REUNITED ~ STEVE ROGERS [4]

Chapter Six

The drums beat, and I felt them thud, thud, thud in my chest. My feet were bare, a rarity, and my ceremonial headpiece was tight against my jaw. I had forgotten how uncomfortable it was to wear. My crutch is gone, and instead I stamp my feet to the drum beat, the jarring pain running up my left side with each stomp. The pain is bearable, however, because my heart is light, and happy. The attendants had dosed me up with poison before we boarded, and Shuri had watched, her pretty face hard.

"PHAMBILI! PHAMBILI!" The shouting echoed around me. Onward. The boats were swift and steady as we headed to the edge of the falls. The singing continued, and although my voice was cracked, and the words fumbled on my tongue from lack of use, I still knew them, and I still sang them. My outfit was tight, and long pieces of purple fabric flowed from my arms and legs, restricting movement. My arm cased in black, bent at the elbow and throbbing swung awkwardly. I bent my knees, and when I heard my cue I joined my sister in the dancing. I could feel the heat of disapproval from many of the people, their hateful gaze unavoidable. The same ones who had protested my father's involvement with my birth parents were the same ones who protested my return, branding me a traitor, a coloniser, a liar.

The Dora Milaje thumped their spears to the floor of the boats, triggering the stop of the flow of water along the falls. It was magnificent as I watched the sonic booms travel though the waves, and when they reached the edge the water grew to a stop, revealing the harsh rocks underneath. I had chills up my spine, and I felt Shuri grab my hand as we danced, my feet fumbling as I raced to remember the steps. But the rhythm was enough to get my mind whirring and soon it was as easy as walking, only more painful, broken as I was.

I felt my heart soar, and amidst the stomping and the yelling, I felt happy for the first time, in a long time.

***

I felt immensely proud when T'Challa strode down from the ship, face and chest painted in traditional Wakandan war paint, muscles tense and face hard.

"I, Zuri son of Badu, give to you, Prince T'Challa, the Black Panther!" Zuri yelled, his voice older than I remember, face more lined. I stood next to Shuri in the front of the ledge, our mother standing just to the side. The leaders and representatives of the other tribes were also present, and I spotted Nakia giving me a smile from across the cliff face.

The whole cliff erupted in cheering, but I didn't join in. It was enough for me to see this. I had no need to verbalise it.

T'Challa knelt down in the water and swallowed. He was nervous, although he did well to hide it. Zuri approached him, a bowl in his old hands. He bent down and rested it against T'Challa's lips.

"The Prince will now have the power of the Black Panther stripped away!" The drums got louder, more intense as T'Challa sipped the liquid. His breathing grew heavy, and purple lines crossed over his dark skin, then disappeared. I rehearsed in my head what was to happen next.

"Praise the ancestors, praise the ancestors," we all chanted in Wakandan, the whole cliff, and I bounced my chest up and down to the beat of the drums. We were all one, a single people, our voices bonded together to the beat of our hearts. I hadn't realized how much I missed it.

"Victory in ritual combat, comes by yield or death. If any tribe wishes to put forth a warrior, I now offer a path to the throne." Zuri looked around, his old eyes catching mine for a second. He frowned. Did he think I was going to challenge my own brother? Even if I wanted to, I was in no shape to fight him, weakened as he was.

One by one, the tribes declined the path to the throne. The Merchant tribe, the Border Tribe, the River Tribe, and the Mining Tribe all refused to challenge the new King, not out of fear, but respect. The Udaku family had ruled for hundreds of years and had done so with honour and dignity. No one wanted to change that.