Archive of Our Own ^beta

Bella spent three dozen sunsets walking. She walked the length, breadth, and depth of Wakanda, lost in her thoughts, minding neither torrential rain nor blazing sun. She walked through the golden grasslands, the impenetrable forests, and the rocky highlands as she sought refuge within herself.

When her bare feet came upon the first outcroppings of the Rwenzori Mountains, she began to climb. She climbed higher and higher until the lush banana leaves were replaced by groundsels and lobelias and the air chilled from the windswept glacier peaks. She sat on the highest peak she could find, eyes lost in the clouds swirling between the rocky behemoths.

She let thoughts and memories roll off her like the condensed clouds slipping off her skin in crystal drops of water. She thought of what she'd learned of her past life, her experiences in her present, and what she should like to see in her future.

Another sunset came and went before she heard a human approach. She knew the footsteps before she saw the face.

"You have been lost," T'Challa said as he sat down beside her on the icy rock. He came dressed in layers of coats and blankets to ward off the biting chill of the wind, obviously prepared for where he knew to find her.

"Yeah. I have," she said, rubbing at a smudge of dirt on her pale forearm. She tucked the tattered remains of her white festival dress around her ankles, grateful her new body remained impervious to the elements.

"Mama W'Kabi said you worked hard and learned well."

"I didn't know it was possible for someone to be more intimidating than the General. I was wrong."

T'Challa laughed, a full, hearty laugh that echoed off the rocky crags and silver glaciers.

"Who do you think taught the General?"

"That makes sense," she said, her golden eyes falling upon the silver spear in his hand. He held the spear in gloved hands and tapped it silently against his leg as he sat on the ground beside her. It was identical to the spear carried by the Dora Milaje and he had never yet carried one in her presence.

"The General said you wanted to talk," she said, before T'Challa had the chance to speak again.

"Is that why you have been wandering every corner of Wakanda this past month?"

"No…yes…maybe...," she said, pausing and biting her lower lip as if her thoughts were rebelling against being forced into verbal acquiescence. "I needed to think and I think better outside. I think I know what you are going to talk to me about….you know I'm not going to leave."

"Why would I know that?" he responded.

"Where would I go?" she said.

"Wewe, daraja si maskani…a bridge is not where you dwell. It is true that you woke in Wakanda, but does it follow that Wakanda is your home?"

"Are you going to ask me to leave?"

T'Challa laughed. "No, I am asking you where you want to plant your heart. You can choose to stay where you are, as you are. You can choose to leave. Or," and here he paused to hand her the spear. "You can choose to become Wakandan."

She held the spear in both hands and watched as the sunlight glinted off the curves and edges. T'Challa met her eyes again.

"You are free to do as you please. You can decide to join your own kind and wander their paths wherever the wind blows. In your old life, you knew mazimwi who chose not to live as nomads. You can find their new homestead and reconnect with the zimwi who once held claim to your heart."

"You mean the family that literally left me to the wolves? No thanks," she said, pulling her knees deeper into her chest. "I don't remember much of the Cullens. I don't remember their faces or names, but what I do remember is pain and abandonment. I don't necessarily want to go running to rejection, you know?"

"You do not know they would reject you," he said, his deep voice dripping with kindness.

"Maybe they wouldn't. Maybe they'd be happy to see me, but even then, what kind of life would I have? Constantly hiding, seeking darkness and cloud cover, pretending to be something I'm not and running from what I am? That doesn't sound like much of a life.

"And wandering off by myself? I see even less benefit to be gained from that," she said. T'Challa laughed and gestured towards their isolated position on the mountain peak.

"Dada, you are sure you do not like to wander by yourself?"

She laughed with him.

"I really have been using this time to think. I know I've given the impression that I prefer to be alone, and maybe I do sometimes. I've come into this life with a lot of baggage from my last and the quiet of this past year has been what I've needed to come to terms with who I am now and what I have become. But I don't want to stay alone forever and the last few weeks of wandering has only made me know that more. I know what I want now.

