PRINCESS SHURI HAD A LITTLE HABIT OF FOLLOWING ZARINA AROUND. It began when she first started to walk, constantly rushing towards Zarina, much to her brother's chagrin, asking to climb up onto her lap or to help with whatever the older girl was doing. As time wore on, it became abundantly clear that, to Shuri, Zarina's words and actions were law, and if one wanted to find her, one only had to seek out the older girl who would often be blissfully unaware of the little shadow she had, trying to copy her every move and habit.

"Good morning, Princess," Zarina greeted with a smile, seeking out her father and finding him in the middle of trying to teach Shuri one of the more traditional aspects of their culture, though the girl seemed more interested in fiddling with the wires and spare parts he had gotten to appease her, much to the man's exasperation.

"Zarina!" the six-year-old cheered, racing over to her and pulling her into a hug, and the young woman easily scooped her into her arms, resting her on her hip.

"Shuri," she said, glancing over to her father who looked at her pleadingly, "Are you being difficult?"

The little girl pouted, shaking her head defiantly. "No."

"Yes," her father replied, running a hand through his nearly all-gray hair, "I am an old man, but not this old."

"You're as old as you are," Shuri called out, sticking her tongue at him, and Zarina watched the interaction closely, catching the slight lift of her father's lips as he looked at the little girl, and the way Shuri giggled softly into Zarina's shoulder.

"Am I being replaced?" she teased, moving to sit next to her father who reached out for Shuri, only for the little girl to smack his hands away.

"No," the man sighed, leaning his whole frame against the small table he and Shuri had been seated at, resting his head against the smooth surface, rubbing his hand, "You are much nicer to me than she is."

Shuri looked affronted at this statement, immediately reaching out towards the man who balanced her on his knee, the girl moving to fiddle with the collar of his clothing while he addressed his daughter.

"Why are you not with the prince?" he asked, and Zarina fidgeted at that, causing Shuri to try and copy her, only for her to nearly fall off Elewa's lap, if not for his steadying hand.

"Baba," she began carefully, shifting her position once more, "Do you think a man could love me?"

"I love you," he replied, feigning misunderstanding and she huffed in frustration, Shuri copying her.

"You know what I mean," she replied, and he relented, clearly seeing how distraught his daughter was.

"Well, Zarina, I would like to think you are capable of understanding something as simple as that, of course a man could love you, as could a woman or any person should they truly feel that way," Elewa replied, bouncing Shuri on his knee, the girl keeping quiet, however, as she could easily tell that something was amiss with the other girl.

"But, Baba," she began, wringing her hands together, "You know what I mean."

The man, in fact, did know, and found it very tiresome that the two couldn't seem to find it within themselves to detach themselves for a moment to look inward at their relationship, or at least communicate in some regard.

Youth.

"Zarina," he said patiently, "You've never felt like this before. Why now?"

She fidgeted, shrugging, thinking back to how she had seen T'Challa conversing with a girl he had run into, someone whom he would soon be the king of, and it wasn't in her place to feel as though he wasn't allowed to speak to another person, but she couldn't help the pang of fear and hurt at seeing it, then the ridicule she felt for herself for feeling that way.

She said as much and Elewa couldn't help but laugh. "Zarina...I would tell you that T'Challa is allowed to speak to whomever he wants, but I think you already know."

"I do!" she cried, throwing up her hands, and Shuri did the same, lowering them the way Zarina did, "I don't—I don't understand why it upset me, I do not control him, I should not be feeling this way, it is wrong!"

"It's okay to feel the way you do, Zarina," Elewa said softly, "What matters is how you react to it."

She dropped her gaze down to her hands, feeling her cheeks warm. "I...I have been avoiding him."

"That's dumb," Shuri said, and Elewa shushed her quickly.

"What did we say about calling people dumb?" he asked, tilting her chin to make her look at him, "You have been gifted with a mind others do not have. Do not use it to bring them down."

Shuri nodded solemnly. "Sorry."

