They play with fire.
Namor knew sneaking behind the Black Panther was a bad call.
It was a stupidass decision but he’s STILL GONNA DO IT-
Fingers extending out to touch her lean arm, Namor barely reaches before Shuri turns around abruptly and throws a precise punch.
Facing the strong gust of wind brought by the approaching fist, Namor stood firmly, not flinching a bit.
Her fist stops precisely mere an inch away from his nose.
His hand was tightly grasped and he allowed it, feeling her delicate fingers wrapped around his wrist, he knew she could sense his steady pulse.
Her fist slowly withdrew, revealing her disdainful expression, eyeing him like he was a naughty little boy who almost caused trouble. Pulling away, clicking her tongue at him, annoyed.
Namor flashes her a harmless mischievous smile.
After she released his wrist, Namor promptly took her hand, firmly holding it in his big palm, keeping it warm.
Her hand was stone cold.
She was too lazy, unbothered, occupied, to free herself from his evil claws, letting him hold her for just a little while longer before she decided to break his nose for real next time.
“You know I could hear your footsteps, Namor. You weren’t as sneaky as you think. How old are you, four?” Shuri laughs off in disdain.
“The accurate age is 454 years old, Black Panther. ” Namor quips in a heartbeat.
His honest and witty remark finally elicited an amused smile from her, Shuri playfully and mockingly exaggerated with good humour, retorting, "Alright, senior citizen. So what brings you here, holy ancient one?”
Her tone was playful, laced with pure sarcasm, genuine amusement that couldn't be feigned, yet it couldn't conceal something underneath.
Namor tugs at her, but she stands her ground. “Why were you in here but not out there all this time?”
Why?
Shuri turned around, ignoring the feeling of his fingers interlocking with hers with surprising warmth, focusing back on her sand table that she was tinkering on something moments ago before she heard him coming in, wrecking her peace.
“It’s noisy here.”
The beeping sounds coming from her screen when she types, the buzzing of machines, the soothing whir of maglev trains that transport their vibranium, the noise of the festival that Wakanda was having now in Birnin Zana, the lively cheers of celebration from afar even penetrated the distance, reaching into the laboratory where she was now.
So far. So far, far away. Like she doesn't belong there.
“Tsk.” Noisy my ass. It was Namor’s turn to click his tongue at her. The lab was as silent as a library, soothing yet lonely.
“Speak before I kick you out of my lab. We are not that friendlyyet for you to just casually walk into my space like this.” Shuri eyes him playfully and warningly, this is happening because she is allowing this to happen.
Just this once.
“I’d do anything for you.”
~~~
…Shuri wasn't sure if she had misheard the God-King of Talokan, and a hint of surprise coloured her tone as she murmured, she didn’t see that coming at all.
"What?”
Making Namor generously utter once more.
“I’d do anything for you.”
To get you out of the gloom.
~~~
Shuri remains still as she stares at him quietly, as if trying to comprehend what he just said. Her face betrayed no emotions.
…Even Namor himself had not anticipated how unexpected, spontaneous, and tender his words would be when he uttered them.
But still, he caught the slight surprise and fleeting shock on her face that conveyed it all, as if he had voiced something unforgivable.
He had said far more outrageous things before.
Shuri finally snapped back to reality, freeing herself from his grasp at last as he let go too. Crossing her arms, tilting her head, her face gradually becoming unrestrained .
Shuri looked at him with a mischievous grin, as if her momentary confusion and dejection had never been captured by him,
“Anything?”
“Anything.”
Nodding firmly, Namor was ready to take whatever scheme she was going to throw at him with that smug grin of hers.
Shuri hums for a while, putting up a thinking-hard expression as she finally has something in her mind when her gaze roams over him from head to toe. Namor was wearing his regal God-King’s attire, which not in a million years she would admit these clothes on him looks better than anything she had ever seen. Nope.
Shifting away, Shuri hears the lively celebrations ring in the atmosphere again, her face gradually softens, but her heart little by little hardens.
How can you offer me anything, when we were barely allies?
Definitely not friends, yet far from strangers.
“Besides taking a punch in the face?” Shuri slowly taunted, not hiding how much she wanted to punch hard at that pretty face of his.
Namor chuckles in delight, so was she plotting to land a punch on his face with all that brainstorming just now?
Although he wouldn't mind, and he deserves it, it wouldn't look good on a festive occasion like this, right?
“Besides taking a punch in the face.” Namor firmly nods, his face rather serious yet Shuri sees the shifting glint in his eyes. Perhaps next time.
She snorted, “So much for I’d do anything for you.” Shuri shook her head excessively playful, then, remembering her mother's words about princess-like manners, she halted and silently engaged with the monster who shared the same plight as her.
Can you give my mother back to me?
“...So much… for I’d do anything for you… ” Mumbling with a slight pout as Shuri tilts her head, a gesture akin to what Toussaint often does. Then, she returned to her initial thoughts.
Missing the sadness, sorrow, regret and resentment that flickered in his deep brown eyes.
Turning around, she reaches for something and bends down in front of him, placing them before his feet, gets back up and crosses her arms.
“Put them on,” she says as she looks at him.
Namor looks down, eyeing the two black pads placed in front of his feet, and back to the Black Panther, squinting his beautiful brown eyes.
“I need no protection.”
“Tsk.” Shuri raises her brows in surprise.
She challenges him. She knows he knows she can one-up him anytime.
“You said you’d do anything for me.”
It can’t be—
“Put them on.”
—that Namor is afraid of wearing… shoes?
His defiant expression of resisting putting on shoes like a child made her chuckle.
“It’s fully automated. You don't need to graciously bend down, and don't worry about straining your esteemed 454-year-old backbone, it won’t crack so easily.”
She’s in full-on mode teasing him now.
“It’s comfortable, trust me.” Shuri fully guesses the only reason that he’s resisting which is completely valid. She can imagine how huge of discomfort it is to wear something wrapped around your ankles with wings on it.
He won’t be able to fly freely anymore.
Like an osprey soaring freely, only to have its wings broken by each cry. One by one.
A wing-clipped, crippled creature.
Ha, she had witnessed it before—
“Like the old surface world movies you liked to watch while you were at the river every night? No.”
Not being impressed, Namor grumbles, thinking she must have some menacing idea to trick him, and stepping on his foot would surely be a trap.
Shuri remained silent, ignoring his comment. Unfazed, she didn't expose that Namor had unraveled her secret…
…She simply wanted to overcome herself.
At the very spot where she once proclaimed her intent to burn the world, and watching the movie her family once enjoyed. The projector displayed her and T’Challa's favourite movie that they used to watch when they were young.
