Chapter 2
They say that your ancestors are always waiting with advice if you are only brave enough to reach out and ask for it. Shuri didn’t feel very brave right now. She sat at the water’s edge, staring at the long-dead embers of the fire in front of her. What remained of her funeral garments would drift away in the wind come morning, but for now she could still see the smallest hints of white underneath the soft orange glow. She tried to do what her mother had said before, by the river, before that man had come into their lives and ruined it all.
Her eyes fluttered closed, and she took a shuddering breath, trying to focus only on the thoughts of her family. The Queen Mother’s voice had been solid and commanding in her ear on the beach as she’d fought Namor. If she reached for it, maybe she could hear the woman’s voice once more. Nothing came through. A gentle shift in the breeze, a quieting of the birds, and a slight pressure on her shoulders were all that greeted her. Try as she might to convince herself that these were signs of her family, she couldn’t shut down the rational side of her brain that scoffed at such childish beliefs. It wasn’t her father’s hand that quieted the birds, nor her brother’s words that changed the air. It certainly wasn’t her mother’s arm that blanketed her shoulders. It was all just her, and a desperate attempt to cope with the loss she’d been faced with.
There was once a time when she and T’Challa would sit and elbow one another as their Baba told stories of the ancestors and life after death. When Umama would braid her hair and tell her of the traditions of the different tribes of her country. She used to gaze up at the stars and see heroes and warriors of old smiling back at her. Now she saw only gaseous energy and potential dictators seeking to wipe out half of all life as she knew it.
A mangled sob wrenched itself free of her throat and suddenly she was crying. Broken screams mixed in the salty air with apologies and curses. She wrapped her arms so tightly around herself that she felt bruises form, but it still wasn’t enough. It wasn’t her family holding her. She’d been forced to become a god, embodying the Black Panther in all of Bast’s glory in order to protect her people. But the time for war was over, and now she was nothing but a child. A child shaking and crying on a beach far, far away from her home.
She felt small, and broken, and every bit the failure that she knew she was. She screamed until her voice was raw. Even then, she forced her voice past its breaking point until nothing but squeaks and gasps could come out anymore.
“Mother. Father. T’Challa. Why, Bast? What kind of god are you? How dare you rip them away from here? You selfish, monstrous beast! They believed in you! They believed in your stupid traditions, and you still let them die! So why? Why did you take them from me?", The words flowed from her mouth, unbidden. Merely more than whispers, she begged for answers from the deity her family seemed to love and respect so wholeheartedly.
She sunk down until her forehead touched the sands and begged.
“Take me. Why didn’t you take me?”
She was a woman of science, a non-believer. She expected no answers. She didn’t get any. Yet somehow that hurt more. Come morning, she would gather herself and return to Nakia and her nephew. Come morning, the time for grief would be over and she would return to her duties. Until then, she let the pain rip her open and pour out to soak the sands with her tears. Until then, she grieved for the futures that would never be.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”, she trailed off into the night.
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The sun rose the next day and her tears had all dried up. She could no longer feel her throat, and her lips were dry and cracking. But the ashes had settled where the fire once was, and now was a new day. With a numb resignation, she pulled herself up. First to her hands, then her knees. Slowly, shakily, she made her way to her feet. It turns out that hours spent keeled over in sand wasn’t good for your back. Cracks and pops followed the movements of her joints as she gathered her discarded blanket and began her slow return to the house.
When she pushed open the door, she found Nakia waiting with a cup of tea at the table and nearly burst into tears again. The war dog said nothing, but nudged the steaming cup towards Shuri with a smile and a squint to her eyes. Grateful for the small family she did have left, she sat down and took a small sip, letting the liquid wash over the roughness in her throat. It was amazing what a soothing cup of spiced tea could do to calm the turmoil in her heart.
Nakia stood up and busied herself with making breakfast in the small kitchen as Shuri finished her cup in silence. The atmosphere changed somewhat when Toussaint came bounding into the room, already dressed for school with a bag slung over his shoulder.
She straightened her shoulders as he sat down next to her with an excited “Good morning Auntie!”.
Smiling was easier when he was around, and she found herself relaxing into his company as he chattered on about what his new project in school was going to be. She happily listed all of the different ways she had managed to grow plants back in her lab before a sharp cough and a playful glare cut her off. Nakia’s voice was teasing as she scolded her.
“Shuri, don’t go putting ideas into his head about hydroponics or whatever it was you were doing at eight. The whole point is for the children to work with the materials they have.”
Her eyes rolled on their own at Nakia’s insistence to do things the old-fashioned way, a trait she’d had since they were children. But, since it was her house, it was her rules. Shuri relented with both hands in a sign of surrender as a soft laugh escaped her lips.
The rest of the morning passed with light conversation and a sense of the mundane before Nakia set out to drop Toussaint off at school. In the meantime, Shuri busied herself with cleaning up the kitchen and organizing what meager belongings she’d brought with her here.
The war with Talokan had ended when she’d clipped the Feathered Serpent’s wings, and now more than ever she couldn’t bear to be away from her family for long. For that reason, she’d made a small home for herself in Nakia’s guest room with the promise of doing all the chores around the small house, save for cooking. Somehow, despite being able to achieve feats like sequencing a long-dead herb from nothing but a bracelet and some blood, she always managed to make the most inedible concoctions possible whenever she entered a kitchen. Nakia tried to insist that she do no chores at all, but she needed something to do with her hands or else she’d go mad while the two were away at school.
She was startled out of her idle musings by the front door opening, and she curiously peaked her head around the corner at Nakia taking her shoes off in the entryway. She called out to her.
“Sister? What are you doing back so soon?”
Her overactive brain tried to jump to the worst-case scenario, but if that was true Nakia wouldn’t be calmly slipping off her shoes, she’d be burning down the whole island. Taking a calming breath and pushing back the pressure that’d seized her heart, she tuned back in to the older woman and found a set of apologetic eyes staring back at her.
“Shuri, I know you do not want to discuss anything to do with politics right now, but I’m afraid that the Elders won’t stop asking until you give them a formal address. I’ve started getting their communications now that they know your mourning period is over and I’m afraid I can only hold them off for so long."
Her tone was soft, as though the crown princess was a frightened animal that would startle at too loud a sound. Shuri felt irritation shoot through her spine as her back straightened in defiance. I’m not some antelope ready to make a run for it, for Bast’s sake.
“I told the Elders all there was to say. Besides, M’Baku is capable enough as King, why aren’t they asking him?”
Nakia sighed as if she was expecting that kind of response and put a hand to her forehead.
“Sister, you know as well as I do that the Elders are worse than our old schoolteachers when it comes to formalities. They’ve likely already accepted the situation in their minds, but for the sake of tradition they’re going to put up a fuss about it."
She pursed her lips and ran through all the possible outcomes of ignoring the Elders’ requests and sighed as she realized that none of them allowed her peace in the end.
“What do you propose I do?”, she asked. Nakia looked startled for a moment before quickly masking her surprise with curiosity.
“Why are you asking me? I am no politician, merely a spy and a warrior.”
Quiet washed over the pair for a moment as Shuri considered her answer. Because you’re better than me at understanding people. Because you were closer to my brother than anyone else, and he was the best at these things.
Eventually she settled on saying, “Because I value your insight. We both know the Elders aren’t fond of me. They likely rejoiced when they realized I had sent M’Baku in my place as ruler. If I were to address them as I am now, I wouldn’t be surprised if I accidentally offended one of them to an early grave."
A snort came from Nakia’s side of the room as the woman tried to suppress her laughter.
“Mmm, yes I imagine you’re quite right about that,” she mused. A look passed over her face for a moment before she moved from her place in the entryway and towards the kitchen table.
“Come, sit. I will help you draft the important bits. Namely, the arrangement between you and M’Baku surrounding the throne and, of course, the terms of surrender of King Namor and his people". At the second statement, Shuri froze. Curse it! Had she truly been so caught up in her vengeance and desperation that she’d never laid out official terms beyond “Yield”?
Nakia seemed to pick up on her discomfort and quickly added, “It’s fine if there aren’t any, it’s just something they’ll want to hear”.
Resigned, Shuri sighed and began to lay out the events that had transpired over the course of the short-lived war, all the way up to her agreement with M’Baku upon their return to the Golden City. Nakia patiently made notes on a spare sheet of paper and began drafting a succinct speech for Shuri to use as a template for her address. She was once again struck with a wave of gratitude for Nakia and all her mercies.
The pair passed the day like that, preparing documents and arranging travel plans for Shuri’s, hopefully brief, return to Wakanda. As much as she didn’t want to leave her nephew and sister for longer than a day, she knew that the Elders were a problem she’d have to deal with sooner or later. At least she could try to get all of her affairs in order at once back at the palace so that she could return here to Haiti and continue spending time with her family. The transport was set to arrive after dinner, and after a misty-eyed goodbye and a promise to bring back gifts, she gave one final hug to Nakia and Toussaint and headed back to Wakanda.