"Wakanda is beautiful, in every way. I love it here. And I don't have to pretend. I mean, obviously not everyone knows what I am, but enough know where I don't have to hide all the time. You've offered me the opportunity to use what I am for good and you have given me a home and a place to belong. I'm very grateful for the chance you've given me at another life. I want to stay. I want to be helpful in whatever way I can."

T'Challa nodded.

"If that is your choice, then we will plant your heart here," he said. "You will need to become a citizen of Wakanda and you will need to see the real Wakanda. Once you enter our capital, you can speak of what you see to no one. You will be swearing your loyalty to Wakanda for life and the penalty for treason is death. And yes, we are fully capable of fulfilling that penalty," he said, meeting her gaze with eyes dark as cobalt. "You are not the only one with secrets to guard and who has to pretend to be something that they aren't for their own protection."

"I'm assuming this secret has something to do with the fact that you look like everyone lives in grass thatched huts but you have some crazy technology that can set up invisible perimeter fences, track vampires, and develop vampire anti-sparkle spray?" Bella said with a sly grin. "Or how Mama W'Kabi has a super fancy weapons lab hidden in a mabati outbuilding behind the goat shed? Oh, then there's the whole 'we turn the prince into a superhuman panther man that can take out half a city' thing."

T'Challa looked at her from the corner of his eye and his cheeks indented with a hint of a smile.

"Why do you do it?" she asked.

"What?"

"Keep secrets."

"Ah! In this, we are not so different from the mazimwi. Not so long ago, only half a millennium or so, the mazimwi learned that to survive and thrive, they must remain hidden. Their power and their survival is in their secrecy and not their brute strength. Those Italian overlords that shepherd the mazimwi, the Volturi, as they call themselves, they recognized that direct and open domination would invite direct and open warfare. While watu wote, the peoples of the earth, may be smaller and weaker as individuals, they are strong together and if they unified, could threaten the very existence of even the mighty mazimwi.

"Our people learned thousands of years before the Volturi were even suckling babes that our technology, weapons, wealth, and even our Black Panther are both strengths and liabilities. They are only strengths when they remain hidden. When they are exposed, they become our weakness. The weapons of the world would descend upon us like vultures on a fresh carcass, eager to devour us to the bones, and never looking back to remember what they have consumed.

"We have watched as kingdoms around us have risen and fallen like grass in the savannah, Wafrika, Wachina, Wahindi, Waraabu and Wazungu. They have all fought and died and shed blood to own the lands and the peoples around us. The mazimwi are not the only creatures who suck the life blood of others. There are human mazimwi who would stop at nothing to engorge themselves on the deaths of those they deem beneath them. They become drunk with their own power and conquest and insatiable in their thirst for more.

"These human mazimwi, either they want the land and its resources, making the people dwelling on the land an obstacle to remove. Or they want the labor of the people, their bodies, and so they are sold as livestock and their lifeblood is poured into the greatness of others until their spirits are gathered to their ancestors.

"Our people, we watch quietly and we have long memories. We watched as Meroë lit it's first forge, as Great Zimbabwe laid its first stones, and when Axum erected its first obelisk. Wakandan ambassadors traded with the Sultans of Songhai and visited the libraries of Timbuktu. We watched the first dhows cross the Indian ocean, followed by Omani sultans and white sails of the Portuguese explorers. Our people, we've seen wars and conflicts come and go like the dry and rainy seasons. Alliances are formed and broken, tribes gather and are dispersed.

"We warned the kingdom of the Kongo, the great cities of the Waswahili, and warring factions along the Atlantic coasts of the dangers of selling human bodies and sacrificing human souls. We warned the Hutu and the Tutsi, the Igbo and the Hausa, and the kingdoms of the Baganda and Bunyoro about the price of winning their fight against their enemies by forming alliances with the thirsty Wazungu.

"If a people choose to find their greatness through war and exploitation and conquest, if they sell people, their own or others, to gain power and wealth, they will reap the fruit of the seeds they have planted. Unfortunately, sometimes their bad seeds destabilize entire regions and nations and hurt the innocent along with the guilty.