Silently, she watched it, over and over, day by day.
The more indifferent she became, the more liberated she felt, right?
Who was she kidding?
Undisturbed and composed, Shuri continues to lure in the bait. “—And I made them completely sound absorbent.” So maybe the next time you sneak on me, I'll be surprised.
Namor’s mouth twitched, unfazed by the amazement, "Oh, very impressive." His wings nervously fluttered, giving away his true feelings. She saw every flutter and-
“Guess what I call them,” Shuri’s eyes crinkle in glee. She felt this scene so familiar, so nostalgic and she knows why. She missed her brother dearly.
“-Sneakers.” Shuri looks at him with eager anticipation, and indeed,
Namor rolls his eyes fondly at her. He was infected by her sense of silly humour and burst into low chuckles, amused. Shuri giggles slightly, like all those years ago.
What has changed?
Between her and Namor?
Their peculiar way of interacting.
They hovered between being overly familiar and not familiar with each other at all, sometimes even surprising themselves.
One moment, they were unfamiliar, treating each other with respect like two sovereigns calmly discussing the affairs of their nations.
The next moment, they bantered like children, overly familiar.Overstepping.
Onlookers marveled at their transformation, curious about what had happened between them.
Shuri wants to know too.
Their banter was so natural, as if this was the only way they could coexist with playful exchanges, not with resentment.
Shuri’s patience ran out for him.
“Come on. I got you.”
Unexpectedly, she extended both hands in front of Namor, encouraging him to take that precious first step as if coaching a toddler who had just learned to walk.
Surely, this couldn't be his first time putting on shoes, r-i-g-h-t?
Namor’s eyes trace the lines on her palms, and then without hesitation, he covers her small hands with his much larger hands, clasping each other’s palms tightly. She steadies him, and he knows Shuri is strong enough to fling him away if she wants to.
Namor knew he could entrust his life to her—
Chaac, his life was hers when the Black Panther spared him. But...
"Are you sure about these… sneakers?" He wiggles his foot, his wings fluttering with restraint, as if it has its own mind.
"Absolutely, this is my invention we are talking about, who are you kidding?"
"They won't burn my feet later, will they?" His foot hovers over the black insoles, hesitant to commit as if it will trap his poor feet the moment he steps on it and gets roasted. Namor learned his lesson.
"Pfft, no, I promise." Shuri contemplates making a sneaky stomp and steps on his foot when he isn't looking. He’s taking too much time!
"They won't clip my wings?" A moment of hesitation in his voice silenced them both, the air pausing.
Then came Shuri’s gentle yet firm words.
"No. I'd heal them if they did."
"That is not helping." Grumbling, Namor continues, "They won't make me look ridiculous, will they?" He never needed to wear shoes; his skin was thick enough and less prone to injury. Namor knew the feeling, and he surely wouldn't like it.
She pursed her lips, preventing herself from bursting out in laughter, she teased, "No. Anyone who dares to laugh at the God-King of Talokan, I'll blind them. Satisfied?"
Shuri reassured him, never letting go of Namor’s hand. It was weird, she swears, holding hands with your ally.
“Alright.”
They stared at each other, Namor’s gaze locked onto hers, eyes devouring her like an abyss.
Shuri blinks, then takes a step backwards, holding his blood-soaked hands, leading him with her and pauses. Her face was with a questioning expression, attempting to read his emotions from his face.
Shuri saw it.
Namor shifts both his feet, each of them stomping a few times on the floor. Sensing Shuri’s attempt to free her own hands, he decisively tightened his grip and murmured,
“...I don’t really feel anything.”
“Uh-huh, that’s the gist.” Shuri rolled her eyes at him.
“Is it on?” Namor asks again, never tearing his gaze away from her instead of looking down at himself.
“Yes.” She responded with a touch of annoyance. Then, as if to double-check, she glanced down and nodded. Hmm, perfect as she predicted. Well done.
Following her satisfied gaze, Namor finally looks down. His winged feet are indeed wrapped in said sneakers perfectly, he stomps a few times, and it was like she said, completely sound absorbent. Ha, he expected no less from her brilliance.
Now, the only question left-
Can he fly in this thing?
“Impressive, isn’t it? I upgraded the nanobots to adapt to your physiology, there’s even a mini sprinklerr-ffffFuuuckKwWHhoOAaaa—!”
Shuri was cut off when she was slammed into his chest.
Namor made a strong pull, securely pulling the Black Panther into his embrace with a force that she could resist, wrapping his arms around her waist and back, and lifted them both off the ground, stepped and soared into the open air of the lab amidst Shuri’s frantic protests, “For Bast’s sake! You are NOT allowed to fly in my lab!!!"
While Namor kindly reminded her, "If you move recklessly, we'll fall together, just so you know."
Let's fall together, descend together, and plunge into the depths together.
"Drop us, you asshole, I'll use you as a meat cushion."
They hovered in mid-air like that, Shuri tightly clung to his neck, chin resting on his shoulder, and as they looked out, an endless expanse of purplish-blue vibranium stretched beneath. Will it ever end?
"Tell me how you did it,” Namor whispers in her ears.
“Figure it yourself, genius.” Shuri murmurs in response, how could he not figure it out?
The God that brought the sun to his people.
“Hmm. What you just mentioned about nanotechnology, I've heard a bit about it. Combining that technology with your detailed analysis of me, incorporating the rhythm, patterns, and directions of my wing movements while flying into the algorithm, and then reinforcing nanomaterials with your brilliant mind to match the frequency of my wings flapping in real-time from all directions and overlapping them completely…”
It was like his ankle wings wore a suit of its own. Impeccable.
But what fascinates Namor more is never about her technology.
“You are truly impressive, Princess.”
It was her.
Shuri quietly listened to his explanation, it was totally as Namor said. It was as if, apart from her and her nation, everyone else in the world knew how precious their vibranium was, and how the entire world coveted them for it.
But no one understood what it takes to protect their resources.
…But he did.
Namor flew them out of her lab, out of the Mountain of Bashenga, beyond the mountains, through streams of rivers, over the voices of celebration emanating from the Golden City, past towering buildings, the whispering sound in Shuri’s ears was the breeze.
It was them.
Shuri closed her eyes, letting Namor take her away.
He descended outside of the palace, gently placing her on the ground. Shuri found her ground, it was solid, not unstable and treacherous, threatening to sink her beneath the earth.
But she remained motionless and quietly nestled against his shoulder, arms loosely draped, breathing steadily, as if peacefully asleep.
“Ukumkanikazi.” Queen.
It was Ayo. She calls with a worried tone, waking her up gently.
