Chapter Text
Over the many centuries, the Dora Milaje had been headed by many great Generals. Each a consummate warrior. Each the very best of her age.
But none of them, Okoye was convinced, had had a job as complicated as hers. When King T’Chaka had gone out into the world, he was the ruler of a tiny, poor African nation that nobody cared about—because it had no useful resources white people wanted, nor did they ask for charity, start genocides, or open their borders for missionaries to come “help” by teaching them about Jesus, disrespect, and smallpox.
T’Challa walked on the world stage now as the ruler of one of the wealthiest and most technologically advanced nations on earth, with a resource everyone wanted and would probably do some very awful things to get. Protecting him was a very different game.
Not just him, either. She was staffing protection details for Wakandan Embassies all over the world, plus outreach centers, one for technology in the United States—not a dangerous location, but since it contained Princess Shuri, it was heavily guarded—and several that had been opened in Africa for social issues. International projects were underway, funding massive infrastructure projects in their neighboring nations that had been so long pillaged and neglected by their colonizers. The royal family and senior officials visited them, and Okoye had to keep them safe.
It was the largest hiring and training spree the Dora had ever gone through. Okoye fought with N’Gani of the War Dogs over talent—women were in high demand over there, too, as their operations also expanded. Arming street gangs in New York and starting a war with the United States would have been a terrible idea. But arming miners in the Congo so they could effectively strike against De Beers was working out much better.
It was a good time to be unbelievably busy. If she didn’t have five minutes to sit, she didn’t have five minutes to contemplate how work was all she had anymore.
She had attended W'Kabi's trial, watched T'Challa strip her husband of his land and titles. The divorce hearing had been straight forward. He had no assets to dither over and he was entitled to none of hers. She did not watch him being loaded into the truck that would take him to his exile. She had meant what she'd told him she would kill him. For Wakanda and what he had tried to do with it she would have run him through and mourned the loss. But she had no deep desire to see him dead.
Let him spend his years at the rough edge of their country, knee deep in goat shit and thinking on his sins. It didn't make her home or bed any less lonely, but it seemed like justice.
She moved, unable to sleep in the same house they had shared. Nakia and the Doras had handled most of the details and she had found herself in a nice, spacious apartment in the Capital, with a view of the jungle and no memories of W'Kabi.
"Perhaps I should get a cat," she said idly to Nakia one day.
“Do you like cats?”
She paused to consider. "I respect cats. They're independent, domesticated on their own terms and give an accept affection only when desired.”
“And what would you be getting from this relationship?”
Nakia knew her too well for her to try to lie. "Another heartbeat in the house.”
“That is a very valid desire,” she said. Nakia got up to get more melon from the fruit tray on the table on the other side of the room. Okoye liked hanging out in the royal residence. There was always good food.
"The hiring and training is slowing down." It had been just over 4 years since T'Challa had opened Wakanda to the world. "It suppose I have more time to think.”
“I think getting yourself some, er, evening company wouldn’t do you harm, either.”
Okoye's brows raised. "Are you telling me to get some?”
“Yes. That is exactly what I am telling you.”
"Such language is unbecoming of a queen.”
She laughed. “Okay, but I am sort of serious. I think you’ve devoted more time to mourning than he deserved.”
"I was not only mourning him. I grieved the life I thought I might have had.”
Nakia sighed. “I know. I’m sorry.”
She lifted a shoulder and stood to go peruse the food. "I thought the cat was a reasonable first step.”
“There is something I wanted to tell you,” Nakia said. “Speaking of heartbeats.”
Okoye turned to look at her. “Oh?"
She grinned back. “I have two of them.”
She gasped, and crossed the room to hug her. "Congratulations! Does His Highness know?”
“Yes,” she replied. “But you are the second person I’m telling.”
"I'm honored." And a little sad. But she would hide that for her friend. "I'm so happy for you both.”
“Thank you. We’ve been getting a lot of hints, and we figured it’s time.”
"Never too early for an heir, they say.”
She chuckled. “Probably not, no.”
She squeezed Nakia's shoulders. "You are happy?”
“I am. Faintly terrified, but happy. T’Challa is thrilled.”
"Well, of course, he doesn't have to push it out.”
The apartment was quiet when Okoye got home. Usually she liked the quiet, but tonight she felt unsettled. It was probably the pending Royal Baby. She was happy they were happy. She and W’Kabi used to talk about how much of a mess T’Challa and Nakia’s relationship was. They felt sorry for them, like two observers smugly sure of their own stability. Funny how times change.
