T’Challa introduces himself to the Harem.
It’s the 2 year anniversary of Chadwick’s passing. Rest easy sweet prince <3
OC Visuals
T’Challa wakes before sunrise. For the first few minutes he simply meditates. Then he sits up and begins to go through his messages. His two new primary attendants contacted him the night before and their messages detail their progress on the things he’s assigned along with their own considerations. Both attendants were retired service members from his father’s kingship. His mother worked hard to bring them out of retirement and their loyalty and skill gives T’Challa confidence. As he scans the list, T’Challa makes a plan for the day. His directions for re-organization in the common spaces have been completed. The risk assessment for staff and concubines within the palace is incomplete. They had been able to gather reliable information on most staff and each concubine’s daily movements in the last month but there were glaring holes. Chief amongst them, what happened to the missing concubine, Solomon. Officially the River Tribesman had a severe allergic reaction, any further explanation is missing. Presumably he had returned back to his family but the lack of waves from his exit points to something more sinister. N’Jadaka had two stewards removed not too long after the incident but there was no further details on that either. T’Challa scans through the rest of the reports but it’s mostly minutiae and speculation. He pauses over the details relating to some concubines more than others, especially the River princess. She was perhaps the busiest amongst N’Jadaka’s wives. Most recently Amina petitioned for new attendants to replace the two that had resigned. Her request had been ignored but presumably T’Challa as master of the harem could grant her request. After a while he moves on to other messages but his mind is occupied with what he would be doing today. His biggest concern was securing a place in leadership, even if he couldn’t sit in the highest council there were other committees and groups he could join and influence. But his position as a concubine, even if he were the highest ranking, caused problems. The king’s harem were not supposed to interfere in politics. If T’Challa overreached he would be accused of going against his new status and position. When he and his mother strategized the weeks before, they decided the best justification for his movements was through service and civic duty. While the line between a public perception that viewed him as an active steward, interested in the daily lives of Wakanda’s people as opposed to a former king grasping for influence and power was not a wide one... T’Challa believed in his ability to balance his public image with his private goals. The first step was speaking to N’Jadaka and confirming expectations. He knows from a previous conversation that N’Jadaka was an early riser so T’Challa doesn’t spend much time once he’s organized himself for the day. Anticipating that the time he spent in the common area alone would be short at best. The king’s wing within the harem palace is smaller than the one in the capital but it makes up for it with gorgeous views and an oasis-like design that turned even the most simple architecture into a work of art. T’Challa walks to the wing’s modest kitchen and begins to boil water as he contemplated a breakfast that wasn’t just tea. He has a perfect view of the surrounding rooms and sees when N’Jadaka steps through the central parlor’s entryway. The parlor had a circular pit in its center with padded cushions to lounge or sit and sleek metal tables built into the sides. T’Challa watches the man pause at the edge of the pit, as if contemplating walking through it. He seems to think better of it and as he rounds the room’s corner their eyes meet. T’Challa nods good morning, N’Jadaka doesn’t acknowledge the greeting, stepping into the kitchen. The next few minutes pass in silence as T’Challa makes himself tea. N’Jadaka in contrast pulls down an odd looking object from one of the higher shelves. T’Challa realizes what it is when the smell of coffee grounds waft his way. A coffee maker. The stove appliance T’Challa used to make tea could also make coffee, N’Jadaka had to know. Or maybe he didn’t. Perhaps Wakandan coffee wasn’t to his taste? T’Challa doesn’t ask. He takes his tea and goes to sit in the parlor. He assumes he will have to initiate conversation, at least to get the answers he wanted but N’Jadaka beats him to it. He joins T’Challa in the parlor within a few minutes, no cup in sight—had he drunk it all in the kitchen?—noticeably more awake. “I have things to do so I’m not sticking around. I know you brought people with you, someone will get them settled if they aren’t already. I brought you in so I wouldn’t have to deal with minor, stupid shit, so don’t call me about stupid shit—“ “Do I have complete authority over your harem?” T’Challa interrupts. “Define complete authority.” N’Jadaka answers shortly. “Do I have your permission to organize, discipline and manage them? Not just the staff, everyone.” T’Challa makes sure to specify. “As long as it’s not illegal or breaking some other harem law. '' N'Jadaka doesn’t sound bothered by the premise, keeping in line with his previous attitude. T’Challa did know most of the harem laws by rote now. He knew which ones aligned with modern Wakandan civic and royal laws. Knew which ones he could contest in court. Knew which ones were outdated but not repealed—he didn’t have a choice now that they governed his daily life. “And if your wives complain to you about my… peace keeping, will you support my decisions?” “I don’t have time to listen to ‘he said, she said’. Whatever you have to do to keep things peaceful, do it. If I have to come back and mediate, you won’t like it.” “I want to institute some routines. Things to keep everyone busy while you are away. Does that sound appropriate?” T’Challa asks, knowing N’Jadaka probably wouldn’t care or object. According to the report his attendants sent him this morning, he spent significantly little time within the palace. N’Jadaka shrugs, “Sure.” “Specifically I want to encourage them to participate in local work efforts. This shouldn’t clash with the times when you are in the harem palace, as long as you give some fore-warning but it could.” T’Challa lays out a vague sketch of his plans, trying to gauge N’Jadaka’s interests or tolerance for potentially not having all his wives at his beck and call for the times he did visit. “Are you going to be working too?” N’Jadaka doesn’t latch onto the obvious part of his question and T’Challa has to quickly find a way to explain his part in the equation. “I might do volunteer work. It would be hypocritical to tell them to participate and not do any work myself.” Most civic positions were unpaid, it was indeed volunteering. Just not the sort the other wives would be doing. He can’t tell if N’Jadaka accepts his answer or not. “Fine. Part time hours only.” N’Jadaka stipulates and T’Challa nods in agreement. “Of course.” Followed by another awkward silence as T’Challa considers other questions to ask. “Is there anyone I should be more attentive to?” If N’Jadaka had favorites he wanted to be allowed more leeway T’Challa could do that. If there was any other information N’Jadaka was willing to give he would gladly take it. “I don’t have favorites if that’s what you’re asking.” N’Jadaka sounds amused. T’Challa maintains an attentive expression, ignoring the urge to roll his eyes. “I ask because one of your concubines is no longer with us and I’ve yet to recieve any explanation. Would you like to fill me in now?” “Solomon had a bad allergic reaction. I sent him home.” N’Jadaka’s response doesn’t leave any details for T’Challa to pick at. “Did you investigate this matter?” “Yeah. The staff were negligent.” “You don’t suspect foul play?” An allergic reaction severe enough to send him home didn’t just happen. Unless N’Jadaka was lying, or someone else had lied to cover up something. “There's no proof.” This more than anything cements T’Challa’s suspicion. Seeing that N’Jadaka wasn’t going to be more forthcoming he changes the subject. “Is it possible that any of them might be pregnant?” N’Jadaka shakes his head, his expression is a mix of amusement and horror. “Hell no. If they are, it's not from me.” T’Challa has to bite his tongue from asking the obvious ‘are you sure?’ Instead he asks, “So you are taking precautions?” “Of course.” N’Jadaka goes back to being short with him and T’Challa allows some of his irritation to show. He wouldn’t be asking these questions if they weren’t relevant to his new role. “None of them are traditionally expected to be taking precautions. They are expected to have children.” Two of them had already been flagged in his report for questionable fertility drugs and stimulants. “I don’t want kids.” N’Jadaka sounds confident. T’Challa is reminded of their negotiation weeks ago for his entry into the harem. N’Jadaka required him to sign over his womb rights. So he wasn’t clueless as to the risks that came with children. “Have you communicated this to any of them?” T’Challa would guess no. “It hasn’t come up.” “The appeal of joining your harem for some is the promise of having Panther Tribe children. You will be facing scrutiny eventually.” N’Jadaka doesn’t seem surprised or bothered with this information, T’Challa takes that as a sign to keep it moving. “Is that why you’re here?” N’Jadaka throws the question back and T’Challa has to take a second to dissect the audacity therein. There were several ways to remove his cousin and even at his most desperate, replacing him with a viable heir hadn’t been a consideration. It certainly wasn’t now with the agreements he signed. “No.” His answer is stiff from what he realizes to be resentment. They don’t talk for much longer and N’Jadaka maintains his trend of giving unsatisfying or worse, useless answers. There’s a moment towards the end of their discussion where T’Challa is rudely reminded of the power imbalance between them but the moment passes quickly and N’Jadaka’s violent temper doesn’t climb past thinly veiled threats. N’Jadaka leaves the wing first, refusing the invitation to the communal breakfast T’Challa had planned with the rest of the harem. This refusal suits T’Challa perfectly and his smile once he’s alone is not fake. -:- Amina knows 25 minutes too late that N’Jadaka is no longer in the harem palace. The message comes from one of the maintenance staff she’s been cultivating and it brings her morning preparations to a screeching halt. Last night N’Jadaka ignored her for his new consort, today he didn’t even stay long enough to see the rest of them. How was she supposed to manage this? She gives up on the elaborate style she had been attempting and switches to something simpler. There was no point in being extravagant if her primary target wasn’t here to see it. She would look good no matter what style she chose anyway. Despite her lack of enthusiasm, she still makes sure to arrive at the dining hall much earlier than the invitation. She expects to be the first there, barring whichever staff were setting up breakfast. She’s not. Prince T’Challa is waiting when she enters the dining hall, a hall that was now arranged differently. The last time she had been here, there had been several small tables and numerous seats, allowing visitors to sit where they liked. Today there was only one large oval table and eight seats. The prince was seated at its head. He doesn’t seem to notice her arrival. Amina clears her throat, waiting impatiently for her presence to be acknowledged. When the prince finally looks up, she salutes him politely. “Good morning, Prince T’Challa.” With N’Jadaka gone she doesn’t have to use English. Amina doesn’t address him by his newest title, ‘Prince Consort.’ Partly due to her own dissatisfaction at him being four whole ranks above her and everyone else in the harem, partly ingrained habit. T’Challa has always been a prince, much longer than he was a king. “Good morning…” Prince T’Challa greets her but doesn’t address her by name. From the way he trails off it’s as if he doesn’t know. She and the others introduced themselves during the wedding but perhaps he didn’t remember. She refuses to introduce herself again. Walking towards the table she takes a chair situated towards the middle of the table. The table has already been set with plates, cutlery, condiments, assorted drinks and light refreshments. As she reaches for a pitcher filled with sparkling water she makes simple conversation. She pretends she doesn’t already know N’Jadaka wouldn’t be joining them, and makes a good show of disappointment. For a while it’s just the two of them seated at the table. When she runs out of casual things to say they slip back into silence. The next few to arrive come in a group. N’Dari, Hashaan, Iman & Adanech arrive together. It’s obvious, from their clothes to their demeanors they expected N’Jadaka to be present and Amina can tell the moment when it hits each of them that the king would not be coming to breakfast. Suddenly she’s glad for her early arrival because she gets to be seated while watching others go through the awkwardness of first greetings and all the banal pleasantries. Unlike her, the four newcomers introduce themselves once more when T’Challa makes no effort to recall their names. What surprises Amina, though it really shouldn’t is Adanech’s covert disrespect. The Mining Tribesman doesn’t salute. Prince T’Challa doesn’t react or seem to care but Amina gleefully enjoys it. A salute wasn’t required but like many things it was a sign of respect. Someone like T’Challa was almost *always* saluted. With the configuration of the six out of eight seats available there’s not many options for the newcomers. Hashaan and N’Dari sit across from each other, Iman and Adanech beside them. Leaving the last two seats directly right and left of prince T’Challa open. With the time of the invitation finally at hand, proper breakfast food begins to be served. Amina asks pointedly about the two late comers, all faux concern but prince T’Challa just says, “I’m sure they’ll join when they can.” No one seems to be interested in talking and so they all tacitly focus on their breakfast—or in T’Challa’s case his reading. A good twenty minutes later, one of the late comers finally walks in. Kesi looks like she just rolled out of bed. Amina doesn’t laugh but she wants to. The Border Tribeswoman had been ‘sick’ recently and holed up in her room. But even she knew not to shirk Prince T’Challa’s invitation. Why she couldn’t set an alarm like a smart person and make herself presentable before coming was beyond Amina. She waits to see the same awkward show from before and is disappointed when T’Challa greets Kesi unprompted, with her name even. Why he remembered her name Amina doesn’t know but it irritates her, especially with rising confirmation that T’Challa only knew Amina’s name *now* because others in the room had said it for him to hear. Kesi chooses the seat on T’Challa’s right. Amina waits till Kesi is seated and starts to serve herself to say, her voice pitched to carry: “I heard you’ve been sick, Kesi. Why didn’t you ask for leave if you weren’t feeling well?” It’s not really a question, more of an admonishment. She knows just what ‘illness’ Kesi had but the others didn’t. For all they knew it could be contagious. Across from her Iman smirks and Amina returns the smirk with a knowing smile of her own. She didn’t really care for them, they were so quiet she sometimes forgot they were there. But unlike certain others Iman didn’t try to stop Amina’s fun. “I’m feeling better now, thank you.” Kesi’s response is weak, lacking in confidence and volume. Amina wants to say more but prince T’Challa interrupts. “I’m glad to hear you’re feeling better. I trust you took proper precautions.” Towards the last part his gaze slides over to Amina and rests there before moving back to Kesi. Reluctantly Amina lets the thread of conversation go, listening as T’Challa and Kesi talk. There are other conversations beginning now around the table but her focus is on Prince T’Challa. Apparently he had met her before on his Doctoral survey. Amina files away the information to analyze later. Border Tribe didn’t usually pursue fields outside of science and agriculture, let alone get to a Doctoral level of study in them. Their chat ends abruptly when Kesi tells prince T’Challa she was no longer studying because she had been selected. That