“Brother, this is insanity!” called out Shuri, walking after T'Challa in barely concealed rage.
She should not be broadcasting her feelings so loudly as a Wakandan princess, but Shuri did not see why she should bother with hiding them. T'Challa had not hidden his feelings when he had brought these pests to them, and Shuri knew she was not the only one in Wakanda who could not believe the idiocy of their supposed Kings' actions.
“Shuri-” he tried, but Shuri had no interest in allowing him to defend himself.
His actions spoke for themselves.
“No,” she said, trying to keep her temper at bay. She did not miss the few Dora Milaje looking very pleased with her reaction, but she pretended she did not. She was angry at her brother, but not angry enough to incite or promote a coup or treason. “You brought criminals past the borders of Wakanda. Murderers and traitors, and you brought them into our home!”
“They were judged unfairly-”
“And you know this for sure, do you?” asked Shuri, sarcasm dripping from her tongue. “You figured this out before or after you met them for the first time while you yourself were breaking down the borders of other countries and committing crimes?”
At this T’Challa stopped, glaring at her. “I did what I had to do. What I believed I had to do. Baba was murdered in front of my eyes.”
Shuri kept her chin up, trying to act as if those words did not want to extinguish the flame burning in her heart so that she could console herself and her brother.
She missed Baba so much.
“Baba’s fate was in the hands of Bast,” she said, certainly. “It was not your fault, what happened. Nobody here blames you for what Baba suffered because of that criminal from Sokovia. You couldn't have known, and you cannot bend destiny to suit your needs.
“But that did not give you the right to offer sanctuary to criminals and terrorists. To the woman who killed our countrymen in Lagos and did not so much as offer an apology for her mistake. It did not give you the right to bring them in the heart of Wakanda, to put them up in luxurious rooms inside of our home as if they were honoured guests and not criminals that are being looked for everywhere.”
T’Challa’s shoulders went down, but Shuri continued, mercilessly. She should be doing this in the safety of their rooms, but she did not see the harm in letting her people see that she, at the very least, had Wakanda in her mind and heart.
She did not seek the throne, but she had heard the whispers, ever since T’Challa had returned home with the Winter Soldier and Captain Imperialism.
“We are trying to re-integrate Wakanda with the world,” she reminded him. “You wish to continue Baba’s legacy, to let the world see us for how we truly are, to show them how we can help. What do you believe is going to happen when they find out that we, one of the biggest proponents for the Sokovia Accords, have been harbouring the same people the Sokovia Accords have been created and accelerated because of? Or do you foolishly believe that you can keep this hidden? The path of the river is never hidden, brother.”
“I know this,” said T’Challa, irritated. “But not all of them are as guilty as we think they are. We-”
“I am sorry, does the fact that the Winter Soldier was an active assassin for over seventy years become erased only because you tried to murder him when you thought he had killed Baba and now feel bad about it?” she asked, voice dangerously calm. “Does your mistake mean that the Witch did not kill Wakandans and Nigerians in Lagos? Does your lack of judgement mean that the Widow did not attack you and then came here expecting sanctuary - which you provided? Does what you did in Bucharest and after excuse the Captain’s betrayal of his own teammate and his lies regarding his health status?”
“Of course not,” said T’Challa, and Shuri was glad to see that there was some real irritation in his eyes. Perhaps her brother was not yet as gone as she had worried he had been. “I only meant for the Soldier to come here. I wished to make up for my actions against him, by seeing if there was some way for his mind to be healed, so that he did not become a killer for others once more. I did not mean for them to come too.”
“'I did not mean for that to happen' might have worked when we were children, but you are King now,” said Shuri, as kindly as she could.
Seen as her brother was keeping all of Wakanda in danger, there was not much kindness in her voice at all.
“I know,” said T’Challa. “But I couldn’t have sent them away without risking people knowing about the Soldier. And sending them out now is just as risky.”
“It was not your place to offer the Soldier sanctuary as you did,” she told him, shaking her head and raising a hand when he tried to protest. “Peace, brother. I know he cannot be held responsible for many of his actions, that his mind was cuckoo crazy and he did not chose to do any of that. But you were and are not in any position to impose your will and expect it to be respected. You are King of Wakanda, not of the rest of the world. And the rest of the world, not Wakanda, is where the man’s crimes took place.”
“I know,” said T’Challa, sighing. “I know. But there is nothing we can do now. We have to deal with what we- with what I forced upon us. Bast willing, this will not bring the end of Wakanda.”
“Nice to see that you care,” snidely said his sister, and then proceed to walk away from him before he could comeback.
T’Challa did not call her back, for which Shuri was glad.
Not only because she had nothing more to say to him.
But also because he had given her an idea.
+++
“Oh great Goddess Bast, protector of Wakanda,” prayed Shuri, kneeling on the rocks in front of the Panther tree. “I call upon you, for your protection and safety. I call upon you, for your strength and energy. I call upon you, for your wisdom and your advice. Wakanda faces danger, my Goddess, and to you I return for safety and protection. To you I return for strength and energy. To you I return for wisdom and advice. You who have blessed our home, who have kept us safe, who listen to our pain and spread our joy, please hear my prayer.”
Unlike the majority of the other gods and goddesses, Bast often answered Wakanda. She rarely showed herself in the physical realm, but she left often appeared in their dreams, or left them other signs and proofs to deal with whatever was afflicting them.
Shuri must have done something right however, because the Panther herself showed up only moments after Shuri’s prayer, clever blue eyes fixed on her and her black fur looking it was made of precious gemstones and glitter. She looked like the most majestic of panthers, and Shuri bowed before she could even speak.
“Princess.”
“Bast,” she said, a little awed. She had only seen her twice in real life, when her father had prayed to her, and today was just as amazing as it had been before. “I am your humble servant.”
“What troubles you, my Princess? What troubles Wakanda?”
“My brother, he...” Shuri, sighed, and then shook her head. “He did not do it on purpose, Bast. He only wished to rectify his mistakes. But he brought enemies to Wakanda.”
Bast remained silent as Shuri explained everything, starting from the Witch and the Captain’s mistakes in Lagos, all the way to them now currently hiding in their castle, in the heart of Wakanda.
“That is much more than a mistake, Shuri.”
Shuri lowered her head. “I know, Bast. But he-”
“I do not need to hear your excuses for him,” said the Panther, standing up on four legs and watching the castle in the distance with focused feline eyes. “He shall face my judgement himself.”
Only the fact that Bast had never once before killed a person in Wakanda stopped Shuri from panicking or begging her to spare her brother.
He had fucked up royally, mind you.
But he was still her brother. Or whatever.
Then Bast glanced away from the castle, and up to the sky above them. It was early evening, but the moon was already visible and Bast gazed at it.
“Your brother thinks some of them might be innocent. I wish to hear what He who protects the travellers of the night and brings his vengeance to those who would do them harm has to say.”
Shuri’s eyes widened. “You do not mean-”
“She does mean,” said a voice, and Shuri immediately bowed even before she could set her eyes on the god Khonshu.
Bast was the goddess protector of Wakanda, but in Wakanda they respected all the gods in the Egyptian Pantheon.
And Khonshu, with his ghastly beak and mummy-like appearance, was one of them.
Shuri had never had the dubious pleasure of meeting him before, and she couldn’t quite hide her shudder and immediate anxiety when she set her eyes in the dark, burning sockets his eyes should have been in.
“Wakanda,” said Khonshu, not even glancing at Shuri. His eyes were on Bast. “You would bring me on this land, after you have, again and again, prohibited me to bring my Vengeance against any of them, even after King T’Chaka-”
“Enough,” said Bast, while Shuri frowned. What were they saying about Baba? “I wish for your judgement on the prisoners King T’Challa brought in the castle.”
“The criminals that the Prince of Wakanda is hiding from justice,” corrected Khonshu. “Knowingly and willingly.”
“Keep your judgement of the King to yourself,” said Bast, canines showing in a snarl. “This is not what I asked of you.”
“You have no right to ask me for anything, Bast.”
“Does this mean that you will not let them face judgement for their actions? I thought you were fond of Osiris’ avatar.”
Khonshu made a strange sound, as he glanced at the castle. “I wanted him as my own,” he corrected. “Before he woke.”
“So?”
He looked at Bast for a second, and then he turned to Shuri. She did not cringe, but she could not hide the fear in her as those eyes burned through her and her soul.
“You should be Queen of this place,” he told her. “You know better than the idiot who Bast-”
“Khonshu.”
“Humph,” said Khonshu, and finally looked away.
Shuri’s knees felt weak.
“Moonknight will come. He won’t touch those under your protection. He will judge for me, and he will bring my vengeance to those who would do harm to the travellers of the night.”
“That’s all I ask,” said Bast, and she almost sounded mocking when she said that.
Khonshu seemed to think so too.
“One day, one way, my judgement will come, Bast.”
“Today is not that day.”
The two gods shared a longer eye contact, and then Khonshu made another sound of disapproval before he disappeared.
“Wow,” said Shuri, as soon as he was gone. “That was adequately terrifying.”
But when she turned around, Bast was gone too.
The man appeared between a moment and the next.
Scott had been sitting on the couch, ignoring the others’ complaints as he watched the news and tried not to feel completely depressed the more he heard.
He had screwed up.
No, actually. He had royally fucked up.
The more he heard, the more the news and the world governments demonised them, the more he realised that he had completely and utterly fucked up.
And the willing ignorance the rest of his so called team continued to display only served to piss him off more.
How could they see what they had done, hear people’s fear and anger, see the leaked medical records of Tony Stark and not immediately think that they were done for?
