Chapter Text
N’Jadaka was right. He had been right all along.
Maybe not about everything.
But this . Her cousin had been absolutely correct about violence. It was as much a mean as it was an end. Shuri could easily lose herself in it, become anesthetized to everything around her. It was as if she put her mind in the back seat and allowed intuition and mindless instinct to take over.
“Again.”
She used to despise this kind of subterfuge, believing that one should be in charge of one’s actions and mind at all times. No excuses. But that had been before.
Before her world had been torn apart, piece by piece; before her family had been scattered to the wind and each member became only a bittersweet memory; before the burden of leadership had been unceremoniously thrust upon her; before an entire nation had become her responsibility.
In one swift motion, Shuri disarmed and knocked down her challenger.
“Again.”
She had lost track of time. Shuri had been taking turns with the Dora in their training grounds.Losing herself in senseless exertion had turned into the best escape from reality ( her reality, at least ). The further she could get from the grief and the void that threatened to swallow her entirely, the better. Shuri needed all the small reprieves she could find.
In the blink of an eye, Shuri swept another’s feet from under them, and kicked the staff away.
“Again!” - she ordered, breathless and severe.
From the corner of her eye, she could see some of the Dora Milaje shifting uneasily on their feet, others rubbing sore spots from their tumbles in the mat. Okoye had kept herself out of the roster so far, only observing from the sidelines. Her expression was hard and her gaze was intently trained upon Shuri’s heaving form.
One of the royal guards stepped up to the mat, positioning herself to start another round. The former princess sighed, pleased that she could prolong this numbing feeling a while longer.
Shuri now sported several purple bruises, a few red welts on her forearms and hands and she was pretty sure there was a cracked rib somewhere, but it still felt like she was nowhere near done. She assessed her condition while waiting for the first movement from her opponent. Having always been a warrior of the mind instead of the body, training and practicing combat had always seemed like a waste of one's time and a shameful waste of one's physical integrity. Logically, Shuri knew that warriors had to practice in order to master skills and learn how to carry themselves in a conflict, but she'd always frowned upon people taking pleasure in such activities. One shouldn't dole out violence and savagery for the sake of it. It should always serve a worthy purpose and be exacted accordingly.
How she longed for those simpler days, when her family was whole and there wasn't an infected wound in her soul and she was sheltered enough that she could hold those narrow and idealistic views.
Shuri was brought back to the present moment by a fist barely grazing her shoulder. With feline grace and speed, she grabbed the offending limb and twisted it behind its owner's back, effectively immobilizing them.
"Ag-"
"Enough," - Okoye interrupted, - "you are all dismissed. I am extremely disappointed with what I saw today, sisters." - she chastised, looking each one in the eye - "Seasoned warriors being dispatched with nary an effort. We shall go over your regiment of training first thing in the morning." - there was some muffled groaning and some shuffling before the lines broke and all the Dora Milaje left the room.
Shuri watched, half displeased, half amused, the scene unfolding while she undid the wrappings on her wrists. When the general turned her sharp gaze upon her once more, the panther could hold back an eye roll.
"Don't be too hard on them, general. You and I know that it wasn't a fair fight." - peeling the last of the rough bands from her arms and dropping them on the floor, Shuri expertly maneuvered a forgotten staff with her foot and kicked it up, easily catching it with her left hand.
"I could hear an argument for leniency when it comes to the rookies, but it is disgraceful for an instructor to see her students - veterans mind you - so ridiculously outmatched and outwitted. It won't do."
"Then maybe you and I should go a few rounds," - she threw the commander a taunting look - "see how the Black Panther contends with the elite of the Dora Milaje."
It was a long shot, but worth trying. Okoye would unquestionably prove to be a much greater challenge than anyone in the ranks of the royal guard. She would definitely even out Shuri's enhanced abilities with her own extensive experience. Which was the point of all this. Keeping her mind as closely tied to the here and now as possible.
"Oh, we could, my queen," - Shuri frowned severely at the title, having grown tired of setting the record straight ( she was nobody's princess, nor queen ) - "but I have lost my appetite for senseless violence. Time has taught me to save it for when it's the last option."
"Pity."
"I agree. It is a pity to see such worthy fighters lose themselves in such foolish pursuits."
And there it was. What she knew was coming ever since the general had set foot in the room.
Admittedly, this single-minded dedication to the physical aspect of her training had been going on for quite some time. She'd just hoped that Okoye would choose to continue to turn a blind eye to it until Shuri had gotten it out of her system ( she knew better than that, surely ).
Her face twisted in an impatient frown and Shuri turned to walk away, being in no mood for yet another talk ( lecture, more likely ) about needing to let herself feel her grief and work her way through it. Shuri stalked off the mat, towards the large wooden doors of the training room.
