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Chapter Text

"I will make you a promise, Princess," Namor whispers, his grip on the spear tightening as he plunges it deeper into her side. "You will not die from this, and one day, whether it be one year or a thousand, you will take your place by my side."

"I will die before I ever agree to such madness," Shuri gasps.

The pain is unlike anything she has ever felt, robbing her of breath. She grits her teeth, her claws prying at the spear's staff, trying futilely to pull it out. It will not budge, not with Namor baring down on it. Desperation bubbles inside her, a geyser threatening to erupt. Not far from her, her people are fighting his. The ocean is turning red with spilt blood. Her people's battle cries drowned by the wails of the wounded and crash of the waves.  

Namor twists the spear. Agony is like lightning through her veins, a cry ripping from her throat. Her world was spinning, blurs of sandy beaches, periwinkle skies and a monster in the guise of a man. She thinks of nothing more than slicing her claws into his flesh and disproving his supposed divinity with streaks of blood racing down his torso. 

"I am a man of my word. I warned you and your mother that there is no in-between. We are either allies or enemies. Wakanda will now be the first to fall." He tilts his head as he looks at her, something close to regret in his eyes. "It could have been different. You and your people did not have to suffer if you had accepted our friendship."

"No friendship can be forged through threats," Shuri snarls.

"When your righteous anger has exhausted your very being, when your people's pain has whittled you down to the bone, you will regret not allying yourself with Talokan. With me. The world you seek to protect does not care for you. They will descend upon you like vultures once they sense your weakness. If this is a lesson you have to learn the hard way, so be it."

The edges of Shuri's vision is growing dimmer, the colours fading. The last thing to blur into darkness is Namor's face, the sound of his voice the last thing she hears. Shuri feels a warm touch upon her cheek as her eyes close, the last of her energy drained.

"I will wait for you to learn it, my Queen."

Wakanda does not win. 

The battle ends when Namor appears on the highest point of the ship, the Queen of Wakanda carried unconscious in his arms.  

The small band of Wakandan warriors still fighting are corned at the edge of the ship. They cry out for their Queen as the Talokanil rejoices the victory of their King. The Wakandans can do nothing as Namor approaches, his warriors parting like the waves. Carefully, Namor places Wakanda's protector before them. 

Okoye is the first to push her way through the crowds to Shuri's side. She falls to her knees beside Shuri and pulls the girl into her arms.

Namor watches impassively before turning his attention to the rest of the Wakandans. He tells them to take their Queen home. That all of this could have been avoided had they only accepted what he had offered. Had their foolish former King not so recklessly revealed Wakanda and its vibranium to the world. Had their former Queen not ruthlessly slain two innocent handmaidens to save her daughter who he had promised not to hurt so long as no threats to his people were made. 

Everything could have been different. 

If Wakanda had just chosen to see sense, rather than defend those who would turn on them. 

"This is only the second battle, the war is still to come," Namor finishes.

As Wakanda's Queen recovers in the medical bay of the palace, Wakanda holds its breath and waits.

And waits...

And waits...

Days turn to weeks, weeks into months.

Many begin to wonder if Talokan has decided to leave them be, that they view Wakanda as too weak to pose a threat. 

But then the rain comes.

And it doesn't stop.

"We need to leave Wakanda."

Shuri does not look up from her keyboard, refusing to dignify such madness with a response. She has work to do. On her screens are maps of Wakanda, dotted with red lines to signify suitable areas for new diversion canals to be dug.

"Queen Shuri, did you hear me?" 

Scattered across her desk are rough sketches for new flood barriers. She still needs to find a way to make them easier to build upon, should the flood level rise beyond capacity (as they already have twice). Ease of mobility was also proving an issue.

"Shuri-"

Three of the temporary shelters would need to be relocated. Then there was the-

M'Baku slams his hand on her desk, startling her. 

"We're doing alright!" Shuri snaps. "We can still save Wakanda. We can still-"

"Look outside, Shuri! There is hardly anything left to save," M'Baku cuts in, nothing hiding the despair in his voice. 

Shuri closes her eyes, her hands stilling on her keyboard. She hasn't stepped outside of her lab in days, focusing all of her attention on various projects.

Talokan may have more warriors than Wakanda had blades of grass, but rather than utilise his forces again, Namor had somehow evoked the elements to destroy Wakanda. The rain had started as a dribble, but with every day it grew in intensity until the rivers engorged and ruptured their banks.

Homes and buildings by the riverside were either flooded or swept away, forcing hundreds to evacuate to higher ground. The farmlands were overwhelmed, destroying crops and resulting in the loss of thousands of livestock. Within a few weeks, there would be food shortages and with the recent destruction of two of Wakanda's factories - both having plunged into the river after the ground had been washed away - getting what food and resources remained to those that needed it would be next to impossible. Without the factories, their hover technology could not be produced or properly repaired, and traditional methods of transport were hindered by roads having been submerged or damaged. 

Wakanda was not without its flood control procedures, having experienced floods during the rainy seasons. Even with those measures and the improvements that Shuri made to them, this level of rainfall was unprecedented and relentless, on a scale never before seen in any of their recorded history or oral tradition. 

Shuri didn't know how Namor was doing this. 

She had not stayed long in Talokan, but she knew they were technologically advanced; they could have developed technology that allowed for weather manipulation. A more disturbing theory was that it could be another ability that Namor possessed due to his mutant DNA - but the power required for such a feat was too immense to think about. There were legends in Mesoamerican history that suggested he had the power to bring the rains and winds, while others pointed to him knowing a deity who could - neither were options that appealed to Shuri, as it either meant Namor was much more powerful than they realized, or he had allies that held terrifying capabilities. 

"We have nowhere else to go. This is our home, you and I both swore to protect it. We can't..."

M'Baku places a hand on her shoulder and gently says, "And good leaders also know when it is time to stop."

Shuri moves towards the window. Where once had been a city view, now all she sees is water, the tips of taller structures peaking from the waves. It would not be long before the palace was submerged, the lower levels already having succumbed. 

"This is my fault," Shuri whispers. "If I had defeated him... this wouldn't have happened. Wakanda is dying and it's all because of my weakness."

"Shuri, we all lost that day. We are strong, but we are not invisible." M'Baku sighs. "We need to leave Wakanda."

Shuri wants to protest... but it is hopeless. 

Wakanda has been swallowed by the rivers and rains.

They cannot stay here any longer. 

While packing her belongings in the palace, Shuri finds something... odd.

It was in her mother's bedroom, lying on top of her desk. A box containing all of Shuri's old sketchbooks; her mother has amassed quite a collection over the years, refusing to throw away a single one. One of the sketchbooks lay open. It was one of the older ones, the drawings and doodles within were crudely drawn, clearly by the hand of a child, coloured with crayons and outside the lines.  

Shuri wonders if her mother had been going through them she was trapped in Talokan. Was this how she comforted herself without her daughter by her side? Was this what played a role in pushing her to whatever means necessary to recuse her last remaining child? 

Shuri's looks at the drawing her mother had last looked at. It does not bring a fond smile to her face. 

A little girl sinking below the jagged lines of the waves, a boat above her split in half. That alone was disturbing enough - Shuri had been a mischievous child, but never one to indulge in something quite so morbid - but it is was what towers above the girl, deep within the oceans, that sends a cold shiver through Shuri's body. A sudden dread chilling her to the bone. 

It is a drawing of a sea monster.

It looks like a snake - no, a serpent - with a mane of bright red and jade feathers, scales of gold and eyes as dark and fathomless as a black hole, threatening to devour her whole. Its tail coils downwards, a bush of feathers bursting from its tip. A feathered serpent. 

The name she has not dared speak in weeks for a silly superstitious fear that he will appear, slips from her lips.

"Namor."

How is that possible? Shuri thinks.

Shuri remembers drawing this, a vague, distant memory that she cannot fully grasp. Like trying to grab water with the tips of her fingers. She had made this was she was seven years old, long before Wakanda ever became aware of Talokan and their King, long before Wakanda revealed itself to the world. 

It's a coincidence, Shuri tells herself. Children draw all kinds of imaginative things. 

But why had her mama looked it out? Had she stumbled upon it while grieving the abduction of her daughter?

Or has she known it was there...

"Your Majesty," Griot spoke through her kimoyo beads. "Agent Ross wishes to speak to you."

"I've spoken with the UN on your behalf," Agent Ross says, his features grim in the blue hologram. "Several counties have promised to take in Wakandan refugees, but in exchange they want vibranium."

Shuri laughs bitterly. "Of course they do, they cannot do anything without something to gain, can they?" 

They couldn't hand over their vibranium. Not to the colonisers. They would not ask for a small portion, they would demand as much of it as they could get their hands on. Shuri still held onto T'Challa's beliefs that the vibranium and Wakandan technology should be shared with the world, and used to help everyone. But it had to be done carefully, lest it be put to misuse, lest it be used against Wakanda. 

"We will not give any of our vibranium." 

Agent Ross nods. "I'm going to keep trying to get them to budge. The more powerful nations are throwing about their weight, trying to ensure that no one opens their doors to Wakanda. They want to push you into a corner when you're already down."

"Thank you, Agent Ross."

"Wakanda doesn't normally receive this much rain, no where in the world does. Is this... something unnatural? Something we all need to worry about?"

As far as the rest of the world was concerned, Wakanda was experiencing the extreme effects of climate change. Shuri had wanted to correct this assumption, wanting to warn them of the dangers that lurked below the waves, what would come for them once it was done with Wakanda. It would give them a chance to make preparations as Wakanda had been unable to. It might be enough to unite the world against a common foe, saving Wakanda from further destruction. 

The council elders had disagreed. 

They were afraid that if Wakanda revealed Talokan's existence, Namor would send his armies and any chance of survival would be gone. We are already dying! He is killing us slowly, holding our heads underwater! Shuri had argued, We cannot let the same fate befall the rest of the world! Nothing she said had moved them, their fear was too great. And although she was Queen, she needed their support and had to respect their opinions. 

Especially now. 

Namor's words on the day of their last battle had echoed throughout her people, brought back by those who had survived. Her people were worn down from battle after battle, from witnessing the world arguing with them and making demands of them, of their home being attacked again and again. Many felt none of this would have happened had they only done what they had always done, and remained hidden. Where it was safe. Where they could live their lives without outside interference. 

They had suffered greatly, even before Namor had come into the picture.

Once she found a way to save their lands, she would have to regain their trust if she ever wanted her brother's dream to be a reality. No matter how hopeless it seemed now. 

"It's a consequence of global climate change," Shuri repeats the approved lie quietly.

And she thinks he knows she is lying. 

It is a daunting task, to relocate as many people as possible to safer locations.

M'Baku and the Jabari Tribe erect temporary shelters around their villages, taking in as many people as they can and welcoming them into their homes. The mountains have suffered under the constant rain, the terrain more treacherous and prone to landslides, but the diversion canals have worked favourably to prevent extreme flooding by forcing the water down the mountains. 

A few thousand have been able to find safer grounds within the highlands, but with how fast the water levels are rising, it will not be long before they will be forced to move. 

Many Wakandans have now taken refuge in boats. Shuri had planned on building vessels large enough to comfortably accommodate a few thousand people, but with the factories and labs flooding, it had proved too difficult. They do not have the resources for such ambitious projects. The Avengers had discretely sent a few hundred boats to try and offer aid, but they too were having pressure applied to them by their governments. 

The world had made its voice clear.

Hand over the vibranium or perish.

M'Baku offers Shuri a place within his home but she refuses. 

She would not live in any kind of luxury while her people were without their homes. 

Shuri set up a large tent, far away from the others where she could construct a make-shift lab. There she works day and night, fighting sleep at every turn, looking for any way to stop the rain before Wakanda is lost to the rivers that once gave it life. Even with the power and strength of the Black Panther, she is still only human. She falls asleep at her computer table many a night. 

One night, she wakes up in her bed.

She had not gone to bed the previous night and there had not been anything on her bedside table.

Now there is a conch shell and the jade bracelet she had left behind in the palace. 

Namor knows where she is...

He is watching...

And he is waiting.

The rain is persistent, but for the first time in weeks, it quiets to a mild drizzle and the winds are not as harsh nor as cold. Shuri cannot help the terrible thought that Namor knows she is coming to the nearby river, that she brings with her the conch shell that only he could have left for her to find, that he has purposely lessened the rain to make her journey easier. 

Shuri wonders what he hopes to gain from this encounter. Has he not already won? Wakanda's people are dispersed, their homes swallowed by the rivers, their army unable to mobilise and having already proven ineffective against his own. They are no threat to him or his people. If he wants, he could wipe out what remains of her people with little effort. 

Why he hasn't already... is a question she hasn't dared ask.

He had not struck her as the type to be sadistic for enjoyment, he does what he thinks he must do to keep his people safe, no matter how cruel those actions may be. Everything else comes second to the Talokanil. Yet what else could his drowning of Wakanda be? He is drawing this out. Making their suffering last. Is this a punishment? The conch shell though, has Shuri wondering if it's a means of delay. To keep them alive as there is something else he wants from them. Something he cannot simply take by force. 

Shuri lifts the shell to her lips and blows. The sound it makes carries through the air, a low hum like the sombre song of a whale in the ocean searching for its mate. She does not place the shell in the waters as Namor had once instructed, she instead hurls it in with little care for if it breaks. 

Shuri is not left waiting long.

The rivers are dark as the starless skies when Namor arrives. He emerges from the river and takes to the skies on fully healed wings, water dripping down his skin and the jewellery around his neck, forearms and wrists. There are no marks on his body from her claws or fists, everything had healed. Shuri's chest burns with fury, thinking it is unfair how utterly unaffected by that day that he is.

"I'm glad to see you've recovered from your wounds," Namor says pleasantly, landing by the water's edge. "To what do I owe the pleasure of The Wakandans Queen's company?"

Shuri digs her nails into her palms and grits out, "I do not think you have thought your plans through."

"Oh really? And what plans are those?"

"Flooding Wakanda. Forcing my people to flee, just like the colonisers did to your people all those centuries ago," Shuri spits. 

Namor's eyes darken, all pretences of friendliness vanishing. He takes a menacing step forward, then another. The rain falls a little heavier, the wind picking up its speed with a threatening howl 

"Do not dare compare me to them," Namor murmurs darkly. "If you have asked me here to seek mercy for your nation, your skills in diplomacy have diminished greatly since your time in Talokan."

It takes Shuri a mighty deal of strength not to further push him, to needle the nerve she has struck until it goes raw. 

"We have sought refuge with other nations, they have all denied us," Shuri says, the words bitter. Namor does not look surprised, he had predicted this very thing would happen. There isn't a nation that wouldn't plunder Wakanda if given the chance. He holds no hope for the Surface World. "They want our vibranium and that is not something I want to do, but with nowhere else to turn, it will soon be the only option. If your rains do not stop, we will have no choice. I will have no choice."

Vibranium falling into the hands of the colonisers was not something Namor would want. He and his people may be powerful - the plight of Wakanda making it an indisputable fact - but the vibranium would give the other nations a fighting chance. At the very least, it would make things more difficult for Namor, increasing his losses of his precious people. 

"Or I could just destroy the rest of your people and prevent that from happening," Namor shrugs one shoulder. He says it with sickening casualness, like it was nothing to destroy an entire population. 

Heartless bastard, Shuri seethes.

"Or you could stop the rain and leave us be!" Shuri snaps. "We are no threat to you. It will take us years to rebuild our nation after your waters have destroyed them!"

"Your mother started this war, and you ensured it was continued."

"And I am trying to stop it now."

"And why would I do that?" He asks, tilting his head. "Why would I give my enemies a chance to breathe and lick their wounds, to regroup and strike again, leading to the death of more of my people? You do not surrender when you are winning."

"Why leave your enemy alive when you can finish them off?" Shuri challenges. The words almost stick in her throat. The bruise on her pride never having healed. "You could have ended this that day in the desert. You could have killed me. Could have sent your warriors to slay every Wakandan. You didn't. You've left us alive. Isn't that giving your enemy a chance to garner strength and plot against you?"

It's a dangerous conversation. She could end up pushing him into finally annihilating them. But she was certain now, that there was something he wanted. Something worth risking more headaches for himself further down the line.

If he had destroyed Wakanda at the start, then when his rains finally reached the rest of the world, no one would know where the threat was coming from. How could anyone guess that an underwater empire and its vengeful God were responsible? But with Wakanda still alive, they could reveal the truth. Marking the enemy and their territory. Giving the world intel. Letting them prepare for the war that would threaten to drown them all. 

Why had he left such a risk? 

There had to be a reason. 

It was why he had left her the shell.

"Have you finally learned your lesson, my Queen?"

"Lesson?" 

...you will regret not allying yourself with Talokan. With me. The world you seek to protect does not care for you. They will descend upon you like vultures once they sense your weakness. If this is a lesson you have to learn the hard way, so be it.

Shuri's eyes widen as she remembers his words from that day on the beach.

"That's why you did this? To show me how quickly the rest of the world would abandon us? To teach me a lesson!"

"I have lived for centuries, I have seen the nature of the Surface World time and time again. It is always the same. Their greed consumes them."

Just as your vengeance consumes you, she thinks. 

"My words were never going to be enough to convince you, I needed you to see the truth for yourself. In Wakanda's hour of need, the outside world left you to suffer, unless you give them what they want. And even if you did, they would not be content, they will never be content until you are drained of every resource that you have." He dares to step closer, leaving barely a breadth between them. Their chests almost touching. Shuri does not step away, refusing to let him cower her. "And yet, when you called for me, I came as promised."

"We are only in this position because of you," Shuri hisses. 

"We are in this position because of your former King."

Shuri cannot help it, her anger overwhelms her at hearing him criticise her brother. Her Black Panther suit clads her like a second skin. With a powerful push, she sends Namor skidding backwards, crashing into the side of the mountain. 

Her claws are out and she is rushing towards him, ready to swipe that insufferable smirk off his face. But Namor is ready, he parries her blow and strikes back with as much power as she did, propelling her backwards. Shuri flips through the air, landing in a crouch not far away. 

With alarming speed, Namor is in front of her again. Shuri avoids the kick he aims at her stomach, then the next aimed at her head. Punch after punch, kick after kick, she ducks, twirls and blocks. Tired of being on the defensive, Shuri snarls and begins a barrage of swift and brutal blows. Her claws lash out, striking his face, drawing blood. 

Namor cries out then grabs her by the neck and slams her into the sand. He pins her wrists above her head, his body weighing down on hers, keeping her in place. 

"You always go for the face," Namor mutters. 

"Take the hint that I do not like to see it!"

Namor glowers at her. 

"You are letting your emotions get the better of you, Princess." 

"I am Queen of Wakanda-"

"Then start acting like it," Namor cuts in. "Your people are on the brink of death. Your only hope of surviving has offered his hand in friendship and instead of grasping it, you lash out like a child."

With a growl, Shuri tries to wrestle her arms free, her legs trying to dislodge him. He has no right to call her a child when he is the one who has robbed her of her innocence with the death of her mama, by forcing a crown upon her head, and destroying her home. He who has taken everything from her without a moment's hesitation. A demon from the depths come to drown them all.

Namor presses her harder into the sand, forcing her to stop her struggles. Having him so close, feeling every inch of his body against her own, feels like a perversion. She wants to launch him into the sea, never to see or feel the warmth of his body again. 

"This does not have to be the end for Wakanda. I will give you one chance. One final chance to save your people or perish beneath the waves and my people's spears."

"You clearly don't need our help. You have the power to bring endless rain. You have more warriors than even Wakanda can handle. Your warriors have superior strength. Why do you want our help? What is it you really want, Namor?"

"I am not ignorant to the threats that lie beyond the stars," Namor admits quietly. 

There has been no shortage of extraterrestrial threats to Earth. Dormammu, Loki, the dark elf Malekith, Thanos - beings of incredible power that had nearly wiped out the planet or enslaved it. They had left nothing but destruction in their wake, hurting and killing millions of innocent people. A planet submerged below the waves may not be appealing to some, but with how vast the universe was, there would certainly be creatures who found it appealing, or who were willing to swim the depths of the oceans to find the resources they sought. Another threat to Namor's people. 

He's certainly thorough with his protective efforts, Shuri thinks.

Having Wakanda's experience and technology, as well as a population who could breathe in oxygen environments without aid, would prove beneficial, even crucial in future threats. 

"Now, do I have our alliance? If not you may wish to start praying to your Goddess to grant you gills." 

"Wakanda cannot aid you in anything in its current state," Shuri bites out. 

"Then you get exactly what you wish for," Namor muses. "You do not have to play a role in the downfall of the rest of the Surface World. Your conscious will be free of the burden. You can stay in the shadows, and care for your own. Consider it my gift to you."

T'Challa would not have wanted this, Shuri thinks. He had revealed Wakanda to the world so they could build bridges, not barriers. So that everyone could help one another, so that no nation was left to suffer. That they would act as one tribe. Agreeing with this was spitting in the face of everything her brother believed in, everything he had fought for. This was not right. 

"If we agree to your alliance, if we help you with all threats outside of Earth, you'll stop the rain?"

"The rain will stop and the waters will return to the river and then the oceans. While you rebuild your nation, I will do what must be done to protect them both," Namor says.

Protect them both? Shuri wants to scoff. No one has hurt Wakanda as he has. And what if he ever felt threatened by them in the future? He could turn on them just as fast and this time there truly would be no chance of allies. They would be isolated in ways they had never been. They would not be allies, they would be hostages to a Serpent's whims. 

What other choice do I have? Shuri thinks. 

This isn't a rock and a hard place. She is trapped between a spear and a sword and will be cut either way. 

"Fine," Shuri whispers, deflated and exhausted. She tries not to think of Namor's promise, that one day she would be worn down to the point that she would accept his offer. Would her mother have done the same in her position? Would her brother? Her father might have. Her cousin would have happily accepted the first offer without hesitation and it never would have gotten to this mess. 

Haven't they suffered enough? The tired, aching part of her pleads. Why must the weight of the world be on only my shoulders? I am but one person, I cannot protect everyone. 

"You win," Shuri mumbles.

She closes her eyes, unable to bare the smug look that will be on Namor's face.

"But remember this, there are forces out there capable of devouring entire worlds. Forces that could wipe out half the universe with a snap of their fingers. Wakanda has been there for almost every threat that has attacked Earth in recent years and came out victorious. You will need us."

Namor opens his mouth to speak, but Shuri cuts him off. 

"So calling off our alliance over something as petty as this would be childish  and unfitting of a King."

"And what would that be, Prince-"

Shuri rams her knee upwards, right into his groin. 

The look of utter violence and seething humiliation on his face was worth it. Shuri shoves him off of her, his grip having loosened upon impact, and quickly rolls to her feet. Namor remains on his knees, doubled-over and breathless. She has never seen him look so murderous as he did then. 

She is sure he will find a way to make her suffer for that one.

"Consider that a gift to me too," Shuri says.

Shuri is smart enough to know, that now is the time to leave. 

"You should have killed him," M'Baku mutters. 

"If I had killed him and the rain did not stop, what would we do then?" Shuri challenges. "It would not have stopped his people either. If anything they would have attacked Wakanda for killing their King and their God."

"How do we know he won't cancel the alliance after your-" M'Baku clears his throat, taking a bite of his carrot. "Attack on his... person."

"He needs us."

When the clouds part and the sun basks down upon Wakanda for the first time in over a month, the people cry out with joy. Smiles glow upon their faces. Hope flickering to light within their chests. Shuri watches from her tent as people dance and sing and dare to hope that the nightmare has come to an end.

Any happiness Shuri might have felt at seeing her people feel happiness and safety once more, is suffocated with the knowledge that the nightmare has only just begun. That this has come at a terrible cost. One she is not sure she can survive as it weighs heavy on her soul.

The next day, the waters begin to retreat. Within a week, the rivers are no longer swollen, the waves spitting back the villages and cities they had eaten like a wretched beast. 

The damage is extensive. 

The repairs could take years.

But then, once the waters have well and truly left, the Talokanil emerge from the waters. They offer their assistance to fix what has been broken, bringing with them food and other resources that the people of Wakanda so desperately need. 

It is a bitter pill to swallow, allowing the Talokanil to aid in building what their God had so thoroughly destroyed. 
 

Shuri does not see Namor for months, but that does not mean he does not make his presence felt. 

He sends his people to give her gifts. 

Strings of gleaming pearls.

Shells of all kinds and sizes, with designs and shapes she has never seen before. 
 
Hand-crafted ornaments made of jade. 

Marine fossils of creatures not on any of Griot's databases. 

Shuri bites her tongue and accepts these tokens of friendship - as if such a thing could ever truly exist between their nations now - and requests that her thanks be given to Namor. She wants to reject them out of spite, but she isn't quite willing to push her luck, not after their last encounter at the riverside. They are nothing more than obligatory offerings, meaningless trinkets between nations, a show-and-dance of their alliance. 

It is the dress that has her second-guessing his intentions. 

A replica of the gown he had given her on her arrival in Talokan, adorned with jade and precious stones, made from the finest threads as white as sea foam. It is too personal a gift. Not something one would gift a nation. And there is... sentiment to this dress. She may not have enjoyed wearing it, far too traditional for her tastes, but there was no denying the wave of emotions tied to it. Bitter as they were sweet.

Shuri wonders if it is those feelings that he is trying to stir inside her. For while she wore this dress, she had opened up to him and let her guard down. Had been vulnerable with him in a way she had not with anyone else. She never should have poured her heart out to a stranger. A man who had threatened her nation. Yet while they had sat side by side in that cave, she had strangely felt like she was in the company of a kindred spirit, someone who knew the anguish in her heart and understood. His presence had felt like an old friend. 

Shuri tosses the dress to the floor. 

She will not wear anything of his.

There are dozens of screens within Shuri's lab, all of them show different news reports from around the globe of torrential downpours and the devastation of flooding that the world is suffering. 

Namor's war has begun.  

It eats away at Shuri day by day until finally she can take it no more and summons M'Baku.

"You cannot be serious."

"I am."

"You think he will accept this? Will this not be in violation of our treaty, our alliance? If we anger him again, he will return the rains," M'Baku argues.

"The alliance was between Wakanda and Talokan. If I am no longer Queen... if I act on my own... then he cannot break the treaty. I can help the rest of the world," Shuri insists. 

"You are the Black Panther. Your place is here."

"The Black Panther protects Wakanda and that is what I am doing. I will do everything in my power to stop our nation from being drenched in the blood of the world." 

"He will try and stop you."

"Why would he care about what I do once I am no longer Queen and have no influence over Wakanda's politics?" Shuri asks with a mirthless laugh. "I am no threat to him alone."

Shuri does not see the look on M'Baku's face that tells a different story. 

Chapter Text

Shuri realizes now that Namor had never wanted to burn the world, he had wanted to drown it.

As his people had been compelled to leave the drylands and air behind, so too would the rest of the world. His people's fate thrust upon all others, only this time, there were no magical plants to grant anyone gills. 

What happened to Wakanda, was now happening everywhere. High ground was rapidly depleting as the oceans dwindled away the lands, wave by wave, tide by tide. The river, lakes and lochs were fed till they were bloated and burst by a never-ending downpour of glistening rain. Disease and hunger were rampant as hundreds of thousands of people were overcrowded into hastily erected shelters or boats. Getting resources to places that needed them was neigh impossible, as any ship that sailed became prey to the Talokanil. 

Eight billion people and not a single one not suffering. 

And despite Shuri's best efforts, despite all that she had given up (her friends, her home, her throne) there didn't seem to be a damned thing she could do about it. 

All her knowledge, all her skills and talents, and yet she could not find a way to stop the rain.

Just like I couldn't find a way to save my brother...

Countless nights Shuri toils away in her lab, trying to construct a weather modifier that would be able to wrestle control of the skies from Namor. Nothing would work. And with every failed attempt, she felt her shoulders slump a little further, her heart crush a little more. It felt like the only thing holding her together was duct tape, plasters and caffeine. That at any moment she would fall apart. 

But she couldn't. 

She was Shuri, a scientific genius, the Black Panther, the daughter of Ramonda and T'Chaka and sister to T'Challa.

It was not in her nature to yield. 

No matter how hopeless it all felt. 

To stop herself from despairing over the train wreck that was her weather modifier, to feel like she was actually doing something productive in all this madness, Shuri spares some time for other projects. Such as improving flood control methods and building various defences against the Talokanil, primarily to combat their siren's song which was proving their most lethal weapon. 

Having sailors and passengers constantly wearing earplugs was not practical. To solve this,Shuri developed URSULA, her own version of a LRAD (long-range acoustic device) that militaries used to protect their ships from pirates and enemy vessels. Having figured out the frequency in which the Talokanil's hypnotic songs were sung, Shuri's new machine would play a noise with the same frequency and opposite amplification, cancelling out the Talokanil's deadly hymn. To add insult to injury, it was set at a frequency that caused them immense pain, keeping them away from the ships altogether. 

Without URSULA, the Talokanil had simply boarded any vessel whose sailors utilised earplugs. It didn't matter if it was a commercial, government or civilian, it didn't matter how heavily armed it was or whether or not it was guarded by The Avengers, the Talokanil always won. Their victories all but guaranteed with their overwhelming numbers and mastery over the seas and waters. The Surface Dwellers who took to the oceans were like sitting ducks. It was a strange reversal of shooting fish in the barrel where the fish now held the guns. 

This changed with Shuri's device, giving them a fighting chance. 

But it worked a little too well.

And when the warriors could no longer reach the ships they sought to destroy...

They summoned their God. 

"Namor knows that you are defying him."

"From your expression, he did not take it well."

It doesn't surprise Shuri that it has taken months for Namor to figure out that she is missing. Wakanda had kept that news quiet while Nakia, Okoye and M'Baku tried to convince Shuri she was now the one partaking in madness. They were not wrong per se, but Shuri refuses to accept that the rest of the world should be left to Namor's wrath. It wasn't right. And it was not what her brother would have wanted. Neither is getting yourself killed for nothing, Nakia had retorted after a particularly bitter argument. Her friends seemed to have accepted this new reality, and Shuri found herself avoiding their calls more and more, not wanting their fatalistic attitudes to dampen her spirits further (she was struggling enough as it was).

What does surprise her is M'Baku's next words. 

"He is not pleased," M'Baku said gravely. "He demands to know where you are."

"Why?" Shuri asks sharply. 

"Why?" M'Baku scoffs, the image of his hologram blurring. "You are the Crown Princess of Wakanda. The Black Panther. The most brilliant mind of our time. Did you think he would let you go off on your merry way to oppose him?"

"I am one person, I am no threat to him." 

Her battle with him had made that clear in abounded. Even with the powers of the Black Panther giving her superhuman strength and speed, with her advanced technology and suit, it had not been enough. She had not been enough. 

"Do you truly believe that?" M'Baku challenges, outrage creeping into his voice. "Funny, the Fish Man seems to think differently. Our spies have confirmed that he has sent some of his best warriors after you. Several Wakandans - myself, Nakia, and Okoye included - have been thoroughly interrogated to see what we knew."

Shuri looks up, startled. She had made sure not to tell anyone where she was going, just as a precaution. The only means of communication anyone had to contact her was a single kimoyo bead that she had entrusted to Okoye - a mistake it would seem, as she had told Nakia and M'Baku so they could attempt to sway her back. 

M'Baku laugh is mirthless. "The Fish Man is no fool. And although you are too blind to see it right now... he is not. He sees what I see."

"And what is that?" Shuri sighs.

All she sees when she catches glimpses of her reflection is a failure. A weak link in a long line of powerful rulers who had managed to keep Wakanda safe. A child playing at being a grown-up. A stubborn girl who had gotten in way over her head. A kitten up against a leviathan. 

"A threat."

Shuri laughs - it has been such a long time since she last laughed, and now it is an ugly and broken thing. 

"A threat? Some threat I was. I couldn't defeat him in battle. It is because of me that Wakanda fell!"

"You know what I think? I think you came closer to winning that battle than you realized. I think for a moment, the Fish Man thought he would not win, and that scared him. You scare him. You are young, and you have much to learn, and yet you almost defeated a God hundreds of years your peer?" Impossibly, there is pride in M'Baku's eyes as he looks at her, as if she achieved something miraculous that day when truly she had not. The pride gives way to gentleness, a deep sympathy that makes tears prick at her eyes. "Just because you can not see your potential, does not mean that others do not."

Shuri looks away first. 

The silence that follows is heavy. Shuri keeps her eyes towards the window where rain patters against the glass. It is dark outside, too dark to see the mountain peaks and the swollen loch below in the valley. She has gone as far from Wakanda as she could, hiding among the mountainous peaks of Scotland and going as far inland as she could. Here, she could do what needed to be done without disturbance. Aiding the Avengers and nations of the world with her technology and science, without the sea looming over her, reminding her of what lurked below. 

Perhaps a part of her had known that Namor would not let her go so easily. 

Everything M'Baku said was true. It was the same thing everyone had been telling her for weeks. But Shuri had convinced herself that after her defeat at The Feather Serpents' hands, he would be arrogant enough to assume she was too low in the food chain to bother with once she had given up her political power in Wakanda. That she was a candle compared to the wildfires like the Avengers. That he had defeated her before, he could do it again. That if he truly believed all of that, then she could leave Wakanda and try - at the very least try - and save the world from burning. 

"Your mother would not want this for you."

My mother would not have wanted to die, Shuri thinks spitefully. 

"I have to do this," Shuri says firmly, "otherwise how many more children will be left motherless if Namor has his way?"

"I worry for you. Namor will not rest until he finds you and when he does..."

"I have this argument enough with the others, please M'Baku, I do not need it from you too."

"You will hear it from me, seeing as I'm the one who has to deal with a Fish Man who will not listen!" M'Baku snaps. 

"You are no stranger to diplomacy."

"He has only ever been swayed by you."

"Swayed?" Shuri scoffs. "How have I swayed him? Look at what he has done to Wakanda!"

"He has stopped the rain and returned the waters to the ocean," M'Baku retorts. "You convinced him to do that."

"You think I have any sway over him and you are wrong. If he listened to me he would have let us hid Riri in Wakanda. He would have let us find another solution, not declared war on the entire world!" Shuri cannot stop her voice rising. The idea that she had any influence over that snake was ludicrous. "He never would have killed-"

Shuri's voice breaks. With a curse under her breath, Shuri looks away to wipe her tears.  

M'Baku sighs heavily. "Will you return to Wakanda?"

"No."

"Then there is something I must show you."

M'Baku sends her several photographs through her kimoyo beads.  

"A very bad picture of The Loch Ness Monster?" Shuri quips cheekily as she looks at the grainy photographs. 

"Whatever it is, it has been spotted off the coast of France and is heading North."

"And you're telling me this because?" Shuri drawls. 

"Look at the picture closely."

Shuri looks again. The images are black-and-white and terribly blurry, but there is definitely a distinct shape within the darkness. Something long and thick, twisting in the waters. There are fuzzy shapes sprouting from the creature's body, barely visible. Shuri knows exactly what M'Baku thinks this is. But it cannot be. It can't. 

"It's a Feathered Serpent, Shuri."

"Or maybe it's just a pile of seaweed?" Shuri squints at the photograph. "You can not be seriously saying that this is Namor?"

"I don't know if it is the Fish Man or if it's his pet, but it is real. Wherever it goes, the rain and winds follow, wreaking havoc across whatever poor nation happens to be in its path. It is not to be trifled with."

Whatever it was, it was heading her way. 

Shuri refuses to let her eyes stray to the old sketchbook lying on the coffee table. She refuses to think about the drawing of a little girl in the ocean and the titanic creature that haunts her. 

The mission seems simple. Assist the cargo ship in reaching the state of Tennessee, one of the new coastlines of America. The ship contains food, fresh water and medical supplies, as well as essential parts for constructing URSULAs and various weapons that had been designed by Bruce Banner. It was vital that it reaches the port without delay or interference. 

But of course, when had anything ever been simple?

They hadn't gotten halfway across the Atlantic before the Talokanil ascended upon them.

The cargo ship's URSULA was activated, but the pain didn't deter the warriors this time. They climbed aboard and all hell broke loose. Gunfire and war cries rung louder than the waves. Although the ear-splitting agony the acoustic machine caused them, the Talokaniel fought hard and viciously against the soldiers guarding the vessel. It was as if they knew how vital this particular ship was and were willing to endure whatever pain they had to. Falcon, the second Avenger assigned to this mission, came to the same conclusion that Shuri had. 

"They have to know what's on board this ship!" Falcon's voice shouted into Shuri's earpiece. The soldier had taken flight before tossing a Talokanil warrior overboard. "Is it possible we have a mole?"

"A mole? Not possible," Shuri replies as she avoids spears and fists. "Why would anyone help them knowing what they are doing to the world?"

At the back of her mind, the thought has already sunk in that there was one nation that might... one nation that could. Wakanda has spies all across the world, their War Dogs skilled like no other and who could easily get such important information. It was in their interest now to help Talokan, but Namor had told her that Wakanda didn't need to do anything while their nation recovered. From her last conversation with Nakia, that was still years away, the damage that the waters had done to their infrastructure was immense. 

Had Namor changed his mind and decided he would force Wakanda to aid him in his war? 

Was it her fault? 

A Talokanil launched a flurry of blows towards her. Shuri ducks and parries them, growling as she slashes him across the chest with her vibranium claws. The warrior hisses, falling to his knees before Shuri round-kicks him, knocking him out. He would not stay down long, they never did. She narrowly misses being hit by rogue gunfire as she runs across the deck to assist a struggling soldier facing off with three Talokanil on her own.

"In a cat versus a fish fight, the cat should be winning," Falcon quips, having spotted Shuri getting close-lined.

"If you don't shut up we'll see who wins against a cat and an annoying little birdie!" 

You would not be the first bird whose wings I've ripped off.

It takes a moment for Shuri to realize that the wind and rain have stopped. There is an eerie lull in the battle as something strange vibrates through the air, like the tremors of a loud noise, too distant to hear but powerful enough for the vibrations to be felt. If she listens carefully, it almost reminds Shuri of the conch shell. That low, haunting whistle it makes as the air blows through it.  

(And for a moment, Shuri is no longer on a silent battlefield. She is on a different ship, a research boat out in the middle of the ocean. An older woman - dark skin, her long hair braided and tied into a ponytail, a face that reminds Shuri of her mama - stands beside her, bemoaning having been soaked by the waves splattering against the haul. Shuri is a child again, excitedly shrieking about the pod of whales not far from them, jumping out of the water. But then the wind ceases, the skies darken with impossible speed and the rain begins... and something roars-)

"Shuri! Snap out of it!" Falcon's voice shouts in her ear. 

A Talokanil warrior has swung his blade towards her. Broken from her vision, Shuri blocks it with her claws and rips the weapon from her enemy's grasp. She sinks her claws into his forearms and swings him overboard with a cry. That had been too close. If she had been a second slower-

Something roars. A terrifying howl that rattles the ship so hard everyone stumbles or falls to their knees.

When Shuri glances up, the Talokanil are no longer on the ship, having leapt into the sea. 

"Where are they going? And what the hell was that?" 

Shuri shakes her head, deactivating her panther mask, "Maybe it's their lunch break?"

Her gut told her whatever it was, it was not going to be good. This was confirmed when something rammed into the underside of the boat, the sound of scraping and groaning metal like nails on a chalkboard. Panic erupts on deck as the boat begins to tilt, sirens and alarms blaring over the shouts and screams of everyone onboard. Container after container began to plummet into the sea as safety wires and cables snap. 

"Damn it," Shuri curses as she slides across the deck, managing to catch herself on the balcony at the other side.  

Below her, the water taunts her. If she fell in she was as good as dead, the Talokanil were already picking off those who had fallen overboard upon the first hit. They waited like sharks, circling the boat, searching for the fallen. And they were not alone. A dark shadow darts out from beneath the boat, not far from the surface of the water but too deep to clearly see. Something long and large... something familiar...

The cargo ship was hit again and this time, Shuri loses her grip.

The water is a shock to her systems, even with her panther suit's heating capabilities. She holds off the urge to gasp, knowing she'll lose what little air she has left. As fast as she can, she swims towards the surface, eager to get out of the sea. The last thing she needs is a fistfight underwater-

Like a whip, something lashes out from the darkness, coiling around her ankle. 

Before Shuri could react, it pulls her down into the depths with the speed of an anchor plummeting towards the seabed. Shuri couldn't see what was pulling her down, it was too dark and her lungs were burning from the need for air. She had to get to the surface! She wasn't going to hold out much longer...

The last thing she saw before she lost consciousness was a dark snake-like shadow, rearing up from the darkness to meet her. In the fleeting sunlight from above, Shuri catches glints of red and green feathers, and a body of golden scales. A pair of frightening dark eyes stare back at her. 

I've seen you before, Shuri thinks numbly, her eyes closing, the last of her air escaping to the surface, leaving her behind. 

When Shuri awakes for the first time, she thinks she is dreaming.

No longer is she on a cargo ship or drowning in the Atlantic Ocean, instead, she is an enormous cavern lined with stalactites that drip down like fangs. Somewhere water drips and she can hear the faint sound of the tide outside. It is surprisingly warm, too warm almost. The walls are not like the cavern ceiling, they are not made of rock but instead, they are golden and grooved, and every so often they move like they were breathing- no, they are not walls, they are scales. 

Shuri's heart races as she realizes that she is not alone.

The creature coils around itself in giant loops, like a resting snake. Shuri is nestled within its coils, her back resting against its golden scales while the end of its feathered tail drapes over her body like a blanket, soft and silky whereas its scales are solid and polished. The tips of its feathery mane are visible over the edge of coils, but otherwise out of sight. 

Shuri quiets her breathing...

The edges of her vision blur...

And she falls into a restless slumber...

When Shuri awakes the second time, it is to the crackle of a fire and the breezy whistle of the wind. There is a thick woven blanket draped over, the designs reminding her of the blankets in the Talokan cave. Her body aches as she pushes herself into a sitting position. What she wouldn't give for some caffeine right now. 

"I would not get up so quickly if I were you." 

Or a knife.

It is the first time in nearly a year that she has heard his voice. Like the first roar of thunder, it chases away any haze. Her body goes tense, her hand snatching for her panther- 

Where is her panther necklace? 

Shuri searches the ground around her, her heart a frantic pounding in her ears. No, she cannot have lost them. Not now, not when he is here-

Namor clears his throat. 

His body is illuminated by the flickering fire, amber flames dancing across the pearls, shells and jade adorning his skin. His back rests against the wall, one knee drawn to his chest while the other leg is stretched out. He is completely at ease and comfortable, a stark contrast to the turmoil swirling inside of Shuri like a storm. In his hand, he dangles her panther necklace.

"Lose something?" Namor smiles, his voice pleasant. "A bad habit of yours, it seems."

She knows what he is referring to, and wants to snap at him that she had not lost his mother's bracelet the first time. That she had left it behind in the palace to forget about the monster who gave her it, just as she had the second time too. She didn't need reminders of the man who had so easily lowered her guard in that cave, the man who still tormented her with what-could-have-beens and what-ifs. She didn't want to remember his kingdom and all its beauty, nor the people and their smiles. 

It made her heart ache too much to bear. 

"What do you hope to accomplish by running away?" Namor asks, fingers stroking the metal fangs on her necklace. 

"I was not running away," Shuri hisses.

"You were," Namor replies. "There have never been any lies between us, let us not start now."

"I was-" Shuri clears her throat. "I am trying to save everyone. I will not let this bloodshed continue." 

"You are no fool, Princess. With a mind as bright as yours you cannot possibly think that this is the smartest plan."

"I never said it was the smartest, but it is the right one." 

T'Challa would not have surrendered or given up. He would not allow Wakanda to slink away into the shadows while the rest of the world suffered like this. Those days were over, he had promised. He had wanted them to act as one tribe, one people. Shuri would do so as well. 

"Is it?" Namor tilts his head. "You cannot save everyone, no matter how hard you try, no matter how powerful you are, you are but one person. The spill of blood is as sure as the breaking of the lands under the steady beat of the sea. There is only so much you can do." 

"You're wrong. Earth has fought against greater odds and won."

"Earth has fought against greater odds and lost," Namor points out. "Do you want to know what I think?" 

"Not really," Shuri mutters. "But I'm sure you're going to tell me anyway."

"I think you know that this is all pointless. That I will not lose. That the Surface World will succumb, just as Wakanda did. You do this to make yourself feel better, a child playing dress up, pretending to be a hero to ease her own guilt."

Shuri tosses the blanket aside and gets to her feet. 

"I told you why I am doing this! I am not a heartless monster!" Shuri spits, outraged by his audacity. "I care about others. I do not want them suffering!"

"They abandoned you when you needed them."

"That doesn't matter. I will not be like them. I will not punish innocent people for the mistakes of their leaders."

"As I still could," Namor says mildly, like he hadn't just threatened her nation again, but the threat is clear in the darkness in his eyes. 

Shuri stills. 

"You abandoned Wakanda, and being so far away from home, I have to wonder if you are fully aware of what goes on while you are gone?"

"What have you done?"

"Nothing... yet, but I still can. Perhaps I will flood the city with my rains or crack open the Earth below its feet? Retribution for their Protectors slight against me. Your machines are proving quite annoying, but I expected nothing less from you."

"If you want to punish anyone, then punish me. I am no longer Queen of Wakanda, my actions are my own!"

"You are the Black Panther and Wakanda's Princess," Namor's words echo M'Baku's. "You are just as much a part of Wakanda as a Queen. There is no separating yourself from it. I can take your actions as a declaration of war against Talokan, that you have broken our alliance. Wakanda did not fare well the first three times I attacked, will you fare any better the fourth and final time? They do say practice makes perfect."

Shuri swallows hard, her nails digging into the palm of her hands. Namor rises to his feet and slowly passes the fire, making his way towards her. Not wanting him to be close, Shuri begins to move too, always keeping the fire between them. It feels like a strange dance of predator and prey, but a panther is no prey, certainly not to a snake. 

"You abandoned your people. Your duties. Your loved ones. All for your own pride. You risked so much just to defy me," a smile plays on Namor's lips, a flash of fondness in his eyes. "As troublesome as all of this is I will not deny that I am flattered by your devotion."

She will strangle him. 

She will clip his wings for good. 

She will beat him until his precious ocean is red with his blood.

"I thought you were finally growing up when you agreed to our alliance," Namor sighs. "That you had learned to control your emotions. I see now that you still have much to learn, but you will. I just wish it did not have to be the hard way." 

From his golden belt, Namor produces a small jade vial. 

"I will make a deal with you, Princess."

"I don't think I'm going to like your deals."

Namor laughs. "Well, I do not think you will like this deal, but perhaps in the future I will make some more... pleasurable ones that you will like." 

Shuri does not appreciate the innuendo and deepens her glower.

Namor smiles slyly as he rests his back against the wall. He holds the vial up between his fingers, golden light dancing off the polished green.

"If you agree to take this, I will not hold Wakanda accountable for your actions," Namor offers, "I will even let you get away this time to continue your fruitless endeavour. Try and stop the rain all you want, the worst of the damage has already been done. Create your clever machines, my people will find ways around them. You are only deluding yourself and perhaps that is what you need to do for now. Let it never be said that I am not benevolent to those so passionately devoted to me."

"Devoted to your death," Shuri corrects harshly.

She wants to kick herself as soon as the words leave her. She is in no position to be taunting the megalomanic with the world in a death grip. 

Namor rolls the vial between his fingers, humming softly to himself. "Well, if you want the rains to return to Wakanda, who am I to argue?"

"That isn't what-" Shuri closes her eyes tightly, taking in a deep breath. She will kill this infuriating man one day, she swears it with every fibre of her being. But that day is not today. One lesson Okoye had tried to teach her was that it was okay to lose some battles if it let you live to fight the next day. "What is in that vial?"

"The elixir that will strip a person of their Black Panther strength."

Shuri's eyes widen, her breath catching in her throat. Her eyes fall to the vial in his hand. The elixir was a closely guarded secret, its ingredients known only to the most trusted of Shamans. How had Namor found out about it let alone created it? A quiet ache seeps into her soul at the thought that someone in Wakanda might have betrayed her. 

"Why? So you can kill me without resistance?"

It is disquieting, the realization that despite all her losses, Namor clearly still thinks she is a threat. M'Baku had been right and now Namor was dealing with that threat, albeit in an unorthodox manner. Why all the fuss when he could just kill her here and now? Save himself the headache later - and she would give him a headache, the headache of the century.

"If I wanted you dead I have had plenty of opportunities while you slept," Namor's smile is vicious. 

He wants to declaw her.

Without her powers, she would not be able to aid the Avengers with the physical aspects of war, no combat or rescue missions. She would be stuck to the labs, away from the battlefields. It would be harder to defend herself, and it would take time to get used to her depleted strength and not having her powers to rely on in a pinch. And if she should cross Namor in battle again... she wouldn't stand a chance. 

Game over.

"Why?" Shuri asks again, noting how he avoided her question. "Why not just kill me?"

"Do you want me to kill you?" He asks softly. 

This isn't the first time he has not killed her when he had the chance. He could have killed her the first time Wakanda did battle with Talokan, when he drove a spear through her aircraft and missed her. He could have killed her that day in the desert, but he decided not to and promised that she would live. He could have killed her today, let her drown or slaughtered her in her sleep.

But he didn't.

He wants her alive. 

And she doesn't know why. 

It sends a terrifying chill through her body, forcing her to break eye contact with him. His eyes have always been intense, but there is something darker in them now, after her prodding. Shuri isn't sure if she wants to know the answer, as much as she feels it already eating away at her. 

"I'll drink the elixir," Shuri whispers.

Namor makes no move towards her, so Shuri steps towards him. Shuri hates how it always feels like a walk to the executioner's blade when she approaches him. There is not a part of her body that isn't wound up tighter than a bowstring ready to snap. She knows how powerful those muscles are, knows the agony they can bring. There is nothing about him that doesn't radiate danger and from this close, she can smell the salt on his skin and feel the monster that lays coiled in wait. 

"You swear you will not punish Wakanda for what I do?"

"You have my word."

Shuri takes the vial from him, ignoring the heat of his skin as their fingers brush. 

As quick as a striking snake, his hand wraps around her much smaller one, preventing her from taking the vial. Shuri looks at him questioning, but he only raises their joined hands towards her mouth. The vial is cold against her lips, but the liquid is searing as it pours down her throat. Namor does not look away as she drinks and Shuri cannot break herself free from his stare. He tilts the vial further, making sure she drinks every last drop. 

When Shuri chokes on the last drop, she shoves Namor's hand away.

It feels like every ounce of energy is being drained from her body, like leeches were feasting on her strength. 

Her legs give way almost instantly, but Namor is quick to catch her with strong arms around her waist. Her hands fall to his chest but she is too weak to push him away as he carefully lowers them both to the ground. He pulls her back to rest against his chest, his legs bent on either side of her body. Far too close. Far too intimate. Like they are lovers enjoying each other's company, and not enemies destined to be at each other's throats. Worse still is when he wraps his arms around her waist again to keep her upright.

The cavern is spinning, her head aching and Shuri fears she may actually be sick. It hadn't packed quite the punch for T'Challa when he had taken it. Bast, he had been able to fight immediately after! Was this a side effect of the star-shaped plant she used being a hybrid? Or was this months of sleepless nights and overworking herself finally catching up with her, now that she lacks the Black Panther's strength?

"Take it easy, Princess. I promise no harm will come to you here," Namor's voice is a gentle caress in her ear. "I will stay until you have recovered."

Perhaps Namor meant that to be comforting, but it had been a long time since he had ever made her feel that way, and he certainly wasn't making her feel it now. Trapped in the arms of The Feather Seperant God, the King who had flooded the Earth and killed her mama, what comfort could she find here? Yet somehow, she knew she was in no danger, that he would keep his word. And if she did somehow take comfort in the warmth of his chest, of the feeling of a tight embrace keeping her steady as her powers were sapped away leaving her vulnerable, it was only because she had been touch-starved for so long. Unable to be swept into a loved one's embrace or feel their gentle touch, as most were gone or far away.

"I am not selfish," Shuri mumbles.

A part of what Namor said may have been true, that she did want to spite and defy him. That she wasn't ready to stop fighting him yet. But that wasn't what all of this was about. It was more than that. She wanted to help people. She wanted to do good. She wanted to be like her brother, to keep his memory alive.

"No, you are far from it," Namor murmurs against her hair. "You cannot protect everyone. Sometimes, you can only protect a few. That is not weakness and it is not cruelty. In trying to protect everyone you can end up getting everyone hurt. I do not fault your heart for crying out at the loss of life, but in the future, you will see that this is the path that will guarantee our people's safety."

"Your people," she whispers.

"And yours." Shuri will never be certain, but she could have sworn she felt lips press against the crown of her head. "Wakanda will be safe."

"When you deiced to return home, I will permit you to have your Black Panther powers back," Namor says, "if that is what you wish." 

Shuri knows he is trying to needle her, that he wants a reaction. Even though fury is burning in her chest, demanding that she lash out at his presumptions, she bites her tongue. She settles on giving him the middle finger once his back is turned.

Namor busies himself with retrieving the white blanket she had discarded the previous night, and much to her displeasure, she realizes that it was his cloak. He wraps it around his shoulders and fasteners it with a jade broach. Before he leaves the cavern, he looks over his shoulder, watching her as she sits by the fire.

"I must say, I was impressed with how long you were able to hold your breath underwater," Namor speaks lightly. "It was almost like you weren't holding your breath at all."

Shuri watches Namor leave, her Black Panther beads dangling from his belt. A feeling of dread sinks deep within her heart. 

Why did it feel like she had just fallen into a trap?

Chapter Text

The creature is a constant shadow in Shuri's mind. 

She thinks she sees glints of gold in the break of the waves. Flashes of brightly coloured feathers in the darkness of the drowned forests. It visits her in her dreams, coiling around her as she tries to escape, its snout pulled back to reveal razor-sharp teeth. 

The world now knows of its existence. It has destroyed strongholds along the coasts, wrecked dams and seawalls erected to keep the waters at bay and the Talokanil out. A hand full of The Avengers have already fallen victim to the creature's power.

Falcon, Ant-Man, Spiderman, War Machine...

Shuri sits with her legs crossed on her bunk, holograms of the creature surrounding her. There are very few decent photos of it; the flash of its tail, its sleek body wrapped around a ship and dragging it below, sonar images of a giant mass, and snaps of its magnificent mane of feathers. 

With a sigh, Shuri looks at the drawing in her hand, the one she had made when she was a little girl. 

It wasn't a coincidence. 

This drawing meant something.

Her mama was no longer here to answer her questions, and neither was her older brother or Baba, but there was one person who might have an idea. 

"Princess," Okoye crosses her arms over her chest in the Wakandan salute. "It is good to see you, even if it is not in person."

Shuri returns the gesture less enthusiastically. 

"I have something to ask you," Shuri holds up the drawing for Okoye to see. "Do you remember me drawing this as a little girl? I think it was when I was seven, maybe six."

Okoye stands straighter, her face impassive. 

"You drew this... when you were seven?" Okoye looks away, troubled. "That looks like the creature that is terrorizing the world. The Feathered Serpent."

