Killmonger One Shots

Disney Prince Erik

"The locals will think you strange if they catch you staring at that shoe, cousin."

T'Challa's voice, warm and joking and concerned, broke Erik's concentration. He'd been staring at the glass heel in his hand since they'd left the palace. As if staring would unlock its secrets and lead him to the woman, he couldn't get out of his mind.

"Do I look like I care?" Erik scoffed. He put the slipper back in the velvet bag he'd brought to carry it in and stared out the window instead.

They were headed back to the Golden City. Fields, cattle, and dirt roads gave way to bustling crowds, tall buildings, and the usual noise of city life. They'd gone through nearly a dozen villages with no luck. Of the women in the village, very few had ever seen the glass slipper and even those that had couldn't fit it. Though every woman wanted to try.

"We will find her, Daka. We have yet to scour every village. I'll have Shuri cross-reference the guest list with the villages we've already searched. I'm sure she'll find something we haven't."

T'Challa spoke in that assured, calm way Erik was used to. T'Challa didn't like to worry before he had to. He was reserved in his emotions. Cool, still water to Erik's burning inferno.

Usually, when T'Challa spoke this way, Erik would clap back. Say something smart, or funny, or just fucking ridiculous. Anything to get a rise out of his cousin and shift the focus off of himself.

This time, Erik didn't bother. He was exhausted from waking up early and running around the countryside. He was tired of hoping for something he was sure he'd never have again.

Warm brown eyes looking up at him from behind a mask of faceted crystal. Her mask and her eyes caught the light, turning them brighter than the stars. Erik could have stared at her all night, but like an idiot, he'd turned his head and lost her for the rest of the night.

The ball had been his uncle's idea. The King of Wakanda wanted to see his boys married before he passed. With Erik and T'Challa in their thirties, the patriarch tired of waiting for them to find a partner and threw a party for the entire kingdom instead. He invited everyone. The party went on into the early hours of the morning before anyone thought about starting their journeys home.

T'Challa and Erik had done their duty as the guests of honor and danced with as many women as they could. Erik had even played nice until a woman was bold enough to grip his ass right there on the dancefloor. He'd gripped her hand and twisted, ready to make her cry or shame her right there in the ballroom. Then She appeared. Petite but strong, and saved the woman from his wrath.

"And I thought princes were gentlemen." Her accent reminded Erik of home. Of elote men and housing complexes. She intrigued him immediately, all thoughts of that rude woman gone.

For the rest of the night Erik and the woman -the Glass Princess, he began calling her, stayed close. They danced for an hour and then retired to the palace gardens for a break from the party.

They bonded over being Californians, traded stories about the emigration process from America to

Wakanda, and teased each other like children.

As a prince, something would always distance Erik from those he met. Whether through class, wealth, or experience, his title would always come up in any relationship he had. The Glass Princess was unfazed by his lineage. She called him Erik instead of Prince N'Jadaka like everyone else in the country, and she asked him about him. Not his uncle or cousins, not his father. Just him.

Erik couldn't remember the last time he'd just been a man to a woman, not a prince.

As the night wore on, Erik dreaded admitting to his uncle that his plan had worked. He was curious about the Glass Princess, but most of all, he was attracted to her. Her body, her voice, the way she talked about her work, the way most people talked about their favorite book or movie. She wouldn't tell him her name, but Erik preferred to call her princess, his princess, anyway.