At least Sam had woken up. As soon as the medical records had ended up on the news despite Steve saying that Tony had attacked first and that Steve had had to disable the suit before leaving, he had realised that Steve was not telling them the whole truth, and taken several steps away from the others.
Natasha also seemed to have realised that the wind was not blowing the way she had thought it would. She was still with them, but Scott had done enough disappearing acts himself to know that she was planning on ditching them soon enough.
Why she was with them in the first place Scott was not even sure, since there was footage of her attacking T’Challa even though she had been on his team beforehand.
The others were not interested in reason or sense. They seemed content to continue enabling their shared dislike of Tony Stark and their personal delusions about how they’d be needed again and how things would go back to normal soon enough.
Scott wasn’t sure if he wished he could relate to their lack of awareness or if it scared him.
“Typical of Stark,” said Maximoff, sneering at the screen. “Usually he leaves things to Steve to deal with, but now that Steve isn’t around he hides so that he can lick his wounds.”
“Wanda,” said the Captain, sounding amused. “Tony is just... he’s just not like me. But he did do a lot for the Avengers.”
“We would have been better off without him,” said Maximoff, glaring. “When we get back, I don’t want to have to see him ever again.”
“Don’t worry,” said Barton, looking angrily at the screen. “He won’t dare do anything to us. Steve will make sure.”
Scott bit his tongue hard enough to taste blood, but that still did not stop him from blurting out, “You do realise that without him you have nothing, right?”
“What?” asked Clint, while Wanda scowled at him.
“The Avengers jets are his. The Compound was an old SI warehouse, which is his. All the Avengers money is just Tony’s money. He fixes your gear. He pays for everything. How are you going to afford anything without him?” he asked, unable to help himself. “He can do whatever he wants without you lot. The same cannot be said of the opposite.”
“Tony needs us,” said Natasha, once more sliding between the cracks so that she could play both sides of the argument. “I don’t expect you to know how we work, but Tony does need us. And we need him, it’s true.”
“Like a bullet in the head!” snapped Barton, glaring.
“That can be arranged.”
One thing about the Avengers: they knew how to fight.
No one apart from Scott flinched, all of them immediately up on their feet in battle positions, even Natasha and Sam.
“Jesus,” said Scott, taking a couple of steps back when he was face with a white masked mummy with glowing eyes. “What the fuck is that?”
“I am the Avatar of Khonshu,” said the masked individual, somehow making himself audible through the sheet over his face. “I swore to protect the travellers of the night and bring Khonshu’s Vengeance to those who would do them harm. I am Moon Knight, and I am here to pass your judgement.”
Scott did not think that sounded promising.
Maximoff seemed to think the same, since she immediately went on the offensive, throwing a red ball of energy straight at the man.
Scott did not even manage to ask her to stop (they had seen what the woman’s powers were capable of, and they did not even know if the man was actually evil yet), before the magic hit him.
Neither Clint, Natasha or Steve looked worried about the attack against the man, which did not endear them to Scott at all.
But then their expressions changed, as when the cloud of red impacted, the Moon Knight dude did not so much as flinch.
“What?” said Maximoff, staring at him in shock.
“The judgement has been cast,” said Moon Knight, calmly. “Scott Lang and Sam Wilson are not guilty of knowingly harming the travellers of the night. Their judgement is not in my hands.”
“What the fuck-”
He reached for the moon crest over his chest, and pulled out two waning crescent shaped... things. “Clint Barton, Wanda Maximoff, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff: you are guilty. And your sentence is death.”
Scott could not have told you what happened after.
He was not a super soldier, and without his suit he was virtually useless.
All he knew was that he did not have time to blink before this Moon Knight person's crescents cut through both of Maximoff’s wrists at the same time.
There were screams - from everyone, him included - and then everything was a chaos of fighting and blood.
Scott didn’t have any shame in saying that he dove under the nearest corner and hoped that ‘not guilty’ meant he was not dying.
When the dust settled and the screaming stopped, only then did Scott open his eyes.
He immediately wished he hadn’t.
Moon Knight was the only one still standing, his half moons in his hands and covered in blood. The floor was drenched in pools of blood, and he could see Romanoff’s bodyless head, and yup.
That was his breakfast wanting to come out.
“You are for now protected from Khonshu’s vengeance,” said Moon Knight, calmly. Like he hadn't just killed two of the Avengers' strongest hitters with just two half moon and without breaking a sweat. “You are not guilty of what he protects against. But make no mistake: you are guilty. Repent, before judgement is called upon you again.”
“What,” started Sam, and Scott could have cried. Sam sounded terrified but he was alive. Scott wasn’t alone. “What are you?”
“I am Moon Knight,” said Moon Knight.
And then, he walked out of the room.
Leaving Sam and Scott alone with the bodies of four of their former allies.
Scott felt he was entitled to throw up as soon as he was gone.