Chapter Text
A man with an eyepatch proclaiming to be the God of something stood before T’Challa.
Shuri watched with interest, leaning against a pillar in Stark Tower, as the two seemed to size each other up.
She had the nagging urge to point to this white guy’s face and tell him he had something on it. He was covered in mud, and it was caked to his neck, seeping into his hair. Her eyes darted to the spaceship from which he’d just disembarked. It had nothing on the new fleet of assistance-jets she’d been designing for their global outreach programme. Whoever’d designed it had obviously never heard of subtlety. It was a garish, bulky thing, that’d made a hideous noise when it landed.
If this man was a God as he proclaimed, why was he parading as the cartoon definition for a pirate? Back home, she’d have him healed in minutes. Interesting choice for a God. Shuri resisted voicing any of these thoughts, and instead settled for a disapproving click of her tongue. She saw her brother’s ears move in a way that let her know, even with his back to her, that he was smiling at the sound.
“You seem unimpressed,” the voice startled Shuri. Turning, she saw it was that insect-boy, who looked even younger than her. He was wearing his special suit, the cowl down so she could see his face. That suit needs the Shuri-touch, she thought with a grin.
“One does not simply impress a Wakandan,” she replied, nonchalant, turning back to the encounter before her.
In truth, the past 24 hours had been something of a whirlwind. She’d been at home with a rapidly-healing Sergeant Barnes yesterday when that purple thing had come into range of their satellites, and now they were in New York City, surrounded by masked heroes at every turn.
The Black Panther she was used to, and she was proud of her brother, at the Wakanda he showed to the world, but all these people? People who spoke over each other in many voices, and who she suspected had all come from homes much less forgiving than hers, with their layered motives and crippling egos? People that she’d never imagined existing, no more real than any cartoon?
Some of them weren’t even people, for Bast’s sake! The pirate-god had picked up an entourage that included a racoon and a tree! And that hadn’t even been the strangest part of her day.
Iron Man had given her access to his lab.
She’d seen the Black Widow playing chess with the warrior they called the Valkyrie (the latter of the two and Okoye had given each other approving glances at each other’s armour).
The last she’d seen of Captain Rogers, he and a recently-reunited Bucky had been trying and failing to catch a quiet moment alone, but had been ambushed by a very confused, and very starstruck man who introduced himself as ‘Star-Lord’, and was parading around in a funky ’80s cosplay.
Shuri’s head was buzzing with the influx of information, she had a thousand ideas on updates for practically every fighter’s gear in the vicinity.
“One does not…” Spider-man started to repeat. Peter, Shuri remembered, roused from her rollercoaster of thoughts, that’s his name. She’d met so many people in the past few hours. “Are you quoting the Mordor meme at me?” Shuri looked back at him in surprise. Huh, this could be fun.
Catching a reference was a surefire way to get on the track to her royal approval. T’Challa often laughed at this oddly-specific standard of hers. It hadn’t failed her yet though. Maybe that’s why I don’t trust these aliens, she mused, no common meme-ground. She laughed to herself at the sheer weirdness of the thought. Peter looked rather pleased with himself. Ah, he thought I was laughing at him. I hope he doesn’t misunderstand me. The bold girl in the florescent Converse boots he’d arrived at the tower with, MJ, was more her speed. She’d seemed about as unaffected by all this as Shuri was pretending to be. She wondered where she’d wandered off to.
Shuri gave Peter a small grin and excused herself with an apology that would even satisfy her mother’s etiquette standards, walking forwards until she was level with T’Challa.
Time to meet this pirate-god for herself.
“Thor, I am honoured to present my little sister, Princess Shuri of Wakanda,” T’Challa said, all formalities. No wonder the elders love him so much. “Shuri, this is Thor Odinson, King of Asgard, God of Thunder.” She knew the stories about him, of course. Had followed along avidly, in fact, when Dr. Foster had published her work on the ‘Peculiarities of New Mexico’, and read between the lines even then. She’d seen the footage. New York. London. Sokovia.
But face to face with him, this apparent god, all that came from her mouth was, “You’ve cut your hair. Is it to match the aesthetic of the eye-patch?” T’Challa made a choking noise, grasping onto Shuri’s arm. Thor looked at her, brows drawn tightly together for a second in examination, then threw his head back, letting out a rumbling laugh that sent static electricity skittering down Shuri’s neck. Thunderous indeed.
“I like this one, brother Panther,” Thor boomed to T’Challa, his tone jovial. His accent reminded Shuri of her Baba’s English impersonation. The parallel made her smile. Thor held out his hand for Shuri to shake, and she grasped it firmly, determined not to be the first to breakaway.
“This one has about fifty improvements to make to your little costume,” Shuri retorted. “You can’t go to battle dressed like a pirate that’s been shipwrecked.” Thor gave an awkward grin at this, almost sheepish, as if realising his mistake in talking about Shuri as if she weren’t present.
“Lead the way, your highness,” Thor said apologetically. T’Challa stepped back, smirking as he allowed his sister to take control, watching as she marched away with a God in tow.
“And brother!” She called back to him, “bring the trickster with the antlers from the ship too, I can’t bear to look at that fancy-dress for any longer.” Thor’s laughter reverberated along the hallways of the tower.
Shuri was already forming a dozen possible designs in her head. Stark’s lab wasn’t as savvy as hers, but she could make it work.
Turning the corner, she saw MJ, who gave her a nod of recognition. Shuri felt a flutter in her chest, managing just about to bow her head quickly in return. Thor looked between the two of them with curiosity. Shuri gave him a stare that dared him to say something.
The princess and the God got into the elevator.
“Laboratory,” Shuri instructed.
“Right away, your highness,” The lilting voice of Tony’s AI replied.
This was going to be fun.