Black Panther: Rise of the Princess (COMPLETE)

Chapter 18: Shuri

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"Where are we going?" I asked T'Challa, but he wouldn't give me an answer.

"Just keep close," he said quietly, lengthening his strides so it was difficult for me to keep up. I followed him for some time before realizing he was taking me down to the chambers again, back where the Heart-Shaped Herb was kept. He must want to talk about something important, but what? All I had done was suggest that I stay back for the mission.

He ushered me into the room and shut the doors securely behind us. Resting his hands on the handles, he breathed deeply and did not move for a long time.

I walked up to him and rested a hand on his shoulder. "T'Challa?" I asked quietly, almost afraid. What was making him like this?

T'Challa didn't turn around just yet, but he covered my hand with one of his, squeezing it just a little. I rested my head on the back of his shoulder and closed my eyes, hoping that whatever was about to happen, that he was going to be okay. We stayed that way for a minute or so, remembering that we still had each other left. Father had died, and Mother was now in a coma, and even Nakia was injured, but he was still here. My brother was still alive. It was enough, for now.

Finally, after an eternity of silence, he spoke, not as a King but as my brother. "So many people have shed blood, Shuri." His voice was surprisingly steady, but I could hear the worry in it. "I don't know if it is safer to keep you here, or to bring you with me to Sweden."

I didn't know how to respond, mostly because I no longer knew either. Normally, I would say that Wakanda is safer than any white man's country, but I don't even know that anymore. If HYDRA is in Wakanda, then perhaps it is no better than Sweden. If HYDRA is in Sweden, though, I would rather be here. Either way, they wanted to hurt T'Challa, that much was certain.

"I'm more worried for you, brother," I said eventually. "It was you they tried to kill at the parade."

He chuckled lowly, and finally turned. "If they were smart, they would know that you are the one who threatens them the most."

I laughed, but at the same time, I noticed tears trickling out of the corners of his eyes. He really was scared of losing the people he still had left in his life. Reaching up, I wiped them away with my thumb and found a smile inside of me, for him. "I don't think HYDRA is that smart, T'Challa."

"I don't want to risk that chance, Shuri," he explained, "and I don't plan to." He turned me around and nodded to the gardens, dimly lit by small torches on the wall. "You remember when Baba used to train with us here?"

I smiled as the memory returned. It was true, T'Challa was King, and the Black Panther, but Father had taught both of us how to fight. In time, I turned from fighting with my fists to fighting with my mind, but I still remembered the nights we would spend sparring against each other, and running through the palace, pretending we had the black suit on. I had even made fake claws for us to practice with. It was one of my first projects in the lab.

Smirking, I teased him, "You never figured out how to beat my hook move, you know."

"Stop it," he complained, shoving me, just like he used to. I giggled, and walked forward. I stood in the spot I had learnt from, and looked to where Father had stood to teach me. If I focused, I could still hear him speak.

"It is true, only T'Challa will be King one day, but the Black Panther is a warrior, a mantle, for anyone of royal blood who might be brave enough to accept it. You may be younger than your brother, Shuri, but he will need your passion and your light, even as a King. He will always need you, by his side, and ready to help him. Perhaps you are not meant to rule, but I assure you, there are far more important things that power in this world."

I didn't understand Father that day, at least, not entirely, but it had never bothered me that I would not be Queen. It had never appealed to me in the first place. I was much more content in the lab, building things and helping people through inventions. When Baba died, though, I grew closer to T'Challa, and I started to understand what Father had meant about passion and light. T'Challa started coming to me when he was tired, or drained, especially if Nakia was out on a mission, or visiting her family. All of a sudden, my brother began to lean on me almost as much as I leaned on him for support.

No matter what happened, I promised myself, even before Father died, that I would always help T'Challa if he asked for it. It would not matter if I was halfway around the world, or if I was sick, or angry, or dying, I would always help him. So far, I hadn't broken that promise.

"I've spoken with the Council," T'Challa said from behind me, interrupting my thoughts. "They were unsure and confused at first, but they agree with me, as I hoped they would."

"Agree about what?" I asked, and he walked up to me. At first, he did not move, but out of nowhere, he brought his fist around for a punch. I dodged it, and, remembering Father's training, I redirected it to T'Challa's own stomach. He punched himself in the side, and I dropped low and kicked his legs out from beneath him.

I stepped back, preparing to counter his next move, but he just looked up at me and smiled. That's when I realized what he was trying to say, what he had spoken to the Council about.

He wanted me to become a Black Panther.