Shuri let her hands, which had clung to him like he was the last lifeline she could ever have, hang limp.
Turning away with closed eyes, not sparing the murderer of her mother a glance.
Every respectful address from others serves as a reminder of her loss—
“How did the celebration go?” Shuri speaks with her General of the Dora Milaje.
—losing her father,
“Everything went smoothly, My Queen.” Shuri nodded reassuringly, “Go then, I'll be there shortly.”
—losing her mother,
Ayo salutes her, “Yes, ukumkanikazi."
—losing her brother,
Finally, Shuri turned to face Namor.
—losing everything.
“Since you are Wakanda’s ally and our guest in honour, come on,” Her hand, which just clung to his neck moments ago, abruptly halted before reaching his chest and giving him a smack, realizing the lack of formality. They weren’t anything.
Beyond the surface and the impending alliance that would become deeply rooted between their nations, they were nothing more than that.
Yet, Shuri knew as rulers, sovereigns, monarchs, leaders,
they were bound by duty. bound by grief.
But Shuri also understood that, for them, anything was possible if they willed it.
They could be anything.
In the midnight reverie, often awakened by nightmares, only to hear his voice filled with regret and remorse.
“It could’ve been different.”
Letting go, Shuri murmurs the rest, “You don't want children playing hide and seek under your ancient cloak."
Namor simply shrugs. In fact, he didn't mind at all. Shuri nodded to her people, instructing them to take him to change into less ceremonious attire. He silently followed, but turned around and glanced back at her once more before leaving.
Eyes full of abyss.
As if he wanted to pull her into the abyss with him.
But on the day she saw her nephew for the first time, Shuri vowed never to lose anything she cherished again.
Wakanda, her nation and her people. Toussaint and Nakia are safe and far from Haiti. Okoye, who is exploring the world now. M’Baku, a brother who she seeks for guidance and counsel. Ayo, Aneka and the Dora Milaje that would die protecting her, the only royal family member the world has known left like all their fallen comrades before them. Ross, who now resides in Wakanda for his safety. She will not turn her back on the ones who once helped Wakanda.
And… Namor, their only ally.
She still has so much more to do.
The legacy they left behind.
She can’t stop and she won’t stop.
She can only keep going… and move forward.
Anyone who wanted to take them away would have to step over her lifeless dead body to reach the nation behind her and the people she loved.
And didn't he understand? What it feels like to lose someone you love.
And god, how does god feel?
Shuri understands that Namor, more than anyone, intimately comprehends.
What about god?
How did he resist it?
Entrapped in the vortex. Eternally denied liberation.
Knowing death is a gift.
So what about god?
Shuri blinks, this time clearly discerning his emotions. She saw it before, and she sees it now.
She looked directly at Namor, her expression open, eyes as bright as the sun. “See you in a minute.” They nodded to each other briefly and walked away.
Shuri returned to her room, changing out of the white lab coat and orange jacket. Shuri moved with a light, brisk step towards the city entrance.
She still has so much more.
Oh, and by the way? She noticed it way more than she should.
She saw it earlier.
The way his ears bloom and move slightly and gently like a deer when it’s content and happy.
She saw it just now.
The way Namor looked at her with sadness. Like the day she poured her heart out, telling someone for the first time about how she truly felt after losing T’Challa. Her big brother whom she grew up looking up to.
How could they?
How could they take him away from her, from Nakia, from Toussaint?
But the pain in the god’s eyes. In a monster’s eyes. How ironic. How pathetic. How pitiful. How sorrowful. How unfortunate.
Not even god.
They were not free from pain; instead, they lived with it.
But sometimes the pain was just too much to bear alone.
Namor pats on her shoulder once, making her jump. The sneakers did work. Besides, he thinks she has a scheme going on.
Shuri glanced at him once and then looked away. Less distracting, at least.
It was just that she had grown accustomed to seeing him with his chest all out, and now Namor was covered from head to toe, which seemed a bit strange.
Like she’s trying to suffocate him to death by making him wear more clothes.
Sounds like a decent way to die.
The style of the robe was similar to what T’Challa used to wear when he was alive, they were both a king and all so— However, she had it made in a deep green colour with golden patterns instead of black and silver.
That’s his colour, right?
…Perhaps she should change the colour of the sneakers as well. Maybe white and beige… to match his wings.
Shuri looked up at the sun, trying to dispel all these jumbled thoughts.
But seeing Namor wearing Wakanda clothes, it’s just weird. The royal family all wear traditional clothes.
Reciprocity in customs. She hasn't forgotten how he welcomed her.
“Ukumkanikazi.” Ayo snaps her out as always.
Shuri gazes at the celebration from afar and back to only Namor, Ayo and Nomble. They need no protection. “Are we all set and good to go? Did you get his mini sprinkle on? Or not he might have died on the street if he didn’t. Okay, all set, let’s go.” She claps her hands, beckons him to follow her lead and strolls towards the market.
They walk side by side, he asks,
"You are not wearing it?” Gesturing over her, Namor swears she’s trying to suffocate him besides being diplomatic.
She looks down at herself, it’s her usual attire, a fitted black dress and her golden Panther Habit, that's it.
Shuri holds her hand behind her back and continues to stroll, murmuring,
“I have my own way to honour tradition.”
Namor simply nods and respects that.
That's one of the aspects she… appreciates and maybe… admires about him.
Tradition shouldn't be tied to technological advancements. People like her, who scoff at tradition, have also ascended to the position of queen in the end.
But Shuri knew some people were dissatisfied to see her as Queen, just like they didn't like when she formed an alliance with Namor, him now walking on their streets, the same person who a few months ago aimed to eradicate Wakanda and killed Queen Mother Ramonda.
But what can they do?
She had fought all the challengers on Challenge Day. She won.
And like he said, she is Queen now. How ironic.
Namor breaks the silence between them when Shuri is being too quiet along the way. How her pace has slowed down as they are inching closer and closer to the celebration in the city center. How her figure was slightly stiff while she walked, as if resisting something.
"You intentionally wanted to bring me to the celebration, didn't you?"
That explains why she prepared these for him.
"You purposely came to my lab to drag me into accompanying you to the celebration, didn't you?"
Shuri retorted defiantly. Namor simply smirks smugly.
But his smug smile quickly faded because he discovered something.
It was a bad call to come here.
It was a bad call to come here.
Shuri knew it, and that’s why she was in her lab in the first place. Watching the flames from a performer go high, she shut herself from the festive celebration, from the world. Only nodded when people greeted her, their Queen.
The festival, the celebration, the chanting the dancing, everything-
Only reminded her of the day she buried her brother, T’Challa.
