A/N: Killmonger has been waiting for this moment for a long time.
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Six long years. Playing nice. Getting in good with his kinslaying uncle. Doing everything in his power to present the image of a loyal, dedicated, and devoted nephew. At long last, it was paying off. Today was the day that everything heâd gone through would finally be worth it.
He had many names. In Wakanda, they knew him as NâJadaka. In America where he was born, his legal name was Erik Stevens. But privately, he preferred one name above all others. The name that heâd chosen for himself. The name that heâd won through his own blood, sweat and tears. More than NâJadaka, more than Erik Stevens⦠he was Killmonger.
Truthfully, if heâd had things his way, this wouldnât have been how he would have handled all of this. But Killmonger was nothing if not adaptive and the moment that the War Dogs had shown up to drag his ass back to Wakanda, heâd already been changing his plans.
Frankly, heâd always assumed he had the veil of anonymity. Sure, âUncle Jamesâ knew he existed, and so Killmonger assumed that King TâChaka knew as well⦠but when the years had gone by and nobody ever came for him, heâd taken that to mean they didnât care about him and were content to forget he ever existed in the first place.
That all changed when TâChaka had him brought to Wakanda. Killmonger wasnât ready, not by a long shot. But his military training and his lust for vengeance wouldnât allow for him to falter or fail. His goals remained unchanged, he just had to be smarter about things.
Unfortunately, thereâd been roadblocks from the very beginning. His cousins didnât like him and frankly, the feeling was mutual. Prince TâChalla seemed to delight in handing Killmonger his ass in the sparring ring, even though the only reason he won was because of the superhuman abilities granted to him by the Heart-Shaped Herb.
Meanwhile, Princess Shuri was too sharp for her own good. Heâd thought maybe in TâChallaâs absence, he could become Shuriâs favorite âbig brotherâ, but no such luck. She saw right through him in a way her parents hadnât, and even to this day, Killmonger hadnât managed to directly pin down where she ran off to when he went looking for her.
No matter though. They were a pair of spoiled brats through and through and Killmonger had quickly realized he didnât need them⦠at least, he didnât need them to love or even like him. What he needed, besides the approval of the King so he could continue working under the fratricidal monarchâs nose, was to reach out to the little people. To find the downtrodden, dispossessed, and angry within Wakandaâs Power Structure and turn them to his cause.
He'd had so much damn time to do so it wasnât even funny. Playing the long con had chafed a little bit, but heâd realized early on that this wasnât the kind of thing to be rushed. And look at all that his patience had gotten him. Here he strode, clad in the armor of the Black Panther. Well, rather, âaâ Black Panther, so long as his cousin still lived. Still, power flowed through Killmongerâs veins and the sparring he and TâChalla had done before the Prince had once again left the country had been far, far more even than ever before.
In fact, Killmonger knew for a fact that he could have killed TâChalla if he wanted to. But it wouldnât have served his purposes. It would have revealed his hand too early. After all, TâChalla wasnât King. He was an obstacle, but one that could easily be pushed out of the way.
That was why they were making their move now. Striding down the hallway towards the Wakandan Throne Room, his most ardent supporters flanking him on either side, Killmonger allows a savage grin to spread across his face. All of the pieces were in place. Six long years of hard work were finally coming to fruition.
TâChalla was off on a mission halfway across the world and Killmonger knew that because the War Dogs that the âBlack Panther of the Worldâ was working with had been subverted years ago by Killmonger and his allies. The order for them to try to kill the Prince at their earliest opportunity had already been sent out. Not that he expected them to succeed. In fact, he hoped they didnât.
By the time TâChalla made it back to Wakanda, it would already be under Killmongerâs control. And he really wanted to see the look on TâChallaâs face when he realized how badly heâd been played. Not to mention seeing the light leave the bastardâs eyes as he killed him with his own two hands.
Meanwhile, Queen Ramonda and Princess Shuri were also accounted for on this fine day. It had taken quite a lot of effort to get close to the Queen. Convincing the King that he was a good, positive influence on the Wakandan Royal Family had been childâs play. TâChaka was an old man filled with regrets. He wanted to be absolved of his sins in his final years of life. That was why heâd had Killmonger brought to Wakanda in the first place.
