14. Hot Springs
They were in Namor's private hot springs. She was surprised to see the closest thing to a bathhouse in Talokan. But the water was deliciously warm, and she almost had the place to herself. If he hadn't been the one to personally escort her, she could have been the only one there. But how else would she have found it without the risk of drowning? Her Black Panther suit had been upgraded, but a depleted oxygen tank was still a dead Shuri. So, no chances could be taken.
She had asked him before if only to break the silence, "Do Talokan men and women bathe together?"
"Some families with small ones do, but men and women are often separated," he said while disrobing. "Outside of couples, no, the bathhouses are separate."
Of course, the king can bathe wherever he desires, Shuri thought. Mentally, she rolled her eyes.
She watched as he removed his arm bands, jewelry, and feathers. When he reached for his shorts, Shuri immediately turned away until she heard him enter the water. She had undressed as quickly as she could, hiding behind one of the large rocks. Not knowing if it were worth telling Namor not to look and if he would've obeyed or not. But she was too desperate to feel water, actually warm water, on her skin to complain. All the stress seemed to melt off her once she relaxed in the water.
A shot of steam wisped up into the air disrupting Shuri's thoughts.
Namor's body was submerged in the water. Foggy steam wafted between them. A droplet of sweat ran down her cheek. Only his curly head and his nose were above the water. His gaze was unmoving.
The sweat droplet left a trail before rolling under her chin. Those eyes of his followed every curve and diversion.
"Stop it."
"Hmm?"
Shuri called him out. "You're like a duck bobbing its head every few seconds. I can see you, y'know. Staring at me."
He smiled, lifting his head. No shame. The distance between them was already small. There was only a set of rocks and a thin, opaque divider as a barrier. The divider was like a tennis net, letting each of them clearly see over it.
She hated it, really she did, but she found herself smiling back at his unabashedness. She laughed even, before his gaze sucked up all the air in her lungs. Well, at least it felt like it. He had a way of looking so intensely as if he were trying to see through a person. All he could see of her were her topless shoulders.
"Beckon me to come closer."
She paused and swallowed. The images of what could transpire flew rapidly through her mind.
"Why?"
"Find out."
"Come," she said.
And he crossed over to her side.
15. Reunion
Namor almost gasped at the pure tranquility. The beauty of it. The ancestral realm was just as Shuri had told him. He saw moving rivers and waterfalls, vast fields of beauty, and a light cast down by sunset. A thin rain was falling from the sky. A sunshower.
He felt most at peace when surrounded by water. It had after all been his people's lifeblood.
Namor blinked a few times, checking his surroundings when he noticed three men near the river. The family resemblance was obvious. Two older men and one elder greeted him.
He questioned, "How am I here?" Namor didn't have his headdress, only a white robe, and slightly longer green shorts. Was he here as a mere man, not any mutant or god?
These weren't his ancestors.
The man's smile was kind with a small gap and dimples.
"They say all people have a common ancestor found in mother Africa," T'Challa said, folding his hands. He seemed as patient and kindhearted as Shuri described. Immediately, Namor liked him. "Or, maybe our vibraninum herbs have a mind of their own."
T'Challa had more he wants to say it seemed, but he was promptly cut off by a more muscular man. The other man wasn't dressed in the traditional Wakandan attire and his long locs have been grouped into a bun. There were piercings on his chest, covered partially by a white coat. Killmonger, Namor thought, then recorrected to Erik. How their enemies addressed them was not their true names.
"So, you're the fish guy?" Erik said, giving an appraising look. "My little cuz should've made a fish fry out of you."
"N'Jadaka, always to the point," T'Chaka said in a mix of amusement and chastisement. He knew that Shuri's father had killed her uncle for the good of Wakanda. Namor could offer no judgment, especially with his own actions. Perhaps, if amends couldn't be made on Earth, they could in the afterlife.
"No, no our N'Jadaka doesn't have time for pleasantries. Y'know this one spent some time in Mexico on a study abroad trip, learning Mayan languages." T'Challa laughed. "Don't stare too long, K'uk'ulkan he may steal your throne."
T'Chaka bent down to sit on a smooth rock by the riverside. The rock hadn't been there before, but anything seemed possible here if someone willed it.
The elderly man agreed. "N'Jadaka has, how do you put it? An aggressive soul. A takeover spirit if you will. He doesn't get that from his father. My brother was emotional but very calm, quiet even."
Erik rolled his eyes, frowning.
He whirled away from towering over T'Chaka to pointing at Namor.
"I get my resilience from my mother, from her bloodline. They just mad because I take care of business. I'd never leave my people defenseless, scratching and surviving. Treated like second-class citizens in their own country. They've no idea about the racial barriers, the blatant sabotage my people have endured and excelled in spite of. Hell at every corner. Well, those flames made me who I am."
Namor immediately liked him too despite the 'fish guy' name. What was it with Wakandan men and the inability to say his name? Still, he understood Erik's tenacity and determination. Having to care for everything himself, which was one of the reasons he had been desperate for an alliance against the surface world.
T'Challa placed a hand on Erik's shoulder in concern. T'Chaka extended nothing. He sat unbothered.
Namor watched the exchange closely. There was still unresolved anger between Erik and T'Chaka. The ancestral realm didn't fix past relationships, but it did provide the space to communicate if one desired.
T'Challa continued, "I meant no disrespect, N'Jadaka. Only that you're so resourceful I could see it happening. It's funny in one day you turned everything upside down."
Erik relaxed at that. Still frowning, but the hurt in his voice died down as he said, "I had no help. I got it on my own, and they can't stand it. No vibranium. No royal guards. No Black Panther. Just me."
T'Challa gave a weak smile, but the light in his eyes was bright. "Well, we cannot change our pasts, only our circumstances. I'm pleased to have all eternity to get to know you better." He turned toward Namor again. "And to know you for as long as we've you here."
T'Chaka said nothing, but his expression spoke volumes. Once the old man took a look at him, really looked, he turned his gaze elsewhere. Apparently, the presence of another king perturbed him.
"I understand you're occupied with your being dead and all," Namor addressed him. No one would disrespect him, dead or alive. "But in my country, we look each other in the eye. I'm not beneath you."
"I hated fish on Earth, and now it pesters me here as well. Ah, Bast you're cruel."
Both T'Challa and Erik grinned at that. Namor only narrowed his eyes. Be civil, he thought.
T'Chaka focused on him again. "Well, I can't be too angry. You brought my dear Ramonda here at least."
He had been alive for over 500 years, but Namor cannot think of a moment more awkward. The ancestral realm didn't provide much sound. There were no birds or sea creatures to distract from the conversation.
Namor felt the buzzing tension, but the man sounded grateful. T'Challa's eyes swam with emotion for a moment, but it passed just as quickly.
"I did what I said. That's all." Namor never reveled in his kills. He only did what was necessary for his people's protection.
Erik leaned against a tree that suddenly appeared, enjoying the exchange. T'Challa seemed to pace, wondering whether to intervene or not.
T'Chaka waved his hand as if shooing away the previous statement.
"More importantly, you and my grasshopper... I understand you two have a relationship."
Namor nodded. A flicker of surprise on his face.
"Yes, we watch over you two," T'Challa answered for him. "You two had an interesting "meet cute" as my love would've said."
It gave Namor a strange, warm feeling to know someone, Shuri's brother at that, was watching over him, a god. It was nice. He hadn't been worried over and protected since his mother.
Erik gave a smirk that turned into a genuine smile. "Don't worry. We not watching that closely, now. If you getting busy, I'm elsewhere chilling with my pops."
Namor was a grown man, so he wasn't embarrassed by carnal activities, but here was another awkward moment so quickly after the first.
"So, I have a niece," T'Challa brought up, walking closer. He changed the subject with such ease as expected from a practiced ruler. A pair of pink baby clothes appeared in his hands. "Her name's Esishle, right? Beautiful child. Toussaint and she are thick as thieves."
Already Namor loved his brother-in-law dearly. Blessed man.
"Yes, her name's Esishle. I call her Izel though," Namor replied proudly. "Her mother says she acts like you as a child."
When the happy tear slid down T'Challa's cheek, Namor almost wanted to cry too.
When Namor comes to, all he could focus on was the blinding room. For a few moments, he has to squint at the bright light overhead. Then, his vision cleared. Shuri was at his side in her lab coat and goggles. He was strapped to a table, and she unleashed his restraints once she realized he was awake.
The first thing she does is pour a bottle of water over him. He wanted to retort, but the water admittedly felt good. It was hard to measure the time he was away in the ancestral realm, but he felt better being less dry.
"So, how'd it go? Did you see your mom?" His wife asked with no trace of malice. She leaned over him. "Did you see mine?" Now, a small bite of bitterness.
As an immortal, cycles were far more interesting than time itself. Reoccurrences were fascinating as were links to the past or future. It was beautiful in a way that his mother's bracelet is what connected them. He had gifted Shuri the bracelet because at once he could see no one else more deserving. And because she had such an analytical mind like his mother's. The same soft eyes calculating and thinking of everything, hidden behind a smile. In a way, his mother led him to her. Even funnier, her bracelet is what almost did him in—gave her the power to make him yield. But really her intelligence accomplished that first.
He rubbed at his eyes, shaking his head.
She reached for his hand, helping him sit up. He didn't need the help, but he relished her closeness.
"I saw neither, but your brother says hi."
The difficult journey to the ancestral realm was worth it, at the sight of his Shuri's watery smile.