The council meets to deliberate and the truth comes out.
-:- Rajvahi -:- Accompaniment: Tugrul by Ochre Rajvahi’s sleep is troubled the final night of the Bast Festival. She spends more of the night tossing and turning than in restful sleep. The events of the day keep replaying in her mind. It’s been decades since she experienced such panicked confusion around her. The last time precluded the deaths of more Wakandans in a single day than had been recorded in generations. The council of elders meet early in the morning, only hours after the ritual is complete and a vision from Bast has been confirmed by the priests. None of the other elders appear as if they had gotten much rest either, yet what strikes Rajvahi first, upon entering the throne room, is the king’s face. Standing at one of the room’s tall, wide windows, the early morning light’s shadow almost masks the change. That is, until he steps closer to the raised dais of the throne, then the change is obvious. There is a white mark on his forehead, the size of a large grape, others on his temples and neck, and an odd light trail extending from his throat down. They are blessed marks. They had not been there the day before. She is not the only one to notice, and stare. The king makes no comment on the new markings and the meeting begins once everyone is gathered. Zuri clears his throat to speak. “After the troubling events of yesterday, I and other priests held communion, seeking guidance from Bast. Early this morning, we received a vision. Or rather, King N’Jadaka received a vision. King Consort T’Challa was chosen as witness.” The news is highly unusual and is received to murmurs from the room ine. Rajvahi spares another look toward N’Jadaka where he’s once more seated on the throne. He does not seem bothered by the news. “Both the king and king consort have recounted the vision and after deep analysis of their accounts, and the omens given yesterday, we have concluded the king has been cursed by Bast.” More murmurs this time. Rajvahi looks from the king to T’Challa; a curse is a very grave matter. Zuri continues, “We believe the curse is only on the king’s person, and not on Wakanda by proxy. Additionally, the vision has given us an explanation not for the curse's cause, but for it’s resolution. Such was the only part of the vision explicitly intended for recitation.” “She only cursed the king?” River Tribe elder Yetunde hones in on what he and his brethren no doubt considered most important. “It would appear so.” Zuri answers. The elders look from one to another, a small relief exchanged in their looks that they were probably not the source of the problem. “Well? What was her resolution?” Merchant Tribe elder E’Nena demands when no one else speaks. Zuri takes a deep breath and continues in a ministerial tone, “These are the words of Bast: When the five children treat in full communion to advance my domain, when you have paid blood tribute for your father’s house, and when your heart, which now disdains you, pleads on his king’s behalf, then my curse will be lifted.” His recitation results in a small uproar. “Five in full communion?!” Yetunde’s scoff is filled with incredulity. “Not in our lifetimes, not in centuries!” E’Nena concurs with more derision. “It’s not possible!” Yetunde again continues, seemingly stuck on the first part alone. “Blood tribute and pleas are standard fare, but—” Border Tribe elder Sampani chimes in softly with more consideration. “‘Advance my domain,’ ” Rajvahi murmured. That meant expansion. After centuries of isolation, after millenia of unwavering claim to only this specific territory, or even yielding land to withdraw further in...If this accounting was to be believed, their goddess seemed to want expansion. In this century, that meant conquest. She wanted conquest. Rajvahi reconsidered their king shrewdly. The American-raised “Killmonger” who cut his teeth advancing in an imperialist military apparatus. “Not just united, but united to advance our domain,” said Sampani, drawing Rajvahi’s attention back to the exchanges of her peers around her. He is the only one amongst them who doesn’t sound incredulous of Bast’s decree. “It means conquest,” she said, as confident in her assessment as she was bitter. “Of course it means conquest,” Sampani agrees, derisively, “But how much? How far?” “No.” E’Nena spoke so decisively it drew everyone’s attention. “Never in Wakanda’s long and proud history have we beset our neighbors in conquest. They may not know us as we are now, but before the Isolation they did, and we know them.” E’Nena held the gaze of each of them in turn before continuing, “She must mean us to advance in some other fashion.” Yetunde jumped in, cutting the tension, “It could mean technological advance. Perhaps that is why she desires all five tribes in communion.” Rajvahi liked this idea much better, “Bring the Jabari into the advances they have excluded themselves from.” The other elders with the exception of Sampani nod their agreement. The king and king consort do not agree or disagree. T’Challa appears contemplative, N’Jadaka appears bored. When the commentary drifts all the way onto the Wakanda space program, Rajvahi gets a hold of herself and refocuses the council. “As interesting as it may be, we are not here to arbit what the king must do to appease our Panther Goddess to be relieved of his