Blood & Honor||Bucky Barnes FF

Vienna

Part 1

Footsteps echoed rhythmically down the long, ornate hallways of the palace. Each step reverberated off the marble floors, a steady cadence that was accompanied by the soft, metallic clinking of vibranium as Amari moved with purpose toward the throne room. The intricate vibranium components of her uniform caught the light, casting subtle glints as she passed through shafts of sunlight streaming in through the tall windows. The palace, with its sweeping arches and rich Wakandan design, seemed to breathe with history, and Amari felt the weight of her ancestors in every step she took.

The large double doors to the throne room loomed ahead, crafted from dark, polished wood with vibrant accents of gold. As she approached, they swung open smoothly, their motion almost silent despite their size. Amari entered the room with a firm, confident stride, her hand gripping the spear she held as both a symbol of her authority and a weapon of protection. The grandeur of the throne room stretched out before her, an awe-inspiring blend of tradition and advanced technology. 

The high ceiling was adorned with intricate patterns, showcasing the artistry of Wakandan craftsmanship, and large, towering pillars lined the sides of the room. The floor, glass, supported by steel, reflected the soft glow of the golden sunlight that streamed in through the massive windows at the far end of the room. These windows provided a breathtaking view of the Wakandan landscape beyond—a panorama of lush greenery and distant mountains that seemed to touch the sky. Yet, despite the natural beauty surrounding the palace, the room had a sense of regal stillness, a place where important decisions were made, where the fate of a nation could be shaped.

In the center of the room stood the throne itself, a majestic seat made of vibranium, its sleek, black surface glinting subtly in the light. Around it, the podium was colored in a warm orange. The walls were adorned with tapestries and artifacts from Wakanda's rich history, each item telling a story of the Black Panther lineage and the nation's undisputed sovereignty.

As Amari's gaze swept across the room, she noticed only three figures present: King T'Chaka, standing tall and regal beside the throne; Prince T'Challa, his son, seated nearby with an air of quiet thoughtfulness; and Queen Ramonda, dignified and graceful, watching the scene unfold with a warm but discerning eye. The small group appeared to be in the midst of a private discussion when Amari's presence caught their attention.

T'Challa was the first to notice her arrival, his sharp, observant eyes lifting to meet hers. A smile of recognition spread across his face as he rose to greet her. "Usisi!" Sister! he called out affectionately, his voice full of warmth. His use of the Xhosa language was familiar and comforting, a language they had shared since childhood.

Amari grinned at her brother's greeting, responding in kind. "Mzalwana othandekayo!" Dear brother! she replied playfully, her tone light as she crossed her arm before her chest dramatically, teasing him with an exaggerated show of respect. Her movements were fluid, her body poised with the grace of a seasoned warrior, yet her playful nature was still evident.

T'Challa chuckled, shaking his head as he waved her off. "Stop, you know I don't like that," he said with a laugh, his heavy accent echoing lightly in the cavernous room. Amari couldn't help but laugh along with him, their bond evident in their easy camaraderie. It was a rare moment of lightness in a space often filled with the gravity of royal responsibilities.

After their laughter subsided, Amari's gaze shifted toward King T'Chaka. The king, ever stately and imposing, stepped forward with a calm grace that spoke of his years as Wakanda's ruler. His presence filled the room, not just as a king, but as a father and protector of his people. 

"Amari," King T'Chaka greeted her, his deep voice carrying both authority and affection as he moved toward her. She bowed her head respectfully, but her smile was warm and familiar. "Baba," she said softly, acknowledging him with the respect he deserved, though the bond between them was evident in the softness of her gaze.