I’ve been taken to a large eloquently decorated room, and given orders to bathe and dress for a small social gathering. The helpers assist in my dressing in a close fitting gold and black gown with a silk train on the back. Ma-ma enters the room, quickly shooing the ladies out, and closing the door behind them. “Oh, you look beautiful...”
“What have you done?”
“No, what has your father done? He’s secured you a match with the King.”
“What? I don’t know this man.”
“No, that is why you’ll get to know him. Your father will be here in two weeks time, and he’ll give you away to the King then. You have to marry someone, why not the King of Wakanda?”
“He has bad energy.”
She becomes quiet, solemn.
“Ma-ma... what is it?”
“Give me your hands.”
Placing my hand in her’s, her eyes close, and closing mine’s I read her, as she reads me. My future with the King... “Happiness.” She says, releasing me. “That is all that I want for you.”
“How can I love him, he’s a monster!” She’d read him earlier and reading her, I saw him for what he is. “A cold blooded killer, ma-ma no. Call it off, tell him that you’ve changed your mind.”
“Yes you saw the monster, but what else did you see?”
I saw that I was happy, in love with the “Killer King”.
Placing her hands on my face, she applies a kiss to both cheeks. “Wakanda is a paradise and that’s why you came back, so get it together or you’re going to get kicked out.
She’s right it doesn’t get any better than this, a “queen” and the “Killer King’s” extremely easy on the eyes. “Tell pa-pa to get here soon, it’s best to get it over with quickly.”
“You won’t regret this, my love.”
I already am.
The man never smiles, and watching him train with three other’s, It’s hard not to notice his beautiful wares. A body scarred, impressively strong, well defined chest, I’m definitely a fan. Knocking his opponent off of his feet, the butt of the staff comes down hard on his face.
I’m with the small crowd of onlookers, and we all let loose a small gasp that combined, echos throughout the room. Face bloodied, nose broken, he’s done, leaving the fight with the assistance of two others. The practice continues on, and I have to look away, as his staff barrels into the stomach of one, then swipes the side of the head of the other.
The blow to the head, crumpled the combatant, and he’s dragged away. Eyeing the last man, they circle each other, before attacking. The man holds his own, delivering a blow that knocks Erik backwards a few steps. Serves him right, for being a brute.
Sizing his opponent up wih a menacing glare, the man doesn’t cower. Eric’s hits are powerful, tiring his opponent quickly. “You can beat him!” I can’t help offering him some support, I secretly hope that he wins. My outburst draws his attention, and Erik sweeps him off of his feet, in one move. Landing hard, he goes in for the kill. “Will it kill you, if you show just a little bit of mercy?
My statement traveling over the din of voices, stops his staff from smashing into the man’s face. “You never show mercy to your enemies.”
“You’re taking it too far, this is just sport. Who takes joy in hurting others, or taking lives?”
“There’s no joy in it, just a means to an end.”