affliction. We are here to decide what we must do for Wakanda.” At that the tone shifts critical attention back onto King N’Jadaka. She did not need to put a fine point on their purpose: whether to hold a challenge day and replace their censured king. Rajvahi turned to Zuri, “Do you have anything further to report on the ritual?” Zuri hesitated for a moment before answering, “The king and king consort can attest to the contents of the vision to you as well as they did to us. We believe the interpretations of those contents speak for themselves. What else I can add is that the moment the vision ended, N’Jadaka immediately tried to extort T’Challa into making a plea for him.” Rajvahi frowned, as did E’Nena and Yetunde. T’Challa further clarifies, “He put a knife to Zuri’s throat.” Rajvahi makes a sound in the back of her throat and the elders all murmur in shocked or disapproving tones. N’Jadaka’s actions during his initial challenge to T’Challa have not been forgotten. Zuri continues, “When it was clear T’Challa’s plea was ineffectual, the king moved on to draw his own blood.” Dark mutters flit across the room. “Is that all?” asked Sampani. “Yes.” “Then we thank you for your testimony and your service, Priest Zuri.” She nods to him both in thanks and dismissal, and he retreats to stand respectfully against the wall of the chamber. “Now, let us consider the rest of the vision.” As one, the council turned to consider N’Jadaka. “My king, what else did our Goddess say? Why did She do this to you?” E’Nena questions N’Jadaka directly and asks what they are all wondering. The king shrugs. “Bast wants me to deliver on a promise I made when I became king.” N’Jadaka takes his time answering, and his answer is as vague as his tone is transgressively informal. “What sort of promise? If you are disfavored—” E’Nena begins but is cut off by N’Jadaka. “The promise is between me and her. She didn’t say she didn’t like me, she’s just getting impatient.” “Then why did she curse you? A curse shows great disfavor.” Rajvahi asks, most focused on what the priest has already said. “She cursed me temporarily. If I do what she wants, the ‘curse’ goes away. And I can’t do what she wants if I’m not king.” The king puts special emphasis on the word ‘curse’, as if Bast’s curse is some trivial matter, or of debatable legitimacy. Madness, when he had apparently been confronted with Her himself. Rajvahi has an odd feeling about the whole matter, and T’Challa’s subdued reaction to the proceedings. “King Consort T’Challa, you were a witness for this vision. Is what the king says true?” Rajvahi seeks verbal confirmation from T’Challa while paying attention to how N’Jadaka reacts to his consort being asked instead of him. The king did not look pleased and the bored expression from before disappears as they waited for T’Challa’s response. “N’Jadaka made a promise to the goddess she does not want him to forget.” When it’s obvious T’Challa will say no more, his mother speaks for the first time. Up till this point she had been standing at the edges of the large meeting room, in the position of a minor advisor instead of the place she once held at the king’s side. “If it is simply about a promise, why yesterday’s events? There were three major omens within minutes of each other. That alone is a cause for concern, an immediate challenge day even, and now the priests confirm the king is cursed? You cannot abide this.” Ramonda ends her speech with a meaningful look leveled at Rajvahi. Rajvahi agrees with only a little annoyance at Ramonda’s presumption. “Indeed. A curse, a resolution, and such omens are no small matter. It is important that we discern the cause so we can alleviate any disfavor or further ill omens.” She knows she has touched something dangerous when the king’s expression changes from bored impassivity to anger. “Bast told me what I have to do. I said I’d do it.” N’Jadaka speaks as if to end all further discussion. Then he adds a bit smoother, “Yesterday was a reminder. Nothing will stop me from doing what she wants.” He adds with some irritation, “Even the priests here couldn’t figure out what my ‘curse’ is.” Zuri confirms, looking sheepish. “We were unable to discern the specifics of the affliction carried by the curse, or the transgressions which prompted it. But the events of the past day do point to some sort of impropriety.” “Improper? This king?” Yetunde’s drawl is unbelievably sarcastic. “Impossible with his extensive knowledge of our ways.” E’Nena, this time and less amused. N’Jadaka must see the barbed insults for what they are, yet he ignores the comments, a flicker of a frown appearing on his face. T’Challa’s apprehensive expression-- posture straight and gaze carefully posed away from where his husband sat --speaks more for just how concerned the king must be with the situation and the insult. “If the king was improper as to earn such omens, surely the source can be determined.” Ramonda’s tone is measured. Rajvahi and the room at large wait terse seconds to see whether the king would deny the claim or let it sit unchallenged. N’Jadaka spares one irritated look to his aunt and gestures to Zuri to speak. “The list of possible improprieties that carries the weight of the omens we received yesterday is not long. If the king was improper, it is a straightforward matter to discern.” Zuri’s tone is halting, his resignation