𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐙𝐄 | 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐑

- CHAPTER ZERO

    KWA UPEPO: NAMOR

a week ago...

          What would someone do in a situation such as this one? What should someone do when those around them push their opinions and decisions?

Voices raised. They were speaking at once. Opinions are thrown here and there. Disagreements. Agreements. Loud and confident.

Yet, no one questioned Mawu Munroe's opinion. Despite this conversation being about her, the leaders of each tribe within Wakanda ignored her presence as if she didn't matter.

Is this what N'Dare experienced? Is this what she felt? Is this why she ran away with David Munroe?

Mawu had been foolish to think her uncle was happy that he knew his nieces were still alive. This wasn't about Mawu's happiness. All of this had been planned for power and political gain.

M'Baku sat lazily on the throne, rubbing his throbbing forehead. They had been at it for several hours now. Just think, Lord M'Baku of the Jabari Tribe and the new King of Wakanda dreamed of sitting on the throne; Since his childhood, he thought perhaps he could make a difference and show T'Chaka his Tribe meant more than what the inner circles believed. However; M'Baku didn't think it would be this tedious.

Mawu sat beside him in her golden black chair with her hands in her lap. Her long white hair was braided, going down her back. A flower crown sat on her head, woven by one of the gifted children she taught. She wore a vibrant red off-the-shoulder crop top with Sunset colorway designs and puffy long sleeves. The traditional yet modern Anakra skirt matched her top, with a zipper slit down her left thigh. She a sight to see, yet still ignored. Not a word came from her.

"Are we done?" M'Baku sighed.

"I see no point in any of this," the River Tribe Elder spoke, interrupting their King. The elder is a tall brown-skinned man sporting a green suit and a matching lip plate, a disc inserted in a piercing in the middle of the bottom lip to enlarge the hole during the male adolescents. "Mawu is not an object we can throw at our problems. She is the protector of Wakanda. Worshipped as a goddess throughout Africa. Isn't that enough?"

"My mother, Sekhmet, married my father similarly," the Chieftain of the Hidden Tribe stood. His narrow face scowled, and his brown eyes glared at the River Elder. Mawu and Ororo's uncle, Shetani, was once a handsome young man. But his bitterness and rage caused his features to age quicker than usual. He is intimidating to the others, except for M'Baku, of course.

The only reason the Hidden Tribe became the sixth house to join the Tribal Council was because of Ororo's marriage with the late King, T'Challa. If it were up to M'Baku, he'd remove Shetani. The man was too forceful and too erratic to make the right decisions. Yet, that is no longer an option. The Hidden Village had intertwined into Wakandian politics and everyday lives. Shetani might have been a thorn, but he did his job correctly. Supplying soldiers and agriculture. Wakanda needed them.

"My mother created one of the best generations to live. Mawu could do the same. She could give birth to a successive era that could turn our great nation into—"

Before Shetani could continue, the Elder of the Mining Tribe, Zawavari, cleared her throat. Wakanda is already viewed as the most powerful country on this earth. From her perspective, Shetani wasn't doing this for M'Baku or Wakanda's safety. Simply put it; Shetani appeared to suggest such an idea for his own selfish needs. Still, she plays along, wanting more answers.

"What about your daughter, Shetani?" the middle-aged woman questioned, raising one brow. "Abeni is young, beautiful, and just as powerful as the Munroe sisters. She hasn't married yet and could give you everything you desire through your grandchildren."