Archive of Our Own ^beta

It was marvelous to witness the mighty fall.

Cold floors. The northern winds rustling the lilac curtains along the long, curved wall of her quarters. Gold painted, onyx statues with long, drawn faces and purpled lips shaping her bedframe, their eyes casting a judgement on the indecent sight before them.

An unexpected guest kneeled at Queen Ramonda’s feet, the deep respect of the gesture rather disingenuous considering she breached her security. A blatant disregard for numerous treaties and the above all else, personal privacy.

But of course that meant nothing to Ambessa Medarda.

A General with no home, but with plenty of gold in her coffers to make up for it. The Medarda’s were merchants who sprouted out from the deepest depths. Well-respected swindlers who oversaw the ports along the gilded coast with an iron-fist.

Wakanda was self-sufficient in that regard, having no need for their…services. However, there were growing concerns from the tribes about their rise of influence over the surrounding nations. It skimmed their borders, teeth dripping blood into their soil.

It was a family that was nothing but ambition, blood, sweat, and tears, but they held no loyalty to any crown. Above all else, the Medarda’s protected their own interests.

And if those interests aligned with Wakanda’s enemies? That would become an issue. It was an issue.

According to her contacts, the family had been in communications with a few of their neighboring countries for weeks now. Talks of resources. Sourcing minerals for weapons from across the seas. Weapons that could rival their own.

There have been several proposed solutions on how to approach the problem. However, it appears the problem has decided to come to her instead.

Burgundy, thick cloth trimmed with a fluffy, black tipped, white fur fell over her shoulder in gentle waves. A cloak far too heavy for the season, but rather suitable for the ocean air. Underneath, she saw the smooth texture of the wax-print textiles, distinctly Wakandan in design. The attire split in odd places to accommodate for movement. The scoundrel wore it well.

Ambessa’s face tipped up, the light catching her scars. Gentle patterns, jagged edges, but they’ve softened with age. Kissing the sides of her neck and face rhythmically and cutting into the rosy stain on her lips. Those lips--twitched as she considered the slope of the pointed blade raised at her. Queen Ramonda’s staff a whisper away from the arch of her nose.

“Do you not believe me?” Ambessa asked, that honeyed drawl prodding, a sharpness shaping each word.

Queen Ramonda scoffed, even as her skin crawled under her scrutiny, “I do not trust you,” she corrected, tightening her grip on the staff. Letting its bladed end drop, gracing their skin ever so slightly.

It was a novel opportunity to speak to the Matriarch of the Medarda Household. However she did not appreciate being cajoled into negotiations while she was bare-foot, bare-faced, adorned in only her house-dress and hair wrap. She’d do anything to protect her country, but she was unwilling to throw away her dignity to do so.

Ambessa tilted her head, “Do you need to?” she murmured, with the elegant arch of her eyebrow.

Queen Ramonda’s scowl deepened, casting her a shrewd look, “Yes, I am quite fond of that custom.”

Ambessa made a show of considering this. Shadows gracing the dip between her eyebrows as she mulled this over, “I didn’t think you were so small minded, Your Highness,” she noted, tacking on the title carelessly. Little weight or reverence, a touch of amusement.

“You do not know me,” Queen Ramonda said, lowering her chin.

“And if I wanted to know you, would you allow me?" Ambessa shifted her weight casually. Blood beaded from where she leaned into the blade, a drop slipping over the ridge of her nose, down the crease of her cheek and running over her lip. Her eye-contact did not waver in the slightest. Even on her knees, they were on the same level. Easy, steady, dark eyes that smeared ash and stoked flame from that look alone, “Or would you prefer to strike me down?”

A pause sat in her throat.

It was a rather tempting offer, but she was rather fond of her chambers. She conceived all of her children here and she preferred to rest without the stench of blood.

Ambessa continued on before the other woman decided, “A conflict between our Households is not in the best of either of our interests. You know this,”

“Oh, do I?” Queen Ramonda responded, chilly.

“If you wanted to harm me, it would’ve been done.” Ambessa’s eyes raised towards the wide arches of the ceiling. She didn’t have to imagine the threat lurking above. Deep shadows disguising the crouching figures monitoring the situation.

Queen Ramonda’s nostrils flared. She should strike them out of spite. Intruding into her space, presuming to understand her, the audacity of it made her run hot.

She lowered her staff, letting it hang loose by her side. Steps slow and deliberate as she approached them. Studying them. Carving an image of the woman in her mind, turning it over, before deciding that wasn’t enough. She reached out, snatching Ambessa’s face quick. Hand holding her chin, thumb firm in the meat of her cheek.

She’s certain the woman could’ve easily stopped it. She’s entertained warriors before, she could tell those muscles weren’t for show. Yet, she allowed it. Leaned into it with the keen vitriol of a feline willing to play a little while longer.

Nails pinching skin lightly, she spoke quiet, low, “Do not interrupt my rest again,” Queen Ramonda said, looking at her side-ways, “You will stay in a guest room. You will enter through the front door, not a window, not the rafters--the door. And you will bear no weapons,” she exhaled, watching their reaction carefully, every twitch, every breath, “If you even snivel with ill-intent towards the snakes in the courtyard grass, you will be discarded by my people. You will not leave your room until you are accompanied by an escort. We will speak in the morning, at a decent hour, and no sooner. Are you capable of that?”

A glimmer in her eye. It passed quickly. Ambessa swallowed, controlled, but she didn’t respond. Not relenting even now.

Queen Ramonda let go of her face, turning on her heel in a huff. Frustrated, frazzled in away she has not experienced since her youth. Composure slipped away so easily.

She should have the woman removed. Her finger twitched, the shadows closed in and flanking her sides. She doubted the woman would abide by her orders, it might become a struggle. Medarda’s couldn’t be controlled. No country could claim them, no one could sway them, yet--

Ambessa Medarda rose to her feet without another word, allowing the guards to take each arm. Chin held high, a few inches taller than her, shoulders broad, movements graceful. A sweet, slow dripping, rich smell. The smell of copper faint, if not insignificant. She inclined her head, gaze lingering for a long while as she was escorted away.

Once the door shut, Queen Ramonda let out a shuddering breath, knowing she’d know nothing of peace for the rest of the night.