I fully intended the last chapter to be a one-shot. But a couple hours after posting it, I was inspired to write this chapter, showing how Harry and Shuri have dealt with their break-up.


Ulysses Klaue knew he was a shit human being.

He killed, murdered, stole, all for money. But the man wasn't an idiot.

In fact, Klaue was rather intelligent, it was how he'd survived as long as he had. But the world wasn't exactly kind to the son of an unrepentant Nazi colonel. As a young man, Ulysses found himself facing a choice, one that defined his entire life. He could be a law-abiding citizen, but without wealth, without a college education, he'd be stuck working a low paying job and struggling to survive paycheck to paycheck. Or he could become a soldier, a killer, and actually build some sort of life.

Turned out he liked being a soldier. He liked the thrill, the adventure...the challenge. Then, becoming a mercenary and assassin, that was even more challenging.

"He loved it.

By the time he'd committed his first true murder, Klaue had already been a killer. The only difference was that that murder had been for his own benefit rather than some governments. The world was cruel and hard, and the only person he needed to look out for was himself.

That had changed when he'd found out about Harry.

You could say whatever you wanted about Ulysses Klaue, insult him and degrade him, but one thing no one could argue about was the fact he loved Harry. Ulysses could honestly say he'd done his best to raise Harry and prepare him for the world, in his own way of course. The fact his son had magic and was a wizard didn't really change anything for the older man. Despite their best efforts, the magical world wasn't as secret as they believed, especially in the...lower parts of the world, for lack of a better term.

It was why Ulysses was looking around in disgust, his usual carefree, mocking, and joking personality gone as he looked around the apartment his son was currently living in.

The apartment was unclean, bottles of alcohol of all kinds scattered everywhere, with boxes of takeout set out to rot.

His son, his beloved boy despite his age of twenty-three, was passed out on a stained couch, in unchanged clothes. His once clean shaven face was covered by an unkempt, scraggly beard. His once neatly trimmed, though constantly untamed, hair was long, tangled, and greasy. What was worse was the fact that Ulysses could tell his son had lost a significant amount of weight since the two had last seen each other. In his son's left hand, hanging of the couch, was an empty bottle of whiskey. In his right hand, clenched to his chest was a framed picture...perhaps the only thing in this shithole of an apartment that was clean.

Klaue reached out and gently took the frame from his son's hand, knowing the lad would never forgive him if it was damaged. It showed a beautiful young African woman...the woman his son had planned to propose to just a year ago.

In that moment, Klaue had never hated the Wakandan's Royal family more, if only because of the state his son was in because he fell in love with their princess.

This...This couldn't go on. Ulysses had tried to let Harry live his life, to be a good man. But the boy was self-destructing. It was time for some tough love.

Setting the picture aside, Klaue reached out with his real arm (his right, he'd lost his left to that crazed robot of Stark's called Ultron a week after his son's graduation from Oxford) and slapped his son. When he got no reaction, he slapped him harder.

It took three slaps for the boy to open his eyes...the once shining emerald color dulled by the alcohol that was no doubt still in his son's system.

"Dad?" Harry slurred.

Grabbing the front of his son's shirt, Ulysses, hoisted him into a sitting position. "Get up," he growled lowly.

"Yeah...yeah." Harry said, lifting the empty bottle to his lips, only to frown at it as he realized it was empty. He dropped the bottle, and grabbed a partially filled bottle of rum that was sat nearby.

Ulysses didn't give him the chance to drink any. "Give me that!" he demanded, even as he pulled the bottle out of his son's hands. "That's enough."

"Enough of what?" The way Harry was speaking, Klaue doubted his son even knew he was there.

"ENOUGH!" Klaue yelled, at the same instant he solidly punched his son, knocking him over the couch.

"What the FUCK!" Harry yelled, glaring at him.

Klaue was just glad to finally get some reaction out of the boy.

He stormed around the couch and picked Harry up by his shirt, pressing him against the wall. "I am sick and tired of watching you try to slowly kill yourself boy!"

"I'm not...