with the situation is clear. Rajvahi is reminded of a more heated discussion weeks earlier where N’Jadaka had refused this same priest from officiating over any of the Bast Festival events, despite years of tradition. That he would now preside over this aspect of the king’s potential removal from the throne is ironic. “Then we will discern the source of impropriety now.” Sampani says. Rajvahi wonders if he did not already guess what the king had done, after all the Border Tribe were first to ally with the king, and he seemed to spend more time with them than any other tribe. Zuri goes item by item through possible improprieties. Every time the king answers ‘no,’ Rajvahi’s heart sinks. There really were not that many offenses committed by an avatar of Bast that would deserve such omens. Beside N’Jadaka, T’Challa’s rigid posture from before seems to grow lax, shifting uneasily, his gaze finding odd places to rest. When they come to the subject of ‘non-consensual acts with another person’ the king answers, ‘maybe'. Further questioning narrows the ‘person’ down to N’Jadaka’s husband. Zuri concludes his questioning and the room’s atmosphere — already somber — turns oppressively solemn. Rajvahi has been watching T’Challa this entire time and his behavior while they were discussing the subject of improper acts involving him did not bode well for whatever would be revealed. Rajvahi speaks decisively to the room at large: “The Council will speak with T’Challa privately.” The king, council attendants, and T’Challa’s own mother are dismissed. No one argues, filing out silently. When it is only the Elders council, a handful of Dora and T’Challa remaining, a different sort of questioning begins. -:- W’Kabi -:- Them is Us by Rival Consoles There is an uneasy atmosphere outside the throne room. W’Kabi doesn’t like how the last few minutes of council progressed but he’s glad that they would not have to hear whatever T’Challa told the council. Around him the attendants, his wife and the queen dowager stand or shift about the antechamber. He had filed out behind N’Jadaka who now stands to his left in one of the hallways neighboring the throne room antechamber. They have a view of the city through long glass windows and W’Kabi takes time to admire the capital below them. N’Jadaka prowls a little distance away from everyone else, glancing around distractedly, and their gaze meets. W’Kabi gives him a slight smile, noting the tension in the set of the king’s eyes and jaw. N’Jadaka smirks in answer before looking away. W’Kabi’s gaze trails the white mark in the shape of a rain droplet on his king’s forehead, the circles of spots resembling jaguar rosettes down his temples, the white trail visible on bare arms. The new marks affirm what he already knows. N’Jadaka is worth following and, whether the rest of the Panther Tribe liked it or not, still favored by Bast. The council could have their secret meetings and T’Challa could speak as long as he liked, N’Jadaka would not be deposed. Naturally, there is precedence, there’s hardly a situation that didn’t have some precedence after Wakanda’s long history. T’Challa wouldn’t be the first to try to kill their husband, and N’Jadaka wouldn’t be the last king to make such a grave offense either. He remembers a particular conversation he had watched between N’Jadaka and T’Challa. N’Jadaka had asked to trade ‘time.’ W’Kabi could guess the direction of his king’s proclivities. The world outside of Wakanda did things differently and N’Jadaka being foreign born and raised would of course be molded by such barbaric impulses. W’Kabi had dismissed it at the time in his desire for what this new king could deliver, but he plans to guide N’Jadaka to more Wakandan pursuits. The capital was filled with beautiful, alluring and willing paramores who would love to vy for the new king’s attention and favor. A second spouse even, if they were so lucky. He’s considering some of his more connected cousins to whom he might introduce N'Jadaka to after this business was done when Okoye approaches him. His wife looks contemplative and regal in the early morning light. W'Kabi gazes at her warmly and she offers him a half smile. “This must please you, my dear. This king held to account?” He says, quietly. “I will be pleased when justice is done for T’Challa, and Wakanda is ruled by a king who serves us.” W’Kabi shrugs, smirking, “This one serves me now. The War Dogs would tell you likewise.” Okoye’s gaze turns grim and distant, her voice an undertone, “I prayed She would make him fit to serve us all.” “Do you think this was Her answer?” “If it is, I do not know if it satisfies me.” W’Kabi nods, “I imagine Nakia feels likewise.” He couldn’t imagine T’Challa had refrained from telling her his grievances, or that Nakia wouldn’t take his part Okoye looks at him, her eyes hard, “Our friends have not had it easy, my love.” She did not say, but he heard all the same, ‘Your dispassion is not becoming.’ W’Kabi holds her gaze steadily. “You know what I pray for?” They regard each other for a moment. “I pray for Wakanda,” he checks his voice, cuts off the defensive tone and continues firmly, “a strong Wakanda.” Okoye scoffed, “And you think he will make Wakanda stronger?” They both looked toward where the king paced like a trapped jaguar, her eyes full of scorn. W’Kabi didn’t bother to answer. His wife knew his mind. This Erik Stevens might be more savage than she liked but his ambitions served W’Kabi’s hopes for his homeland. People thought this king was barbaric? Good. He was. It was a reminder of how barbaric the world beyond Wakanda was. Nakia’s bleeding heart bled for T’Challa? She should be grateful she had been delivered a king who might actually listen, and empower her to meddle in the world as she wished. If she had her way they would be letting in outsider “refugees” by the dozen, by the hundred. And what would they do? With their primitive proclivities and impulses? Without a claim to the panther tribe and Bast’s favor? What sort of havoc would that wreak? A few months of hosting N’Jadaka and Bast already cursed him, however sparingly. No, N’Jadaka would remind Wakanda what it was like beyond the borders, and that Wakanda still needed to be protected from the world. Even some in his own tribe, who did not serve on Patrol, were beginning to forget. So while this king’s presence would do Wakanda good with each instance of his barbarism, he would also make Wakanda’s defenders stronger and more proactive no matter how long his reign lasted. He knows his wife understands this as well as he does, but she is concerned for the harm done in the meantime. Worried that their king’s destabilizing influence might divide and weaken the tribes further and do Wakanda lasting harm. Her concerns are not unreasonable. But W’Kabi trusts in himself and the position of guidance and council he’s cultivated with N’Jadaka. He had redirected the foreigner king’s fumblings before, and is confident he will be able to again. For now, the council would never remove a king who was spontaneously marked. They would no doubt throw their weight around more and things might become more difficult, but N’Jadaka would remain king and Wakanda would be stronger for it. -:- Rajvahi -:- Glass by Blood Cultures “What happened, T’Challa?” Rajvahi begins once the room empties. The room is now only the council elders, a few Dora and T’Challa at its center. The gravity of what they just uncovered has each and every elder sitting in tense anticipation. T’Challa answers slowly, as if going over the words in his head several times. His eyes are downcast and his hands by his sides are now clenched into fists. “On the wedding night…” Each word might as well be punched out of him and Rajvahi’s heart clenches in her chest at what she’s now certain is coming. “--N’Jadaka raped me.” T’Challa finishes his statement and the room seems to recoil with the putrid accusation. Someone curses, and the rustling of beaded cloth tells her E’Nena is probably forming the sign of Bast in front of her, though she doesn’t turn to see. Yetunde murmurs clear in the heavy silence something that sounds like, “filthy outsider.” The second word is a weighty insult and Rajvahi silently concurs. There is no reaction from Sampani, and when she deigns to look the Border Elder’s shrewd eyes are locked on a space to the right of T’Challa. Disgusted and now even more apprehensive, she wonders how much warning Sampani had of something like this with all the time the king spent with Border Tribe. Suddenly Ramonda’s insistence on investigating the source of the impropriety earlier seems less like her usual meddling and more like the silent plea it must have been. Righteous anger bubbles in her chest and she gathers herself to begin the rest of what would most definitely be a painful questioning. T’Challa’s wedding night had been months ago. Why were they just hearing this now? What had happened since then? “And after… the wedding night?” she asked. T’Challa doesn’t answer, the hands at his side clenching and unclenching, his jaw closed, his throat moving as if at any moment he might speak. Yet no words come. “T’Challa?” E’Nena prompts him a second time. “He promised he wouldn’t do what he did again.” T’Challa’s voice is wet and Rajvahi’s heart falls lower in her chest. This should not have happened at all. “--And did he keep to this...promise?” Something tells her he did not and T’Challa confirms it when he eventually answers. The movement in his throat and the growing watery-ness in his eyes are different sorts of confirmation. “He hasn’t repeated his actions of the wedding night.” T’Challa answers and Rajvahi knows he’s holding back, prompting again: “Has he coerced you in a sexual manner? Asked you for sexual favors? Touched you intimately without your consent?” She rattles the statements with the ease of familiarity, if not ease of mind, this isn’t her first time conducting a private questioning on such matters. It is, however, her first where she knows the victim, and where the perpetrator is their Bast-cursed king. How could T’Challa keep this a secret? How had he been able to even stand being in the vicinity of his rapist? “Yes.” T’Challa doesn’t elaborate. “This is vile!” E’Nena’s voice is heavy with emotion, anger mainly. Rajvahi pushes on, “Yes, to all three or just one?” “All three.” This time Yetunde doesn’t restrict himself to a murmur and his curse rings through the chamber. E’Nena’s cane in contrast is silent but her eyes are ablaze. Bast, the look sets Rajvahi on edge! Her usual warm expression is replaced by hard steel that emphasizes the lines of her face; her lips set in an angry line. “T’Challa, this should never have happened to you. We are disgusted. You have our outrage and our sympathy.” Rajvahi speaks formally as though for the entire council, though even as she says the words she knows they are not shared by all three of her peers. Yetunde says, with a wryness that doesn’t encapsulate the horror of the situation: “That is certainly grounds for a curse on an avatar.” “He did other things.” T’Challa’s response is unprompted for once, and the collective mood sours further “What other things did he do?” Yetunde with a hint of impatience in his voice, legs uncrossed and body leaning in towards the center. As if T’Challa were whispering and it would help him hear better. Rajvahi would not have couched the question like that but she too wonders the same. The omens from the day before… the vision. Bast had cursed Her avatar because of this. It had to be because of this. He couldn’t be allowed to continue in this manner. Surely this is what Bast wanted from them? An intervention on T’Challa’s behalf. “He threatened my mother and my sister. So that I would help him.” A choked gasp from Yetunde followed by sharp taps to the ground echoing once from E’Nena’s cane and uneasy shifting from Sampani. T’Challa doesn’t elaborate and the hesitation again strikes Rajvahi. The T’Challa she knew would not hesitate to speak the truth on a matter like this. In her experience this sort of reluctance to speak usually boded badly for whatever they had yet to uncover. “Has he harmed them or anyone else to influence you?” She prompts him to continue. “…An attendant, he choked her.” “He choked an attendant?” Even more outrage, more mutual disgust. “Why would he choke an attendant?!” Sampani asks but it must be a rhetorical question. A man who would rape his husband and threaten said husband’s family could do many things. “Where is the attendant now?” Rajvahi presses on. “She’s been dismissed. I stopped him from taking it further.” T’Challa’s answer is glib with what she knows he will not explicitly tell them. Not without extensive prompting. “How did you stop him?” This is the first time T’Challa has mentioned any sort of retaliation or attempt at defense on his part. T’Challa starts to speak, then falters. “I—pinched him somewhere sensitive. It distracted him enough to let her go.” “Was that the end of that encounter?” After what they’ve heard they all know it couldn’t be. “No. He beat me, in retaliation.” The mood cannot be uglier, and Rajvahi steels herself for continuing their duty to investigate the situation fully, continuing her questions no matter how painfully they are received, even if she feels ready to pass judgement now. “Is this the first time he’s beaten you?” “No.” “Does he beat you often?” “No. Only when he wants to...” T’Challa doesn’t complete his sentence, he doesn’t need to. “Did he assault you sexually after the attendant left?” Rajvahi asks, though she doubts the confirmation at this point is even necessary. It all paints a turgid and fouly predictable picture. “…Yes.” T’Challa’s hands are clasped together and there is a stiffness about his face and neck. Embarrassment? Shame? Rajvahi can only imagine what he must be feeling, retelling all of this to the council. The word ‘assault’ covered far more than just acts involving penetration and from T’Challa’s behavior, his reluctance and his silence pointed to N’Jadaka doing far more than T’Challa would ever tell, even in more explicit questioning, which they wouldn’t pursue. She had seen pictures of the two, at the honeymoon villa and at different events, and there had been no sign of this. Bast, the last three days of the festival even, she would have never believed such things were occurring behind closed doors. That this would happen right under their noses at the hands of a man they interacted with nearly every day? What sort of man was N’Jadaka? “Why did you not report it? From the beginning? Or tell anyone?” E’Nena’s tone is alarmed, tinged with horror and what Rajvahi imagines might be guilt. When T’Challa doesn’t answer immediately, Rajvahi prods more gently. “...T’Challa?” When he speaks it is in fits and starts, as if he were not quite sure. "I don’t know—When it first happened, I just-- It didn’t seem real. I wasn’t myself, after. Then at the honeymoon villa… I tried to kill him.” The final piece of the repulsive puzzle slots into place and Rajvahi pulls back. “No…!” Shock ripples through the room at T’Challa’s heinous admission and Rajvahi fights tears. So, this was why they were only hearing this now. Why T’Challa had been so reluctant to speak, to even come forward. Distantly she can see the hard lines in Sampani’s face smooth into something more neutral. “How could you, T’Challa?” E’Nena’s voice cuts through the new uneasy silence. “You of all people should know… we would have dealt with this on your behalf.” N’Jadaka would not have been allowed to remain king for all these months if they knew, justice would have been swift. Yetunde shakes his head in disbelief. Sampani clears his throat, gaze flitting over the other elders in the room before addressing T’Challa with his own question. “How did you try to kill him T’Challa?” “I used poison. I fed him poisoned wine.” “Did the poison fail?” Rajvahi asks next, applying herself to collecting all the facts. T’Challa shakes his head, once. “No, it worked. I watched him suffocate. It should have killed him.” T’Challa’s conviction when he says, ‘It