He had not been her first love, but he had been a strong and sure one, for many years. It had been like a lightning strike when she'd met him, introduced by T'Challa. Their first date had lasted for hours, the two of them sitting and talking at a cafe till it closed up. From that moment there had been no one else.
Shaking off the bittersweet memories, she stood at the window, looking out at the city. Maybe Nakia was right. Maybe she needed to get out and heal old wounds with new memories.
Out for drinks with a few of her girls the following week, she mentioned the concept as casually as possible. And immediately had the rapt attention of the four other women at the table.
“We need to find you a different bar,” Ayo said.
“I like this bar,” Okoye replied. She’d gotten blindingly drunk in it the night of the battle where she’d almost had to kill her husband. There was a fondness now.
“Me too, but it’s full of lesbians and that hasn’t seemed your speed.”
"That's a good point. But finding a new bar is so much work.”
“Maybe we could set you up,” Aneka offered. “I know a straight guy.”
"Just the one?" Ayo asked.
“It’s not exactly my crowd. Oh, wait, we do know a second one. What was his name, that cousin of Nakia’s. Dumb as a post.”
"No," Okoye said firmly. "I've met him. He wouldn't last through appetizers.”
“You could just skip the talking part.”
"Just make vague gestures until he pulls his pants down for my perusal?”
“I don’t know,” Aneka said. “I’ve lived in an all-woman environment since I was fifteen. I don’t really know how heterosexual people go about mating. Other than when we were in that hotel when the King was in Moscow and the TV was stuck on a channel playing Russian porn.”
“Vague gesturing followed by stripping is about how western porn goes,” Nareema said, because apparently they were all getting in on this.
"It's not generally seen as a how-to menu," Okoye told them, wishing she hadn't mentioned it. But she had mentioned it and there was nothing to do but push to the other side. "What is this lone straight man of your acquaintance like? Staged any coups recently?”
“Not that I know of. He’s my brother’s wife’s brother. He’s Merchant Tribe and they have money.”
"Hmm." Money didn't exactly appeal to her, but one had to start somewhere. "You like him?”
“He’s always very nice to me. Has dogs.”
"I suppose I could give him a try.”
There began what she would later refer to as her Summer of Bad Dates. She let people set her up because that was how Wakandans did things. A relationship that had been started by a mutual friend or family was considered better than one that happened by chance. Though really, throwing darts at a crowd probably would have yielded better results.
Most of the men were very nice, though she did meet one who was aggressively competitive with her, and another that was obsessed with getting to meet the King. But they were all. . .boring. To hell with lightning, there wasn’t even a spark.
"Celibacy is looking very appealing," she told Nakia as they went for a walk in the trees. "Fill my place with cats.”
“Have you considered casual sex?” Nakia asked. “Maybe you just need to get over the hump.” She laughed. “No, I did not mean to make a terrible pun. My brain is foggy.”
"It was always hard for me to trust someone enough to be naked with them. W'Kabi's betrayal did not make me more trusting.”
“That is a good point.” She paused. “So, about that cat?”
"Want to come to the shelter with me?”
“I would love to.”
Of course, going anywhere in public with the now-visibly-pregnant Queen made for a little bit of a spectacle, but the people at the shelter were reasonably well behaved.
Feral cats were tolerated in Wakanda more than in most countries she went to. They were considered the children of Bast and were usually fed and carried for by locals. It was common to have a bowl by the back door to put your dinner scraps and leftovers for any lazy feral looking for a supper. Shelters did try to take in injured or sick cats and kittens and pregnant mamas, to keep populations in check.
Okoye and Nakia wandered the rooms of cat enclosures, some with two or three inside, usually siblings used to each others company. Little signs on the front listed names, ages, and personalities and they were color coded, with words like cuddly, or playful, or feisty.
"Feisty seems like code for 'will pee on your pillow when mad at you,'" she commented to Nakia.
“But could you respect an animal that wouldn’t stand up for itself?”
"Respect doesn't get the cat piss smell out of my pillow.”
“That one is labeled docile,” she offered, pointing.
Okoye was a little concerned that would mean it spent the whole time under the bed, but she didn't want to sound like she was being contrary so she headed over. On the way she passed an enclosure with two black kittens tumbling over each other. She stopped there to watch them play a moment.
"I like these two.”
“The tag said feisty,” Nakia said.
"They're young, they should be feisty." She glanced at the label. “Sisters."
“I’ll go get the lady at the front desk.”
Thank you." She crouched watching them tumble over each other until they noticed her and came over to the glass to sniff. When the shelter worker returned, Okoye was allowed into the enclosure to meet them. Nakia stayed outside, giving her a moment alone.
She sat on the ground in a smooth motion and both kittens came over to sniff her hands and knees. Neither fled when she tried to stroke their heads and backs. One was brave enough to climb onto her leg, pinprick class digging in, and stretched up to touch noses with her when Okoye leaned down. The other watched in awe at her sister's bravery.
Yes, these two would do just fine.
Before she took them home, she bought a selection of necessary cat supplies, including a fairly hideous climbing structure for them. She’d have to find something better looking. She knew they existed, but this was all the pet store had, and she was eager to get the babies home. She’d missed having animals. Even the rhinos she and W’Kabi had raised.
"Naming things is difficult," she told Okoye as they watched the newcomers explore her apartment.
“It’ll come to you.”
"If T'Challa even attempts to suggest I got the black ones as an homage to him, I trust you will set him straight.”
“On my honor as a queen.”
Okoye nodded. "Thank you for coming with me.”
Nakia bumped her shoulder with her own. “You’re welcome. I think they will do you good. Another heartbeat, as you said.”
"Two, even." Okoye nodded to her friend's stomach. "How is your little heartbeat?”
“Looking good on the scans. It’s a girl.”
"Good. His Highness needs more women to order him around.” The kittens were trying to scale one of her bookshelves—unsuccessfully, but they kept trying.
Nakia chuckled. “I think he was hoping for a boy, to be honest. But he’s happy.”
"Good. I'm glad for you both. I can't wait to be her godmother.”
“You’ll have her throwing spears before she can walk.”
"But of course. No soft princesses for Wakanda.”
One of the kittens came over, and hopped on Okoye’s knee. She stared for a moment, and when Okoye reached to rub her head, she purred. This had been a good decision.
There was a knock on the door, and Nakia turned her head. “That’s my ride.” Nakia didn’t bring along a Dora detail when she hung out with Okoye—she was the General, after all—but they shuttled her back and forth.
Scooping up the kitten, she walked her friend to the door. "I will see you tomorrow at the council meeting.”
“Enjoy your kitties.”
"I will, thank you.”
Okoye had a meeting with the King in the morning, and was soon amused he knew she’d gotten kittens. “If you feel compelled to name one of them after me, I understand."
"They are girls," she informed him dryly.
“Then I’d understand less.”
"I was thinking of naming the calmer one after your mother.”
“She would likewise be honored.” He tapped the screen embedded in his desk. “Shuri wants to open a European tech center, out of London.”
She glanced at the images that had popped up. "Makes sense. The one in California is doing well.”
“It’s in the preliminary stages, but I know your staffing has a long ramp up, so I thought I’d warn you now.”
"I appreciate it. I will check my numbers and adjust as needed.”
“I would also like you to start thinking about security for my daughter.”
She didn't glance at him. "I am insulted you think I have not already.”
T’Challa was quiet a moment. “Nakia said you were a little odd about it, so I hadn’t wanted to bring it up.”
Okoye sighed. "The two of you having a baby brings into focus the ways my life has not gone as planned. But I will not love her any less.”
“I am sorry,” he said quietly.
"It's not your fault. It is what happened.”
“I think we all wonder what role we played. What might have made things turn out differently.” Pending parenthood was apparently making him feel philosophical.
"He made his decisions. He knew what he was doing and had chances to turn back. He chose not to.” She didn’t need to mention who she was talking about.
T’Challa looked at her a moment. “You are steady as the earth itself, you know that?”
"Years of practice, Your Highness.”
“I do have a gift for you. Nakia and I do.” He paused. “It was mostly her, but she made me come and look up the information so I’m just sending it to you now. For your cats. She said they require some sort of furniture, and the one you got looks like it was designed in America.”
How on earth they had managed to get a new climbing tower in less than twenty-four hours she would never know. But she had to agree, "It does look like an American design.”
“We got a new bed—one with more space to accommodate Nakia’s pillows—and got it from a company that makes custom furniture. They will make you cat furniture. It’s already set up, you just have to tell them what you want.”
"That is very thoughtful of you," she said. "Thank you.”
He grinned. “Nakia told me they were black cats.”