“This has been going on for too long, my quee-’
“I am not your queen, Okoye,” - Shuri forcefully stated, still and facing the door; she felt the older woman approaching her from behind and straightened up her posture and spoke out, before any other word came from the general - “and I am fine.” - she said after a pause, turning her head slightly over her shoulder.
“You are a daughter and sister of kings and queens- “
“And none of them are here anymore. So I would appreciate being spared the reminder.”
“Very well.” - Okoye relented and Shuri had the distinct impression the general bit back the last word of that sentence. - “It is important to focus on your physical prowess for battle and I commend you for the impressive improvement in this regard, but there is more to being the protector of Wakanda than smacking your enemies around.”
How would you know anything about it? You've only ever served the throne, with little care for what goes on beyond these walls.
The point of focusing on the physical aspect of it was precisely to avoid everything else that with the responsibility. It appeared that she'd milked that cow dry. Heaving a tired, halting sigh, Shuri glanced back.
“It’s the only time I don’t feel like I’m drowning in sorrow or burning with rage. It-” - the staff in her hand cracked under the pressure of her grip - “grounds me.”
“And no one would begrudge you that small comfort, however cold it may be, certainly not me .” - a warm hand pressed soothingly on her shoulder - “All I ask is that you don’t lose sight of why or how you wear that mantle.”
“You ask for too much, general.” - was her response, attempting to dispel the somber tone of the conversation - “But I’ll try. Promise.”
Shuri moved swiftly towards the door, needing to put some distance between herself and the added guilt that came from seeing the few remaining precious people in her life worrying about her possible self-destructive tendencies.
—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The irony never escaped him.
He would always find her as if following the chilling call of a siren. Her , the siren, and him , the bewitched soul bound to follow. It was poetic, in a harrowing way.
Here he was, in an unremarkable beach of a populated island somewhere in the Caribbean sea ( so he had learned their designations for some parts of the sea ). Namor could see distinct signs of human occupation along the coastline - fishing boats moored, wooden piers stretching far into the sea, scattered houses along the white sand line and some scarce inhabitants going about their days blissfully ignorant of being watched.
And yet, his beacon was nowhere to be found.
The sun was setting on the horizon behind him, a multitude of orange and pink and red hues dyeing the Caribbean sky. Glancing up and around, Namor saw the display as if it were the first time. In another life, in another time, he could see himself surrounded by this spectacle with nary a care in the world.
“Auntie! Come get me!”
An excited child cried from the shore and drew back his attention. The beach was deserted, all other occupants having retreated back to their homes, save for one small figure sprinting as fast as his short legs could carry him, kicking up sand as he went. He kept looking backwards, as if expecting someone to be chasing him, right on his heels. The figure must’ve been far behind, for Namor couldn’t see even a shadow.
He glanced back at the kid, noting the healthy glow of sweat on his skin, the eager smile that stayed on despite the physical exertion, the pure joy that seemed to exude from his being. The scene brought forth an unexpected serenity to the god’s soul.
Despite all the horrors of this world, there is still wonder to be protected.
At last, another person came up over the hill of sand at a much slower pace. Completely at ease, the figure appeared content to just keep an eye on the boy. They had their arms behind their back and sandals in their hands.
“I have my eye on you, Toussaint!”
That voice.
The siren’s call at last.
Namor felt his chest tighten as Shuri’s form became clearer. The same slender frame, the same graceful gait, the same radiant dark skin.
At last.
He began moving towards the shallows as he watched the boy pick something up from the sand and run back to the princess. She dropped down to his level to inspect whatever the boy was enthusiastically showing her. As Namor got closer, he saw Shuri draw the child into her arms in what seemed to be an incredibly loving embrace.
The boy in her arms had his back to the sea and Shuri had her face towards it. Looking closely, Namor saw that her eyes were closed and her expression was that of contentment and pure affection. She held onto the boy with such care and warmth, keeping his frame tucked right under her chin, with a small, adoring smile on her lips.
Namor was struck with sudden longing. Images of a serious child, with dark curls and golden skin, covered in jade and draped in regalia, bridging two civilizations that had come close to mutual destruction. A goddess as above so below.
That could be my child. Our child. That could be our future.
As soon as his feet touched the ground in the shallows and he took the first step towards the pair, sharp, dark eyes zeroed in on his form. The slightest splash of water was enough to draw the Black Panther's attention to him. Namor wasn't shocked. Even if she seemed disconnected from her surroundings, he knew that Shuri was deeply and completely in tune with every sound, every movement and every shift happening around her.
Even from her crouched position, he could see her entire body tensing, locking in and ready to react in a split second. Gone was the tranquil expression and sweet smile. Her expression now was completely closed off and focused, her jaw set in a grimm line.
He was at the edge of the water, less than thirty paces from their figures, when he saw Shuri drawing the boy away from her body, at arm's length.
" Sthandwa , listen to me." - she addressed the boy seriously, - "You will go straight home and tell your mother that I will be there shortly. Do not linger, do not look back. Understand?"
