stops stroking her to stand, Timber grumbles but soon takes up licking her fur. Entering through the patio doors, he gains entry. The next obstacle will be the Dora Milaje, who patrols the palace day and night. However, knowing their routes he easily evades them. He should go to T'Challa, or even skip him and go to Zoya, but he must see Ashtyn. To be this close and not to see her is impossible.

He sneaks around the corridors of the palace until he's at their once shared bedchamber. He opens the door, there resting is Ashtyn, he approaches. Her soft breaths make little noise as he sits on the edge of the mattress. He watches her, her eyes rapidly move as a faint smile grows upon her full lips.

He wonders if it is him, of whom she is dreaming of in the solitude of the night. He gently touches her thigh through the thin sheet. She rouses before repositioning to her side. Her eyes flutters open briefly, then closes; only to shoot back open.

"Hello, baby," Erik greets.

Ashtyn cannot believe her eyes. Is she still dreaming? Impossible, only Erik's presence can elicit her body's sensuality. Goosebumps begin to sprout upon her skin, her nipples become hard as diamonds. While the stroke of his palm on her thigh makes her wet with desire. This is real, he is here! She sits up and wraps her arms around his neck. She kisses his cheeks repeatedly as she cries tears of joy.

"Whoa, baby! Did you miss me?" Erik teases.

However, he damn well knows the answer. She has been as strong as she could, but with him, back in her life, she cannot contain her emotions. He kisses her back. Gently, as if she is a precious doll made of fragile porcelain. However, this tenderness will not last. This much is certain. They have been apart for far too long and need each other. He grabs the nape of her neck, to expose the delicate column of her neck.

His tongue glides upwards until he reaches her ear. His teeth nipples her lobe before he whispers into her ear.

"How badly have you missed me?"

"So, badly. You have no idea," Ashtyn answers.

Erik's hand cups her right breast. His thumb lazily strums her tight teat.

"Fuck, you're as hard as I am," He hisses into her ear. His warm breath sends shivers down her spine.

Licking her lips she asks, "May I touch you?"

When he nods. Her hand lifts to touch his chest. Then, glides downwards, caressing his sculpted torso, before reaching his tone stomach. He releases a breath, and she can feel his body shudder beneath her touch. How special is she, to wield such power over him? To think once she'd run from him and now, she cannot live properly without him.

With one hand, she undoes the button to his pants and slowly unzipped his fly. He continues to kiss her, his tongue presses deeper into her mouth as he does. She moans, missing their connection, realizing she was mournful for the loss of his touch. His erection springs out of his pants. She grips his manhood, her fingertips caress him, noting every protruding vein that is throbbing for relief.

"Perhaps, we shouldn't go further. We are role-playing as disgruntle former lovers," She suggests.

Erik pulls away from her, ending their kiss. His stare is undeniably frightening, but in a way that makes Ashtyn hot and lustful.

"Now, isn't the time to poke the beast. I'm on the edge of my control, Ashtyn."

His warning is stern, but it only entices Ashtyn.

"Aren't you the one who always says we should commit to our given roles; we wouldn't want to compromise your principles."

Erik sneers is as wicked as his actions. With little effort, he rips the sheet off her and tosses it aside. His lustful gaze rakes over her body, she's wearing a sheer silk nighty, that clings to her curvy form. Lifting her nightgown, he then pulls her panties down, ridding himself of the barrier.

The cool air chills her, she bites back her moan in anticipation for his next move. He chuckles, knowing how he is now the one in control. He stands and then disrobes. His body is aglow beneath the moon's rays. Ashtyn's eyes greedily take in the sight of him. He grips himself, slowly stroking his erected member in preparation.

"You don't want to compromise my principles, huh?" He mocks. "The only compromising to be had will be your pussy giving way to my dick."

His words strike her to the core. Stripping her resistance, as if there was any, to begin with. Erik's eyes fall to her lower half, he wolf-whistle, before saying with a devilish grin, "Do you know how good I'm about to make you feel?"

He climbed onto the bed. Ashtyn, on her back, draws her legs up, her knees pressed together.

Erik tsks, "Open your legs. Let me see what belongs to me alone."

His callus hands, rest on top of her knees before he dips his fingers between them and pries her legs open. He slides his hand down her inner thighs until his fingertips are at her core. He dips one finger in, then two. Ashtyn hisses in pleasure.

"Erik!" She whimpers.

"I know baby, damn-it I know what you need," he whispers. "I can't wait any longer. Let me have you."

Widening her legs, he wedges himself between. His hardened member pokes at her entry, she tilts her hips, wanting him inside her.

"Beg for it."

"What?" Ashtyn questions in a haze.

"You heard me beg for it."

"P-please?"

"No, not good enough. Tell me how much you want this dick, baby."

"I want it so bad it hurts. Please, make the ache go away."

