Nashuri Collection (Namor x Shuri)

History Pt. 4

A god was never nervous, so it had been said. They were all-knowing. When you knew the outcome of a situation, good or bad, there was no room for nervousness. Namor knew this more than anyone. Not that he was a psychic but humans were creatures of habit, and they made the same decisions and mistakes of their forefathers. They even had delusions of folly or reconciliation, which is why he couldn't understand why he had given in to Toussaint's plan.

K'uk'ulkan the Feathered God Serpent wasn't in any way nervous. Really. But the part of him that was undeniably man had sweaty hands. What was he expecting?

It wasn't as if he hadn't been in the Wakandan council room before, but it was usually under different circumstances. Strictly business in recent years. In the ones before that, it had been dedicated time to see his decadent Itzia. She would be giggling and trying to distract him during M'Baku's speeches with a new invention, to joke about her elders, or just to find out about his day. Oh, to cover the canvas of her skin with kisses was never enough back then.

For time to weigh on a seemingly immortal being felt paradoxical. But now the council room felt pre-charged with energy, flickers of electricity for what was to come. Either a new beginning or a disaster. Shuri would be the catalyst of it as she often was.

With his hearing, Namor would know the pitter-patter sound of her shoes. He could already see her eyes in his mind, dimmed but the smallest spark of light was still there.

His situation with Shuri was complicated. He couldn't afford to be of two minds with her. Acidity tainted some of their memories. He had never stopped loving her, and he didn't think he ever would.

But as a father, his heart would never stop hurting for his children either. Wakanda despite its shortsightedness was still a worthy ally. However, if it came to it, and only if it were deserved, he would crush the country to dust.

The ruminations of his mind didn't cease as he finger-combed his hair again and rubbed in the oil he spread across his chest earlier. He had on thick, gold-plated jewels, three blue feathers behind his ears, and a lovely aquamarine cape handsewn by Namora.

His cousin was surly but had as much finesse with weapons as sewing tools. She had never understood Wakanda's betrayal, and why he had spared so much of it. Flooding was the least he could have done to them. But how could he explain a few months' attachment to a foreign princess to her? So, he didn't. Even now, she prodded and suspected he gave too much leeway to a country that had slaughtered their own after such hospitality.

Talokan would always be his first priority to his final breath, but Shuri was a seed that had taken root in his heart. Not easily dug up. Where the wires stopped crossing was with him putting the interest of his people first.

He trusted Shuri, but not the council fully. Only the princess had integrity to him. Lord M'Baku was amusing and amiable outside of politics. But he wouldn't doubt the man had procedures in place should he no longer want to work with him. It would be futile, of course. He could see the hunger in the Dora Milaje' eyes too, wanting to run him through with a spear or a different weapon of choice and avenge their queen. He wasn't discouraged by this knowledge and welcomed it. At least, he knew where they stood, but for the last few years, it had been peaceful Wakandan-Talokan relations.

It could have been peace between the two from the very beginning. If they had just listened to him. The colonizers and the present descendants of evil and greed wanted infighting, strife, and confusion with the owners of vibranium. How much would they salivate to know of another country with the same material?

With protecting their people and vibranium, Shuri and he saw perfectly eye to eye. They had always worked well together. She was inquisitive and creative, and he knew how to plan and protect. He had experience ruling, but she had a fresh perspective.