"I found this in my mother's room before we fled from the palace after Namor flooded Wakanda. I think mama was looking at it while I was held in Talokan, that she might have sought it out. I can't remember why I drew this. If it means... something. But now that we know that such a creature exists, it seems too big of a coincidence for me to ignore."

Okoye takes in a deep breath. "When you were a child, there was an incident. The Queen forbid anyone from dredging it up, for fear of upsetting you."

"Me?"

"Do you remember your Aunt Subira? She was your mother's older sister. A scientist like yourself," Okoye explains.

Shuri frowns, her head aching as a face appears in her memory, someone who looked so much like mama when she was younger that it ached. A woman never out of a lab coat, always bringing her cookies and new books to read. The faint smell of lavender that clung to her.

"Do you remember her?" 

Shuri frowns. "Vaguely."

"She was a marine biologist. When you were a little girl, she took you on a research trip... in the Atlantic Ocean."

Shuri looks up sharply, the memory a taunting wisp. 

(A boat caught in a storm, a woman screaming her name, and something erupting from the water... onyx eyes... glistening gold-)

"Something went wrong," Okoye continues gravely. "No one knew what. There were thirty-three people onboard that ship, you and your Aunt included. No one returned to Wakanda... no one, except you."

(The light of the surface world fading as she sunk deeper, deeper, deeper into the frigid waters... a shadow drawing nearer... the eerie echo of what sounded like a whales song-)

"A storm hit the ship," Shuri mumbles, the memory painful to think of. It felt like it was fighting her, not wanting to be remembered. "It came out of nowhere. But... there was something else."

"The ship was destroyed and none of our search parties could locate it or any bodies. Everyone onboard was believed to have perished at sea. The Queen... your mother was devasted. We thought we had lost you too." There is a pained look on Okoye's face before it gives way to bewilderment. "But then... a week later you were found, washed up on a Wakanda river."

(The sand beneath her feet... the sun basking down on her skin, the brightness difficult to adjust to after so long in the dimness... someone letting go of her hand... a promise to meet again-)

"How is that possible?" Shuri shakes her head. "That doesn't make any sense. How could I have survived that when no one else did? Where was I for that week? How did I get back? It does not make sense!"

"No, it doesn't," Okoye says quietly. She hesitates, looking thoughtful before finally adding, "When you were little, you swore that a 'great big feathery lizard' had saved you and brought you home. You only said it once and then never brought it up again. You couldn't remember anything about what happened. The Healer thought that you had suppressed the true memory, that it was too painful for you to relive."

Shuri looks at the drawing, staring into the creature's dark eyes. 

"Okoye... you don't think..."

"It cannot be," but there is no conviction in Okoye's words.

Shuri was certain now. 

"Namor was there that day."

And whatever the creature was, it had saved her. 

The war rages on and Namor's words ring true.

No matter what Shuri and the other scientists create to stop them, The Talokanil find ways around it. 

URSULA, although still effective at countering the sirens song, no longer stops The Talokanil from boarding vessels as they had come up with their own version of noise-cancelling earplugs. It did mean that Surface Dwellers had the advantage of hearing on their side, making it harder for the Talokanil to coordinate themselves as a group and easier to sneak up on as individuals. 

Shuri had customised heat machines that she had weaponised against Namor in their first battle, installing them on boats. They would send a constant burst of heat, functioning somewhat like a heat shield around the vessels. The Talokanil could still get by them if they were determined enough, but only the strongest could and they suffered devasting burns as a result.

Unfortunately, more and more of these machines were finding themselves mysteriously malfunctioning at the worst possible times. It was put down to poor quality in material (resources were becoming harder and harder to get a hold of) but Shuri knows from having personally examined the technology that they had been sabotaged. The work of War Dogs. 

The Feathered Serpent took care of the larger structures meant to protect what little land was left from the rising waters. Each time it surfaced near land, the very Earth would quake with seismic waves, crumpling dams, seawalls and forts. Any that still remained, the creature collapsed with powerful swings of its tail or battering its body against them. 

The most devasting blow was when the satellites were destroyed, making communication around the globe extremely difficult. It is in that moment that every nation knows there is a traitor among them, for thus far the Talokanil have shown no indication of having technology capable of breaching the atmosphere. Shuri keeps her mouth shut, knowing that it had to have been Wakanda. 

The world feels like it is getting smaller and smaller.

People are becoming scarcer. 

There are hardly any nations left, most have vanished beneath the waves. 

It feels like there is barely any hope left to win.

And yet, every morning, Shuri rises from where she had fallen asleep the previous night (on the floor, at her desk, the kitchen counter surrounded by glowing holograms of new weapons and defences).

And keeps trying. 

The world has found out that Wakanda is the ally of Talokan. 

Shuri doesn't know how they know, but they know. Someone may have gotten past Wakanda's shields and discovered the cloudless skies and Talokanil that walk peacefully among them. A remaining nation could have captured a War Dog on a saboteur mission and tortured the information out of them. Perhaps a fleeing Wakandan has confessed what is going on and the information has been spread. 

Either way, Wakanda has been branded the enemy.

Shuri is almost flung into a cell, but The Avengers vouch for her. They speak of all her contributions thus far, how is it thanks to her that they have even survived as long as they have. They speak of her role in aiding the world against Thanos. Of her brother's role too. That if anyone has earned their trust and deserves respect, it is her. 

They interrogate her, The Avengers only allowing it if one of them is present in the room with her. Bucky stays in the corner, glaring at the SHIELD operative every time he makes a snide remark about her loyalty to the world or the possibility of being a double agent. When the man starts to get physical, practically spitting in her face in anger, Bucky shoves him against the wall and warns him off. They want to know where the Talokanil are based - where their home or military outposts are.

Shuri cannot tell them for she truly doesn't know.

Shuri doesn't know if she would tell them where Talokan was, even if she did know.

The thought of the city blown to pieces, its people fleeing as their vibranium sun flickers out of existence, makes her sick to her stomach, leaving her nauseous for days as the possibility mulls inside her thoughts. She cannot stop thinking of the children playing pok-a-tok. Of the mother who held her baby close to her chest, a look of utter love on her face. Two Talokanil women swimming hand in hand, laughing as they watched a man flee from a particular angry octopus. Of Namor showing her his beautiful kingdom, a gentle smile on his face as he watched the people that he had spent centuries protecting. 

Shuri is allowed to continue working on her weather modifier and other projects, but she knows she is now being watched. Everything she does is 'secretly' monitored - as if she is stupid enough not to notice when such things are happening. Her work is 'covertly' triple-checked. She has found bugs in her room - which she promptly made sure were blinded and deafened. The scientists that she has been working with these past few months in a Tensesse hastily build research centre, are now giving her the cold shoulder and keeping their distance. 

Shuri did not want to stay here anymore, not while she was being treated like she were an enemy that would stab them in the back once the lights were out. After everything she had done, after everything she had lost, after everything she had given up, they were treating her like this? Like she was the villain. As if it hadn't been bad enough when they refused to aid her country when it had suffered a never-ending rain. 

Shuri avoids the others too, focusing on her work. But it becomes harder the more she notices the wary looks on people's faces, the side glares they would give her, and the doubt in their tones as they discussed her new creations. She overhears them whispering about potential ways she could have sabotaged the new weapons, equipment and computer systems. One day it results in a screaming match and the scientists are lucky she does not have her panther claws anymore otherwise they would have suffered more than a bloody nose and black eye. 

If she could move away on her own, she would, but she knows that if she doesn't play this game, let them think they have her tightly controlled under their thumbs, life will be made even harder for her. She would lose the safety behind their strongholds. Would no longer have first dibs on materials and energy for her projects. They would not accept any of her creations, even if she could build them. They would be too suspicious. 

So she grits her teeth, screams into her pillow when she is alone, squashes her squishy stress squid until it bursts in a puff of flour, and persists. 

She has endured so much already. 

She will not let petty people break her. 

If a God cannot do it, mortals certainly will not. 

It is the middle of the night when the rumble of thunder rudely awakens Shuri. She shoots up from where she has fallen asleep at her desk, just in time for the room to be washed in a flashing red light, the research facilities alarms blaring. 

They are under attack. 

Shuri scurries around her room, stuffing everything of importance into her rucksack; her laptop, her sketchbooks, various gadgets and some clothes. She is still dressed in the outfit from the other day; simple black jeans, a plain orange cosy jumper and her lab coat (the end of the world, much to Shuri's displeasure, was not fashion friendly). She shoves on a long black coat and hauls her rucksack onto her shoulders.

Outside her room is chaos. Soldiers with guns race to their battle stations, scientists stumble over themselves as they haul equipment around, and civilians flock downstairs towards the escape pods. Everyone is shoving and pushing, their panicked chatter growing with every deafening boom and gunfire outside. The alarm is a steady wail through it all. 

Shuri almost goes upstairs to the shipyard to join the fight, but she stops herself at the staircase when her hand fails to grasp her panther beads no longer around her neck.

Namor had taken them, along with her powers.

She doesn't have much in the means of weaponry. SHEILD had insisted that if she wasn't being tossed into a cell and the key thrown away, then she was forbidden from having weapons on her, nor was she allowed to work with them without supervision. It left her in a precarious position. Defenceless not only from The Talokanil and their King, but from the growing hostility she faces at the base. 

It had been Bucky who had snuck her in a few weapons to defend herself; a taser that was currently tucked into her back pocket, a powerful laser pen disguised as a chubby kitty keyring, and a tube of ten miniature grenades hidden in a Minto sweetie wrapper - 'make sure to remember that it isn't sweeties in there,'  Bucky had joked, then three hours later nearly proceeded to make that exact mistake. 

Shuri bit her lip, closing her eyes as she considered just how much help she would really be if she went up there.

No superstrength, superspeed, increased agility or endurance. One good punch could kill her if it hit the right place. Injuries would take longer to heal if she survived them, and with how scarce medical supplies were the chances of dying of infection were high. What little weapons she had were not designed for full-out battle.

Going up there was suicide, dangerous not only to herself but to others. She would be a liability. 

And if Namor's warriors caught her this time there was no guarantee he would let her go again.

Everything would have been for nothing.

With a curse at her powerlessness, Shuri hurries downstairs, following the evacuation process. The corridors were empty now and easier to navigate. Hopefully, there were still escape pods left-

The building shakes violently, the emergency lights flickering momentarily. Shuri tumbles into the wall, barely keeping her balance. The spine-chilling roar that follows quakes the ground once more, almost making Shuri fall to her knees. 

The Feathered Serpent was here. 

Which meant Namor was too. 

Fantastic, Shuri thinks. This day cannot get any-

Something further down the corridor explodes and the wall bursts, water gushing from the man-sized hole. 

For Bast's sake! 

Shuri pushes herself off the wall, sprinting back the way she came. With a violent surge, the water floods the corridors, nipping at her heels. She can hear more explosions behind her and wonders if it's the waterbombs that the Talokanil utilise or if the building is being swallowed by the sea. With a groan, Shuri launches herself up the staircase and out into the shipyard. 

She expects a battlefield. 

She finds silence. 

The colossal concrete seawall has been breached, having been cleaved in half, allowing the sea to pour in and cover the ground in a layer of water. The massive crane used to lower the newly built ships into the sea is broken and bent. The ground is littered with fallen stacks of shipping containers, their contents scattered. Small fires burn across the yard, wafting black smoke into the air. There were bodies strewn about, covered in blood and lifeless. 

Shuri swallows hard, her hands shaking as she observes her surroundings. There were no signs of life, neither friend nor foe.

She creeps further into the yard, keeping close to the containers and shadows. Every time lightning lights up the sky in brilliant flashes of silver, she holds her breath and stills, waiting for the thunder to quiet before tiptoeing further. 

Just because she couldn't see anyone, didn't mean they weren't there. She made a mental note to create a new pair of sneakers for herself, ones that didn't make a sound while walking through ankle-high water.  

She would have to wade her way through a maze of shipping containers to get to the other side of the yard, where there was a second set of emergency escape pods in the lower levels. Hopefully, they had not been flooded.

If they were she would have to locate a functional boat and if there were none, wait out the storm, hoping that the danger had passed and see if any were repairable. Worst-case scenario, a car would do. It wouldn't get her far, the further inland to the remoter less populated areas of the country didn't have as much infrastructure in place to control the flooding, making it nearly impossible to travel without a boat. 

Oh, I should have stayed in Scotland-

Lightning flashes-

Shuri slaps her hand over her mouth, choking back a scream. 

On a tall stack of containers, a shadow had appeared with the lightning. A monstrously large shadow; snake-like with a wild mane, its open mouth showing the silhouette of fangs. 

Shuri ducks down, quickly crawling behind a fallen container. She can hear it now, slithering around through the water, a sinister hiss as it fails to find whatever it seeks. Shuri watches its shadow appear on the ground, this time closer than before. 

If she doesn't move now it will come around the corner and see her! She holds her breath as she shuffles through the water to the other side of the container, again narrowly missing being seen. What she finds makes her want to be sick. 

Bast damn it, Shuri thinks desperately. 

It's a dead end. A fallen container is blocking her path. Through a hole in the broken steel, she can see the entrance to the escape pods taunting her. She was so close. If she had just gotten to them-

The creature hisses. 

Shuri turns and finds the serpent's shadow edging closer and closer to her with every flash of lightning. It opens its mouth, showing rows of sharp teeth and two elongated fangs dripping from the roof of its mouth. 

Shuri shuts her eyes tightly. 

She can hear it coming, ready to round the corner and find her-

A man screams. 

Shuri's eyes snap open, turning to see the creature's shadow has pivoted. It hisses loudly, then darts off with startling speed. Shuri scampers to her feet and peeks around the corner. 

The Feathered Serpent is heading towards an older scientist with greying hair and glasses - Jonathan, Shuri remembers his name, a stuck-up annoyance who was never shy to voice his displeasure at her work. 

Would it really be so bad if I left him to be snake bait? Shuri winces, knowing the answer. Yes, unfortunately, it would be.

Shuri pulls one of the grenade pellets from her pocket and runs out from her hiding place.

"Hey, Hissy!" 

The Feathered Serpent halts, its head whipping back to look at her.

Shuri regrets every single decision she has ever made to get her to this point in life. 

Seeing it barely visible in water was scary enough. Seeing its shadow as it creeps closer was terrifying. But now, seeing it in the light of burning fires and lightning, was  petrifying. It was massive, more so as it lifted its head into the skies to glare down at her with fathomless black eyes. Colourful, long feathers burst from its skull like a lion's mane. Every scale on its body glistened like shining gold, reflecting the dancing flames. And its teeth! Each one was almost the size of her! 

Even if she had The Black Panther strength, there was no way she could fight this thing one on one. And now here she was, powerless and alone and so very, very small in comparison. Jonathan was already halfway down the dock - the coward - allowing the creature to be enraptured by her. 

It slunk towards her, slithering across the ground. 

Shuri backs up until she hits a cargo container. 

This is it, Shuri thinks. This is how I die... eaten alive by a giant, feathery slinky. 

She clutches the grenade tightly in her sweaty palm. If she could throw it fast enough towards the cargo containers to the side, it might buy her enough time to floor it. Better still, if it gets buried underneath the towers of steel. But she was so close to them, if she wasn't fast enough on her feet she could end up being the one buried. 

Within one flash of lightning and the next, The Feathered Serpent was gone. 

And there stood Namor. 

"You're The Feathered Serpent," Shuri whispers, a little breathless. "It's literally you." 

"The clue is in my name, Princess. They do not call me The Featheted Serpent God for nothing."

If the anger in his voice was not a big enough clue about his foul mood, Namor's eyes were. They burned with a wild fury, almost unhinged in their intensity. Shuri's instincts screamed at her to run, but he was on her between one blink and the next. His hand was around her throat, pinning her against the container. Shuri cries out, wincing as her head hit steel.

"Where is she?" Namor asks, his voice hard.

"Who?" Shuri blurts out, her fingers prying uselessly at the hand grasping her throat. It wasn't tight enough to cut off her air supply, but the threat was there. 

"Do not play coy with me, not about this. If you do not tell me I will end this foolish game of yours now and drag you back to Talokan kicking and screaming."

Talokan? Not Wakanda. 

"I am serious. I do not know who you are talking about-"

"Cualli! A Talokanil child who was captured by the colonisers."

"Why was a child at a battlefield?" Shuri demands to know, outraged. "Tell me you are not sending children to fight!" 

"She was not supposed to be there," Namor grits out. "But children do not always do as they are told."

"I do not know where she is. Now let me go!"

"Swear to me on your mother's name that you had nothing to do with the child's abduction. Swear to me that you truly do not know where they are."

He leans in close, their noses lightly touching. There is no light in his eyes, nothing but an all-consuming rage. A God whose wrath has been evoked, who will show no mercy to those who have crossed him. 

"How could even think that of me?" Shuri sneers. She wants to claw his eyes out for daring to mention her mother. "I would never hurt a civilian let alone a child!"

"Swear it!"

"For Bast's sake, I swear it!" Shuri shouts. 

Namor closes his eyes, breathing in deeply through his nose. He releases her neck and when he opens his eyes, they look more brown than black as the storm inside them calms. 

"Forgive me, Princess. I had to be sure. I didn't mean to scare you."

Yes, you did, Shuri thinks, one hand slipping into her back pocket. You were reminding me how powerless I am. 

"I have heard her parents' frantic prayers, begging me to find their child," Namor admits quietly. "Wherever she is, she will be suffering, if she hasn't already been killed."

If a government agency has captured a Talokanil child - or any rogue human organisations - there could only be two reasons for them keeping her alive. One, to torture any information about the Talokanil (their numbers, their culture, their location, their technology) or to run tests and experiments to better understand their biology, discovering weaknesses to exploit. 

Shuri can hear the grief in Namor's voice and knows he is more than aware of the horrors the child may be subjected to.

It was one thing she could never deny about him - no matter how much she wished she could paint him as nothing but a heartless villain with not a speck of goodness within him - he loved his people. All of them. Regardless of their position within their society, he saw them all as precious. They were his children. His to provide for. His to protect. His to cherish. It had been his sole purpose since before he was even born.

No matter her contempt for him, no matter how much she despised what he had done, she could not help but admire his devotion.

If only it hadn't sent you down this path of destruction... 

"You do not look well," Namor says suddenly, frowning at her.

Shuri blinks, caught off guard, then scoffs. The nerve of this feather-headed- 

He must see the offence she has taken and quickly explains himself. "I meant that you look tired. Does something ail you?"

"What do you think is wrong, Genuis?" Shuri asks in disbelief. "You cannot be seriously asking me that!" 

"If you are tired of fighting-"

"I will never be tired of fighting you!"

Namor tilts his head, looking her over with a sweeping glance. He looks contemplative, like he is trying to decide something and had yet to reach a decision. 

What does Namor see when he looks at her now?

A far cry from the Princess he draped in jewels and finery in Talokan. Or the Black Panther clad in shining vibranium armour, her claws sharpened and poised.

No, she is both of those things and neither.  

A worn-down girl in wrinkly clothes, her hair in desperate need of TLC as her hair routine has been neglected. There is wariness in her bones, a deep seeded exhaustion that he must see. 

She has fought and fought and fought.

She has lost and lost and lost. 

Yet she is still standing. Still fighting. Even as her body aches to rest, as her eyes fight to stay open. Even as the devasting hurt in her heart threatens to consume her whole. 

"The time for fighting is over, Princess," Namor says softly, seemingly having decided something, "you are going to kill yourself if you don't start taking care of yourself properly."

"My health is none of your concern."

Shuri tries to push past him, but he forces her back against the steel container. He rests his hands on either side of her head, blocking her in with his body. He still has not learned the simple concept of personal boundaries. 

"I let you go the last time we met," Namor says thoughtfully, a sly smile on his lips. "I do not remember agreeing to do so this time."

No, Shuri thinks, every inch of her body tensing. No, this is not over. Not yet, not by a long shot. I've come too far to give up now. 

Shuri licks her lips, trying to think of a way out of this.

Namor's eyes trace the movement. 

Shuri feels herself freeze as Namor leans forward, stopping a whisper from her lips. For an insane moment, she thinks he might close the distance between them and kiss her. But he wouldn't do that. There was no reason for him to-

And yet, she can feel every inch of his body as he gently presses it against her. One arm still blocks her in, narrowing the world down to only the two of them. She can feel his breath warm upon her face. Count his eyelashes one by one. Namor raises one hand to trace the side of her face - his touch sending a shiver down her body - then rests it on her cheek. There is no anger on his face now, just a tenderness that should not be there. No towards her. And still, he draws closer...

Panicking, Shuri's eyes dart away from his face, looking over his shoulder. 

"Jonathan, you idiot! Run!" Shuri screams. 

Namor whips around, body tensed for confrontation-

And finds no one there. 

Giving Shuri the opportunity to free her taser from her pocket and fire it. Namor cries out in pain as the currents flow through him and he falls to his knees hard. 

"That is the oldest trick in the book," Shuri tutts, admittedly a little disappointed. "So old you were probably there when it was written." 

Shuri flings the taser aside and runs. 

A little shock is not going to keep him down long, if at all. He was probably already recovered, getting to his feet, ready to chase after her as she high-tailed it down the maze of containers. Shuri doesn't think she can run any faster until she hears him roar her name with utter fury. That motivates her legs into high gear and Shuri runs faster than she ever has - or ever will again.

For good measure, Shuri tosses the grenade pellet she has been clutching the entire time. It explodes, the blast almost knocking her off her feet. Containers fall like dominions behind her, sweeping up a cloud of dust and debris, giving her some cover. She doesn't look over her shoulder to see how close he is nor the damage she has brought. Doesn't dare stop to rest even as her lungs and legs burn. No, if she stops now retribution will be swift. 

Shuri makes it to the staircase across the shipyard, leaps down the stairs three at a time and throws herself into the last escape pod. 

The amphibious vehicle blares to life and speeds her down the underground escape tunnels. 

Shuri flops back in her seat... and laughs. 

For someone without powers, escaping a God is no small feat. 

Perhaps she is not quite so helpless as she thinks. 

It is not her fight. 

Getting involved will only further complicate matters. It will risk her place among the surviving surface people. It could get her killed. She could be searching for a ghost, risking everything for nothing. Was her help even deserved? After all, how many surface children had perished to the rains?

None of these rational thoughts stop her. 

There are many systems that Shuri has been 'locked out' of, all of which she had promptly hacked. With how limited the internet was now, thanks to destroyed satellites and rising oceans, it admittedly takes longer than it otherwise would have. But, Shuri is nothing if not resourceful. 

Shuri finds the Talokanil child within a few days. She is being kept in a research facility in France. 

According to the reports, they had been experimenting on her. Testing her endurance without water, looking for substances that were toxic to her, taking blood samples and interrogating her. 

The photograph of the girl is heart-wrenching. She looks no older than eight. Her periwinkle skin has splotches of darker blue (bruises?), there are injection marks on her neck and upper arms. They have taken her clothes and jewellery, replaced them with a standard hospital nighty and leggings. The girl has been strapped to a metal table with straps, a crudly built water mask covering her face. 

This is Cualli, the child that Namor is searching for.

And this is not a fate she deserves. 

Shuri knows that she will not be able to negotiate the girl's release. That those holding her captive will argue that this is for the greater good. That they could learn invaluable information that could aid them in the war efforts. 

They would not be wrong.

But Shuri will not stand by as an innocent child suffers. 

Shuri is able to have herself transferred to the research base in France, now that the one in Tensesse has been destroyed. This base has received a rather large influx of new faces the past weeks, so most are unaware of who she is and the suspiciousness that follows her. 

It allows her to stay under the radar, and let's her create various equipment to aid her in her mission. 

It is late at night when she finds the Talokanil child. She is trapped inside a claustrophobic nightmare, a large glass cylinder filled with water, that stretches from the floor to the ceiling. There is only enough room to float upright. The little girl is curled up at the bottom of the tank, her long waves of hair floating around her. 

The terrified look in her eyes breaks Shuri's heart. 

There are no scientists around at this hour, and Shuri has already knocked out the guards. The cameras have been put on loop, so anyone monitoring the room from elsewhere will only see the same repeated video of an empty room with the Talokanil inside the glass. She has roughly fifteen minutes before another guard patrol comes around. 

Shuri taps on the glass and says, "Cualli."

The child looks up at her name, but stays curled up in her ball. 

"I'm here to help you," Shuri say in Yucatec Maya, having learned it to help her in battle with the Talokanil.

The girl doesn't react, only hides into herself more.

Shuri winces as Griot reminds her of depleting time window. She doesn't have time to waste, but the girl is afraid and has no reason to trust her. Unless...

"K'uk'ulkan send me."

The name brings forth a spark of life in the girls eyes. She swims to the glass, placing her hands on it. Excitedly, hopefully, Cualli asks in her native lanuage, "K'uk'ulkan sent you?" 

Shuri nods. 

Is this the power of your name, Namor? The envy prickles at her. His people trusted him. He inspired hope in them. 

Her people had not. Okoye, Nakia, M'Baku, and Riri. They all thought her mad, made sure to remind her every time they spoke to her - as rare as the chances were. Even before all of this began, when she had been Chief of the Science Department in Wakanda, so many of her people viewed her creations with skeptism and wariness. The Child Who Scorns Tradition, not a creator who wanted to help. And now even the rest of the world had lost what little faith they had in her, treating her like the enemy. 

"I have to drain the water from the tank, but once you're out I'll put this water mask on you, letting you breathe."

Shuri holds up the water mask she has created in secret; it is similar to the one dawned by the Talokanil warriors, including its appearance so it will at least be familiar to the girl. A small comfort, hopefully. 

"Get ready to hold your breath."

The girl nods. 

Shuri activates the waters pumps, draining the tube. The girl visibly starts to panic, but Shuri usheres reassurances, promising her she would be safe. With the water gone, Shuri lowers the glass and quickly attaches the water breathing apparatus she had made for the girl. 

"Are you okay?" Shuri asks gently, quickly scanning the child with her kimoyo beads. She isn't seriously injured, at least not physically, other than some bruises and scratches. 

The girl sniffles, and shakes her head. "I want to go home. I didn't mean to get too close to the ship. I just wanted to help my brother."

Shuri pulls the little girl into a quick hug. Her breathing shudders as she fights back a sob.

Now is not the time to cry, Shuri scolds herself. 

"I promise you that I will that I will get you home to your family. Stay by my side and keep quiet. Can you do that? 

The girl hiccups but nods. 

Shuri takes Cualli's hand. They scurry through the complex, Shuri pulling Cualli behind pillars and doors when her sensors pick up movement on their path. It will not be long before they discover that the Talokanil girl is missing. When they do all hell would break loose. 

And Shuri would be not only an enemy of Talokan, but the world now too. 

Chapter Text

"Shuri, what were you thinking?"

"That I didn't want an innocent child to get tortured?"

It was taking Shuri a lot of willpower not to crush all of her means of communication into dust; every conversation she had over them seemed to end in an argument. Admittedly, this was her first one with Bucky.

"They think they were right about you now, that you're in leagues with The Talokanil," Bucky scolds her, running a hand through his hair. "You're to be captured on sight, and I quote 'preferably alive'."

"Preferable? So the alive part is optional?" Shuri muses. "I'm starting to think they don't like me very much."

"Shuri, don't make jokes right now. Why didn't you tell me? I could have helped, you didn't have to take that risk on your own."

"If you or anyone else had helped, you would be on the same boat as me."

With nowhere to go, no resources and utterly alone. She would not paint a target on anyone else's back, she wouldn't ask them to be forced into this life. Life was already difficult enough. Besides, how could she ask that of them? To help the enemy who had wrought them so much pain? It was madness that she was doing it, risking everything...

"That should have been my choice to make. We're friends, Shuri. You should have given me the chance to be there for you. After everything you've done for me," Bucky speaks firmly. There are worry lines on his face, the same exhaustion she feels weighing down his shoulders. When the silence drags painfully, he smiles ruefully, "I swear, you are the reason I've been getting so many grey hairs these days."

Shuri snorts despite herself. 

"I'm sorry, Bucky," Shuri says softly, "but I had to do it."

"I know. I'll keep you informed about what's going on inside The Resistance. If I can, I'll try and get some resources to you - food, water, anything you need-"

"Don't worry about me, Bucky. You need to focus on the rest of your team. If you were to be found helping me then they'll stop trusting you too," Shuri cuts in. "The Avengers can't be seen picking my side."

"Officially, The Avengers are looking for you. In reality, we're turning a blind eye," Bucky winces as he adds, "though that is a controversial decision, so try and avoid us if you can. There are those here that don't trust you, others who aren't sure what to think."

"Thank you, Bucky."

"What happened to the kid?"

"She's asleep downstairs" Shuri explains. "She's doing well, everything considering. I'm still trying to work out a way to get her back to Talokan. She doesn't know where it is either but she has told me if we can find a conch shell she can use it to summon Namor."

Shuri remembers asking Cualli if she had any means of communicating with Talokan and the child had merely asked for a conch shell. Cualli had explained as quietly as a mouse, that a Talokanil did not need any special shell - like the ones that had been given to Shuri and her mama - instead, they could use any to call upon Namor for assistance or to let their prayers be heard. The science on that one was something Shuri wanted to look into, but such questions were on the back burner till the world wasn't ending.

"Where are you going to get a conch shell?"

Conch shells were not native to France, one of their main habitats being the Caribbean islands. Getting there would take too long and was rife with dangers that Shuri did not want to subject Cualli to. To get to the Caribbean, they would have to cross The Atlantic Ocean, chancing encounters with Surface People who still used it as a trade route for resources. They would have to contend with treacherous weather which would be ill-advised in the double-deck cruiser yacht that Shuri had managed to acquire, the boat not fit for such a long journey. Not to mention the supplies they would need.

Shuri came up with a different plan.

"Le Musée des Coquillages!" Shuri grins. "A seashell museum in France. We're already above it. I should be able to finish making my dive suit in a few days and once it's done I'll hop down, grab a conch shell, get Cualli back to Talokan then continue working on the weather modifier."

"You make it sound so easy," Bucky huffs, crossing his arms. Hesitantly, he asks, "Can't Wakanda communicate with them?"

Shuri goes quiet for a moment. "Wakanda has been ignoirng me. I've reached out to Okoye, Nakia and M'Baku, but they wouldn't respond."

"Do you think something happened?" Bucky asks, concerned.

"No," Shuri sighs. "I think this is another punishment for attacking Namor. Cut me off from my friends. My home. Make me more alone than I already am."

"Shuri, you're not alone. You still got me."

Shuri smiles, but it is a sad smile.

She doesn't really have Bucky anymore. There's only so much he can do to help her without risking himself and the remaining Avengers. The chances of them ever seeing each other face to face again were slim. Wakanda has cut contact with her - either by force or possibly by choice. As Namor had pointed out, she truly did not know what was going on there anymore, too obsessed with quelling the rain and protecting as many people as she could.

She is alone.

But it doesn't matter, Shuri tells herself, refusing to let the self-pity swallow her, Black Panthers are solitary creatures.

They were made to hunt alone.

Shuri wasn't sure at first if Cualli was a timid creature by nature or if she was still shying away after what had happened to her.

During the first few days on the boat, Cualli stayed downstairs in the cabin. She sat curled up on the bed at the end of the room, staring at the sea. She didn't speak much. Her movements were cautious and wary, louder sounds making her flinch. The most aminate Shuri saw her was at meal times when she offered the girl various dishes. It turns out, Shuri had rescued the fussiest eater Talokan had to offer - somehow, she was even fussier than T'Challa! Cualli would wrinkle her nose at everything, sticking her tongue out in distaste after trying something new. It took a few days before Shuri manages to gently urge Cualli into telling her what she would like to eat.

All the dishes that she lists, Shuri lacks the ingredients. Before she had spirited Cualli away from the Research Facility, Shuri had stocked up the Cruiser Yacht that she planned to steal for their escape with non-perishable foods, mostly cans of fish, meat and beans - none of which tasted very good, so Shuri couldn't really blame Cualli for her reluctance to eat it.

Shuri manages to toss together a meal that vaguely resembles tamales, but the less-than-quality ingredients make it bland.

Cualli furrows her nose, "Is all surface world food this bad or is it just your cooking?"

Shuri's mouth drops open.

"I will have you know I am an excellent cook when the ingredients are decent." If T'Challa were here, he would have choked on whatever he was eating, before giving her a dubious look. "Though last time I properly cooked a full meal was before... all this. It didn't go quite to plan. I got banned from the kitchen by the Chief - though I still think he overreacted. He thought I was trying to assassinate my brother through food poisoning."

Cualli giggles, "My mama cannot cook either. Neither can my big brother. He caught a squid for dinner and served it, but it turns out the squid was still alive. Ink went everywhere! Papa was not happy."

Shuri laughs at the thought of a family of Talokanil sitting down for a quiet meal, only for said meal to blink up at them and then squirt them all with ink. 

From that night onwards, Cualli comes out of her shell more and more. She is a cheeky spirit, filled with giggles and energy.

Most days, she sits cross-legged beside Shuri as Shuri works on her diving suit, curiously asking questions and handing tools over when asked. Shuri knows she could just ask Cualli to go down and retrieve the conch shell herself, but she doesn't want to put the child at any potential risk. 

Shuri manages to scavenge some clothes for Cualli to wear from a partially submerged building; dresses, leggings, flipflops and long t-shirts (one of which, by pure coincidence, was a t-shirt with The Little Mermaid on it, which Shuri found very fitting). Shuri is even able to find some toys for her to play with; a barbie doll, a rubrics cube, a box full of lego, and a Sebastian plushie.

At night, Shuri sets up the old TV and connects it to her kimono beads, letting her access her collection of American movies to share with Cualli; Atlantis, Help! I'm A Little Yellow Fish, Shark Tale, and of course The Little Mermaid. Cualli had many interesting opinions on the surface's worlds perception of life under the sea - much to Shuri's entertainment.

One night, Shuri sets up karaoke. This is only after being assured that youngling Talokanil were forbidden to be taught the siren's song until they were adults and only if they chose to become warriors. It was a highly guarded secret, considered too dangerous to not be treated with extreme care. Shuri lost that karaoke night, though Cualli brightly assured her that her voice would be loved back in Talokan - though she wouldn't be winning any singing competitions against them.

It isn't until Shuri finishes her diving suit and retrieves the prettiest conch shell in the museum that she realises she was going to miss this. The realisation was like a sledgehammer to the gut. Making her hesitate in the dark, murky waters of the museum.

For the first time in years, Shuri had been waking up excited for the day. Her smiles and laughter had not been forced nor were they as rare, Cualli able to bring them out of her so easily. It was nice to have company, someone who didn't treat her with suspicion and scorn or try and convince her that the world was doomed, that she was wasting her time on a lost cause. Cualli made the place seem more like a home, bringing a joy and liveliness to the world Shuri hadn't realised she had been missing. Everyone was so busy trying to survive, that they didn't have the chance to just be. 

Once Cuallli blew that shell and placed it in the water... it was going to be over.

She would be alone, never to see the little girl again.

Shuri sighs deeply, closing her eyes.

The water hides her tears as she swims to the surface and hands Cualli the shell.

Like many twilight nights, Shuri finds herself staring at the ocean. She leans against the guardrail, eyes entranced by the dark waters lapping at the side of the boat.

Sometimes, Shuri can hear haunting melodies, not voices or the wind but a strange mix of both. Songs of longing, of friendships yet to be, of a daily life she has caught glimpses of once so very long ago. There is warmth in the song, something comforting and alluring that makes her long to find its source. For hours after she hears it, she always feels empty, like she is missing something.

Sometimes, her feet move on their own. Like a cord has been wrapped around her with every note of the lullaby, and she has to grip the rails to stop herself from falling into the waters. It is not their siren song that has lured sailors to their deaths for centuries. It is something else, something sincere and true, sung innocently with no threat or compulsion. Something that promises peace. 

Perhaps she's just going mad.

All she can see these days is the ocean, stretching endlessly before her in every direction.

"You can hear it too, can't you?"

Shuri is startled to find Cualli standing beside her, wrapped in a quilt. The little girl rubs her eyes tiredly.

"The music?"

"The call of the ocean," Cualli replies. "My brother told me about it. He says whenever we leave the water, it calls for us to come back home. Where it's safe. Where our families and K'uk'ulkan waits for us. Reminding us not to stray for too long. I didn't know what he meant until I was taken from the sea."

"That doesn't sound like something I should hear or feel," Shuri says quietly. "I'm not like you. I'm not from the ocean."

"Maybe you're something else," Cualli mumbles through a yawn.

Shuri shakes her head, smiling. "Come on, let's get you to bed. Tomorrow you'll be getting to go home to your family. No more annoying mask."

Shuri picks up Cualli and takes her to bed, tucking her in with her plushie crab.

Namor's words come back to haunt her that night, that sickly feeling that she has failed to notice something gnawing at her insides. Like there is a puzzle before her with a missing piece she has yet to notice.

I must say, I was impressed with how long you held your breath under the water... almost like you weren't holding it at all.

Shuri cannot sleep.

Tomorrow, she will see Namor again. She cannot envision it as a pleasant reunion, not after she had attacked him again. The way he screamed her name still sends a shiver of dread down her spine and promised nothing good for her. The Feathered Serpent does not forgive nor does he forget. He has already punished her in various ways for previous transgressions on his person - forcing Wakanda into the war, possibly preventing them from speaking to her - what would he do this time?

How would he punish her for her defiance?

What would she do to defy him further, as she had done every time she had encountered him? He brought out the worse in her, an almost compulsive need to rebel against him, even to her own detriment. Sometimes, she could not control herself when he was near. It was so easy to forget who held all the power in their palms, who could so easily end her life. He had kindled a fire inside her with all his slights against her, his presence like gasoline upon the naked flames.

When the skies begin to brighten, only then does Shuri begin to drift on the couch, lulled by the gentle rock of the boat.

She dreams of Namor's Serpent form slithering towards her in the shipyard. His human form appearing between one flash of lightning and the next. His body drenched, hair plastered to his face, dark eyes fixated on her. A hand pinning her to cold steel. The warmth of his body sliding against her own.

The whisper of a kiss that never was.

The day Cualli blows the conch shell, they wait for The Feather Serpent's arrival by playing Pok-A-Tot on the beach.

Shuri sets up a hoop about six feet off the ground, attaching it to a partially collapsed sea wall. It wasn't a game she had ever played, but Griot informed her that the rules were quite simple; the ball was not allowed to touch the ground and participants were not allowed to touch the ball with their hands or feet. The goal was to get the ball through the small hoop. As it turned out, though the rules were simple, the execution of the goal was less so.

Shuri also learned an important fact about Cualli. The girl was a little cheat who took artistic liberties with the point system.

"I don't think you start with ten points, just because of your height disadvantage," Shuri says, hitting the ball with her elbow, knocking it towards the hoop. It misses by a long shot.

Cualli gasps, her hands clasping at her heart. "You think I would cheat?"

Shuri gives her an amused look. "I also thought we weren't allowed to use our hands or feet to touch the ball."

"Hmm I do not remember the feet part," Cualli hums impishly. She charges at the ball, using her head to keep it off the ground.

"Then why did I lose a point for accidentally kicking it?"

"Ohhhh," Cualli drawls, an impish grin on her face. "You can only use your feet at certain points in the day. Like when I did it."

"You are making this up as you go along," Shuri fights back a grin. "Next it'll be an extra ten points for having gills!"

"Now that you mention it."

Shuri burst out laughing.

Cualli reminds Shuri of herself when she was younger. A playful trickster who liked to get up up mischief.

Shuri used to pull similar antics with T'Challa when they were younger, adding new rules and changing existing ones throughout the game. How come these new rules appear only when you are losing? T'Challa would point out, giving her a knowing look. Oh, I just forgot about them, Shuri would lie.

It did not take long before Shuri found herself panting from exhaustion. Pok-A-Tot was not an easy game. It was physically tiring and took tremendous skill, dumb luck (as was Shuri's case), or required cheating (as was Cualli's case). They had been playing for the last hour and Shuri had only managed to get the ball into the hoop once. Cualli had done it seven times, but that was only with the advantage of these mysteriously appearing new rules.

"New rule," Shuri shouts, needing to end this before she died from fatigue. "Next to score the hoop wins the game!"

"New, new rule, I can use my hands!" Cualli grins, running for the ball.

"Oh no, you don't!" Shuri bolts for the ball, kicking it far out of reach, towards the sea.

As soon as she does it, Shuri is hit with a wave of guilt and embarrassment. She has to remind herself that she is playing against a child. That this is just a game and there is no reason to get so competitive. If anything, she should be letting Cualli win to brighten her spirits.

All those thoughts evaporate when Cualli tackles her with a war cry fitting any Talokanil warrior. Shuri stumbles, almost falling over as the little girl latches onto her leg like an octopus. Shuri is forced to drag the both of them slowly across the sand, towards the ball.

No mercy anymore.

Shuri was winning this.

"This is what you are resorting to? This is childish!"

"I will not lose to an old lady!"

"Old lady!" Shuri chokes. "I think I need to teach you some manners, you cheeky little starfish!"

Shuri leans down and tickles Cualli's sides.

Cualli shrieks with laughter, but refuses to let go. In the chaos, Shuri loses her balance and hits the sand hard. Cualli releases her, and the two lie side by side, covered head to toe in sand, and start giggling.

It is only when the ball soars over their heads and goes straight through the hoop, that their laughter stops. Both girls slowly turn in sync to see who had thrown the ball.

Who they find makes Shuri's heart feel like it could burst from her ribcage.

A dripping wet Namor, watching them with an amused smile. His hair sticks to his face, shells and jade gleaming in the daylight. If he is surprised to see Shuri, he does not show it. Who knows how long he had been watching their game, having time to school his features into careful politeness for the child's sake. If Cualli wasn't here, Shuri has a feeling this reunion would be going very differently - she can see it in the heated glimpse he throws her way.

"K'uk'ulkan!" Cualli shrieks excitedly, scrambling to her feet. She skids to an ungraceful stop a foot away, her hands spread out in Talokan's greeting, her head bowed respectfully. "You came!"

"Of course I came, my child."

Namor kneels beside the girl, his hands resting on either side of her face, his forehead touching hers. He speaks to her quietly as he checks her for injuries.

"I was just about to win the game!" Cualli says proudly, "Will you play with us, K'uk'ulkan?"

"Your parents will be worried," Shuri gently tells her. "You need to go home now."

Namor turns his attention to Shuri, watching her curiously. 

"Cualli, why don't you go back inside the boat? I need to speak to-" she will not say the name his enemies call him in front of Cualli, but she refuses to say the name gifted to him by his people either,"-The Feathered Serpent alone."

Once Cualli is gone, Namor switches to isiXhosa. There is a challenge in his eyes as he speaks, his smile gone. "You said you did not know where she was."

"I didn't, but I found her."

"And your comrades let you?" Namor questions sceptically.

"Nothing for you to worry about. You have the girl, so take her back to Talokan."

"You seem to be under the impression that I will not be coming back for you."

"You can come back for me," Shuri shrugs one shoulder, "but I will be long gone by then."

"I very much doubt they simply let you take her. You disobeyed them, stole her from under their noses," He gives her an impressed look, but it gives way to doubt. "Do you think they will welcome you back with open arms? That they won't finally get rid of you as so many wanted to?"

It seems Wakanda's war dogs were keeping tabs on her and relaying the information to Namor. She shouldn't have been surprised, not after their last encounters.  

"That is none of your- "

Namor steps closer, his voice hard. "I am making it my concern. I cannot control what the colonisers do. If they find you, they will not let you live. I saw the marks on Cualli, I know they have hurt her. She is nothing but a defenceless child, what do you think they would do to the Princess of Wakanda?"

"I will figure it out on my own," Shuri grits out.

Namor's laugh is bitter. "Your stubbornness is exasperating as it is admirable."

"Better to be stubborn than a genocidal-"

"Are you two fighting?" 

Shuri and Namor glance down, finding Cualli blinking up at them.

"Nope," Shuri says with a false smile. "Na- He was just telling me that you're both leaving now."

"What about dinner? It is ready! You promised to let me try trifle! You even went through all the hassle of finding the ingredients!"

Before Shuri can offer to pack Cualli some trifle in a container to take with her, Namor cuts in. The shrewdness in his voice puts Shuri instantly on edge, and she knows he is up to something.

"It seems you have been a generous host to the little one, I would not want to be rude and let your food go to waste. We shall stay for dinner."

Shuri blinks, completely caught off guard by the declaration. He had to be joking. He couldn't seriously be suggesting the three of them have dinner together. As if the two of them were not mortal enemies who had tried to kill each other. 

But Cualli has taken Namor's word as permission enough and grabs Shuri and Namor's hands, happily dragging them towards the boat.

This was her punishment.

It had to be.

Namor was revelling in his discomfort, savouring every moment of awkwardness she was being forced to endure at the ridiculousness of this situation. A child Talokaniel, a Feathered Serpent God who had flooded the world, and the Princess of Wakanda who opposed him, all squeezed together at the cramped table in the cabin for dinner. All because Namor was a sadistic snake and Shuri apparently couldn't say no to Cualli's puppy dog look.

Maybe it won't be so bad, Shuri thinks to herself as everyone starts eating. He's too proud to talk with his mouth full so he should be quiet. And who knows, maybe he'll choke to death on a fish bone?

They are barely five minutes into eating when Cualli decides to whisper to Namor in what was decidedly not a whisper. "Do not be too harsh on the food, Shuri is not a very good cook, but she tries her best."

"If it is not good you did not need to stay for it," Shuri mumbles, taking a bite with her fork. Okay, the food wasn't good, but they could not expect gourmet meals at the end of the world!

Namor chuckles.

Shuri stabs her food with more force than necessary.

They eat in silence until Cualli decides to break it again. Shuri does not remember the girl being this talkative in the prior two weeks that they have been together. 

"Are you married, Shuri?"

Shuri nearly chokes on her drink. She clears her throat, "No."

"Interesting," Shuri does not like that mischievous tone. She definitely doesn't like it when Cualli adds, "Neither is K'uk'ulkan!"

Do not look at Namor, Shuri thinks. Do not look at him.

"Hmm, that does not surprise me," Shuri says innocently.

"Speaking of marriage," Namor speaks with equal casualness. "A few of the Wakanda Elders suggested something to me a few moons ago."

Shuri swallows hard and feigns ease, even though she feels sick to her stomach as she waits for whatever bombshell Namor is about to drop on her. Idly, she nudges her food with her fork, quickly losing her appetite. "Oh really, and what is that?"

"They suggested a marital union to strengthen Talokan and Wakanda's alliance," he shrugs, like it was no big deal. "Several of the Elders' daughters are agreeable to such a union. And I will not deny that it would have its advantages. They are very beautiful."

Shuri hadn't realised how tightly she was holding her fork. Why was it hard to breathe all of a sudden?

"I feel sorry for any poor girl stuck with you as their husband," For that quip, Shuri switches to her own language, so as not to offend Cualli.

"I bet they are not as pretty as Shuri!" Cualli chimes in helpfully.

"No, but I think it would be very hard to find someone quite as beautiful as Princess Shuri," Namor smiles at Cualli.

Shuri is very proud of herself for not throwing the knife at his face. Whatever game this is, she does not like. Not one bit. The heat in her cheeks, the frantic thud of her heart, makes her feel like she is losing.

"You did not tell me you are a Princess!" Cualli gasps. Then she adds, as if there is some logical conclusion the adults should be able to draw from her words. "K'uk'ulkan is a King!"

"Unfortunately for your Elders I already have someone in mind for my bride." Shuri can feel Namor's heated gaze on her, but she refuses to look up. "It is a shame she looks at me with nothing but disdain in her eyes."

"Well whoever she is, she sounds like a smart girl."

"Usually, but not always."

"If she ever marries you consider that one of those times!"

"Wait, isn't Wakanda your home, Shuri?" Cualli shouts excitedly. "That means you are a Princess of Wakanda! Why don't you marry K'uk'ulkan?" 

It's a sad day when you are envious of the dead fish on your plate, at least he didn't have to endure a child's attempts at match-making.  

They don't leave after dinner. 

Cualli begs that they be allowed to watch one more story on 'the moving picture box' before they leave. 

Shuri insists that she should really be getting back to Talokan, but Cualli's cute-eyed puss-in-boots reenactment was achingly sweet. What chance did she have against wide eyes and a petted lip? To say no would be as cruel as kicking a kitten. If only she didn't have to further endure Namor.

"Fine," Shuri sighs.

Cualli wants to watch Beauty and the Beast. 

Shuri puts on Barbie: A Mermaid Tale.  

If Namor wanted to play who-can-make-the-other-suffer-the-most, she would play too. 

Cualli had fallen asleep during the movie, half sprawled over both Shuri and Namor and snoring loudly. Namor had picked her up and carried her to the bed, whispering his goodnights to her as he tucked her in, promising to take her home come first light. 

Shuri took the chance to slip upstairs to the deck. It is cold, but the salty sea air feels refreshing and soothing. There was something about seeing Namor being so tender and attentive to Cualli, like a doting father with nothing but love for his child, that made tears sting at Shuri's eyes. 

She misses her family. 

She misses her Mama, her Baba and her brother. 

She misses Okoye, Nakia and M'Baku. It doesn't seem like she's ever going to see them again. Not so long as this war drags on. 

Shuri clutches the railing of the boat, staring bitterly at the water. How is it fair that she has lost so much, yet Namor still has everything he wants and more? His people adoring him and honouring him with such trust and devotion? The alliance he sought with Wakanda. The world on the brink of defeat. Yet here she was, working herself to death and having next to nothing to show for it? No home. No family. No friends. Nothing. 

Damn him. 

"You learned our language?" Namor asks as he comes to stand beside her, switching to isiXhosa.

"For the same reason you know ours," Shuri replies dryly.

Not for any love, but necessity - he had made it this way, sucking any joy she may have found in learning such a beautiful language. 

Namor rests his arms against the railing, their elbows touching. Shuri tenses but doesn't move away, to do that would be childish and a sign of weakness. 

"Thank you, for saving Cualli," Namor says earnestly.  

Shuri nods. 

"I am not ignorant of what it has cost you," Namor continues softly. "You look better rested than when I last saw you."

She certainly felt more rested than before. Since Cualli had joined her, Shuri had felt her spirits lift. She had been more aware of her own health, knowing she had someone else to look out for. Every moment hadn't been devoted to her projects, instead, time had been taken to play with Cualli and take care of her. The rest and fun had done her good. 

"Though I worry once Cualli and I depart, that you will cease taking care of yourself once more."

"For the last time, I am not your concern."

Namor moves swiftly as she tries to walk away, using his body to block her against the rail. His hands cover both her own on the cool metal. 

"Quit boxing me in!" Shuri snaps. 

"Then cease telling me what is and is not my concern," Namor looks down at her, the cool air rustling his hair. "I can assure you, that you are very much a concern of mine."

"Then tell me why," Shuri demands. 

"I do not think you are ready for that answer," Namor's voice has lowered to a dark whisper. There is a flicker of something frightening in his eyes, that reminds Shuri of his other monstrous form. "Sometimes, ignorance can be bliss."

It is Shuri's turn to stop him from leaving, grasping him by his upper arm. His eyes fall to where her hand touches him, before flickering back up to her eyes. 

"And if I still want to know?" 

"Then let me show you." His hand slips around her waist, hauling her against his body. Shuri steadies herself with her hands resting on his chest. "Close your eyes."

"Do you think that I was born yesterday? Absolutely not."

"You are not scared of me, are you, Princess?" His smile reminds her of a grinning wolf. 

She is afraid of him, and he knows that she is. She would be an idiot not to be. This man has brought the world to its knees; has vanquished Kingdoms centuries old, has bent the water elements to his will, has dominion over sea and air. A beast lies coiled inside him, powerful enough to topple mountains. Shuri knows the bruises his hands can leave. Understands the cunning he is capable of. He has proven himself every inch a deity. A force that never should have been reckoned with. Of course, she is scared. 

There is a dangerous look in his eyes, one that promises he can scare her further still if she is not careful. 

Shuri does not heed the warning. 

"Tell me."

"Close your eyes," Namor murmurs. He leans forward and hisses against her ear, "I dare you."

Shuri glowers at him before closing her eyes. 

Then Namor's lips are upon hers in a bruising kiss.

His hand forcing hers to rest against his heart.

Chapter Text

Namor is kissing her. 

He is kissing her and she cannot move. 

Shuri does not freeze. She is not T'Challa and Namor is certainly not Nakia. There is nothing but poison between Shuri and Namor and that is what has seeped into her skin and rendered her stunned and speechless. The venom of a feathered snake. 

Namor's lips leave hers fleetingly, only so they can reunite in a softer touch, his beard scratching against her. His free hand moves to her cheek, his thumb soothing her skin. She can feel him trying to coax a response from her, his tongue teasing her lips, a wicked promise upon them if only she would open her mouth.

Her lips stay tightly sealed. 

Namor moves his lips to her jaw, then trails fluttering kisses down to her collarbone. He stops at the junction of her neck, leaving an open-mouth kiss, his tongue hot and wet, leaving a damp spot slick with saliva. 

Shuri grips his shoulders to stop herself from falling into him, a needy thrill shooting down her stomach. She only opens her eyes when Namor pulls away. There is a boyish grin on his face, making him look so much younger that she almost forgets that he is an immortal God centuries older than her. 

"Was that your first kiss, Princess?" 

Shuri blinks, her cheeks feel like they are on fire. That had been her first kiss. Kissing and indulging in carnal pleasures had never been on her radar, not when her lab and studies were there waiting for her, not when the world began to fall apart. But she was not going to tell Namor that. Especially not when there was a smugness on his face that demanded to be smacked off. 

"No!" Shuri hisses, far too quickly, far too defensively. 

"Lair," the way the r rolls off his tongue had no right to sound as alluring as it did.

He looks far too proud of himself, his amusement growing when Shuri narrows her eyes at him. He wraps a hand around her waist, drawing her close.

"If that was your first kiss, then I wonder what other firsts I can give you?" Namor drawls. "The things I would do to you if you only let me."

He kisses her again, but Shuri will not be caught off guard a second time. She bites down on his lip hard and pushes him away. Namor stumbles a step backwards. He raises two fingers to his lips, finding blood. 

He doesn't look angry, he looks enticed. The pupils of his eyes have dilated, turning almost black. Shuri refuses to react when Namor licks the blood from his fingers (ignores the absurd intrusive thought of wanting to capture his fingers in her mouth and clean the blood herself). 

"Whatever game this is I am not playing," Shuri says, her voice shaking.

Spitefully - and she doesn't care how childish it may seem - she wipes her mouth on her sleeve, wanting to be rid of his taste. 

Namor grabs her chin between his fingers, forcing her to look into his eyes. The playfulness is gone, the hardness on his face returned. 

"There is no game here. Not about this," Namor states firmly. Then he smiles ruefully, "I warned you that you were not ready for the truth. But there is no taking it back now. Come with me to Talokan, Princess. This war has long been over."

"If you think you can seduce me into giving up, you are grossly mistaken," Shuri snarls. "You overestimate your appeal."

Namor glares at her, displeased at her rejection. 

"I will chase you across the Earth if I have to. Just as the moon chases the sun, I will not stop until I find you." His hand strokes her cheek. "Save us both the unnecessary grief."

"Unnecessary?" Shuri almost shrieks. 