"You still want me?"

Ashtyn wraps her legs around his waist. "Always."

"Girl…," he hisses. Then buries himself inside her to the hilt. "Damn, baby you kept it this wet for me."

Ashtyn couldn't verbalize, all she could do is moan. Enjoying her man giving himself over to her. The deeper he when the more she cried out.

"You like it don't you, baby. When I'm inside you. Giving you all of me." He stretches her legs far apart to drive himself deeper with each thrust. Ashtyn digs her nails into his back. Erik's head falls back, grunting as he continues his sensual strokes.

The sex is as good as she remembers, and even more satisfying than she dreamed. Ashtyn screams his name as her walls squeeze the ever-loving hell out of him. Holding each other they rocked in rhythm as they cruise the wave of ecstasy.

"I missed you," Ashtyn confesses.

Her spirit is broken by their lovemaking, and their separation. She waits to hear his response.

Please tell me you missed me too. She mentally pleads.

For a moment, she thinks he will not. Ashtyn knows he still struggles with expressing his emotions. So many years he spent forced to rely on only himself. Love is still so new for him. Nevertheless, Ashtyn will remain patient; refusing to rush him in any way.

However, just when all hope seems lost, he says, "I've never been anywhere for any length of time to call any place home. Never really cared. Being unattached has been a blessing in my field. The thought of something anchoring me actually was something I feared, but with you…"

"With me, what?"

"Ashtyn, you are my anchor, my home. The only thing that keeps me going is the idea that I am doing all this for our family," he admits.

He touches her still flat stomach. Ashtyn can hardly wait until she starts to show. The small being who grows inside her is special, and theirs. That's why no matter the sacrifices they had or will have to make, they will gladly endure them. Because home is worth fighting and dying for.

Though the temptation to make love all night long is strong. Ashtyn insists to know why he has come. He rolls out of bed and grabs his pants off the floor, reaching inside he pulls out a red gem. He explains where he found it, he hopes to use it to track Nakia and her hidden friend.

If they can find them, it would be for the best. Perhaps, waiting for them to come to them isn't their only option? They agreed to get dress and go to T'Challa first, then to Zoya. Ashtyn feels empowered engaging in initiative-talking; or is it Erik's confident nature that makes her feel like nothing can touch them? Either way, she would support his theory, anything if it meant to end their separation.


Nakia awakes, in hers and Mephisto's shared cabin. Her body still tingles from the surge of energy delivered to her by Mephisto. She can't believe he had the nerve to render her unconscious. Yes, she was about to lose her shit, but wouldn't anybody? Of all the people T'Challa could make to be his bride he chose Killmonger's tainted bride? Nakia cannot help but replay every encounter, every side-glance the two ever had. She had convinced herself she was mad with envy, but now she knows her feelings were valid.

The bitter sting of betrayal rips at her heart. How could T'Challa insult her in this matter? Yes, she has sinfully fantasized about others during their courtship and even pretended to be blind to T'Challa's affections. However, she'd committed to the idea of being his, but then his cousin's return had changed things, had changed him. Nakia always thought of herself to be the untraditional one, but now T'Challa has changed everything. Pardoning Killmonger, his wife, and W'Kabi's actions was her first cause for alarm.

King T'Chaka would've killed them for treason, but T'Challa didn't, and what was worst he restored Killmonger as a recognized member of the imperial family. Now, just when Nakia hoped the madness has ended he deals one last blow by taking Erik's whore queen as his bride. With an enthusiastic grunt, Nakia picks up a nearby vase and throws it against the wall.

The vase shatters into pieces, she regards its remnants. Suddenly, a pair of black boots come into view, stepping onto the fragmented shards, crushing them beneath its weight. Her eyes drift upwards until she sees his face, but their eyes do not meet. Nakia sharply turns her head, she cannot bear to look at him. He promised her freedom but has only restricted her more than her traditional upbringing ever had.

"Nakia," Mephisto calls to her.

"Leave me," Nakia huffs.

"Please look at me."

Nakia's heart dropped at the tone of his voice. He sounds gentle, too kind for him. The sincerity within his voice melts her resolve and she feels compelled to obey him. Turning to face him, his red eyes grow less menacing with each passing day.

For the first time, since ever, he seems uncertain.

"What would it take to make you happy?"

Nakia is quiet for a moment before she straightens to full height. A sinister smile creeps across her face, and she proudly states. "Let's rip everything that T'Challa holds dear. Starting with his whore bride! Once I and done with her, we will take Wakanda and rule it."

Mephisto mirrors her wicked smile, before saying, "Agreed, if that is what your heart desires, then I shall oblige. Let's show them what true fear is."

A/N: Thank you for reading this story! I truly appreciate you all. So sorry for the extremely long wait in between updates. Hopefully, you all are having a great summer. Blessings, Concrete Lily.