"We have watched as the mazimwi of the Wafrika, Wazungu, and Waraabu bled the lifeblood from our neighbors, insatiable in their thirst for more gold, more power, more weapons, and more slaves. We have watched as peoples around us have sold their birthrights and been taught to hate themselves because of who they are, how they were raised, and the color of their skin. There is the conqueror you can see with your eyes and the conqueror you feel with your soul. The former is fought with guns and swords but what can conquer the latter?

"Wakanda-we are different than our neighbors. Our tribes voluntarily aligned and chose to establish our own country together. We were not forced by outsiders arbitrarily drawing lines on a map thousands of miles away. We chose our borders and we defend them. We created our own political and economic system based on our own values and what makes sense in our culture. Our unity, our desire to work together for the good of our nation, has been our greatest strength-more so than any amount of gold or diamonds or vibranium or gunpowder.

"We desire a country where both our land and our people are sacred and mutually work for the good of all. The king is dependent on his people and the people need their king. We do not want to become parasites that weaken and kill the very beings we need to support us.

"We also do not want our greatness to come at the cost of the freedom of other peoples. We do not seek to expand our borders or conquer our neighbors. Those within our borders are there willingly. What you plant in your garden will bear fruit and growing a kingdom through conquest means one day you will be conquered. Our strength must come from within and not from without or we will not survive the next millennia.

"We try to help our neighbors where we can. We send our ambassadors, we do humanitarian missions, and we speak quiet words of wisdom to the rulers we befriend, while still preserving our secrets. There are some who think we should do more, that it is time to dispel the cloak of secrecy and become who we really are.

"But that is dangerous. If we show our real selves to the world, it would take very little time before all the kingdoms of the world will come knocking on our doors with an excuse of why we should not rule ourselves. Even with our wealth and power, we cannot possibility take on the whole world at once. A nation or two at a time, yes. A continent or two, no problem, but not all.

"It is because Europe looked upon us as a nation of farmers that we escaped colonization. The most desirable conquests are those which are the most powerful and most valuable. If they knew what we held within our borders, World War I would have begun a generation earlier and we do not want to see our blood or the blood of others spilled if we can avoid it.

"Some are worried. General Okoye does not think it is an accident that the most deadly war the world has seen since World War II happened around all our borders this past decade. She feels someone has been stirring up bloodlust among our neighbors in hopes it will overflow into our borders and provide inroads into our kingdom. She thinks there is someone or some nation that knows our secrets.

"Whoever they are, they know they cannot hope to win by open warfare but think they can penetrate our defenses through guerrilla warfare and subterfuge. I would call the General paranoid, but Nakia continues to dream of dangers that will soon fall upon us. She has never been wrong. Her dreams grow darker and heavier of late.

"My role as guardian of our people is to protect Wakanda as we are and see we continue into the future. I would be a fool not to recognize how valuable you can be to us, more especially, as we anticipate darker days in future. You are welcome to be part of us for as long as you wish. For one generation or a hundred, the Kingdom of Wakanda would welcome your presence among us. Your secret is as safe as ours here."

Bella soaked in the ocean of words T'Challa shared. She turned the spear over in her hand a few times before she turned to T'Challa again.

"You already know my decision, don't you?"

"Have you made one?" he asked.

Bella stood, held the spear in her hand, and nodded.

T'Challa rose to his feet as well and nodded towards her.

"You have a job already in mind for me, don't you?" she asked as she began to follow T'Challa down the mountainside.

"I might."

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A small gathering of Wakandans in formal attire gathered around a shallow grave facing due east with the afternoon sun behind. Their deep violet, burgundy, emerald, and ivory colored garments draped off shoulders and poured onto the dusty ground. Four of the King's Guard finished digging a shallow grave while four of the Dora Milaje stood at attention at each corner, their spears facing towards each of the cardinal directions.

Mama W'Kabi, Okoye, W'Kabi, and Chuck Norris exited the dilapidated homestead carrying a figure wrapped entirely in barkcloth. They knelt slowly and placed the unmoving body into the shallow grave.

Shuri walked out last, wearing a barkcloth wrap and painted in designs of white clay. Her attire matched the little bundle she carried solemnly in her little hands. She knelt into the soft dirt and placed her bundle at the feet of the figure.

The King's Guard shoveled clumps of rust colored earth back into the grave. When they finished, they placed an engraved slab of marble to mark the head.

Isabella Marie Swan

September 13 th , 1987-January 31 st , 2007

Each person present poured a small mug of obushera onto the grave and joined into a chorus of prayers in each of their mother tongues over the soul of the deceased. Zuri's raised hands instantly called stillness over the tongues of the mourners. They gathered in a circle around the grave and turned all eyes towards Zuri.

"We are here today to remember the past life of Isabella Marie Swan," Zuri said in a solemn tone. "Death wears many faces and causes many seasons. Sometimes death will steal only the spirit and leave the body. Sometimes death will steal the body and leave the spirit. Sometimes death will come to one's place, one's position, an aspect of one's identity and who the person was before is no more. Death can visit slowly by slowly or in an instant.

"All death must be grieved. We grieve the death of social ties and connections, the myriad of ways their soul was incorporated into the lifeblood of the souls around them. We grieve the loss of what used to be and is no more.

"But we also remember that all death is also a door that ushers in new life, new roles, new seasons, and new relationships. Today, we release Isabella Swan from her past life," Zuri said as he opened his palms and sprinkled cassava flour over the grave. The powder floated across the grave creating lines in the shape of a cross.

Silence buried the small company as they meditated together in the sacred shroud of grief. Zuri allowed the silence to sink in deeply before he picked up a medium sized drum from the ground and began to pound, quietly at first and then louder and louder until the echoing thuds reverberated off the surrounded tree trunks.

"It is time to be reborn," Zuri shouted, speeding up the rhythm even further. The company began to sing together, a song sung to commemorate the healthy birth of a new child during the ceremony that welcomes the child into the life of the community. As they sang, the burial mound shook and a head emerged, followed by the slow rise of a barkcloth-clad body painted in brown clay.

Bella rose, leaving the small bundle in the grave. Inside the bundle lay the torn, bloody clothes she first wore upon her arrival in Wakanda, a picture of her with her father, a single lock of chestnut colored hair, and the dried skin of a kenge. The King's Guard reburied the mound, patting the dirt firmly into the ground.

Mama W'Kabi stepped forward, took Bella by the hand, and walked her into the hut she first called home when she came to Wakanda. There, she was washed and dressed in fresh, white embroidered robes, softly flowing over her like dandelion seeds on a light breeze. Her hands and feet were painted with red henna in flowers and swirls. She was given a string of beads to wear around her waist and a garland of yellow flowers to place around her head.

Mama W'Kabi then took her by the hand and brought her back out to where the small company sat on banana leaf mats and wooden stools.

"One this day, the fifteenth day of third week of mwezi ya tatu, 2008,I present Isabella Marie Swan, born in Wakanda," Mama W'Kabi said, pulling her to the center of the circled Wakandans. Zuri came and anointed her head with the ashes of the leaves of their sacred heart-shaped herb. Then Zuri spoke in a deep, authoritative tone that made the leaves shake above them, "Isabella Swan is now Wakandan by birth rite and citizenship. She comes under the full protection of the goddess Bast. Isabella, do you swear loyalty to the throne of Wakanda from this day forward? Will you protect the secrets of our kingdom, the lives of our people, and the sanctity of our lands with your own life, if needed?"

"I will," she responded.

Chuck Norris came forward with a tiny laser, specially formulated, and engraved her inner lip with the mark of all citizens of the kingdom. Then, he placed a bracelet of kimoyo beads around her wrist.

"The old has gone, the new has come," Zuri declared. "Let us feast and celebrate tonight and tomorrow we will return to Birnin Zana."

A cheer rose up from the small company. The General sidled next to Bella and whispered something into her ear. She nodded before turning to towards the gathered company, crossing her arms across her chest in salute, and shouting, "Wakanda forever!"

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