Chapter Text
Her body stumbles on the platform, fighting to stay on her two feet.
A groan leaves her throat and some type of calm settles around her.
The colonizer is laying a few feet from her and hopefully, the Dora will take him away soon.
Shuri takes a deep breath while the helmet crawls away from her face.
A wave of pain attacks her and for a few seconds, she is paralyzed in pain.
Her exhausted eyes notice her chest and abdomen, her whole suit.
Bullets weren’t supposed to affect her, yet colonizers found vibranium and in little time, they created a prototype they were eager to use. What is better than a field test in which they won’t need to make paperwork because it was authorized by the government?
They attacked Wakanda with the excuse that they represented a danger to the world, that unknowledge and science and vibranium (especially vibranium) had to be shared. Shuri, as Queen of Wakanda, tried to stop them, and reason with them, but again, what should she expect from countries that enslaved her brothers and sisters?
Silent tears fall, and a quiet sob escapes between her gritted teeth.
She failed her people. She wasn’t strong enough to stop them before they tried to invade.
She put her faith in someone who was her enemy once. Someone, she learned to trust the hard way.
It was too late.
Her body stumbles again and this time she can’t hold it.
She falls backward, and the river, like a welcoming mother, takes her in.
It's ironic she thinks. She was to die like her mother.
Because she was certain that she was about to die. She is sure that no one has hurtled her like this, not since Namor.
She was alone, drowning. There was no one else besides the evil colonizer up there and the soil below her and the river consuming her and the sun and the air and the sky mocking her and her heartbeat counting down to her death and the pain, the excruciating, awful, and delicious pain.
At least, she was to die after defending Wakanda, at least, if she died, she would see her family. Utata, Umama, T’Challa.
She was going to leave so much behind, but…it was better this way. She was going to die so her people could fight another day, so they could protect the world from itself.
Shuri doesn’t regret anything, not at all. Maybe she regrets not spending more time with her nephew or maybe not giving more hugs to Nakia or teasing Okoye more or getting in trouble with Aneka.
Maybe she regrets not telling him that she doesn’t actually hate him.
That she did at the beginning, but then they made their alliance, and they helped each other so much that Wakanda and Talokan become the same place and people.
She regrets telling him that she hates him. She has always been too proud to admit when he was right or to even accept that hate wasn’t the right word to describe how she felt for him.
But now is too late.
The pain is paralyzing her.
She can’t move.
Shuri accepts her fate, the one where she will become one with this river.
Shuri of Wakanda, a genius, a Queen, the Black Panther, was to die defending the land of her ancestors like the first Panther did as her brother did as her father did.
Uzuko kwizinyamya!
Her heartbeat starts slowing down and exhaustion starts taking over her head. She swears she can hear them, singing to her, welcoming her to their land where she was going to be free at last.
She could almost see her mother’s face.
She could almost touch her brother’s hand.
Till she heard her name.
Till she heard her name like the chant of a siren.
Then arms grab her. Strong, warm, familiar arms.
They pull her out of her mother’s arms for the second time in her life. (First was when he ripped the life off her).
He calls her name again when her lungs make contact with air, and she can breathe a little bit.
But everything still hurts.
She opens her eyes and finds a familiar face.
He is against the sun and is dripping wet, so he looks like a god she will definitely worship without hesitation.
His brown eyes are watching her with turmoil and pleasure, his hand is moving her curls away from her face. He is repeating her name like a chant, and she lets him.
Slowly she rises her hand till she can feel his facial hair through her Panther claws (ironically the same ones she used to mark him).
His eyes change. They become softer than the dresses she wears when she visits Talokan.
Her mouth opens but nothing comes out.
A sudden pain rips her from the inside and she can’t do it anymore.
Her mother calls her at the same time he whispers her name.
Her body goes numb before she can get the words through her throat.