The child appeared to pick up the tension in the woman's voice and posture, for he frowned, confused, and turned his head to follow her line of sight. Upon seeing the man in the water, the boy's expression turned slightly alarmed.
"Why won't you come with me, makazi ?"
"I need to speak with this man." - she stood and guided the boy away from Namor, tucking him behind her. - "Now go, Toussaint."
He hesitated for a second or two and then took off. He ran back to where they came from, disappearing from view.
"What's wrong? Have the Americans returned?"
Namor tilted his head, entirely confused. Why would she ask about the Americans? Reading the bewilderment clear on his face, Shuri huffed impatiently.
"Why else would you be here, if not to make good on our agreement?"
Her words, her tone and her bearing spoke volumes of her feelings on the matter. She did not want him here. She wished him gone from her sight. He had a long way to go.
Closing the remaining distance between them, Namor came to stand directly in front of her. Time had only been kind to her. She was the same, yet different. Still nimble and graceful, her frame had grown sturdier, limbs corded with slender muscles. Shuri stood taller, straighter, as if the weight of the responsibility she inherited (that was unceremoniously thrusted upon) had only ushered her to the place she was meant to take.
“No, itzia, there haven’t been any problems with any surface dwellers.” - he answered at last, his eyes moving across her face. - “Do you really believe strife is the only thing that would lead me to you?” - his hand reached for hers. She seemed to tense up even more, but didn’t immediately retract her hand.
“ Realistically speaking, yes. I can think of no other reason for you to be here.” - the vehemence with which she spoke betrayed her feigned ignorance. Namor would need to tread lightly; if he pressed too much or too fast, Shuri would pull back and shut down any further contact from him. He lightly tightened his hold.
“There is only one reality and your denial of it doesn’t change my intentions and inclinations.” - straightforward, but tactful.
“There have recently been events of cosmic proportions that would challenge your assertion.”
“You will run out of dodges eventually, itzia.” - he couldn’t hold back a tiny smirk.
He had the distinct impression that she was blushing, though the dark hue of her skin made it impossible to be sure. Impatience now overruled the distrust in her expression.
“I do not know why you are here, Namor-” - hearing her calling him that made his good mood vanish; he frowned and tugged her slightly closer -”and I do not want to know. If there’s nothing wrong with Talokan, and I haven’t summoned you, I see no reason why you should stay.”
“Must you insist on referring to me as your enemy?”
“What motive have you given me to see you differently?” - Shuri pulled her hand free, but didn’t move away. She was slightly breathless and her stance suggested that this outburst had been brewing for quite a while. So let’s have it out.
“Have I not proven my honor? Have I given you reason to distrust my words or my actions?”
“You have given me every reason to distrust you! You attacked my home! You terrorized my people! You murdered my mother in an attempt to force my hand!” - her voice raised as the accusations became gradually more serious. - “How is it possible that you think I would set all of that aside?”
Namor clenched his fists and swallowed the bitter taste of accountability.
“Forgive me, princ-”
“ Do not apologize for something you do not regret! You have no right to ask for forgiveness!” - he could now see clearly every moment of anguish and every nightmare that his actions had caused her.
“I regret causing you pain, Shuri.” - he spoke up, pouring as much sincerity in his voice as he could, - “I regret tainting whatever could have been, whatever could still be between us with grief and sorrow.” - Shuri paused her frantic pacing and turned back to him, her face frozen somewhere between shock and outrage.
“What could still be?” - she quickly closed the distance between them - “Do you honestly believe there’s room for anything other than tenuous collaboration between us? Between our peoples,our kingdoms?”
“Yes! I believe there’s room for greatness, for partnership, for affection, for love between us!” - Namor was contaminated by her agitation, - “Shuri, I long for you. I look at you and I see my future. I see the light after being trapped in the dark for a lifetime!” - he had grasped her arms, bringing her even closer, so she could see it in his eyes: there were no lies.
“You would have me completely disregard everything that happened between us and simply give in to what? Your lust?”
“Do not belittle what I feel for you, Shuri! It is not mere lust. I don’t want you only to sate some carnal urge. I would give you all that I am. I would imprint you on every single part of my life and my kingdom.” - Namor brought her closer still, completely closing the remaining gap between them. Shuri splayed her hands on his chest, seemingly torn between pushing him away and leaning in for support - "And I would not have you disregard anything that’s happened between us. Our history can never be undone, but it can made into the strongest tether between two souls.”
All fight seemed to leave her at once. She sighed dejectedly and dropped her gaze. Trembling faintly, she drew a shallow breath.
“I trusted you.” - she spoke in a small voice, - “I trusted you and you took from me the only thing I had left.”
“Shuri, I cannot change the past and I cannot bring back the family I took from you. But I can give you a new one. I would keep you in my heart and under my skin." - he tilted her head up with a light touch under her chin - "I would chase away the shadows from your eyes and fill any void with my love."