"They are. Two sisters, about four months old. Already own my apartment.”
“That sounds about right.” His beads chimed, and he inclined his head. “I need to take this. Thank you, General.”
"My King." She nodded and let herself out of his office.
The rest of her day was full of meetings. Most of her days seemed full of meetings lately. Her spear was getting rusty and her muscles were going soft. She needed someone or something to beat up, but her problems lately weren’t the sort you could solve with a good stab.
Maybe she should change up her work out routine. Run in the jungle. See if something attacked her. She could go to a bar and beat up grabby drunks. She and Nakia used to do that to blow off steam when they were younger.
Or she could just embrace being an old cat lady, and spent the King’s money on a fake forrest.
Building the fake forest could be done on her couch with a glass of wine and two cats sleeping in her lap, so it won out. She went, perhaps, a tiny bit overboard on the cat jungle gym. But her babies would be spoiled, preferably on the royal dime.
She got a message back in the morning from the furniture company. We need to measure your space.
"Ugh," she said aloud to the kittens. "People." Still, she wrote back. I have time this afternoon.
4 PM. It was a statement, not a question. Okoye was not used to people making demands.
She supposed they were both lucky 4pm would work for her. She replied with only her address.
A man showed up at exactly 4, carrying tools and what looked like physical measuring tape. She wasn’t sure she’d ever actually seen someone use that before. It was an old-fashioned thing, like a spinning wheel.
"How long will this take," she asked as she let him in.
“As long as it takes,” he replied. “But not long.” He had a very odd accent it took her a bit to place.
It wasn't exactly the answer she had hoped for, but she actually didn't have any plans for the evening. He was, if she was honest, quite nice to look at. Broad shoulders, strong features, bit of a beard. He looked like a man who worked with his hands all day. "I was thinking of putting it over by the window there." She pointed, walking over. "They like to look out at the city."
He tapped the wall above the top of the window, he was that tall. “You mind if attach something here?”
She shook her head. "That's fine. I intend to stay here a long time."
He took more measurement with his tape, then asked, “Do you want exactly what you ordered, or do you want something made to this space?”
Okoye looked at him a moment. "I suppose I am not an expert on cat furniture, so I'll take something made for the space.”
He smiled, as that seemed to be the right answer. “It will take about a week.”
She sighed deeply. "I suppose I will have to spoil them in other ways till then.”
“Nothing wrong with a little delayed gratification now and then.” He looked down, and there were two kittens winding around his ankles. “They do seem happy.”
"I've only had them a couple of days. Grateful to be out of their little box.”
He crouched down to pet them. “Do they have names?”
"That one is Ramonda," she told him. "The other is Shuri.”
He chuckled. “How very royal.” He stood. “I am Idi.”
"Okoye," she replied, inclining her head. "You are. . . Jabari?”
Idi grinned. “I know who you are. And yes. The accent or the tape measure?”
"Mostly the accent. I have heard M'Baku pontificate at council long enough to recognize it.”
“I’m just a carpenter. I don’t pontificate much.”
"You're Jabari. I'm sure you have Opinions on wood.”
He packed up his tools. “Many. No one around here much wants to hear them, though.”
Jabari felt about their wood the way most Wakandans did about their vibranium. Everyone was a snob about something. "I didn't think many of the Jabari worked down here in the lowlands.”
He nodded. “Not many of us do. I came so my daughter could attend a special school. My tribe is small and we don’t have the kind of resources for. . . certain needs.”
That didn't surprise her. A tribe as small and insular as the Jabari wouldn't have as many resources, though they would do their best to take care of their own. "We have excellent schools," she said. "Especially for those who need help. I'm glad you found something for your daughter.”
“I did. So I put up with the city. Even if it really isn’t my thing.” It was not entirely hers, either. The Border Tribe lived a very rural life. Everyone had land, and everyone had livestock.
"I grew up on the border," she found herself saying. "I find the city . . . very loud and busy.”
“Too many bodies crowded in,” he said in agreement. “Everyone is in a rush.”
"What does your wife think of it?”
She could see his face shift—discomfort, grief, resignation—and knew the answer before he spoke. “She would have hated it.”
"Ah." Okoye crossed her arms over her chest and dipped her head, silent condolences. "Do you have opportunities to go back home?”
“I go home during the school breaks. They ever get that train built I might get home more.”
"I shall pester the king on your behalf.”
He grinned. “And I will build you a beautiful climbing structure.”