"She is right," Zarina cut in, "It is dumb."

Elewa nodded. "I could see how you would think that."

Zarina sighed heavily and moved so she was lying on the floor, shaking her head and burying her face in her arms, pouting. "This is so hard...I don't like it."

Elewa reached out to run a hand through Zarina's hair, Shuri reaching out to do the same. "Since when does my daughter give up because things are hard?"

She simply groaned and shook her head and he sighed rolling his eyes, catching himself when he saw Shuri looking. Tapping her nose, he glanced between her and his daughter, thinking to himself.

"Princess," he began, bouncing her on his knee, "I think now is the time to let you meddle."

º º º

It was no secret that Elewa Elemide was terrified of the young princess. It was after her studies and they were taking a short break, which was optimal time for the young girl to show her tutor all that she had planned in terms of her sanctioned meddling.

"What if we lock them in his room with no way out?" she offered, huffing after he dismissed her idea of an incredibly elaborate invention that he did not want to be blamed for.

"That is all they ever do to begin with," he reminded her, and she giggled, nodding in agreement.

"Maybe we should talk to my brother about this," she offered, and Elewa couldn't help but smile at her eagerness; it was also no surprise that Princess Shuri loved her brother more than anything in the world, and while the young man was older than her by a substantial amount, the feeling was mutual.

"Zarina would never forgive us," he laughed, and Shuri was absolutely mortified at the prospect.

As the two continued to mull over ideas, the door to Shuri's room opened to reveal none other than T'Challa.

"Prince T'Challa," Elewa greeted, bowing his head in greeting, "How may I help you?"

T'Challa opened his mouth for a moment, then glanced at Shuri. He gave Elewa a look and the man shook his head.

"Trust your sister, T'Challa," Elewa said, and the young man sighed, taking a seat next to Shuri who quickly hid all her papers.

While confused, he ignored her, opting to look at Elewa with hesitation, opening and closing his mouth.

"Have I taught you nothing?" Elewa joked, "You know effective speaking."

"You are my tutor, not a diplomat, I will not treat you like one," T'Challa replied, leaning against the table, "I...I need your help."

"Why don't you ask me?" Shuri demanded, and he rolled his eyes at her, running a hand over her hair.

"Because you have no experience," he replied, turning back to his tutor with a pained expression.

"That I do have," Elewa said, smiling, "What experience are you looking for?"

T'Challa ducked his head, staring at his hands. "Women?"

Shuri groaned loudly. "Hopeless."

"You're barely even a child, what do you know?" T'Challa countered, frowning at her, and she grinned.

"More than you do, genius," she shot back, clearly pleased with herself, and T'Challa looked over to Elewa, shocked.

"She didn't call you dumb," he offered, and T'Challa felt oddly outnumbered in a room full of supposed friends.

"Do I know this woman?" Elewa asked, turning back to T'Challa's predicament.

"Y-yes?" he replied, clearing his throat, "Perhaps."

"Ah," Elewa said, feigning slight understanding; one shared look with Shuri let the little girl know that her brother was, in fact, lying.

"You want to date," Elewa said, and T'Challa nodded, shrugging, "It depends on who she is."

"What do you mean?" T'Challa asked, and the older man wondered if in all his learnings of diplomacy and royal demands, the boy had forgotten to live.

"Well, you wouldn't court Okoye the way you would Zarina," he explained, and T'Challa paused for a moment.

"How would I court Zarina? If she is different than the way I would court Okoye," he rushed to add, and Shuri rolled her eyes behind her brother's back, shaking her head.

"Well, if this girl is anything like Zarina, you would just need to find something it is you both like," Elewa offered, "Something you don't do together already."

"But we do everything together," T'Challa sighed, quickly adding, "The girl I am looking to court."

"Yes, of course," Elewa said, nodding and fighting back a knowing smile, "Well, is there something that you have solely for yourself? You don't have to compromise if it is too great, but if you are willing..."

