Lioness | Erik Killmonger

Chapter one: The beautiful

For he hadn't known
True beauty

'Tis this night

Chapter one:  The beautiful

"Why did Moran choose him?" Anila urged through the halls as the lights began to grow brighter around them. "Surely there are other suitors out there?"

"What's the matter?" Her older sister Farah asked, with nothing more than a faint smile. "Does he scare you?"

Anila knew better not answer truthfully. Farah like many sisters was inquisitive and manipulative, Farah would ease Anila out with sweet words and false assurance. However, everything - or most things the sisters had discussed was told to the oldest of their three brothers, Moran; and Moran would see it as an imperative to diminish any thought Anila had that didn't suit his plans.

"He is just a man," she said, her voice trailed off hesitantly. "What is there to be scared of?"

"Just a man?" Farah said softly, no doubt laughing at Anila's obvious discomfort. She took two long strides ahead of her younger sister with the ends of her skirt racing after her. "Of course he's just a man, Anila,"

"Exactly! So, there is no use- there's no use... being frightened or scared of him," she said. "Remember what father said-"

Anila hadn't known how long they had talked, but they had soon reached the throne room, where their brother and Anila's betrothed sat. Her eyes searched the space. Warriors stood below, belonging to both the Dora Milaje of Wakanda and the Bdt Al'asad of Asharn, in celebrations of the colours: red and gold, black and silver. Although they were formed on either side of the hall, they all had one point to look at; to which they didn't dare turn away.

"I always tell myself what father used to say to us - in fact, everyday." Farah uttered bitterly. She stopped and swiftly turned to Anila that had unknowingly pulled herself to a halt to stare at the wonder below.

"But husbands aren't just men, they have more importance,"

"Because husbands require children," Anila pointed out. Her hands steeled over the aluminium made rail. "And wives produce - children."

Farah rolled her eyes laughing at Anila's sudden disinterest. She never quite understood why she at times felt so certain and other times not so. They had discussed marriage and children, even when they were children, and their conversation were always filled with happiness and hope. Now - Anila seemed to disregard her early ambitions and hide her uncertainty behind a mask of mere seriousness.

"Farah? Is that you up there?" Moran called, surrounded by his younger brothers and a large majority of his council and of course - the Wakandans. There was a hint of annoyance in his tone that alarmed both sisters.

"I need to get you down there," Farah whispered pulling Anila along into the privacy of her solar. The dressmakers stood from their stools, there were fabrics of many rays of colours and furs lost in their hands, and needles pulling through the thick air that was trapped in the room.

"Princess." They chorused sweetly before Farah had did her best to undress Anila and place her before the dressmakers without a hint of hesitation.

"Before you were a princess," Farah said lifting Anila's head by her chin, whilst the feeling of silk and furs brush over her skin. Farah saw how the silks wrapped over Anila's tapered waist and small perked breasts; revealing her small and elegant figure that she so longed to have. If Farah wasn't an envious sister, she would've felt a sense of pride when she witnessed what became of Anila, but she felt the unease of her bowels turning to water.

"Before you were a princess," she repeated. She reached first for their mother's most treasured jewel and latched it around Anila's neck.

"Now- you are a queen."

It was of no real surprise that tonight was different. There was an edge in Asharn once darkness flooded the sky and it made the hair behind Anila's neck rise. She had prepared endlessly for this moment, learning more and more of the ceremony that would soon come to pass, and listening to every grave warning and threat by her brother and king Moran to act in a way that befitted a the Queen of Wakanda.

A warm breeze was blowing up the stairs and toward the grand set of golden Asharni doors; it made the fabrics of the women's gowns rustle and sweat beam from their heads.

If Anila had still said she wasn't scared of the man that would soon be her husband, she would have been lying - Anila wanted nothing more than to crawl away and hide in the shadows outside the palace. Unfortunately, that thought had come too late - the grand doors were swept open, and, with a smoothness only one as self-preserved as Anila could exhibit, she strode onto the floor, with the folk of Asharni women behind her.

When she had come into Moran's view; or anyone's for that matter, a smile formed at his lips and his arms widened as though to embrace his youngest sister.

"Sister." Moran said lightly. And with a slow and possessed motion her betrothed that stood - back turned - and aside Moran, glanced over his shoulder and turned completely to her.

"Anila... The Beautiful." Moran smiled again, he placed his hand at the small of her back and ushered her toward her betrothed to merely greet him.

The dressmakers had made sure that their princess looked every part a queen, her gown and jewellery were gold and black with small threads of silver woven in a way that the royal family's crest could be seen. But that wasn't her crowning glory - her face was.

It was only tonight that Erik learnt why they called Anila such a name - Anila meant beautiful and Anila was beautiful. She lived out every syllable of the word without a doubt. W'Kabi was not lying, Erik thought to himself as he attempted on keeping his smile at bay, he was not lying.

"King Killmonger, this is my sister Princess Anila of Asharn, the pearl of my life - your wife." Moran lifted her small and fragile hand and placed it firmly into Erik's palm.

"King Killmonger," Anila whimpered, bowing her head under their watchful eyes.

"Princess... Anila."