Shuri rips herself free and shoves his chest, but this time he refuses to budge an inch. 

"If you want me to ever go back to Talokan you will have to drag me there!" 

"That can be arranged," Namor says darkly.

"You can sleep out here," Shuri growls. "Maybe the cold air will cool you off."

Shuri storms downstairs and locks the door. She rests her back against it, hand held to her rapidly beating heart. 

She should have heeded the warning in Namor's eyes.

If she thought she was scared of him before, it is nothing compared to now. 

"Will you not come to Talokan with us?" Cualli asks glumly. "K'uk'ulkan, please tell her to come. It is not safe here on the surface."

It is only not safe because of the snake beside you, Shuri thinks. 

Shuri takes in a deep breath and kneels beside Cualli. The three of them are standing on the beach, not far from Shuri's boat. Cualli clutches the straps of a weathered rucksack, filled with the toys she wishes to take with her. 

"The Surface World is my home," Shuri gently points out. "But I will never forget you."

Cualli whimpers, but puts on her best strong face and raises her hands in the Talokan salute. Shuri cannot bring herself to return the gesture, and instead leans forward and kisses the little girl on her forehead. 

"Wait in the shallow water for me, Child. I wish to speak with the Princess," Namor says, ruffling the little girl's hair.

Cualli nods and makes her way into the ocean, her Sebastian plushie dragging in the sand behind her. 

"How far do you think you can get in a few hours?" Namor asks curiously, switching to isiXhosa.

"Far enough."

"I Iike a challenge. I just wonder if you are ready for the consequences of losing?" Namor's smirk is lecherous, eyes falling to Shuri's lips. "I will see you again soon."

"Not even in your dreams will you see me again, Namor."

"Perhaps you will see me in yours?" 

Shuri scoffs and crosses her arms.

She watches Namor return to Cualli's side and picks her up. The little Talokanil waves enthusiastically, even though there are tears trickling down her blue cheeks. 

Shuri does not let herself cry, even though the sting of tears pricks at her eyes. She keeps her face impassive as she returns to the ship, starts the engine, and speeds off as fast as she can. There was no time to be sad.

The Feathered Serpent would soon begin his hunt. 

It is quiet without Cualli. 

Shuri misses her curious questions and her cheeky quips. Misses hearing her playing in the background as Shuri tinkers with her projects. She misses falling over the toys Cualli had left strewn around. Misses the simple pleasure of companionship that the little girl offered. 

The boat feels cold and empty now.

Shuri had known that this was what she had signed up for when she decided to save Cualli, that inevitably the girl would leave, that saving her would cost her allies, and that she would be left alone. She thought she could handle it. She had no idea how painful it would be, how every day a little more of her endurance would be chiselled away.

A Black Panther was a solitary creature, but a human it seemed, was not. 

They craved social interactions and needed them to survive. And Shuri misses it. Before Namor brought the rains, Shuri had never been the most social of butterflies, preferring to stay in her lab and avoid royal functions as much as she was able to. That did not mean she was without human interactions. She had her fellow scientists to bounce ideas off of and discuss research. She had her family who she would dine with every morning and night, who would come and check on her or drag her out of the lab to attend functions or spend time with them. 

Now she was alone on a boat in the middle of the ocean, running for her life. Running to give the world a fighting chance. 

Wakanda would not answer her. Bucky and The Avengers had gone radio silent. Cualli was gone, returned to her home in Talokan where her family awaited. 

Shuri had no one. 

And now that she remembers what it's like to have someone there, the loneliness hurts more than ever before. 

Shuri blasts her music to drown out the haunting silence. She throws herself into her research and projects, only going to bed when her eyes strain to stay open. She has resorted to talking to herself or asking Griot pointless questions, just to hear another voice. Anything to make her feel less alone. 

Namor has yet to find her.

A month has passed since their last encounter, but even though she has not seen him, that does not mean he has not been present in her mind. It is hard not to think of the hunter who stalks you. The God who has left his teeth marks upon your very soul with all that he has taken from you. 

It does help not that the world around her taunts her with his memory.

In every direction, the sea stretches far off into the horizon. How can she look at it and not think of the dangers that lurk below, of The Feather Serpent God who has made a Kingdom within its depth? When she stands on the deck of the boat, the wind tussling her hair and rain kissing her skin, how can she not remember who has brought these elements' wrath upon the Earth? The night sky was as dark and captivating as his hazel eyes. The slope of her neck burns when she sees it in the reflection, remembering how his mouth had fastened upon it with salacious reverence. 

It is infuriating.

He is not here and yet she cannot escape him. The monster who has made her this broken, vengeful thing, who has robbed her of all joy.

Even her dreams offer no escape. 

Her dreams should be filled with nothing but violence for him. If they were she would not feel so guilt-ridden and sickened by herself. The dreams that she has are traitorous, torturous dreams that leave her aching and breathless and twisting in her sheets. Dreams that she should not have, not for him. 

Namor had once said he had been flattered by her devotion to him, and perhaps he had been right in a way. What were enemies if not devoted to each other's destruction?  

He had made himself a vocal point in her life. Everything pointed to him. He was the one who took her mama, who flooded her Kingdom, who destroyed the world. He was the very reason she was on this Bask-forsaken boat in the middle of the Bast-forsaken sea. He was a disease which had spread, sparing no part of her life.

She hated him, she truly did. 

But then he had to go and add a new element to their battle. Tempting seedlings of affection which had been sowed long ago in Talokan. When he opened his heart and told her his past. When he showed her his Kingdom in all its beauty and she saw the love and care that he provided his people. When he delicately tied his mother's bracelet around her wrist and listened to her sorrow. When she had thought that they were the same. 

Shuri had thought those seedlings burned after he killed her mama. It seems now they had been coated in ice, the curse of Namor's kiss urging them to thaw and germinate.

Shuri refuses to let that happen. 

But one night, after a particularly fevered and restless sleep, Shuri gives into the depraved fantasies. A silly moment's weakness to alleviate her frustrations. A secret no one will know of, that she will take to her grave. With a pillow under her body, Shuri finally slips her hand below the waistband of her underwear, into her waiting heat and starts stroking the sensitive bundles of nerves. 

She imagines a heavy body of a man pinning her to the bed, his chest against her back, skin slick with sweat as he ruts against her. She imagines his fingers massaging her clit vigorously, making her mewl and gasp and grasp the bedsheets. That his heady voice is whispering in her ear of centuries of pursuit to find her, dark promises to never let her go again, that she will never know another but him, that she will never be alone.

Afterwards, Shuri will pretend he is a faceless figure, shrouded by darkness. She will pretend that the man she conjured in her fantasy was not a serpent in the guise of a man. A man who hunts her even now. A man with many names, whose name she cries out as she came undone. 

Eventually, Namor finds her.

They are like binary stars, destined to encircle each other, their collision course a devasting inevitability. 

There are many rude ways that Shuri has been awoken. 

Her brother bribing one of her fellow scientists to hack Griot and set him to wake her at four in the morning to the blare of The Hamster Dance song. Her mother waking her up with an entire entourage of servants at seven in the morning to get ready for a fancy ritual she had no interest in partaking in. The one time she had been having a delightful nap under her lab table when the new start accidentally blew up the chemistry set. 

Waking up to the God who has chased you across the ocean and haunted your dreams, was like waking up to a living nightmare. 

"Your drawings are very good, if somewhat inaccurate. I do not recall ever having horns nor such a tail."

His voice is like cold water over her body, chasing away the haze of sleep. Shuri's eyes snap open, her heart already racing. 

The Feathered Serpent has found her.

He is sitting on the edge of her bed, bathed in the soft amber glow of the fairy lights strung around the small cabin. In his hands is her sketchbook, open at one of the many drawings she has made of him. A black and white sketch of his face and upper torso, three scratches etched onto his cheek. After she had drawn it, she had bitterly scribbled on devil horns and a tail in red pen, furious at herself for having drawn the snake in the first place. And now here he was looking at her, judging it, coming to Bast only knows what conclusions. 

Shuri stays perfectly still in her bed, knowing there's no point in trying to make a break for it. She's in the middle of the ocean, there's nowhere to run or hide. He has her corned like a mouse.

Despite how terrified she is, there is a strange mix of relief there too. Done now are the weeks of warily watching the waters, checking sonar equipment hourly, being too scared to stay in one place too long, of always feeling on edge like the guillotine blade was about to drop. 

"It is interesting that I am in your thoughts often enough that my image finds its way into your drawings," Namor muses, a smile on his lips. 

"Do not flatter yourself, I was-" Having a lapse in sanity. "-Learning the enemy." 

"There are better ways to learn the intricacies of your enemy." The way he says it makes it sound like an offer. 

The heat returns to Shuri's cheeks as she tries not to think of her traitorous dreams and how accurate or inaccurate they may be. Mostly accurate, she thinks, Namor's outfits didn't exactly leave much to the imagination. 

"I think I'll pass," Shuri dryly retorts. Shuri snatches the sketchbook from his grip, tossing it aside. She doesn't want to know how much of it he has seen. He did not deserve to look at any of her drawings. "How did you find me?"

"Who says I ever lost you?"

An unnerving thought. Shuri was positive he had no way of tracking her boat. Had gone through the pains of triple checking both the interior and exterior for any possible trackers. He was bluffing, he had to have found her through some other means. Not that he was going to tell her how. 

"Cualli's parents wish me to relay their gratitude. They had feared the worst when their daughter did not return home," Namor says. "Cualli has spoken of nothing but how you doted on her. You will make a good mother in the future, though I fear you shall spoil them rotten."

Children are not something Shuri has ever thought about for herself. Her time and energy were always on her research and inventions, wanting to help her country in the best way that she knew how. Perhaps if she had grown up in a different world she might have thought about it. But her world was one that had been attacked again and again by malevolent forces, its inhabitants fighting for their lives with the frequency of the sun's cycle and this time.... it looks less and less likely they will win. The world she is in now is no place for children. 

And this creature is to blame. 

"I would not bring a child into this world. Not while a monster like you still lives."

"A monster like me? And yet you draw my likeness in your books," Namor leans over her, a serpent moving in for the kill. "Gasp my name in your sleep as you clutch the bedsheets? I do not think you are as unaffected by me as you pretend to be."

Shuri swallows hard, her mind reeling as she tries to remember exactly what she had dreamed about. Nothing innocent if it followed the same pattern of these past weeks.

And now here he is, the demon that stalks her, close enough to touch if she wants to - the desire in his eyes tells her he would let her. He is temptation incarnate. A siren's song in immortal form. His sins are many, his slights against her infinite, it should not be so hard to keep her gaze focused on his eyes. It should not take strength to stop them straying to his lips... his chest... his hips...

"Everyone has nightmares sometimes." 

"What did I say about lying?" Namor chids, leaning in closer. "I want the truth from you. What was your dream about?"

"Running you through with a spear."

"Your heartbeat tells a different story," Namor says. His free hand skims along her collarbone, towards the top button of her night blouse. With deft fingers, he unbuttons it, then the second, then the third. "What were you dreaming about, Princess?

"I clawed your face off."

Shuri loathes the catch in her breath as he undid a fourth and then fifth button. Her shirt parts way, just enough to tease the top of her breast with cool air.

"I'm sure your claws were put to good use," Namor muses.

Another button undone, and still, Shuri makes no move to stop his wandering fingers. 

"I'm sure I appreciated them very much in the dream," Namor grins.
 
"You flatter yourself too much, Namor."

"And you deny yourself too much, Princess. I wonder if you will deny this too?"

With the last button undone, he raises two fingers to his mouth, moistening them before moving them to the hollow of her neck. He drags the wet digits down her collarbone, the valley of her breasts, over her stomach and stops when he reaches the waistband of her shorts. Shuri desperately tries not to imagine Namor's tongue following the same path and not stopping.

"You have denied yourself so much, why deny yourself this?" He lowers his head, lips a breath away from her own. Quietly, he says, "No one has to know. It will not change anything if you do not want it to."

She should be digging her nails into his eyes, not indulging in his touch. Her dreams were one thing, her self-pleasure spurred by the forbidden another, but this... this was a betrayal to herself and everything that she stood for. This was insanity.

"You could not make me yield in battle," Namor's smile is sly, "perhaps you are scared you cannot make me yield in other ways?"

That was a challenge. 

And Shuri is loathed to let Namor get away with such things.

With a viciousness only he seemed capable of inspiring inside her, Shuri's hand darts behind Namor's head, grasping his hair and yanking him forward. Their lips clash together, as violent and unyielding as their battles.

She feels Namor move so he lies on top of her, his heavy weight supported by his arms resting on either side of her head. His tongue is as wicked as she imagined, hot and demanding and unrelenting in its onslaught. 

This is just another battle, another means to try and conquer the other. That is what Shuri tells herself as their bodies writhe against one another, as one of her hands entangles itself around his seashell necklace and pulls him closer, as she feels her arousal grow.

Namor shifts so his weight is held up by one arm, the other moving to grasp hold of Shuri's thigh, and pulls it over his hip. She can feel his erection through his thin shorts, and cannot stop the whimper at the feel of it rubbing against her clothed core. He pushes against her harder, making her gasp his name.

There are far too many clothes separating them. Shuri moves her hands down the muscles of Namor's chest, towards the golden belt around his waist. Much to her charging, Namor breaks the kiss to grab hold of both her wrists. He pins them above her head with one hand, looking down at her with a playful smile before leaning down to kiss her again.

"You may not be willing to tell me what you dream about," Namor whispers against her lips, "but let me tell you what I dream of."

Namor moves his free hand down her body in a teasing caress. He slips his hands into the waistband of her shorts and inside her clit, his finger moving in leisurely, gentle circles. 

Shuri bites back a moan, her back arching to push herself more thoroughly against Namor. She strains against his grip on her wrists, her fingers itching to caress his flesh, to sink her nails into his back and watch as he winces in pain - a punishment for daring to make her feel this way, cursing her with this desire which has taunted her for weeks. 

"A dream that has haunted me since the day you asked to see my Kingdom," Namor continues, something dark and possessive creeping into his voice. 

Namor's fingers move faster and harsher, agonising in their zealousness. His lips find Shuri's neck and suck at the tender spot where her pulse flutters madly. 

Shuri feels like her entire body is tightly coiled, a tension building inside her she so desperately needs relief from. She juts her hips back and forth, rutting against Namor's skillfully teasing fingers. She can feel Namor's smile against her neck and is glad she can't see his insufferable smirk at the wanton mess he has reduced her to. 

"When I finally claim you as my own, it will be as I sit on my throne in Talokan," Namor whispers hotly. "I will have you sitting on my lap, my seed dripping down your thighs as you cry out my name."

The image comes before she can stop it. The periwinkle glow of his underwater throne room. His throne made from the jaw and teeth of a megalodon shark. Namor sitting upon it proudly, wearing his golden headdress of a serpent's head with a mane of feathers. And Shuri, sitting naked atop his lap, his fingers on her hips as he pulls her down onto his cock again and again. Her name a fevered prayer on his lips as he comes undone, spilling his desire inside her. 

Namor's lips smother her, swallowing the cry she makes as a wave of pleasure washes over her. Shuri arches herself into his body as much as she is able, wanting to feel every inch of him against her. He rests his head against her as she savours the ripples of pleasure, his lips hovering above her own. 

Namor removes his fingers from inside her and brings them between their faces, showing her the evidence of her desire. Shuri had thought that insatiable need had been filled, but when Namor licks his fingers clean and watches her with a sinful look as he does so, she can feel it return with a vengeance. 

Bast damn you, Shuri thinks.

It is not fair he has so easily reduced her to this. 

She wants to do the same to him, to have him gasping her name, squirming from the pleasure that she can give or deny. To show this so-called God that she can reduce him to the same pitiful, mewling state that he has her. That he can't win every battle. That she will not let him. 

Namor cradles her face between his palms and kisses her with a reverent softness. 

Hands now free, Shuri pushes them against Namor's chest with all her strength. The only reason she is able to do so is that he allows it - the knowledge is as aggravating as it was invigorating. 

Namor is on his back as Shuri kisses him. There is nothing soft in her kiss, only fury and frustration at the snake beneath her. She runs her nails over his chest. Slowly grinds herself against his hard member, still straining against his shorts. The sight of Namor biting his lip, his chest heaving, sends a victorious thrill through Shuri. She wants to hear him groaning, to make him cry out her name.

But again, when her fingers dance towards the golden belt around his waist, he stops her. He flips their bodies over, so once again Shuri is pinned beneath his body. 

"Temptress," Namor mutters. 

"Why?" Shuri huffs. Before she can stop herself she sneers, "Which daughter of Wakanda are you saving yourself for?" 

"There is only one daughter of Wakanda that I want," Namor kisses her softly. "And I have her right where I want her."

It feels like there is a beast inside her whose claws had been drawn at the thought of another taking him. His words have eased it, satisfying it in ways Shuri does not want to look at. 

She doesn't want any Wakandan to suffer him, doesn't want him to get more political influence, or for her to be forced to make a Wakandan elder's daughter a widow. That's all it is, this misplaced jealousy. It was politics. It has nothing to do with wanting him for herself. 

He is her enemy. 

This is just another battle.
 
"I do not wish to leave you wanting, but you've denied me enough times that I do not feel too distraught denying you now," Namor smirks. His eyes glitter with amusement as he adds, "I've already told you how I will first have you. It will not be here."

"Nor will it be in Talokan," Shuri retorts. "I will never go back there." 

Namor doesn't reply, only leans down and kisses her again. 
 

Chapter Text

It is still late when Shuri stirs from slumber, awakened by a gentle kiss upon the back of her neck. 

Her head rests on Namor's outstretched arm, his other arm draped over her stomach, his chest a sturdy warmth against her back. Shuri is too tired to protest the inappropriateness of their closeness, enemies or not; such boundaries had been crossed only hours ago. Shuri stays perfectly still, keeping her breathing as even as she can. She doesn't want him to know that she is awake yet. He might decide to drag her to Talokan there and then. 

If she waits for him to fall asleep, maybe she could thwack him on the head with something hard, chuck him overboard and speed off as fast as she could. The only issue was she didn't know how he had tracked her down in the first place, so doing so would risk his wrath. Maybe she could strangle him while he-

"It is late, Princess," Namor says, his voice heavy with sleep. "Cease thinking of ways to kill me and get some rest. We will leave in the morning, so stop worrying about it for now."

Shuri scowls, purposely jabbing her elbow into his stomach. She mumbles an apology, pretending it was an accident but both of them know better. She swears she hears him mutter 'spiteful vixen' under his breath.

Shuri huffs and glares at the floor. The room is dim, only the soft glow of her fairy lights allowing her to see anything. What she spots is her sketchbook, lying on the floor, open at the page of the drawing she had made as a child. The Feathered Serpent below the waves. A little girl drowning as her ship sinks above her. 

Shuri closes her eyes, those strange flickers of memories she had seen taunting her. 

The woman - her Aunt Subira - standing next to Shuri's younger self on a ship speeding through the ocean. A pod of whales frolicking among the waves. Dark skies booming with thunderous clouds. An Earth-quaking roar. Little Shuri sinking, drowning. A dark creature coming towards her.

She remembers what Okoye had said. How the research ship she and her Aunt her been on had mysteriously sunk, the wreckage never found, nor any survivors. Only little Shuri, who had somehow, impossibly, found her way back to Wakanda, swearing a feathered dragon had saved her. 

"When I was a little girl," Shuri says quietly. "I used to be afraid of the ocean."

"You are no fool," Namor murmurs, kissing behind her ear. "The sea is not forgiving to those who do not respect it."

Namor speaks of waves large enough to consume entire cities, of storms that can sink the strongest ships, the peril of its vastness and its promise of isolation.

"That's not why I was scared."

Namor props himself up on his elbow to stare down at her. 

"What scared you, Princess?"

Shuri opens her eyes. There is a coy smile twitching at the corner of his lips. His eyes have darkened, reminding Shuri of a black hole, dark as they were endless, eager to devour.

You know, she thinks, you know exactly what.

Shuri hadn't known back then why she had been scared of.

In her youth, Shuri's fear had not been limited to the ocean. Any body of water had made her tremble. She wouldn't even go in a swimming pool or step foot in a canoe. No one ever teased her for it, and it had been her brother who had tentatively helped her overcome the fear. Having been in a shipwreck - even one she could not fully remember - she supposes would scare anyone out of the water. 

But Shuri didn't think that was all that had scared her. 

It had been The Feathered Serpent lurking in the water. 

And Little Shuri had been right to be scared. 

If only she had known then what terrors this creature could bring. 

"Whatever scared you when you were younger, let it rest," Namor whispers, kissing her forehead. " You have nothing to fear of the ocean. You have nothing to fear of me."

When morning comes, Shuri is awoken by the sweetest of smells, something salty and fresh that makes her stomach rumble. Opening her eyes, she finds a freshly cooked fish sitting on her bedside table, along with an unusual white flower she had never seen before. 

Namor is sitting on the bed across from her, one leg bent and the other stretched out. His attention is focused on the sketchbook in his lap, a pencil held at the tips of his fingers as he draws on one of the blank pages. He has shed his jewellery and sandals, and his hair is slightly mused from sleep. If it hadn't been for his pointed ears, he would have looked almost normal. Nothing like the powerful God the world has come to fear. 

"Good morning, Princess," Namor says without looking up. 

"You made breakfast," Shuri points out, having nothing better to say. 

"I thought you might be hungry."

Shuri eats his meal as she is hungry and Bast damn it, it smells good. It reminds her of the food in the palace, freshly caught meat and fish, lovely and warm, vibrant in its flavours. It is the most delicious meal Shuri has eaten since fleeing the palace. It is a battle to keep her face carefully neutral to not reveal just how much she is enjoying it. She can see Namor slipping her glances over the sketchbook, taking in her reaction - call her petty, but she would give none. 

There is something strangely domestic about eating breakfast while Namor draws. The rain is barely a trickle outside, and for the first time in a long time, she sees beams of sunlight breaching the clouds. It almost feels nice. A hint of normalcy she has come to crave in the turbulence that her life has become. 

Once she finishes, Shuri slips out of the bed. Her hands quickly grab her shirt and fists it closed, having forgotten that someone had unbuttoned it. She ignores the heat in her cheeks at the thought of clever fingers and scurries over to the box where she has stuffed her fresh clothes. 

She pulls out combat trousers, a white tank top, a jumper, socks and fresh underwear. She hesitates only a moment before snatching a blanket from a chair and tossing it over Namor, startling him. 

Before he can pull it off, Shuri snaps, "Unless you want to be sushi, that stays over your head while I change!" 

Shuri gets changes quickly, keeping a wary eye on the quilt covering the God on her bed. At the very least, Namor has manners and wisely keeps his gaze averted. Though she could feel his annoyance at the indignity of having a blanket over his head. 

It's when Shuri is pulling on her trousers that she finds something in her pocket. 

Her kimoyo beads.

Even with these, there was no one she could call for help. Not against Namor. Even The Avengers - what little there was left - would be of no use. After she had been branded a traitor, it was doubtful they would respond to her distress beacon, and even if they did, what good would it do? She would be asking them to go on a suicide mission. The very least she could do was forward Bucky all of her progress into her research on the weather modifier. He could give the information to the remaining scientists The Resistance had working for them. Hopefully, they would have the time and resources to put it to good use. This might be the last thing she could do to help, now that Namor has her. 

Shuri fastens the beads around her wrist and sends Bucky the information. Then she mutes her kimoyo beads. 

I'm counting on you, Bucky.

"You can look now," Shuri says. 

Namor rips the blanket from his face, giving her an unimpressed scowl. He combs his fingers through his ruffled hair. 

"We will leave for Talokan now," Namor says as he closes the sketchbook. "Is there anything that you wish to bring?"

"I told you, that I do not want to go," Shuri replies, crossing her arms. She will not make this easy for him, dignity be damned. 

"Princess," Namor growls. 

"You will have to drag me. Last night will not change that. No amount of lust ever will."

Namor's eyes darken, anger clouding his face. He is on his feet in an instant. "You think this is about lust? I thought I was clear at the start when I told you that you would take your place by my side, even if I had to wait a thousand years for it to be."

"You think I would be tempted by your false promises? That I desire a throne?" Shuri takes a step closer, chin jutted out defiantly. "That I desire you? It didn't matter who it was last night, anyone would have sufficed."

Namor's eyes briefly flicker to her hand and for a terrible moment, Shuri wonders if he knew what relief her fingers gave her. If he knew whose name she cried when pleasuring herself. 

"I see now that you are willfully ignorant to matters of the heart. You purposely refuse to accept what I am telling you," Namor's eyes meet hers once more. 

"You have no heart." 

Namor clicks his tongue in annoyance. "I have never lied to you. No matter how cruel the truth is. No matter how much you did not want to hear it. You had your chance to escape hearing what I had to say but you demanded that I tell you why it is you live, even when you cry out for my blood. You can run away from me but I will not let you run away from the truth and convince yourself I do this only for carnal pleasure." 

"Then why-"

Her words die when Namor's hands cradle her cheeks, pulling her face close to his own. There is nothing but a burning sincerity in his eyes as he looks at her. 

"Princess Shuri of Wakanda, I want you as my Queen." He kisses her with aching softness. "My bride." Another kiss, just as soft just as fleeting. "My equal in all things. There are no tricks, no deception or lies. I swear to Chaac, the God who gifted me my powers, who entrusted me to protect my people, that all I say to you now is true."

Shuri gasps against his mouth as he kisses her again. His forehead rests against her own, his hands keeping her close. There is barely any space between them, her chest to his chest, the tips of their toes touching. There is an ache in Shuri's chest, almost suffocating in its intensity. Tears trickle down her cheeks and onto Namor's fingers. 

She doesn't know how to feel, but she can feel the fury - her faithful companion these past few years, particularly when dealing with Namor - bubbling to the surface like a geyser ready to blow. The audacity of this man. To make such declarations. To speak of such things as if they were possible between them. As if they weren't enemies. 

She wants to curse at him; to call him a liar, to tell him that she isn't stupid and will not fall for such lies. 

But he means it. She could hear it his voice, see it in the sincerity in his eyes, in the oath he swore to his God. Namor truly wanted her as his partner, his Queen, his wife. And suddenly so much makes sense, why it was she had lived when he had every reason to kill her. 

"I want you to realize that you do not have anything to fear, not from me. I want to welcome you into my kingdom, to give you a home, a family. All the things that you seek and yearn for." Namor clasps their fingers together, placing them over his heart. "You do not have to suffer. You do not ever have to be alone."

He might as well have driven his spear through her stomach again. Each word is a searing ache that tears at her heart, at her very being. 

She could almost imagine it.

Namor sitting down, pretending not to notice the child peeking out from behind one of the shark teeth on his throne. Their tiny hand reaching out to pluck one of the feathers on his golden headdress.

Shuri sneaking up behind them, a burst of giggles as she whisks the toddler into her arms.

Namor wrapping his arms around the both of them, resting his forehead against hers.

A reality that could have been. 

Until he destroyed it.

"The only reason I have none of those things is you!" Shuri hisses. 

With all the strength she can muster, she shoves at Namor's chest, ripping herself free from his grasp. 

"How can you say that to me? When you are the killer of my mother! You who knows such loss and yet you inflicted it upon me! I have left my home because of you. I have lost countless friends because of you. I have watched my world slowly drown because of you! And then you say that-"

Shuri chokes on a cry, unable to say the words. 

She runs out of the cabin and slams the door shut. 

Namor does not follow. 

The snake does not need to. 

She has nowhere to go. 

Namor was in love with her. 

Shuri wants to deny that he is capable of such an emotion, but she knows that to be false. She has seen how great his capacity for love is every time he interacted with his people. He cherished them as his own children, spoke to them with the softness of a father, and treated them with the utmost care as if they were the most tender of treasures. He had crafted them a sun that shone underwater, so they would not be trapped in darkness. He patrolled the waters himself to keep them safe. His devotion and care had been something Shuri admired greatly, had found herself even smitten by. 

But then he had shown the darker side of that love. 

He had declared war on Wakanda for the death of two handmaidens, something other nations would have brushed under the rug as minor losses - if considered losses at all. He had personally searched for one missing child, leaving nothing but destruction in his wake. He had plotted the demise of the world for centuries and followed through, all in the name of protecting his people's sovereignty and future. There was very little, if anything, that he was not willing to do if it keep his loved ones safe. Worlds could burn and it would not matter. 

Namor's love was a terrifying beast to behold. 

And somehow he had given it to her. 

Shuri clutched the guardrail tightly, staring down into the glistening waters. Somewhere beyond the horizon, deep below the waves, Talokan waits for the return of their King. A Kingdom he wished to drag her back to, whether that be willing or unwilling. 

What did he think was going to happen? 

That she would give into him? That she would be Queen to a nation that was protected through the slaughter of billions of innocent people? That she would be his wife when it was he who had stolen her mother from her? Did he think she would grow tired of her hatred? That her longing for happiness and family would be enough to force her to settle for what he offered? 

Is that your plan, Namor?  Shuri wonders. Wear me down, take away everything else, until all I have is you? 

The cabin door opens and Shuri hears the gentle tap of footsteps. Namor stands beside her, wearing his jewellery and golden arm bracers. He rests his arms against the guardrail, eyes on the ocean before him. 

"We've met before, haven't we?" Shuri asks. "Before you revealed yourself to my mother and me. Before you brought the rains and winds and flooded the world."

"How much do you remember?" Namor asks, looking at her with a curious tilt of his head. There is a calculative look in his eyes, something almost appraising. 

So he had been there that day. It wasn't a coincidence that she had drawn a creature that resembled his other for, nor that little Shuri had declared that a giant feathery lizard had saved her. There was a connection between them, a hidden past she had forgotten. One that he has remained silent about. 

"Not much," Shuri admits. "It comes back in flashes. Too short and too quick to make much sense of. I remember being on a boat in The Atlantic Ocean when I was a little girl. A storm. Me being in the water... then you... in your serpent form, coming closer. Someone leaving me on a beach in Wakanda."

Namor sighs, looking towards the skies. "Do you not remember what I told you, Princess? That sometimes ignorance is bliss. I have already given you one answer that your heart will not accept. Can you handle another?"

"I want to know," Shuri insists. 

"Even if it means hating yourself as much as you hate me?" Namor asks, looking at her intently.

Shuri frowns, puzzled by what that could mean. Dread seeps into her heart, begging her to turn back before it was too late. That Namor had always been honest with her, and if he said this was a truth she did not want to hear, perhaps it was better to leave it be. But she couldn't. She needed to know. 

"If I ask you, will you tell me?" 

"No," Namor replies. "But I will take you where you may remember. If you wish to know, then come with me."

Namor holds out his hand. 

"I do not want to know that much," Shuri quips dryly. 

Namor chuckles. "Not to Talokan. Not yet. Let me show you what you have forgotten."

Shuri hesitates only a second, before taking his hand. 

Namor's thumb strokes the back of her hand. 

"It will be quicker if we travel while I am in my other form," Namor says.

"Your other form?" Shuri blinks. "You can fly in that form too?"

Namor grins. 

Shuri yanks her hand back. "Absolutely not."

"You are not afraid of heights, Princess," Namor points out. "I remember our battles took to the skies more than once."

"Flying in a vibranium vessel that I made, that comes with seatbelts, is completely different to riding-" Why did I use that word? Shuri winces. Her cheeks flood with warmth as she clears her throat. "Flying on a snake."

"I will catch you if you fall," Namor shrugs like it's no big deal. 

"So you think I will fall?"

"I'm sure you have excellent grip."

Shuri glowers at his suggestive tone. 

Namor grins before launching himself over the guardrail, and diving into the water.

Shuri leans over the edge, looking for him. He takes so long that she begins to wonder if he is coming back at all. Then there is an eruption of water and Namor appears in all his glory in his feathered serpent form, half out of the water, peering down at her. His scales gleam golden in the sunlight, his feathers more vibrant than before. Water slides from his body in trickling rivers. Shuri can't help but notice that he looks a lot smaller than he did before, still enormous, but not as tall and a fair bit slimmer. Curiously, she wonders if he can adjust his size and imagines a tiny feathered serpent playfully cuddling around her arm. 

Shuri glares up at him, feeling like an irritable drenched feline.

"Really?" Shuri shouts, running a hand through her soaked hair. "You did that on purpose!"

The serpent sticks his long tongue out at her, making a strange trilling noise that sounds suspiciously like laughter. 

Namor lowers his head, extending his neck so she can easily climb on. There is nothing to grab onto, save for his long feathers, and so Shuri does so, hoping she doesn't accidentally rip any out - she did not think he would appreciate that. 

She bites back her 'giddy up' comment as Namor takes to the sky, quite confident that he wouldn't appreciate that either. 

"I will kill you when this is over, Namor!" Shuri screams, burying her face into his mane of feathers. "The loop de loop was not necessary!"

Again, Namor makes that mocking trilling noise. 

Shuri was beginning to realise that Namor had a sick sense of humour when he wanted to. It reminds her of when she had asked him to show her Talokan, how he had delved into gruesome details of what would happen to her body if she went, only to casually declare after he had sufficiently scared her, 'or you could take a suit!' 

"Are we nearly there yet?" Shuri shouts, hating the whine in her voice as she stares down and sees only clouds. Bask, why did he have to go so high up? Couldn't they just skim above the water-

Shuri screams as Namor takes a nose-dive, spiralling through the clouds and towards the water. Shuri clutches on for dear life, not caring if she plucks any of his feathers out. If she survived this, she would yank every single one out on purpose! See how fancy his serpent form looked then without his damn peacock feathers!

"Princess, thirty seconds till impact with water!" Griot helpfully informs her. 

"Acitve my diving suit, Griot!" Shuri demands. 

The nanobots burst from the necklace around her throat - a simple black panther paw pendant with a silver chain - and engulf her body. Her diving suit is a simple skintight black wetsuit with silver claw marks decorating the torso and legs. A clear mask covers her entire face, allowing her to breathe and see clearly. Upon her feet are now flippers for easier swimming and around her waist a belt made of silver fangs. 

Namor dives into the ocean, the impact almost making Shuri lose her grip. Namor glides through the waters with the elegant ease of an eel, his body swaying in curves behind him. He takes her further and further down until a stationary dark shape becomes clear. It is a shipwreck, settled on the edge of a black ravine. When they are not far from it, Namor cartwheels around, knocking Shuri from his neck. Shuri scowls at him but takes the hint that now is the time to get off. 

She points to the shipwreck. "Is this the place?"

He nods his head. 

"I take it you're not coming?" 

This time he shakes his head, feathers swaying in the waters.

Shuri swims towards the ruins. There is barely any sunlight that can reach this far below, just enough that everything is a mass of dark silhouettes. Shuri activates her built-in torchlight, situated just below her right shoulder. 

Shuri recognises the design of the ship as Wakandan, an older model no longer made. It was made of steel, rather than vibranium - a safety precaution in case the ship was lost at sea or unrecoverable, as they did not want any vibranium to be found by scavengers or treasure hunters. Barely legible on the hull, Shuri found the ship's name; Odysseus. 

I remember this ship, Shuri thinks. 

The memory is fleeting, but it is there all the same.

(Little Shuri excitedly waved goodbye to her parents as she ran onto the ship, pulling along with her a miniature suitcase filled with fresh notebooks, textbooks on marine biology, and various gadgets she insisted on bringing. The only reason any clothes had made it in there was the insistence of her mother.

Standing on the dock were her mama and baba, even T'Challa had come to see her off. 

"Best behaviour, Shuri!" Her Mama warned. 

"Try not to get eaten by any sharks, Shuri!" T'Challa called with a teasing grin. 

Mama gave him a chiding look.

"Shuri is an angel, Sister!" Auntie Subira shouts from on deck, wrapping an arm around Shuri as she joined her. "Never would she cause her beloved Auntie any mischief!")

This was the research ship that went missing at sea, the one that Wakanda could not find. The last place her Aunt Subira and thirty-three Wakandans were seen alive. The ship she had been on before she disappeared for a week. 

Shuri took in the state of the vessel. Much of it was orange with rust and eroded away, leaving gaping holes that fish freely swam in and out of. It was encrusted with barnacles, shellfish, and a variety of marine plant life. 

Finding a decently sized hole, Shuri decides to look inside. She swims down eroded metal corridors, pushing past swathes of seaweed and colourful fish. Most rooms reveal very little to her nor stir any memories; sleeping quarters, bathrooms, storage rooms with their contents scattered across the floors, a galley filled with crabs chilling in empty pots and pans. It wasn't until she finds the laboratory, that she starts to feel a hazy sense of familiarity. 

The lab was in ruins like everything else; machinery had been knocked to the floor and rusted over, the display cases were shattered or cracked, test tubes and instruments littered the floor. What piquedsShuri's interest was all the conch shells that had clearly been on display at some point; big and small, colourful and bland, some having fallen to the floor and broke while others remained in their cases attached to the walls. 

Shuri shone her light over the walls, seeing laminated diagrams of whales, sonar scans, spectrograms and maps of the Atlantic Ocean on display. 

A feeling of unease settles inside her, making her feel queasy.

Shuri picks up one of the conch shells and then looks at one of the spectrograms.

("Look there, Shuri! Do you know what those are?" Auntie Saburi said, pointing toward a group of large animals, jumping from the water. 

"Humpback whales," Shuri gasps excitedly. "There's a whole pod of them!" 

"Remind me to let you listen to the recordings of their songs. They're beautiful and calming to listen to," Aunt Subari said. "Do you know why they sing, Shuri?"

Shuri hums thoughtfully. "To attract a mate. Though whales are very sociable creatures, so it could also be to communicate various things to other whales. Like health, potential dangers, location, food. I'm sure I read somewhere that mama whales were thought to make cooing noises at their babies when playing."

"I see you did your homework," Auntie Subari smiled, ruffling Shuri's hair. "I bet there will be nothing I can teach you as you've already taught it to yourself! But, maybe I can. These whales are a little different from whales elsewhere."

"How so?"

"These whales' songs are much more elaborate and unique. They have a very extensive vocabulary of sounds compared to other whales. They also don't migrate, staying strictly in this part of The Atlantic Ocean." Auntie Subari handed Shuri a sonogram. "We've also picked up on another noise that primarily originates from this area, though it has been found in other locations. We've identified it as the sound you could make by blowing in a conch shell, but amplified to crazy levels that it could be heard thousands of miles away! We've been unable to replicate it though." 

Shuri frowned, looking at the whales thoughtfully. "You think they are connected?" 

"Possibly," Auntie Subari shrugs. "Both are mysteries I would like answers too. My gut is telling me it's something to do with this region of the ocean.")

Shuri holds the conch shell close to her chest, letting out a shuddering breath as the pieces start to fall into place. 

Her Aunt had been researching whales, specifically the ones in this area of The Atlantic Ocean as they had been demonstrating unusual behaviour. While researching them, she had stumbled upon a strange, unidentified noise. 

The Talokanil utilised whales as a means of transport, most likely played a role in raising them too. It wasn't something Shuri was particularly knowledgeable about, but that could be why her Aunt had picked up on oddities in these whales. The whales she had studied had been domesticated by the Talokanil, giving them deviations in normal whale behaviours. 

As for the conch shell sound her Aunt had discovered, she had been bang on the mark. That had to be the conch shells that Namor's people used to contact him. Just as Cualli had done. Something that only Talokanil could do, making it something her Aunt could not replicate despite her efforts. 

"She was getting close to discovering you," Shuri muses aloud. "But did you know that?"

Shuri leaves the room, swimming more urgently, investigating every room that she could get into. A terrible thought had taken root, one she needed to confirm. She had thought it had been a storm to take down the ship, could remember the darkening skies, the choppy waves battering against the ship, the rain lashing down. She had thought that when she was younger, during the chaos, she had gone overboard, and that was when Namor had found her. But now that she knew what her Aunt had been researching, how close she was getting to discovering Talokan... Shuri wasn't sure it was so simple. 

It is when Shuri leaves the ship that she finds what she's looking for. The centre of the vessel had been split in half like something had slashed straight through it with one powerful blow. 

The memory hits her like a punch to the gut. 

(The ship was rocking side to side on choppy waves, making everyone onboard stumble and crash against the deck. Rain lashed down, painful as it struck skin. The wind was deafening as it howled. 

"Where did this storm come from?" Shuri cries.

Auntie Subira grabbed Shuri around the waist, racing across the deck before practically tossing her inside the ship. 

"Stay inside, Shuri! I need to go make sure everyone else is alright!" 

"But Auntie-"

"No buts, Shuri!"

Just as Subira closed the door, a geyser of water erupted from the ocean. The water fell away, revealing a monster. A giant snake-like beast with brightly coloured feathers bursting from its head. It opened its mouth, revealing rows of sharpened teeth and two elongated fangs that dripped from the roof of its mouth. The roar it unleashed shook the ship more fiercely than any wave ever could. 

The door slammed shut. 

Outside, Shuri could hear screaming.) 

Shuri gasps, her hand rising to her pounding heart. 

Namor had sunk the ship.

He had known the threat it posed and dealt with it with the same unforgiving brutality he always did. 

Why then, did you let me live?

Chapter Text

Shuri doesn't know how long she stays there, floating before the sunken ship, but eventually, Namor comes for her. She can sense him a distance behind her, quietly observing her. Her hands remain clenched at her sides, her lips pressed firmly together. 

What was she supposed to say to him? This man who hours ago had confessed his intentions for her, his desire to have her by his side as his Queen and bride. A man who had brought waves of suffering upon her people and the world. A man who had killed her mother and now her Aunt too.

Shuri didn't believe in curses, but if they were real, then Namor was a curse made flesh upon her family. 

"I thought you had saved me that day," Shuri admits quietly, staring at the wreckage. "But you were the one who put me in danger in the first place." 

Thirty-three lives were lost that day. Thirty-three families were forced to grieve the loss of their loved ones. The distress her family must have felt to lose not only Subari but also Shuri for a time too, believing the young girl to be dead. The fear she herself must have gone through, the trauma of this day so great it had been suppressed from her memories, leaving her only with a crippling fear of the water. 

"Do you know who was on that ship?" Shuri asks, her words biting. "My mother's sister. My Aunt Subari. Was it not enough that you killed one sister, you had to kill both?"

"The scientists on that ship were getting too close to my Kingdom. I did what any ruler would do and eliminated the threat before it could hurt us," Namor says with no remorse in his voice.

It grates on Shuri, how matter of fact he could be about human lives. About lives that had once been her family. 

"If my Aunt and the Wakandan scientists had discovered you, they would have kept your secret. Wakanda was a secret then too. They could not reveal you without revealing ourselves!" Shuri snaps. "You were so quick to sink that ship without asking questions. Everything could have been different. Everything!" 

Had The Odysseus not been sunk by the sirens its namesake survived, the world could have been a different place. If somehow a conversation had been broached, if both sides had learned of one another, they would have become allies from that day forward. And that was the truest tragedy of it all. 

Wakanda would have greeted Talokan without open arms, Shuri was sure of it. No matter what hesitation there would be with trusting outsiders, their shared unique circumstances and the benefits of such an alliance would have helped them easily overcome it. Two vibranium powerful nations hidden from the world, united in case the day ever came that they were discovered and had to protect themselves. Both with unique strengths that would complement the other.

Talokan with their reign over the seas, able to breathe underwater and their enhanced strength and durability. Wakanda with their ability to breathe upon the surface, their well-established spy networks able to deeply penetrate any government or agency with ease, and their knowledge of the surface world. Both nations in possession of their own advanced technological advancements and powerful beings blessed by their respective deities.

The Elders would have salivated over such an alliance.

The security it would have provided, the resources and knowledge that they could have shared, and the friendships that could have blossomed.

Shuri tries not to think how vastly different her relationship with Namor might have been had they met under such circumstances. Had the spilt blood of those precious to them not tainted their skin. It is a lost future she cannot help but mourn. A future where her shoulders were not crushed with the weight of the world. Where her grief did not consume her. 

"We had no notion of Wakanda's existence when we sunk that ship," Namor replies. "And even if we had, how could we be sure that you could be trusted? An entirely new nation that we have heard nay a whisper of, whose technological and military capabilities we are ignorant of? We would not have survived as long as we have, had we trusted so easily. Whatever fanciful what-if's you imagine sparing that ship might have led to, forget them. You have no way of knowing if that world would have been any better than the one you are in."

"Anything would be better than this!" Shuri shrieks, whirling around to face him. "Everyone did not need to die!"

Her chest is heaving, her hands fisted so tightly that they are shaking. She can feel those wretched tears stinging her eyes and trickling down her cheeks.

Namor is nothing but a series of fanciful what-ifs and could-have-beens to her. Even now, after everything he had done, she grieves over every alternative future that plays in her head on a nearly nightly basis. Every one ends the same.

She would have been drawn to him, as she has been in this world. The difference was she could have allowed herself to be drawn in, could have accepted his pursuit had he made it. She wouldn't have been tortured with crippling guilt for seductive dreams filled with his tender touches and lingering kisses or of sweet and innocent moments shared in one another's company. She would not feel sickened with herself for yearning that things were different between them.

In another timeline, they could have been together. They could have been happy. 

But this was not that timeline.

Whatever timeline she is in, it is the worse there can be. 

"You say you could not have trusted us," Shuri says, struggling to control her breathing. "And yet over a decade later, it was you who came to us seeking an alliance. By then, we were already known to the world. Revealing yourself to us was a risk. Why did you do it?"

How could he have been sure that Wakanda could be a trusted ally where the rest of the world was not? Was it their vibranium? Their shared past of being hidden nations?

Namor smiles, tilting his head. It is then that Shuri notices that he is holding something in his hand. 

"You want to know why I took a chance on Wakanda?" Namor asks, "It was because of you."

Shuri frowns, puzzled. 

Namor swims closer to her, offering her what is in his hand. It is a necklace, a black choker lined with tiger cowrie seashells, and so striking in its familiarity that Shuri can only gape at it. This was her necklace, one she had left behind at the palace. The last time she had worn it had been when she was seeing T'Challa off as he readied himself for Warrior Falls. 

"Do you remember who gave you this?" Namor asks curiously. "His name was Balam of Talokan, a child who was there the day your ship was destroyed."

Shuri strokes the necklace, her head aching as the memories come back in fading waves. 

(After her Aunt had thrown her inside the ship, a scientist had grabbed Shuri and led her to a secure room. They had assured her that everything would be fine, that she was to stay here and under no circumstances leave before someone came for her. The door had shut with a resounding click. Updeck, Shuri could hear frantic footfall, terrified screams, gunfire, and the fearsome roar of the monster. Shuri cowered in a corner, trying her best to calm her trembling body. She waited, and waited, and waited...)

But no one had come. 

(Little Shuri, prying and pulling at the door, screaming for help as water slowly seeped through the door.)

(The skies vanishing from the port window, consumed by the oceans as the ship sunk deeper... and deeper... and deeper...)

(The water was now higher than her height. Shuri doggy paddled towards the window, finally able to reach it. The ship had sunken to the seafloor. Shuri wasn't naive. She knew that from this far down, there was no way to reach the surface with one breath of air. But if she stayed here, the water would rob her of what little air there was left. No help would be able to get here in time with how fast the water was coming in. 

I am going to die, Shuri thinks tearfully. Mama... Baba... T'Challa... I'm sorry.)

(Shuri is almost out of air when she spots something outside, not far from the ship.

Something so peculiar it makes her do a double-take. 

A boy with skin the colour of a morning sky, was pinned to the ocean floor by a beam of metal that had fallen from the ship. He was cursing and snarling, shoving at the beam with all his might but to no avail. He wore dark shorts under a skirt of feathers, his chest bare, and on his arms were decorative bracelets and jade earrings hanging from his ears. Small streams of blood flowed through the water around him, coming from the wound at his waist where the structure had impacted. He didn't seem to have any problems breathing under the water, even without any form of breathing apparatus. 

"What are you?" Shuri whispered. 

Her first thought was that she was hallucinating. She rubbed her eyes and looked away before looking back, but he will still there, as real as her. 

Shuri had never been one to believe in fairytales, but if she had to guess what the boy was, she would have thought him a mermaid. It felt silly to think such a thing, but she had just seen a sea monster erupt from the ocean and sink her ship, was it truly impossible to think mermaids could be real? Whatever he was, he would not live long with a wound like that. Not if he didn't get help soon. Shuri couldn't provide medical assistance, but she could free him. Maybe he would be able to swim away and get himself help. 

At least one person can live from this, Shuri thought, her hands taking hold of the latch on the window. 

She hesitates. 

She did not want to die. 

She wanted to return to Wakanda. To her family's comforting embrace. To the safety of the palace that she called home. But she knew logically, that there was no getting out of this alive. She would drown either way, but at least this way... someone got to live and return to their loved ones. At least her death would mean something. 

Shuri took in a deep breath and ripped open the window. She swam towards the boy, ignoring him as he snarled at her and lashed out weakly. Shuri wasted no time attempting to move the beam; it was far too heavy and she would waste what little air she had. Instead, she started digging a hole under the boy, deep enough that he would be able to wriggle out. The boy caught on quickly and aided her as best he could. Shuri ignored the ache in her cheeks and the way her lungs felt like they would explode if she didn't get air soon. She swam behind the boy and pulled him out from under the beam. 

As soon as he was free, he covered the wound on his waist and looked at her. The look on his face was both curious and thankful. He lifted his hands in a gesture Shuri was unfamiliar with, then darted off into the ocean with bewildering speed.)

(Shuri tried to swim to the surface.  But her vision was blurring... her lungs were aching... the last of her air escaped her...

Then something emerged from the darkness. 

The sea monster.)

"He was stuck under a metal beam," Shuri remembers, her voice a whisper. "I got trapped inside the ship when it went down. I spotted him when I was looking out the window. I knew I was dead no matter what I did so I thought... maybe I could at least save him."

Shuri swallows hard, keeping her gaze away from the ship.

It was no longer any wonder why she had forgotten that day. The apprehension she must have felt as the water flooded the ship, as she had been forced to watch the surface disappear in the port window, as she was left with only a few inches of air to breathe in the room that would have been her finally tomb. To know that she only had a few minutes to live before she died. For a child to go through such horros... to be forced to make such an impossible choice... perhaps it would have been better for the memory to have stayed dead. 

"Talokanil children are rather infamous for their mischievous natures and Balam was no exception. He wanted to see humans for himself and followed the war party." Namor explains. "In the chaos of the attack, he became trapped and as no one knew he was there, he was left behind. After you freed him, he called upon me with a conch shell. That is when we first met."

"You saved me for saving him," Shuri realizes. "A life for a life."

"You nearly died saving one of my children. You, a mere child with no super strength or abilities, no weapons or technology to aid her and knowing you would die if you tried," There is something close to wonder and admiration in his voice. "It was that bravery and kindness that would persuade me to seek an alliance with Wakanda. If their Princess was of such virtue then the people must be the same. The reason Wakanda survives is because of you."

Shuri is unable to look away from Namor.

She feels overwhelmed, as if she is drowning all over again. 

Wakanda remains because of its alliance with Talokan. And that alliance was offered for her actions as a child. If she hadn't been brave enough to attempt to free the Talokanil child, she would have drowned long before the rest of the world. And Wakanda would have fallen to the same fate. 

Namor takes her to a cave, not far from the shipwreck. 

It reminds Shuri of the ones she and Riri had stayed in while they had been hostages in Talokan. They can only be accessed through an underwater cave network and the stalactites are encased in glowworms, basking the cave in a blue ambience. Unlike those caves, these one's walls are carved and painted with intricate Mayan hieroglyphics, much older than the ones she had seen in Namor's room. There is a steep staircase carved into one wall, leading up to a stone hut with beautiful carvings of the feathered serpent, its body coiling around the structure.

Shuri remembers this place.

It is where Namor brought her after saving her.

This is where I was when I went missing for a week, Shuri thinks. 

She remembers what lies at the top of the stairs, inside the small stone structure. It is a dwelling, fitted with a hammock, a table and set of chairs, shelves were carved into the walls and filled with old books and curious knickknacks from various places and time periods, and there were golden chests filled with clothes and jewellery. 

"What is this place?" Shuri asks. 

"A home away from home," Namor responds. "I have many dwellings like this one, scattered across the Earth for when I travel from Talokan.

Namor lights a fire and gives Shuri a cloak he has acquired from the stone hut. Namor wisely chooses not to sit next to her, taking a seat across from her, the crackling fire between them. They don't speak for a long time, Shuri staring numbly at the flames. 

"This is one of my favourite dwellings," Namor says conversationally. "It is adorned with artwork by my mother. Back then, we did not have the technology that we do today. No breathing apparatus to allow the Talokanil to walk the surface. And yet, she would often come here and hold her breath as she painted. She wasn't very good at holding her breath, so every minute or so she was back in the water before returning to her painting. It was a painstaking process, but she missed being able to paint as she did on land."

Namor glances around the cave. 

"These walls are filled with her past, my childhood, her hopes and visions for my future," Namor continues, smiling fondly. "I took comfort in them, long after her passing. Reading them makes me feel like she is still speaking to me."

Shuri closes her eyes, wishing he would stop speaking but hating herself that she wanted to know more. He wasn't being malicious, but hearing him speak of his mother was like pouring salt onto her open wounds. It reminds her of her own mother. The mother who had died by his hand. How was it fair that he could look back at the memories of his mother and be able to smile, while all she felt was an aching void in her chest, every memory tainted with a suffocating sorrow?

"My mother used to paint when she was younger. She left me artbooks," Shuri says with pointed dryness. "They were all destroyed when the palace flooded."

She means it as a barb, but with her eyes closed, she can't tell if it hit or not. 

He'll never apologise nor regret what he did, but if he has any empathy, especially for the woman he wants as his life partner, then it must at least sting to be reminded of what he has taken from her. How he has hurt her. Why it is that she hates him. That it is all his own doing. 

Let him feel just a bit of my pain, Shuri thinks, digging her nails into her arms. 

When she opens her eyes, they are burning with accusation.

"So tell me, how do you think it would work? If I said yes to your proposal? We get married, have a litter of children, and then they ask about their grandmother," Shuri drawls with as much casualness as she can. Cheerfully, she adds, "Oh well, funny story. Your father killed her along with her sister!"

"Princess," Namor says threateningly, but Shuri does not heed the warning.  

"Are there any other family members of mine that you've killed that you've yet to tell me about?" 

"Enough."

"I just want to know how awkward family photo album nights will be."

"I will not tolerate such insolence," Namor snaps, rising to his feet, "Not even from you."

"What are you going to do? Kill another family member of mine?" Shuri retorts, her voice rising. "Oh wait, there's none left on the family tree!"

He is by her side in an instant and Shuri is on her feet. He looks livid, the anger a terrifying beast within his eyes. Had it been any other day, it would have scared her, but right now, she does not care. There cannot be any more ways for him to hurt her. Not now. 

"I did what I had to, to keep my Kingdom safe," Namor emphasised each word, his eyes never leaving hers. "Nothing you say will ever make me regret that. As King it is my burden to make these difficult decisions, but make them I will."

Namor takes in a deep breath, his jaw clenched. After a second, he releases a deep sigh. "I do not enjoy the pain that I have caused you nor do I wish to inflict any more upon you. If I could free you of your suffering I would do it. You, more than anyone, do not deserve such pain."