should have killed him’ chills her. She does not want to examine just what and who would have been involved to transport such poison to the honeymoon villa. Nor what sort of strong emotions must have been driving T’Challa in that moment. “And after?” Yetunde prompts when no one else will speak. T’Challa’s reluctance seems to have gone with the admission of his crime because he speaks easier now, as if over eager to confess. “He told me; he would not rape me again. As long as I did not try to kill him. We made an agreement.” An agreement that N’Jadaka broke several times if T’Challa’s earlier statements were to be believed. But it was this agreement that had tied T’Challa to N’Jadaka in mutual silence. Bast! Rajvahi gives in to uneasy horror and forms the sign of Bast over her heart. Beside her Sampani uncrosses his legs, and when he speaks his voice is icy with impassivity. “You flaunted the law, seeking your own justice… and you failed.” His pronouncement is direct and Rajvahi chafes at his condemnation. E’Nena speaks before Rajvahi can: “N’Jadaka’s assault came before T’Challa’s attempt.” The old woman’s voice is steel, and Rajvahi watches not for the first time as the two respective elders turn to butt heads. “If he had simply reported N’Jadaka there would be no question to the matter. The law on assault is clear. But he didn’t and because he didn’t, it calls everything he has told us into question.” Sampani speaks rapidly before turning back to T’Challa. “Did you call any of your Dora for help? Before or after the act? Why remain silent?” The questions are insidiously reasonable and yet Rajvahi chafes at each one. The tenuous control T’Challa has somehow maintained since the questioning began breaks and large hot tears slide down his face. “I just wanted him gone! I didn’t think about reporting it, I don’t know why. I just wanted him gone.” And the manner T’Challa chose to go about it was such that if he had succeeded it might have been written off as an allergic reaction perhaps, and less like foul play. Not a crime of passion but of unknowing negligence. It could have been so clean. “Surely you don’t think T’Challa planned to kill the king.” Yetunde’s tone is incredulous, following Sampani’s line of questioning to it’s obvious conclusion. “I don’t know what to think. He tells us the king assaulted him multiple times but only now mentions his attempt to kill the king and after months of silence.” Sampani responds stiffly and Rajvahi steps in before the discussion can derail into dubious territory. “Bast granted us several omens yesterday after which she cursed the king and visited us in a powerful vision. What T’Challa may or may not have done in retaliation should not be the focus. N’Jadaka himself is.” E’Nena agrees, cane tapping. “Indeed. Neither the king nor T’Challa are above the law and the law is clear on assault as well as attempted regicide.” Rajvahi opens her mouth to continue but E’Nena is not yet done, addressing T’Challa. “You were a witness for the vision from Bast. Was She not displeased with N’Jadaka? Did She not condemn him?” “She did.” T’Challa says after swallowing silent tears. “In the vision, She silenced him, She said his behavior didn’t serve Her, said She would leash it, and he experienced something like a seizure.” T’Challa’s tone takes on a reverent tone as he describes what he witnessed. E’Nena nods, once. “How could she not punish a man like that? The Damisa-Sarki is her avatar, not a common criminal.” T’Challa continues, “It may not have just been a punishment on its own: I believe it was the moment Bast delivered Her curse’s affliction. E’Nena nods again, “Even better, that her punishment would be ongoing, after terrorizing his own husband for months.” The Merchant Tribe Elder’s words are met with agreement and uneasy shifting. “There are records of Bast taking the life of champions she deemed unworthy of her gifts. We all saw the signs yesterday, if Bast wished, N’Jadaka would be dead. He is not dead.” Sampani’s tone is like a story-teller’s, and like before he calls them all to reach a conclusion he already has. Yetunde scoffs skeptically, “Surely, he cannot remain king, not after what he’s done…” “She cursed him!” E’Nena exclaims, her conclusion clear. Sampani addressed T’Challa once more: “You say he coerced you, sought sexual favors and threatened your mother and sister. What methods did he use to coerce you?” At first glance, the statement could be taken as a simple information-gathering sort. But Sampani had an agenda and Rajvahi’s gut churns. “He said he would… go public with privileged information.” T’Challa stumbles over his words and Rajvahi winces in preparation for whatever can of worms this might reveal. Sampani gestures, “What sort of information could he threaten you with? That you would submit to this level of abuse?” If E’Nena’s glare were any stronger, Sampani’s abaya would surely catch flames. “That… is a valid question, T’Challa.” Yetunde sounds uneasy, and Rajvahi silently curses the politics that made this line of questioning even relevant in a discussion like this. Every king and Black Panther were given privileged information, and rights to exercise discretion. T’Chaka had certainly done things they would never know about as was his right as king. T’Challa could have done the same despite his short reign. “It concerns Wakanda’s security, I