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dorksidefikerTitle: Denial
Author:dorksidefiker
Fandom: That Damn Mpreg
Table/Prompt: Table 4/24. Agast
Character/Pairing: Princess Iris, Genevieve Abidemi
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 291
Summary: The princess of Wakanda finds it hard to believe that the avatar of the Panther God isn’t leaping at the chance to help.
Authors Notes/Disclaimer: Mine.
Genevieve Abidemi held the cup of green tea up beneath her nose and inhaled the steam, letting the warmth of it wash over her before smiling sweetly at the Wakandan princess watching her expectantly. “Your whole country could burn to the ground,” she said, the Welsh vowels making her words oddly musical, “and I would not care.”
Iris just stared at the tan skinned woman as she sipped her tea, then stirred more sugar in, making it the fifth spoon full she’d added since Iris had arrived. “You’re the Avatar of the Panther God!” she sputtered.
Genevieve looked at the princess, her blue eyes cold. “When I first found out about that little tidbit, I was also told that my mother couldn’t come with me to Wakanda while the shamans were testing me. They treated my father the way I treat the stuff I find at the bottom of my shoes. I have never willingly gone to your country, and I never will.”
“You have a duty. These are your people!” Iris said, obviously frustrated, the pitch of her voice rising with every word. The spoon Genevieve’s cup rattled as she added yet more sugar.
“If I weren’t the Avatar of the Panther, I would be as unwelcome in Wakanda as my parents. I’m Welsh, Your Highness. I owe your people nothing. Now, on your bike.”
“Things have changed since you were a child,” Iris protested.
“Not enough.”
Author:
dorksidefikerFandom: That Damn Mpreg
Table/Prompt: Table 4/24. Agast
Character/Pairing: Princess Iris, Genevieve Abidemi
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 291
Summary: The princess of Wakanda finds it hard to believe that the avatar of the Panther God isn’t leaping at the chance to help.
Authors Notes/Disclaimer: Mine.
Genevieve Abidemi held the cup of green tea up beneath her nose and inhaled the steam, letting the warmth of it wash over her before smiling sweetly at the Wakandan princess watching her expectantly. “Your whole country could burn to the ground,” she said, the Welsh vowels making her words oddly musical, “and I would not care.”
Iris just stared at the tan skinned woman as she sipped her tea, then stirred more sugar in, making it the fifth spoon full she’d added since Iris had arrived. “You’re the Avatar of the Panther God!” she sputtered.
Genevieve looked at the princess, her blue eyes cold. “When I first found out about that little tidbit, I was also told that my mother couldn’t come with me to Wakanda while the shamans were testing me. They treated my father the way I treat the stuff I find at the bottom of my shoes. I have never willingly gone to your country, and I never will.”
“You have a duty. These are your people!” Iris said, obviously frustrated, the pitch of her voice rising with every word. The spoon Genevieve’s cup rattled as she added yet more sugar.
“If I weren’t the Avatar of the Panther, I would be as unwelcome in Wakanda as my parents. I’m Welsh, Your Highness. I owe your people nothing. Now, on your bike.”
“Things have changed since you were a child,” Iris protested.
“Not enough.”