Nashuri Collection (Namor x Shuri)

History pt 2.

Toussaint tried to keep his hands from sweating any more profusely than they already were. The seashell almost slipped out of his grasp. A breeze from the sea made his very inconspicuous trench coat flutter in the wind.

He blew into the shell once more for good measure. With shifty eyes, he kept an eye out for the Dora or worse.

After some time, Toussaint saw him bubble up from the sea. His face was somewhere near hopeful and surprised before it turned to steel. The ember of something bright snuffed out at once in his soulful eyes, and a face of impassivity was left behind.

"Shur—Young Panther, why do you summon me?"

Toussaint had to fight not to smirk, but Bast was it hard. Of course, Namor was disappointed. The one time his aunt sought to meet him outside of a council meeting only for it to be someone else.

Stalling, Toussaint answered with a question. "You call my aunty by her name? That's treasonous in Wakanda. You could be hanged right now," he lied.

Namor lifted his eyebrow the slightest. "You think I could be hung? Many have tried to defeat me only one has managed," he whispered at the end. "Besides, we're equals."

"Yeah, but everyone I know calls her Princess Shuri. Wakandans may take offense to you doing that, K'uk'ulkan. Should I still call you that?"

"Are we enemies?"

The young boy paused. He didn't think they were, but with the way other Wakandans spoke of him maybe they should be.

"Choose the one that suits me best in your eyes. I've many names as does your aunt."

Toussaint's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "How so? The royal family doesn't really use surnames—we use parentage and ethnic group to differentiate ourselves. She has one name, Shuri."

"Not to me." The answer said everything and nothing.

Waves rushed back and forth leisurely on the sand. They would wash away the evidence of his footprints and his meeting with Namor.

Almost tiredly, Namor asked again. "For what reason do you call me?"

"Yes, Na—Ku'uk—King of Talokan," Toussaint swallowed. He had no history with the man to know how else to address him. "My aunt sent me here in her stead."

"You're a poor liar."

Every etiquette lesson disappeared and only sheer brattiness could emerge, "What? I'm not! I trick my manman all the time, and she knows me."

Namor folded his hands. "When you've seen the lies of the surface dwellers as I have, you learn the cues. Yours—your nostrils flare and you wring your hands."

What could he say to that?

A dark tone seemed to settle into Namor's voice. He ventured closer to the shorelines as if stepping on land would declare something. Cause something to move.

"Your Queen Shuri—"

"Princess. She never took the throne," he interrupted and from Namor's look, he wouldn't again. The man's patience and goodwill had an end as his aunt had repeatedly said. A faint chill went down his back.

"Yes, Princess Shuri hasn't sent you, so what are you scheming this time? Trying to lure me out won't end well. I promise this." Namor gave the smallest of smiles. "The former queen could attest to this if she were here."

He still didn't know the story between Queen Ramonda and Namor, so he was clueless about any deeper meaning. However, this was the fourth or fifth time he had spoken to Namor, and there had never been any shenanigans. Well, until now, but how could he have known that?