admission seems to elicit some sort of sympathy from prince T’Challa but it doesn’t develop further because the last of their number finally joins them. When Uche walks in the hall is at an awkward break, with not even the side conversations going on across the table to cover her entrance. It’s obvious to Amina that not only had Uche been up for a while, but that she had spent dedicated time getting ready. The nearly translucent print around her eyes and the carefully accessorized braids points to significant effort. Unfortunately for her, N'Jadaka was not present to see it. Unlike everyone else before her, after Uche scans the table of people, she doesn’t greet T’Challa. “What happened to all the tables?” Uche askes the room at large. Despite there being only one available seat left at the table she makes no step towards it. Amina’s eyebrow twitches, stuck between elation at seeing such a show and disdain for the sheer stupidity. She knew Uche was the youngest amongst them but this was ridiculous. Did she think she was the only one to wonder about this? Why ask such a silly question? Especially after ignoring greeting etiquette and arriving late. Prince T’Challa answers her question, “I had them removed. I wanted a more communal arrangement.” Amina doesn’t know what it is but his tone sounds different. Before it were as if they were all having a friendly conversation, now there’s an extra layer of authority. A lecture instead of a chat. “Why are you late?” T’Challa asks and they all wait for an answer. Amina wonders if Uche has finally gotten a clue but she’s bound to be disappointed. “I was getting ready. I don’t normally wake up this early. Where is N’Jadaka?” Uche doesn’t even add an apology. Amina exchanges looks with others at the table. Even Adanach, Uche’s fellow Tribesman, looks uncomfortable. “I wasn’t aware that some of the harem were so lacking in etiquette and time management.” T’Challa’s voice is soft yet perfectly audible to everyone listening. For some reason the hairs on the back of Amina’s hand stand up. Then T’Challa gestures to a corner of the room. One of the two attendants in the hall comes forward to his side. Their face is unfamiliar and so Amina assumes they must be new and assigned to him. “It’s just breakfast. It’s not a temple holiday for Bast sake.” Uche doesn’t back down. Amina can’t even enjoy the train wreck, it’s just too stupid. “You were late. Uche, no one else was as late as you. Just apologize and sit down.” Hashaan speaks up. Amina gives him a look, why was he interfering? Even Adanach hadn’t said anything. Uche seems to get a clue finally but it’s a little too late. T’Challa ends the quiet conversation with his attendant and the last available chair is taken away from the table by the attendant, leaving an empty space. “When you meet your senior, how do you greet them?” T’Challa’s question is directed at Uche, and the word he uses for senior refers to lineage and role instead of age. This time she doesn’t ask something silly like ‘why are you taking the chair away.’ Perhaps her brain was finally working again. She doesn’t answer T’Challa’s question though. T’Challa asks another question into the incredibly tense silence. “When you, a concubine meet, I, an honored consort. How should I be addressed?” When Uche finally answers, her voice is no longer so brash and confident, turning nasally and anxiously soft. She also answers incorrectly. Amina is not surprised. She already knew not everyone in the room actually studied harem etiquette or law. Solomon certainly hadn’t. T’Challa shakes his head and after he corrects her answer, has Uche greet him properly. He doesn’t have the attendant return the 8th seat, leaving her to stand at his left at a table where everyone else was seated. She had to feel humiliated. Amina is almost certain Uche will burst into tears. She doesn’t, unfortunately. With all of them now in attendance T’Challa addresses them as a body. Unlike before when they had just been exchanging small talk, his language is almost script-like. Amina realizes after a while parts of his address were probably taken from a scriptural for marriage. The prince tweaks it of course to fit their situation, and his position above them. He spends a decent amount of time going over rules and expectations. All part of the ritual that hadn’t been completed the night before when he arrived in the palace. There were probably parts that N’Jadaka was supposed to say. In his absence T’Challa completes this ritual alone. When Amina thinks it’s about to be over and they can hopefully leave, T’Challa’s tone and language shifts to be more informal. He then proceeds to drop a bomb on them. “I’m sorry that N’Jadaka couldn’t join us today. I know you all miss him. In his absence I will speak for him. Starting tomorrow I will be hosting several events throughout the month. I expect you all to attend at least one each week. You will also have the opportunity to join me in service and volunteer work. This is not mandatory, your first and primary responsibility is to N’Jadaka. However I trust you all to see the value in serving Wakanda’s citizens in tangible ways as well as the importance of maintaining a worthy public image as N’Jadaka’s wives.” In other words, T’Challa intended to manage all of them closely and if they didn’t follow along they could say goodbye to their reputation. If Amina could, she would curse. But all she can do is nod and agree like the rest. Her father had been right, Panther Tribe was different. Notes: