When you move
I'm put to mind of all that I wanna be
When you move
I could never define all that you are to me
Movement- Hozier
Shuri believed in the Ancestral Plane in the way one was with an unrequited crush. It was an experience of growth; something learned and carved out in her soul, shoved between the belief in science above all else and the belief that her family loved her.
By this, she meant that she held on to the tentative, almost fragile hope that it was real, that she may be so lucky to see her mother, father, and brother when this life was done; that she could believe in it if she didn't look too hard, or think too much about it, despite having two experiences she knew that would solidify things for most people.
But that was the trouble of it. It hadn't been for Shuri. She would not call herself devout to the old traditions, even after taking the Heart-Shaped Herb. Who was to say that her visit with N'Jadaka was not her own anger giving her the answer she wanted to hear? Or that seeing her mother in her fight, just for that brief second, was not an illusion conjured up by her dying mind?
No, this belief felt far shakier. But, Bast, Shuri wanted to believe. It was like wanting someone you knew, somewhere, who didn't want you back. But you would never ask, never push, because learning the truth of it- that those feelings may not exist- was a far worse fate than just letting yourself foolishly hope all the while.
All of this was to say that she did not hold any sureness that dreams were real. They were your brain, at night, trying to make sense of what had happened. There was nothing prophetic about it. You were not visited by ghosts of years past. If you saw someone who had died, it was grief outpouring into your subconscious.
This is at least what she told herself. She didn't often recall her dreams, but she woke every morning with whisps of memories. Never anything firm enough to be sure, but she would often wake with a vague idea of her standing on one side of the Ancestral Plane and her family standing on the other. Never approaching. Just waiting, or watching.
Or perhaps disapproving.
She could not be sure how her family would have taken her choice to give up the throne, but Shuri knew she had no desire to take it.
But the dead had no voice, at least, not in Shuri's world. She told herself her dreams meant nothing because the thought that her brother, who she held in such high esteem and had loved so fervently, might be angry with her choice was something far too much to bear.
She knew she'd always been the odd one out in the family, but what happens when the black sheep is the only one left to carry a legacy?
Shuri, in all her deep soul-searching, still hadn't figured that one out.
XXX
The meeting with M'Baku had gone something like this; Shuri, in her lab, cleaning out her wound. Namor's staff had gone clean through her. So clean that it could not have been an accident. If he had wanted to, he could have killed her right then and there with it.
But he hadn't. Even though Shuri had tried to kill him.
She thought about that fight far more than she'd ever tell anyone. Not just analyzing the ways she'd made mistakes, the things she'd have to learn as the Black Panther, but she'd analyzed each sound he'd made, each shift of his feet in the sand, and each expert movement.
She told herself it was to become a better fight.
(Shuri was an expert in lying to herself.)
"That looks like a warrior's wound," M'Baku said, who had been in his fair amount of scuffles and combats before, "You should let that scar over. As a reminder."
"Perhaps," Shuri had said, knowing she had all the tools at her disposal to vanish it from her skin, as though it never happened, "The mantle of King. Are you going to fight for it?" She asked, too overwhelmed to bother with small talk. She had plans to leave tomorrow for Haiti to finally let go of her mourning clothes. And then, after that?
She knew where she should be. On the throne, here. Like her mother, brother, and father before her. And countless other ancestors before that.
A position Shuri had never imagined to be in, nor had ever wanted.
She was the spare, right? The heir and the spare. But it was the modern world, and not Game of Thrones where characters died left and right (a new, modern obsession of hers), so why would she ever imagine for a moment she might actually have to come to face that?
"No," M'Baku said, "I am much different and have more years on me compared to the man who fought your brother all those years ago. Besides, I fear you would most certainly win if I did," He said with an echoing, low laugh.
"Oh," Shuri scowled, "That is not what I expected."
"You…want me to fight you?" M'Baku asked, confused.
"No," Shuri snapped, wincing as she rubbed antiseptic on the wound, clenching the table so hard the metal dented, "I want you to take the seat."
"And kill the Black Panther?" He asked, almost frightened, "Do you wish to make Wakanda hate me? Have I been such a bad mentor to you?"
"I won't be there to fight you. It will be a very easy win." Shuri said, "And of course not. I think highly of you, thus, my question…or rather…my request."
M'Baku was quiet.
"You wish for me to be King? Why would you not take the throne? You are the last survivor of your line, and you are the Black Panther?" He said, confused, "The Black Panther is always..." He trailed off, pressing his lips into a scowl, almost angrily. Just as Shuri was frustrated this would not be as easy as she'd hoped, she was sure M'Baku was just as troubled. The moment he decided to grow up, Shuri was begging him to go back.
