Nashuri Collection (Namor x Shuri)

History pt 3.

Okoye crossed her legs, setting the cup of black tea down.

"Repeat this again with sense, Toussaint," she told him.

Toussaint sighed, shifting in his chair. How many times would he need to go over this?

"When Aunty arrives for her council meeting with K'uk'ulkan, lock the door. I've already reached out to Lord M'Baku not to show up, and an anonymous—but oh so handsome—caller let the elders know the meeting would be held elsewhere. Shout out to the Udaku voice modulator."

She narrowed her eyes. The sun's rays from the window brightened the whole room and lit her face. Toussaint was sitting at the table with her, full of the sweets Okoye could now indulge in as a former Dora Milaje.

"Elsewhere?"

"Uh, maybe Jabari land, Canada, or somewhere else. I forgot, really." He nervously chuckled. There was no way Okoye could kill the next ruler of Wakanda. But a non-fatal injury was still on the table.

Wet foot slaps distracted Toussaint. Attuma had returned from one of his multiple daily showers as Talokans needed to stay hydrated. He raked a hand through his wavy, water-locked hair, passing into the kitchen. As he walked by, he brushed his hand on the small of his wife's back. The small gesture softened Okoye by 25%.

Toussaint rolled his eyes amusedly. Uncle Tuma was good at redirecting her wrath or annoyance. The two worked well together.

Okoye firmly declared, "Tutu, leave this mischief behind. You're no child."

"Oh, so now I'm a child, but any other time I'm—" he cleared his throat. "—A child who acts with no consequence. Juvenile. Naïve."

"Is this your poor, poor impression of me?"

Giving a snort, Toussaint replied, "Uh, yeah. First of all, that was a banger impression! Right, Uncle?"

Attuma absentmindedly searched for flour in the cabinet. "I desire to live another day, Stingray. You should do the same."

"Okay, okay. Let's forget my amazing impersonations for a moment. Shouldn't Aunty deserve some happiness? Maybe they just need to get everything out in the open."

Okoye moved from the small table to stand in front of him. Soon, he would be taller than her, but for now, he looked up.

"It's by Bast's grace and your Aunty's mercy that I don't gut that fish man where he stands. He took too much from Wakanda." She hissed into his ear.

He waited a bit for the explanation, but it never came as usual. "But he gave you your husband too. Inadvertently at least. Isn't this a conflict of interest?" Toussaint gestured at the other towering fish man in the kitchen.

"No, I never let love, and especially not men come before my loyalty. Ask W'kabi." Okoye looked resolute, and he could see no waver in her.

"Who?"

The door to the oven shut. Recently, Attuma had become obsessed with baking bread. Wakanda had access to different spices and flour than Talokan.

Attuma answered for her, smirking through his water respirator. "The scraps before she met a real man."

"Tsk. Tsk." Okoye sucked her teeth. "My ex-husband. We were an arranged marriage, but it was good, lovely even, until it wasn't. Love isn't always enough, little one."

"I know that. I just want to help." Toussaint thumbed the embroidery of the tablecloth. It was styled in the colors of the Border tribe, metallic silvers and warm blues. "He loves her, and she loves him."

Okoye squeezed his hand.

"There are few who can say they love Princess Shuri more than I. All of this fallout—I've some part to blame. She wouldn't have met him without me."