"SHUT IT!" Klaue yelled, "I'm speaking, not you. No girl, no matter how much you love her, is worth this. You're going to come with me now. I'm going to keep an eye on you, since you apparently need a minder like a child. And if you so much as touch a bottle of alcohol, let alone taste a drop, I swear, I'll give you a beating you'll never forget. You understand me boy?"

Harry glared at him

Ulysses slammed his son back against the wall, "I asked you a question boy! Do you understand me?!"

"Yes."

Klaue dropped his son and stepped back. "Clean yourself up. You smell like a carcass."

The arms dealer watched as his son gave him one last glare before making his way into the bathroom. When he heard the shower start up, Klaue allowed himself to sigh as he ran a hand over his face.

Pulling out his phone, he called his men that he was traveling with.

"Get another seat to Busan, we're bringing someone else with us once our job in London is done," he ordered, without giving his man any chance to greet him. After getting the confirmation of his order, he hung up.

"Fuck," he mumbled to himself as he put his phone away. The heist from the museum wouldn't need any changes, but what the hell was he supposed to do with the boy when he met the CIA? Assuming that crazy Americans Intel was correct, and they'd be stealing vibranium


To everyone else, Shuri was perfectly normal.

It was really only Queen Ramonda that noticed the change in her daughter since she returned from England. Shuri spent more time in her lab, often working herself to exhaustion and falling asleep at her workstation. This hadn't been unusual before she had gone to England, which was perhaps why no one thought anything was wrong. But it happened almost constantly now.

As a result, Shuri had made numerous advances to Wakandan technology over the past year, and that only reinforced the idea nothing was wrong.

But Ramonda...she saw the occasional look in her daughter's eyes that showed just how broken heart she was. She'd seen Shuri searching the globe through her electronic connections trying to find the boy that had broken her heart before she promptly closed them.

The Queen wished she could help her daughter. But Shuri had built walls around her heart as strong a s vibranium itself, even if she disguised them so well that neither her father, brother, or others could see.

She still remembered the Dora informing her of the state they'd found Shuri in that night. T'Challa had of course been furious over how a colonizer had broken his sister's heart. But Shuri had never let any hint of the boy's name, or a picture of him be shown to anyone. The letter he left for her was locked away so only Shuri could read it.

The princess kept a chain around her neck, tucked under her shirts, that Ramonda knew carried the ring the boy had left behind. The only reason Ramonda even knew of it was the rare occasion she'd caught her daughter just looking at it, a heartbroken look in her eyes. The ring promptly disappeared whenever the Princess realized someone besides her was present.

What hurt Ramonda most was that there was nothing she could do to help her daughter. Shuri had kept any information about the boy close, and had refused and rejected every overture, subtle and not so subtle, from Ramonda, T'Chaka, and T'Challa to help her.

She could only hope that one day, her precious daughter could heal.

"What are you thinking about?"

Ramonda turned to find her husband standing at the entrance to the bedroom, she had been sitting on a lounge they kept on their private balcony as she thought. She smiled at her king, and her love. "Shuri," she admitted.

T'Chaka sighed. "I have to admit, I would not realize that anything was wrong if you did not point it out to me," he said sadly as he walked over to sit beside her. "It saddens me that she won't talk to any of us, even T'Challa."

"You are a king my love," Ramonda told her husband, giving him a small smile. "You have many responsibilities. I am, sadly, unsurprising that you did not realize anything was wrong. You love our children, I have never doubted that, but being King...demands much time, especially now," she assured him, referencing her husbands work with the Sokovian accords.

Her husband smiled sadly. "T'Challa and I leave for Vienna tomorrow, perhaps when we return, I'll have time to speak with Shuri."

"Even if you can't help her, I know she will love the time spent you you my love."

T'Chaka chuckled. "It is almost time for dinner," he said as he stood. Holding out his arm he asked, "Would such a beautiful woman such as yourself, deign to dine with a lowly man as I"

Ramonda laughed. Standing, as she took her husband's arm, she said, "How could I turn down such an offer...even if it is beneath me," she joked back with him.

As she walked with her husband, Ramonda hoped that after her husband and son returned from their meeting with the United Nations, they could all help Shuri heal.


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