Step by step, she walked with the Black Panther helmet in hand. In denial. She watched their people dancing and celebrating. In denial. She felt an infinite hole grow in her heart the moment Mother told her T’Challa was with the ancestors, with Baba. In denial. She never had the thought of losing her brother.
In acceptance- She did lose him and it crushed her.
~~~
Shuri felt the scene unfolding in front of her so familiar, so nostalgic and missed him dearly. Deadly.
At that moment, the longing for her brother consumed her.
Shuri unconsciously reached out for the nearest support.
Namor grabbed her hand, firmly holding her in the palm of his.
Her people greeted her one by one, children tugged at her hand, and Shuri mechanically nodded in acknowledgment, squeezing her best smile along the way.
Clinging to the warmth in her hand desperately, Shuri began to chastise herself for allowing him to casually hold her hand like this.
Like they were more than allies.
Yet, she helplessly let Namor lead her towards her people, towards the heart of the celebration. It seemed that no one recognized him as the great villain who had attacked them months ago. The Wakandans surrounded their Queen closely in the center, singing loudly, dancing with fervor, and celebrating the festival of the day.
It was crowded and packed in sight. It was too quiet. She can’t hear anything.
In the midst of the crowded crowd, jumping, singing and dancing, Shuri quietly lowers her head, nestled in front of him. Namor seemed to notice her discomfort, keeping his hand holding hers and the other wrapped around her back, shielding her from all the jostling and bumping. She lowers her gaze at their feet touching. His feet are covered by nanobots.
How silly.
Finally, Shuri leans her head gently on Namor’s chest, letting the current celebration transport her back in time. Back into her fresh and dusted memory, and it felt not far away at all.
The deafening dread rushes back to her. The despair of her brother’s death, that she couldn’t save him, all coming back to her all at once.
Her rage, her anger, her wrath, her thirst for blood and vengeance. Mingled with her regret, her loss, her grief, her self-remorse and hatred, all under the disguise of her unbothered facade.
She hurts so much on the inside, that she can no longer feel anything on the outside.
Once, she was in denial of her grief. But now when she embraces it, it still hurts.
People are dancing, instruments are being played, and a wide range of outfits are all stark colourful.
But all Shuri remembers was white. Everyone was in pristine white. Including herself, including T’Challa, dressed in white—
“They moved on… But not us.”
Namor’s voice, light as his feathers that she plucked, echoes above her. His cheek rested ghostly, gently touching against the side of her head, offering silent comfort, out of all people.
Realizing her loss of composure, Shuri quickly regained her composure and picked up the scattered pieces of herself.
Suddenly, a flower was placed in the palm of their intertwined hand. It was given by a little girl, and Namor thanked the little girl by raising their entangled hands and softly patting her head.
The little girl beams at her, reminding Shuri of her precious nephew, Toussaint.
Suddenly, everything seemed less painful.
She still had hope, carrying her father's expectations, her mother's dreams, and her brother's love. She would continue to love the little boy who smiled just like T’Challa and protect their beloved home.
They would always be with her.
Slowly, all the voices in her heart came to her. Brother’s, Mama’s, Baba’s. All the sounds of celebration come to her senses. Little by little, Shuri starts to hear little things. The laughter of children, the cheers of men and women, whistling and chanting, the sounds of feet tapping on the ground, stomping and kicking. The warm heat under the sun, the soft breeze caressing her tear-stained cheeks.
She wipes it away.
Slowly, Shuri was pulled out of her endless nightmare, and back to the present. Toussaint and Nakia are safe. Wakanda is safe. They were not in danger. Not yet.
And even though she was still not hearing everything, she could feel the heat and intensity of his gaze, Shuri lifted her head finally and looked him in the eye.
Namor’s gaze was what she felt the most, and hated the most.
His gaze. That pair of abyssal eyes.
Stealing a tiny piece of her soul every time.
“Keep staring and I’ll gouge your eyes out.” Shuri kindly warns him.
Namor’s lips curl upwards, and the corner of his eyes wrinkles, he teases her, "Didn't expect the Queen of Wakanda to have a penchant for… gouging people's eyes out.”
“Only for pretty brown eyes.” Shuri mockingly blurts out without thinking. It's all because of his eyes—
“Should I consider myself honoured?” Namor adds with jest.
“Yes. You should.”
Their banter instantly diverted her attention, and Shuri began to curiously observe, truly soaking in the festive atmosphere, gradually relaxing at last.
It wasn't so bad after all.
And he continued to watch her in silence, not mentioning a word about her nearly on the verge of collapsing moments ago.
Namor watched as a genuine smile blossomed on Shuri’s face,
…Wondering when she would smile at him in the same way. Wholeheartedly.
Maybe for just a fleeting moment.
Learning from her, he looks around, observing the unfamiliar surroundings.
The life of a surface dweller. Sometimes, Namor forgets she was from the surface after all.
The surface that he has no love for.
…How? No… why?
Why would he love her?
Like he was destined to since the first time he laid eyes on her. Like they have met before. Shuri. The Princess of Wakanda. The Princess of the only Nation that could stand in his way, in Talokan’s way to burn the world.
Namor looks around in silence, observing everything unfolding, amused and impressed when he catches little things, a little smile plays at the corner of his mouth. Barely reaching his eyes.
And when Shuri could see the loneliness in his eyes. He came alone today. He had no one with him, only her, and she will never be one of the people he died to protect. Her heart… softens.
It was like seeing herself.
Namor half-opened his eyes, looking at the sun, it was very hot. His ears started to ache, and the celebratory sounds became more intense, piercing his ears numbly but not unbearable. The crowd's congestion made him slightly uncomfortable, he shrinks his feet, touching something else instead. His people usually kept their distance from him. He was their god. Except for the few close to him.
Namor watches the children chase and play among the adults, occasionally bumping into them or clinging to her feet, calling out to her. Shuri will respond warmly to every one of them, it reminds him of the time when she met his people in Talokan, the way she smiled at their sun. Some would even curiously stare at him, while some wave shyly at them, zooming away in jubilant.
As Namor observes Wakandans, her people, he suddenly feels that he should have brought Attuma and Namora to join him. Except Attuma is busy looking for the Black Panther’s ex-general s-o-m-e-w-h-e-r-e while Namora knows what he went there for and politely declines her god’s wish.
Originally, he just wanted to take her out to relax… for a breath of fresh air when he couldn’t spot the Queen of Wakanda celebrating with her people. Then, not understanding why these thoughts, which had never occurred before, surged profoundly into his mind—
How does it look like… if his people hadn't been chased away from their own home all those years ago, they could also celebrate and dance under the sun, breathe the air that was filled with the aroma of food, many unfamiliar scents he had never smelled, and many things he had never carefully observed or noticed like he could now, just like she and her people do every day?
Much like hers, he believes so.
Namor smiles helplessly, perhaps it was all because of her.
Shuri changed him.
“Hey.”
Namor shifts his gaze away from the sun and looks at his sun.
It was her.
Shuri lightly shook the hand they intertwined together. Namor didn't feel it was inappropriate, but he seemed to have never seen allies holding hands for so long.
He releases her hand, she probably wanted to break free and celebrate with her people instead.
Namor let go.
“I’d do anything for you.”
She dared him. She challenged him.
Shuri’s voice pierces through everything, all of it.
No matter what he asks from her.
Accurately captured by his pointy ears, striking his wavering heart directly. Hearing her soft words, his heart lands steadily in the open palms of her hands.
To burn the world together, to sit beside her while in the meeting, a kiss, sex, her hand, anything.
They changed course, with her taking his hand and leading him, and as Namor looked at her, all he saw was an endless gentle light, shining with moving sincerity and openness.
The King that would do anything to protect his people.
She had so much love.Namor doesn't know how she does it.
The man that she thought she knew was a monster, but they were not so different after all.
But he understood now.
In Shuri, he found an inexplicable sense of belonging, from the surface.
How ironic.
Was it a cruel joke from the gods, hoping that through her, he would fall in love with the land that his mother had once loved?
“Dance with me,” Namor utters his wish and she hears him.
Long eyelashes cast a shadow at his half-lidded eyes, as if she was a dream.
Shuri saw Namor’s clear and soul-penetrating brown eyes reflect her silhouette, her outline, her shadow, her contour, her shape, her profile, her figure, her form, her eyes, her gaze, her heart, and her soul.
“Alright.”
He tried to pull her into the abyss with him.
And she forcefully pulled him out from the endless dark abyss, showing him the blazing sun, casting a never-ending ray of light at the end.
They didn't literally dance as he wished but continued holding hands. Oh no, turns out his not-so-empty hand held a small bouquet of flowers, gathered by all the little flowers gifted from the children and even some adults.
Namor raises his hand, carefully and attentively unravels her braids, tucking the flowers behind her ear.
She lets him.
Her hair had grown longer, reaching her shoulders. She had a good time in Haiti. He had somehow… encountered her a few times before there.
Even though Shuri was sure Namor knew exactly where she was.
She lived by the sea, in a place with water.
She couldn't be bothered to run anymore.
"Yo, fossil. Still rocking those ancient moves?” Shuri takes the priceless opportunity to tease him hard.
Namor didn’t banter back.
She could only silently extend her hand to hold his other hand, then guide both his hands, swaying softly with the festival music like they were out of place.
Shuri stares at him with a slightly amused expression, wondering if Namor’s intense yet soft gaze is hiding confusion or embarrassment about the fact that he does not know how to dance.
Who was she kidding? Shuri thinks. Given his thick-skinned nature, Namor wouldn't hesitate to admit it and might even take advantage of the situation to tease her even more.
However, Namor didn't respond.
Instead, he did something contrary to her expectations of his usual banter.
Little by little, Namor lowers his head slightly and presses his forehead against hers, full of reverie, endless affection, and infinite tenderness entangled in such a small gesture.
How? Why?
Shuri is momentarily stunned but quickly regains her composure again. Since she was the one who initiated this dance and took his hands in the first place, she couldn't blame him now.
With a sigh, she accepted the situation and continued, realizing that it was her move, after all.
“You are overstepping your boundaries, K’uk’ulkan.”
Shuri speaks without hesitation, without backing down, and without fear, as she whispers her retort and displays full-on authority.
Namor sneers, smirking.
An unbridled smile. Willful. Reckless. Wicked. Shameless. Wanton.
“What if that’s what I wanted to do, Princess?”
Overstepping without shame, Namor gently nuzzles his forehead against hers, they were so close that a slight turn of his head could have planted his lips – those lips capable of spatting outrageous venomous insults, shameless teasing with flirtation and bantering jest, and deeply comfort with reassurance, solace laced with tender murmurs – onto hers.
Their noses brush, meeting the cold touch of his piercing yet engulfed by the warm breath of their mingled exhales.
In the breaths they shared, something intermingled.
Perhaps desire. Perhaps lust. Perhaps anything other than love. Anything. As long as it’s not love.
At this moment, the tranquility between them felt as if the entire world had faded away, leaving only the two of them.
Supporting each other, using each other;
Comforting each other, hurting each other;
Understanding each other, seeking warmth from each other;
Owing each other, consoling one another;
Praising each other, insulting each other;
Attracting each other, suspecting each other;
Chasing each other, teasing each other;
Accompanying each other, resenting each other;
and changing each other.
Shuri steps back first.
She had allowed too much to happen today. It was enough.
She pulls him out of the crowd onto the equally packed streets, but with more space, and more air, so they do not have to stay so close anymore. Turning back to witness the miraculous escape from the crowd, Shuri thought perhaps she should have left him there.
Let him taste the flavour of loneliness and helplessness on the tip of his tongue. Bitter.
But she didn't leave him inside the crowd because he had not loosened his grip on her hand. Namor held her hand tightly. Too tightly. As if she was grasped by the pressure of the ocean, unable to leave anything behind.
They were the same. They left nothing behind. Just like their love.
Shuri and Namor stroll on the Birnin Zana’s bustling streets; they are among her people, flanked by Ayo and Nomble.
"What you owe me, and what I owe you… When will it end?” When? Tell me, Bast.
Shuri looks straight ahead, putting her hands behind her back, and speaking softly.
“What you do, and what I do, anything, could never repay what we took from each other in a lifetime.”
“How do you know?”
Namor always says the strongest words lightly.
“How do you know we don't have a future together?”
"It could’ve been different."
Too light that it hurts.
They both stopped and finally looked into each other's souls.
Shuri sees the stubbornness in Namor, suddenly realizing that they had something in common, again.
Too alike, leaving her with only two choices:
either love each other or destroy each other.
She couldn't do either.
—How many people have gone mad for love?
“I don't know, and I don't want to know—” Shuri looks at him, speaking earnestly and sincerely.
At this moment, there were two standing here.
Signing softly with what seemed like genuine regret. She is tired, from feeling so much hatred, “...because just thinking about it now feels painful. You don’t understand—” and somehow…
“How could I not understand?” How? The anger. The betrayal. His grief. His loss.
When she lost her mother, he lost two of his children.
The Black Panther is right. The Queen of Wakanda is right.
When will it end?
Namor looked into Shuri’s eyes, her eyes mirroring all the agony, suffering, torment, and anguish he felt – a piercing pain struck in his eyes, in his bones, in his heart, in his soul.
How many went crazy for love? How many become insane by love? How many lose their minds for love?
“This ends here.” He declares, stepping closer to face her.
Shuri gazes at him with confusion.
Namor declares, watching as her eyes reflect him. How he wanted it to be. No grief.
"This ends here. This ends now. Now it ends, Black Panther.”
In the beginning, he made a cruel decision for her, making her queen.
“Let all the suffering, all the pain end with us, Shuri.”
Today, Namor will be selfish again.
Shuri suddenly realized that this was the first time he had called her by name.
How long had she not been Shuri anymore?
“As long as it doesn't harm our people. You have my word, Queen Shuri, Talokan will stand with Wakanda in perpetuity.”
Namor walks away with his resolution, moving forward alone.
Shuri doesn’t understand as she looks at his leaving figure…
But he walks so slow… so slowly, like a 454-year-old man would stroll in the street. Not like a king, not like a god, not like Namor, she thought she knew once again…
and how could she not understand?
It's just that Shuri still doesn't understand one thing. She was a genius, but not in this.
Just one… or a few.
What is in her that he sees— In what way does she possess the ability to inspire such a deep and soulful affection in him?
Where— It was at the very river. At the very first sight.
When did he- Like the very beginning.
He and her. Namor and Shuri. Such an oddly… satisfying, but still… tragedy.
Why can she evoke— such heartfelt craving and pining within him?
How is it that she— sparks an intense, bone-deep love and aching sense of yearning in Namor’s heart?
How did she become the abyss of all his longing in the first place?
Maybe time will tell.
Namor walked slowly, whether out of exhaustion, on the verge of dehydrating and dying, or a deliberate wait for her, Shuri effortlessly catches up with him, walking by his side. He gazed steadfastly ahead and around, indifferent to her presence.
Shuri ponders for a moment and could only come up with this:
“I deactivated your sneakers when you dragged me into the crowd.”
Namor stopped. Turned towards her to face the Queen of Wakanda, staring in disbelief for a few seconds at her face, and then finally they both looked down at his winged ankles.
Shuri hums. Safe and sound, just a bit dirty, disheveled, and not as adorable anymore.
"I noticed you didn’t notice after I dematerialized it, and since you seemed fine, I didn't reactivate it," Shuri explains cheerfully.
"Oh." Namor looks at his ankles with a hint of disdain. His wings were unharmed in the crowd, and he gradually relaxed his tense nerves. Anyway, if anything happened, she promised to heal him. That gave him an excuse.
An excuse to seek her out and stay by her side.
"My words stand. Wherever you are injured, I'll help you heal. Assuming I didn't cause it, of course~” Shuri repeats, adding the latter menacingly, noticing how his ears and wings move and flutter slightly again nevertheless.
She decides to do it more often. For research purposes.
Who could’ve hurt me except you? Namor kept his mouth shut.
But he figured it out, “That’s why the kids were staring at us for so long.” No wonder.
Shuri laughs heartily. “Pfft. No, I don’t think so.”
“They were staring because I’m different.” Namor had gotten used to it.
But we were the same.
She blurts out quickly again. “No. Not because you were different, but because you are special. There’s a difference.”
Shuri finds Namor eyeing her slyly, raising his eyebrow playfully.
“What?” She won’t be baited so easily and continues to lead the way as they resume strolling, the breeze erupts a melody from the wind chimes.
She found them in the breeze again. Pushing her gently.
And Shuri couldn’t help herself, “...But as you said, you are in Wakanda, a place where people do not need to hide or change who they were, just that you might get stepped on a hundred times and your wings might be a little… scruffy.” Shrugging casually, she ends her little speech only to find Namor staring again.
He murmurs dreamily, “...You remember what I said.”
Shuri decides to shut her mouth on this, nodding and simply continuing.
But Namor stops her.
“Princess…”
Shuri had a bad feeling about this.
“I’d love to see your nation.”
~~~
Thank Bast Namor didn’t say what she said. She remembered every moment they spent at Talokan. And everything he told her.
From“The child without love. And I took my name from there, Namor. Because I have no love for the surface world.”To“You are the first person from the surface to come to Talokan. Please take this as a token of our gratitude.”—
Shuri suddenly remembered. His bracelet. His mother’s bracelet—
…She should… give it back to him… one day. But it was hers now, wasn't it?
Token of gratitude. If he still feels that way about her.
From“You are young, Princess. When you age as I do, you realize we all lose everyone we love.”To“I don't have an answer for that question.”
Looks like he wasn’t a wise old oak all the time.
From“Only the most broken people can be great leaders.”To“I need to know if Wakanda is an ally or an enemy. There is no in-between.”
From“I heard you that night, with your mother at the river. You said you wanted to burn the world.”
How was she so blind and naive?
To “Let us burn it together.”
~~~
He showed her everything.
~~~
He showed her the entire sky.
The entire sky of his heart.
~~~
“You know I’m not a princess anymore.” I am Queen. She knows it’s useless to argue with him because—
"Do you want to see the look on your face every time someone calls you Queen?" Namor only realized it was too late after he blurted out.
Shuri pauses, and smiles wryly, "Is it that bad?”
“I’m sorry.”
Shuri pauses again. At this moment, they both figured they were having many “first” moments with each other.
“...No, Namor, you didn’t have to. I'm just not used to it… after all. I never thought of becoming a queen, just like I never thought my brother would die…and I couldn't save him.”
“I'm sorry.”
Shuri shakes her head gently, if sorry works.
“If I have to apologize to Bast… apologize for my blatant disregard of tradition… Even if I have to apologize countless times, or for a lifetime, I will. If it means to bring back my brother… I will. ”
“I’m sorry-” Why is he even apologizing?
Getting annoyed, Shuri stops him, “I’m done hearing that, Na-” He didn’t—
“For the loss of your mother.”
Shuri continues walking as if she didn't hear, but Namor grabs her arm, and she finally stops abruptly. Unable to force herself to turn around and accept his apology.
"I'm sorry," he said again.
Shuri considered mocking him, didn't he hear what she said just now? If apologies worked, she would...
But she took a deep breath, blinked back the welling tears and exhaled. "If..."
She couldn't say it. There were no "ifs" in this world.
But as the breeze gently caresses her cheeks, brushing away her tears, pushing her backwards, gentle but firm.
She was ready.
Turning around, Shuri let go of all resentment, looking at him and whispering,
"I’m sorry for the two guards who died."
Shuri watches as Namor’s eyes gradually redden and swell up with tears, her heart breaking.
Both of them had gone mad from heartbreak, almost killing their people, and each side paid a heavy price.
Namor was right; they, the two shattered souls, should bear it together.
Only the most broken-hearted people can be great leaders.
And she still has a long way to go. This is the start. This is a baby step, significant, yet it did nothing to lessen the sorrow in his eyes.
"I’m sorry…" With remorse and regret, Shuri utters once more. How many times had she heard these two words and wanted to throw up, and yet, he managed to say them again and again?
Shuri never knew she needed to hear that.It was him. Making her realize that she was not the only one going through all these nightmares.
"I made it in time to see her one last time. Do you know what she said to me?"
A tear fell.
"She said… 'Save me, K’uk’ulkan.'"
Another tear fell. His helplessness, his heartbreak, his sorrow, his despair, all surging out.
"I couldn’t.”
His anguish, his torment, his agony, his devastation, and his broken heart, all laid bare before Shuri.
Her tears also streamed down, falling onto the same land. Their tears nurtured the same earth, it embraced the precious droplets, and then, the land whispered to the wind,
"Carry away their tears. They have suffered enough. Spare them.”
In silence, Ayo and Nomble guarded them with their backs facing them, and them facing the world.
As if the bustling market at this moment, the hustle and bustle, and the noise could drown out their grief and loss.
“...I tried to save her… but I couldn't either… Their deaths were on me.”
Shutting his eyes, his tears silently fell.
Shuri subtly leans towards Namor, allowing their shoulders to gently touch, offering him silent comfort. Back to back, facing the cruel world together, desperately gasping for the slightest breath of air through tight lungs.
“My mother. Everything she did was to save me. N’Jadaka was right… She not only died from saving Riri…”
“But Mama died saving me.”
Shuri choked on her tears. Love did drive them mad.
“And you are me, who only sought revenge after losing them. We are both monsters, Namor.” Shuri murmurs as if lost in a dream, already adrift in sorrow.
At some point, Namor had already placed his hand on her shoulder to pull her close, resting his forehead against hers. They closely cling together, enduring the sobbing and screaming in unison.
Shuri whispers in self-blame,
"I can't blame anyone, and I could not blame you for killing my mother anymore. I would have done the same, blood for blood.”
“Come back to me, Shuri.”
“—I could only blame myself for not protecting her. T’Challa would have. He will protect our Mama, he will not let anything happen to her—”
“Come back to me, Shuri.”
The child with love.
Like awakening from a dream, Shuri stares at Namor’s equally tear-filled eyes, cruelly roused from false hope and dreams.
Finally, exhausted and weary, but in trust and reliance, Shuri leans back her forehead against him, melting into Namor’s warm embrace.
A strong yet gentle breeze sweeps in, enveloping them in its embrace, swaying softly, soothing them with a tender murmur.
She slowly rests her head on his shoulder, looking at the sun, squinting her eyes, her tears falling onto Namor, drop by drop.
“...I just hope she can rest in peace with Brother and Baba.”
“Umoya…” Wind.
“Impepho…” Breeze.
Shuri smiles as they caress her cheeks, “Hey, can you both carry my message to my Mama, Brother, and Baba? I just want to tell them that I will be fine, I will protect Wakanda and all the people we love.”
She hugs him tightly, feeling his arms tighten around her, as if cradling a beloved in a protective embrace.
“Your turn to speak.” She cues Namor, passing the imaginary mic.
Taking a deep breath of her scent, he jokes,
"So now we're talking to the air like fools?"
Successfully drawing a hearty laughter from Shuri to his ears, Namor’s tightly held heart finally found a bit of relief.
"Not talking to the air, talking to the wind and breeze, genius!" She smacks his chest happily, joking back.
Namor smiles dotingly, "Alright. Got it."
"Ma' os preocupéis, míos paalal. U familias u ma'alob. Teene' in encargaré ti' leti'ob ta wotoch, Tikal, Taana. Yaan teech in t'aan".
Don’t worry, my children. Your families are doing well. I’ll take care of them in your places, Tikal, Xaman. You have my word.
"Iik', bendícela. Brisa, ba'ax podrías wáantiken in Tsikbalt ti' le yóok'ol kaaba' j kalbach., much a k'áat óoltik ba'ax le trates yéetel delicadeza ti', in yaakunaj."
Wind, bless her. Breeze, could you help me tell this cruel world, please, I beg you treat her gently, my love.
“Sounds like you have a lot of wishes." Shuri left his embrace with a tease.
Namor reaches out, slowly wiping away her tears and genuinely amused,
"Just let this 454-year-old man have this one wish, will you?”
I hope you'll be safe and happy from now on.
Shuri’s face fills with amusement, retorting,
“I dare not defy a god, duh~”
And yet she’s a non-believer.
They each wiped away their tears, ready to face the cruel yet beautiful world once again.
They were ready to move on, but Shuri suddenly remembered, along with her stomach grumbling embarrassingly, oops!
Immediately, she took him to one of her favourite food stalls.
“So, we can start making amends now. But by you trying this fish first and foremost. This is one of the best grilled tilapia we have in Wakanda. Uncle Thozoma, I’ll have two!”
Shuri orders merrily from the owner of the stall, Uncle Thozoma, who’d been watching her grow up all these years. This is one of her and T’Challa’s favourite comfort foods.
Namor crosses his arms, eyeing the tilapias in the water tanks and charcoal-grilled tilapias on the grill, sizzling with mouth-watering aroma, he could even feel the heat coming from it.
Namor’s face scrunches up, thinking if he should escape now…
“Here you go, Princess Shuri, for you and your boyfriend.” Thozoma grins and hands out the well-cooked tilapias to her.
“HE IS NOT MY BOYFRIEND, UNCLE!”
Shuri panics and exclaims fearfully, knowing Namor is not going to let that slip! He will use it against her!!!
“Oh, I always forgot you were no longer a Princess, my dear, I mean Queen Shuri, is this your King Consort, when is Wakanda announcing this officially? It’s been a long time since we had a joyful occasion!”
“NO UNCLE THOZOMA!! HE IS NOT MY HUSBAND-!! NO KING CONSORT! HE IS A KING HIMSELF—!”
Shuri realizes that the more she talked, the more ammunition she was giving Namor.
However, she noticed he was staring intently at the two impeccably grilled tilapias in her hands. She extends both hands, offering him the well-cooked fish.
"Hungry? Give it a try." Shuri encourages.
And Namor...
"What have you people done to these poor fish…”
The dumbfounded look on his face made Shuri more determined to broaden his horizons!
"Don't tell me you live in the ocean and don't eat fish. If you won't eat, I'll eat them~ You can watch. Later, I'll find other seafood for you. Be good."