Namor reaches for her, but Shuri bats his hand away.

She knows how easily his touch can distract her and she will not allow it to do so now. Her blood is too hot for that. The anger is more comforting and easy to understand than everything else that he makes her feel. 

"I cannot take your pain away, but I will work for the rest of eternity to make you happy," Namor swears.

"So long as you breathe I will never know happiness. There is nothing that you could do to ever make up for what you have done!"

Shuri cannot stand how well-hidden his emotions are, his face unreadable. She wants to see the hurt in his eyes. To know that she has the power to do that, even without her Black Panther strength. She gathers as much hatred as she can, holding it up like a sword.

"I will never be your Queen. I will never be your bride. I would rather die than willingly spend another moment longer in your company, El niño sin amor!" 

Namor stares at her for a long moment. In his eyes, she can see the cracks in his poker face, the torrent of emotions raging within them; vexation, fury, but most of all hurt. Her words have struck like the blade she intended, drawing blood. Her rejection stings. His mouth opens, but whatever argument he has dies and he looks away bitterly. His hands are clenched into fists and she can see the effort he is taking to restrain himself from reaching out to her. 

"You are angry, justly so," he says quietly. "I will leave you to your thoughts for now, Princess."

"You could just leave me alone forever. I will never give you what you want." 

"I promised you that I would chase you across the Earth if I had to, I intend to keep that promise. I will wait for you as long as I have to, even if I am left waiting until the day the stars burn out and we are all that is left in the darkness. I will wait."

"You can wait as long as you like, so long as you do it far away from me," Shuri seethes. 

She watches as Namor returns to the water to lick his wounds.

Once he is gone, she finally feels like she can breathe again. 

The artwork on the walls are beautiful. Every mural is intricately detailed. Flecks of gold. Precious stones embedded within. 

A Feathered Serpent soaring through the clouds, slithers of jade used for his feathers. A temple alight with an underwater star. A woman holding a child with pointed ears, bundled tightly in her arms in a blanket of gold, a snake entwined around her. The Talokanil swimming among the kelp, surrounded by jewel-encrusted fish. A jaguar pierced by a spear, another lying dead surrounded by red flowers. 

Mural after mural, every one lovingly crafted by a skilled hand. The hard work of Namor's beloved mother. 

The rock is sturdy in Shuri's hand. 

If she wants to hurt Namor - truly wound him as no other ever has - there will be no better way than to rob him of his mother's stories. The last remnants of her voice, carved within the bedrock of the cave. And what extra torment it would bring him to know that she was the one to do it. That opening his heart to her about his mother, entrusting her with his past, had not spared him this. 

He took her mother from her. 

He took her mother's sister. 

He destroyed her mother's art. 

He dared to promise her a family when he had ripped away hers from her arms. 

Shuri lifts the rock into the air.

Chapter Text

This is the least he deserves. 

One small retribution for his evils against the world. She owes it to the Earth, to her mother, her aunt, and herself. 

And yet when Shuri looks at the murals, she sees not Namor but a woman with skin kissed by the skies and dark hazel eyes determined as she struggles to hold her breath upon the surface that her body rejects, even as her heart yearns for it. A woman forced to flee from her home, to become something else than what she was, who had to learn to survive in an alien world so unlike her own - a struggle Shuri can relate to all too well. The sins of her child are not her own, she is an innocent woman who doesn't deserve to have what little remains of her wiped from existence. 

Shuri's grip on the rock loosens-

"Bast, damn it!"

With a scream of frustration that echoes throughout the cave, Shuri hurls the rock into the water, away from the mural and her shaking hands. She is panting heavily, her heart racing. With a curse, Shuri drags her hands down her face. 

If she cannot bring herself to smash one mural, how will she be able to bring herself to kill Namor if she ever has the opportunity? That was what it would all come down to. Namor would need to die for the war to end. 

Shuri retreats up the staircase and into the stone hut before collapsing into the hammock. She is exhausted in every possible way that a human could be, right down to the marrow in her bones. She buries herself beneath the thickly woven blankets and closes her eyes. 

Do not let me dream, Shuri pleads. Not tonight. Not after everything I have learned. 

Dreams of Namor do not visit her that night.

Instead, it is memories.

When little Shuri awakes, she is no longer drowning in the ocean, the shadow of a monster eclipsing her. She is lying in a nest of blankets within a cavern. The ceiling glows periwinkle with glowworms. Stalagmites rise from the ground like fangs.

Shuri has no idea where she is or how she has gotten here. The ship had been in the middle of The Atlantic Ocean; there were no islands nor ships nearby and Wakanda was too far away to be of any aid. She should be dead right now.  

Did the mermaid boy come back for me? Shuri wonders. 

She wobbles to her feet, taking a moment to steady herself. 

The lapping of water draws her attention to the nearby pool. Nervously, Shuri moves closer and peers down into the waters, half-excepting to see the boy with blue skin. What she sees is a streak of golden scales and brightly coloured feathers. 

Shuri shrieks and stumbles backwards. Her nails dig into the dirt as she scrambles to her feet and runs blindly away from the water, down dimly lit tunnels covered in glowing moss. She does not stop, even as she finds herself in narrower and smaller tunnels, safe from where a beast of that size could reach her. It is only when her lungs and legs are burning beyond her pain endurance that she lets herself collapse to her knees, panting heavily.

She is surprised when she realises that there is grass underneath her. 

She is in a garden. 

Flowers of every colour drape from the ceiling, bushes of greenery bursting from every crook and cranny in between small, trickling waterfalls. There is not a single plant that she recognises. Some even seem to give off a faint luminescent glow. Strangely, on the ground, there is only one kind of plant besides the grass; a blood-red flower that reminds her of a dahlia with several layers of delicately curled petals. 

Shuri reaches out to touch it-

"I would not touch that if I were you, Little One," someone warns her. 

Shuri whirls around. 

There stood a man among the blood-red blooms. A finely woven cloak hung over one half of his naked chest, clasped by golden chains embellished with pale pearls. There were lavishly decorated bracers on his arms and legs, embedded with precious stones and detailed designs. Shuri recognises the vibranium base of each piece of jewellery, her heart tightening with the implications - vibranium was only found in Wakanda, how had this man acquired it? Her eyes widen even more when they fall to his sandalled feet, noticing sets of wings on his ankles. 

"It is called the red death," the man continues, his voice pleasant, "and it is extremely poisonous. Once consumed it will slowly cease the pulse of your heart and infest your organs with cancerous growths. There is no known cure. Someone as small as you would not fare well for very long."

Shuri jumps away from the flowers, eyeing them as if they might spring up and ensnare her. 

The man chuckles and steps closer. 

Shuri takes a quick step backwards, her wary gaze darting to the stranger. 

The man stops, sensing her apprehension. 

"I promise you that I mean you no harm," the man raises both his hands in peace. "You are safe here."

"Where even is here?" Shuri asks, her voice shaking. "The last thing I remember was being on the ship when-"

When the monster struck. It is a vivid beast within her memories. A wild mane of feathers dripping with water. Its long snout armed with snake-like fangs. The roar it made that trembled metal. Its massive body of scales writhing in the water as it rears upwards, gleaming gold against the dark skies.

Shuri shakes her head harshly, wanting to forget it.

"Is this the monster's lair?" Shuri asks timidly, nervously glancing around. 

"Monster? If you are referring to The Feathered Serpent, then he will not harm you." 

"Feathered Serpent?" Shuri frowns. Worriedly, she says, "It sunk... it sunk my ship. My Aunt and the others, do you know if they're okay?"

The man's face is grim.

Shuri feels like someone has a grip on her heart and is squeezing mercilessly to the point of pain. There was no way they would have been able to escape that creature, even if they had gotten onto the lifeboats. Shuri's breath hitches and she looks away from the man as the first tears fall. 

"I am sorry for your loss, Little One," the man says softly. He cautiously approaches her and kneels beside her. From this close, even through tear-blurred eyes, she can see that the tips of his ears are pointed. "Were your parents onboard the ship?" 

Shuri shakes her head, fighting back her sniffles. She could feel herself getting more upset the more she thought about the fate that may have befallen her aunt. Had she drowned as Shuri almost had or had she fallen victim to the monster's gnashing teeth? Had it been quick or drawn out? What if she was still out there in need of rescuing, suffering in the ice-cold waters as danger lurked below?

Petals flutter from the ceiling, falling around her as if the very flowers weep for her sorrows. 

The man reaches into his cloak and pulls out an embroidered handkerchief. Tentatively, he dabs her wet cheeks, wiping away her tears. 

"Where are they?" He asks softly. 

"They're in Wa-" Shuri stops herself, biting her tongue. She cannot tell this stranger where she is from. She cannot tell anyone. Her nation's safety depends on Wakanda remaining a secret from the world. And this man, he is wearing vibranium as bold as brass - how could he have acquired it, unless he stole it from her nation? "They're home."

"And where is that?" The man insists. "I merely wish to know so that we can return you to your people. I do not imagine you would wish to stay in these caves for the rest of your days. Your family will be worried once your ship does not return."

Shuri swallows back her tears and tries to control her breathing. It takes a few moments, but the man waits patiently.

No matter how much her heart is aching for her aunt, she has to be careful not to let her grief dull her wits. She has to be careful not to reveal too much to this stranger. He speaks isixhosa, so he probably suspects she is from Southern Africa. Shuri thinks of the nations closest to Wakanda, where it wouldn't be too far for help to reach her when she finds a way to contact home.

"Zimbabwe," Shuri lies. 

The man tilts his head like he is listening intently. The corner of his lip tugs into a slight frown, his eyes narrowing ponderously. Shuri has a sinking feeling that he doesn't believe her lie - not good, as he'll question why she lied in the first place. He doesn't call her out on it though.

"How did I get here?" Shuri asks, hoping to divert his attention. Her voice is still shaky from her crying. "I thought I was a goner. Eaten by an ugly overgrown eel was not the way I wanted to go."

The man smiles, but there was something off about it, something sour as if she had offended him. He clears his throat. "The Feathered Serpent saved you and brought you here."

"So it can eat me later?" 

The man looks at her in amusement, shaking his head as if she were being dramatic.

"Nothing is going to eat you. Not while you are in my care. I will help you return home, but there are a few things that we must address before that is possible."

"Like what?" Shuri asks suspiciously. 

"Nothing for you to concern yourself with yet. For now, let me take you back to the main cave. We have prepared more comfortable accommodations for you."

The man offers Shuri his hand. 

"You haven't told me your name," Shuri points out.

"You have yet to tell me yours either."

"Shuri."

Not a lie, but not the complete truth either. Her title could complicate matters that were complicated enough as it was. Politics had always been a minefield, one Shuri still had much to learn about. Truthfully, she would rather avoid it all together. 

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Shuri," the man replies with a smile. "I have many names, but you may call me K'uk'ulkan."

Shuri hesitates, but takes his hand and lets him lead her away from the garden.

K'uk'ulkan, Shuri thinks as she lies in her hammock, scarcely awake. All those years ago, you asked me to call you by the name given to you by your people. By those who love you.

"I will never speak that name again," Shuri swears aloud, before drifting back to sleep. 

We will always be enemies, no matter what else between us changes. 

When Shuri first sees the daunting staircase, she asks K'uk'ulkan if he tortures all his guests this way. He chuckles and says this was tiny compared to the ones back home. 

Two women are waiting at the top of the stairs to greet them.

Shuri pauses, taken aback. They are like the little boy she had saved at the shipwreck, with skin the colour of the early morning skies. They are draped in orange traje dresses with black geometrical patterns sewn into the hems. On their faces are strange masks filled with water. 

They can't breathe on land, Shuri realizes. 

The women raise their arms and push their hands outwards, their fingers spread. It is the same gesture the little boy had made - a means of greeting or acknowledgement perhaps? They bow their heads to K'uk'ulkan and wait for him to speak. 

Shuri is starting to suspect that K'uk'ulkan is more than he has let on thus far. That he too is keeping his cards close to his chest. The way the women are acting around him, the more lavish ornamentation that he wears compared to them, suggests he holds a higher position within their society. 

"This is Itotia and Abha," K'uk'ulkan introduces them, gesturing to each of them. "They will take care of you while you stay with us. If you need anything do not hesitate to let them know. All I ask is you remain on your best behaviour."

Why does everyone think I'm out to cause trouble? Shuri thinks sourly, reminded of how her mother had said something similar before her departure. 

K'uk'ulkan returns the hand gesture to the handmaidens and then flies down the staircase. Shuri tries to watch him go, fascinated by his ability to fly and wanting to figure out exactly how his wings work, but the handmaidens gently usher her inside the stone hut.

They help her change into fresh clothes; a long-sleeved lilac dress with simple wave patterns, a sash across her waist and a dark purple cloak to keep her warm. They give her food. They prepare a hammock piled high with blankets and pillows. Unlike K'uk'ulkan, they do not share her language and Shuri wishes she had access to the palace laboratory; if she did she is sure she could create a transportable translator to help them understand each other. 

It is only when the handmaidens leave that Shuri allows the dam to break.

She buries herself among the pillows and quilts and weeps for her aunt and those that were lost with The Odysseus. 

Shuri is sitting on the staircase when K'uk'ulkan returns two days later.

"I have a gift for you," K'uk'ulkan says as he sits down beside her. He presents her with a black choker necklace, garnished with beautiful shells. "One of my people asked me to give you this as a token of their gratitude for saving them."

"The little blue boy!" Shuri gasps. "He is alright?"

K'uk'ulkan smiles. "He is recovering from his injuries, but he will be fine thanks to you. His name is Balam and his family offers you their thanks. His little sister Cualli was particularly happy to be reunited with her brother." 

"Please tell him I said thank you," Shuri says as she examines the necklace. "It's very pretty."

"Would you like help putting it on?"

Shuri nods and holds back her long braids as he fastens the necklace around her neck. 

"Thank you," Shuri says with a smile. Her face turns thoughtful. "May I ask you a question? 

K'uk'ulkan nods. 

"Well, actually I have several." Shuri pulls out a long piece of parchment and lets it unravel down past her feet. She suppresses a snigger at the startled widening of K'uk'ulkan's eyes. "What is this place? Are there more of you? Why were your people born with gills and blue skin; was it an evolutionary trait or a result of genetic engineering? Why are you different from your people? And they are your people, aren't they? They treat you were reverse which suggests a higher rank, perhaps a Chief or a King or a Shaman-"

K'uk'ulkan holds up his hand and clears his throat to halt her avalanche of questions. 

"You ask a lot of questions."

"I'm very inquisitive," Shuri shrugs. 

"I can see that," K'uk'ulkan grins. "But I am afraid there is only so much I can tell you."

"Why?" Shuri asks, disappointed. 

"Have you ever seen anyone like me or my people?" K'uk'ulkan asks, tilting his head. 

"No."

"Why do you think that is?" 

"You're hiding," Shuri realizes. "Why?"

"The world is not a kind place to people like us."

Shuri's eyes fall upon the jade and pearls adorning K'uk'ulkan's body. She thinks of the murals that line the walls of the cavern, each one embedded with precious stones and painted with flecks of gold. Wherever he and his people reside, it is clear they are not short on valuable resources, resources that the colonizers had torn apart nations and slaughtered and enslaved millions to acquire. It was the same reason Wakanda had hidden. To protect their people, their way of life and their resources. 

"I understand," Shuri says sincerely. 

"I think you do, perhaps more than you should." K'uk'ulkan looks at her pensively. He sighs, his gaze now bitter as he stares upwards. "The Surface World never changes."

Namor does not come for her the next day, but Shuri knows he has been here when she wakes.

Her diving suit necklace is gone, no doubt to ensure that she does not try escaping. There is fresh food on the table, alongside a single white flower. Hanging on the wall is a beautiful dress the colours of pearls with glittering crystals sewn onto the glossy fabric. There is an assortment of jade jewellery by the table; necklaces, bracelets and earrings. An outfit fit for a Princess. Or a Queen. 

Shuri doesn't touch any of it.

Fresh clothes were appealing, but she was not ready to wear Talokan attire. To do so would feel like a surrender and an acceptance. A petty win for Namor that she doesn't want to give him. The dress itself fills her with a foreboding dread for she knows what it heralds. Her return to Talokan. An end to her interference in the war. Her future in the palms of her enemy. 

Shuri can't stand to look at it any longer. She snatches it from the wall and flings it to the floor before storming out of the hut.

There is not much for her to do, so she takes a walk through the network of caves, pointedly keeping her eyes away from the murals lining the walls. If she looks at them, she cannot say whether she will be strong enough to resist the urge to pound them into dust. The temptation is a constant beat against her mind. 

It does not take long to find the garden from her memory. 

The sweet smell lures her in and this is where she remains. She takes refuge among the glowing flowers, lying on her back with her hands clasped over her stomach. She does what she had not had the chance to as a child and carefully observes every species of flower, making mental notes for each one. At least when she is in Talokan, she can learn more about them.

The thought makes her laugh, but it is a miserable, broken thing.

This is it, Shuri thinks. Game over. 

There was no way out of this. Namor would return and he would take her to Talokan, no amount of contempt spewed from her lips was going to deter him. And once he dragged her there she would not be able to leave. It would forever be her tomb.

He might let her return to Wakanda for a time, but would her nation want her back after she has failed them so epically? After she failed the world? Shuri wasn't even sure she had it in her to face them. The shame burned deep. 

Shuri rolls onto her stomach, idly playing with the poisonous plant Namor had once warned her about.

It seems unfair that something so innocent and beautiful could be so deadly. Looks had a funny way of deceiving. When Shuri had first met Namor, she would not have thought him capable of the destruction he had wrought - yet here they were, in his end game.  

Hesitantly, Shuri plucks three petals from the flower and tucks them into her pocket. 

They are as light as any feather, yet as she returns to the stone hut, they feel heavy enough to weigh her down. 

Shuri lies in the hammock and goes to sleep. 

The nightmares keep little Shuri awake at night.

She has barely slept a wink since she was brought to the caves below the waves. Every time she closes her eyes, she sees the frightful beast hissing as it slithers closer. Somewhere, she can hear the chilling cry of her aunt. Then she is back on the ship, backed up against the wall as a torrent of water crashes into her and fills her lungs. 

She wakes up breathless each time, sweat rushing down her face. 

Whenever she had bad dreams, she would sneak into her parent's room to snuggle into their bed, tucked in between the both of them. If they weren't there - away to visit the tribes or taking care of other royal duties -  her brother would lie in bed with her, telling her funny stories and comforting her with his warm embrace. 

She misses them. 

Shuri slips out of bed and wanders out of the hut. She lets her feet carry her down the staircase and towards the water, but keeps a fair distance away. She couldn't bring herself to go closer. Bast only knows what else was in there-

"Nightmares?"

Shuri gasps, clutching her heart as she spins around. 

K'uk'ulkan is sitting on the edge of the pool, one leg pulled towards his chest, the other dipped into the water. He has an amused smile on his lips at having scared her. 

Jerk, Shuri thinks with a scowl.

"Don't scare me like that!" Shuri scolds him. "Why are you creeping about?"

"You are the one who is 'creeping about'. You should be resting, it is very late," K'uk'ulkan says.

"Is it? It's hard to keep track of time down here." Shuri looks at him sheepishly. "I cannot sleep anyway."

"You miss your aunt."

Shuri nods. She can feel the tears bubbling inside her again, that well of hurt threatening to overflow. Would it always be like this, each time she thought of Subari? 

K'uk'ulkan gestures for her to sit beside him. Shuri shuffles closer but doesn't sit, eyeing the water warily.  

"There is nothing in the water here that will hurt you, I promise. Sit."

Shuri does so, crossing her legs and wrapping her arms around herself. 

K'uk'ulkan unfastens his cloak and drapes it over her. It is still warm from his body's heat. It is surprisingly soft and Shuri cannot help but snuggle into it. 

"You have never lost someone before, have you?" K'uk'ulkan inquires softly.

"No."  

She knew what it meant to die and had seen flickers of what grief could do to a person. She had attended many funerals in her role as Princess from a young age and knew there were little words that could comfort those that were bereaved. 

Death was painful beyond measure, Shuri had known that logically. But the person buried had never been someone who resided in her heart. The pain was worse than she could have imagined. It felt like someone had taken a knife and carved that part of her heart out, leaving her with a gaping hole that ached with every beat. 

"It is not an easy thing," K'uk'ulkan tells her. "I have lost many people in my life. Every single one of my people I consider them to be my children. I can protect them from much, but not everything. One day, they all must make their journey to Xibalba without me." 

"Xibalba?" 

"Where we believe our spirits go once they leave their mortal bodies. 

"Like the ancestral plane," Shuri says. "That is where my people believe we go once we die, to be reunited with our ancestors."

"Then one day you shall see your aunt again."

Shuri frowns, shaking her head.  

"You are sceptical."

"I was never really one to believe in fairytales. I prefer science. The Elders call me The Child Who Scorns Tradition," Shuri explains. "So I don't really think I'll see my aunt again or any of my loved ones when they pass."

For some, there was comfort in the notion that there was an afterlife. That one day they would see their loved ones again. That death was not the end. Shuri wished it were true, she truly did, but she couldn't. The dead were dead and that was that. While others held the comfort of a reunion after death, Shuri had resided to that cold hard fact. They only had this life and none other to be together. 

"But you'll get to see your people one day," Shuri points out. "That is what you believe, yes?"

K'uk'ulkan shakes his head, a sad smile on his lips. "I'm sure you have noticed that I am very different from the others. I can breathe the air on land and swim in the skies where they cannot. I do not age as they do. Where their bodies wither, mine remains untouched by time."

"You're saying thay you are immortal?" Shuri ponders over the possibility of such a thing. "How is that possible?"

"A gift from our God Chaac." The way he says it, with just a hint of derision, makes Shuri question whether he truly believes it was a gift. "I have been given the task to watch over my people, to protect them while they live in this world."

If what he said was true, it seemed a very difficult existence. To watch his people grow, to cherish them as his own children, to protect them with all he had only for them to go where he could not. To a place out of reach of his protection and guidance. To be forced to watch them age and know that each day was one day closer to their departure from this world. 

"Must get lonely," Shuri says quietly. 

The silence that follows is not uncomfortable, it is companionable. Shuri feels a strange sense of connection, like they are two kindred spirits taking solace in each other's company. The Believer left behind, unable to follow his people to the next life. And the Non-believer among the believers, who knows there is nowhere to go once this life is finished. Both left behind by their people in different ways that cannot be helped. 

"How old are you?" Shuri asks. 

K'uk'ulkan hums thoughtfully. "By your years, I assume? I have been alive for over five hundred years."

Shuri gasps. "You're so old! You're old enough to be my great-great-great-great-great-great-great-"

K'uk'ulkan covers her mouth with his hand, giving her a chiding glower. Shuri resists the urge to cheekily lick his hand to gross him out. It had always been an effective deterrent when T'Challa tried to physically shut her up when she teased him about Nakia. 

"When I was your age, I knew how to respect my Elders." 

"With how old you are, is there anyone alive that you can even call your Elder now?" Shuri teases after shoving his hand away. "I bet you're waaaay older and are just trying to make it less bad. You certainly look it."

K'uk'ulkan scoffs and kicks the water, splashing her.

Shuri erupts into giggles and it is not long before K'uk'ulkan's laughter joins her own.  

"I never did personally thank you for saving Balam. It was a very brave thing what you did," K'uk'ulkan says once their laughter fades. His smile remains, soft and full of admiration. "I know many valiant warriors who would have baulked at such a choice. Thank you for saving my child. I do not wish to be parted from them prematurely."

"You're welcome," Shuri smiles. 

For the remainder of the night, they remain by each other's side, happily conversing about anything and everything that came to mind.

K'uk'uklan reveals a little more about his world; an underwater empire where he rules as a King and God. He tells her of his people, how they had fled from those that wished to enslave and harm them, how Chaac had gifted them their abilities to live underwater. It reminds Shuri so much of Wakanda that it makes her heart ache, knowing another nation had been forced to hide as they had. They were alive because of it, their cultures intact and strong, their people secure and well cared for. 

But none of us should have been forced to do so, Shuri thinks. We should not have had to hide. 

K'uk'ulkan's voice is gentle, and all too easily Shuri feels her eyes begin to drift. 

Her head lowers to K'uk'ulkan's shoulder and she falls asleep to the sound of his voice. 

The irony, Shuri thinks bitterly, of you comforting me over the death of my aunt, when you were the one to take her from me. 

Shuri thinks about the memory, loathing how easily her younger self had been charmed by Namor, how quickly she had identified him as a kindred spirit. She hadn't been wrong, though it had been impossible for her to know just how similar the two of them would become. 

Born into royalty and raised to rule, an entire nation with millions of lives weighing heavy upon their shoulders before they walked their first step. Blessed by deities with gifts and powers to protect their nations. A determination and will as fierce as their respective animal avatars. A love for their people weaved into the fabric of their being. 

Their likeness diverges in what they were willing to do to protect their loved ones.

A King who burned the world to keep his people safe.

A Queen who gave up everything she had for a chance to save the world. 

They are mirrors.

Two sides of the same coin.

Love in its most destructive forms.

The destruction of others and the destruction of oneself. 

Namor does not return on the second day. 

Once again there is fresh food and a new gown waiting by her bedside.

Once again, Shuri throws the dress to the floor and ignores the food. 

With nothing else to occupy her time, it does not take long before she finds herself staring at the murals. Each one is masterfully done, still beautiful even with faded paint and missing flecks. She wonders how many people have had the privilege to see these. How often Namor makes the journey to see them, to take comfort in them. 

These walls are filled with her past, my childhood, her hopes and visions for my future, Namor had said. 

Shuri frowns, her gaze turning shrewd. There is something out of place about some of these murals, like jigsaw pieces placed in an incorrect way. Shuri walks around the cave, taking in each and every mural. There are at least three that stick out to her. Three that do not make sense. That should not be. 

The Panther speared through its side.

Far too alike her fateful battle with Namor to be anything but. 

A battle between the Talokanil and people with dark skin and clothing eerily similar to those worn by various Wakandan tribes.

Talokan had only encountered Wakanda less than a decade ago. 

The Feathered Serpent facing off against two women with dark skin, dressed in mourning garbs, spears held in their hands.

It looked similar to when Namor had introduced himself to her and her mother, the day they went to burn their mourning clothes by the river for T'Challa. 

These were all events that had happened long after Namor's mother had passed. Shuri was certain of it. When Namor had said that some of the murals were his mother's visions for his future, Shuri had not thought he had meant that literally. It was unsettling to think about, but after everything that Shuri had seen, it certainly was not impossible. Dr Strange had dabbled enough in divination to make Shuri a believer in it, even if she was still working out the exact science behind it. 

"Did you know what your son would do?" Shuri asks aloud. "Did you try and prevent it? Or was it always going to happen no matter what you did?" In a disquieting murmur, Shuri says, "Did you even want to stop him?"

It raises the daunting question of what mural represented what. Which were past events, what were hopeful dreams, and what one was still destined to occur?

Shuri stops before the largest mural, a chilling unease settling over her as she looks at it.

A woman holding a child with pointed ears, the baby bundled in fabrics of gold. Coiling around the woman is a snake, but perhaps it had been The Feathered Serpent, the feathers having faded over time.

At first glance, Shuri had thought it had been Namor's mother cradling him in her arms, at a time before she had taken the mystical herb that would transform her into a being of the sea. But Namor had been the first to be born in Talokan, the herb having affected him while he was in his mother's womb, her transformation occurring before his birth. 

This isn't his mother, Shuri realizes with growing horror. But it might be me. 

Shuri goes to sleep, dreading the memories that will come. 

On the fifth day, the handmaidens bring Shuri to a new cave. Any excitement she feels at the prospect of speaking to K'uk'ulkan dies when she sees the objects laying on the ground. 

At first glance, they look like a random assortment of junk; a hammer, a bracelet, a retractable spear, small pieces of scrap metal, a coil, an earring and a cylinder. But Shuri recognises them for what they are - and more alarmingly, so does K'uk'ulkan.

There is something different about him that makes Shuri uneasy. He stands before her, hands clasped, dressed in his usual white cloak laced with pearls but with the added addition of a golden shoulder guard in the image of a serpent. There is no warmth on his face, just an unreadable blankness. 

"Do you know what these objects are made from?" K'uk'ulkan asks lightly.

Vibranium is on the tip of her tongue, but Shuri keeps her lips tightly sealed. 

Shuri doesn't know where K'uk'ulkan got his vibranium from. Originally, she had thought it was possible he had stolen it, but given his people's ability to breathe underwater, it seemed more likely they had found it in previous Wakandan wreckages. Shuri curses whoever's bright idea it was to take vibranium-made items onboard. They had made their ship from lesser materials to prevent exactly this scenario. 

"Metal?" Shuri shrugs. 

K'uk'ulkan narrows his eyes.

"Playing the fool does not suit you, Shuri. I saw the recognition in your eyes when you saw me wearing this material. I know you know what it is and since you are remaining quiet about it, that tells me you understand the significance of it."

Shuri doesn't say anything.

She does not like this side of Namor. He seems colder, harsher, nothing like the gentle man who had shared in her pain of losing a loved one, who had distracted her from nightmares with tales of his Kingdom and had managed to make her laugh when she thought she never would again. There is no friendship to be found here, only an interrogation of a potential foe. 

"This material can only be found in Talokan, yet, my people discovered it inside your sunken ship. I can draw two conclusions from your people being in possession of it. Either you stole it-" 

Shuri opens her mouth to protest, but K'uk'ulkan gives her a warning look. 

"Or you have stumbled upon it. Perhaps my people have not been as careful as I believed."

"We didn't steal your vibranium!" Shuri protests defensively. 

She knows how dangerous the conversation has turned. K'uk'ulkan is a King of an Underwater nation. A nation that somehow, against her people's histories and legends, has vibranium. Any nation with such a resource cannot be taken lightly. Right now, K'uk'ulkan and his people are under the belief that someone has stolen their most valuable resource. If Shuri isn't careful, the blame could fall on an innocent nation or her own. It could cause an international conflict that neither nation could risk. 

He's acting this way as he's trying to protect his people, Shuri realizes. He's worried they're in danger. Just as Wakanda would be.

"If you did not steal it then how did you acquire it?" K'uk'ulkan challenges. 

Shuri glares at him, keeping her mouth shut. 

"If you do not tell me I will have to assume that Zimbabwe has not only discovered my people, but have also stolen from us," K'uk'ulkan explains, a dangerous edge to his voice. "I will have to retaliate. And I can assure you, that Talokan has more warriors than most nations have blades of grass. We will not fall."

"You can't!" Shuri panics. "I am not from Zimbabwe!"

"Then where are you from?"

"I can't say," Shuri pleads. 

"Then we have no choice." K'uk'ulkan sweeps passed her, his cloak brushing against her skin.

Shuri rushes to stop him, grinding to a halt before him with her arms spread wide. 

"You cannot attack an innocent nation! They do not have Vibranium nor do they know of you! I..."

It was becoming difficult to breathe. Her whole body felt like it was shaking. She couldn't let this happen. Couldn't let an international conflict erupt because of her lie and her people's negligence with vibranium. 

"I come from somewhere else, a place hidden from the world," Shuri admits with a heavy heart.

She feels like she is betraying her nation, but she has to make this right. As Princess of Wakanda, that is her duty. She has put a target on an innocent nation and her own people have been careless with their most valuable resource. K'uk'ulkan has every right to be worried about vibranium falling into the wrong hands. 

"Our legends say a meteorite hit our nation millions of years ago, leaving deposits of vibranium in the soil. That is how we have it. The meteorite must have split while it impacted the Earth's atmosphere and that is how both of our nations have it. No one stole anything."

K'uk'ulkan's face reveals none of his thoughts.

"If this is true, then your people are putting mine at risk, as well as themselves. This is not the only vibranium we have recovered from sunken ships. If the colonisers were to find it, it will not be long before they come seeking more. It will lead them right to us."

"If you let me return home, I will speak with the King and Queen. They will put a stop to the reckless abandonment of vibranium. They will make stricter rules to ensure it is protected." 

K'uk'ulkan looks at her thoughtfully. After a moment he gestures with his head for her to follow him. Shuri does so, allowing him to lead her through the tunnels until they reach a mural on the wall.

Shuri's eyes widen and she cannot stop the gasp leaving her lips. 

It is Wakanda. 

Nestled between mountains, the mighty river splitting the city in two before it succumbs to Warrior Falls. Soaring skyscrapers encircle the palace. Vehicles zip through the air. The people are dressed in traditional Wakandan attire. 

"My mother once spoke of a protected land, where the people did not have to leave, where they didn't have to hide who they were. A land with pristine air and the cleanest of water. A land gifted with what you call vibranium," K'uk'ulkan says, "She was gifted by our God Chaac with visions of the future. The nation she spoke of called itself Wakanda."

"You believe me then?" 

"It is hard to say, you are too upset to read your heartbeat for a truth or a lie."

Read her heartbeat? If he could do that, then surely he already knew she had been lying when she first said where she was from. 

Shuri swallows hard and takes in a shuddering breath. "I am telling the truth. I promise to speak to The King and Queen."

"They will have an audience with you?" He asks dubiously. 

"Of course." Shuri straightens her posture and speaks with as much strength and conviction as she can. "As Crown Princess of Wakanda, they will listen to me." 

"You never said you were a Princess. How very convenient for our conversation."

"You never said you were a King at first either," Shuri retorts. 

He smirks at that, but then his face hardens.

"I am not convinced," K'uk'ulkan replies. "No matter how much I searched, I could never find such a place. I do not think it is possible that another nation has hidden itself from the world as we have. The coincidence is too great."

"How can I prove it?" Shuri asks. 

"You can take me there," K'uk'ulkan replies. "And I will speak to the King and Queen myself. I would have to see this nation with my own eyes and speak to its rulers in person, to ensure my people's safety. If you are a Princess, surely you understand this."

You are giving me no choice, Shuri thinks despairingly. If I don't agree, then you attack an innocent nation. People will get hurt because of me and a few idiots who disobeyed the rules.

"If you attack Zimbabwe, you will be revealing yourself to the world," Shuri points out. 

"If they have our vibranium, it is only a matter of time before they come looking for more and discover us. I'd rather attack now while we have the element of surprise."

Shuri closes her eyes tightly.

I am out of my depths, Shuri thinks. 

"If I take you to Wakanda, will you swear on your God Chaac that you will seek an alliance? That you will do everything in your power to do so?" Shuri steps towards him, chin held high, hoping she can capture just a fraction of her mother's strength. " We are both nations who have hidden from the world, to protect ourselves. We are more alike than we are different. We could help each other." 

K'uk'ulkan bends on one knee before her. As he considers her proposal, Shuri feels sick with apprehension.

Is this how mother and father feel every time they play politics with Tribal Elders? Was it always so high stake? 

K'uk'ulkan places his hand palm up, a silent request for her hand. Shuri hesitantly obliges, remaining carefully neutral as he raises her hand to his lips and places a chaste kiss upon her knuckles. 

"Very well, Princess Shuri of Wakanda. You have my word."

Shuri awakes with a breath-robbing sob. 

Namor had warned her that she may not be able to accept the truth of her past with him, that it could make her hate herself as much as she hated him. The guilt seeps through every molecule of her body. She feels physically sick and has to grab onto the edges of the hammock as she almost retches. 

She remembers her mother crouched on the beach, a spear in her hands, demanding to know how Namor had gotten there. 

She remembers his army attacking Wakanda, the day her mother and many others had perished. 

Neither were feats that should have been possible. Namor and the Talokanil should not have been able to get past Wakanda's defences. Yet they had done it numerous times and on a scale that had nearly decimated their nation.

Namor had known how to get around their shields. 

And now Shuri knew why. 

I was the one who told him. 

Painted stone and broken jewels are scattered across the cavern floor. Where once was a mural of a mother and babe protectively embraced within the coils of a serpent, now stands a mosaic of spider-like cracks, impact craters and barren wall. Not a single inch has been spared Shuri's wrath, the stone crumbled to dust. 

Shuri kneels curled in on herself among the ruins, her hands held tightly to her chest. They are bruised, scratched and bleeding, every wound stinging. 

She does not look up when she hears the crunch of breaking stones under slow footfall. She closes her eyes, waiting for him to come at her like a storm; his voice a furious war cry, his eyes ablaze with unbridled rage, his hands hard and unforgiving as they grab for her. 

None of that happens. 

It takes her more strength than she will ever admit to look up and face what she has done. 

The look on Namor's face was utter devastation. 

There were glistening tears lining his eyes, one silently trailing down his cheek as he takes in the remains of the mural she has destroyed. His mouth hangs open in shock. His chest heaves with every breath. Shuri knows that look all too well - it was one he has made sure she is well-acquainted with. The look of someone who has had a section of their heart mercilessly carved out. She has destroyed a piece of his mother, a piece he will never get back. He will never see his mother in the next world, burdened by his duty to protect Talokan as he is. What little of her remains is all that he has. All he will ever have. And she has stolen a piece from him. 

Just as you stole pieces of my mother from me. 

Namor drops to his knees among the shards, his trembling hands hovering over each piece. Delicately, he takes the shard with the baby's face and cradles it to his chest. He closes his eyes, bowing his head. The anguished cry that rips free from his lungs was a desperate and haunting thing, a sound no one should be reduced to make. 

This was a victory. A strike against him. Proof once more that his armour is not impenetrable. That she alone can do what vibranium claws, blades and bullets cannot. She can leave a scar upon him that will not heal, that will forever tarnish his soul for as long as he breathes. This is what he deserved. This and so much more.

Then why do I not feel any better? 

Why do I feel worse? 

"I would have said yes," Shuri finds herself whispering. 

Namor slowly lifts his head to look at her. The fury burns brightly, but it cannot hide the aching hurt in his eyes. 

"If things had been different, I would have said yes to you." Let him know what could have been, let him be tormented by those 'fanciful what-ifs'. Even as it rips her apart. "I would have been with you. I would have married you." Her voice breaks, eyes falling to the shard in his hands. "I would have started a family with you."

They are meant to be spiteful, punishing lies, but she means every single one. And she knows those what-ifs will haunt her till she is old and grey. There is no hardness or venom in her voice as much as she tries. There is only a desolate grief that has been clawing at her since the day he killed her mother. 

Why was it, whenever she struck out against him, it felt like a double-edged sword destined to draw blood from her as much as it did him? How was it fair after everything he had done, it still hurt to lash out at him? Destroying the mural was only meant to hurt him, to bring him low, but instead, it has revealed far too much about herself. Her words do not sound like an attempt to make him further bleed. It sounds like a broken confession. Her feelings stripped bare for all to see.

"You have made it impossible," Shuri whimpers. "All you do is hurt me."

Namor remains silent.

Shuri bows her head, unable to stop the flood of tears.  

Chapter Text

This was not what he wanted.

The Princess on her knees, weeping among the ruins of his mother's mural.

Of all the murals she could have destroyed, she had chosen the one he had cherished most. All the care he had taken not to underestimate her - stripping her of her panther strength, limiting access to her allies, taking her technology - and still, she manages to bring him to his knees. He had forgotten that a jaguar needed no claws to rip out their prey's throats. 

Namor squeezes the jagged shard in his hands, tight enough to crack it in half. 

He had so little of his mother left. Her most precious of gifts - a promise of companionship after her death and centuries of loneliness - was now irreparably shattered. He took refuge here often when the death that was inflicted upon his people became too much to bare, it was this mural that kept him strong. A reminder that one day, he wouldn't be alone.

He wants to rage against the Princess for what she has done, this sacrilegious act she has committed against him. Against his mother. He wants to shake her and scream at her, to remind her of what he is. That he is The Feathered Serpent God and he can wash away her beloved nation with but a thought. 

But then she speaks, her voice trembling with regret.

"I would have said yes. If things had been different, I would have said yes to you. I would have been with you. I would have married you." Her voice cracks, eyes falling to the shard in his hands. "I would have started a family with you."

The Princess breaks down into hysterical tears, curling in on herself as though in physical pain. 

The sight of her so distraught and fragmented, stills him, leaching away every ounce of seething fury churning in his body. His heart aches in a way it has not in centuries, the guilt seeping into his bones and rubbing them raw. 

I keep forgetting how young you are, Namor thinks numbly, staring at the destruction her anger and pain have wrought. Pain that he has brought upon her. Too young to bare the weight of the ocean's might. Too young to understand the necessity of what I must do. 

Namor closes his eyes and breathes in deeply, willing the ache in his chest to lessen.

It doesn't.  

He does not wish to cause her pain and seeing her like this, knowing that it is him who has caused it, wounds him deeper than the Princess's vibranium claws ever had. His mother had told him that his love for those dear to him ran deeper than any ocean, that it would be a curse for him as it was a blessing to others.

He wanted to protect the Princess. Wanted to welcome her into his Kingdom once more and lavish her with treasures fitting of the Queen she was meant to be. To shield her away from the horrors that needed to be done. To bring her the happiness and peace that she deserved. To give her all that she had lost (all that he had taken). 

But she had wanted to go down this path of defiance, refusing to reign in her ambitions against him, wanting to save those who had scorned her. 

Seeing her like this, he wonders if he had miscalculated. If it would have been a mercy to have flung her over his shoulder when he had first found her after she had fled Wakanda, and dragged her back to Talokan. 

But he had wanted her to learn her lesson; that no matter how clever and resourceful she was he could not be defeated, that sometimes there was only so much one person could do, and that there was no shame in putting her people first. The greatest rulers were the most broken of people, and what she would learn could only benefit her once her Queenhood was restored. 

He had wanted her to find her peace in knowing that when she inevitably returned to him and their people, that she had tried her best to appease her morals and fight against him - that she had not meekly bowed and obeyed while her heart cried out with the ferociousness of a panther to fight for her beliefs. 

He had wanted to indulge her, hoping she would tire herself out and return to her home where it was safe, and she could find happiness among her people (with him). 

But now it was destroying her, piece by piece, day by day. The weight of the world and her impossible standards for herself slowly crushing her. 

He cannot change what has occurred, and if he could, he would not.

This is what must be done. The path they both needed to take.

If she wants to brand him as the villain, then fine. He will be whatever monster his people need him to be to keep them safe, just as he will be so for her people. He will shoulder that burden so that she will not have to. He realizes now he never should have tried to place such a responsibility on her; he was a God centuries her peer, and he'd had time to prepare himself for this. She had not - and that had been his mistake.

He will let her rage against him, let her strike out at him in any way she wants. He will grit his teeth and endure it, no matter how deeply her teeth sink into his soul and tear at it. 

If this is what she needs, so be it. 

Centuries from now, it will be but a distant memory. 

How cruel fate is, Namor muses, to give my enemy such power over me. 

So lost in her grief, the Princess does not notice his approach. He drops to his knees beside her, tentatively reaching out and wrapping his arms around her. He knows he has no right to offer her such comfort, but he cannot bare to see her like this. She has no fight in her right now, can only hide herself into his chest as years of pent-up feelings consume her. 

He sighs deeply, wanting to reach into her heart and snatch every scrap of pain that she is feeling and free her of it. He wants to tell her that one day she will see that this is the best for their people. A new beginning with all threats eliminated. Their people will never suffer from colonisers' greed; will never be ripped from their homes, their cultures destroyed, their resources stolen, and their people ensnared in chains and enslaved. They will be safe and protected. The brutality of what secured them their peace will become but a legend, a story of darker times that allowed the light to shine on better days. 

"My mother warned me that my love would break my heart," Namor murmurs against her hair with a tearful smile. "She said I would deserve it."

It was the cruellest thing his mother had ever said to him, the only time she had ever spoken to him with something close to anger and bitterness and resentment. An ominous warning she would not elaborate on. He had known that when his heart fell to another, it would not be easy, but he was sure that no matter the challenge he would overcome it. 

He had not imagined this. 

That he would be the source of such ruins for the one who had captured his love. 

"I am sorry, Princess," He rests his chin on her head and closes his eyes. "I wish you did not have to suffer like this."

"You made it this way," she whimpers. 

"I chose this path," he admits, "and I will bear the consequences."

His beloved who weeps for a world that had spurned her, who longs for a family he had taken from her, who mourns a mountain of what-if's that did nothing but torment her. He will bare her poisoned words and spiteful rejections. Will endure being seen as a monster in her eyes. A punishment he will embrace for all that he has taken from her - all that he may still take yet.

He will take solemn comfort in only one thing. 

He knows now what secret lies within her heart. That her heart yearns for him, as his yearns for her.

An unspoken confession drowned in her tears. 

It had been too much. 

Far too much to learn of her past with Namor, knowing her younger self had seen him as a kindred spirit, only for him to trap her in an impossible situation. A position no child should ever find themselves in; her people or another, war or betrayal. 

Shuri knows that had it been anyone else in her position, she would assure them that it hadn't been their fault. That it was the people who had foolishly taken vibranium from the safety of Wakanda without proper permission who was to blame; it was their carelessness that had led to the Taloknail discovering others were in possession of vibranium, leading to dangerous speculation of Talokan's safety and potentially stolen resources. Namor's interrogation that day had upset her, but she couldn't exactly blame him for it. Had the situations been reversed, she would have wanted - no, demanded - answers as well.

But it hadn't been someone else who had been in that position. 

It had been her. 

Namor had been able to present her mother with a terrible ultimatum; kill Riri Williams, an innocent young girl, or prepare for war against Talokan. His armies had been able to infiltrate Wakanda and attack, leading to the suffering of her people, the destruction of their homes and livelihoods, as well as the death of her mother. Those events happened because of her. Because of her choice. Because she hadn't been cunning enough to think of a way out of it when she should have. She was the brightest mind in Wakanda, it was her role to think of ways to overcome the impossible. 

The agony of the revelations had been blinding, the storm of emotions consuming. The fury, the guilt, the feeling of utter uselessness and regret battering against her like frigid hails.

She couldn't even remember leaving the hammock and making her way down the staircase. Could not recollect lifting the stone in the air and smashing it against the wall repeatedly, beating it again and again, ignorant of how she was hurting her own hands in the process, even as blood dripped from fresh wounds. When she had come too, the mural was already gone, shattered beyond redemption.

It hadn't lessened her pain, hadn't made her feel any better.

Only worse. 

Now here she was, broken and defeated, having cried herself to sleep in the arms of the monster who had brought her such misery. 

Namor's heart is a steady beat under Shuri's ear. He had not let her go and Shuri had lacked the strength to push him away, to lash out as her pride demanded. His arms are still wrapped tightly around her as they lie side by side among the rubble of his mother's mural. Namors chin rests atop her head and she has her own pressed against his chest. His warmth and the strength of his arms are a comfort she knows she will feel guilty about the next day.

For now, she has no energy to care.

She has no one else left to give her this.

Namor has made sure of that. 

When Shuri next wakes, she is no longer in Namor's arms.

While she has slept, he has busied himself with cooking her a fresh meal, lit a fire and draped a blanket over her body to keep her warm. He is attentive, she will give him that. Always looking out for the comfort and needs of those in his care, like a doting mother hen.

Shuri spots Namor sitting by the water, his back towards her. He doesn't say a word to her, even though his sharp hearing has probably detected that she is awake. Shuri sits up and pulls the blanket around her shoulders. 

"You did something to my memories that day you returned me to Wakanda." It is not a question, it is a statement, a fact. "Didn't you?"

It is one mystery she had yet to solve. Everyone had thought she had lost her memories of her time onboard The Odysseus as a coping mechanism, her mind having repressed the memories of that traumatic day. Shuri is confident now that it was anything but.

After having been forced to reveal Wakanda's existence and a means of bypassing their defences to allow Namor to take her home, Shuri is certain that she would have immediately told her mother - or someone, anyone - that Wakanda's security was compromised. That it needed to be altered and strengthened. That would have been a priority, right up there with a hidden civilisation with vibranium that knows of Wakanda's existence. 

Instead, Shuri had done neither of those things. She had simply forgotten everything. Seemingly repressed the memories the moment her feet touched dry land.

It didn't make sense. 

It was certainly convenient for Namor who had not immediately followed through with his promise. When he had taken her to Wakanda he could have demanded an audience with her parents to discuss the potential of their nations securing an alliance. But no, Namor had left her on the beach and vanished for over a decade. 

"I did," Namor admits. 

"You promised me you would seek an alliance."

"And an alliance is what I gave you. We had no discussions of timescales." 

Shuri scoffs, her eyes narrowing into a glare. 

"Besides, if I had sought an alliance on that day I left you on the beach, it never would have been possible. You knew the truth of what sunk your ship - of what killed a Wakandan royal. How long until Wakanda and you realised who had truly done so? Not a wayward sea creature but The King of Talokan. There would have been a war that would have jeopardised both our nation's security."

"You don't know that," Shuri challenges. 

"Was there not a war for your mother's death?" Namor shoots back. "Did she herself not cause one for you, her daughter? An attack on a royal is an attack on a nation, accidental, warranted or not. A retaliation would have been demanded, if not by your Aunt's aggrieved family, then the people who would not stand for the assault."

She wants to disagree, to insist that Wakanda would have overlooked his transgression to assure peace, but she knows that she would be lying. There would have been war. People on both sides would have died. Perhaps Namor may have even started his war against the surface world early. 

"What did you do to my memories to take them away?" Shuri asks. 

"Once we reached Wakanda, I gave you a tonic that removed them, carefully brewed by one of our Shamans. It should have been permanent. I can only guess that the herb you took to become the Black Panther was able to negate the effects of the elixir. All you needed was the right triggers to bring the memories back."

"With my memories gone, you could have still sought the alliance. Pretended you found me lost at sea, that our ship had been destroyed by a storm."

"I wanted a few years to learn more about your people. To ensure that I was making the right choice for Talokan and to put in place measures to protect us, should I have been wrong. But then your brother-" Shuri does not miss the disdain in which Namor speaks of T'Challa, and it raises her heckles, "-revealed Wakanda to the world and an alliance was... unlikely."

Shuri can tell that Namor had never - nor would he have ever - considered an alliance with Wakanda while T'Challa sat on the throne. 

It was her brother who had chosen to reveal Wakanda to the world - a decision she knew had more than ruffled Namor's feathers. Namor felt that extreme isolation and secrecy were the best policies to ensure the safety of his nation, and it had worked for more than five hundred years. He thought her brother a reckless fool for revealing Wakanda, that he was not fit to be a King as he had put his people in danger.

It was more still. For her brother had unwittingly sent the colonisers on a quest for Vibranium, which had endangered Talokan, conniving Namor that now was the time to attack before his Kingdom was discovered. 

Five centuries of hiding, of learning to adapt to unhospitable environments, re-building the empire the colonisers destroyed, only for one man's choice to jeopardise it all. 

Namor and his people had every reason to loathe her brother.

His passing was probably seen as a blessing. 

It had never been her brother's intention to put anyone in harms way, but how could he take into account a nation he hadn't even known existed? 

Shuri takes in a deep breath and rises to her feet. She wraps her arms around herself and walks to the edge of the water, standing next to Namor. 

"What will happen in Talokan?" Shuri asks quietly. 

"You will reside in the palace and will want for nothing," Namor replies, looking up at her. He reaches for her hand, thumb gently soothing her knuckles. "You will be free to explore my Kingdom at your leisure. No door will be closed to you. No one will treat you with anything but kindness and adoration. And should you wish to return to Wakanda for a time, I will allow that too."

Shuri wonders exactly how that will work, if he expects her to wear that wretched suit again or if he has taken measures to make the palace more livable for her. Living in a decompression chamber does not sound pleasant or practical in the long run. 

"Will I be sharing your quarters?" 

His fingers tense in her hands. When he speaks, his words are careful. "If you decide that you wish to reside with me, then yes. But, I have rooms of your own made, including a laboratory and art studio ready for you. There is an entire wing of the palace for you that no one will step foot in unless you allow it."

"Including you?"

His grip tightens.

"Including me." After a moment, Namor adds, "I do hope that you will accept my proposal when you are ready. That you will give me the chance to love you. That you will allow yourself to love me."

Shuri remains silent. 

Namor releases her hand and slips into the water.

"Come, it is time to leave for Talokan."

This is it, Shuri thinks.

The moment she had been dreading.

With a deep breath, she lowers herself into the water, holding onto the edge of the pool for support. She expects it to be freezing without her suit, but it is surprisingly adequate - not cold nor warm. 

Shuri holds out her hand expectantly. 

"I will need my diving suit necklace back then," Shuri points out. 

"You will not need it."

"In case you forgot, I do not have gills like your people. I need my suit to breathe underwater."

"I was confused why you had put that suit on when we first went into the water. I thought you had figured it out by now."

Shuri narrows her eyes. "Figured what out?" 

"I know how you became the Black Panther," Namor says. As he speaks there is admiration in his voice, but a bit of annoyance too. "That you used my mother's bracelet to recreate our people's scared herb, that you genetically altered it to create the star-shaped herb that Black Panthers consume to acquire their powers."

Shuri's mind rapidly goes through the list of people who knew how she had re-created the herb and wonders which one Namor had waterboarded into confessing that information. 

"The elixir that I gave you to take away your Black Panther strength was only designed to take away the star-shaped herbs enhancements, not those abilities granted by my people's sacred herb. The powers it granted remain untouched," Namor continues. "I thought you would have noticed, but you do your best to avoid going in the water, so perhaps it is not all that surprising."

("I must say, I was impressed with how long you were able to hold your breath underwater," Namor had said. "It was almost like you weren't holding your breath at all.")

("You can hear it too, can't you? " Cualli had asked. "The call of the ocean. My brother told me about it. He says whenever we leave the water, it calls for us to come back home. Where it's safe. Where our families and K'uk'ulkan wait for us. Reminding us not to stray for too long. I didn't know what he meant until I was taken from the sea."

"I'm not like you," Shuri had replied. "I'm not from the ocean."

"Maybe you're something else.")

"I nearly drowned that day on the cargo ship," Shuri points out sharply. "I passed out. I-"

"You passed out because you panicked," Namor takes her hand, pulling her into deeper water. "Submerge yourself in the water and breathe in. Once the water is in your lungs, your body will adjust and allow you to breathe as I do."

Shuri shakes her head. "I can't-"

"You can." 

It was appealing, the notion that there was some power still coursing through her veins. The ability to breathe underwater would be useful in this world Namor has moulded anew. 

Useful in Talokan too, she muses sourly. At least I would not have to wear that monstrous diving suit he gave me last time. 

But at the same time, it was an unnerving thought. To breathe on land and in the sea... it made her too much like Namor. Something else. Something other. An anomaly that shouldn't be. To the Talokanil, such a distinction meant something. 

She could see it in Namor's eyes.

It meant something to him too. 

"I know you do not want to trust me, but you know that I will not do something that will lead to your death," Namor assures her. "You can breathe underwater, I have seen it for myself and was told of it by my mother. She said that when I realised that I had given my heart to another, that you would have already unwittingly taken the measures which would make you more like me. That your body would become strong enough to survive the inhospitableness of the ocean's depths, that you could breathe on both land and sea."

"Your mother predicted all of that? How can you be sure it was me that she saw?" 

Namor brings her hand to his lips, chastely kissing her knuckles. 

"No one else has ever made me feel this way, only you, Shuri," Namor says softly. "I know you do not want to hear that right now, but it is why I am certain of this. My mother's visions always came true. I would not ask you to try this if I was not certain of its success. You are a scientist, I am asking you to test my hypothesis."

"Fine," Shuri bites out. "But if I drown I swear I will haunt you for all eternity."

He looks ready to say something she knows will be corny or cheesy, so she quickly covers his mouth with her free hand. She gives him a warning look. His eyes glimmer with amusement.

This is going to be very unpleasant, Shuri grouses. 

If this goes wrong then she will have approximately two minutes before she loses consciousness due to lack of oxygen. Namor will have to resuscitate her quickly to prevent any long-term damage to her body. At the very least she tries to comfort herself that Namor will not let her die. 

Against every instinct, Shuri takes no breath and allows Namor to pull her under the water.

She shuts her eyes tightly and inhales the water. It burns through her lungs and nose. Instantly, she feels herself panicking, her lungs wanting to reject the water. She tries to swim to the surface, but Namor pulls her deeper into the water and wraps his arms around her, pulling her to his chest. His hand goes to the back of her head, keeping her held there. Shuri shoves her hands against his chest, desperately trying to free herself. 

This was a stupid plan. Namor was delusional, hoping for the impossible so that he could live out his perfect happy ever after with her by his side. That her inability to live in Talokan would no longer be an obstacle.

As beautiful as his Kingdom was, without the ability to breathe underwater and endure the intense pressures, she would be severely limited and restricted in what she could do there. It would present too many practical difficulties and discomforts, and far too quickly she would come to resent his Kingdom and long for the land above. And what of his people? Would they accept one who could not freely live among them? A surface Dweller through and through? 

Shuri can already feel the fussy haze of unconsciousness threatening to take over her, just as it had before. Her panic bubbles like a fizzy drink ready to blow its cap, her attempts to shove Namor aside wild and desperate as her lungs suffocate.

Namor was mistaken. She was a fool for indulging him. There were surely better, less painful ways to test this theory. And now she was going to drown. She was going to drown just as her mama-

Namor releases her, but before she can shove him aside and swim to the surface, his hands frame her face and he kisses her. There is nothing sweet or seductive to his kiss, it is firm and grounding, pulling her from her rapidly spiralling thoughts with its abruptness. 

Shuri's eyes snap open, an indignant rage surging inside her. The audacity of this man! To kiss her now of all times-

Shuri rips her lips away from his with a snarl. 

"What do you think you are doing, you overgrown eel! You egotistical, feather-brained-"

Shuri's barrage of insults is stopped by Namor placing two digits over her lips. He gives her a lopsided grin, clearly amused.

"Forgive me, Princess. You were panicking, so I thought if I distracted you that it might allow your body to adjust. I was right. You can breathe underwater."

Shuri blinks, then realizes what had happened. 

She is breathing underwater without any breathing apparatus or gills, doing it through osmosis as Namor does. It feels... odd. Different. Unnatural.

She doesn't like it, not one bit. 

Namor reads her expression and laughs.

"You will get used to it. I remember how strange it was to take my first breath upon land. It was not comfortable. It took me a long time to adjust to it." 

Namor takes her hands in his, threading their fingers. He looks at her for a long moment, the softest of smiles on his lip. Finally, he leads her through the underwater tunnels, back into the open ocean. 

Shuri remains quiet, thinking over this latest development.

It wasn't the worse news. It meant that her life in Talokan would be easier and freer. That she would never have to dawn that ugly, chunky suit again or worry about it malfunctioning. She would be able to explore Talokan with ease should she want to.

It would make escape a possibility. 

But these newfound abilities brought with them one question that stirred an awful feeling of trepidation within her.

How else has the herb changed me? Shuri wonders. 

Shuri isn't sure she will ever get used to flying with Namor while he is in his serpent form. 

The views may be beautiful, but Shuri can hardly enjoy them while clutching onto Namor's feathers for dear life.

Thankfully, there are no loop-de-loops, sudden dives or fancy twirls in the air this time. Shuri had made it very clear that she was not impressed with his earlier show-pony impressions and would find a way to make him suffer if he dared pull any more stunts. Namor does not seem in the mood to test her patience and keeps to a steady and even pace. 

It will not be long before they arrive over Talokan and will take to the waters.

Waters that Shuri can now navigate without the assistance of diving equipment. 

That would have been a useful thing to know at the start of all this madness, Shuri muses bitterly.

She will have to run tests once she gets to Talokan and find out exactly what her new capabilities and limitations are. The herb seemed to be affecting her slightly differently from how it had affected Namor and his people; her skin, ears and ankles remained unchanged, probably due to the alterations she had made to the herb. She had countless questions about it that she would have to look into, a new project that she could bury herself in and hopefully use to forget where she would be staying. 

Trapped in Talokan.

Namor can fashion her gowns of pearl and jade, and weave golden shells within her hair. He can reside her in his splendid palace in the centre of his Kingdom. Place her upon a throne carved from the mightiest beasts that roam the ocean, slain by his own hand. 

It will not change a thing.

She will still be a stolen Princess, guarded zealousness by a serpent who is suffocating the world in its coils of gold. 

The monsters aren't supposed to win, Shuri thinks wistfully.

Was that not how every story went? Why did it seem she was stuck in the one timeline where that wasn't so? 

Her wrists vibrates. 

Shuri frowns, looking down to see her kimyo beads flashing. She presses down on one of the beads and a small countdown from 10 appears alongside the word 'jump'.

The message was from Bucky. 

Shuri quickly glances down and wishes she hadn't. If she squints, she can make out the faint glimmer of an aircraft, wading through the clouds for cover. The vessel is not too far from Namor, but The Feathered Serpent seems oblivious to its presence.

It wouldn't stay that way for long, especially not with what she was about to do. 

"Bast, give me strength," Shuri cringes. 

5... 4... 3...

"I am going to kill you for this, Bucky." 

2... 1...

Shuri launches herself off Namor.

It takes everything she has not to scream as her stomach jumps inside her. The freezing air batters her body, making her eyes water. She closes her eyes tightly, wishing for nothing more than to have her feet firmly on the ground. 

Someone grabs her by the hand and yanks her into the open cargo door of the aircraft. 

Shuri screams as she and her rescuer crash to the floor. Shuri pushes herself up onto her elbows, finding a grinning Bucky underneath her. 

"Bucky!" 

"Hi, Shuri." 

Shuri slaps his head. 

"Hey!" Bucky winces. "What was that for?" 

"This madness!" Shuri shrieks. "Are you insane? I didn't ask you to play knight in shining armour! Do you realise how much danger you've put yourself in?"

She hadn't asked for any rescue attempts, knowing they were too risky. Namor was not going to show any mercy to someone trying to steal her from him. And now Bucky had just drawn a target on his back for the scaley equivalent of a heat-seeking nuclear warhead! 

The vessel shook as a heart-stilling roar ripped through the skies.

Namor knew she was gone. 

And he had spotted the ship. 

"Shout at me later, we need to get out of here!"

They scramble to their feet, rushing to the cockpit and buckling into their seats. Bucky turns off the autopilot and clicks on a screen, showing Namor in his serpent form hurdling towards them at neck-break speed. 

"How did you know that I was in danger?" Shuri asks. 

"You wouldn't send me all of your unfinished research if something wasn't wrong. I tracked your kimyo beads to this location. I didn't expect that thing though!"

Bucky swerves the ship, narrowly missing being struck by Namor's whip-like tail. He curses under his breath and carries out various evasive manoeuvres to avoid Namor's attacks. 

Shuri grasps the armrests and winces as the ship jerks hard to the side, knocking her around in her seat. She was going to be covered head to toe in bruises after this! 

"Where in Bast's name did you learn to drive?" Shuri yells. 

"Same place as you!" Bucky quips cheekily.

"I'll have you know that I am an excellent pilot and driver!"

"Not what your brother or file said." 

"Someone obviously hacked that file!" 

Namor manages to ram the side of the ship, sending them into a sickening twirl that Bucky barely manages to correct. Shuri shuts her eyes as her stomach churns - being sick was not going to help this situation! 

"He's closing in! We're not gonna be able to outrun him!" Bucky grits his teeth. "Any ideas?" 

"Is this piece of junk cable of space travel?"

"Can he survive up there?"

Shuri shakes her head. "There's no air or water, he wouldn't be able to breathe without the proper equipment."

"Worth a shot!" Bucky yanks the steering wheel towards himself, pointing the ship upwards.

Shuri holds her breath and opens her eyes, watching the image of Namor chasing after the ship.

His colourful mane of feathers is whipping behind him, his body breaking through the clouds. He flies as he swims, his body slithering through the sky, bending and twisting like a snake. Sunlight glitters off droplets of water on his scales. 

Ever so slowly, The Feathered Serpent begins to fall further and further behind. It is when his lips pull back in a snarl and he lets loose a terrifying bellow, that Shuri knows that Namor has realized he will not be able to pursue them. Shuri refuses to let her eyes leave the screen until he is but a speck in the distance.

His enraged howl follows them long after. 

Shuri sighs in relief once darkness appears outside, speckled with twinkling stars. They have escaped the Earth's atmosphere. They have escaped The Feathered Serpent God. 

For now at least. 

Shuri flops backwards into her seat. Her nerves feel frayed beyond repair and her heart is a thunderous drum in her chest. Sweat trickles down her forehead and she finds she is feeling a little breathless. 

From the corner of her eye, she sees Bucky giving her a victorious grin. 

"That wasn't too hard," Bucky says. 

Shuri unbuckles her seatbelt and launches herself at him, smacking every part of his body that she can reach. Bucky cowers into his seat, feebly trying to block her blows and crying out as they hit. 

"I cannot believe you, you crazy white boy!"

Chapter Text

For the first time in years, Shuri feels she can breathe.

Here in the vastness of space, her enemy cannot reach her. She is not encircled by his domain. She does not have to listen for the breaking of water that signals Namor and his warrior's emergence from its depths. There is no rain beating down upon her skin like a war drum. No clouds from which Namor can descend. There is only silence and calm, the first true peace she has known since she first crossed paths with The King of Talokan. 

A part of Shuri cannot help but look out at the stars and think of the refuge they could provide. 

An escape from The Feathered Serpent God determined to ensnare her heart.

(The heart that longs for him as much as it loathes him).

Shuri and Bucky sit on the floor across from one another, their backs slumped against the walls. Between them is a floor-to-ceiling window, taking in the magnificent, glittering blues of the Milkyway. It is a sight Shuri has become well acquainted with from the many nights on her boat alone, staring up at the night sky - wishing on stars that she knows will let her down. 

"You know, after Thanos, I really thought the biggest threat to the world would come from space," Bucky mutters. "Not the ocean."

"That's what I thought too," Shuri responds. "Though if you had told me a few years ago that Earth would be invaded by aliens, I would have laughed. Never mind fish people taking over the planet."

"Led by an overgrown eel at that," Bucky adds. 

The thought of said overgrown eel makes Shuri's heart sink. She could only imagine what was going through Namor's head at this moment, and she knew none of it would be good. She would not be able to stay in the Earth's orbit long, lest Namor thinks she had deserted the planet for good.

Shuri didn't want to find out what Namor would do if she ran where he could not follow. His anger was as ferocious as a storm and as destructive as an Earthquake. The only ones he could lash out at would be Wakanda. Even with his promise not to punish her nation for her slights, she had a feeling this would be his breaking point. 

"Thank you for saving me," Shuri tells Bucky, "but you shouldn't have."

She knows that she sounds ungrateful, but the worry is a gnawing, ugly thing. Sooner or later, they will have to return to Earth. Sooner or later, Namor will find them. 

"Isn't that what friends do?" 

"You put yourself in too much danger for me. And that danger will never pass now." 

"No one's free of danger these days," Bucky snorts. 

Shuri doesn't know how to tell Bucky that he is in much more danger than anyone. He stole her from Namor, the God-King who loves her and had sworn to chase her across the Earth and seas until the stars winked out of existence. She would be tucked away in Talokan if not for Bucky's heroics. If Namor ever found out who Bucky was, there would be no mercy for him. 

"Does anyone know you saved me?" Shuri inquires. 

Bucky shakes his head. 

"Good." Since no one knew he had aided her, no one could brand him as a traitor. "At least you'll be able to return to The Resistance."

"Shuri."

Only one person has ever spoken her name like that; a pained, broken whisper that forwarned her that her world was ready to plummet into an abyss of darkness, never to be the same again. It was the way her mother had spoken her name before she discovered that her brother had died.

Shuri holds her breath and tenses for whatever blow Bucky is about to give her. 

For the longest moment, Bucky sits there with his jaw clenched, staring at the floor.

Shuri hadn't noticed before now, just how worn-down Bucky had become since she last saw him.

There are worry lines around his eyes and mouth. His hair falls to his shoulders in limp waves, his beard in dire need of a trim. Across the visible patches of his skin - his hand, his neck, his ankles - there are new scars. On his vibranium arm, he has painted it with dozens upon dozens of red crosses; Shuri recognizes them for what they are, each mark representing a fallen comrade that was close to him. Bucky had fought in many battles. He had endured things that no one should ever be made to endure. But it is this war that has left him so utterly wrecked with a haunted look in his eyes.

"There's hardly anyone left to go back to," Bucky confesses. 

The silence that follows is painful. 

"What do you mean?" Shuri asks quietly. 

He cannot mean what she thinks.

The thought is too abhorrent to even consider. 

With a sigh, Bucky looks upwards and says, "There are only three members of The Avengers left; myself, Supreme Sorcerer Wong, and The Hulk. Our mission is no longer to defeat the Talokail and their King. We are to protect the remaining survivors until a suitable alternative planet or dimension is found. Wong is scouting for such a place. Once he finds it, we're immediately to evacuate Earth."

Shuri stares at Bucky, completely at a loss for words. She wonders if the oxygen levels have fallen too low. If she is hallucinating this ridiculous conversation. She waits for a smile to break out on Bucky's face, for him to laugh and tell her it was a joke - an unfunny joke where the punchline would be his face for thinking it funny at all. 

He doesn't laugh. 

The oxygen levels are stable. 

"Please tell me you are not serious?" Shuri whispers. 

She is afraid to hear his answer, but she can already see it in his eyes. There is no hope there. No spark of fire ready to keep fighting. He is done. 

"I wish I wasn't." 

"No," Shuri shakes her head, rising to her feet. She can feel her pulse quickening with righteous fury. Her hands clench into fists. "No! You cannot be giving up. Not now. Not after everything we have all been through! After everything that we have lost!"

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. That The Resistance had finally given up. That they were willing to abandon their home - their entire world - to Namor. The man who had taken everything from them; their countries, their homes, their loved ones and peace. He who had united the world through their suffering at his hands. Namor did not deserve to win. He did not deserve to have everything that he wanted. 

So many people's lives had been stolen.

So many people had died fighting for this world. 

After everything, how could this be the end result? 

That they just... gave up.

"We cannot have fought this long, suffered so much, and have nothing to show for it!" Shuri snaps, her voice rising. "We cannot give up. We cannot let Namor win!"

"Shuri, there's nothing left to fight for," Bucky replies, his voice eerily calm - no, not calm, resigned. "The lands have been washed away. Our friends and family are dead. The rain won't stop. I can hardly remember what it feels like to have the sun on my skin. We can't fight anymore. We have tried everything. Sometimes you have to accept when the battle is lost and retreat."

"I cannot accept that." 

It can't all have been for nothing.

It cannot. 

"Shuri," Bucky says softly. "Have you seen The Earth? I think you should go look."

The Earth looms far below her in the viewscreen, a planet Shuri once knew now alien to her.

Gone are the greens of lush forests and jungles. Gone are the golds of the deserts and sandy beaches. There are only the blues of the ocean and the greys of rain clouds roaming the Earth. If any land remains, it is too small to spot with the naked eye.

She could not deny the proof before her. 

The war was over. 

Namor had won.

There truly was nothing left to fight for.

Even if she finished her weather modifier, what good would it do? The lands had been submerged and Shuri did not know if it was possible to lower the water levels so dramatically; even if there was a way, she had no resources, no man-power, and Namor would simply flood the Earth again or send his warriors to sabotage her efforts. And with The Resistance leaving... she would be on her own. Completely. 

There was no way she could win.

Shuri closes her eyes and releases a shuddering breath. She wraps her arms around herself and slowly sinks to her knees. She wants to cry, but she has no tears left to shed. She wants to rage and scream, but her energy is gone.

All she feels is numbness.

She had given up everything important to her; her home, her friends, her people, and her birthright. She had suffered so much; the death of her family, surviving in a world that grew more inhospitable with each passing day, enduring a loneliness that consumed her, and fighting for people who did nothing but scorn her.

Every day since Namor had declared war upon the world, she had worked herself to near death trying to find a way to defeat him. She had endured a war with herself, tormented by her accursed desires for a man who had brought her nothing but pain, whose company she yearned for as much as she despised. 

And it had all been for nothing. 

Namor had still won. 

Just as he said he would. 

Bucky finds her slouched against the viewscreen, her knees drawn to her chest. 

She doesn't know how long she has sat there, lost in her thoughts, refusing to move lest she catches a glimpse of the Earth again. The longer she looked at it, the more the numbness receded, replaced with a despairing ache that twisted at her very soul. It was a feeling she ought to be used to by now. There was very little that brought her joy these days. Everything was a constant reminder of the miserable fate the world had fallen to. 

"I'm sorry," Shuri whispers. "You risked so much to save me and I acted like a brat."

"Don't apologise. You should have seen my reaction when I first heard the plan. Punches may have been thrown; or rather, people were thrown." Bucky runs a hand through his hair and sighs. "But I don't think they're wrong. I can't see us winning this anymore. If we stay we're gonna be picked off one by one. They're too strong, Shuri. We've tried. We gave it everything that we had."

"I know," Shuri concedes. 

She knows that she has no right to be mad at anyone for deciding to leave Earth. There is only so much people can bear and there is no honour in senselessly dying for pride. Sometimes, you had to accept when the battle was lost.

It was a position Shuri had found herself in what seems like a lifetime ago. When Namor had brought his rains and winds to Wakanda. When she had been forced to make the difficult choice of allying Wakanda with Talokan or watch her nation be swept away by the rivers. 

She had saved her people with her choice, but she could not deny that in doing so she had played her role in bringing the world to its knees. Wakanda had been forced to participate in this madness; from wardogs sabotaging flood control measures and weapons designed to combat the Taloknail, to fighting side by side in the battle against the rest of the surface world. Wakanda's hands were not clean, but they had done what they had to in order to survive. 

Sometimes, there were no easy or good choices to make. 

Sometimes, you simply had to choose between a bullet or a blade.

"I'm sorry, Bucky," Shuri whimpers, her voice broken. "This is all my fault. If I had defeated Namor, none of this would have happened."

Wakanda's hands would not be stained. The world would not have drowned a slow and miserable death. Billions of people would not have had to suffer. Those that survived would not have to abandon their entire world to the madman who had caused them such agony. 

Bucky is kneeling beside her in a heartbeat, his hands firm on her shoulders.

"Listen to me. This is not your fault. None of this is your fault. This is all Namor's doing. You are not to blame for his actions." 

"But-"

"Did you flood the Earth?" Bucky cuts in sharply. "No. Did you send your armies to attack the Surface? No. But every single day since the first rain fell you have been doing everything within your power to try and find a solution. We only survived as long as we have because of your inventions. You gave up so much to help. You could have stayed in Wakanda where it was safe, but you chose to fight for us. You have done more for this planet than anyone."

Shuri wants to protest, but Bucky gives her a stern look that brokers no argument. 

"Shuri, that kind of thinking will slowly destroy you. I've seen it happen. Every single Avenger who fought Namor and lost had the same thoughts as you; if only I had been stronger, if only I had been faster, if only I had been smarter, I could have beaten him and this would be over. All the suffering that happens after their fight, they blame themselves for. Would you agree with them? Would you blame them for what has happened to the Earth, all because they couldn't defeat Namor?"

Shuri doesn't trust her voice, so instead, she shakes her head. 

She would never be so cruel as to blame them for something that wasn't their fault. They had fought with everything they had and most had given up their lives for that cause. 

"Then why do you blame yourself?" Bucky asks. "You're not to blame and neither were they. Remember that, Shuri. I don't know what will happen in the future, but one thing that will eat away at me is knowing that you're blaming yourself. You don't deserve those ghosts haunting you."

Shuri throws her arms around Bucky's neck and embraces him tightly.

"Thanks, Bucky," Shuri mumbles into his shoulder. 

She doesn't know if she will truly be able to accept his words or if the guilt and what-ifs will forever plague her, but hearing them has helped ease the ache in her heart, just a little. She may have lost, but Bucky is right, she tried her damned hardest. No one can deny her that. She did now bow to the tsunamis nor bend to the winds. She did not take the easy way out. She stood up for what she believed in and fought till the very end, even as it destroyed her in every way imaginable. 

"I'll tell you this, Shuri," Bucky says as he pulls back to look at her. He smiles at her, eyes shining with pride. "Your brother would have been proud of you."

They have enough supplies and oxygen to last them a week. 

They only stay in orbit for three days.

Bucky is needed with The Resistance and Shuri... Shuri needs to find her place in this new world. 

"Is this all that's left?" 

"Afraid so," Bucky sighs. 

Far below them is all that remains of The Resistance.

Thousands of ships from the titanic airship carriers to the smallest yachts. They are tiny dots far below their aircraft, bobbing among the choppy waters. It is a sobering sight, seeing how little people remain. Shuri is confident there are probably other groups of survivors lost within the immensity of the ocean, but from Bucky's intel, this is the largest group. The last stronghold. 

"Are you sure this is what you want, Shuri?" Bucky asks her. "You could come with us. With me."

They have argued about this several times since Shuri revealed her plans.

That she would not be returning to The Resistance or fleeing to another world as Bucky had suggested. 

It was a tempting thought, to run away and leave the Earth. There are millions of worlds out there and millions more yet to be discovered. She could find somewhere to settle among the stars and start a new life, free of heartbreaking memories and the enemy who searches for her. Even as powerful and resourceful as Namor was, he would not be able to find her should she flee to the furthest reaches of space. He couldn't. Not without leaving behind his people at least, something he would never fathom doing. 

"We can create you a disguise so that no one will recognise you, and if anyone does then Wong, Banner and I will protect you," Bucky continues, taking a seat beside Shuri on the edge of the open hanger door, their legs dangling in the air. "You don't have to be alone anymore, Shuri."

"I appreciate the offer, Bucky," Shuri replies softly. "But I can't go with you. No one trusts me within The Resistance after I saved a Talokanil. They would find out who I am sooner or later. It would put you and the remaining Avengers in trouble once they found out you helped me. You don't need the extra headache."

"You're worth any headache, Shuri." Bucky doesn't look at her as he says, "We could always go off together, we don't have to stay with The Resistance."

"We couldn't go off by ourselves into space, it would be too dangerous," Shuri points out. "Besides, Wakanda still stands and I have to make sure it stays that way."

"I don't mean to be a pessimist, but I don't think there's much you can do in that regard. Namor will kill you if you try."

He won't, she wants to say, but explaining how she is so certain would raise too many uncomfortable questions. She would rather keep her history with Namor - the moments they shared, the pleasure he brought her, the confession of his heart, and the oaths that he swore - hidden from everyone. She could not stomach the look of betrayal that would appear on Bucky's face should any of her secrets spill from her lips. She didn't trust that she could keep her complicated feelings hidden. 

Bucky had stood by her through everything. She didn't want him to look at her as the others did, with hateful, accusing eyes, branding her a traitor.

She already felt like one. These feelings were a curse. A blight against her. She should not hold anything but hatred for the God who drowned the world and took everything from her. Instead, somehow, he had carved a part of her heart solely for him, a part that raged a bitter war against the other pieces. A never-ending torture within herself that she wished would cease. 

"Wakanda is my country," Shuri says firmly. "I cannot completely abandon it, not like that."

"Are you going to go back to Wakanda then?" 

"Not yet."

Shuri has already thought about returning to Wakanda, but she knows the moment she steps foot on its shores, Namor will come for her. He had made it very clear that he plans for her to stay in Talokan, where she can remain close to him. She isn't ready for that, even though she knows now that it is nothing but an inevitability. 

Besides, even though Namor had promised he would allow her to return to Wakanda for a time, she isn't sure if she had the strength to face her people. Not right now. The shame of her defeats burns her too deeply. She had wanted to save the world, not just for the other nations but for Wakanda's sake too, and she had failed. Would they be able to look at her, knowing she had not been strong enough to save them from the world they live in now? 

She needs time for herself first. 

To rest.

To mourn.

To think. 

"Then where will you go?" Bucky questions. 

"I don't know," Shuri confesses. "Maybe I'll open up a boat shop." 

"I think you're making a mistake, Shuri," Bucky sighs.

"Opening a business in this economy, you're probably right."

"Shuri," Bucky scolds, not amused by her jokes. 

She can tell that he was more than displeased at her decision, even though he masquerades it reasonably well. If he could, she knows Bucky would tie her up and drag her to whatever universe Wong has chosen for them to immigrate to; but that would present too many technical difficulties and sooner or later Shuri would find her way back to Earth and he would have a bloody nose for his efforts. Forcing her would be a fool's errand. 

"If you can't go back to Wakanda, what reason do you have to stay on this planet? You're only going to struggle to survive. And what if Namor or one of his warriors find you?"

"I'll be fine, Bucky," Shuri swears.

"I really wish I could convince you," Bucky mutters. "I'll let you know when we've found a new home. It'll at least give you some time to change your mind. Promise me you'll be careful, no matter what choice you make."

"Don't I always?" Shuri grins. 

"Do I need to remind you that I just saved you from a giant flying lizard that took over the world?" Bucky points out. "How is that careful?" 

Shuri narrows her eyes.

Bucky wisely jumps to his feet before she can slap him again. 

Bucky lets her keep the aircraft. 

He jumps off the ship, landing in the waters far below. Shuri doesn't watch him swim to the nearest ship, already turning her vessel around to avoid drawing unwanted attention to herself. 

She cannot help but fear that this will be the last time she ever sees Bucky Barnes.

For the first time in her life, Shuri does not know where her place in the world is. 

It had always been clear to her who she was and what her purpose in life was.

To her mother and father, she was a beloved daughter; the light in their eyes, their pride and joy, a part of their legacy and gift to their nation. To her brother, she was a little sister; the bringer of his laughter, the pain in his neck, the smarts to his operations and the one he could always rely on. To her nation, she had been many things. A scientist dedicated to making life easier and safer for every Wakandan. A Princess and Queen, responsible for leading her nation and keeping it united. The Black Panther, the protector of Wakanda, duty bound to protect her nation even at the cost of her life. 

But Shuri is none of those things now. 

She is no longer a daughter or a little sister. 

She is no longer a Queen and is Princess in name only. 

She is no longer The Black Panther. 

With The Resistance leaving, there is no one left to fight for.

She has nowhere to go. 

No family to return to.

No duties or responsibilities. 

No war to fight. 

She doesn't know what to do anymore.

She is lost. 

There is no rain in the Yucatán Peninsula in Mexico.

It had been a whim to travel there, a shot in the dark. With Namor searching for her, Shuri decided to hide in the last place he would look. The land that his people had fled, the land where his mother was buried. It shouldn't surprise her that this land is the only one not submerged or suffering endless rain. His mother had missed the surface world, it was her resting place, if he was going to drown it, then it would be the last to fall - if it fell at all. 

Although Yucatán has thus far been spared, it was not completely without change.

No longer was it a peninsula, it was now a string of islands cut off from the mainland which had been immersed below the sea. 

It was within one of these islands were Shuri decides to make her new temporary home. For ease of mind, she opts to stay as far inland as she could, away from the crashing waves and endless blues of the ocean. She sets up a base near a cenote that will provide her with clean, fresh water and hides her ship under the canopy of the jungle. The first thing she does is crafts herself a spear made of bone and wood, giving her some protection from the wild animals that she may encounter while savaging for food, materials and tools. 

She draws up plans to make a forcefield perimeter to protect her base, blueprints for converting her aircraft into an amphibious vehicle, and better weapons to protect herself. Back in her laboratory in the palace, it would have only taken her a few days to achieve such goals. With the added burden of hunting and hauling tons of materials about, it would probably take her months. 

Or longer, Shuri muses bitterly. 

At the very least it is a task. A goal. A purpose. Something to occupy her time and keep her mind from thinking about the new reality that she finds herself in. She doesn't want to think about the war that the world has lost. Doesn't want to think about the path that lies ahead. She wants this numbness that has washed over her since seeing the Earth from above to last. She is tired of aching and hurting. She is tired of her feelings tearing her apart. She is tired of everything. 

She just wants to rest.

If she has to hide to do so then so be it. 

She knows Namor will find her eventually, and the next time he does, there will be no one there to save her. 

A month into her solitude, the haunting lullaby returns. 

Cualli had called it 'the call of the ocean', a song that the ocean sang to remind the Talokanil never to linger far from home. To return to their nation, their families, and their God. Shuri knows now it is a side-effect of the Talokan's scared herb that she used to create Wakanda's star-shaped herb. A further means of keeping the Talokanil safe and away from the dangers of the Surface World.

Where once it had been a comforting song of warmth and longing, spinning tales of a loving Kingdom that awaited her, now it was a dark and menacing warning. It grew with intensity every night, more beast-like than a soothing lullaby. It urges her to return, promising nothing but sorrow and loneliness should she stay away. From the moment the first note reaches her ears, restlessness unfurls inside her, her skin itching irritably. When it reaches its peak, Shuri struggles to breathe and feels as if a physical tether is pulling her south, towards the ocean beyond the jungle's reach. 

Shuri covers her ears with her pillow at night, blasts her music as loud as she can, and builds noise-cancelling headphones. Nothing works. The song persists, leaving her exhausted and irritable and afraid. 

Cualli had never spoken of how intense the call could get. 

Shuri begins to suspect it is because of her distance from the ocean. She could end it, she thinks, by going there, by diving into the waters and letting the salty waters wash over her skin. But she doesn't want to go near the ocean. Dosen't want to risk Namor finding her. 

She isn't ready.

She doesn't think she will ever be ready. 

Please, Shuri begs, let me rest.

Even in her dreams, she finds no peace.

Only the false promise of it. A hook to lure her in. Another of the ocean's tricks. Unlike before, it is not dreams of sweet seductions and pleasure that leave her needy and breathless when she wakes. These are dreams of what could be. Of an end to her loneliness and sadness. Innocent and soft moments free of the pain, more tempting than Shuri wants to admit. 

She sees herself in a laboratory, built within a cave with brightly painted walls. Her inventions were being used to help the Talokanil, like artificial limbs and specialised sea scooters to aid those with mobility issues. On glowing screens are plans to tackle various pollution problems that Talokan faces. Her skills being put to good use. Appreciated by those around her. 

In another dream, she sees herself swimming alongside Cualli, exploring a sunken ship from the fifteenth century. Cualli slips into a crack in the ship, only to come scurrying out as an enraged, tiny octopus chases after her. Shuri's laughter only died when the octopus turns on her. 

Sometimes she sees Namor in her dreams.

Together, they lie in his hammock, Shuri's face resting on his bare chest, his arm draped protectively over her. The two of them eating dinner at his table. Swimming hand in hand through his Kingdom as his people watch on. His hand capturing her own and bringing it to his lips to place a chaste kiss upon her knuckles. 

Tonight, the dream that comes to Shuri takes place in a cavern filled with murals painted by Namor's mother. 

Shuri is draped in a white gown adorned with pearls, shells and gleaming jade. In her arms is a babe, swathed in golden fabric. There is a string of pearls around the child's neck and little jade bracelets on her wrists, a panther and serpent etched on each. 

In the pool of water, Namor in his feathered serpent form emerges. His long body weaves in and out of the water in elegant arches, his golden scales shimmering with droplets of water. He looks down at the child and then sticks his tongue out, earning him a delighted squeal of giggles from the child. 

Shuri places the child down, gesturing for her to go see her father. The child stretches out her arms, little hands grasping the air as she takes her first wobbly step away from her mother. It is on the fourth step that she stumbles, but Namor's tail is ready and cushions her fall. The babe's laughter is like sunshine, lighting upon the dimly lit cavern. With a squeal of delight, the child cuddles into the bush of brightly coloured feathers. 

When Shuri awakes, she is burning with fury.

She grabs the nearest object and smashes it against the wall.

She is tired of taunting dreams and sinister songs. Of these dirty, underhanded, manipulative tricks trying to make her succumb. 

This is torture. 

A never-ending wave of it. 

You will not make me give in, Shuri thinks determinedly. No. You don't get to have everything. You do not get to back me into a corner like this. 

There is one thought in particular that leaves her blood boiling, that burns through the remaining numbness inside her. 

"Not even in your dreams will you see me again, Namor." 

"Perhaps you will see me in yours?" 

Shuri remembers those words spoken by Namor, after she had bidden farewell to Cualli, after Namor had promised to come after her. She might be being paranoid, but she has learned never to underestimate Namor. If he can being forth rains that flooded the Earth, if he could hear his people's call across the ocean, why couldn't he interfere with her dreams? 

You do not get to win everything, Shuri repeats the mantra. I will not let you. 

Bucky's message comes a month later.

We're leaving tomorrow. Last chance, Shuri.

I'm sorry, Bucky. I can't.

For Wakanda's sake she cannot leave. And now, after months of nightly torture, she knows she could not leave if she wanted to.

The call of the ocean would not let her. It had bound her to the ocean, making her return an inevitability. She didn't want to test how severe it would become should she escape to another world. It had rooted itself within her and would drive her to insanity if she tried. 

I figured that's what you would say. Even through the text, she can hear his disappointment. Stay safe, Shuri. 

There is one question she must ask, having no one else to confide in. A question that has hovered in the back of her mind since she lay within a garden of blooming flowers far below the waves, terrible revelations echoing in her head. Revelations that would lead to a retribution that forced a God to his knees.

Retribution that may not have been enough. 

Especially not now, not after the world had fallen.

Bucky, Shuri texts back, if you had the chance to kill Namor, even if it wouldn't change anything, would you? 

Bucky tries to call her, but she rejects it. It is too dangerous for him to speak to her face to face. If someone were to overhear their conversation and discover who he was conversing with - the traitor who aided their enemy, the Princess whose nation had stood against them - it would only mean trouble. Besides, she could not bare to hear his voice or see his face, knowing this very well would be the last time. Certainly not when it would be for an argument.

Shuri, pick up! 

No. Just answer the question.

Don't do anything stupid! Remember, you don't have your Black Panther strength and even when you did you couldn't defeat him.

Answer the question. 

There is a long pause.

Killing Namor would not change anything now. The damage was irreversible. Earth was uninhabitable, lives were gone that could never be brought back, and the hurt that Namor had inflicted was a scar that would burn for generations to come. He had accomplished all that he had set out to do and it could not be undone. 

Bucky's answer finally comes.

It is exactly what she expected.

Yes. Namor doesn't deserve to live. There is another pause before Bucky sends another message. Shuri, turn on the tracking system on your beads. I'm not letting you go on a suicide mission!

She wouldn't turn the tracker back on; she couldn't have Bucky putting himself in danger again. 

You need to go, Bucky. The people leaving Earth need you.

Shuri! Put on your damned tracker! 

Don't worry about me, Bucky. I won't do anything stupid. It was just a question. 

You're lying, Shuri. You wouldn't ask something like that without a reason!

I won't do anything. Goodbye, Bucky. Stay safe and take care of yourself.

Shuri! Don't do this!

Shuri blocks Bucky's signal. 

Shuri isn't sure why she had asked Bucky such a question. Perhaps she had been hoping for another answer. That hearing it would change her mind. 

But what other answer could there be? 

Anyone who had a shot of taking down Namor would do it in a heartbeat. 

Shuri just wishes she wasn't the one who had that opportunity. 

Under a twilight sky by firelight, Shuri pours the contents of a leather pouch into a wooden bowl. 

Three red petals flutter-free. 

With a large stone, Shuri grinds the petals into a fine powder and then adds water. She pours the mix into a small vial and ties it around her neck.

"It is called the red death," Namor has called it, his voice pleasant, "and it is extremely poisonous. Once consumed it will slowly cease the pulse of your heart and infest your organs with cancerous growths. There is no known cure.  Someone as small as you would not fare well for very long."

Shuri wonders if it will be enough to kill a God. 

Shuri does not seek out Namor. 

She waits for him to come to her. 

She sends a message to Wakanda, addressed to M'Baku. It tells him that The Resistance has abandoned Earth, that she will not be returning to Wakanda, and that she will remain behind to search for survivors. M'Baku's spies will already have informed him of The Resistance's surrender, but that is not the purpose of the message - a message she knows she will get no response to. 

M'Baku will be forced to inform Namor of her plans. If he does not, Namor's spies will.

Shuri is convinced that Namor knew that she would return, the ocean's call making escape impossible. But the message lets Namor know that she has returned to Earth. That he can resume his pursuit. 

Shuri waits. 

And waits. 

And waits. 

But when weeks turn into months, she comes to an unsettling realization. 

Namor is not coming.

And stranger still, the dreams and lullabies cease.

The cove is breathtakingly beautiful, a hidden pool of water protected by cliffs lush with greenery and blooming flowers. Through a narrow passageway, the ocean is visible and bathed by the pinkish glow of the rising sun. It is the closest Shuri has been to the sea in months. 

She has a theory that she needs to test. 

The call of the ocean had not given up until the moment she had decided to seek retribution against Namor. Whatever force the call was - whether it be the ocean, Namor himself or another deity or entity - it no longer wished her to seek out of the ocean. Whatever it was, it didn't want her to hurt Namor. And for some reason, her being away from the ocean ensured that - otherwise it would still be tempting her with its siren song. 

When Namor had found her on her boat, she hadn't understood how he had figured out where she was. She wonders now if her going into the ocean is how knew - ironically, she had done so to check for trackers attached to her ship. 

There is one way to test her theory. 

She just hopes she is ready for what it might bring if she is right. 

The water is cool against Shuri's skin as she steps into the tide, going deep enough that it reaches just below her neck. 

She waits an hour and when nothing happens she returns to her base camp. 

Every day at sunrise, she returns to the cove and waits in the water.

On the third day, The Feathered Serpent God finds her.

The trickle of rain is the first sign of his arrival.

The change in the course of the wind the second. 

Shuri stands waist-deep in the choppy water, dressed in denim shorts and an off-shoulder t-shirt. She watches the passageway that leads to the sea, warily monitoring the waters for signs of movement. The sun is breaking through the clouds on the horizon, gleaming rays of gold and auburn shimmering across the waves. 

Shuri doesn't realise Namor is behind her until strong arms wrap around her waist.

Shuri stays perfectly still as she asks, "This cove is connected to the ocean, that's how you found me, isn't it?" 

"Perhaps," Namor replies.

Which means yes.

"In other words, the ocean is a snitch."

Namor chuckles. 

Shuri resists the urge to elbow him in the stomach.

Namor rests his chin on her shoulder, his chest pressing against her back. They are intimately close, his body warm and solid against her own. She doesn't break free from his arms nor give him a tongue-lashing for his boldness. No, she needs him to let his guard down. To think that she is giving up. 

(And though she does not want to admit it, she wants to savour his nearness, enjoy his touch and kiss once more). 

"Is he nearby?" Namor asks. 

Shuri stills. "Who?"

"The one who stole you from me," Namor hisses darkly, his breath warm against her cheek. "Who was he?"

Chapter Text

When Shuri and Namor had fought on the beach, Shuri had aimed to kill. She had fought with everything she had, wanting nothing more than for her claws to rip through his flesh and paint the sand red with his blood. Her rage had been an inferno. Her grief all-consuming. Namor had not held back. He had known that one second of weakness, one hesitation, and she would have struck him down where he stood. 

Where was that determination now when she had Namor lying defenceless beneath her, when she had a means of killing him, even without the powers of the black panther? He had done worse since that day - a mountain of cruelties on a scale unimaginable. Yet here she was, refusing to leave the warmth of his arms, wanting to snuggle closer, to listen to the steady beat of his heart, and inhale the salty freshness of his skin. 

She feels sickened by herself. 

Weak. 

After everything he had done, she didn't want to give him up. 

But didn't the world deserve revenge? Didn't her mother? Her Aunt. Bucky. Those that had fled. Those that remained. She was the only one who had the opportunity and the means. The only chance of making Namor suffer for what he had done. 

Shuri observes Namor quietly as he sleeps, committing every detail to memory. The curve of his jaw, the bristles of his well-trimmed beard, the thickness of his eyelashes, the gleam of his jade nose bar and earrings, and the smooth lines of his ears that narrowed into pointed tips. Even in his slumber, he looks fearsome; the beauty of a sleeping cobra, deadly even at his most vulnerable. 

I do not want to let you go...

"I love you," Shuri whispers the words she will never admit to him while he is awake to hear. 

She places the softest of kisses over his heart. 

But I have to.

It was early afternoon by the time Shuri garnered the strength to try and wiggle free from Namor's grasp. It seems Namor was not pleased by this idea, and before Shuri could sit up, Namor had rolled them over so she was pinned firmly beneath him. Shuri huffs, glaring up at the grinning God who looked far too much awake for someone who had just woken up. How long has he been pretending to be asleep? 

"And where do you think you are going, Princess? Running away again?"

"To make breakfast." Shuri pushes at his chest. "Get off me."

"I will make breakfast."

"You always make breakfast."

"Most people would not complain when their partner wishes to cook for them." 

"Is that what you are?" Shuri asks lightly, fighting the flutter in her chest at the thought. "My partner?"

"That is for you to decide. We are definitely lovers, that I will not let you deny." He leans down, peppering her neck with kisses. Once he reaches her jaw, he brushes his nose along the side of her face until he reaches her ear, "but I would much prefer to be called your husband." 

When he kisses her, it is open-mouthed, lazy kisses that curl Shuri's toes and has her arching into him. His beard scratches against her skin. His hands wander down her body and one grasps her right thigh, pulling it over his hip. 

"That's the second time you've proposed to me," Shuri mutters, breaking the kiss for air. 

"Will you give me a different answer this time?" 

I want to. 

"I'm going to make breakfast."

She pushes him off of her and scrambles over to the fire. As she rekindles the flames, she hears Namor sigh under his breath, "That would be a no."

From her bag, Shuri pulls out some freshly caught fish, a flask of herbal tea, plates and two cups. She roasts the fish and then boils the water, all the while warily watching Namor from the corner of her eye. He is still lying down on his back, one arm covering his eyes. 

"How did you know to come here to escape the rains?" Namor asks. 

"I could not imagine you would flood your mother's resting place," Shuri explains. 

She doesn't mention that it was his mother's murals that gave her the idea; besides her son, Yucatán had been a favourite of hers to paint. If there was anywhere in the world that had been spared, it had to have been here. Mentioning this though would just bring up the fresh wound of the mural's destruction, of the hurtful words she had flung at him like daggers. Right now, she doesn't want to cause him any more heartache.

Not when she's planning on stopping his heart from beating forever. 

Shuri's back hides how her trembling fingers pour the contents of the poisoned vial into one of the cups; the one that is chipped, so that she does not confuse the two. When she turns around, Namor is already sitting cross-legged before the fire. He smiles at her as she places the cup before him, followed by the fish on a small plate. When his eyes fall to the plate, his smile wavers. 

"Have you been cooking often since we last had dinner together?" He asks far too casually to be so. 

Shuri glowers, reading between the lines. "It is perfectly edible, as was that last meal. I am a good cook."

"Practice does make perfect," Namor says, fighting back a smile. "And a fair amount of time has passed since then."

The cheek of this man. 

Shuri scoffs and swats his arm as she sits next to him. 

The grin he gives her is boyish and playful, and it makes Shuri's stomach churn that it could be his last. 

"Unless you want this plate thrown at your head, shut up, and eat," Shuri mutters. 

Shuri nibbles at her fish, focusing on anything but Namor and the cup sitting innocently before him. She tries to concentrate on her breathing and cease the slight tremor in her limbs. If she doesn't control herself, he will notice how nervous she is and realise something is wrong. 

"The fish is very... crispy."

"Would you have preferred it raw?" Shuri mumbles sourly.  

"I am not complaining." 

"It sounds like you are complaining."

Namor smirks, clearly enjoying riling her up.

Shuri wishes he would stop. He was making this harder, seeing this playful side of him that she seldom gets to see. 

It isn't long before Namor's hand seizes the cup.

Shuri turns away, unable to watch Namor lift it to his lips. Her hands are shaking as they hold her own cup. Every fibre of her body is screaming at her to snatch his cup before it is too late, that there's no going back from this - stupid, selfish thoughts, for this is what he deserves, isn't it? Do his victims not deserve justice for what he has done? Does she not deserve retribution for his wrongs against her? 

Shuri bites down hard on her lower lip. 

His death will be the last straw, she thinks weakly, I cannot bare any more pain.

Shuri closes her eyes, trying futilely to ignore the barrage of memories that her traitorous thoughts fire her way.

Namor emerging from the river on fluttering wings. Namor presenting her with his mother's bracelet and later tying it around her slender wrist. Their first kiss under a twilight sky. Sleeping together in a boat, among the ruins of his mother's mural, and in the sand. Their battles. Their arguments. The heated moments that she never should have let happen. His confession that had left her heart unsettled and mournful for a life that could have been - a life that will never be. 

"Princess?" Namor questions. 

Shuri's eyes snap open. Her hand has a death grip on Namor's wrist, stopping the cup from moving closer to his waiting lips. Namor looks at her quizzically, head tilted. Shuri hadn't even felt herself move. She stares dumbly at him for a moment, completely at a loss for what to do. 

"The cup," Shuri splutters.

"The cup?"

"The cup. It's chipped. The cup is chipped," Shuri shakes her head, wishing the Earth would swallow her whole. Bast, what was she doing? "The lip of the cup is chipped. I'll get you a different one."

She tries to take the cup from Namor, but he holds onto it, giving her a strange look - one she can hardly blame him for with how odd she was acting.

"I will be careful," he shrugs, holding the cup out of her reach. "It will not kill me, Princess."

It will if you don't give it to me, Shuri thinks helplessly. 

"You can't use a chipped cup!" Shuri winces at how forceful that comes out. How ludicrous she sounds. She takes in a calming breath. "Give it to me, please."

"This cup will be fine."

"Namor-"

Why was he being so Bast damned stubborn about this?  

"Tell me, Princess. Did you know there is a variety of marine life that have an extraordinary sense of smell?" Namor asks nonchalantly. The change of topic throws Shuri for a loop. "It is how they detect others within their species, predators... food." 

"What of it?" Shuri asks distractedly, her attention on the cup. 

"Taloknail shares this trait," Namor's finger idly traces the rim of the cup. "So for example, I can pick up the smell of each herb that you put into this tea; peppermint, lavender, blackberry leaf, sugar... U kíimile' Roja."

The red death.

He knows. 

Shuri drops her own cup, eyes snapping to Namor's face. She watches with growing dread as Namor's face becomes unreadable and hard as vibranium. There is no hint of his early playfulness, no warmth, no impish grin or eyes bright with amusement. Whatever side of him that is, it is gone, replaced by the impenetrable mask of the Feathered Serpent God.

"What did you think killing me would accomplish?" Namor asks, his voice cutting. "You admonish me at every turn for my brutality when you are no less ruthless."

"I am nothing like you," Shuri whispers, outraged that he would dare suggest such a thing. "I would never go to the lengths that you have."

"Haven't you? What do you call poisoning my drink?"

"I couldn't even bring myself to do it!" 

And it was nowhere near comparable to what he had done. 

"You got close though. Close enough that the poison was within an inch of my tongue." Namor smiles bitterly, placing the cup down. "You plucked the red death's petals in the cavern and carried them with you for over a year. You tricked me into coming here, poured the poison into the tea and then offered me it. You were willing to kill me, had plotted it for months, despite what it would cost you."

"After everything you have done, you cannot be surprised that killing you is a thought that has crossed my mind."

"I am not surprised, nor am I angry about that, but what does surprise and disappoint me is what you were willing to sacrifice to achieve that goal. Do you hate me so much that you are willing to let Wakanda burn for a taste of my blood? How is that anything but ruthless?"

Shuri's heart skips a beat. "Wakanda has nothing to do with this."

"They have everything to do with this!" Namor snaps. "Did you think there would not be retribution for you slaying the King of Talokan?"

"You swore that any move I made against you would not be held against Wakanda!" 

"Yes, I swore," Namor snarls. "My Generals did not. They know where I am and who I am with. They would have figured out what you had done and they would have made sure you were there to watch as they vanquished Wakanda, person by person, until all that was left was you in a sea of corpses."

Shuri's eyes widen, her mouth falling open. She feels like an antelope caught in headlights, frozen to the spot. 

That had not been her intention. She was not that callous. That ruthless. She had been trying to avenge Namor's victims as well as herself. The thought that Wakanda would have been destroyed had she succeeded shakes her to her very core, making her feel sick with unease and guilt. 

"No, I do not think that is what you intended, is it, Princess?" Namor says thoughtfully as he observes her. He shakes his head, chuckling bitterly. "Not cruel or uncaring, simply foolish and blind. You were making the same mistake that your mother did."

"Don't you dare mention my mother," Shuri rasps, her eyes hardening. "Do not bring her into this."

"She allowed her emotion to cloud her judgement too. You want to torture yourself with what-ifs and could-have-been's, then think about how different things could have been had your mother done as a Queen should have and put her people first. Your mother acted in haste, sending her war dog to steal you from me, regardless of whether or not it started a war. Two innocent handmaidens died because of her and her last remaining child was left without a family. You are following in her footsteps, acting without thinking of the consequences."

Shuri tries to slap his face, furious at how he paints her mother. Her mother was a good Queen, loved by all and respected. He had no right to sully her name!

Namor catches her wrist. 

"This is a lesson that you need to learn and you need to learn fast," Namor growls. "The world has changed, whether you wish to accept it or not. Wakanda lives because of you, but it also lives because of me. It is our history, our connection, that ensures its survival. It is that same bond that protects you. If anyone else had tried even a fraction of what you had I would have slain them without hesitation."

Shuri tries to pull herself free from him, but Namor refuses. 

"I admire your defiance as much as it vexes me, but I need you to understand the consequences of my death. If you want Wakanda to survive, then I must live. There is nothing else that ties our nations together, other than my agreement to an alliance. With me gone, there is no guarantee that who comes after me will be so lenient to a nation that scorns us at every turn."

Namor releases Shuri, causing her to stumble. 

"But, perhaps the greatest teacher is experience," Namor says with a shrug, lifting the poisoned cup from the ground. "I have lived a long life, my people's safety is secured, and the one who holds my heart wants me dead. I do not like to deny you, Princess, so have it your way."

Namor lifts the cup to his lips.

"Wait, what are- No! Stop! Namor-" 

Shuri throws herself at him, trying to grab the cup, but it is too late. She can only stare numbly, completely shell-shocked as Namor lowers the now empty cup, wipes his mouth with his free hand, and then shatters the cup against a tree. Shuri flinches.

"Why?" Shuri murmurs. "Why did you- you knew what was in it."

"You wanted me dead, what does it matter? Why spill tears for me?"

Shuri's voice is stuck in her throat. Her feet are rooted to the spot. All she can do is stare at Namor in utter horror at what he had just done. The poison wouldn't affect him immediately, not from what she understood of it. It was a slow killer, filling one's body with cancerous growths and slowing their heartbeat. It could take hours, days, or maybe longer, but the end result would be the same. 

Namor would die. 

"I'll find a cure," Shuri says quickly, running her hands through her hair. "If you take me to the cavern where the flower grows I can run an analysis on it. I'll find a way to undo this. Just-"

"There is no cure for it," Namor grits out.

"There has to be!"

"There isn't. What is the matter, Princess? Is this not what you wanted?"

"You know it wasn't!" Shuri cries. "I stopped you drinking it because I couldn't go through with it! I didn't want you to-"

She was starting to hyperventilate. It was getting harder to breathe. There was an ache in her chest so painful that she has to bring a hand to her chest and apply pressure to try and ease it.

None of this was what she had wanted. She was just so angry and hurt and ridden with guilt for not being able to save everyone. She had wanted to give the Earth the justice it deserved. But now... now Wakanda would perish. And Namor was going to die.

It was too much.

She couldn't take this. 

"You didn't want me to what?" Namor asks. 

Shuri shakes her head, tears stinging her eyes. 

Namor grabs her chin and forces her to look at him.

"You didn't want me to what?" Namor shouts. 

"I didn't want you to die!" Shuri snaps, shoving his hand aside. "It was what I had to do. I thought I wanted it but I don't. I can't bear the thought of you not being alive!"

Shuri's tears come faster now.

She closes her eyes, a hand covering her mouth.

"I am not going to die, Princess," Namor's words are like a bucket of cold water. Shuri looks up at him sharply, startled. "I am a God and a God cannot die. Not even the red death can take me." As if to add insult to injury, Namor adds, "I sometimes even enjoy it with my tea."

"But you-"

"This fear you feel just now, never forget it," Namor whispers darkly. "The next time you think of taking my life, remember it. Even without me and my gifts, your people are no match for Talokan. They will show no mercy to those who destroyed their God. And that pain you felt at the thought of never seeing me again, I want you to remember that too. Never attempt anything like this again. Throw your hateful words and tantrums at me, deny me the sight, feel and pleasure of your company, but never try this again. Swear it to me now."

If you cannot be killed, why scare me like this? Shuri thinks, her body shaking. Why make such a demand? To punish me for daring to try? Or are you afraid I could find a way? 

M'Baku had once told her he believed Namor knew she was a threat, that Namor had once been afraid she might actually beat him. Was this that fear rearing its head? It must be. Although she had not followed through, and even though her means of killing him had been ineffective, the fact of the matter was she had gotten this far. The poison had been right next to his lips. Namor was not entirely convinced that she could not find a way to kill him. He was making sure that danger was nipped in the bud. That she would never attempt such a thing again. 

And she wouldn't. 

Not after this. 

He had scared her too greatly. 

"Swear it, Princess!" 

Shuri closes her eyes. 

"I swear."

Namor leaves her on the beach.

She knows that he will return, that he is only giving her - and himself - time to recover from their fight. 

There is no point attempting to escape for there is nowhere to go. Besides Wakanda, the islands of Yucatán are all that remains of dry land. Taking to the sea by boat to live out her days on the ocean would be next to impossible and the moment she stepped into the waters, Namor would know where she is and take her back to Talokan.

With nothing else to do, Shuri returns to her base camp, curls up in her bed, and waits for Namor to return. 

As she lies there, waiting for the next day, she makes a bitter, difficult promise to herself. 

That she will be more careful.

That she will learn to control her emotions better. 

That she will never put Wakanda in such danger again.

That she will do what she has to to keep it safe. 

No matter what that is.

Three days later, Shuri finds Namor at her campsite. He sits on the edge of the cenote entrance, one leg dangling over the ledge while one knee is drawn to his chest. Shuri bites back the question of how he got past her forcefields, knowing he was unlikely to tell her. Instead, she takes a seat beside him, dangling her legs over the edge. 

It is a long drop-down into the cenote. The waters at the bottom glisten in the beams of sunlight that slither through the jungle canopy above them. Exotic, colourful flowers bloom around them and the shrubbery rustles with the light breeze, carrying with it a sweet smell. The God and Princess sit there quietly, both saying nothing for the longest time. The silence is filled with the rippling waterfall falling into the cenote and chirping birds.

"I'm sorry," Shuri mutters. "I should not have tried to kill you."

Namor snorts, "You are not sorry, you are only sorry for Wakanda's sake - do not think I do not know when someone is not earnest and simply playing politics. Besides, it is hardly the first time you have tried to kill me and I have tried to kill you many times as well. I would say we are even in that regard. Take ease, Wakanda is safe."

Shuri plucks a small flower from the grass, playing with its petals. 

"I have never broken my word, not once in five centuries. If I say I will do something, I will do it and as such I know never to make an idle threat. It was a point of pride for me; it enabled my people to trust me and my enemies to fear me. I once made a promise to your mother that I would kill you if she tried to find my Kingdom. She did exactly that. I fully intended to carry out that threat, the same way I have with every other threat I have ever made in my life."

Namor laughs, shaking his head. 

"And when the opportunity arouse, I spared you. Not once, but twice. I could not do it."

He turns to look at her, his eyes softening.

"Keeping you alive is madness. If you wanted to, I do not doubt that you could destroy me. Sooner or later, you would find a way. I should have killed you on that aircraft when I first attacked Wakanda. I should have impaled your heart during our fight on the beach. I couldn't. When I realized what you intended to do with the red death's petals, I wondered if you would be able to do what I could not. But just as I could not kill you, you can not bring yourself to kill me. We are not each other's end."

"Then what are we?" Shuri asks, "Each other's misery?"

"We could be each other's happiness."

Shuri doesn't reply. 

Namor sighs. "I will not force you to return to Talokan."

That surprises her. "Why?" 

"I've decided I want you to come of your own free will, that is how I have always wanted it," Namor replies, staring down into the waters below. "You need time to heal and I do not think my being here helps you - no matter how much I wish it did. I know you feel lost, I know you feel as if there is nowhere for you in this world, but there is a place for you in Talokan. In Wakanda. Your people need you. They need their Black Panther to protect them. Their Queen to led them. Their greatest mind to aid them in their plights."

I nearly got them killed. I do not deserve to return there. 

"I know you wish to go back, even though you feel that you cannot," Namor continues. "I know there are other things that you want, things you have been fighting against for many years, things that I hope one day you will allow yourself to have. When you are ready to listen to your heart, summon me, and I will come. Until then, stay here where it is safe. My rains will not come here nor will the ocean swallow the lands."

"And if I never do?"

"Never is an awfully long time, Princess." Namor offers her his hand and pulls her to his feet. He places a hand on her cheek, softly observing her like he was committing every detail of her face to memory. "You do not need to subject yourself to endless misery. You do not need to punish yourself for what I have done. After everything that you have been through, you deserve happiness."

He leans down and kisses her forehead, his lips lingering. 

"I will be waiting for you," Namor whispers, "as will our people."

The next day, Shuri finds a conch shell beside her bed.

It remains there for half a year before the temptation becomes too great and Shuri hides it deep within the centoe.

Out of sight and mostly out of mind.  

In the years that follow, Shuri makes a place for herself among the survivors in Yucatán. 

Although these lands have been spared the unyielding rains and winds, they too bear scars from Namor's war. They have been extensively damaged by flooding underground rivers and cenotes, separating the land into a series of various-sized islands - Shuri figures the reason for this was to destabilise the country, preventing it from being used as a home base for The Resistance when they were still on Earth. The biggest of these islands lie in the area where the capital city of Mérida was located; a once bustling city now reduced to a hollow ghost shell, much of its infrastructure swallowed by sinkholes and hidden rivers. 

This is where most who remain reside. There are not many, perhaps only a few thousand natives and two or three hundred refugees who were lucky enough to stumble upon the island while escaping the flooding in their homelands. 

It is here that Shuri finds a purpose. 

For her protection, she dawns a new identity, becoming Onika from Tanzania. When asked, she keeps her history vague, and thankfully, not many are bold enough to press for more information. In this new world, no one is without heartache and scars, their pasts are a gaping hole of sorrow and loss. Most people keep going only by trying to forget what has led them to this point. It is a despairing fact, but it keeps Shuri's identity safe. If anyone were to find out who she truly was - The Princess of the nation that betrayed the world - they would turn on her, and truthfully, she couldn't blame them. 

During the day, Shuri joins the efforts to build a safe haven for the survivors. 

There is a team of scientists stationed on the coast that have dedicated themselves to tackling various issues the islands face. Shuri is welcomed with open arms and spends her time working on various projects; creating new tools and machines to help in the construction of infrastructure, repairing artificial limbs and mobility vehicles for survivors, drawing up plans on how to recover much-needed resources from the ocean, and tackling food and medicine shortages. It keeps her busy, her mind focused, and it feels good to have a purpose, to feel like she is doing right again. 

It is Shuri who devises various schemes to locate any survivors who have been missed by The Resistance. Search parties are formed and set out on amphibious vehicles while construction units set up beacons that emit multi-lingo messages, directing survivors to the islands of Yucatán. In the first year of their construction, no one arrives, but after that, they come in dribs and drabs, people from across the globe on home-build rafts, cruisers, canal barges, ferries and one man on a rubber dingy duck whose ship had sunk a day or so from land. 

When night falls, Shuri returns to her island. 

She had been offered a home on the main island but insists on staying where she is. 

Being around so many people after being on her own for so long can be overwhelming at times. And besides, the island is the only place she can let her guard down, a place where she doesn't have to be careful what she says for fear of revealing too much. 

Namor keeps his word and does not drag her back to Talokan, but that does not mean he has left her life completely. 

He is always there in some form.

There is no escaping his name in the main island; not a day goes by without someone whispering his name in fear, yelling it in rage, or whimpering it through tears.

Her work each day is dedicated to repairing the damage that he has wrought, the problems he has created.

When new survivors arrive, Shuri hears them regale their sorrowful tales through tears as she treats their ailments. 

Her dreams do not let her forget his image, reminding her each night of his touch both powerful and gentle, the heat in his gaze, the huskiness in his voice, and the promises he made for their future.

When she swims within the ocean or stares at the cloudy skies, sometimes she catches glimmers of golden scales and brightly coloured feathers, gone the moment she turns to look. When she sets sail on missions to recover resources or survivors, she often thinks she spots a dark-haired individual in the water, gone between one wave and the next.

Every year on her birthday, he leaves her gifts wrapped in the finest of cloth and tied together with strings of pearls. Inside is never the lavish gifts from before, but instead more practical items she cannot help but appreciate.

Stylish, modern civilian clothes that she had once loved to wear around the palace back in Wakanda, when she was not forced into ceremonial garbs and finery. Decorative bottles containing hair care balms and remedies. Silk bonnets. Seeds and saplings of fruit-baring plants. Beautiful blankets and quilts of Wakandan style. Blank sketchbooks, paint brushes and pots of paint of every colour. 

Shuri doesn't toss the gifts aside as she once would have. She is too tired for that and the items he provides are rare to find and useful. 

It feels good to wear well-made clothes that fit her fashion sense, not the scavenged, ill-fitting clothes she had been forced to wear. It improves her mood, adding a skip to her step and giving her more confidence when interacting with the people back on the main island. 

The hair products she puts to good use, finally giving her hair the tender love and care it deserves after years of being unable to give it the proper treatment. She braids it properly, surprised by how long it has gotten over the years, falling just above her hips. 

The seeds and saplings she takes back to the main island, allowing the farmers and gardeners to start growing fruit, vegetable and plants that they had been without, ever since Namor's flood destroyed international trade. 

Every night, Shuri draws images of Wakanda, her mother and her brother within the pages of the sketchbooks. Sometimes, even Namor finds his way onto the pages. She always rips those pages out but cannot bring herself to destroy them. Instead, they accumulate in a discarded pile under her bed.

Life is not easy, but it is easier than it was before. 

There is no race against the clock. The urgency of before is gone, the nightmare she dreaded having occurred.

Namor is no longer hunting her and patiently waits for the day she will come to him - something Shuri wants to deny will happen, but she has been wrong about so much that she can longer say anything for certain when it comes to Namor. She trusts that he will keep his word. That he will truly let her decide. She does think he will eventually come and try to convince her, should he lose his patience, but she is quite certain he won't kidnap her. 

Shuri's main source of anxiety comes from the fear that the survivors of the islands will discover who she is. If that day comes, she will have nowhere else to go but to Wakanda or Talokan - if she can escape their wrath.

And should they manage to do something to her... she doesn't want to think about what Namor would do to them.

Chapter Text

It's almost like an unspoken game.

Waiting to see who will be the first to break; who will seek out the other first. 

It takes fifteen years, but Namor is the first to crack.

Shuri stands in her cove, the waves lapping at her feet. After a swim in the ocean, she had stopped to admire the setting sun that had set the cove ablaze in pinkish and red hues. When the first drops of rain had speckled her skin, she had thought nothing of it. But then the wind had shifted in direction and something in the air hummed like static electricity and Shuri had known. 

The Feathered Serpent God was coming. 

Before the entrance of the cove, in the narrow passageway that led to the ocean, Namor bursts from the water in his serpent form. Glittering golden scales. Vibrant feathers that were somehow impossibly dry. Rivers of water cascading down the curves of his body. Even from this distance, he was a sight to behold, dominating the landscape with his strange beauty. 

Namor comes no closer, simply watching her from across the cove.

He has come all this way to see her, but even now, he is still waiting for her permission.

Shuri doesn't move, her toes digging into the sand to keep her grounded. A decade and a half since they last met in person, and it has not lessened the storm of emotions that he invokes in her. The hatred, the fury, the regret, and the love that she wishes had never been. Shuri has long but accepted that these feelings would not fade; no attempts at suppressing them had ever worked, no amount of distance or absence either. He was woven into the very fabric of her soul. A craving her traitorous heart never ceased to yearn for. 

That didn't mean she had to accept him. 

It didn't mean she would let him get the last of his desires. 

I don't need you, she thinks determinedly, I have survived this long without you. I can survive longer. 

She has carved a life within Yucatán, finding a semblance of peace in the turmoil that is her world - a peace that she has played her role in providing. It may not be the life that she had imagined, and she may not have those that she misses and longs for, but she treasures the life she has built here. 

Shuri leaves the waters and returns to the jungle.

It takes everything she has not to look back. 

Revenge is blinding. 

That is a lesson Shuri learned the hard way. She would never fault anyone for wanting it, but experience had taught her the dangers of seeking it.

Hers had almost come at the cost of her nation. 

And now, as she sits with her fellow scientists in the boardroom, she can see that the cost of vengeance against a God is the same no matter who seeks it. 

No less than an ocean of blood. 

Once a month, the Yucatán research facility holds a board meeting with the lead scientists of each department. It is here that they put forward proposals for new projects; why it would be beneficial to the islands, what resources they would require, and whatever commitment it would need. With the sacristy of materials, space, energy and workers, every project had to be scrutinised diligently. Once the twelve board members voted on the projects, the lead researcher would take them to The Council for consideration. 

Shuri had never liked politics, but over the years she had learned that if she wanted her ideas and inventions to see the light of day, then she had to play the political game or get nothing. She supposes it had always been like this, even before The Great Flood, but as Princess of Wakanda her parents and later T'Challa had always made sure she had free reign when it came to her work. 

Now she only had herself to rely on. She had gotten good at it over the years, but even with that practice, all her experience, and the sage advice her mother had once given her, it was taking her an unbearable amount of restraint not to launch herself across the table and strangle the man who had just spewed the most insane, stupid idea she had ever heard - and she had heard many stupid ideas over the years.  

"This is madness," Shuri says bluntly. 

"This is survival!" Mason snaps, slamming his hands on the desk. Shuri rolls her eyes at his theatrics. "We are sitting ducks. Fish in a barrel waiting for a bullet. We need precautions to protect ourselves, as we should have done from the start!"

Mason was the picture-perfect image of a mad scientist; a white man with a balding head and grey hair, spectacles perched upon his nose, always wearing his long white-lab coat open to reveal a freshly pressed shirt and tie. He never smiled. Spoke with an air of condensation, thinking himself the smartest in the room and everyone else inferior. There was barely a soul who liked him, the younger ones dubbing him Dr Creeps, Snooty McSnoot, The Terrible Tinkerer or Dr Evils. 

Shuri had had many conflicts with him over the years, and today was no different. 

"Redirecting precious resources to fortify our coastlines and building weapons will not be seen as defensive precautions. It will be viewed as an act of aggression," Shuri replies back calmy. "Don't try and insult us by masking this as a defensive measure."

It was no secret that Mason wanted action taken against The Talokanil. It was a desire shared by most, but everyone knew that it was an impossibility.

Yucatán was still recovering from the damages wrought by the war, still learning to adapt to this new world of isolation. They had no military now. No defences. No weapons of war. All resources were put into rebuilding their society and making it as comfortable as possible for the survivors; creating safe homes, providing enough food and clean water, building needed establishments like hospitals and schools, and preserving as much of Earth cultures and languages as they could. 

The war was over.

Revenge was not within their capabilities. 

"The weapons are too extreme," the timid voice of Abi whispers. 

Abi was the head of The Chemist Department, a woman in her late forties, native to Mérida. She was quiet and coquettish, always hiding behind her waves of dark hair that she liked to fidget with. 

"They have not attacked us. They've left us be all these years. If we suddenly start building weapons, what other conclusion could they come to but we are prepping for an assault?" Abi continues. "Though I am not necessarily against the seawall fortifications. It could provide a sense of security for everyone."

"They didn't do us any good last time," Shuri points out. 

"I am in agreement with Onika on this. Even a seawall could be perceived unfavourably and they did not stop the rising waters during the war, only delayed. I am sorry, but we do not have the resources available for what is essentially a comfort blanket," Bambe says, not unkindly. 

Bembe is the Head of the Research Facility in its entirety. He was a man in his late sixties with a face full of wrinkles, his grey hair tied in an intricate braid. He spoke softly, never raising his voice, and acted as the peace-maker when things got heated within the facility - a common occurrence, as scientists fought with each other over whose projects should be prioritised. 

"The biggest threats that we're facing right now are unreliable energy sources and food shortages. That is where we should be focusing our efforts. That is how we can better help everyone," Shuri adds. "Not provoking an unbeatable force. They will leave us be provided we don't give them a reason not to."

This wasn't the first time Mason had suggested fortifications, but it was the first he had been bold enough to not only suggest building weapons but also having brought blueprints for their construction. There were dozens, each design more gruesome than the next, detailed on the glowing green holograms in the centre of the room. Seeing them had made the scientists in the room nervous, most seeing the dangers in even musing about such things. 

Mason scoffs. "What reason did they have for flooding the world in the first place? We didn't even know they were there! How long till grow tired of us and drown us all like they did the rest of the world?

"I can understand your fear, Mason," Shuri replies. "We all do. But if we let that fear control us, we will paint a target on our backs."

There are several murmurs of agreement.

"It does seem unwise to make weapons when we know they are ill-effective against the enemy, especially if it could be viewed a provocation," Hadwin - the Head of the Agricultural Science Department - says. "The world united against them. They had armies, weapons, superpowered freaks, limitless resources and millions of people ready to fight. It wasn't enough. We... are nowhere near any of those nations' levels of power. If they choose to attack we're going to get killed. We should keep our heads down. Even Wakanda, the most powerful nation in the world, could not defeat them."

"Only if you believe they were ever enemies to begin with," Derrick quipped. 

Shuri glares at him from the corner of her eye. Derrick was one of the scientists from the Computing Department and was never shy about sharing his conspiracy theories, particularly those relating to Wakanda. He was a boorish man, quick to anger and one Shuri tended to avoid. 

"And this is exactly my point! The strongest nations in the world perished and you think it is wise that we sit here and do nothing?" Mason yells. 

Several people winced at how Mason spoke of the Talokanil. 

"Doing nothing to provoke them is what has kept us alive," Abi mutters. "We're safe as long as we-"

"We're so safe that almost everyone in this room is scared to even say their names. As if they're boogeymen about to snatch you from bed and drag you to hell. Anyone mutters a curse about those monsters and they're ostracised like they have the plague!"

"This argument is going in circles," Shuri mutters, "I say we just move to the vote."

"I am not finished!" Mason snaps.

"No, that would be too kind of you," Shuri quips dryly. 

Mason scowls at her. "All of these measures that I have proposed are simple precautions for potential smaller-scale attacks from survivors."

"Survivors of what?" Shuri asks, frowning. 

"This," Mason holds up a vial of luminescent golden liquid. "Serum Medea. My very own creation, crafted after years of research. It is a highly toxic substance lethal to only one species on Earth; the Talokanil. Once it comes in contact with them, it seeps into their skin and prevents them from absorbing oxygen through osmosis and causes their gills to swell, suffocating them in the water within minutes."

Shuri looks at the innocent-looking liquid with disgust.

There were several whispers around the rooms. Abi gasps. Bembe leans forward, fixing his glasses as he observes the elixir. Derrick looks curious, a shrewd glint in his eyes. 

"How can you be so sure that it works," Shuri asks, her suspicious gaze falling on Mason. 

"Before the war ended, I had the opportunity to study the Talokanil up close. We were able to study their physiology and run various studies into potential vulnerabilities."

Shuri narrows her eyes. "You mean you experimented on them."

There were a few horrified gasps, followed by some heated whispers. One or two looked intrigued. Other's kept their faces carefully neutral. 

"It was war and we were doing what had to be done. And thanks to my and many others' dedication, we have found Earth's salvation," Mason says, his voice proud. 

The holograms change to video footage of six different Taloknail. It is an unsettling, disturbing sight. Taloknail warriors stripped of their armour and jewels, trapped inside claustrophobic water tank tubes; some are beating their fists off the glass, gasping for air; one clutches at their throat, fingers digging into her gills, her face contorted in pain; others float lifelessly to the top of the tank, their limbs drooping, faces obscured behind their hair. 

Shuri closes her eyes, her fingers digging into the table. She feels sickened by the footage, her chest burning with fury at the insidiousness of it. 

"As you can see, the serum is highly effective," Mason says, turning off the footage at the behest of Bembe, who scolds Mason for his recklessness in showing such footage without prior warning. 

Shuri cannot help but think of Cualli, the little Taloknail child whom she saved from such a fate. Her arms and legs covered in scars and injection marks. The fear in her eyes as she cowered in the corner of the water tank. Shuri looks at Mason with hatred in her eyes, wondering if he was one of the scientists involved in the little girl's torture.

Had he himself injected foreign, untested chemicals into her skin to see what would hurt or kill her? Had he watched behind a screen with a clipboard in hand, clinically indifferent as he takes notes as she suffered? 

"Have you had that poison this entire time?" Shuri bites out. "You realise if the Talokanil finds out we have something like that, they could decide to go nuclear and flood the island to get rid of it and anyone who knows how to create it."

"They are not going to find out about it," Mason replies. "Not until it is too late. So long as everyone in this room has the sense to remember who it was that took our loved ones from us, who destroyed our beloved countries! Talokan deserves to suffer for what they have done. Let us not pretend we haven't all wanted that. And if not for revenge, then for the safety of what we have built now. The children we have brought into this world, who are innocent of the suffering we have gone through. Should we sit idly by until the King of Talokan decides to drown us too and make them suffer the same fate? I think not."

"What is your plan for it exactly?" Derrick asks curiously.

"I propose we release the serum in mass quantities over Talokan and around the surrounding waters of the Yucatán Islands. It'll extinguish them promptly and any that survive, we can deal with accordingly with the defences precautions I have designed," Mason explains. 

Shuri looks around the room at the contemplative expressions on some of the scientist's faces; not many, but enough to make her uneasy. They were mad if they thought such a plan was possible. 

It seems she is not alone in the thought, as Hadwin points out, "We don't have the resources to produce something like that in large enough quantities. Not to mention the environmental impact that would have on the ocean. We rely heavily on the ocean for fish, I'd like to remind you."

"As I said, it's designed to kill Talokanil, no others. It shouldn't have a detrimental effect on the environment."

"Shouldn't doesn't sound like a definite to me," Abi mumbles.

"And not all of us want revenge," Hadwin adds. "This is unethical and as Onika has explained, dangerous to even discuss."

"Unethical?" Derrick scoffs. "They started this."

"We don't know where Talokan is," Abi counters. 

Mason smirks. "Not quite. Before The Resistance abandoned the Earth, they had figured out the location of Talokan. Unfortunately, they were too weak to do anything with the knowledge. The serum had not been perfected either."

"Killing them isn't going to bring anyone back," Shuri declares. "But it could lead to you dragging us all to an early grave."

"They deserve to die," Mason spits. 

"Not at the cost of our own lives!" 

"Listen here, you silly little girl-"

"Do not speak to me like that," Shuri snarls. 

"I am trying to save us!"

"You're plan is nonsensical at best and suicidal at worst."

"I wouldn't expect that brat like you to understand-"

"Enough!" Bambe interjects, banging his fist off the table several times. "There is no need to resort to name-calling. Let us vote. I think all the main points have been covered. All in favour of presenting The Council with Dr Mason's... plans."

Out of twelve present, four people raise their hands, including Mason. 

"All opposed?"

Eight people raise their hands. 

"Dr Mason, your proposal has been rejected," Bembe says firmly.

"Your all pathetic," Mason curses. His chair shrieks against the floor as he stands up. "We have the chance to set things right and you are squandering it!"

Without another word, Mason leaves, slamming the door behind him. 

"Mason needs to be kicked out of the research facility immediately!"

"Onika, Mason is entitled to share his ideas, as is everyone else," Bemba stresses, though it is clear he is not happy about that.

"His ideas are going to get everyone killed!" Shuri hisses. "He is looking for revenge and if Talokan discovers what he has been planning-"

"Everyone in that room was trustworthy. The walls are sound-proofed and thoroughly checked for bugs of any kind," Bemba assures her. With a sigh, he adds, "Though I understand your apprehension. That was not how I thought the evening would pan out."

Shuri paces the length of Bembe's office, her face contorted in anger.  

The meeting had unnerved her.

Life in Yucatán was far from perfect, but after years of struggles and hardships, the survivors had managed to make a safe haven. There was a new generation of children, free from the memories of Earth's turbulent struggles the past few decades; they hadn't lived through alien invasions, The Snap, The Great Flood or any megalomaniac's attempts to take over the world who wreaked mayhem as they went.

The only life they knew was here on these islands, working together to keep each other safe.

And now it was at risk.

Everything they had built here. Everything they had left to cherish. 

Namor may have left them be, but he would not be foolish to leave them unsupervised. Undetected but ever present, Wakandan spies flitted among them and the Talokanil listened from the waters. Even after all these years of no contact, Yucatán could not let its guard down. If plans of aggression - no matter how improbable or ludicrous - find their way to The King of Talokan's ears, it might be reason enough for him to finish what he had started. 

"Even if they found out about Mason's ramblings, they would know we are not capable of it."

"But it wasn't just ramblings. He had a poison that can kill them. It needs to be confiscated and destroyed." 

Bembe nods in agreement. 

"Why did he even suggest it? He knows we can't make that poison in the needed quantities and he knows the risks of speaking like that out in the open." Shuri's expression turns thoughtful. "And to reveal that he tortured Talokanil warriors... what made him so bold to admit something so vile?"

He had needed them to believe in the serum, that was for certain. And what better way to convince a room of scientists than multiple physical evidence? But even if it had been approved and gone to The Council, what then? They couldn't carry it out. It didn't make sense. She was missing something. 

Bembe looks torn. "I agree that such methods are callous, but it was a war, Onika. He was trying to find an effective way to defeat them."

"He went too far," Shuri snaps, disgusted. "Experimenting on people like that. Treating them like rat labs-"

"Everyone had to make difficult decisions. You would have been quite young when the war took place, you couldn't understand-"

"I was in my twenties. I understand perfectly."

Many within the research facility mistook her for being much younger than she was. It was aggravating at the best of times, worse still when the person treating her like a child was younger than her!

But she had been old enough to remember what the Earth had suffered through. She had been forced to make difficult decisions that she had never wanted to make, decisions that haunted her even now. Unlike everyone else on these islands, her choices had been done as a Queen and Princess, a leader of a nation, and those choices had affected millions. 

"Forgive me, you look much younger," Bemebe mumbles apologetically. 

"Whether you believe it or not, Talokan went to war with Wakanda over the death of two handmaidens. If they find out that we are harbouring a man who conducted cruel experiments on them, who still carries a poison designed to kill them, they will not show mercy," Shuri explains. 

She needs to get the severity of the situation through to Bembe. How much risk Mason is putting them in?

"What do you suggest?" 

"Not giving him a platform to speak. Stripping him of his status and usage of the laboratory resources or at the very least monitoring his activities so he doesn't produce more of the poison." Shuri pauses a moment, knowing Bambe will not like what she is about to say. "And if the Talokanil come for him, we let them have him."

"Onika!" Bembe cries. "We can't just sacrifice someone like that. I know you have your differences with Mason, but this-"

"Is necessary. This isn't about my dislike, this is about doing what needs to be done. I don't want to sacrifice anyone, but if it comes to one man for all of Yucatán, then so be it."

"I think that's enough of this conversation," Bembe says sternly. 

"You were willing to defend Mason for experimenting on Talokanil, yet the idea of sacrificing him is too far?"

Shuri scoffs and leaves. 

Shuri returns to her island, more riled up than she has been in a long time.

Mason had either lost it or something else was afoot. She may not like the man, and as stupid as his plan was, Shuri knew he wasn't a complete fool. As Beembe had said, Yucatán did not have the resources required to pull off such an elaborate scheme to destroy the Talokanil; and this was something Mason knew all too well.

Why risk suggesting it then? And why now?

It was questions that left Shuri feeling uneasy.

More pressing though, was Mason's history.

He had conducted brutal experiments on Talokanil. Shuri had known such things had happened and knew that it wasn't just warriors captured in battle that were victims of those particular cruelties. Little Cualli had been but a child - a harmless, defenceless child - and her tormenters had not held back on her. If Namor found out that the experimenters were still alive, that he was staying on Yucatán and plotting ways to make the Talokanil suffer, then Namor would retaliate. 

The poison was a game-changer, something that made Mason a very dangerous man to be around. 

It was the first time in years that Shuri felt that dispairing fear that has tortured her every day that she had fought in the war against Namor. Yucatán had been safe these past fifteen years, but if it presented any kind of threat - sentimentality or not - Namor would need to act. 

It could be avoided, Shuri thinks, if they just get rid of Mason and his poison. 

It isn't a thought Shuri is proud of. It isn't something she wants to do. But she knows the might of the forces they are dealing with and knows it's fruitless to try and stop them. The survivors have been through enough. They do not deserve to be killed for one vicious man's life. 

Another of Namor's lessons, one she wishes she hadn't come to agree with. 

First thing in the morning, Shuri would start an investigation into Mason, to see if she could find out what else he was up to. 

When Shuri arrives at her old base camp on her little island, she instantly feels that something is... off.

There are no signs of intruders. Griot's quick analysis of the forcefield that surrounds her base camp shows no signs of tampering or fluctuations. There are also no physical signs of anything being amiss or disturbed in the campgrounds. Yet Shuri cannot shake the feeling that someone - or something - has been here.

Once she steps across the forcefield the ramp of the ship that Bucky had given her activates. It lowers down with a mechanical hum, granting her access. Shuri pauses halfway up the ramp. 

There is a fragrance in the air, faint but familiar. It smells like jasmine and something else she can't quite pinpoint. It lingers in the air like perfume. There is something else too, something salty and pleasant. 

Shuri frowns, eyes scanning the inside of the ship. Quietly, she unclips her extendable staff and moves forward.

It has been a long time since she last fought; Shuri was quickly beginning to regret not keeping up with her practice. Okoye would have scolded her for such negligence-

A vibranium blade cuts through the darkness, aiming directly for Shuri's head. 

With a cry, Shuri activates her staff and blocks the blow at the last second. Metal grinds against metal and the blades are unlocked. Shuri stumbles to block the barrage of swings and jabs the attacker makes, their blade glinting in the dark. Finally, a foot kicks Shuri's legs out from under her, and she crashes into the metal flood in an undignified sprawl.

A blade is pointed at her neck. 

Someone tuts.

"I am disappointed, Princess. You have gotten sloppy."

Shuri's eyes widen, a grin breaking out on her face. 

"Okoye?" 

The lights on the ship stutter on and there stands Okoye, smiling down at her.  

Shuri's smile wavers when she notices that Okoye is not alone. Lounging on the captain's seat was the Talokanil warrior, Attuma. 

"Hello, Princess of Wakanda," Attuma waves his fingers. 

Shuri watches Attuma warily from across the fire. He is sitting on a log, squishing a marshmallow between his fingers and observing it with a tilt of his head. He shrugs and then pierces it on a stick before holding it close to the fire. 

"Why is he here?" Shuri whispers to Okoye, who is sitting beside her on their own log. 

"That is a long story," Okoye mutters. "Do not worry. He is trustworthy."

Shuri wants to remind Okoye that Attuma is Namor's right-hand man, the General of his army, and his lifelong confidant. Anything that they say he will be duty bound to tell Namor, for how can one be expected to keep secrets from his God, King and friend? 

Okoye must see the argument on her lips and adds, "You do not have to trust him. I ask only that you trust me when I say he will not betray me. He has more than earned that these past years."

Shuri glances at Attuma across the fire. She wants to ask what exactly their relationship was. Friendship, allies, or something else? What could have happened while she has been away from Wakanda, that could lead to two such unlikely people forging a bond of trust? Whatever they are to each other, it must be strong for Attuma to be willing to keep secrets from Namor. 

"Fine," Shuri sighs, though she is not comfortable about this in the slightest. 

Neither says anything for a while, the silence filled with years of words unspoken. Shuri had always wondered if she would ever see Okoye again, and now that she was here, she wasn't sure what to say or where to begin. 

"I'm sorry," Shuri finally settles on, her voice small. 

"What reason do you have to be sorry?" Okoye asks, sounding surprised.

"For running away to try and save the world. For not listening to you and the others when you told me how dangerous it was, not just for myself but also for Wakanda. For not finding a way to speak to you all these years." Shuri swallows hard, letting out a quivering breath. "You can shout at me. Call me any name you want." 

"I shouted at you plenty of times over your insane plans to go against Namor, but understand it was not because I thought you were being foolish. I didn't want anything to happen to you," Okoye says. "And you did try many times to speak to me over the years; I saw my beads light up with your name, but Namor made the punishment for contacting you clear." Shuri can only imagine what kind of colourful threat Namor made to keep her friends obedient. "Our lack of contact is just as much my doing as it was yours."

"I could have found a way around it."

"I would have ignored it. It would have been too risky," Okoye admits honestly. "Things have... changed, since we last saw each other. There was someone relying on me. Someone I had to protect."

"W'Kabi?"

Okoye shakes her head. "W'Kabi is still imprisoned on Namor's order. All involved in Killmonger's uprising are."

Shuri nods. Everyone involved in that incident had proven they were willing to risk everything to overthrow the monarchy. Namor would consider them a risk better dealt with preemptively. 

"Why now then?" Shuri asks curiously. "Why risk Namor's wrath?"

"Things in Wakanda have gone critical. Since the alliance, there have been growing tensions between Wakanda and Talokan. No one is happy with the arrangement; they do not trust that Talokan will not turn on them, they are resentful for the pain they had to suffer, and for having to stain their hands with our involvement in the war." 

Okoye stares at the fire as she speaks, her hands clenched into fists on her lap. 

"Most tolerate it with gritted teeth. They know this alliance was the only way for us to survive, that had we not joined forces we too would have been devoured by the ocean. Others... were afraid that such a day will still come. They felt that Talokan should be punished for what it has done. That we needed to take a stand to protect ourselves."

There were similar tensions in Yucatán. Whenever it rained, people held their breath and said a prayer to their deities, terrified that this was it, that the rain that flooded the world had finally come for them. There was hatred in their hearts for the oceans, many people couldn't even bring themselves to look at it let alone step in it. It was this fear and hatred that drove Mason to conjure up his diabolic, ludicrous scheme; one that tempted the others, as foolish as it was. 

Before she had left Wakanda, Shuri had known that the people of Wakanda had accepted the alliance begrudgingly. That it was not what they wanted. That it was agreed upon under extreme duress. But she had thought that they had known that it was the only means for them to survive. 

But even I couldn't accept it, Shuri admits to herself. I agreed to the treaty and then ran off to try and stop Namor. Is it surprising others feel so strongly about this too?

"What happened?" Shuri asks, afraid to hear the answer.

Unlike Mason, there was plenty of damage Wakanda could do too, even if it wasn't strong enough to defeat them. 

"They tried to rebel against Talokan. Namor was forced to intervene." 

"Intervene how?" Shuri demands to know, dread clutching her heart in a vice-like grip. "Has he washed Wakanda away too?"

"Not yet," Okoye says grimly. "We do not know what he plans to do. There were several battles with heavy losses on both sides, but Namor won. He captured the leaders of the rebellion and sentenced them to be executed. The Elders who tried to prevent it are still in positions of power, but his cousin Namora is the defacto ruler for now."

"What about the King? Where is M'Baku?"

M'Baku was no fool. He was one of the first to realize how suicidal it was to go up against the Talokanil. After she had left, he had been the most vocal in his protests of her trying to stop Namor. He wouldn't have allowed this rebellion to happen, not willing. 

Okoye closes her eyes, her voice strained.

"King M'Baku is dead. He was slain at Warrior Falls."

Shuri's heart skips a beat.

She had not seen or heard from M'Baku since he had warned her of The Feathered Serpent chasing her across the oceans. They had not always seen eye to eye, but she had come to love and respect him as a dear friend and wise council.

Her heart aches for his loss. 

Shuri swallows hard, struggling to keep her composure. She can see it is difficult for Okoye as well, the pain burning brightly in her eyes.  

"Who killed him?" Shuri breathes. 

Okoye tries to speak, but her voice fails her. After several attempts, Attuma answers for her, "One of his names is Toussaint. He is the leader of this foolish rebellion. And now because of him and his followers, Wakanda is once again on the edge of Xibalba. K'uk'ulkan has not spoken to me or Namora about what he intends to do, but most of his council would prefer it if Wakanda was destroyed."  

"He can't," Shuri whispers. "He promised me an alliance. That Wakanda would be spared."

"And Wakanda has spat in the face of that alliance. Looked a God in the eye and defied him for their pride."

"It was not just pride," Okoye grits out, eyes snapping open to look at Attuma.

Shuri has the feeling that despite whatever friendly relationship they may have, this is an old argument, a sore spot between them.

"They are terrified. They lived through the rain and watched as the world drowned around them. And as if that was not bad enough, there were times when we had to assist in it! Desperate, terrified people do not always take the most rational route!"

"K'uk'ulkan gave them his word that they were safe."

"The word of the God who drowned the world, why ever did they not trust that?" Okoye rolls her eyes. 

"And now Talokan no longer trusts Wakanda's word," Attuma replies. "Neither does K'uk'ulkan. The alliance is crushed like a shell underfoot. There will be no fixing it. Something else must take its place if Wakanda is to have any hope of surviving."

Shuri stills under Attuma's shrewd gaze. She has a feeling that whatever that 'something else' was, had something to do with her. 

"And what is that?" Shuri asks. 

Shuri's nerves are quickly whittling away, hardly helped when Okoye jumps to her feet and begins pacing. Whatever this was, it was distressing to the former leader of the Dora. 

"This is ridiculous," Okoye snaps. "We have already tried this and your King rejected it many times; he caused a great deal of insult." 

"Wakanda just didn't suggest the right one," Attuma shrugs.

"What are you two talking about?" Shuri asks irritably. 

"Talokan no longer trusts Wakanda and most importantly, neither does K'uk'ulkan. Words have proven to mean nothing to either side. For both nations to be united, there must be a connection, a bond that runs deep." Attuma levels his gaze on Shuri. "A marriage alliance between Talokan and Wakanda."

There was no mistaking who Attuma was suggesting. 

"You can't ask this of me," Shuri gasps. 

"It would unite our nations. It would give Talokan and Wakanda the security and assurance they needed, more so if children are born of this union."

Shuri is on her feet, her hands clenched at her sides as she glares at Attuma. Furiously, she shouts, "Are you hearing yourself right now?"

"Or-" Okoye cuts in. "She could try and reason with Namor. It was you who convinced him to spare Wakanda the first time, Princess. Perhaps you can do so now?"

"Words are no longer enough," Attuma replies bluntly. "And even the Princess's sway over K'uk'ulkan is not infinite. His people will always come first. But if they are wed, her people become his people."

"You expect me to marry the man who killed members of my family?"

Shuri steps towards Attuma.

"The man who attacked my nation?"

She raises her chin in challenge, glaring up at him with all the fury that she can. Let him see the panther lurking below her skin, ready to rip him apart for his audacity. 

"Who flooded the world? Who has hurt me as no other has?" 

"Yes," Attuma says easily, not backing down from her stare. "You could not save your nation as The Black Panther, but you did save it as Shuri, Queen of Wakanda. You can save it again." He glances at Okoye, a private meaning passing between them. "And anyone else that you wanted."

Shuri wants to hold onto her anger, but she feels it slipping away. 

Attuma was not wrong, he was just the only one bold enough to say it. If Shuri married Namor, it would forge an alliance that would be respected by both nations. It would intricately entwine both thrones. It would once again put her in a position where she could begin to mend bridges between both nations. 

It would also prevent any further uprisings or rebellions, for if anyone challenged Shuri's rule and succeeded, it would destroy the alliance; Wakanda would have a vested interest in ensuring she and her descendants remained on the throne on the threat of annihilation.

Shuri thinks of Namor's mother's mural. Of the future she predicted. Of the path Shuri wanted to avoid, to punish Namor for all that he had done - even if it hurt herself in the process. 

Attuma must sense her resolve weakening, for his eyes softens. 

"It's time to stop running, Princess," Attuma says. "Wakanda and Talokan needs its Queen."

Shuri skims a pebble across the waters, disturbing the full moon's reflection. Not far from the beach, the wreckage of a ship lies on its side, bronzed with rust and ridden with holes. 

It doesn't take long for Shuri to hear the crunch of sand underfoot. Okoye halts a few feet away, a disquieting look on her face. 

"There is something else I have not told you," Okoye murmurs, her voice weighed down by an unseen burden. "Something your mother never got the chance to tell you."

"What?" Shuri asks when Okoye remains quiet. 

"The reason I risked Namor's wrath was not only for Wakanda's sake but for the chance to spare Toussaint from execution."

"The Rebellion Leader?" Shuri asks, confused. "Who is he to you?"

If he was allowed to challenge M'Baku to the throne, then he had to have royal blood. Was he a distant relative of Okoye?

"To me, he is a son, someone I have raised since he was seven years old. To you, he is your nephew. The son of T'Challa and Nakia."

Shuri goes rigid. She almost laughs, but there is nothing funny about this. With a scoff, she says, "My brother had no child."

"Nakia and T'Challa married in secret. Toussaint was born during the first few months of the snap."

"No. T'Challa would not hide something like that from me. He was my brother. My best friend. We trusted no one as much as we did each other. Why would he keep something like that from me?"

Shuri feels a franticness growing inside her. A need to deny and reject what Okoye is saying. 

"Nakia wanted him to be raised away from the pressures of the throne."

"If she wanted her child to be free of the throne then she shouldn't have married a King!"

"Shuri," Okoye's voice is pleading, desperate for her to understand, "your brother wanted it to. It wasn't lack of trust."

"It can be nothing but that!" Shuri cries.

Shuri looks away from Okoye.

All this time she thought all her family was dead, and now here was Okoye, telling her she had a nephew. T'Challa's son. A boy now fully grown whose life she had all but missed. 

And now he was going to die. 

Die by Namor's hand. 

"And where is Nakia?"

Okoye hesitates, her voice breaking. "Nakia passed away from an illness when Toussaint was seven."

Shuri breaths in sharply, her heart jolting painfully. It was a double strike; the death of one she considered a sister and the knowledge that she - and T'Challa - had hidden something so important from her. 

The both of you hid something like this from me? Shuri thinks, nails biting her palms. Did you trust me so little? 

Shuri rubs the tears from her eyes with an angry swipe. 

"After she died, I with Attuma's help have been raising Toussaint, keeping his identity hidden from Namor and Wakanda," Okoye explains. "But he is an adult now and can make his own decisions. He is much like his father. His aunt. Stubborn and just and good."

"And now he is going to die."

There is rage in her voice, but not at Okoye. It is directed at the dead, those that have left her behind with nothing but the bitter truth that she wasn't good enough for them. That she wasn't worthy of this truth.  

You got married without me there, brother. 

You had a child without telling me. 

Was our bond not as strong as I thought? Did you think so little of me? Did you not think I would protect him and love him? 

"Shuri-"

"I will do what I must to keep Wakanda safe," Shuri cuts Okoye off sharply. "And I will try and save Toussaint." 

"Shuri-" 

"Please Okoye," Shuri pleads, her voice breaking. "Leave me be. I need to be alone." 

Okoye hesitates but leaves Shuri alone on the beach.

Shuri thinks of her brother, of Nakia, of her mother, of the secret they kept from her. 

She wishes she had never found out. It was a new pain, another wound, knowing her loved ones had not trusted her. 

It is in the cove where Shuri parted ways with Namor, that she draws the conch shell to her lips once more. She wades into the water till it reaches her knees, then settles the shell below the waters, upon the sand. 

She has a feeling she will not have to wait long. 

As she waits, her eyes stray to the boulder half-submerged in the water. It may have been years ago, but Shuri still remembers all too well the heated moment shared between her and Namor - a moment she has replayed countless times as her fingers brought her pleasure. How Namor had pressed her against it and looked at her with a wicked gleam in his eyes before slowly dropping to his knees. How his tongue had descended upon her and lavished her with reverent abandonment.

It sends a needy ache down her stomach and lower, making her shift uncomfortably. It wasn't fair that even after all these years, without even being here, he could inspire such want in her. 

When Namor finally arrives, there is no rain or winds to announce his arrival. He simply emerges from the ocean, stopping a respectable distance from her.

The sight of him makes her heartache. 

He isn't dressed as casually as he had been when they last spoke. He wears his armour; vibranium leg and arm guards, his intricately decorated jade chest piece, and his golden shells and pearls necklaces. He is ready for a fight should it come. 

The Feathered Serpent God inclines his head respectfully. 

"Princess," Namor says softly as he runs a hand through his wet hair, smoothing it back. 

He takes a moment to appreciate the sight of her, taking in what has changed over the years. Truthfully, very little has. She has kept her hair long and braided, half-tied up while the rest falls over her shoulders and behind her back. She wears a cropped black hoodie, shorts and sneakers; simple and comfortable. 

"You have kept me waiting a long time," Namor continues, the fondness in his eyes begins to cloud with something else, something strained, "though perhaps it will be longer still."

She can tell from the look on his face that he knows why she has summoned him. That it isn't for the reason he wants - not exactly. 

"Ask," Namor demands, his face hardening. 

"How long did you know?" Shuri asks calmly, her eyes meeting his. "About my nephew." 

"I have known only as long as the rest of Wakanda." His voice is soft and conversational, but then it drops to a dangerous hiss, the venom of a snake seeping into his words. "When he declared it as he tried to plunge our nations into war."

"Were you ever going to tell me?" 

"It was not my place too. You wished for us to be nothing but distant enemies and I have obliged, waiting for your mind to change."

"Fair," Shuri concedes, "but those whose place it was to tell me could not under your order."

"You have found peace here. I did not want to bring you more pain."

"When you execute him, you mean?" Shuri reads between the lines. She cannot stop herself from saying, "Do you enjoy killing my family?"

"Your nephew," Namor spits, taking a step forward, his eyes darkening, "plotted to destroy Talokan. Hundreds of my children are dead, severely injured or dying because of him and his poison." 

"Poison?" Shuri blinks, startled. 

"It suffocates them by making them unable to breathe within the waters. It is a quick but painful death," Namor growls. 

Shuri takes a step back, caught off guard by that information. She thinks of the board meeting in the research facility, of Mason's devious scheme.

If the poison that Namor spoke of was the same poison that had hurt his people, then that meant Mason had been in contact with Wakanda. Suddenly, his scheme didn't seem quite as impossible, not with Wakanda's help and resources. 

"If you are here to plead on his behalf, spare yourself," Namor snarls. "I will not bend for one whose hands are tainted with my people's blood."

Namor turns on his heels and heads towards the ocean. 

Shuri darts forward, grabbing him by the wrist. He stills, eyes falling to her tiny hand, hardly able to fully encircle his wrist. His eyes meet hers questioningly. 

"Toussaint is not the only reason I summoned you," Shuri whispers. "I am here for Wakanda. They should not need to perish for the actions of a few."

"It was more than a few, Princess. Your nephew was able to rally thousands to his side, just as you had when you tried to defeat me at sea. This was a full-scale rebellion. Wakanda cannot be trusted to keep its word. I tried for your sake, as well as my people, but now I no longer think the risk is worth it."

"That is my fault. I am the one who agreed to the alliance, yet I did nothing to assure my people. I should have done whatever I could to convince them that this was what was right for Wakanda's future, but I didn't. They are afraid and angry and desperate." Shuri's eyes are bright with determination. "I want to fix this. Give me that chance too. I have seen enough bloodshed to last me a thousand lifetimes." 

"And how do you propose to do that?" Namor asks, tilting his head. 

"I would work to build bridges between our people, but first I would strengthen our alliance." Shuri takes in a deep breath and says, "I am going to ask the remaining Wakandan Elders to propose a martial alliance with Talokan. It will be stronger than any word or treaty signed in ink."

Namor's jaw clenches, his eyes intense as they stare at her. "I see. So tell me, which daughter of Wakanda do you intend to put before me? I have rejected them all."

"Will you reject me too?" Shuri asks, lifting her chin in challenge. 

Namor closes his eyes for a moment. When they open, they are looking out to the sea, not at her.

"Is this another way for you to punish me? I have longed for the day when such a union could exist between us; I have longed for such a thing for centuries. I wanted it to be for love, not politics or duty. One thing for myself and no one else. You deny me that, even as you offer me it."

He laughs, but it is a bitter, joyless thing. 

Shuri hates how her heart aches at his words. 

Shuri wonders if he truly thought she would one day cave and seek him out, that it would be for the love in her heart that drove her and not the duty and responsibility of her crown. She had lasted this long without him, she could live out the rest of her life without him too. She could ignore the ache, no matter how painful it could be. 

When Namor looks at her, his emotion were hidden behind a pleasant smile. Tightly, he says, "I will think about it."

Shuri blink, taken aback. That had not been the answer she was expecting. "What?"

Namor seems amused. "A martial alliance would be beneficial, but perhaps I wish to reconsider the other options."

Other options? Shuri narrows her eyes, a flash of possessiveness burning inside her. She tries to ignore it. She knows he is trying to rile her up. 

And it was working. 

"I will return to you once I have thought it through," Namor says with a smirk. 

"Namor-"

He doesn't listen, instead takes to the skies on fluttering wings and then dives into the ocean. Shuri screams his name in frustration, kicks the water then returns to land. 

Stubborn, egotistical, snake, she seethes. 

Attuma finds her in the camp base, sitting by the fire. 

"He will agree."

"How do you know that?" Shuri asks. 

She won't lie; she is worried. If anyone had told her a week ago that she would be contemplating seriously marrying Namor - not a harmless fantasy or escape - but seriously considering it and also worrying about him rejecting her, she would have laughed herself unconscious. 

"He is toying with you," Attuma replies, taking a seat on the log across from her. "For the past fifteen years, he has been sulking like a love-sick cichlid fish. This is his way of making you squirm like a fish on a hook."

Cichlids were a monogamous species of fish that were known to get depressed when separated from their mates. Shuri almost snorts at the thought of Namor brooding on his throne, holding a conch shell, waiting for her call. Clearly, things hadn't gone the way he had imagined, seeing his reaction.

"Petty fish," Shuri mutters.

"When you are wed I am sure you will find many ways to make him suffer in return," Attuma grins. 

"That is not the kind of marriage that I wanted."

"It is not the kind of marriage you have to have." 

Chapter Text

"Are you sure that you want to do this?" 

"This is the fifth time you have asked me that, Okoye. It isn't about what I want, but what needs to be done."

Okoye bristles and resumes pacing.

Shuri stands by the viewscreen on the ship, watching the islands of Yucatán shrink into the distance.

She had always known that one day she would leave, that the escape that the islands of Yucatán provided was nothing more than a fleeting, comforting illusion. The mystery had been whether or not she would leave by force or by choice; by Namor's hands, Wakanda's or the people of Yucatán. 

Leaving to save Wakanda and her secret nephew from execution by marrying Namor was certainly not how she imagined it.

"I only wanted you to speak to Namor. To see if you could change his opinion as you have in the past; as no one else has. I didn't want you to give up the life you have built here," Okoye's voice is ridden with guilt as she speaks. "That is far too much to ask of anyone, least of all you after everything you have suffered."

"You are not forcing me to do this. I am choosing to do so."

"You are not!" Okoye snaps. "How is this a choice? If what Attuma says is true, that this marriage is the only chance of saving Wakanda... of saving Toussaint... then how is that a choice?"

It wasn't a choice, not truly. Perhaps if Shuri's heart was made of stone, if she didn't care for anyone but herself, it would have been. But Shuri is not that callous. She will not stand by and do nothing when there is something that she can do.

It was why Namor was so bitter about her asking him to marry her. He had wanted her to come of her own free will, but had it not been for The Wakandan Rebellion risking the alliance with Talokan and her nephew's safety, Shuri would still be on Yucatán and never would have summoned him. She had lasted this long; she could last the rest of her days without him... she was sure of it. 

"You deserve a marriage with someone who will make you happy. Who will cherish you. An equal in all things," Okoye shakes her head, face contorted in bitter anger. "Not him. He cannot give you any of that. He will make you suffer throughout this marriage."

Shuri doesn't want to defend Namor in any way, but she does not want her friend to worry for her, to be plagued with guilt and resentment towards herself. It is those emotions that have been Shuri's constant tormentors, gnawing away at her, leaching the happiness out of every day - that is not a fate that she wants for Okoye. 

"Namor will not weaponize this marriage to hurt me," Shuri assures her softly, closing her eyes. "He will show me the respect that any wife and Queen deserves."

"How can you be so sure? You hardly know him!"

"That is not quite true." Shuri can feel Okoye's inquiring look and sighs. Reluctantly, she admits, "I have encountered Namor since I left Wakanda. I know him well enough." I know him better than you, she thinks. "I know it won't give you much comfort, but he will not mistreat me in this marriage. I will be safe and cared for. That I can promise you."

Namor was capable of terrible things, but Shuri was certain he wouldn't be cruel to her for the sake of being cruel. He did not take joy in malicious actions, he just did what he thought was best for his people - whether that be right or wrong (terribly, terribly wrong). 

When it came to her, Shuri knew if given the chance Namor would be nothing but a doting and loving husband. Even as enemies, he took care of her in any way that he could. Leaving her useful gifts. The many occasions he had caught and cooked a meal for her. Promising her an entire wing-back in his palace with a laboratory, art studio and an oath that no one, not even himself - King and God as he was - would be allowed to enter. 

The only one who might utilise the marriage to make the other miserable was her, but the thought brings Shuri little pleasure. She doesn't want a broken marriage filled with nothing but malice, bickering, fighting and loathing. 

Attuma had told her that she doesn't have to have such a marriage.

Shuri isn't sure how true that is.

She wants happiness. She wants peace. And a part of her thinks Namor could give her that, if she let him. But then the other part of her fractured heart cries out in rage, refusing to forgive, refusing to let him have that last part of her.

She will never forgive him for what he has done. His sins would always be a blight between them, a tormenting ghost, an open wound that would never heal. No amount of happiness he brought her would exorcise those ghosts, it would always be salt poured on the wound when the high died down. When the smile would wane she would remember all that he had done and hate herself for finding comfort in his arms. 

(As she has so many times.)

Namor wanted to be a devoted lover, but it felt impossible to let him when his hands were red with so much blood.

"Attuma is tight-lipped when it comes to The King of Talokan, but he has hinted that there is a past between you and Namor. Sometimes I think... it is not quite how enemies should be."

Shuri remains silent. 

"You are not going to tell me anything about it, are you?" Okoye whispers.

"We are enemies," Shuri says. "But..."

She doesn't what else they are; had never known really. Namor had certainly offered suggestions (husband... lover), but Shuri had never wanted to put a name to it. It let her convince herself it was nothing more than moments of weakness. Sinful indulgences of could-have-beens. Little lies she told herself to keep her strong and away from temptation. A way to forget what she had confessed to him as he slept on the beach beside her. 

"I'm sorry, Okoye. I can't talk about this."

Not with you. 

Not with anyone.

She leaves Okoye by the viewscreen and retreats to the cockpit, taking a seat in the co-pilot chair.

Attuma is flying the ship and gives her a nod in acknowledgement. 

It isn't that she doesn't trust Okoye, but Shuri is scared of how Okoye would react if she found out the true nature of her relationship with Namor. Shuri cannot bare the thought of Okoye's reaction - disgust, shame, disappointment, anger, or all -  if she realised Namor's feelings were not unrequited. That somehow, she had let her guard down enough to allow a man into her heart who is capable of such atrocities.

Perhaps knowing Namor was in love with her would ease Okoye's concerns that he would hurt her, allowing her heart some ease.

Perhaps it would terrify her, as it had Shuri.

(As it still often did).

Okoye and Attuma leave Shuri in Okoye's house. 

Okoye was to go to the Wakandan Elders and announce Shuri's arrival as well as her intentions to wed Namor. With tensions so high, Okoye had thought it best that Shuri remains safely away from the palace until the turbulence of her return had settled.

Attuma had declared that he would go and converse with Namora and the Talokanil Generals who resided in Wakanda, who had remained behind along with some of the Talokanil army to prevent further uprisings. There was also a command that should Shuri return to Wakanda, she was to be immediately escorted to Talokan. Attuma had assured Shuri that it was a safety precaution implemented at the start of The Rebellion to keep her from harm. Until he spoke to Namora and a new command was issued, Attuma recommended that she stay hidden unless she wanted to be dragged to Talokan by Talokanil warriors.

Thus, Shuri was left on her own, hidden away in Okoye's home. 

Left alone with a box that Okoye had left for her.

A box filled with memories of Toussaint's youth. 

For hours, Shuri couldn't bring herself to touch it. She paced around the box, sat before it, sat away from it, hid it under the bed, and tried her best to ignore it by reading some of the books in Okoye's room. She felt silly avoiding the box; inside were precious memories of a child she had never gotten to know, the child of her brother and a woman she had considered a friend and sister.

But that was exactly the problem.

Toussaint was just a name. A faceless figure. She didn't know anything about him. If she saw those memories, the physical proof of his existence, then it would all become too real. The photographs and pieces of his childhood would be the confirmation that her family had not trusted her. 

That T'Challa had not trusted her.

Shuri curses under her breath and tosses aside the lid. One by one, she pulls out the contents within. 

A pile of classroom certificates with good grades. 

A tatty old black cat plushie with half its ear missing.

A child's drawing of a little boy and his parents; the father had cat ears and a tail, and the three of them were standing on a sandy beach with a squiggly sun above them. 

A golden ring sized for a child with the black panther insignia.

A little pair of blue socks with the name T'Challa inscribed on them. 

A golden medal for running. 

A silver medal for a science project.  

And last but not least, a photo album. 

Shuri takes the photo album and sits on the window seat, overlooking one of Wakanda's many rivers. The sun is warm against her skin, a small comfort as she opens the book.

Every photograph is like a punch to the gut. 

Nakia in a hospital bed with a baby bundled in her arms. Nakia standing over a crib, reaching down to stroke the babe's cheek, her lips opened in what must have been whispered words of love now lost to time. Nakia asleep on the bed with her baby lying on her chest.

The babe in a high seat at a dinner table, food flying through the air as the child giggles at his mischievous antics. A little boy covered head to toe in mud, grinning proudly as he holds up his feline plushie who was equally mud-ridden. The same child on a swing set at a park. Swimming in the ocean with some friends. Climbing a tree as Nakia watches on with her hands on her hips.

There are several more before she finds one with T'Challa. The little boy is about six years old and frozen mid-jump as he launches himself at T'Challa, who greets the boy with open arms. The same boy sitting beside T'Challa on the beach, idly chatting as the ocean laps at their feet. Nakia, T'Challa and the little boy laughing as they eat dinner together.

There are very few photographs of the boy and T'Challa. 

And after he is eight years old, there is none of him and Nakia.

There are hardly any photographs at all. 

With both his parents gone and the war with Talokan having commenced, Shuri supposes there weren't many opportunities for happy memories to be made. 

Toussaint is a child of tragedy.

Just like herself. 

When Attuma and Okoye return, it is with good news. 

The Elders have accepted Shuri's proposal and will suggest it officially to Namor when he returns to Wakanda. 

"It was not an easily accepted proposal," Okoye admits as she sets the dinner table. 

"No, but it was very amusing," Attuma grins cheekily. "Most exciting meeting I have been to in a long time."

Okoye rolls her eyes and swats Attuma's bare chest.

The reaction to Shuri simply being alive had been met with an uproar of surprise. Most had assumed she had been killed during the war, either by Namor, Taloknail warriors or having succumbed to the elements and lack of resources. 

When Okoye had told them of Shuri's proposal to marry The King Of Talokan to secure an alliance, all sound had fled the room. Okoye claims she had never seen The Elders so utterly gob-smacked. They had remained eerily still, jaws hanging open, no one daring to move let alone utter a sound. The painful, awkward silence had dragged on for a full-blown minute before chaos erupted. 

As it turns out, there were a variety of opinions to be had on the proposal. 

Okoye irritability explains how some of The Elders had thought that Namor would consider the proposal an insult. That offering The Feathered Serpent God the hand of Wakanda's runaway former Queen, the Princess who had abandoned her people to seek revenge, whose inventions and intellect had hindered the war, the Aunt of the child who had brought Talokan's wrath upon them once more, would lead to an outright declaration of war.

Shuri understood where they were coming from, but could not help but be a little insulted about that. 

One Elder had suggested that Shuri be punished for deserting them. 

A few had been horrified at the thought of her marrying The King of Talokan. Through indignant rage they had declared it an insult to the belated Queen Ramonda, that her murderer should not be granted the honour of marrying her daughter, one of the last descendants of The Golden Tribe, the only one left to secure their line now that Toussaint was to be executed. They had argued that Shuri was the only reason they had lived this long, as it was she who had secured the alliance in the first place. 

Many were agreeable to the notion regardless of her turbulent past with Namor, desperate for any solution to their current crisis. 

Uncomfortably, Okoye informs Shuri of another debate that had broken out within the throne room.

Discussions of Shuri's fertility.

Shuri had spat out her drink when she heard that, a look of utter horror on her face at the thought of The Elders talking about such an intimate and personal subject. 

Some of The Elders wanted to push for a marital alliance but did not believe Shuri to be the best choice due to her age. They argued that it would be difficult for her to conceive, and conceiving Namor's child should be the end goal to secure Wakanda's safety. They wanted the beginning of a legacy - a bloodline of Talokan and Wakanda - that would keep them safe and their interests protected, long after Shuri had passed to the ancestral plane. 

"That is mortifying!" Shuri shrieks, her cheeks heating. "How could you let them talk about that!?"

Attuma winces at the pitch of her voice. 

"You should know better that royalty does not get the luxury of such privacy," Okoye says grimly. "And you had to know that is a conversation that would come up. Wakanda needs an heir that is tied to The King of Talokan to keep the alliance strong. He will be less likely to attack a nation ruled by his child and descendants. If you do marry him, then expect a lot of pressure from Wakanda to have a child at the earliest convenience."

Shuri scowls at the meal before her, slicing into the strip of meat viciously. 

Attuma hums thoughtfully. "K'uk'ulkan had never had a child nor has he been married, but for many years the Councils have tried to persuade him to do so. There is no necessity for it, but many would like the outcome. I am afraid you will likely be pressured from all sides."

"Brillant," Shuri huffs. 

"You do not have to have children if you do not want to, Princess. Especially not-" Okoye looks at Attuma, stopping herself from saying anything unsavoury towards Namor in front of Attuma. "-With anyone you chose not to. It is your body and no one can dictate that of you."

"K'uk'ulkan will not force her to have children if she does not want to, Okoye," Attuma assures her a little indignantly.

"But others will try to!" 

And should I have a child, they would be expected to sacrifice themselves, Shuri thinks bitterly, just as I am. 

Shuri cannot help but think of the mural painted by Namor's mother. Of herself holding a babe tucked away in fabrics of gold. Of the little child she had seen in her dreams, taking her first steps towards her father. Would that child be nothing but a political pawn? A tool. A weapon. A means to an end. They didn't deserve that. The curse of not one crown but two; a throne upon the land and a throne within the sea. 

Shuri could understand why Nakia wanted to avoid such a fate for Toussaint, but unlike Nakia, Shuri wasn't getting the choice of who she could marry. Any child she had would be born into the shadow of two fearsome legacies and the daunting mantles they came with. 

The Feathered Serpent God and The Black Panther.

The King of Talokan and The Queen of Wakanda. 

The Man who destroyed the world and The Woman who tried everything to prevent it.

How could their fate not be wrought with challenge?

"I know what I'm getting into, Okoye," Shuri says softly. For there was no other choice. "But I need to do this for Wakanda... and Toussaint."

Attuma guesses that Namor will give Shuri an answer in a week.

Namor seeks her out after three days. 

Shuri is in her old room in the palace, packing what few belongings she has that had survived the flooding of Wakanda. 

There has been no discussion of her living arrangements; whether she will stay in one nation and visit the other or if her residency will be split. Such talks are redundant until Namor gives her an answer. Still, Shuri knows that Namor will want her to reside in Talokan for the vast majority of the time; he had said as much all those years ago, when he tried to force her back to Talokan, promising her that she could return to visit Wakanda whenever she chose. 

Once they had his answer, Shuri did not think Namor would allow much time to pass before their wedding. 

He had already waited a long time for her. 

Would have waited longer, if Toussaint had not tried to rebel against Talokan.

Shuri shakes her head, scolding herself for such petty thoughts. 

What's done was done and she could not blame anyone for trying to fight against Talokan, when she had been doing that from the start. Toussaint had done exactly what she had. The difference was he did not have the love of a God to protect him from retribution. She was just upset and angry about her helplessness in the situation and looking for anyone to lash out at. Unfortunately, Toussaint seemed to be the easiest identifiable target.

It didn't help that he was the son of those that she loved, those that had betrayed her. There perhaps was a little jealousy there, misplaced as it was. 

"Running away again, Princess?"

Shuri stills, only for a moment, before continuing to pack her clothes into one of the many boxes littering the room.

From the corner of her eye, Shuri sees Namor glide through the open doors of the balcony on fluttering wings. He parts through the gossamer curtains and lands delicately on the marble floor. Outside, the stars shine brightly, the full moon flooding into the room and bathing upon his skin. It makes Namor look more ethereal than he usually does, his face partially shadowed. 

Shuri hadn't expected him to seek her out so soon; she had thought he would torment her a little longer with waiting. 

“No, I am packing for Talokan," Shuri explains. 

“And why would you be going to Talokan?" Namor drawls. "You think you know my answer before I give it?”

"I am not in the mood for games, Namor," Shuri sighs. "Stop with whatever one you are playing. We both know that you are going to agree as it is what is best for both of our nations.”

“So sure of yourself,” Namor murmurs. “Perhaps it would be less of a headache for me to marry a different daughter of Wakanda.”

"If you were going to do that, you would have done so already. Stop attempting to make me jealous," Shuri scoffs, ignoring the pang of jealousy she felt at his words. "It will not work.”

The smirks Namor gives her tells her that he knows exactly how effective his attempts are. 

Shuri rolls her eyes, focusing on packing.

Namor steps further into her room. He observes her wall art with a smile (whimsical scenes of Wakanda's scenery) and Shuri resists the urge to shoo him away. No one is allowed in her room, and thus the paintings had only ever been viewed by her mother. After looking at them for far too long and seeing too much, Namor takes a seat on her bed, his legs crossed at the ankles, arms folded over his chest, looking too much at home for her liking. 

Shuri readies to snap at him for having his sandals on her bed, but he had already slipped them off. 

Toes out in her room? The nerve of the man. 

"I have come to give you my answer," Namor declares. "But first, I need to know that you understand what will be required of you. You will not just be my wife, you will also be Queen of Talokan. My responsibilities, duties and loyalties will become yours as well. That is no task to be taken lightly. As rulers we will be the foundation for which our people stand and to do that we must present a united front.”

Namor knows that Shuri is well-versed in the responsibilities of ruling. Even when she had only been a Princess and second heir, her parents had been thorough in her education in regards to politics and ruling. She had ruled Wakanda as Queen for a year. And in her time in Yucatan, she had learned much more about politics, especially in this new world. Namor will have no doubts about her capabilities in that area.

What he doesn't know, is how she will react to him in public. 

“You are saying you want me to be a doting wife?”

"No," Namor says, "But when we are in public, I want you to be my partner and greatest ally. We can not show division. Behind closed doors, you can hate me all you wish, but we must be cordial and united when we are among our people. If either of our people senses division between us, it will weaken their faith and create turmoil within the alliance. Should anyone harbour ill will of us, it will be weaponised to destroy us."

The relationship between King and Queen was vital to the stability of a Kingdom. Even when her parents had been fighting, they took great lengths to never show it out in the open. 

“Does that mean I have to be affectionate towards you in public?” Shuri asks warily. 

“I would not demand such things from you. The only time I wish you to touch me is if you wish it,” Namor says sincerely. “And know this, that as you share my burden, I will also share yours. Your people will be my own and I will protect and cherish them as devotedly as any Talokanil. I will stand by you. I will protect you. I will not let anyone hurt or disrespect you. I will value your opinion and listen to it."

His words give her comfort, quelling some of her fears. There will be autonomy, boundaries and respect, but how much of those she will have in this marriage she will not fully trust until she tests the limits herself. At least in this regard, the future is not so dark. 

"I can do that," Shuri replies quietly. 

She will keep her resentment concealed from his people, and even her own. She will contain her emotions and resist the urge to defy him for defiance's sake. It will not be easy, but it is what her people need. It is what her family has done for centuries to ensure the longevity of their reign. It is a heavy burden, and Shuri can feel it weighing heavy on her head, a crown heavier than a mountain of vibranium. From now on, she will strive for unity - as bitter a pill as it is to swallow.

"I have conditions."

“And what are those?” Namor asks curiously. 

Shuri fiddles with a loose thread on her colourful bedspread. It depicts a mountain range, a flock of antelope grazing on the fields below. 

"A Princess has to make many sacrifices for her nation. Sometimes it's through an arranged marriage as they are what is needed to secure alliances, strengthen tribal bonds, and acquire power." Her eyes harden as they meet Namors'. "I will accept that, but what I will not accept is that fate upon any children we have in the future."

Shuri feels her cheeks heat, but presses on. 

"I am not saying that I want children, but it has been made clear that others will expect if not outright demand it."

On a practical and political level, she understood it. A child would ensure the alliance would preserve long after Shuri died. With her age, it would be expected soon, before she could no longer conceive. This wasn't how she wanted to bring a child into this world, but it was the cruel reality of being born into the royal family. That privilege came with a heavy burden. If it had to happen... then it had to happen, but she wanted to at least try to protect these children. 

"I want their existence to be enough to secure the alliance," Shuri admits quietly. "I don't want their futures to be controlled by others, to be robbed of their happiness."

To live a life of sacrifice that their mother has. 

Shuri isn't sure if Namor could promise her this. 

But she has to try. 

Namor is quiet as he looks at her thoughtfully, something close to sympathy in his eyes and a touch of fondness. 

"I know you would do anything for Talokan... and I know when we are married you will do the same for Wakanda... but not this," Shuri adds firmly. "Do not allow them to be used for politics."

Namor shifts across the bed and sits beside Shuri. He holds out his hand, a silent ask for her own. Shuri obliges and Namor entwines their fingers. He brings her knuckles to his lips, placing a soft kiss on each one. 

“I swear it, Princess," he promises. "And know this, I will not let anyone harass you into such decisions. Whether or not we have children, I will leave that up to you and defend you no matter what you decide. Regardless of what happens, I will keep my oath to you and protect Wakanda."

She can see his earnestness, but she cannot help but wonder if that is how he truly feels.

"You believe in your mother's mural. The one that showed a future where we have a child. Are you just appeasing me about not having them?"

"There are many ways that future could unfold," Namor says, and it sounds like he is admitting so begrudgingly - he doesn't like the idea of it being anything other than what he wanted. "Perhaps it is not our child at all, but us blessing another couple, as is customary?" Namor shrugs. "I will not deny that I would like children with you, but if that is not what you wish, I will accept that. And I will not let anyone else force that upon you."

Shuri nods, not trusting her voice. 

It is reassuring that he will have her back on this, but it feels like it will be an uphill battle in the coming years.

Wakanda will not be happy if she chooses not to have children. They want the reassurance and they have shown that they do not trust Namor's words - that she cannot blame them for. It would be all too easy for tensions to rise and another rebellion to break out in the future, only this time Shuri will not be there to stop it. A child would circumvent that. It would stop the conflict between tribes competing for the throne. It would prevent those with reservations against Talokan from taking the crown. It would also continue the legacy of The Golden Tribe, now that Toussaint's fate was unclear and his chances of carrying on the bloodline in question. 

"Do not think too much about it," Namor says, as if reading her thoughts. "We will come to those bridges when we come to them. There are other battles to be fought here and now, leave tomorrow's battle for tomorrow."

Namor's thumb strokes the back of her hand, offering her some small comfort. 

"I do have one condition before I accept your proposal," Namor says, a mischievous smile twitching at the corner of his lips. "If you will hear it."

“And what is that?” Shuri narrows her eyes, already wary. 

“I will only agree to marry you if you answer one question truthfully. Will you indulge me in this, Princess?”

"Is that your question?" Shuri asks, a little cheekily. 

Amused, Namor shakes his head and leans forward, forcing Shuri to lean away. He tilts his head, his eyes flickering to her lips for the briefest of moments.

Softly, Namor asks, "Do you wish to marry me purely for politics? Or is there any part of you, no matter how small, that wants to do it because you want to marry me?"

He is too close, she thinks, giving her no other choice but to look at him. The amusement in his eyes is gone, replaced with something fragile, something soft, something hopeful.

She can truly see then, just how much the notion that she is doing this for duty and duty alone is hurting him. She wonders if he fears her feelings for him have faded over the years, that the love that she felt, that he saw through her broken-down tears in the mural cave, is gone. 

"Does it matter?" Shuri questions. 

"You are avoiding the question."

"I don't think you deserve that answer."

"And yet I ask you for it," Namor replies, leaning closer still.

I could deny you it, Shuri thinks. I could let you believe that my love has withered. That I have not thought of you in all these years. That you do not have any power over me. Not anymore.

She had gotten better at lying over the years, forced to do so to keep her identity hidden on Yucatán. She could lie now, but no matter how good she was Namor was a walking lie detector with those ears, making a lie as good as a confession. 

"A part of me does," Shuri admits quietly, staring into his dark eyes. The part of her that yearned for the future they could have had together, if things had been different. With more self-loathing than she intends, she cannot help but mutter, "And I hate myself for it."

At the very least know that I consider loving you a curse as cruel as being loved by you.

When Namor kisses her, she lets him.

He gently guides her down onto her back and caresses her lips with his in the gentlest of brushes. They are tentative and cautious kisses, lavishing yet quiet, firm yet delicate. She wonders if he is being so gentle as he is afraid she will push him away, that his passions will scare her and break whatever spell has her in its grasp. 

Maybe he thinks as she does. That their kisses are cursed and if he prolongs their parting, the disasters that always follow will be kept at bay a while more. 

Shuri slips her hands across his chest, over jade and gold and around his neck to draw him closer. She hates that she has missed him. That she wants nothing more than to run her hands across every inch of him and pull him closer so there is no space between them. 

She wonders what they would like to passersby; Shuri in her purple shorts and a tank top, Namor adorned in precious jewels and vibranium, his body pressing her into the mattress, the lavender lace curtains of the four-postered bed fluttering in the cool night air, moonlight basking upon their skin. 

The Princess and The King, fated enemies entwined in passions embrace. 

"Princess Shuri of Wakanda," Namor murmurs against her lips. "I, K'uk'ulkan, King of Talokan, The Feathered Serpent God, will accept you as my bride."

His next kiss is open-mouthed, his tongue slipping into her to meet her own. 

Shuri's fingers move to run through his hair, combing it back before she grasps it firmly. When Namor groans, Shuri feels a needy thrill run down her stomach and lower, making her arch her body into his, seeking his warmth and the sturdiness of his body. 

Fleetingly, it occurs to Shuri that this is the first time she has had a boy in her room. It's such a silly, childish thought that she cannot help but feel giddy and smiles into the kiss. She had never been one for such antics as a teenager; that had always been T'Challa's forte, one he was spectacularly bad at. Always getting caught by mother...

The thought of T'Challa is like ice down her spine.

Toussaint. 

Shuri breaks the kiss, her hand pushing against Namor's chest. She sits up, leaning on one hand. They are both breathless, panting slightly. 

There will always be something that comes between us, Shuri thinks woefully. 

"Princess?" Namor asks huskily, eyes still glazed with want. 

You are about to execute my nephew. And I don't know if I can figure out a way to prevent it without war breaking out. 

"I will inform The Elders of your decision," Shuri mumbles, slipping out from under him. 

Namor sighs, propping himself up on his elbows. He stares at the mattress where she had once lay and shakes his head. 

As Shuri leaves she hears him whisper to himself, "Will you ever cease finding ways to run away from me, Princess?"

This is not how we should have met. 

Shuri stares at the boy - no, the young man - slouched against the wall, trapped behind a glimmering forcefield. His prison cell is minimal; a cot, no window, dull coloured floors and walls with no decorations or patterns. He is dressed in simple clothes; black trousers and a long-sleeve black top. 

When he looks up, Shuri feels like her heart is captured in vibranium claws, mercilessly squeezing till it is difficult to breathe. 

He looks so much like T'Challa. Had she not been told who he was, she might have thought her brother come back from the dead. She could see Nakia in him too, in the slender curve of his jaw and his long eyelashes. His eyes though lacked T'Challa and Nakia's softness; these were eyes that had seen too much pain for one so young, who was already exhausted before his life has truly begun. 

"Hello, Auntie Shuri," Toussaint greets her, his voice hoarse from lack of use. "I see Okoye managed to drag you into this mess too."

Behind her, Shuri feels Okoye and Attuma bristle.

"She dragged me into nothing. I chose to come here." Shuri clears her throat, not sure what to say. "Are you being treated well?"

"As well as one can in a cage." Toussaint lowers his head and lets out a pathetic chuckle. "I am sorry for all this. This is not how I imagined our first meeting. I wanted us to meet in victory. The Talokanil army defeated. The Feathered Serpent slain. The oceans retreated from the lands. Those that fled Earth able to return. Those that remain no longer afraid." 

Toussaint leans his head back against the wall, his eyes closing. 

"I really thought this was it; that this time we would win," Toussaint whispers. His voice turns vicious as he says, "But now The Elders are forcing you to marry that snake because we didn't win."

"I am the one who asked to marry Namor, not The Elders," Shuri replies carefully. 

"You asked for it?" Toussaint opens his eyes, startled. He looks at her confused. "Why would you do that? Why would you want to marry someone like him, after everything that he has done? He is not exactly bachelor of the year!" 

"It is to keep Wakanda from being destroyed," Shuri says, keeping her voice calm. "It is the only way to secure the alliance that I neglected."

"Are you insane?"

"Toussaint!" Attuma takes his place by Shuri, scowling down at Toussaint. "Watch your tone."

Toussaint rolls his eyes. "Are you listening to what she is saying? She is being foolish!"

"If you had not followed through with this foolish rebellion, then the Princess would not be in the compromised position that she is," Attuma retorts. 

"She wouldn't have known had you two not told her! She would still be safe if you had left her be!" Toussaint scrambles to his feet and stands close to the forcefeild. Furiously, he says to Shuri, "You can't marry him. This isn't right and you know that! He killed Grandmother Ramonda. Your mother! How can you marry her killer?" 

Shuri digs her nails into her palms. 

"I know what he has done, Toussaint. You do not have to remind me," Shuri grits out. 

Not a day went by when she did not think about her mother, of how she was stolen from her. 

And by who. 

"We can still defeat him," Toussaint pleads. "There has to be a way. There is always a way!" 

"Toussaint, enough," Shuri says tiredly. "The war is over. We can't keep fighting."

"Yes, we can!" 

Looking at Toussaint is like staring into the looking glass and seeing her younger self. Eyes bright with defiance. Ready to risk everything to fight for the future that she wanted. A hope for victory and a brighter future burning in her chest, pushing her to take on the impossible.  

Ignoring all reason...

Recklessly hurtling into danger...

And dragging everyone down with her. 

"The world has changed and there is no going back. To survive going forward, Talokan and Wakanda must be allies and that starts with this marriage," Shuri says firmly, desperately wanting him to see reason.

She has been where he stood and knows it is a fool's errand. Talokan cannot be beaten. Namor cannot be beaten. If they fight, they would perish. 

"He destroyed the world! He killed Grandmother Ramonda!" Toussaint bangs his fist off the forcefield, causing sparks. His chest heaves and he takes a moment to calm himself. Quietly, he whispers, "I think he killed my mother too. Mother was convinced that Namor would come for her one day, that he would learn who killed the two handmaidens when she was rescuing you from Talokan."

"Nakia died from a disease," Okoye interjects, coming to stand beside Shuri. "Toussaint, we've discussed this."

"She was healthy! There was nothing wrong with her and then all of a sudden she is dying - just as Baba did! How does that make sense? No one wanted her dead other than Namor!"

"There is no evidence for such a thing. I know you miss your mother, but you want someone to be angry at, someone you can lash out at," Okoye's voice is pleading, "but that cannot be Namor. If you defy him again you are going to get yourself killed!"

"Along with the rest of Wakanda," Attuma chimes in.

"Even if he didn't, he still killed Grandmother and flooded the world! I have plenty of reasons to want to defy him!" Toussaint argues. "And you are all insane if you think it is right for Auntie Shuri to marry that tyrant! We should be trying to defeat them, not marrying them!"

"I understand your pain, Toussaint," Shuri says, choosing her words cautiously. "And truthfully, I more than anyone have no right to scold you. I defied Namor for years. I left Wakanda, my throne and my friends to do so. I was blinded by my need for revenge and because of me Wakanda was put in danger."

Shuri tells Toussaint the story of how she had tried to poison Namor with the red death. How she had allowed her fury and frustrations to consume her and suffocate her reasoning. How the plan had failed. How close Wakanda had been to annihilation. How Talokan's pain would have become their own. 

"If I had succeeded, we would not be here having this conversation. Talokan would have destroyed us. My pain almost led us to that fate and now yours has too." With an exhausted sigh, Shuri mutters, "We can't keep going on like this. I know you do not like this world. I do not like it either. Unfortunately, this is the world that we are in now and we have to survive."

Toussaint is quiet, but Shuri can see the tremor of rage stirring inside him. When his eyes meet hers, there is no understanding, only fury and betrayal. 

"My father would not have given up. He would be shamed of what has become of Wakanda." Toussaint says, raising his chin defiantly. "He would be ashamed of you."

"Toussaint!" Okoye snaps. 

"It's fine, Okoye." Shuri steps towards the forcefield. "I tried to stop Namor. I tried to save the world. It's gone now. There is nothing I can do to bring it back. The only thing within my power to do is keep Wakanda safe."

"By marrying a monster?" 

"It is the only way to save Wakanda!" Shuri snaps. "It is the only way to save you."

Toussaint laughs. "Whether you believe it or not he killed my mother for killing two handmaidens. I have slain hundreds in battle. What do you think your husband-to-be will do to me?"

"I will find a way."

"He will not spare me for he knows that I will never stop fighting him. I would rather die than do so!"

Okoye chokes back a cry.

Attuma snaps, "Then you will die for pride. A pointless death."

Toussaint glares at him. "You are no better than him! You are his General! You stood by him as he destroyed the world!" 

"He has kept you safe," Okoye points out. 

"I do not care! Saving one life does not make him a good person. What about everyone else? Do they not matter?" Toussaint scoffs. "Just leave me! I do not wish to see any of you!" 

Toussaint turns his back on them. 

Shuri wants him to understand, but if he is as stubborn as his father, as stubborn as her, then she knows it is pointless. 

"He didn't mean what he said, Shuri," Okoye says. "He is just angry and afraid. We all are."

The air is cold as they sit side by side on the river's edge, their feet steeped in the water. They have patterned quilts wrapped around their shoulders and mugs of steaming hot chocolate to keep them warm. 

"He meant every word," Shuri replies. "He is allowed to be angry and I'm sure he will not be the only one."

"I don't mean to push you, but have you convinced Namor to spare Toussaint?"

"Not yet. But I will."

Given how strongly Toussaint felt about fighting against Talokan, Shuri was beginning to think it might be impossible. 

Okoye nods.

"There is one favour I need to ask of you," Shuri says, turning to Okoye. "While I deal with things here, there is something I need you to investigate back on Yucatán. A scientist, Dr Phineas Mason."  

Chapter Text

The crown of Wakanda was a heavy burden. 

For centuries, The Golden Tribe had borne it, governing Wakanda with diligence and devotion, ready to sacrifice everything to protect their nation. It was an honour as much as it was a curse.

Millions of lives depended on you for survival. Your victories were everyone's gains but your failures became everyone's suffering. You were loved as much as you were hated. People sought your demise and wanted to manipulate you for their own gain. Sooner or later, you were forced to make terrible decisions that darkened your soul and shattered your heart.

Shuri sits on the floor of the throne room, staring vacantly at the throne her family had proudly occupied for most of Wakanda's history. The only light comes from a slither of moonlight through the window, its light blocked by the throne, casting a shadow over the new Queen of Wakanda. 

Twice now she has found herself thrust upon that seat. Neither time had been by her own volition but by the necessity of circumstance. Her mother's death and now the imprisonment and impending execution of her nephew. 

I do not want you, Shuri thinks, closing her eyes. I have never wanted you.

Her hands were stained with blood because of the power and responsibility that throne had given her. 

There were choices she had to make that still haunt her to this day. 

You were never even meant to be mine, yet you keep finding a way back to me.

And far below the ocean, under a vibrant vibranium sun, another throne awaits her. 

A throne and a King who had hunted her across oceans, whose Queen she would soon be.

Shuri will not deny feeling a little surly when she had arrived in the throne room. 

Namor had officially given his reply to The Elders regarding her marriage proposal. With the marriage accepted and Shuri once again crowned Queen of Wakanda, the wedding preparations had begun in earnest. Much to her annoyance, this included discussing the union with matchmakers.

It was not a custom unheard of in Wakanda. Ever since Shuri had come of age, matchmakers had routinely requested an audience with her mother, prompted by prestigious families keen on making connections with the reigning royal family through marriage with the Princess. Her mother had always rejected them despite political pressures, wanting her children to marry for love - a luxury not afforded by all previous royalty. 

Given the unique circumstances that have brought Shuri and Namor together, Shuri wasn't quite sure why a matchmaker was even needed.

Jokingly, she had previously asked Attuma what would happen if the matchmaker thought she and Namor were incompatible. Although it was a joke, secretly Shuri was more than a little nervous; an entire nation's survival depended on this marriage happening after all. Attuma had snorted and told her that as the groom was the King and God of Talokan, it didn't matter what the Matchmaker thought. It was nothing but a formality, something to ease the people's acceptance of her as his bride. Only a fool would go against their diety.

"Besides," Attuma had grinned. "K'uk'ulkan will have words with him before the meeting."

As Shuri sits on her throne, watching the trembling Talokanil Matchmaker stumble and stutter through a clearly rehearsed speech, Shuri wonders just what kind of talk the two men had. Whatever it was, it had certainly put the fear of the Gods into the Matchmaker. 

The poor Taloknail kept throwing nervous glances at Namor as if seeking approval. 

Namor sat on the chair beside her, looking pleased and nodding in agreement to The Matchmaker's extravagant declarations of their compatibility.

According to The Matchmaker - if it was to be believed that he wasn't making such proclamations under the threat of being reduced to shark bait - Shuri and Namor's fate had been meticulously planned by the Gods, their stars aligned more perfectly than any other before them. That they had been hand-crafted for one another. That their hearts were two pieces that would not be whole without the other. How their love would transcend even the death of the universe and bring nothing but bountiful fortune to their Kingdoms! 

Shuri wants to curl up and die from embarrassment, hearing the cringe-worthy nonsense The Matchmaker was spewing. And in front of The Elders of all people! She couldn't help but side-eye Namor and wonder just how much of this speech was The Matchmaker and what lines had been fed to him by Namor. 

The Matchmaker prattles on and on for a solid thirty minutes.

The Elders try and look interested, but a few are struggling not to doze off; the river tribe leader had given up that battle and was quietly snoring, slumped on his chair. 

The Dora Milaje around the room were either fighting to conceal their yawns or their giggles. 

Shuri had almost reached peak humiliation when finally The Matchmaker ran out of wind and ended his speech of soul mates, eternal love, and unbreakable bonds. He hastily says his goodbyes, bowing respectfully to Namor and Shuri. He all but flees the room, nearly colliding with the door on his way out. 

"What in Bast's name did you do to him?" Shuri whispers, watching as the doors slam shut. 

"What makes you think I did anything?" Namor asks slyly. 

"He was terrified!" 

Shuri did not believe for a second that anyone would willing say such cheesy and melodramatic nonsense under anything other than extreme duress!

"I merely corrected his wrong reading of the Gods' will before this meeting." Namor casts a glance around the room. "Where is the Wakandan Matchmaker? We would not want anything to risk this marriage and the unity it will provide."

"I will speak to our matchmaker." Shuri gives him a warning look. Namor tilts his head, looking more innocent than he has any right to be. "And you will stay far away from him."

Namor's grin is shark-like. 

Before he can say anything, the doors to the throne room burst open.

The sleeping Elder nearly falls out of his seat, startled by the loud noise.

All heads turn to an entourage of Dora Milaje escorting what appears to be a Wakandan and a Talokanil. On closer inspection, Shuri realises with mounting horror that it was the wedding planners. 

Both women look like they had been dragged kicking and screaming through a muddy field. Their clothes were ripped and stained, their hair twig and leaf ridden and tousled to the point that scissors may be their only salvation. The Wakandan wedding planner was sporting a swollen eye and a scratch on her cheek, while the Talokanil wedding planner had a broken nose and what looks like a bite mark on her arm. 

"What happened?" Shuri gasps, rising to her feet. 

For a horrible moment, Shuri thinks someone has harmed them. That this is an attack on the royal wedding and that the alliance is being put at risk once more. But then she notices the disgruntled look on both wedding planners' faces, the way they uncomfortably shift from foot to foot, pointedly refusing to look at one another. They look more like two unruly schoolchildren getting brought to the headmistress's office. And the Dora Milaje surrounding them look more irked than concerned. 

One of the warrior women takes a step forward and clears her throat. "They had a disagreement over which colour of dress Your Majesty should wear for her wedding. It got a little-" the Dora glances distastefully at the wedding planners, "heated."

Bast, give me strength, Shuri thinks, flopping back down onto her throne. 

"So tell me," Namor asks casually, a smile on his face. "Who won the fight?"

It isn't until later that night, once the nightmarish meeting had concluded, that Shuri finds out from the gossip vine exactly what had triggered the fight. 

In Talokan weddings white was traditionally worn for the ceremony. 

The Wakandan wedding planner had agreed that it was the perfect choice. 

Considering white was Wakanda's colour of mourning.

Shuri almost wishes Namor had heard that. It would have wiped off the smug look on his face that wouldn't leave after discovering The Talokanil wedding planner had won the brawl. 

It is Namora who delivers the dowry. 

As is customary in Talokan within certain regions of Wakanda - though in Wakanda it was known as a lobola - before a marriage is carried out, the groom's family presents a dowry to the bride's family. It consists of gifts to show the groom's commitment to the bride, to prove that he can provide a comfortable life for her, and it is seen as a way to bring together two families. As Shuri has no family other than her nephew who remains imprisoned, the dowry is presented to Shuri instead and will return with her to Talokan. 

Shuri stands shell-shocked by the door as a small army of Talokanil handmaidens brings a seemingly never-ending stream of gifts. Before long, there is hardly any room left to move in the parlour room. The handmaidens bow their heads respectfully and leave Shuri alone with Namora, who is dressed in an elegant amber gown, her mouth fitted with a water mask to breathe. 

"Have you ever heard of the expression 'overkill'?" Shuri gasps. 

"Perhaps you are right," Namora remarks dryly. "The dowry is supposed to reflect the brides worth after all."

That comment chills the room considerably. 

It takes Shuri all her self-control not to let loose a scathing retort. They had not been alone for a minute and already Namora's metaphorical spear had been drawn.

Considering the train wreck the wedding planning has been thus far, Shuri does not want to add a catfight with her future in-law to the list of bad omens on how her marriage will fare. 

Namora takes Shuri around the room, pointing out each gift, explaining its origins, value, histories associated with it and why it was added to the dowry. 

Among the gifts are dozens of wooden chests with hand-painted murals of Talokan life, each one filled to the brim with precious gems. There is a variety of flawless and colourful seashells displayed on woven pillows - whelks, sea urchins, scallops, conch shells and clams - most of which are ornaments, but some have been fashioned into delicate jewellery like earrings, bracelets and necklaces. There are jars and pots filled with various fruits and vegetables brought from Talokan, as well as chocolate and sweets. There are various artefacts from cultures across the globe of varying time periods, salvaged from wreckages and wonderfully preserved - it takes Shuri a lot of willpower not to excitedly ramble about their histories, as she feels Namora would only roll her eyes or ignore her. 

One of the most striking items in the room is the seashell throne.

It was constructed with a tremendously sized open clamshell, made entirely of jade with glistening pearls adorning the rim of the shells. It was perched on a small podium to give it sufficient height, the podium itself was covered in pearls and silver shells. It was breathtakingly beautiful and by far the most lavish item in the room. 

"This will be your throne when you return to Talokan," Namora explains coldly, clearly not happy about it. "K'uk'ulkan had it made for you."

Considering it must have taken a long time to craft, Shuri wonders how long ago Namor had it commissioned.

Perhaps it is best not to know.

Namora pauses before a collection of dresses, carefully arranged on mannequin bodies. 

"And these are dresses made by Queen Fen before her parting," Namora explains. For the first time, her voice softens. A wistful expression on her face that she quickly hides with a shake of her head. "They were meant to be given to K'uk'ulkan's bride when he found someone worthy of the honour."

"Queen Fen?" Shuri asks, ignoring Namora's subtle snark.

"K'uk'ulkan's mother." 

Shuri looks at the hand-crafted gowns, each one unique and regal, perfect for a Queen. Dresses the colours of pearl, auburn sunsets, lush forests and periwinkle skies. Some have simple designs, others more complicated, but all are equally beautiful.

When Shuri inspects the detailing on some of the dresses further, her heart begins to ache.

It was clear these dresses were not made for just anyone.

They were made for her.

Although the clothes are made in Talokans style, there are subtle elements that nod to her Wakandan origin - something Queen Fen would have known if her divination abilities were true. 

One is the colours of the savannahs, with black-lined patterns of jaguars and acacias trees. Another is lavender and sleeveless, with intricate colourful beading across the bodice and neck, reminding Shuri of the beaded jewellery she had worn at her brother's coronation. One dress looks painfully similar to the white gown her mother had worn at Warrior Falls and another like her mother's favourite red dress with complex embroidery patterns. 

It is touching, seeing the care Queen Fen took to make these dresses. Perhaps this was her way of trying to make Shuri feel more at home in Talokan, a small comfort to have reminders of Wakanda when she was far away from it. 

At the same time, it unsettles Shuri. 

It was more proof that Namor's mother truly did have visions of the future. 

If the future could be predicted, did that not then mean it was inevitable? That it didn't matter what Shuri had done - all those years fighting Namor, drowning in loneliness, struggling to save The Earth - had it all been futile? Had she been destined to end up here as she had feared? Exactly where Namor wanted her; his Queen and bride. 

The final dress is the most lavish, one fit for only the most sacred of occasions. A gown of gold with a flaring skirt and a bodice of scales as hard as vibranium but made from something rougher. There is a cape attached to the back of the dress, made up of elongated feathers of reds, blues and greens. 

"This dress," Shuri says, fingers stroking the bodice. "These are scales and feathers from Namor's serpents form." 

Way to stake a claim, Shuri muses. She isn't sure whether this is a sweet or creepy gesture. 

"K'uk'ulkan," Namora corrects harshly, glaring at Shuri. "If you are to marry our King, you cannot address him as an enemy." 

"Sorry. Old habit," Shuri mumbles, eyeing Namora warily.

Namora clicks her tongue irritably and returns her scowl to the wall. 

Shuri didn't require divination powers to foresee herself having fights with Namora in the future. There would only be so much of the woman's attitude she could endure; the condensing manner in which she spoke, the snide remarks, and the distasteful looks.

It was something the both of them were going to have to hash out at some point.

Like it or not, Namora was a highly respected, beloved and influential person within Talokan society. She was The Second-In-Command of the Talokan Army, the cherished relative of the nation's deity and King. If people saw that Namora disliked their Queen and did not trust her, it would create issues. Worse still if they saw Namora so openly disrespecting her. 

And truthfully, Shuri did not want to deal with a bitter in-law until she was old and grey. 

Namora's attitude was a sombre reminder to Shuri, that there would be many Talokanil who would not accept her. As much as she disliked Namora's hostility, Shuri knew there were valid reasons for that distrust and snark - even if Namora should be mature enough to put it aside for her nation's sake. 

Even though Shuri had saved two Talokanil children, whatever love that may have garnered would be overshadowed by the knowledge that many Talokanil remember her as the Queen who charged into battle against them after her mother had sent someone to breach their borders and kill two of their people. The Queen who gave up her throne to fight against them in the war, who crafted weapons that hampered their efforts and injured and killed their warriors. 

If Shuri is to be their Queen, it will be an uphill battle to win their hearts.

"There are other gifts, but I took the liberty of disrupting them to more suitable locations," Namora says.

For the first time, Namora smiles and it is chilling; it reminds Shuri of Namor's smile when he is up to mischief, a little smug and a little impish. 

Shuri narrows her eyes, already beginning to worry. Shuri opens her mouth to ask about these other gifts, but she is cut off by a rapid flurry of knocks on the door. A flustered servant rushes through the door, looking breathless and sweaty from having run all the way here.

"Catfish!" The servant cries. "There are giant catfish in the garden fountain!" 

Shuri turns to Namora.

Namora shrugs. "A part of the dowry. There was nowhere else to put them."

"So you put them in the fountain?" Shuri exclaims. "There are fish in there!"

"Now there are more fish." Namora hums thoughtfully. "Or perhaps there are less. Catfish have quite the appetites."

Shuri glares at Namora. Through gritted teeth, she hisses, "Well, then we need to find somewhere else for them!" 

Namora sighs and follows Shuri and the frantic servant through the palace corridors, towards the garden.

As they pass the kitchen, the doors burst open and a wave of crabs pour out of the room, blocking their path.

The crabs scurry across the marble floors, claws clacking and legs scuttling. The kitchen staff are in a tizzy, yelling at each other, chasing after crabs with pots, pans, boxes and nets. The head chef is on the kitchen counter, wrestling with a particularly monstrous-sized crab and is attempting to bash its head in with a wooden spoon. 

Slowly, Shuri turns to look at Namora. 

Namora shrugs. 

"I warned them Talokan crabs are feisty."

When Shuri was younger and needed time alone, she would often take refuge here on the top of the palace roof. No one knew to look for her here, no one except T'Challa, but he was no longer here to find her. 

Shuri never imagined how drastically the landscape would have changed since she was a child. 

Many buildings were missing, having been destroyed during The Great Flood and The Wakandan Rebellion against Talokan. Ancient trees had been washed away. On the horizon, where once had been golden fields, the ocean now glimmered in the sunlight. 

Shuri idly plays with her kimoyo beads on her wrist, taking in each and every change with a heavy heart. 

She tries to comfort herself with the knowledge that the wars and rebellions were over now - that her people could rest and live their lives peacefully - but it was a thought that stung and left her nauseous. An entire world had drowned for this version of peace. Those that had lived through it would never know peace of mind, not after the horrors they had witnessed and endured. Their hearts were forever scarred. 

And Shuri was to marry the man responsible for it all.

It still had not quite fully sunk in, that in a few weeks, she and Namor would be man and wife. That she would once again return to Talokan, this time as their Queen and consort of their King. She would have to learn to navigate an entirely new world of politics, earn the people's love and respect and trust, figure out ways to improve relationships between the Talokanil and Wakadans, and all the while ruling Wakanda from afar. 

It would not be easy.

And that was without throwing Namor into it. 

Shuri wasn't sure how their relationship would change once they were married - if at all.

She would do her duties as Queen to the best of her abilities. Where she was lacking, she would improve. She would keep her word and not fight him in public, keeping her ill will hidden. She would work with him as maturely as she could, united in helping their Kingdoms flourish so that their people would know nothing but peace and happiness. His slights against her she would not allow to interfere with her role as Queen.

It would not be easy, but it was what had to be done. 

How she would treat him behind closed doors was still an uncertainty. She wanted to be stubborn. To treat him coldly and keep him at arm's length, keeping their relationship strictly professional. To be defiant in what little ways she could. To torture him knowing she was there beside him, but she was not truly his. The one thing on this Earth he could never have, no matter how hard he tried. Her only means of punishing him for what he had done. She could follow through with Attuma's suggestion, using the marriage to make him suffer.

The price would be her own eternal unhappiness.

She wants to believe she is stubborn enough to pull it off. After all, she had denied Namor these past fifteen years and had not succumbed to the insistent longing to seek him out. 

But he hadn't been there to tempt her. 

And from now on he would be. 

How many times had Namor managed to lower her guard and seduce her with his gentle touch and kisses? How many times had she found comfort in his arms, despite him being the cause of her pain? How many times had he made her forget, even for a moment, the oceans of blood that separated them?

How long would it be before he thawed the icy fortress around her heart and stole the last pieces for himself? 

Okoye returns from Yucatán.

She brings with her Mason's laptop and a vial of Serum Medea. With it, Shuri can finally figure out what Mason had been getting up to, something she had been unable to do before leaving Yucatán in her hurry to save Wakanda and her nephew. 

Tests confirm that Serum Medea is the same poison that the Wakanda Rebellion used against The Talokanil. That meant Mason had somehow gotten into contact with Wakanda and had actively participated in the Rebellion.

Another nail in his coffin.

And one that could bring down Yucatán with him. For if Mason was involved in this others could be too. Namor was so paranoid he might decide to go nuclear and wash away all the remaining survivors to eradicate all involved and anyone with knowledge of how to create the poison. 

It goes from bad to worse when Shuri hacks into Mason's laptop.

Shuri had wondered why Mason had been so bold to discuss his scheme with the Yucatán scientists during the monthly board meeting. After all, it had seemed an absurd plan, completely out of the realms of possibility with Yucatáns limited resources, something Mason had known just as well as everyone else. All such talks should have been utter fantasy and would do nothing but put himself and others in danger if they were overheard by the wrong people. 

Now Shuri knows why he had dared to. 

The plan had already been put into action.

Before The Resistance had fled Earth, while they still had access to resources and manpower, they had constructed structures to contain devasting quantities of Serum Madae. Within land masses surrounding The Atlantic, there were underground, encased reservoirs. Floating perilously among the waves were tanker ships cloaked with invisibility, all containing the deadly poison. Each reservoir of poison was manned by Resistance members who had remained behind on Earth to finish their construction and await the day for the plan to be enacted.

It wouldn't be enough to pollute the entire ocean, but the effects on The Atlantic, specifically Talokan, would be catastrophic. 

Shuri feels sick as she looks over the plans and detailed maps, her hands trembling on the keyboard. 

Her mind is assaulted with images of the Talokanil dead in the water, floating lifeless to the surface as their vibranium sun dies.

Frantically, Shuri re-reads every file and document, looking for evidence of how deeply involved Wakanda was in this madness. Thus far all she could find was their acceptance of the poison to utilise in their rebellion. But that didn't mean they didn't know about it or that they didn't play some role in the project. The cloaking technology used on the ships looked suspiciously like Wakandan's design, but she couldn't be sure. 

"If they have this all set up, why haven't they used it?" Okoye asks. 

"I don't know," Shuri mumbles, running her hands down her face. She jumps to her feet and paces the room, filled with nervous energy. "They could still be under construction or perhaps they were waiting to see how Wakanda's Rebellion ended?" Shuri paused briefly, an unnerving thought sinking in. "Or The Rebellion was a distraction."

Okoye looks stricken. 

"We need to inform Namor." Shuri hurries back to Mason's laptop, uploading the map of the poison stores' locations onto a kimoyo bead. "The Talokanil can overtake these reservoirs. I'll take the poison sample and use it to create something that could naturalize it."

She would plead with Namor to spare Yucatán and tell him of those who spoke out against Mason's plan. She would encourage him to investigate it and he could do what he wished with those involved and leave the innocent alone. If he ignored her, at the very least she will have tried.

As for Wakanda, Shuri was certain this would not affect the alliance. If Wakandans were involved, all those responsible would be a part of The Rebellion and Namor had already dealt with them. None of this would help improve Talokanil and Wakandan relations, but Shuri would take further steps to tackle that issue. 

"Wait!" Okoye grabs Shuri by the arm as she tries to leave. "We could use this information to bargain for Toussaint's life."

Shuri stills. "Okoye-"

"I know how awful that sounds," Okoye's voice is pained, "but this could be our only chance to save Toussaint!" 

Shuri could see the desperation in Okoye's eyes. After having raised Toussaint for so long, she considered him a son, and right now, she was not thinking like a General or Warrior, but a mother ready to do what had to be done to protect her child. Shuri wanted to save Toussaint, but there were millions of innocent lives on the line. Shuri had gone down such roads before, risking entire nations for one person's gain, and she would not do it again. 

"Okoye, I know you want to save Toussaint. I do too. But if I were to refuse to tell Namor about where the poison is, it will destroy this alliance and Wakanda with it," Shuri says firmly. "We cannot delay this with games of chicken, to see who cracks first. The Resistance could release the poison into the ocean any day and then there will be nothing that can save the Talokanil."

"Have you even spoken to Namor about sparing Toussaint?" Okoye snaps. 

"I tried but he would not hear it," Shuri defends herself. "But I have been trying to think up other ways to protect Toussaint."

Toussaint had been a constant in the back of Shuri's mind. There was no point trying to convince Namor to spare him, he had already made it clear that he was as unmovable as a mountain when it came to this. Instead, Shuri had been devising plans of spiriting Toussaint away. She could break him free of his prison and send him to another planet or dimension, somewhere he would be safe and could live his life. 

Namor would punish her for it and he would send people after Toussaint, but at least it gave her nephew a fighting chance. 

The problems were she didn't think Toussaint would go for it nor did she even know where she could send him or how to get him there. 

"He is not to be executed for a while yet. I will not stop trying to save him, Okoye," Shuri promises. "But there is one thing I must ask."

"What?"

As carefully as she could, Shuri asks, "Did Toussaint give you any indication that he knew about The Resistance's plan?"

Okoye's eyes widen, brimming with hurt. Indignantly, she snarls, "Toussaint could not have known! He wanted Talokan to yield, not for them to be annihilated!" 

"He used the same poison as them." 

"He had nothing to do with it," Okoye grits out. Before Shuri can speak, Okoye cuttingly asks, "If he did... would you abandon him? Would you let Namor kill him, just as he did your mother?"

As soon as the words leave her mouth, Okoye realises how terrible they are and her face contorts in regret.

"Shuri, I didn't mean-"

"I will go speak to Toussaint," Shuri says briskly. 

"I thought I said I did not want to see you again."

"You do not control what I do," Shuri says as she approaches the forcefield. 

"Queen for only a few weeks and already so bossy. I do not know how your fiancé will put up with you." Toussaint is lying on his bed, his hands clasped over his chest. He gives her a mirthless smile. "Has he killed anyone else lately?"

"Hate me if you want. Dislike what I must do. After this conversation, I will never speak with you again if that is what you want."

"After this conversation, your husband-to-be will have me executed."

Shuri digs her nails into her palms. She does not have time for this. She cuts straight to the point. 

"The poison that you and the rebellion used against the Talokanil is called Serum Medea. It was created by a scientist, Dr Phineas Mason, who resides in Yucatán."

Toussaint's face is carefully blank, but it appears he has not inherited his grandparent's poker faces. His eyes are too alert. And though he tries to keep his body posture relaxed, it is too rigid, betraying his tension.

"We made the poison ourselves," Toussaint states. "The Talokanil know this and have destroyed all of it."

"Dr Mason says otherwise. I've seen his research and I know first-hand how he created this poison. He gave it to you and Wakanda to aid in The Rebellion," Shuri says firmly.

"No-" Toussaint sits up. 

"Yes," Shuri cuts in. "I know you're trying to protect Yucatán by not revealing the true source of the poison, but protecting Mason is what will get them killed. I will speak with Namor and ensure Yucatán is safe and that only those involved will be punished."

"You think you can sway him?" Toussaint snorts. "You are nothing but a means of controlling Wakanda to him."

Shuri ignores him.

She steps closer to the forcefield.

"What I need to know is whether or not you had any involvement with Mason's plans to destroy every Talokanil by infecting the ocean with large quantities of the poison?" 

Toussaint is quiet a beat too long. 

Before he speaks, he scratches his lower lip. A small quirk Toussaint seems to share with his father. A quirk he did before he lied. 

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Shuri closes her eyes. 

He had known about Mason's plan.

"You knew," Shuri whispers. When she opens her eyes, they are filled with fury and disappointment. "You have the nerve to say T'Challa would be ashamed of me when you were planning on killing an entire population!" 

Toussaint jumps to his feet.

"It was not like that! It was supposed to be a deterrent. We were never going to use it!"

"You're a naive fool then!" Shuri scoffs. "Do you think The Resistance went through all that effort for a deterrent? They were never a deterrent. They are weapons of genocide!" 

"I would not have allowed it!" 

"And who is to stop them while you are here?"

Shuri turns to leave but Toussaint batters the forcefield. Shuri looks over her shoulder. Toussaint's eyes are wide and pleading. 

"You cannot tell Namor about the poison reservoirs!" Toussaint says desperately. "It is our last hope of stopping Talokan. Once we defeat them in battle, we can use the reservoirs to make sure they never attack us again. They would not be so foolish when they know we have a means of destroying them!" 

"Defeat them? You are in a cage, Toussaint. Your rebellion failed. Your fellow leaders and yourself are to be executed," Shuri shouts. "And if I stand by and ignore the poison, someone will release it and millions of Talokanil will die!" 

"They will not!" Toussaint snaps frustrated. "And we can still stop them. We just have to keep trying."

"I did try! The whole world tried! I fought and lost everything to stop Namor!" Shuri cries, wishing he would understand. "Namor controls the oceans and rivers and rains. He has the largest army on Earth. We could not beat him at full strength, what makes you so arrogant to think you can defeat him? All you will do is get everyone killed!" 

Shuri feels like her heart is breaking. 

Toussaint refuses to understand and she gets that, she truly does. She had been exactly where he was so many years ago, refusing to give up despite what everyone told her, despite how many times she lost. But she had learned the truth of this new world the hard way, a truth Toussaint had yet to learn. And one she feared he never would. 

I can't let you go, Shuri realizes with despair. If I do you'll find a way back to Earth and we'll end up right back here. 

He had his father's passion and charisma. If he wanted to he could inspire people to fight again. There would always be some resentment against Talokan, no matter what measures Shuri took to eradicate it, leaving plenty to be swayed into battle by the right words and motivation. 

Wakandans would die.

Talokanil would die. 

Toussaint would die.

I don't know if I can save you, Shuri laments.  

"I'm sorry, Toussaint." 

Shuri turns and leaves, ignoring his cries for her to come back. 

Shuri requests a Talokanil guard summon Namor to the throne room.

It is Namora who comes. 

"Where is your King?" Shuri asks. 

"Perhaps he did not wish to see you."

Do not throttle her, Shuri thinks. I have enough problems as there is. 

"As his second in command, I speak for Talokan in his absence. Whatever you have to say you can speak it with me," Namora says. "Besides K'uk'ulkan will not be back for several days and I will not disturb him for frivolous things."

"And Talokan being in danger?" Shuri's voice is cutting. "Would you consider that frivolous?" 

"Talokan has defeated the surface. The Resistance is vanquished. Your nephew's rebellion was crushed. What threat is left?" 

The way Namora looks Shuri up and down makes it clear who she thinks is a threat. 

Shuri explains the situation. As she speaks, she sees Namora growing more uneasy. For the first time, Shuri sees fear in her eyes. 

"Do you know the location of the poison?" Namora demands.

"I do, but I want to ask something of you before you tell your King."

"Let me guess," Namora spits, glaring at Shuri, "you will only tell us if we release your traitorous nephew?"

"No," Shuri replies, her face impassive. "I will tell you regardless."

Shuri rises from her throne and moves to stand before Namora. She activates the kimoyo bead and a 4D blue map of the planet appears, red dots hovering over the locations of the poisons. 

Namora looks at her in confusion.

Shuri has just handed over all of her bargaining power, and now all she can do is make requests. 

"I have never wanted you or your people to suffer and I will not use your lives as currency. All I ask is that when you speak to Namor ask that he spare Yucatán. They have no involvement with this. They want to live their lives peacefully and have worked hard to survive and rebuild what they have lost." Quietly, Shuri adds, "Please."

Namora clutches the bead, shutting off the hologram. 

"K’uk’ulkan," Namora corrects, but there is no venom now. 

Namora turns and leaves without another word. 

For the next two weeks Shuri does not see Namor or Namora. 

She learns from Attuma that the reservoirs have been taken over by the Talomanil. It is a victory that comes with heavy losses. Namor will remain in Talokan to carry out funerals and hold a celebration in the fallens honour. 

It takes a few weeks more but Shuri is able to create a formula that nulls the poison. She has it mass-produced and sent to the reservoirs. 

For the next few weeks, she busies herself with wedding planning and ruling Wakanda. 

She does not visit Toussaint. 

Nor does she see Okoye. 

After a month, Namor summons her. 

Bathed in the amber glow of the high noon sun, Namor waits for her by the river. He sits on a washed-up log, staring out at the waters. When he hears her approach, he gestures for Shuri to take a seat beside him. 

"The poison has been neutralised thanks to your counter formula. Those involved have been dealt with," Namor says, the darkness in his voice assuring that no mercy had been given. It softens as he says, "You can rest your heart. I have not flooded Yucatán."

Shuri nods, a little weight lifted off her shoulder.

They sit in silence, listening to the lapping of the water and the songs of birds. There is a tree beside them and the fanned-out branches gift them patches of shadows to hide from the heat. 

"We never would have found the poison if you had not provided us with the map. We had no idea about their existence," Namor admits, his voice strained. "If you hadn't told us they may have had the chance to slaughter my children."

Namor's hands are clasped between his legs and Shuri notices how his fingers tighten, how his shoulders tense with rage at the thought of harm befalling his people. She is glad she was not there when Namora told him about The Resistance's plan. She has seen his fury many times but does not want to imagine what it had been like then. 

"I cannot thank you enough. My children know what you have done for them and are eternally grateful. They look forward to welcoming you as their Queen." Namor looks at her curiously. "You could have bargained that information for your nephew's life. Namora thought you would and admits she would have been compelled to do so." 

"I could have, but I'm not going to play with your people's lives like that. I don't want to put any more nations at risk."

Namor kneels before her, tentatively taking her hands in his. He clasps their fingers. 

"How can I repay you for protecting my people?" Namor asks, his eyes are soft and fond. "Anything you want that is within my power to give, I will." 

"You cannot give me what I want," Shuri whispers. 

"If it is your nephew's release, then no. I cannot take that risk." 

"I know that if Toussaint is released, he will try to defeat Talokan again and people will die in the conflict," Shuri admits with a heavy heart. "I do not want that." 

"You will allow me to execute him?" Namor asks, surprised. 

"Of course not!" Shuri says, appalled. "I don't want him to die. He is my nephew. My brother and my sister-in-law's only child. He is the only family that I have left."

"He is not your only family," Namor looks at their entwined fingers. "Not anymore. You have me." 

"I will not accept you as my family if you take him from me," Shuri replies, her eyes hardening. 

"Then what do you suggest?" Namor asks irritably. "You admit he is a threat to our Kingdoms but do not want me to eliminate that threat. I will not let him live out his days in a cell, knowing there is a chance that one day he could escape and cause harm to my children. Death is the only way to ensure peace."

"It isn't. I thought of another way."

Please, Shuri thinks, forgive me for this T'Challa. Forgive me for not being able to protect your child. 

"When I was a little girl, you gave me a potion that erased my memories of my time in Talokan. We could give it to Toussaint and send him to Yucatán to live his life."

"My children died by his hand," Namor growls, letting go of Shuri's hands as he stands. "He caused a war and played a part in the plans to wipe out all of Talokan! And you ask me to let him go?" 

"Did I not do the same?" Shuri points out as she rises to her feet. "I declared war on Talokan after you killed my mother. I refused an alliance. I fought against you for years. Yet here I stand, soon to be your wife and Queen of Talokan!"

Namor's jaw clenches and he looms over her. His eyes are frightfully intense, dark pools that enrapture those foolish enough to look too long. 

"I know I am asking a lot, but after everything that you have taken from me, can you truly not give me this one thing? Without his memories, he is no threat to you. And is this not a punishment in itself? Taking everything that he is? Is that not a death of some kind too?"

It was a vicious fate that tore at Shuri's soul, worse knowing she was the one who had it suggested.

Toussaint would not remember that Wakanda was his home and that he was their Prince. He would forget his family. His childhood. Every happy memory.  

He would forget his father, his mother, Okoye, Attuma and herself. Everyone who had ever meant something to him would be gone in an instant. 

He would not know who he was.

He would be alone.

But he would forget his desire for revenge too. And even if it stirred he would think himself no one of importance, not a Prince who could inspire armies. He would not have Wakanda's resources - Wakanda would lead to believe he was dead, killing any lingering hopes of rebellions. 

It was a vile fate but it would keep him alive.

That was all she could do for him while keeping Wakanda and Talokan safe too.  

Her burden to bare as a Queen. 

"If, I agree," Namor begins carefully, his eyes darkening, "then I need you to understand that should he ever regain his memories or causes any issue for Talokan again, there will be no mercy. I will kill him myself without hesitation."

Shuri swallows and nods her head.

"He won't."

"He will not drink the potion willingly."

"I'll make sure that he does."

Namor looks at her with pity. "You are setting yourself up for pain, My Queen."

"There was going to be pain either way."

Toussaint is brought to the docks where a ship called Charon awaits. It is of European make, purposely weathered and battered to give it the appearance of an older vessel that has been lost at sea, though it is functional and stocked with supplies. 

Yucatán will be led to believe that they have survived all these years by living off the sea until they came across Yucatán by chance. It was rare for new survivors to find the islands, but not unheard of - the last one had been two years prior. 

Toussaint will not be alone. 

Okoye has decided to go with him. 

In the distance, Shuri spots Okoye and Attuma on the beach. They stand close together, foreheads resting against each other. Bidding each other their final goodbyes. 

This was not the outcome either had wanted. Attuma had been more accepting. Okoye's rage had been unconquerable and Shuri knew there would be no repairing their friendship before they parted. Okoye thought Shuri's compromise monstrous. 

Shuri agreed. 

Not only was she stripping her nephew of everything that he was, but it was her fault Okoye was leaving Wakanda. A nation Okoye had devoted her life to protecting. And whatever relationship Okoye had with Attuma, that too was meeting its end. For when Okoye and Toussaint arrive in Yucatán, Okoye would never be able to see Attuma again. If she was spotted conversing with a Talokanil, it could put her and Toussaint in danger. 

Shuri stands by the ship. Toussaint is brought towards her, his hands are cuffed and he is flanked by two Taloknail warriors.  

"What is going on?" Toussaint demands to know. 

"You are going to Yucatán."

Shuri enters the ship, Toussaint and his guards following. Once inside she takes a seat at the small dining table. Toussaint is released from his cuffs and the guards leave, the door bolting shut behind them.

Toussaint rubs his wrists and sits at the opposite side of the table. There are a selection of cakes and a steaming pot of herbal tea. 

"You actually convinced him to let me live?" Toussaint looks at her suspiciously. Shuri doesn't care to know what he is imagining. "What did that cost you?"

Shuri ignores him and pours him some of the tea. She passes the cup over to him. Her own cup is already full and she sips from it.

"Nothing you have to worry about," Shuri replies.

Toussaint lifts the cup to his lips and drinks. He looks down at the cup in surprise.

"How do you know how I like my tea?" 

"I don't," Shuri shrugs, sipping her own. "I made it how my brother liked it."

Toussaint falls quiet. He nibbles at the cakes - more of T'Challa's favourites; Chikenduza, lime cakes and hertzoggies - and looks out the port window thoughtfully.

"I am sorry that I did not get to know you," Shuri rues. "I wish I had. Maybe I could have protected you better." 

And I would not be left with resentment towards those I love and yearn for. 

Now their memories were forever tainted. 

"Okoye spoke to me after our first meeting. She scolded me for how I spoke to you," Toussaint sighs. "Attuma too. He told me that Wakanda would be washed away if it wasn't for your marriage to Namor. That I wasn't fully appreciating how dangerous things had become for Wakanda. I do not like this, but... I understand that you are doing it to save Wakanda."

They don't sound like easy words for him to admit. Toussaint puts his cup down. 

"There were many who thought you a hero for fighting against Talokan, even after the alliance had been made. I wanted to be like you. To make you and Father proud. But when you said you would marry him I was furious. I thought you were giving up." Toussaint's eyes are full of pain and regret. "I see now you were doing what you have always done. Protecting Wakanda."

"Sometimes we can't protect what we love with weapons and fists."

Toussaint nods, a reluctant look on his face. 

"That was all I was trying to do with helping construct the poison reservoirs. I thought about what you said... and I think... you are right. I was naive to think others would not use the poison. I just-" Toussaint stumbles over his words, then sighs. "I was desperate to save everyone."

"I know," Shuri says softly. 

"You are still angry."

She was. He had been so foolish and reckless and it had almost led to so much death. It scared Shuri, how close that demise had been. And a part of her can not help but resent that the peace she had found on Yucatán was gone because of him. 

"As are you," Shuri points out. 

He may be trying to mend bridges, but Shuri knew he was still angry with her choices, even as he tried to understand. 

"I am trying to put our differences aside. I know you do not know me, but I have heard nothing but stories of you. Even if you weren't physically here, it's you who has inspired so much of what I am," Toussaint says earnestly. "The brightest mind of Wakanda. The Princess who fought and was hunted by The Feathered Serpent God and lived to tell the tale."

Shuri feels tears in her eyes. She tries to subtly rub them away. Her heart feels like it is racing faster than a gazelle in a chase. It hurts. It hurts to look at Toussaint, knowing what she has done. 

Toussaint yawns. He shakes his head and rubs his eyes. "Sorry. I am very tired all of a sudden."

Toussaint sips more of his tea. 

Shuri looks away. 

"My mother said you were good at keeping secrets."

And yet she didn't trust me with you.

"I have another name. Toussaint is my name in Haiti; that was where my mother raised me before we left for Wankanda during The Great Flood. T'Challa, Prince of Wakanda is my true name."

T'Challa.

After his father. After her brother. King of Wakanda. The Black Panther. With such a legacy as his namesake, how could Toussaint not have gone to such lengths to prove himself worthy? 

"I will never forget it," Shuri promises, a single tear escaping down her cheek. 

"I will find a way to make this right, Auntie Shuri. I know you think all is lost, but I will find a way to save you. I promise."

Shuri reaches over the table and places her hand over his.

"Toussaint, marrying Namor is not to buy Wakanda time to be saved. This is how it is saved." Shuri squeezes his hand, her voice breaking. "All I want is for you to find happiness." 

Toussaint yawns again. This time, he slouches forward and barely catches himself on the table. He raises a hand to his head. His eyes are glazed.

"Sorry, I-" Slowly, Toussaint looks to the cup of tea and then to the pot. "The tea..."

Shuri's drink had not come from the pot. For in the pot's brew of honeybush tea, she had added Namor's elixir. One that stripped a person of their memories. In Toussaint's case, it would be all of them. 

"Auntie... what have you done?" Toussaint slurs. 

"What I needed to."

To protect you.

To protect Wakanda.

To protect Talokan.

I'm so sorry. 

The look of betrayal in his eyes burns into Shuri's mind. He may forget her, but she will never forget that look. 

He falls asleep as T'Challa, Prince of Wakanda.

When he awakes, he will simply be Toussaint. 

Okoye is on the deck of the ship when Shuri leaves the cabin. She does not acknowledge Shuri and makes her way to the cabin. 

"I'm sorry, Okoye," Shuri pleads. "It was the only way that I could save him."

Okoye says nothing and walks away without a glance behind her. 

The door to the cabin shuts. 

Nightfall comes and Shuri does not move from her place on the dock. She had long since sent her Dora Milaje and the Talokanil Guards away, demanding to be left alone. She stares numbly at the horizon, where Toussaint and Okoye's ship had disappeared. Taking with it the last of her loved ones.

It is Namor who finally comes for her. 

"I warned you were setting yourself up for pain," Namor says, not unkindly, as he stands beside her. "There is only so much of that a heart can take."

"I feel like a monster," Shuri murmurs. 

"You kept him safe. For him to live it was the right thing to do."

"It doesn't feel like it," Shuri whispers, her voice strained. It doesn't matter what the reason was, she had betrayed her nephew. "I saved his life by taking it away."

She has lost her nephew and a beloved friend. 

It is like the breaking of a dam.

Her tears flood her eyes and rush down her cheeks. Her hands tremble uselessly at her sides. Her heart aches in such a wretched, agonising manner that she wants to rip it from her chest. She was sick of feeling like this. So sick of it. 

As quick as a striking snake, Namor wraps his arms around her, pulling her into a tight, protective embrace. Shuri buries her face into the softness of his white cloak, her sobs loud and pitiful. Her entire body shakes with each cry. 

Namor doesn't let her go. 

It is amid her tears, her face pressed against Namor's chest while his hand gently soothes her hair, that the heartbreaking truth truly hits her with the ferocity of a sledgehammer to the gut. 

Her loved ones are gone.

All expect Namor. 

Chapter Text

I'm getting married.

It is a bizarre thought. Tomorrow Shuri will be slipped into her wedding gown and escorted from the palace by a parade of people to the ocean. There, under the eyes of Wakanda and Talokan, she and Namor will be bound together as husband and wife. 

Then The Feathered Serpent God will take her to Talokan. 

Away from the surface.

Away from Wakanda.

Away from everything that she knew.

A fate she has fought for so long, she will now walk towards hand in hand with Namor. 

Shuri makes her way out of her room and towards the balcony. She rests her arms on the marble railing and stares up at the night sky.

The stars are bright tonight. Shuri will miss seeing them and being reminded of the tales her mother would tell her of them. She will miss the breeze stirring her hair and cooling her skin. The song of birds chirping in the rustling trees. The colours of the skies as the sun rises and sets. Come tomorrow, she will be whisked away to the darkest depths of the ocean, seldom to see them again. Bioluminescent fish will be her ever-changing constellations. The currents the winds she sways to. The ocean's pallets of green, blues and blacks will be her skies. The lullabies of the Taloknail her new songs. 

"You are up late, My Queen."

Shuri looks up at the sound of Namor's voice. She watches as he descends from the sky, the wings on his ankles fluttering quickly. He hovers close and rests his arms on the balcony, unbothered by the staggering drop to the shadowy canopy of trees below him. His face is close, but Shuri remains where she stands, not wanting to seem unnerved by his presence. 

She had a feeling he would visit her tonight. 

"You know in some cultures it is considered bad luck to see the bride before the wedding?" Shuri drawls. 

"With you as my bride, how could I be expected to deny myself the sight of you when you are close by?" Namor asks, reaching to tuck a braid behind her ear. 

Sweet talker, Shuri muses.

She swats his hand away. 

Namor smiles in amusement before a carefully neutral expression takes its place. 

"I have come with good tidings. Your warrior Okoye and nephew have arrived safely in Yucatán. The people welcomed them warmly and have provided them with a comfortable home." 

"That is good to know," Shuri says, her voice strained.

It doesn't make her feel any better about their situation. The last few weeks she has lost many nights' sleep, dwelling over the terrible fate of her nephew and friend - fates that she had inflicted upon them. At the very least she knows they are safe and sheltered. And within time she can convince Namor to let her get updates on them through his spy network. 

"Is that all?" 

"Perhaps I missed you," Namor says softly. 

"You will be seeing plenty of me in Talokan." If the bitterness in her voice is obvious, Namor does not comment on it. 

"I have a gift for you," Namor declares. "The final part of your dowry. I wished to give it to you myself."

"There was more than enough," Shuri chides softly. 

Namor hums thoughtfully, a look of disagreement on his face. "You underestimate your worth."

Shuri rolls her eyes. "You can quit the sweet talk while you are behind. It does not work on me."

Namor propels himself over the balcony. He stands beside her and then presents her with an all too familiar bracelet; the one she had left behind in Wakanda all those years ago, the one he had tied around her wrist when she had demanded to be brought to Talokan to try and save Riri. Her heart aches at the sight of the exquisite piece of jewellery and the feelings it invokes. Not just for Namor, but for his mother too. 

The woman whose mural Shuri had destroyed, who had hand-sewed dresses for a daughter-in-law she would never meet, who had seen what horrors her son would unleash and loved him still. A once Princess forced to abandon all that she knew for a life within the ocean, a world strange and unknown to her that she bravely faced head-on. A woman Shuri feels an odd connection to, despite never having met her. Another kindred soul who would understand the pain of the paths that Shuri has taken.  

"Your mother's bracelet."

"I want you to wear this again if it pleases you. As a token of our commitment to one another." Namor fastens the bracelet to her wrist, his hands lingering on her skin. "After tomorrow we will be bound to one another as husband and wife. It is a commitment that I do not take lightly."

"Do you think I will?"

"No, I know you more than anyone understands the importance of our union. That said, you are known to be flighty when it concerns me."

"I am not going to run away." I can't. Not anymore. "I am the one who suggested the marriage, remember?"

"Perhaps not physically, but I wonder how long you will run from what is in your heart?" Namor asks, tilting his head. "How long you will deny yourself what it seeks?"

You mean how long will I deny you? Shuri thinks. 

"You want me to accept you as my husband in the fullest sense?" To put aside everything that had happened, to let them be the family he promised he could give her. To not let this marriage be just a political union, but one of love and affection. "You ask too much."

"I will not deny wanting you to love me openly and to allow me the same privilege. I want to bring you happiness in every way imaginable. I know that you want it as much as I do but you want to punish me and spare yourself the guilt that torments you when you allow your guard to fall around me." Namor sighs and lets go of her hands. "Run from your feelings if you must, but know that my word remains true. I will always wait for you, Shuri."

Shuri is the first to look away.

Namor smiles sadly and then takes to the skies, vanishing among the twilight. 

The first thing Shuri sees on the morning of her wedding is her wedding gown. It has been dressed on a mannequin across from her bed, the rising sunlight glittering off the jewels and beaded embroidery.

It is a sombre reminder of what day it is. A day that seems more dream than reality. The day of her wedding. A day that should be filled with joy and celebration, is instead filled with a convoluted mix of unsettling feelings. 

She could have still been in Yucatán. Safe and free and away from Namor and the responsibilities of the crown. But such options are beyond reach now. Now she is to be the bride of her enemy. The salvation of her nation. A Queen to not one but two countries.  

Shuri sits up in her bed and stares at her dress. 

Neither The Talokanil nor Wakandan Matchmaker had gotten their way, Shuri had decided to choose her dress and colours. 

Black as night for The Black Panther.

Purple embellishments for Wakanda. 

It was an empire-style gown with a flaring skirt that will trail behind her as she walks, the skirt embroidered with lavender beads, jewels and lace; for each arm, there were three string sleeves made of purple sapphires; below the bust where the skirt begins, there are silver panther claws in honour of The Black Panther. She will wear Queen Fen's bracelet on her wrist and Queen Ramonda's purple jewelled necklace around her throat. 

Two servants come to help Shuri get ready for the ceremony. 

They help her into her gown, put her hair into an elaborate updo with purple flowers and pearls weaved within it and then apply her make-up. Shuri lets them do what they must without a word.

She can't stop thinking of the two women who should be here, helping her with this as was tradition. Her mother and Aunt would have sewn her a wedding dress. They would have been here to style her hair and apply her make-up, all the while laughing and crying and sharing tales of their own wedding days. T'Challa might have made an appearance, promising to threaten her husband-to-be if he stepped out of line, only to be chided by their mother who would tell them she had already personally done so. 

There are no smiles, jokes or laughter here.

Not even the servants dare utter a word. There is a somberness to their movements, like they are preparing her for a funeral and not a wedding. 

Once they are finished they leave Shuri by the floor-length mirror. 

"I know you wouldn't be happy with this mother," Shuri whispers to no one. "But I have to do this for Wakanda."

Her mother would never have approved of this wedding. She would have fought with everything that she had to prevent it, refusing to let her last remaining child marry someone like Namor, no matter how beneficial the alliance was. It would not be the first war she had waged for her daughter. 

Shuri wonders what her father would have done, had he been in her mother's position. Her father had been willing to do anything to protect Wakanda, even kill his brother and abandon his nephew. There were probably many terrible things her father had done that she would never learn of. Things that would never let her look at him the same way again. Things she knew her mother had cried about for many nights, once certain truths came to light. 

As Shuri looks in the mirror, it is not her mother she sees in herself anymore.

It is her father. 

A man who was willing to do anything to protect Wakanda, even at the cost of his own family and happiness. 

Shuri makes her way through the palace, her faithful Dora Milaje walking beside her. 

When they reach the hanger bay where a vessel awaits them, Shuri takes a moment to stand on the ledge and stare out at Wakanda. Far below, she notices a large crowd of people have amassed outside the palace. They do not cheer or jeer or hold banners of any kind. Shuri is surprised that they came; even those that supported the marriage do not look at it as something to celebrate but something to be tolerated. 

When the crowd spots her, they raise their arms across their chests in the Wakandan salute. 

"They know the reason we live is because of you and your sacrifice," The Captain of her Dora Milaje steps beside her to explain. "They are showing their thanks."

It helps a little, to know that her people understand that she is doing what must be done, that she is trying to protect them. 

With a sad smile, Shuri raises her arms across her chest, returning the gesture. 

The wedding ceremony will be held on the coast, hidden away in a cove. 

Normally, Wakandan royal weddings were held in the palace and all were welcome to attend, while festivals and parades carried on outside. It will not be so for this one for a variety of reasons. Tension between the two nations was still unbearably high. Although The Rebellion Leaders had been executed - and Toussaint secreted away and without his memories - and those involved were dead, punished or imprisoned, there were still many who supported The Rebellion and were concealing their feelings for now. Perhaps they had given up, but there was still the chance of people attempting to sabotage the wedding or attacking those involved. 

To prevent further international conflicts, only The Elders and a hundred or so of the most trusted citizens of both nations were invited and the wedding's location was kept from public knowledge. 

When Shuri arrives at the wedding location, she is taken aback by how beautiful the scene is. 

Amidst a backdrop of jungle mountains, where two mighty waterfalls plummet into a pool of water that leads to the sea, The Rulers of Wakanda and Talokan will wed. The cliffs are bursting with blooming flowers and draping vines. Stepping stones lead to a pedestal of stairs nestled between the two waterfalls and is guarded by the impressive statues of a black panther and a coil-feathered serpent. At the top of the staircase, the Wakadan and Talokanil Priests await to begin the ceremony, both dressed in their ceremonial attire. Along the edges of the pool of water and within the waters are the Wakadans and Talokanil that were invited to watch the ceremony. 

Shuri leaves the aircraft and makes her way to the water, taking a stand under an arch of flowers. 

Not far from her, a band of musicians play music that has taken inspiration from both nations. 

It is not long before the first drops of rain fall from the sky and the wind changes direction.

From the clouds, a terrifying roar quakes the Earth.  

The Feathered Serpent God has arrived. 

Namor breaks through the clouds and spirals towards the ground in dizzying and theatrical loops, his feathers wildly swaying in the wind. When he lands, his massive form shakes the ground with a mighty boom. Shuri can hear everyone's excited and startled murmurs; for many, this is their first time seeing Namor in his serpent form. It is a daunting, humbling sight and Shuri can see why he chose this form to appear in. This was a display of power and might, to show Wakanda the power they were receiving through this marriage, and to remind them of the danger that he presented should they cross him. 

He was also showing off. 

"Show pony," Shuri whispers, knowing he will hear. 

Namor sticks his long tongue out at her, eyes glittering with amusement. He rears his neck high into the air, feathers flared out in an impressive display, reminding Shuri of a fancy peacock posing for its intended. The wind begins to pick up pace, a flurry of leaves sweeping through the cove. Shuri shields her eyes with her arms and when she lowers them Namor is in his human form, though looking no less impressive than before. 

She hates how she feels herself freeze in place. 

He looks unbearably handsome. 

He is wearing an elaborate headdress in the shape of a serpent's face with long white feathers sprouting from the back of it. His shoulders have silver arm guards with serpent faces too. His cape is white as snow and trails across the ground, held together by a chain of pearls that drape across his chest. On his arms, wrists and legs are decorative jade bands. Instead of his signature green shorts, he wears a white loin cloth with intricate green beading. 

The fondness in which he looks at her, makes her heart flutter. 

Namor offers her his hand. 

Shuri hesitates for only a moment and then takes it. 

Together they walk across the standing stones as their people watch, climb the stairs and reach the altar.

The music halts as the priests raise their hands for silence. So that all present can understand, the Priests take turns speaking in their native language; first the Wakandan Preist and then the Talokanil Priest. Their voices boom across the cove. 

"We welcome all on this sacred day to rejoice in the union of not only two hearts and souls, but of the two most powerful nations the world has ever known!" The Wakandan Priest declares. "The King of Talokan, The Feathered Serpent God, He Who Brings The Wind And Rain, Gifter of The Sun, Protector of All Talokanil, Ah K'uk'ulkan, First Born Child of Talokan-"

Shuri glances discreetly at Namor and quirks an eyebrow.

How many epithets does one man need?

"-will take Queen Shuri of Wakanda as his bride and Queen. As she will take him, as her husband and King, under the eyes of Bast and Chaac," The Priest declares. He turns to the Talokanil Priest, allowing him to repeat what has been said for the Talokanil to hear. 

"I should have made up some extra titles to make it sound more impressive," Shuri mutters.

Namor leans closer, voice hushed for only her to hear, "I can think of several to give you, but I do not think you would like me to say them with an audience."

Her long dress lets her discreetly kick his ankle, ruffling his feathers. 

The Priests take turns giving lengthy speeches about the great fortunes that the marriage will bring; how it will encourage harmony, restore peace and bring bountiful prosperity to both nations for generations to come, and that The King and Queen will usher in a new era that all present are privileged to be apart of. Shuri tries to listen, but much like the Matchmaker before them, they both know how to prattle on in the most cringe-worthy of manners for the longest of times. 

Why had no one let her pre-approve these speeches? 

Shuri counts the minutes as they go by, bored and embarrassingly aware of how sweaty her hand was getting while Namor held it. 

Once various traditions from both Wakanda and Talokan are carried out, the priests turn to the couple and ask them to speak their oaths to each other. 

Shuri is the first to go. She takes in a deep breath and turns to face Namor, taking his other hand in hers. 

"I am honoured to take you as my husband," Shuri says, projecting her voice so all could hear. "I entrust you to be my King. May you help me care for Wakanda and take my people as your own, as I will accept yours as mine. I will protect and cherish them for as long as I live."

Sweet, simple and straight to the point, just as Shuri had wanted. 

When Namor speaks, he does not stick to the script.

"I am honoured to take you as my wife and Goddess. My heart will accept no other but yours. The stars are but fickle fireflies compared to the passion that burns in my soul for you. I entrust you to be my Queen. May you help me care for Talokan and take my people as your own, as I will accept yours as mine. I will protect and cherish them for as long as I live. As I will for you as well."

Shuri feels like her heart is about to erupt from her chest. 

Knowing what comes next does not help. 

Namor steps forward and lowers his head, waiting for her to close the distance and finish the ceremony with a kiss.

Shuri licks her lips, her eyes darting to the watching crowds. She has kissed Namor many times and done things far less innocent than a kiss, but to do it in front of so many people?

Namor must see her struggle and decides to take pity on her. He smiles and tilts his head in such a way that the long feathers of his headdress shield their faces from view. His kiss is mercifully quick, a shadow of all that came before it. A shadow of all that is to come, if the intensity of his eyes is anything to go by. 

The couple turn to their people who erupt into applause and cheers. 

The music begins again, this time a tune of celebration and victory. 

To finish off and as a sign of unity, Namor and Shuri conduct each other's nations' national salutes. 

Namor crosses his arms over his chest and bellows, "Wakanda forever!"

Shuri raises her hands and joins them at the wrists then shouts, "Rise Talokan!" 

"Does the ocean still scare you?" 

Namor's words are a whisper against Shuri's ear.

The royal couple stands on the edge of a cliff overlooking the ocean. From boats, fireworks are lit and set the night sky ablaze with colourful bursts of light, in honour of their marriage. The Talokanil watch from the oceans while the Wakandans stand along the edge of the cliff.

"Yes," Shuri admits. 

"Even though you are now it's Queen?" 

"Especially now."

How strange it is, that the safest place for her to be is also the most dangerous. In the realm that consumed the world. The ocean is a terrifying beast. Namor had shown her that. She had fought against the waves that swallowed cities. Had endured its vastness and suffered the isolation it could subject someone to. She had seen it sweep away billions of lives. It was an entity that demanded to be respected as it was feared.

But more so what lurked within its depth. 

A God and the love in his heart for his people which set the world ablaze. 

Once the fireworks are finished, Namor transforms into his serpent form and allows Shuri to climb onto his back. Shuri watches with a heavy heart as Wakanda becomes but a speck in the distance before the cold waters of the ocean devour her. 

The Talokanil are waiting for them when they arrive in Talokan.

Thousands lift their hands in the Talokanil salute, welcoming their King and Queen. 

Shuri returns it.

For their first meal as a married couple, Namor takes Shuri to the hut in the underwater caverns. After their meal is finished, a handmaiden enters the hut carrying a tray with two pots and two cups. She places them on the table, bows her head respectfully, and then leaves. 

"Tea?" Shuri asks. 

"Of a sort." Namor gestures to the different hieroglyphics on the clay pots. "This one is a contraceptive and the other is a fertility medicine. The couple chooses which they would prefer then offer each other the cup to drink while holding it."

"What makes you think we'll need either of them?" Shuri raises an eyebrow. 

"I am merely explaining what they are. I would not presume such a thing. Come, you must be tired. I will take you to your wing of the palace-"

"Most weddings are only considered legitimate if they are consummated."

"That is not so in Talokan," Namor assures her. "Some of my children lack such desires yet seek the companionship of a spouse. Such marriages are just as valid. You do not have to force yourself to do anything you do not want to. You are Queen. Remember that."

Namor moves to leave the room, but Shuri's hand grasps his cape, holding him back. He looks over his shoulder then down to her hand. 

"And if I wanted it?" Shuri asks quietly. 

Namor stills.

Finally, he says, "If that is what you want, truly what you want, then I would not deny you it for I long for it as well. But I want you to think about it carefully. I do not want you hating yourself for allowing yourself what you want."

That was an inevitability, one she was already used to. She had been riddled with self-loathing for years over her feelings for him and did not think it was possible they would ever go away. It felt like a punishment, one she would forever be forced to bare.

But Bast damn it, even with those feelings she had fought against him with everything that she had.

She had tried her hardest to stop his plans, dedicated nearly twenty years of her life to that pursuit, all the while fighting feelings she had not wanted and would dispel herself of if she had the chance. She had given up her life on Yucatán, a peaceful, quiet life where she could have lived out the rest of her days without tremendous burdens weighing her down. She had stolen her nephew's memories - her last family member, the only part of her brother that she had left  - to protect Wakanda and Talokan, losing her last friend in the process and raining misery upon said friend's life. 

She had given, sacrificed and endured so much. 

Was it wrong of her to want this one thing for herself? 

To find some happiness, some peace, within her life?

He was all she had left. 

And she wanted him. 

Shuri reaches for the contraceptive pot and pours the tea into the two cups. She lifts one to Namor's lips and he helps her guide it to his mouth by placing his hands over hers. Together, they pour the liquid down his throat. Namor licks his lips then picks up the remaining cup, bringing it to Shuri's lips. She drinks it. Once the cup is down, she steps on her tippy toes to kiss him, but Namor halts her by resting his forehead against her own.

"Not here."

"Then where?" Shuri huffs. 

Namor grins, a sly look in his eyes.

It does not surprise Shuri when he takes her to the throne room in the heart of Talokan.

She still remembers the dream he had confessed to her; how the first time he takes her will be on his throne with her on his lap, his seed dripping down her thighs. 

Seeing the throne sends a dark, excited thrill down Shuri's stomach.

The throne looms before them, perched high on a pedestal, basking under the vibranium sun that Namor had crafted to bring his people light in the darkness of the ocean. The seat is ruby red, nestled between the impressive open jaw of a megalodon shark. Along the side of the jaw, hieroglyphs are carved, reading the words 'this jade jaw bites'.

Shuri wonders if Namor will prove the threat true across her body. 

"That chair does not look comfortable for this," Shuri muses, one hand reaching out to stroke a shark tooth - it is as sharp as it looks. 

"It will not be the throne you are sitting on, My Queen."

Shuri's breath hitches. Her cheeks feel like they are on fire. Her heart beats faster when Namor slips behind her and kisses the back of her neck, his skilful fingers untying the laces at the back of her dress. Shuri feels the dress loosen, held up only by Namor's grip and her own hands. 

"You are sure that this is what you want?" Namor asks. 

Namor lets go of his hold on her dress, allowing it to fall loose, exposing her back to him. Shuri's modesty remains hidden only by her grip. She licks her lips, takes in a deep breath, and allows the dress to fall. It floats to the bottom of the throne room, leaving her completely exposed. In the vastness of the chamber, she feels vulnerable and aware of her nudity. She wants to snatch the dress back before it is completely out of reach.

But then Namor slides his hands down her arms and lightly presses his body to her back, leaning forward to kiss the side of her neck. 

"Let me see you," Namor breathes. 

When Shuri hesitates, Namor slips his arms around her waist and turns her to look at him, his eyes travelling the length of her body. It is a mix of reverence, longing and utter adoration in his eyes, a look that makes her feel desirable and bolder.  

Shuri reaches up and removes the golden headdress from his head. She takes in the intricate detailing of the serpent's head; the sleek white feathers that sway from the back, dark sapphire eyes, and carefully carved scales. Softly, she places a lingering kiss on the creature's snout. She can feel Namor's gaze burning her, entranced by what she is doing. Carefully, she places the heavy headdress upon the steps that lead to the throne. 

Namor is quick to capture her lips in a bruising kiss. 

Shuri does not let his mouth distract her as her fingers search for the knots that tie his loincloth, clumsily untying them as quickly as she can. Namor unclasps his cloak as she does so, and together, the two pieces of clothing glide to the staircase below.

With him finally completely bare before her, save for his jewellery, Shuri breaks the kiss and looks down, curious to see what he looks like without that final barrier. His outfits have never left much to the imagination, and although her fingers have grasped the thick length of him before, she had not seen it so clearly. He is far more well-endowed than she realized and already hard.  

Namor takes her by the hand and floats backwards, taking a seat on his throne. 

Shuri sits on his lap, her knees on either side of his thighs. She puts her hands on his shoulders and teasingly brushes herself against his cock, enjoying the way Namor groans. 

"You once told me that you did not need me," Namor's voice is husky with want, his eyes intense as they lock with hers. Darkness creeps into his voice, "Did you ever find someone to replace me in your heart? Did you ever welcome another into your bed?"

"There were plenty who pursued me," Shuri admits, aligning herself with Namor's cock. Slowly, she lowers herself onto him, taking him in inch by inch with needy gasps, her eyes closing. It wasn't comfortable, so she takes her time to adjust to the intrusion. She can hear Namor hiss, his chest heaving as he restrains himself and lets her take him at her own pace. "But I never bothered with any of them."

When Shuri opens her eyes, she finds Namor staring at where their bodies meet, watching as she sinks into his cock. His hands are exploring her body, leaving trails of goosebumps where he touches her. When he is fully sheathed inside her, he whispers her name like a prayer. 

"They weren't the one that I wanted," Shuri tells him. 

He fits inside her perfectly and for a moment of dizzy ecstasy, she could almost believe the nonsense that The Talokanil Matchmaker had spewed of how she and Namor had been made for each other. There is a feeling of completeness with him inside her, an utter, delicious rightness that demands to be savoured. 

"Good." Namor's eyes hold a warning menace within them as he says, "I would have slaughtered anyone who stole a piece of your heart from me."

"Don't speak like that," Shuri scolds, even as it sends a wanton rush through her at his possessiveness.  

"It is the truth. We belong to each other and no other. Besides, I think that you relish my devotion and the knowledge that you have enraptured a God so thoroughly." Tentatively, Namor thrusts his hips upwards - once, twice, three times - earning him a strained gasp from Shuri at the new sensation. "It makes you feel powerful... alluring... loved." 

Shuri raises herself off his cock part way, then slides back down. It is uncomfortable at first, but as she gains confidence with every slide, she feels the first wisps of tantalising thrills of pleasure that promise an approaching bliss. Namor meets her with every move, jutting his hips upwards to meet hers. 

"Tell me who was it that you wanted," Namor demands. "Tell me who it was that made you forsake every fool who thought they had a chance at your love."

Shuri gasps as his angle hits the perfect spot, her mouth falling open in a pleasure that was almost painful. 

"Will you lie to me as you have tried before?" Namor pants. "Will you tell me that I don't have your devotion as you do mine?"

Shuri kisses him hard, wanting him to shut up. 

He has her devotion. 

She has never stopped thinking about him since the day he emerged from the river. Whether it be in curiosity, admiration, lust, burning fury or hurt, he has been a plague upon her thoughts that has no cure. Her dreams are an agonising mix of memories and fantasies. She has come undone on her fingers with the thought of his cock filling her. She had spent years fighting him and plotting his downfall. He was her beloved as much as he was her enemy. Whether it be devoted to his destruction or devoted to the could-have-been-s between them, he has always had her devotion. 

And she knows she has his.

This God who has chased and waited for her and would accept no other but her. 

"You," Shuri breaks the kiss and whispers against his mouth. "It's always been you that I've wanted." 

Shuri wraps her arms around his neck and rocks her hips more vigorously against his groin. Her breasts rub against his chest as she leans in to kiss him again and again, each kiss more desperate than the last. She lets his tongue into her mouth to meet her own and had their kisses occurred on land, they would have robbed her of any breath. 

Namor parts their lip to make promises for the next time that they make love upon a throne. That it will be hers and he will have her dressed in nothing but strings of pearls around her neck and hips, with a crown of seashells on her head. How he will kneel before her and she will spread her thighs wide, allowing him to lavish her cunt with the attention it deserves. How he will not stop until she is limp with exhaustion and can think of the torment his tongue can bring and her throat is hoarse from screaming his name. 

"I could bend you over my throne and take you from behind? Would you like that, My Queen?"

Shuri moans at the thought, attempting to kiss him only for him to move his lips out of reach. 

Snake, she thinks. 

"There are so many ways I wish to have you," Namor sighs. "So many things I wish to teach you. I do not know how I was able to satisfy myself for so long without you. The hands of a God are nothing compared to the warmth of your cunt."

The filthy words make Shuri shudder with desire. 

He trails off as Shuri's hands slide to his chest, fingers splayed across his muscles. Her lips find his neck and she timidly tries what he had done to her years before. Open-mouthed kisses with her tongue lapping at his flesh. She slowly makes her way up to his right ear before biting the tip, as she has yearned to do for far too long. 

"Or perhaps you'll let me pleasure you on this throne?" Shuri murmurs into his ear, feeling daring. "With my hand... with my mouth..." 

Namor's hips jut into hers harshly, making her gasp. 

She can imagine it clearly.

Namor sitting on his throne dressed in all his finery; his serpent headdress with its mane of colourful feathers, glistening pearl and shell necklaces, his jade breastplate, and vibranium arm, leg, and shoulder guards. He would wear no shorts or decorative loincloth, his cock already free and hard and waiting for Shuri's lips. She would kneel before him and spread his thighs open before taking his cock into her mouth. All the while Namor would be grasping her hair, mouth open in ecstasy, groaning and grunting and jutting his hips towards her lips.  

Namor had been right, as ashamed to admit it as she is. There is something empowering about his devotion to her, something that makes her feel powerful and desirable in a different way from what she is. Something despicably thrilling and invigorating about thrusting herself upon the cock of the King and God who brought the world to its knees, who wants no one but her to be his bride and Queen, who chased her across the planet to have her. 

"I think," Namor grunts, "you will be far too tired for such things, once I am through with you."

"I'll hold you to that," Shuri challenges.

Namor laughs. 

Shuri can feel her orgasm approaching. It feels like she is on the edge of an ocean's dark abyss that promises nothing but pleasure. Namor is close too, she can tell from how he closes his eyes, all his attention focusing on the collision of their groins, their rhythm becoming less controlled and more frenzied as they frantically seek that perfect friction. 

"Tell me what I am to you. Tell me and I will give you what you need," Namor growls. "No more denying it, Shuri. Tell me what I am to you."

"My enemy... my lover," Shuri pulls his hair back, forcing him to look at her. She is breathless as she says, "My husband. My King."

Namor's hands are on her hips, thrusting her harder onto his erection.

Shuri lets out a wanton, anguished groan. 

"Tell me you need this."

"I need this," Shuri pleads. "I need you to come inside me. I need you, Namor." 

The throne room seems to shake under the intensity of the roar that rips free from Namor's throat as he reaches his climax. 

The feel of his seed inside her sends Shuri over the edge, waves of pleasure drowning her in ecstasy. None of her dreams had compared to this. She feels dizzy with the rush of it all. The blissfully euphoric swallowing her whole. Her vision seems to fade for a moment and when she comes to, Namor is looking at her with utter love, a smile as soft as twilight on his face.

Namor rests the back of his head on his throne and closes his eyes.

Shuri rests her cheek against his heaving chest, equally as breathless as he is.

Shuri feels content, exhausted and sated and unwilling to part their bodies just yet. The feeling of him inside her, large and filling, has been her secret desire for nearly twenty years. In this moment, she doesn't care how wrong it is, she just wants to savour the feeling of completeness, the oxymoron of how right this feels when she knows it is wrong, the satisfaction of her body, the feel of his come trickling down her skin. 

Idly, Shuri traces patterns along Namor's chest while watching the fish swimming by; eels, jellyfish and a school of blue fish. 

"I love you, Shuri," Namor confesses. "If you have it in your heart to give me one request, let it be that you will stay with me through the centuries. That you won't run away again. I do not think I could bare it now that I have you."

Shuri says nothing. 

She can feel him growing hard inside her again and before long they are once again a clash of lips and groins, chasing after the sweet pleasure from before. Shuri lets her mind succumb to the pleasures, but at the back of her mind, Namor's words sent a trickle of dread down her spine. A terrible thought had taken root, one that had fleetingly crossed her mind before but she had refused to entertain it. 

Something she would have to bring herself to look at. 

No matter how terrifying the thought was. 

"Namor, where are you taking me?" Shuri sighs.

Namor keeps his hands over her eyes, leading her through the cavern tunnels. 

"It is a surprise." Shuri can hear the grin in his voice. "You will need to learn more patience, My Love."

Finally, Namor allows her to see again. They are within a tunnel, one that leads to a large cavern up ahead. Shuri looks to Namor but he gestures for her to continue without him. She watches as he disappears the way they had come. Shuri looks ahead and begins walking. The closer she gets to the cavern, the more she can make out voices, speaking in Yucatec Maya. 

"K'uk'ulkan will not like this."

"K'uk'ulkan and I are friends! He will adore this!" 

Shuri frowns, her pace quickening. The first voice sounded like a boy, but the second voice sounded familiar; the voice of a girl, a little high-pitched and a tad bit mischievous. 

"You are not friends, you met him once."

"You are jealous." 

"Of what? You're imaginary friendship or your poor painting skills?" 

A gasp, followed by a shatter. 

Shuri hurries into the cavern, finding two young Talokanil, squabbling by a painted wall. The boy looks to be in his early twenties and wears a simple tunic and loincloth with a shark tooth necklace around his neck. He has his arm outstretched, his hand on a little girl's head, stopping her from trying to hit him with her fists. It is the little girl, perhaps a young teenager, that gives Shuri pause. 

"Cualli?" Shuri questions. 

"SHURI!" 

Cualli runs towards Shuri and throws her arms around her waist, burying her face into Shuri's shirt. Shuri wraps her arms around her too, squeezing her tightly. She has grown much taller since last they met, but she is not as old as Shuri thought she would be. Curiously, she wonders how much slower Talokanil age compared to surface people. 

"I missed you, Starfish," Shuri whispers. 

"I missed you too!" Cualli pulls away, a bright grin on her face.

"Cualli, you can not be so casual with The Queen of Talokan," the boy scolds. "You are embarrassing me!" 

Cualli rolls her eyes. "This is my big brother, Balam."

"Balam?" Shuri blinks. "You're not... the same boy from before, are you?"

The boy she had saved as a child, the one that led her to meeting Namor. 

Balam grins. "Ah, so you do remember me. I am honoured. I never got the chance to personally thank you for saving my life that day. But I will now." Balam raises his hands in the Talokan salute, bowing his head respectfully. "Thank you for saving me that day. And thank you for saving my troublesome little sister."

"You can not scold me for that! You did the same thing!" Cualli scoffs, stomping her foot.

"It was not the same thing. There was not a war going on when I snuck off!" 

"You are both troublemakers," Shuri chides. 

"Oh! Shuri!" 

"Queen Shuri," Balam hisses. "Manners, Cualli."

"It is fine," Shuri waves off his concerns. "I would prefer the both of you to call me Shuri when we are alone. There is no need for formalities among friends."

"I made you a painting to welcome you to Talokan!" Cualli declares, running over the wall. She made a flourishing gesture to present it. "My first painting!"

It was certainly a painting of... something. A large wiggly golden line with some kind of beak, plants sprouting from what Shuri presumed was its head. Two stick figures were below it, holding hands, standing on an iceberg or rock. 

"That's... beautiful," Shuri says, wincing at how unconvincing that sounded. 

"Liar, it is ugly," Balam quips. 

Shuri lightly shoves him. "Be nice."

"What even is it supposed to be?" Balam inquires. "A worm?" 

"It's K'uk'ulkan, Shuri and I!"  Cualli says as if it should be very clear. 

"That's K'uk'ulkan?" Balam practically shrieks, his eyes widening in mortification. "Get rid of it before he takes offence!"

"It is perfect! It will commemorate my first matchmaking success!"

Now it is Shuri who is glaring at Cualli. 

"Matchmaking success?" Balam asks, confused. 

"She tried to play matchmaker with me and... the King, several years ago," Shuri explains. "Her attempts were not subtle."

"Oh dear, Chaac," Balam groans, stomping his foot. "Cualli, have you no shame? You do not get to try and play matchmaker, certainly not with a God of all people!" 

Cualli gestures to Shuri. "Yet, they are now married. I was right."

Balam covers his eyes with his hands, careful to avoid his breathing apparatus. "I am so sorry for my shameless little sister." 

Shuri cannot help but laugh at how embarrassed Balam looks. "It's fine. And thank you Cualli for the... lovely painting."

For the rest of the day, the trio sit by the water, chatting and laughing and enjoying a selection of treats brought to them by a handmaiden. When it is time for them to leave, Cualli and Balam promise to visit her again.

"I look forward to it," Shuri smiles. 

Adapting to life in Talokan is not easy, but Shuri is nothing if not adaptable. 

Her throne is placed beside Namor's and it is there that they address their people as a united front whenever the occasion comes. During Council meetings, Shuri takes her place beside Namor, listening and offering her opinion on various matters; The Talokanil Elders are wary of her at first, but with every meeting, they grow more accustomed and welcoming of her presence. Unless there is an emergency, Shuri remains in Talokan and attends important meetings for Wakanda through holographic projectors.

Shuri sets up several programs to help strengthen the friendship between the two nations. A school on the beach that is equipped for teaching both Talokanil and Wakandans is established. Mandatory classes are introduced in both nation's schools, teaching them about the other countries' histories, cultures and languages, to help them better understand one another. There are also special trips arranged that allow Wakandans to visit Talokan for a short while and vis versa. In the future, Shuri hopes to introduce new sporting events that will be held one year in Talokan, and the next in Wakanda, where both nation's national sports will be played. 

When her duties as Queen are over for the day, Shuri works in her laboratory or spends the day with Cualli and Balam who show her Talokan. They introduce her to their parents and Shuri finds herself a frequent guest in their house. 

Unless they are in meetings that require both of their attention, Shuri can often go all day without seeing Namor - sometimes even longer. But when he returns, they sleep together in the same room, within the same hammock, within the palace. More often than not, it ends with them in an entanglement of limbs, Namor ushering words of devotion and love against her skin, all the while trying to coax the same words from her mouth that she refuses to say so clearly. 

"Will you not say it back to me, my love?" Namor whispers against her heart, kissing his way up between her breasts. "Tell me you love me."

He knows that she does, but she has never uttered those exact words for him to hear - not while he had been awake at least.

Shuri denies him every time.

"You cannot keep those words from me forever, Shuri."

She didn't have to keep it from him forever, only until she died. Her last petty stab at him. But his words bring back those nagging fears. That frightening thought she struggles to deny every time that she looks in the mirror, and notices not a single thing has changed.

When Namor is asleep, Shuri slips from their hammock and goes to her laboratory. She finally runs the tests that she should have done years ago but never had the chance to. Tests to find out exactly what the heart-shaped plant had done to her. It had given her the ability to breathe underwater, to survive the immense pressures of the ocean, but what if there was something else? 

Something she did not want to say aloud, for fear that it was true. 

Outside the boundary of Talokan, there is a cliff that overlooks the glimmering Kingdom. 

A statue stands guard over the city, craved in the image of Namor's Feathered Serpent form. The front of its body is reared up, standing a little taller than Shuri, while the rest of its slim body stretches out behind it in arches that vanish into the seabed. Its eyes are embedded with sapphires, and its square jaw is opened to reveal stone fangs. 

Shuri sits below its outstretched jaw, back resting against its body. Her knees are drawn to her chest, her eyes never straying from the Kingdom she has found herself Queen of. 

It is not long before Namor finds her.

As he always does. 

He glides through the water and lands on the cliff edge, a few feet away from her. He does not look pleased, his eyes holding a storm. 

"You have been avoiding me."

"No, I just happen to be where you are not."

"I thought we had agreed to be allies. If something is wrong or I have done something to offend you, then you must tell me, Shuri." 

"Did you know that I was not ageing as I should be?" Shuri asks. There is no challenge in her voice, for she already knows the answer. It is always the same with him, no matter how much she learns of him, there are always more secrets to uncover. "That there was a chance that I was immortal like you?"

She had run the tests and Griot had confirmed her worse fears. 

She was no longer ageing. 

It had stopped when she had consumed the star-shaped herb. 

"I did," Namor admits. 

"You never said anything," Shuri hisses. 

"I told you what my mother told me. That when I realised I was in love, that you would have already taken the measures to make yourself more like me. I was not just referring to your ability to live in the ocean as I do."

"You never said anything about being me immortal!" Shuri snaps. "There was no way for me to draw that conclusion!" 

"I did not want to overwhelm you," Namor replies. "You are telling me that you never expected anything?"

Truthfully, the thought had occurred to her more than once, even on Yucatán. People mistook her for being much younger than she was all the time and it had often led her into disputes with other scientists who refused to take her seriously. But it was such a bizarre and ridiculous thought that she had not allowed herself to look into it.

A mistake. 

I thought I had to endure this marriage until my death... not all eternity. 

"I always thought it strange that you let me go for those fifteen years. I'm mortal, I had a time limit. But it didn't matter, did it? You knew I wasn't ageing. That you had all the time in the world to wait for me to come to you because eventually, I would have no other choice!" Shuri raises her voice, her chest burning with rage. "People would have realized that I wasn't ageing and I would have had to leave Yucatán. And if I returned to Wakanda, how long would I endure forging friendships only to have to watch everyone around me die!"

Sooner or later, it would have become too much. Shuri knew the devasting effects loneliness had on a person, far too intimately. Perhaps she could have endured it for one human life, but forever? No one was that strong. She would have caved. She would have sought Namor out, knowing he was the only one like her, the only one she could be with without having to watch him grow old and die while she remained untouched by time. 

"I left you on Yucatán because you needed time away from me. I wanted you to heal and then come to me of your own free will. I wanted to be your choice. Yes, I did it with the comfort of knowing that one day you would return to me either way," Namor says, without an ounce of remorse. 

Shuri rises to her feet, her hands clenched into fists. 

She is glad at that moment she did not take the herb to bring back her panther powers. She had chosen not to for exactly this reason because she knew Namor would aggravate her somehow, and if she had the power to slam-dunk him into a mountain, she would. And that would not be a good look for a King and Queen.  

"You never would have let me go had it not been for that. The first time you found me after I ran from Wakanda, you would have dragged me back to Talokan."

"Yes," he admits. He steps close enough that their bodies brush together, his arm resting on the serpent statue behind her, bringing their faces close. "If you were mortal I would have kept you in Talokan where you would be safe. Where I could cherish you and what little time we had together." 

"I would have escaped," Shuri whispers. 

"And I would have chased you across the ocean if I had to." Namor brushes her cheek with his other hand. "I love you, Shuri. Queen of Wakanda and Talokan. And I know you love me, for all my imperfections, you can't stop it. Just as I could not if I wished to."

Namor leans down and kisses her softly. 

Shuri hates how she melts into his touch. 

"You will not be alone. I will always be with you," Namor promises. 

It is not long before their clothes are discarded and Namor presses her naked body into the statute of his feathered serpent form. Shuri wraps her arms around the creature's neck, her face resting just beside its open jaw. Namor's hands fall to her hips and he presses his erection inside her part-way, only to pull out. He teases her like this before she growls his name in frustration. 

"Tell me you want me," Namor demands, nipping at her earlobe.

"You know I do, you insecure, attention-seeking-"

Namor thrusts into her, burying himself inside her fully, making Shuri gasp. 

Namor starts slow, letting her adjust and savour the first delicate strokes. It is only after her prompting that he pounds into her more aggressively, his pace punishing as it was pleasurable. Shuri's body rubs against the statue with every rut, the scales rough against her skin but enticing all the same. If they leave any marks or bruises, she will make sure Namor soothes them with his tongue in apology later.

"This feels-" Shuri let's put a particularly strained groan as Namor thrusts at just the perfect angle, "-sacrilegious."

"This statue... was built in my honour," Namor whispers between gasps, "There is nothing sacrilegious... about us blessing it with our union."

Shuri kisses the jaw of the statue. 

Namor's head falls to her neck and he bites into her flesh.

Shuri's nails dig into the carving of scales, her body sliding up and down the statue as she chases the pleasure that Namor has brought her to countless times since arriving in Talokan. Her chest heaves and her heart beats so fast it is almost painful. She groans and closes her eyes, Namor's name a cry on her lips as she feels the tension in her body snap, the blissful feeling of her climax washing over her. 

Namor continues thrusting into her for a few moments before following her into ecstasy. 

Shuri does not think she will ever tire of hearing him cry out her name.

When they are finished they lie in the sand together, Shuri resting against Namor's chest. The ocean above them is as dark as the night sky, with glowing fish gliding through the water like shooting stars. It is no twilight sky, but Shuri will not deny it is equally as beautiful. 

"Do you remember the day you tried to kill me with The Red Death?" Namor asks softly.

"Yes," Shuri says quietly, not wanting to remember that day. "Why bring that up after that?"

"That?" Namor says in bemusement. "You mean me making love to you?" 

Shuri rolls her eyes. 

"I heard what you whispered to me that morning when you first awoke. Those words you deny me so often," Namor confesses. "I was awake to hear them, even though you thought I was not."

Shuri's heart stills. 

"Why do you want me to say them when you already know they are true?" Shuri asks.

When Namor does not answer, she sighs. She has fought him long enough, there is no point in denying him such a small thing, not when he already knows it. There is an eternity before them now, those words would slip from her lips one way or another. 

And truthfully, she cannot bare the thought of suffering eternity alone. 

They are bound together until the oceans dry and the stars die. 

Shuri kisses his chest, above his heart. 

"I love you, Namor."