But the Queen was a little more difficult, mostly because she was more empathetic to her childrenâs gut reactions to him. However, whoever said time healed all wounds was an idiot. As a matter of fact, time only let you make an infected wound fester all the worse. Putting a wedge between the Princess and her father had been the start, followed by surreptitiously forcing the Queen to side with her husband more and more over her own daughter.
Eventually, Shuri had stopped talking to the Queen, which had of course broken Ramondaâs heart⦠and so Killmonger had stepped in to pick up the pieces, worming his way into the Wakanda womanâs heart and ultimately turning her into the tool he needed to finally pin Shuri down.
See, Killmonger wasnât an idiot. With TâChalla out of the country and all of his forces ready to launch a coup, the only true threat to his plans⦠was the damn Princess. That had been something else heâd done over the years⦠steadily lowering her reputation as a genius and a brilliant scientist in the eyes of her people, and ultimately supplanting that reputation with one of a flighty, spoiled Princess who was always acting out, rebelling, and disobeying.
There were just two problems with that. First, even of Killmonger had successfully managed to tarnish Princess Shuriâs reputation in the eyes of the Wakandans and even her own parents, he still knew she was a genius. And two and far more concerning was the fact that sheâd basically helped him along the way. Oh, they despised each other, so it wasnât like theyâd worked together⦠but rather, Shuri had been doing her best to dumb herself down and damage her own reputation at the same time that heâd been trying to ruin her image.
His preferences would have been to either get her working for HIM in a laboratory, putting that brilliant mind to work willingly inventing shit for his purposes⦠or to lock her down and make sure she never got near another lab again, forced to be the perfect demure little princess. If he couldnât have that brain of hers working for him, he would rather lobotomize the bitch.
Unfortunately, neither of those things had happened. Instead Shuri spent much of her time off of not only his and his alliesâ radar, but also out of sight and out of mind for her own damn parents. Killmonger knew that she was up to no good, wherever the fuck she ran off to. And he knew he couldnât just leave her in the wind, especially on a day like this.
That was why heâd helpfully suggested to the Queen that she needed to put her foot down and MAKE Shuri attend her today. Force the Princess to spend some time with her mother, to rekindle the relationship that had obviously been atrophying due to all of the time Shuri spent holed up who knows where.
Having received word that the Princess and Queen were having tea in another part of the Palace under the watchful eyes of the Wakandan Royal Guard, Killmonger hadnât hesitated to pull the trigger. Some people got it confused. They thought that the Dora Milaje were also the Royal Guard. But in actuality, they were the personal bodyguards of the Black Panther, sworn to serve him.
While there were a few who remained in Wakanda, the majority were out in the world doing TâChallaâs bidding while he was still Crown Prince. It was partially why Killmonger knew that the subverted War Dogs with TâChalla likely wouldnât succeed in assassinating him. And also why he knew this coup was going to go off without a hitch.
Because at the end of the day⦠The Royal Guard, the Border Tribe, and the River Tribe had all sided with Killmonger in his bid for the throne. The Mining and Merchant Tribes would fall in line once the dust settled. By the time TâChalla made it back home, he would face a united Wakanda⦠united against him and eager to see Killmonger do what he did best.
Arriving at the doors to the throne room, Killmonger schools his expression, pulling the smile off of his face and glancing at WâKabi. The Head of Security for Wakandaâs Border Tribe gives him a single resolute nod. He and the others at their back are with him. The Royal Guards open the doors to the Throne Room, interrupting the Council Meeting taking place within.
As all eyes move to him, Killmonger walks in with a confident stride, clad in his own personalized armor. Where TâChalla preferred black and silver, he had black and gold, something that he knew further ingratiated him to King TâChaka as it made the aging man think of the âGolden Tribeâ that they were all supposedly members of.
Of course, right now King TâChaka is looking on in confusion, seated at the head of the room as Killmonger moves forward.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om
âNâJadaka? What is the meaning of this interruption?â
Projecting nothing but solemnity on his face, Killmonger shakes his head.
âSorry Uncle, but this couldnât wait. Iâve uncovered a threat to Wakandaâs sovereignty.â
As expected, that gets the Kingâs attention. Hell, it gets the attention of everyone in the room. Of course, those on his side already know where heâs going with this. But for his Uncle and those who arenât in the know, Killmongerâs heavy declaration hits like a load of bricks.
TâChaka rises from his throne, stepping forward with wide eyes.
âWhat? Who dares to threaten us? Is it Stark? Has he finally made a move?â
Killmonger shakes his head, even as he continues to walk forward and TâChaka⦠TâChaka walks right towards him, putting himself in striking distance.
âItâs not Stark, Uncle. The threat to Wakanda⦠is you.â
SHUNK!
The claws of his Black Panther Habit drive deep into King TâChakaâs unprotected chest. A trained killer, Killmonger knows exactly how to make it work, pushing all ten Vibranium points in nice and deep before giving his hands a twist with his enhanced strength. TâChakaâs eyes widen as he chokes, the wounds undeniably fatal⦠but not immediately. Killmonger wants him to suffer first.
Clinging to his suit, the dying Wakandan King stares, uncomprehending.
âNâJadaka⦠why?â
All around the room, similar violence is playing out now that Killmonger has made his move. The handful of Dora Milaje in the throne room are cut down before they can even react by the overwhelming number of Royal Guards. The Council Members, including those who havenât come to his side quite yet, are left unharmed, a captive audience to whatâs happening right before their eyes.
âWhy? Iâm doing exactly what you charged me to do, Uncle. Iâm protecting Wakanda from all threats, including those who would harm us and hold us back. Like you.â
Thatâs what he says loudly and clearly for all to hear. Itâs the âplatformâ that heâs subverted more than half of Wakanda on after all. A platform for actually doing something about the threat posed by Tony Stark. A platform of actually going out there and doing something for their brothers and sisters who all these centuries later are still suffering under the yoke of the white man.
Of course, once heâs parroted the party line, Killmonger does lean in closer, to whisper the last words his Uncle will hear to him directly.
â⦠This is for my father, Uncle. And for all the people he could have helped if you hadnât killed him all those years ago, you bastard.â
With that said, Killmonger pulls his claws out of TâChakaâs chest, letting the dead man drop to the floor in a slump as he flicks the viscera-laden Vibranium points off onto his back. The King is dead⦠long live the King.
Stepping over his Uncleâs corpse, Killmonger moves to the vacant throne, turns around, and sits down on it. Then he sweeps his gaze across the room, smiling at the pleased looks on the faces of his allies and the horrified looks on the faces of his enemies. He opens his mouth to begin the process of turning those enemies into either allies in their own right, or more corpses⦠but then notices WâKabi bring his Kimoyo Beads up to his face, a scowl soon spreading across his features.
Snapping his fingers, Killmonger brings the Border Tribe manâs attention to him.
âWhat? What is it?â
WâKabi, still frowning, looks torn for a moment⦠but when he finally speaks, itâs understandable why.
âThe Royal Guards in charge of securing the Princess and Queen failed. General Okoye was with them, and the attempt to take them into custody fell apart.â
Ah. Now he understands. Okoye and WâKabi were married. Killmonger had found it interesting that WâKabi hadnât made sparing Okoyeâs life a priority when theyâd been plotting and scheming all of this. It was clear he held some love for the woman, but also clear he seemed to know she would never forgive him for his betrayal. His hesitation was understandable, but there was simply no going back now. Something WâKabi clearly understands based on his next words.
âOkoye does not know my true allegiances your majesty. She has told me to try and get to the King and failing that⦠to gather as many men as I can and bring them to reinforce her and the Princess and Queen⦠in the Princessâ secret laboratory.â
Killmongerâs eyes widen and he abruptly stands from the throne.
âYou have the location?â
WâKabi nods sharply, bringing a proper toothy grin to Killmongerâs face. For a moment there heâd been quite irate. All of his plans, foiled by a trio of damn women. The Tribe Leaders who he hadnât subverted yet even dared to look hopeful for a moment after hearing that their Queen and Princess were still free of his grasp.
⦠Let them hope. This was better than simply securing Ramonda and Shuri. Now, not only could he secure the Queen and Princess and hold the Queenâs life over Shuriâs head until she made him all sorts of lovely toys to play with⦠but he could also ransack the Princessâ hidden laboratory for every single goodie sheâd made before now.
âTake me there, immediately. You lot, keep the Council Members comfortable here in the throne room.â
Receiving salutes as his orders are carried out, Killmonger soon finds himself striding back down the hallway again, much sooner than he expected to be. But this was fine. He wasnât much for sitting his ass down on a fancy chair for hours anyways. No, that wasnât the kind of King he would be.
He was the kind of King who led from the front, always.
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A/N: Ah yes, running head first into a mad scientist's underground lair. This will go spectacularly.