In the end, he reluctantly took the other t-i-l-a-p-i-a, it reminded him of himself.
Slowly, Namor cautiously took a bite, still feeling that something was not quite right…
WAIT A MINUTE—
Mmmmmm, the tilapia is very fresh, juicy, meaty, crispy, and perfectly grilled while still retaining its juices. Plus a bit of lemon juice for seasoning, salty with a hint of sour. Surprisingly delicious.
“Delicious... right…t???”
Shuri looked up to see how Namor was enjoying it, only to find a clean and sharp fishbone in front of her.
"Finished eating?" She gasps.
"Finished." Namor nods casually, walks away and starts to chat with Uncle Thozoma about using fish bones as fertilizer or something.
She chuckles, watching for a moment and continuing to enjoy her tilapia.
Soon, Shuri notices Namor walking back to her and hovering like a cat in front of her, silently watching her tilapia. Hastily, Shuri took big bites, ignoring him and self-indulgent in the enjoyment of the delicacy, only lifting her head up to check on him when she felt she had made him wait long enough.
The hunger in Namor’s eyes made her stomach churn in a peculiar way, a slight nervousness. She hands him the half-eaten tilapia, offering the meaty side.
With his eyes fixed on hers, he slowly took a bite, sinking his teeth into flesh, not letting go.
Shuri felt like Namor was about to snatch her fish away playfully, just like a mischievous and adorable big puppy!
The scenario she imagined in her mind, Namor of a wolf-like hunger, didn't match the reality of an adorable puppy at all.
Nervously, Shuri licks the sauce off her lips, only to find his gaze directed downwards, staring at her lips now. She couldn't see her reflection in his soul-devouring brown eyes anymore.
But when she realized that, subconsciously, she followed his gaze, also looking at his lips. Shuri snaps back to reality and catches Namor with a mischievous, teasing smile filled in his shimmering eyes!
Shuri feels a warm sensation and her face is flush. Taking the tilapia back, she bites into the area she had eaten and mumbles to Namor. "Go get another one if you are still hungry… Look at how you're drooling. Is it that delicious?” She continues to munch happily.
It's not that she wants to show off, but she has a very discerning taste. What caught her eye is truly exceptional.
But Namor smirks menacingly.
He wasn’t drooling at the tilapia.
Suddenly, Namor’s enlarged face is looming in front of her, his hand supporting her back as Shuri instinctively takes a step back, retreating along with her feet. But he hooks one winged ankle behind hers, biting into her tilapia smoothly, their noses colliding along with their sweaty foreheads bumping together.
Only Bast and Chaac know what happened between them at this very moment.
Whether it was the accelerating heartbeat from tasting the delicious tilapia or being enticed by the tempting fragrance, chests were soon filled with something almost overflowing and bursting into like fireworks.
Namor leans back first from their sharing of tilapia together.
The grilled tilapia was salty, sweet, and sour— a tasty, mouth-watering combination.
“You are right, Shuri. We are both monsters. Waiting for the moment to reveal who we are.”
His pointy ears had heard everything.
Namor nods in satisfaction, pulling Shuri along who is still in a daze, he takes on the role to continue the search for delicious food.
"...You ate my fish."
Shuri was on the verge of throwing a tantrum when he ate the remaining of her tilapia, leaving no bits.
Now, the Queen of Wakanda looks silly holding a fishbone in one hand, the other hand being dragged by a man dressed in traditional clothes.
Everyone in Wakanda knows only royalty can wear that.
"I was just savouring the taste more carefully.” Shamelessly, he comes up with a lousy excuse.
"Oh." Dryly, Shuri glares at him and turns to pout at her fishbone, comforting that she could eat them again whenever she is free.
"Continue the show, My Queen. ”
But the more Shuri thought about it, the angrier she became, but he had dragged her too far away for her to turn around.
She angrily took off her slippers and stepped on Namor’s winged feet several times with hers, and he just let her, grinning ear to ear.
"Alright, Princess~ ” He coaxes her like a child, “I ordered someone to deliver it to your lab. I won't be there, so you can eat it all to yourself later. Is that fine?" He politely informs.
"At least you have some sense-"
"Oh, the order is on my name, plus the remark: Queen Shuri's husband and King Consort, don't mess it up. I told them to ensure the receiver must precisely say the full title of it, so it is Namor, Queen Shuri’s husband and—"
Shuri GRITS her teeth in anger. He had heard it all!!!! SHE KNEW IT!!!
She decided to let Namor experience her wrath merging with the enthusiasm of the food market. They would try various dishes, and hopefully, one of them would scare him off!!!
"Let's go try the ROASTED chicken wings, FRIED fish balls, BAKED smashed potatoes, SMOKED chicken, beef, pork, shark meat, and STEAMED fish and—"
"Alright, all of them sound good. Let's start with..."
They move forward together, ankle brushing against winged ankle, the back of his hand rubbing against hers, shoulders pressed against shoulders. Shuri and Namor banter while slowing their pace, with food in their hands, they admire the gradually setting sun in Wakanda for the first time.
"Oh, and after this, we can fly back to the Mountain of Bashenga. The sunset there is the most beautiful."
"Sure."
Shuri takes a bite of her roasted chicken wings, asking, "So~ How about the sun here? Although it’s not made of vibranium… It's pretty mesmerizing too."
The setting sun casts a warm, golden glow that gently kisses across the horizon, painting the sky with hues of gold and orange. In its fading light, the landscape of Wakanda transformed into a canvas of serene beauty, each delicate detail bathed in a soft, ethereal radiance.
The setting sun took away the fervent warmth, leaving only the gentle breeze accompanying them.
We blend in with the breeze and we sail with the wind
“She’s beautiful…” In awe, Shuri murmurs as she looks over her home.
As Namor watches his sun, his gaze fixed upon her, Shuri.
And his intense gaze never fails to waver her.
Let's go, you and I
"What? I'm letting you see the sun." Not me. Shuri knowingly and teasingly complains.
Let's go, you and I
Namor looks into her shining brown eyes, seeing the reflection of himself, and grins triumphantly. The breeze pushes him from the back towards her, he softly whispers,
"Yes. She isbeautiful."
Shuri is his sun.
Her presence illuminates his life with a similar warmth. Her grace and kindness, like the sun's final rays, added a touch of magic to every moment they shared.
Let's go, the two of us
And her love, like the sunset's glow, colouring their world with everlasting beauty.
Let's go, the two of us
The sun dips below the edge of Wakanda, leaving a lingering radiance that mirrors the love that continues to shine in Namor’s heart forever.