"Not everyone wants that much power. I did not even want this, but I don't think I can walk away from what I am now. But I can step away from from the crown," She let out something between a laugh and a sob, "I would be a terrible queen."
"I don't think you would," M'Baku said, "You care deeply about your people. You may not be the most traditional, but you have learned much. You have taken on so much, and I've seen you grow from it, not buckle under the weight."
"M'Baku, trust me," Shuri said, "You would be a far better ruler. I feel safe leaving Wakanda to you. I will be here, of course, if you allow me my lab. And I will protect Wakanda. That will always be true."
"Are you sure you don't plan on fighting me at the last moment for it? That this is not punishment for trying to take it from T'Challa?" M'Baku asked, suspicious. And in some ways, this thrilled Shuri. She knew she was a far different Black Panther than her brother. Perhaps a little rougher around the edges, less honorable.
"Though the idea is tempting, no." Shuri said, "This will be the easiest fight you've ever been in." Shuri assures.
M'Baku stares at her for a long time, as though sussing out if she is truthful or not. Finally, cautiously- with more carefulless than she's ever known him to have- he grins.
"I have always thought I would look handsome on the throne."
XXX
The transition from heir-apparent Shuri to 'Black Panther Shuri & King M'Baku' is not seamless, but no change in life ever is.
There are those that feel as though Shuri is turning her back on her rightful place. She does not have to imagine this is what people think. Plenty tell her to her face.
There are those that feel that a woman should not be the Black Panther either. And some don't have specific issues with her being the Black Panther, but rather take issue with the ruler of Wakanda not having those powers while someone else does.
But all of this does not matter.
Shuri has learned to harden her heart to such opinions. The only opinions that matter are her family's. And the only ones left to speak to it are Nakia and Little T'Challa. Her nephew is far too young to have opinions and Nakia, better than anyone, understands the need to step away from something you love for your own sake.
It is not as though Shuri has abandoned Wakanda completely. She spends all her time in her lab, bettering their society. She protects the borders from those that would seek to hurt. She trains with Okoye so she is the best version of the Black Panther that she can be. She gives her everything to Wakanda still. If she knows this, the chatter or disapproval of others is just static noise.
M'Baku asks this question of her once, a few months later, out of nowhere, as they are walking to another wedding. Near-death experiences cause people to marry or have babies or both. So many new children. So many weddings.
"You would give anything to assure Wakanda's longevity?" He asks.
Shuri narrows her eyes, confused, "Have I not already?"
"But you would give more when asked?" He prompts. She knows there is something he's fishing for, but with all of her great intelligence, she's never been very good at reading social interactions, and this one leaves her feeling like she is navigating this conversation on a raft with no paddles.
"Yes," She says warily, "I will give the whole of myself for Wakanda. Why?" She asks, frustrated to see no change to indicate how she should take this conversation.
"Just a question," M'Baku laughs it off, though Shuri thinks this is no laughing matter, "A confirmation."
Shuri knows it is more than that, but in all of her re-playing of this conversation, she cannot possibly figure out what he may be referring to.
XXX
When M'Baku visits her in her lab, she knows it must be serious. Though he now can agree that the advances in Wakanda are what help keep them apart from the rest of the world's petty fights and keep them safe, he isn't a fully changed man, no more than Shuri is a devout traditionalist now. They've found a common ground together, both changed; M'Baku lets her keep her lab and more or less leaves her alone, and Shuri wrangles with the idea that the Ancestral Plane is real.
M'Baku coming down here would be the equivalent of Shuri willingly wearing her traditional garb to a council meeting, where she holds a seat, or arriving at an honoring to the gods. Her presence would be equally as startling to those in attendance, as it is to everyone in the lab.
Without being asked, knowing that this must be something of gravity, everyone scatters.
"What?" Shuri asks, "Are we in danger?"
But M'Baku's demeanor is hard to read. If there was a threat, like a Thanos-level threat, there would be more franticness in him. Or he wouldn't have bothered coming down at all. He would have contacted her through one of the thousand ways to get her attention. She doubts he's at all curious about the things she's working on down here. His eyes stay focused on her instead of climbing over the various projects and walls of equations.
"You chose not to heal the wound," He says, nodding to her sternum, where the scar is peeking over the waistband of her leggings.
"No," Shuri agrees. This seems to please M'Baku, but Shuri doesn't even know why she let it scar over. Perhaps a lapse of good judgment, but she knows at any time, she could fix the place Namor's spear drove through her, but she is unwilling.
She has not dived into those reasons, unsure she is ready to find what truths may lurk in this action.
As she watches M'Baku, she realizes why she was not able to classify how he was feeling, because it is an emotion she has never seen in him. Apprehension. This makes her worried in turn. The day that M'Baku learned some restraint and concern must be a mighty important day overall.
"Why are you here?" She demands, "You are nervous. I did not think the great M'Baku was worried of anything."
"There are many things to make one wary when you hold the fate of all your citizens, Shuri," M'Baku says, which is a politician's answer. She's heard many of those in all her years, so she knows it well. She perhaps didn't expect M'Baku to be able to give one so easily. That's what she's always admired about him. He always said exactly what he meant. Or, he used to, before he was King.
"Just out with it. This isn't a friendly chat, nor do you care what goes on down here."
"I do care. If it were something that could threaten us, I would care. You scientists often stop to ask yourself if you 'should', only asking if you can," He accuses, and before Shuri can volley something back, he shakes his head, the old M'Baku peeking out, the one always two seconds away from a fist fight pushed back down, "But you are right. That is not why I am here."
"Can we wrap this up, then? My polymer is nearly done, and I would hate to ruin weeks of experiments because you are too scared to say what you came here to say." Shuri says. She is glad she still knows that baiting M'Baku works and shoves him out of this weird emotion he's in.
"Namor contacted me."
Shuri has to remember to breathe for a moment. Her first emotion is jealousy; why would Namor be contacting M'Baku, and not her? It's absolutely stupid, but she's spent nights on the shores where she first met him, sometimes almost hoping he'd appear. Why she wants to see him again feels as clouded in mystery to her as divination efforts, and almost as useless.
Then, she remembers that he is Wakanda's king and Namor is Takolan's king, so of course, he'd go to M'Baku.
Still, this information bothers her, like a thorn in her side, pulling some emotion from her that she doesn't know what it is, and frustrates her.
"Has he?" She manages to ask, raising an eyebrow, "It has been six months."
Six months of expecting Namor to come to her; to fight, to argue, to get back at her for taking his wings, just to find that he's chosen someone else to communicate with.
"We've been in conversation for a bit longer," M'Baku says, face absolutely expressionless, "We have been trying to figure out our allegiance to each other."
"Have you now?" Shuri asks, and her tone is far more accusatory and sarcastic than she meant it to be.
But M'Baku is already probably a far better king than she would be Queen because if anyone talked to her like that, she'd be furious. And she expected him to be. Instead, he laughs, as though he knows a secret that she doesn't, as though something was just confirmed.
"He wants a show of goodwill. We both saw the havoc that we each can lay upon each other."
"It makes sense to ally," Shuri agrees. She's more than miffed because this seems so redundant, so obvious. It's what she had made Namor promise all those months ago. It's not like this is some shining, brilliant idea from M'Baku. She wants some acknowledgment that she figured this out first, that she was the one who decided they would be stronger as guarded friends than vengeful enemies.
"Namor wants a promise and a token of a future where we stand together, not alone."
Shuri almost preens. Obviously, M'Baku must be coming to her because she is so knowledgeable about Namor that she may have an idea of what to get him. And she wants to spill out her truth, but she worries if she starts she'll never stop.
So, Shuri feigns disinterested with her best and most sacred tactic; humor.
"Ah, I see. Well, I say get him one of those fancy edible arrangements and be done with it. The really expensive kind, with fruits I wonder if he's ever tasted," She replies, grinning. M'Baku is silent, as though goading her, so Shuri makes a bigger spectacle of it, "Or! Or…I know. Get him a Starbucks gift card for $500 dollars. No one I know would be unhappy with that."
M'Baku's brow twitches and Shuri knows that she has him exactly where she wants him. You see, this is twofold. First; annoy the heck out of M'Baku and get him to leave. Having him here in her sanctuary feels like he's ruining it somehow.
Second; prove that she has no claim to Namor compared to anyone else. Well, he might actually like the edible fruit arranged to look like shooting stars, but she knows far well that he would have no interest in Starbucks, that is if he even knows what it is. And though Shuri is dying and slightly angry that he didn't reach out to her, at least she knows where she stands. As a nobody to him. A former princess thrown aside in favor of someone with the power here. She thought that he respected her role as the Black Panther, but alas, she was mistaken.
A foolish, far too hopeful, bright-eyed child.
This should teach her.
So fine! This will end her thoughts of him. M'Baku will probably gift him some very expensive brick vase from a thousand years ago, something traditional, and Namor will politely accept it like you do when given a token from a fraught allegiance with another nation. Ramonda used to laugh all the time about the things they were given from the USA, Canada, France, and England…you didn't want to insult the diplomats, but in general, 'tokens' were useless.
Except…
Shuri's fingers brushed over the sleeve that hid Namor's bracelet.
She'd been compelled to re-thread it afterward, and put it back on. She figured it was safest on her, instead of laying in a jewelry box in her room.
She had grown fond of it, not just for the gift it had given her. There was something else, some other emotion that tied her heart in knots whenever she thought about the gentleness with that Namor had tied it to her wrist.
"While I'm sure those would be lovely," M'Baku gritted out, as though the idea of an American coffee stand being worthy of anything physically painted him, "Namor had already named his request. And he was very specific about it."
"Oh?"
The wiring that Shuri had been working on all this time, able to have a conversation and do complicated mechanics at the same time an absolute breeze, fell onto the table.
Somehow, this tone of M'Baku was asking her full attention, and something curled up her spine, like a warning.
"Yes, in fact," M'Baku stared Shuri down, smiling, but it almost felt too bright, forced, "He will accept no other show of mutual friendship of our two great nations."
"What does he want?" Shuri demanded, on the edge and anxious now.
"You."
XXX
As Okoye will retell it, though Shuri's lab was fortified with heavy-duty soundproofing, because experiments were often noisy, the decibel at which she screamed at M'Baku could be heard two floors below, which prompted Okoye and the other Dora Milaje to respond at once.
And they found the most curious of scenarios; Shuri, at full power, screaming bloody murder at M'Baku. And though he towered over her and probably could have taken Shuri on, even as the Black Panther, and made a hell of a show of it, M'Baku shielded himself from her attacks and cowered at her fury.
When Shuri went to throw something at him, that's when Okoye intercepted.
XXX
"Let me go!" Shuri wrenched her wrist from Okoye's grasp, "And let me bash his head in with this coil of cables!"
"He's our King," Okoye reminded.
"I don't care!" Shuri snarled, her eyes flashing, as though the Black Panther would leap from her at any moment, "He deserves it!"
"Perhaps someone could tell us what is going on?" Aneka asked, standing in front of Shuri, just in case she tried to give Okoye the slip and lunge for something that, if thrown, could do some real damage. Like the set of pointy tools just to her right.
"He wishes to marry me off! To Namor!" Shuri sputtered, "Like I'm a prized cow."
"You twist my words!" M'Baku thundered, now rising to full height, "You were requested because of how special you are. You are the Black Panther. You are our country's savior. You are the smartest girl in the world. And he is a god that recognizes what we all see."
"Marriage?" Okoye choked out, "She's a child!"
M'Baku gives. a glance over to Okoye, almost frustrated, but Shuri can tell he's equally as relieved. Okoye has always fought for Shuri, even if she pretends she doesn't want to. It's the next closest thing Shuri has to family, apart from her real sister-in-law and nephew. The only family here, Shuri reminds herself.
"I know you are soft on her, but she is of marrying age. You know, girls far younger than her were often married to people who respected them far less." M'Baku says, diplomatically, but Shuri knows one more errant comment from them and this whole conversation will just be an 'order from your King'.
"Oh, so it's okay for me? Because I have a few years on them and Namor…he…he…" Shuri was shaking so hard that she felt like she was about to burst, "If he wants me so badly, why did he not ask me?"
"Because I am your King and a matter of this should be decided by me," M'Baku said, "You are still a Princess, whether or not you gave up the throne or not, and have the possibility of being a Queen. I would not even consider an idea with anyone else."
"You ask too much," Shuri scowled, emotions swirling deep in her stomach, impossible to parse out. Embarrassment, anger, naivety, jealousy…and just a tiny flash, so quick she almost couldn't recognize it, but want. A desire.
M'Baku sighed, his shoulders weighing heavily, "I am not asking," He said quietly, but everyone heard it just fine, "I am telling."
Then, he flinched, as though he expected her to throw something as hard as she could.
Instead, Shuri just stared, gaped, horrified.
"You…you cannot."
"I can. As your King. You elected to take away the power that would give you that choice. You didn't want to make choices. I'm doing it for you." M'Baku said, sounding like a stern older brother, something Shuri did not like at all.
"But…I'm the protector of Wakanda! I can't just…leave."
"T'Challa spent time outside of Wakanda, and he was king as well, on top of it. Namor has promised to never keep you from your sacred duty here. But Bast, Shuri," M'Baku sighed," I hope we won't need your skills for a good, long, while. And I mean that with as much compassion as anything."
"Some peace may be nice," Aneka murmured quietly, "I might get a chance to actually re-do the kitchen like I've been promising Ayo. Granite countertops, new hardware...all of that."
A few other Dora members gave quiet agreements, throwing out domestic items that, of late, they'd been unable to do. Such simple, almost laughable things. But so important to them all, Shuri realized.
A list that Shuri did not have. She had things she wanted to accomplish, of course, but none were so effortless or simple or domestic as wanting to paint their daughter's room or go on a weekend trip with the boy they'd been seeing for six years or read six books in a week.
"You gave us our peace, don't you not want a hand in keeping it?" M'Baku asked softly.
She found that her voice was stuck in her throat.
There was life after war, she reminded herself inwardly, for what she felt like the thousandth time. There was life after war and most people liked to live that life.
But Shuri wasn't sure how. She felt like, for so long, she'd been thrust into battle; starting with her father's death, and then Thanos, and then coming back from being gone to a world metaphorically on fire, and then her brother's cancer and now Namor. At the very least, he'd given her what she so desperately needed; someone to fight.
Because Shuri didn't know how to do anything otherwise.
Of course, she wanted peace. She wanted peace for everyone. But as she watched the faces of the Dora, all warriors able to put down their weapons, and even M'Baku…she wondered…if peace was not possible for her, not ever. She was raised to be how she was because of these battles. She could not so easily shed her pelt and grow old in stability, even if she was given the choice.
"I…" The anger left Shuri in one rush.
And at the same time, she did hope she would not have to bring the Black Panther out, and somewhere, she'd forgotten that if that other side of her was coming to play…things were bad, and it was a huge threat to her people. And that was bad, wasn't it? So shouldn't she do whatever that meant to reach that idea of peace, as unrealistic to her as it sounded?
And isn't this what she wanted? For Namor to recognize her as a formidable player? That had to be it, right? Why else would he so vehemently insist that it needed to be she and it needed to be a wedding?
"Think, Shuri," M'Baku said, "What's that American saying? Keep your friends close-,"
"And your enemies closer," Shuri echoed, "I suppose marriage is as close as one could get." She winced, almost feeling foolish for her outburst. Of course, M'Baku was not playing matchmaker or treating her like a tradable chess piece. He was treating her like a valuable espionage asset, someone who was practically begged to come to their foe's own house, snoop around, and call it a day.
"Won't he be doing the same?" Aneka asked.
"Of course," M'Baku agreed, "I expect that. And I would almost be inclined to think that's all this is…a political power move. Except," He wiggled his finger. Shuri raised her eyebrows.
"Except?"
"Except he would move the seas to get you for his wife. And I think that means something."
Shuri felt her face grow hot, as though M'Baku's admittance that he had a 'thing' for her would somehow reveal that perhaps, she had one for him back. That she dreamed of his body, fresh out of the water, and the way his eyes seemed to raze her up and down.
"We can use that," Okoye murmured, but her voice was far away, "If this is to happen without any room for getting around it."
Shuri gulped hard, bringing herself back to reality and away from daydreams of Namor's chest.
At least, some traitors part of her whispered, that consummating a marriage would not be the most loathsome task in the world.
"Hush!"
Everyone paused to look at Shuri, who realized with extreme embarrassment that she'd said it out loud.
"Uhm, sorry, no, Grigot is in my ear," She lied, "And blabbering about some test result that doesn't matter with all this considered."
Her fib seemed to satisfy everyone, mostly because she always had Grigot in her ear. Only Okoye narrowed her eyes in thought, almost asking why he didn't come overhead on the speakers, as was more accustomed. Whatever she thought she had concluded, she kept to herself.
"So…" M'Baku said, looking far wearier than Shuri recalled. Taking on the health of a nation really aged one.
Except for Namor, who probably looked as handsome as the day he officially took the throne.
"If this is to happen, I want to talk to Namor first," Shuri demanded, jutting out her chin, "My…husband to be." She said, trying the words out on her tongue. It felt odd. She never imagined she would be the marrying type.
But perhaps, if it had to be someone...well, there were plenty of worse choices.
"That's more than fair," Aneka agreed, nodding to M'Baku, "Wouldn't you agree?" She prompted when he hesitated, though she didn't know why. She held back a snort at the idea that maybe M'Baku was worried she would stab him and be done with all this talk of marriage.
"Fine. I will summon him, It may be a few days, though," He said, hedging. Shuri smiled, amused, and feeling superior that she would know so distinctly that M'Baku was wrong and that she would be right about this.
"Namor has been waiting. I'm sure if I go out to the water tonight, he'll be there."