can’t speak further on the matter .” T’Challa finally says and Rajvahi lets out a breath. Sampani doesn’t seem surprised by the answer. “So… in exchange for your silence, N’Jadaka kept your secrets.” “Oh, for Bast sake! Sampani, you and I both know he was within his rights when he was king, you cannot seriously—” E’Nena’s tone is just this side of biting. “He could have reported this matter to us at any time and chose not to—” Sampani turns his attention to the other elder interrupting him and reminding Rajvahi how quickly this inquiry could descend to infighting. She interrupts both elders' attempts to speak over each other, “Peace!” Sampani wastes no time, continuing, “T’Challa, earlier you said the king coerced you for sexual favors. Could you describe an instance when he did so?” Sampani’s question is once again direct, and it’s also foul. Neither Rajvahi or the other elders had needed explicit details of what T’Challa counted as ‘sexual coercion.’ Yet they all waited for T’Challa’s answer. Rajvahi knew then that Sampani had suspected something and had not deemed it worthy of further investigation. His line of questioning might reveal why. T’Challa’s speaks impersonally, as if the things he described happened to someone else. “He asked for ‘time.’ A pre-arranged duration where he wouldn’t be told no.” A sudden wave of nausea washes over Rajvahi. “How many times did this happen?” She assumes many times but is surprised when T’Challa says: “Twice.” Sampani isn’t satisfied and prompts further: “What happened during these times?” T’Challa’s gaze is on the floor when he answers. “The first time he gave me a massage and the second time he asked for my assistance to do his hair.” “And nothing else…?” Sampani’s tone casts the entire matter as if it were trivial. As if the very nature of N’Jadaka’s interactions with T’Challa since their wedding night were not tainted with the memory and threat of assault. “Even if nothing else happened, the context is inappropriate.” E’Nena speaks when T’Challa doesn’t. “A massage is not assault, harassment yes.” Yetunde this time, looking consternated by the new thread of information. “If one’s rapist attempts to touch you after the fact it doesn’t matter if they were only trying to braid your hair it’s—” “T’Challa were you uncomfortable during these interactions?” Yetunde asks and Rajvahi can only feel incredulous at the question. T’Challa answers carefully. “Extremely. During the massage, there was a point where… it became harder to even breathe. The memories were...very strong.” “And the second instance?” Sampani’s tone is slightly more gentle. “I helped braid his hair in preparation for the festival.” “He didn’t coerce you to touch him in a sexual manner or vice versa?” Sampani has already made his point and Rajvahi has to bite her cheek from saying what E’Nena is already thinking. “No.” T’Challa doesn’t explain any further. They go back and forth like that with different questions from the elders often accompanied with charged statements to each other. After Yetunde questions N’Jadaka’s use of discretion and whether he may have abused his powers as king in his treatment of T’Challa, Sampani brings up an earlier point. “You say the king required you to sleep in the same bed with him. Has that been true for every night since your marriage began?” “No. I—couldn’t bear to sleep there after he hurt an attendant.” T’Challa doesn’t refer to the assault done to him at all. Rajvahi wondered at the ability of humans to become accustomed to certain types of violence. “He granted you an exception that night?” Sampani’s question is pedantic and E’Nena kisses her teeth. T’Challa’s lip curls, disdainful before answering. “No. I didn’t ask for permission.” “N’Jadaka allowed it?” “Yes.” T’Challa’s response is resigned. “So, you weren’t required to stay with him. You chose to.” Sampani speaks decisively and T’Challa once more reacts out of emotion. “No!” “This wasn’t the first time the king acted in an uncouth manner, yet this is the first time you left. You chose to stay.” “We have already established N’Jadaka threatened T’Challa and coerced compliance, whether he enforced that compliance uniformly is irrelevant.” E’Nena speaks with obvious consternation at the stance Sampani has chosen on the matter. Rajvahi, feeling as if they had mostly exhausted the pertinent questions and not wanting another barely veiled argument to develop between the elders, speaks. “I think it’s time to call N’Jadaka himself.” After all this discussion, reaching a verdict on this should be straightforward. Crimes had been committed and their own Goddess demanded acknowledgement and retribution. Yetunde agrees, and Sampani nods. E’Nena is the last to agree, vitriol toward N’Jadaka clear in her tone. They have the remaining Dora in attendance summon N’Jadaka back in. When N’Jadaka prowls into the room Rajvahi’s eyes slide on and off the white marks on his face and arms. He chooses to stand besides T’Challa, and the decision turns her stomach, knowing what they now did and what festered in between the two men. “T’Challa has laid forth accusations against you, N’Jadaka. He says you raped and sexually harassed him, threatened him and his family, extorted him for favors and assaulted an attendant. Do you deny these accusations?” The list of wrong-doing is much too long for any common Wakandan let alone an avatar of Bast, small wonder she had cursed him the day before. N’Jadaka’s eyes roam the room, before settling on Sampani. A look passes between the two before N’Jadaka answers. “No.” “Do you deny this is the reason for your curse and the omens from yesterday?” N’Jadaka shakes his head looking between the different elders’ faces, as if they were missing some important point. “I did what I had to do. Did he also mention he tried to kill me? Him and his mama.” “He did, yes.” Rajvahi confirms. “He did, huh?” N’Jadaka turns his head to cast a sidelong glance at T’Challa then points to his temple, where there is a thin long scar running diagonally down. Quite close to his eye. “He used a modified energy gun on me after he poisoned me, it left a scar.” “He brought weapons with him to the honeymoon villa?” Sampani asks as if needing clarification. Rajvahi sighs. She knew how some from Border Tribe least of all young W’Kabi’s own uncle would view this situation. Despite N’Jadaka’s actions preceding T’Challa’s retaliation, the fact that he had brought weapons with him to the honeymoon villa… even if it was just for protection, it did not look good. It looked like he had the presence of mind to report the incident, if he had so chosen. “He used those weapons, too.” The king sends another look T’Challa’s way. “I would be dead and you all none the wiser. But the poison failed, and I was wearing a protective suit when he shot me. So here I am.” “You expected an attack.” Rajvahi has to clarify. N’Jadaka speaks as if explaining to small children. “I expected an attack. He’s my king consort. If I die, he’s king again. At least till the next challenge day. Unlucky for him, I didn’t die.” “So instead of reporting the situation for proper action, you chose to extort him after the fact, threaten his family and… assault an attendant?” E’Nena’s tone is one of disgust and disbelief. “He’s not the only one who wants me gone, for all I knew some of you supported him. I dealt with the situation myself.” “You ‘dealt’ with it by forcing yourself on him in some farce of consensual availability?” Yetunde sounds incredulous and his disgust is mirrored by all of them as it is amplified by T’Challa’s stony silence. N’Jadaka’s face twists in a nasty sneer, “I didn’t have to force anything. He begged me for time just so I would—” The last of T’Challa’s composure breaks and he interrupts the king mid-sentence. “You are not fit to be king; you have no honor and if not for Bast’s own intervention—” “Is it a lie?! You fucking begged me—” “I never begged you, not like that! Stop lying—” “If I’m such a liar then why—” “Enough!” Rajvahi raises her voice, cutting through the two men’s shouting. However, the other council members are now having a conversation of their own. “The king’s actions are permissible grounds for removal.” “The omens alone are grounds for removal.” Rajvahi interrupts the back and forth amongst the elders. “T’Challa, did Bast ask for N’Jadaka’s removal in the vision? Did She express specific disfavor?” “She said—She wants what he promised Her. That Her curse was a leash.” “But She did not say that we should remove him? That She wished for a new champion?” “N’Jadaka shouldn’t be king. He’s unfit.” Rajvahi doesn’t disagree, yet she asks, “Did She ask for us to remove him, T’Challa?” The hall is now entirely still, the other elders hanging on this question as much as she was. T’Challa answers, “No. She told me Wakanda would ‘endure.’” That sets a new ripple of reactions from the others, but Rajvahi doesn’t spare the attention to take it in. Her heart clenches tight at T’Challa’s admission. Their goddess was displeased yes, but She did not want the source of her displeasure removed. Sampani’s words from earlier had been right it seems. If She wanted him gone or dead, it would not have been left to them. Rajvahi clears her throat. “In light of all this information, I believe some amount of restitution is in order. Counselling for both parties and public service at the very least.” The latter is mostly to reassure those of the public most bothered by the omens. If Wakandans thought their leader were out of favor, that spelled trouble for all of them. Bast may not want this king deposed but it didn’t mean they had to like him. They would all be watching him more closely from now on. “Should they not be separated?” E’Nena’s tone is deeply concerned. All eyes turn to T’Challa. T’Challa closes his eyes briefly, opening them as he seems to reach his own resolve. “No. I do not think a separation would be wise at this time.” T’Challa’s tone is measured. Amid all the reactions that garnered, Rajvahi couldn’t help be drawn to that of the king, who looked appropriately stunned. “We would not expect you to remain married, if it will cause you further harm.” E’Nena’s tone is earnest, a plea to let them help. “It will surely cause further harm,” Rajvahi couldn’t help but mutter. Looking regretful but resolute, T’Challa squared his shoulders, “I believe… from what the vision held… that it is Bast’s wish is for me to stay.” Rajvahi shuddered. What a dreadful thing, to see your patron, who had previously chosen you as Her champion, and feel She directed you so. But what more could any of them do than follow such direction? Looking around, she saw in the stony faces of the others that they agreed. She gestured with finality. “So be it.”