T'Challa licked his laps, glancing over to Shuri who was rearranging her papers idly, hiding them from his prying eyes. He glanced back to his tutor who was looking at him with fond exasperation.

"There is one place..." he said carefully, nodding to himself and rising to his feet, "I think I know what to do. Thank you, Elewa."

"T'Challa," he called out, as the young prince made his quick strides to the door, causing the younger man to pause, turning around to look at him.

"Don't think so hard," he said, his voice dripping with the fondness only a father could possess, "It does not take a king to love another person. You might be the prince, but you are still yourself. Do not lose that."

T'Challa allowed himself a smile, one that Elewa hadn't seen in a long time. "I will remember that."

He left the room with a goodbye to his sister and the man, closing the door soundly behind him.

"Do you think he will remember?" Shuri asked, climbing into the man's lap, a large textbook in hand, waiting for him to read it out to her.

Opening to their bookmarked page idly, Elewa stared at the closed door. "For the sake of your brother, and the sake of Wakanda, I hope he does."

º º º

Later that night, Elewa found Zarina scrutinizing her clothes, eyes calculating and arms constantly moving, either on her hips, crossed over her chest, or flicking through the items of clothing, lips pursed in a thin line.

"Are you running away?" he teased, and she jolted, too caught up in her thoughts to be aware of her father.

"Baba!" she chastised, clutching her chest, "No, I...T'Challa asked me on...well, do you think this is a date? We are meeting tomorrow evening to a special place of his that he has not shown me. It is a surprise."

Elewa smiled and inclined his head. "I think that it is up for you to decide that."

She huffed and flounced onto her bed, bouncing lightly. "How did you and mother meet? I-I know you don't like to talk about her, but...was it like this?"

The man smiled and moved to sit next to her, pulling her nose and sighing. "Your mother...she was the one who asked me."

Zarina's eyes brightened. "Did she? That seems to be a Dora Milaje trend. But I always thought she was so committed."

"That was what I thought too, which was why I never tried," he explained, "But when she sought me out to ask, I said it to her, I explained why I never did. She told me—" he paused, swallowing the lump in his throat; he was not going to cry in front of his daughter, his wife would never forgive him and would probably laugh at him from where she was watching.

"She told me that she might be a Dora, but she was a woman. She loved Wakanda, but she also wanted to love for herself. Responsibility does not fight the individual, it embraces them. She did not expect a family from me, but she wanted to experience being a human."

Zarina listened carefully, watching the way her father's eyes watered as he swallowed continuously, how the hand that wasn't holding her shoulder was fisting into her sheets where he thought she couldn't see. She reached out and took his other hand, squeezing it in her own.

"Thank you for telling me," she whispered, "I am glad that mother asked you."

He nodded, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I am glad as well. Get some rest, you have studies to finish before you get to relax."

"Good night, Baba," she said softly, crawling under her covers as he turned out the light, retreating into his own room.

As Zarina slept, Elewa lay awake, silent tears falling as he convulsed in pain he had felt for too many years. His hand reached out to the side of the bed that would never again find the warmth he had cherished, fisting into the sheets he had once shared with another, but now kept to himself.

He thought of his daughter, who experienced but a fleeting touch of the boundless love her mother held for her, the love she should have felt for many years, the love that he could never give her, for he loved her with his whole heart, but not enough to make up for what he wished she could feel, a love he had felt and wished he could share.

There were so many in her life to give her love, and he could only hope she received it all, for all the knowledge in the world, not even the smartest person could explain the wisdom and truth of love.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

( 06.18.18 )

Things are a'happenin' ya'll, it only took me like twenty years to get us to this point, but I like to think that, considering how many years we've reached, this has been quite a slow burn, and while it might not seem slow burny-ish when things get rolling...we get a lot more slow burn afterwards.

I deadass cried writing the last scene, like don't @ me, crying Obama is not the Obama I want, thanks. But I loved writing Elewa, like, I know ya'll've been waiting for Obama, so here he be. I miss him so much.

Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed!