As Above, So Below - sphinx81 (2024)

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

Okoye always appreciated the vibranium her homeland was blessed with, proud of how the head of her spear tore into the asphalt of the bridge. It illustrated her strength to stop herself from being flung over its edge from the massive blow of the bizarre shark man's brutal strike. Her arms ricocheted with pain but the adrenaline coursing through her veins allowed her to ignore it. Her focus was on her enemy in front of her.

Except he did not strike. Rather, he strangely waited for her to recover. Some twisted form of honor from him. The same that had him kicking her spear back to her. At least she prevented him from killing the scientist. While impossible to understand his words, she had the distinct impression he found their fight amusing.

Her rage had no room for it.

Behind him, the woman with the fish fin headdress sounded annoyed as she addressed the shark man in whatever language they spoke. Hanging in her hand was a woven cloth containing some sort of weighty circular object she began whipping around in Okoye's direction. The Dora Milaje yanked her spear from the damaged ground and snapped it out sideways in front of her for an impending attack.

"WAIT!" Shuri yelled.

Awake and running towards the shark man and fish woman, she desperately stretched out a hand to the duo. The fish woman paused her efforts as Okoye's eyes widened at the sound of GRIOT activating its translation software on both their kimoyo beads.

"I am Shuri, princess of Wakanda!" Shuri declared, GRIOT translating. Okoye was proud of how firm the princess' voice sounded. Unwavering, despite the fantastical situation they found themselves in. How much she'd grown in this last year. Okoye only wished that returning from the snap with her brother only to lose him forever to death hadn't played a role in Shuri's rapid maturity.

"I demand that you take me to Namor," Shuri ordered. "Do not bring harm to this girl!" she pointed back at Riri.

"Do we take them...alive?" GRIOT translated the shark man's question to the fish woman. He casually braced his scythe over one broad shoulder while the fish woman held hers at attention.

Seeing the two blue people with their backs to her and not paying attention, Okoye silently crept forward. She refused to have her princess kidnapped.

The fish woman looked between him and Shuri. "Yes, Attuma," she retorted.

"NO!" Okoye shouted, speeding past them and leaping in front of Shuri. Holding her spear out in defense with one hand, she snapped out a protective arm while shoving Shuri behind her. Ignoring Shuri's hand grabbing her shoulder, she snarled, "I will kill you both before you take the princess!"

Okoye ignored Shuri's protests. Her eyes furiously locked to the fish woman angrily furrowing her brows as she lurched forward with her spear brandished in front of her. The shark man's shoulders heaved as he stood back. He watched Okoye, eyebrow arched. Yet he did not engage.

Was he laughing at them?!

"Okoye-"

"Retreat, Shuri," she hissed, never taking her eyes off the fish woman attempting to start circling them.

"But Okoye-!"

"I said retreat, Princess-"

"General, I am ordering you to stand down!" Shuri yelled while gripping Okoye’s upper arm.

Okoye froze. She would've looked back to Shuri in shock if not for the threats in front of them.

The princess never pulled rank. While the Dora Milaje were her sacred bodyguards, they regarded each other as family. Okoye knew Shuri from birth. Watched her grow into the genius that brought Wakanda a new renaissance with her tech. Yet she took an oath to always obey the royal family and their throne.

She could not defy them.

Okoye slightly relaxed her stance. However, she didn't take her eye off the fish woman and shark man as she muttered out the side of her mouth, "What, by Bast, are you playing at, Shuri?!"

"It's a gamble, no time to explain now," Shuri whispered so that neither of their kimoyo beads would pick up a translation for the blue water folk to hear. "Trust me," she dropped a gentle hand to Okoye's back, “Hopefully no one else has to die if this goes according to plan."

“What plan?!” Okoye sucked at her teeth.

“I’m…buying us some time!" Shuri huffed.

Okoye could care less about colonizer police or their burning cars behind her. She shot a glance to the side of them where Riri was only just now beginning to groan awake. These...people wanted to kill an innocent young woman whose invention fell into the wrong hands by no fault of her own. They nearly killed Shuri. The shark man tried to kill her, her arm still flaring with agonizing pain from where he whipped her into the staff of his damned scythe.

Then again, she had no choice. Her princess ordered her to stand down.

The queen would strip her of her position and dishonorably discharge her from the Dora Milaje if anything happened to her daughter. Perhaps banish her from Wakanda forever. Even imprison her with her traitorous husband. Yet all she could do was have a little faith.

Okoye slowly backed up and set her spear upright. She pounded it into the ground twice with her good hand before standing at attention. Nevertheless, she still used her body to continue blocking Shuri behind her. The shark man co*cked his head at her, black eyes narrowing for a quick moment before nodding, as though to himself. Okoye curled her lip in derision at him.

She heard Shuri's audible sigh of relief before GRIOT translated her words. "Take me to Namor."

Who was this Namor?! her mind frantically spun.

Stepping out from behind Okoye, the princess waved at her bodyguard before pointing a finger at Riri sitting up behind them. "All of us,” Shuri ordered, “Take us to him." She turned to look at Okoye, emphatically adding, "If he guarantees no harm to us, we will do none to him."

The fish woman and shark man exchanged skeptical looks before the shark man passed her his scythe. Slowly approaching Okoye, he silently took off his rebreather and dumped the water from it as he eyed her.

The fish woman did the same, having handed off both their spears to the three other sea folks now standing close behind the blue duo. She approached Shuri. Despite her shorter stature, her unwavering presence reminded Okoye of Wakanda's greatest warriors. She showed no fear as she firmly took Shuri by the upper arm and pulled her towards her.

"Breathe," GRIOT translated the woman's quiet order just before she pressed her rebreather to Shuri's mouth and nose. Okoye didn't expect the fish woman to hold a light hand to Shuri's upper back. She kept it there as Shuri's eyes slid shut and she deeply inhaled. Within a few seconds, the princess appeared easily able to breathe.

Seeing her unharmed, Okoye snapped her attention back to the shark man sauntering forward to loom over her. His glittering gaze swept her face in open assessment. Outside of the blue skin, he looked like a normal, albeit heavily built human. Wide, slightly hooked nose with a white bone nose plug, high cheekbones and a heavily carved jaw with a dimpled chin met her. The shark teeth embedded there certainly was a choice.

Okoye found herself standing up straighter under his examination. At least her cut to his cheek remained. A small comfort that these strange people could be harmed as she collapsed her spear and clipped it to her bodysuit.

The translation of his gruff order echoed from GRIOT. “Breathe,” he said, same as the fish woman.

Okoye refused to let herself shiver with trepidation at the heavy feel of his large hand pressed to her upper back. She stared him down as the oddly gummy feel of his damp rebreather affixed over her mouth and nose. A rush of clammy air filled her nostrils as he slid down a button on the bridge of the rebreather. It sent a sharp tingle through her body, almost like a shot of adrenaline.

Yes, that had to be it. Certainly not the way he hauled her forward flush against his wide chest as his burly arm tightened around her back. Or how his nearly black eyes locked with hers.

Wait…was the corner of his mouth turned upwards?

“Breath,” he repeated as she stubbornly stared up at him.Okoye finally took a deep inhale.

Except her limbs suddenly felt unresponsive. Her head swimming, her heartbeat roared in her ears despite how she struggled to keep her eyes open. Terrifying panic rose in her as she tried to break out of his embrace to frantically look for Shuri and Riri. Except her body wasn’t responding.

The last thing she recalled as the darkness clawed her down to the depths was the shark man’s husky voice at her ear.

“Do not fight, warrior,” GRIOT faintly translated, “I have you.”

Chapter 2

Chapter Text

The chemical co*cktail in the rebreathers assisted in keeping the throats of the Talokanil from drying out on the surface. The rebreather on the gills of their necks actually allowed them to breathe on land. For surface dwellers, the facial rebreathers could render them unconscious on the right setting in the nose bridge. In this state, they'd never know the secret paths to Talokan. The chemicals would also help regulate their body temperature in their long exposure to being submerged.

Attuma strapped himself and the sleeping warrior woman to the saddle of his whale after he dove into the river under the bridge. The press of her firm body to his chest allowed him to wrap an arm around her while he used his other hand to guide the beast under them. It was impossible to ignore how perfectly she fit against him. As though she was always meant to be there.

He told himself he held her so tightly on their ride back to Talokan to ensure she didn't freeze to death. Apparently surface dwellers ran cooler than his countrymen.

Namora's narrowed eyes of suspicion at him throughout their journey said otherwise. For she'd strapped a sleeping Shuri to her back. The three other warriors who accompanied them shot Attuma curious glances, though they said nothing. They stuck to chattering among themselves and wondering how their God King would react to surface dwellers entering their realm. Not just one but three of them. For an also unconscious Riri was tied between two of them on their own orca.

Attuma's thoughts drifted to his battle against the Wakandan warrior. He couldn't understand her words as she mercilessly drove the tip of her spear into the ground and prepared herself to face them. Nonetheless, her indignant expression combined with her pretty snarl made it clear how seriously she took the protection of her princess.

He still assumed his other three warriors would quickly best her. For surface dwellers were weak. Arrogant and pampered, their bodies were unable to take the seas. They fought and murdered each other for scraps. Polluted the waters. Stole resources. Destroyed the precious environment they relied on to keep the earth's temperature viable.

He never regretted killing a single one. Anything to keep his nation and people safe from their diseased practices.

Yet this warrior put down his fellow countrymen as easily as she breathed. If not for their healing factors, she would have slew them in seconds. Not one of them landed a single hit to her. No matter how they fought her all at once.

He circled her to study her attacks on his way to kill the scientist. She moved with fluid strength, never faltering as the arc of her spear venomously twirled and swung to cut them down. Her deadly force combined with the way she danced in an array of brilliant strikes? Mesmerizing. Like watching a hurricane sweep and churn the seas in all its hypnotizing glory.

He yearned to tussle with her again. And in more than this sort of way. Pushing her to her limit, testing the various ways she could push him to his.

Namora proved the only warrior who could match him (well, save K’uk’ulkan. No one in Talokan was a god's equal). She and Attuma were two complementary sides, the sun and moon. While she bested him in hand-to-hand combat, Attuma's skills lay in the study of the spear. The fierce Lionfish focused on the deadly strategies that would allow the predator Shark to lead and rally their warriors in attacks. The duo of them unstoppable, they never failed in a mission with their combined strength.

Until now.

Admittedly, it wasn't exactly a failure. Rather, unexpected circ*mstances resulting in shifting mission parameters. He took note of the princess' bravery in demanding an audience with his God King. Like the warrior, she too did not falter.

Attuma wasn't privy to K’uk’ulkan's plans for these unusual surface dwellers. He was content to take orders to ensure Talokan's continued existence. At the same time, something stirred in him concerning this mission. Perhaps fate was about to guide them all to a shift in paradigms from which there was no escape.

Upon reaching K’uk’ulkan's grotto, only a slight twitch of the God King's eyebrow indicated his surprise at seeing so many surface dwellers. Namora quickly explained Shuri's request. Along with the fact that the only reason they didn't kill the scientist per her king's orders was due to Shuri's status as royalty.

Satisfied, K’uk’ulkan cradled Namora's chin in his hands and pressed his forehead to hers, giving thanks for her safe return. He then directed his servants to prepare food and clothing for their guests. He also had them situate the sleeping scientist and princess in a large hammock in the air-filled cave next to his. With that, he returned to his seat at his painting desk and dismissed everyone but Attuma.

The general continued carrying a still unconscious Okoye cradled to him, one arm under her shoulders and his other under her knees. Her exquisitely dark skin appeared luminous in the eerie blue light cast from the glowworms perched along the ceiling and dripping stalactites.

Namor immediately took in how Attuma stared down at her. As well as the fact that she didn't seem to bear any outward injuries. Sitting at his painting table, he let out a brief rumble of interest as he tossed his pale colored cloak over a broad shoulder.

"My son," he quietly addressed the general, "It appears your mission did not go to plan. Who do you bear in your arms?"

Attuma's head snapped up from where his gaze curiously traced the intricate, sharply angled black and scarlet tattoos along Okoye's head. He'd removed his rebreather from her and now wore it.

He gave K’uk’ulkan a deep nod of respect. "My great Feathered Serpent God, King of all the oceans that stretch across the lands," Attuma praised. "Despite being of the surface dwellers, le nojoch ko'olelo' le tijil u ka'anal [this great woman of the dry above]? She has bested me in combat, my lord," he sighed.

It was not a noise of shame or anger. Rather, something softer.

K’uk’ulkan had never witnessed such from one of his greatest combatants when it came to battle.He swept to his feet and approached Attuma. Looking down to see Okoye still asleep, he furrowed his brows. Then again, his centuries of experience reinforced that looks could be greatly deceiving.

He recalled how the older Queen mother confidently brandished her spear at him during their meeting on the river shore of Wakanda. All despite being in mourning per the conversation he listened in on as soon as she and the princess arrived. The Queen's threats may have been paltry to his kind, their strength and numbers far outpacing any above the waves. Yet she burned with a resolve that spoke of uninhibited violence undertaken with no hesitation.

She must have been magnificent at the apex of her youth. Her daughter in the Princess certainly showed signs of it on her own as well.

Clearly, these people valued prowess in battle. The more he learned of the Wakandans, the more confident he grew in choosing them as allies. So long as they fully comprehended he bore no regrets bringing them to heel via war. Though perhaps there could be other means to bring them in alignment now that their princess volunteered to hear him out. This warrior Attuma appeared taken with could prove valuable as well.

"It was a fair fight?" K’uk’ulkan questioned. Attuma silently nodded in agreement.

Namor's eyes drifted to the scar across Attuma's cheek. Which meant that the warrior woman kept him out of the water long enough for it to immediately not heal. As well as that she used a vibranium weapon. Not to mention, she'd struck him hard enough to cause the wound in the first place.

Truly impressive.

"What we do not kill, we keep," Attuma murmured, obsidian eyes burning.

K’uk’ulkan chuckled at the Talokanil proverb as he dropped a comforting hand to Attuma's upper arm. "Yet you know they cannot survive our depths. Their bodies are not infused with the herb of our ancestors and it is law that we do not share our secrets with them in that regard."

Attuma's face dropped with disappointment. "Forgive me for being presumptuous," he bowed his head.

"You misunderstand me," K’uk’ulkan assured him. "I cannot reveal my plans quite yet. But we may soon all find ourselves in a dawning of a new age for Talokan via Wakanda." Nodding at Okoye, he hummed, "Nothing remains in stone forever."

Attuma's heart began thudding against his chest. Even as he schooled his expression to indifference for fear to hope for such miracles.

"Tend to her, Attuma," K’uk’ulkan waved in dismissal as he moved to sit back at his desk. "Ensure she is treated as a respected guest, fed and kept healthy. Yet keep a close guard on her; while she may attend to her princess during the day, at night, she will be housed in one of the adjoining caves. You will guard her then.”

Since this woman was as fierce as one of his best, K’uk’ulkan had to ensure she would not be allowed to plot an escape. No one would leave his realm until he granted permission. Assuming he did not have to kill her alongside the scientist, of course.

Attuma bowed before spinning on his heel and leaving Namor's home. He called over one of the handmaidens lingering outside of the hut. The woman, Cualli, followed him into another adjoining cave to assist in settling in the surface warrior.

Cualli’s deep russet colored hair was bound up in a tall topknot wound with a string of jade and gold beads. The rest of it flowed down her shoulders in curling waves interspersed with small braids beaded in gold. Gold arm cuffs and bone bracers inlaid with mosaics of jade and pink pearl along her wrists decorated her blue skin. The pale yellow, strapless gown she wore flowed to the ground in rows of braided fabric. The band holding it up around her bosom was heavily embroidered with glittering, white pearlescent fish scales.

Her broad nose held an intricately carved, rectangular, pale blue bone nose plug. Round face and dimpled cheeks granted her a sweet disposition. Due to her appearance, people often initially underestimated her steely resolve. It made her one of K’uk’ulkan's most trusted servants.

“How do you fare, Cualli?” Attuma blithely asked the young woman.

Her bright smile was obscured behind her rebreather as she quickly gave Attuma the usual Talokanil salute. However, her eyes widened at him carrying Okoye.

“Is that…is that another surface dweller?!” she cried in surprise as she rushed over. She instinctively reached out to touch Okoye’s limp arm at her side to feel for a pulse before frowning and jumping back. “General…what…how?!”

Attuma fondly grinned at the handmaiden as she whirled on him. “It is a long tale. Nevertheless, I need your assistance in settling her in. We will need the closest of the grottoes prepared. She is a special guest, same as the Princess."

Cualli shook her head in disbelief and firmly crossed her arms. “Only if you tell me what is going on.” They both knew she wasn’t going to leave him to his own devices, as she’d prepare the room since it was an order from K’uk’ulkan. Leaning in, she rocked to her tiptoes to mutter, “Three surface dwellers are here! What, in the name of Chaac and all he commands, is going on in Talokan?” she waved to Okoye.

Clearing his throat and wandering behind Cualli as she beckoned him to follow, Attuma began the story of how he’d met his equal.

The first thing Okoye noticed as she sluggishly stirred awake was the smell of salty wet. Next was the sound of slow, constant dripping. Along with the feel of damp, cold humidity.

Her eyes fluttering open, she strained to get her limbs to move. They refused. Her thoughts swiftly screamed to angry terror of the idea that she could be paralyzed. Yet that didn’t make sense considering the chill surrounding her. Paralysis equaled absolutely no feeling. At least that’s what she tried to recall from her school lessons and listening to Shuri happily babble in her lab.

“The Princess!” she slurred out.

Whatever she slept on haphazardly swayed back and forth under her as she struggled to finally sit up. Getting her bearings allowed her to take in how wherever she was being kept proved strangely dim. She didn’t recall hitting her head, so she doubted she had a concussion impairing her sight. Rapidly blinking, her eyes finally adjusted to the peculiar cerulean light that seemed to glow all around her.

It turned out she’d slept on some sort of hammock. Tossed over her was a thickly woven, pale colored, somewhat scratchy blanket. Edged in squarish, multicolored patterns of red and auburn, the tassels lining its top and bottom were threaded with raw, round, white and black pearls.

By Bast, where are you Shuri?!

She winced as she leaned on her hand of her injured arm. That bhentse emfene[baboon c*nt] hammerhead man had whipped her into the handle of his scythe and dislocated her shoulder. Then he had the nerve to try to kill her with her own weapon. She couldn’t translate what he said before he attempted it, but she had no doubt it proved insulting per his tone.

Looking over at her injury, her eyes widened at how her shoulder was wrapped in some sort of sweetly salty, light green colored cloth. It was done under the strap of her bodysuit. Which meant someone had to unclip it from its magnetic vibranium clasp along her back and touch her directly to get it wrapped so tightly around her.

Where in the ever-living f*ck was the princess?!

Okoye hated how the swaying hammock made her nauseous as she managed to finally get her feet to hit the floor. Her bare feet. On a cold floor that felt like grainy stone. Someone had stolen her shoes too?!

However, she wasn’t tied up or cuffed. The windowless room was empty, save the hammock and a small desk with a low, backless chair in the corner of what looked to be a stacked stone wall. The blue glow appeared to come from a clear sphere on the corner of the desk. The circular sculpture sat on a hollowed out, wooden square stand. It appeared filled with water and bioluminescent glow worms?

The entranceway lay just to the left of it. Rather than a door, it bore a brightly colored blanket or curtain separating it from whatever lay outside. All of the walls appeared to be constructed of some sort of hard, taupe colored stucco. They were cool to the touch as well.

Looking up caused her to let out a strangled noise of surprise. The roof appeared to be thatched with some sort of thick blades of fibrous materials. More clear globes filled with floating glow worms hung from its ceiling.

She instinctively reached for her collapsible spear clipped to her side. It was gone, though she expected that if her jailers were halfway intelligent. She still had her kimoyo beads though. Stumbling to her feet, Okoye quickly wrapped herself in the blanket to protect against the cold.

She needed to find Shuri first.

Clearly, she was imprisoned. Yet there appeared to be no one around. Nonetheless, having no shoes limited her movement. At the same time, if they wanted her dead, why bother to attend to her shoulder? Or provide her with such a large room and blanket? She didn’t have food or water though.

She whispered into her beads for Shuri’s location only for GRIOT to relay it had limited capabilities due to being offline. That confirmed they were outside the range of Wakanda’s satellites. She could only assume that the shark man and fish woman who leapt onto that bridge in Boston from the backs of whales, f*cking WHALES, were from the ocean.

Wrapping the blanket tighter around her, Okoye ignored the growl of her stomach and throbbing in her shoulder as she silently rushed towards the entranceway. Peeking her head around the curtain granted a view of another empty room. She ducked into it and swiftly spun on her heel to take it in. No furniture here either, save those light sources strung from the ceiling.

Hearing footsteps making long strides in her direction from her left, she dashed back to the room that contained the hammock. Laying back down on it on her side had her facing the door. Yanking the blanket over her head, she feigned sleep. She still peeked out from a slit in between the blanket’s edges. Slowing her breathing, she braced herself for an impending attack.

It was the huge, azure colored shark man who entered the room. He wore the same bizarre hammerhead shark headdress. It was accompanied by his shark bone collar embedded with the animal’s teeth and horseshoe crab pauldrons. Though this time, he bore no weapons. She couldn’t deny she was impressed at how he made virtually no noise as he approached the hammock despite his hefty size.

Reaching out a hand, he was about to touch her injured arm. But he suddenly drew back, looking over his shoulder at something.

She was about to snatch him by the hand and bend his fingers backwards to break them until another person approached her next to him. It was a significantly shorter woman who had the same cerulean colored skin as he did while wearing a similarly odd face mask. However, she didn’t appear to be a soldier of any kind. Not judging by her pale yellow, braided gown. She held a bright green square tray in her hand.

Okoye couldn’t tell what sat on it. That didn’t stop its scent from pulling at her nose in warm waves. It appeared to be food of some sort.

She couldn’t understand what either of them murmured back and forth in their language. Not risking turning on GRIOT’s translation via her beads in order to not alert them to being awake, whatever it was, it sounded strangely playful.

The shark man’s rumbled tones were met by the woman’s higher pitched ones. She then laughed before bowing. He did so to her as well. So low that the woman easily reached up to clasp her hands to his upper neck. She quickly pressed her forehead to his before leaving him alone with Okoye.

The shark man placed the tray on the desk in the corner before dragging the chair from under it. Loudly setting it down a few feet from the hammock, he sat to face her and crossed his arms. Grunting something out, he waited.

Okoye finally shoved the blanket back from herself with blazing eyes to rapidly sit up. She couldn’t quite tell if he repeated the same thing again. Pressing her kimoyo beads for a translation, she caught the end of his words.

“…fool no one, warrior. I knew you were awake,” GRIOT translated.

Since the shark man wore his mask, Okoye could barely make out his expression. Nonetheless, his dark eyes appeared humored. That only pissed her off even more as she swung her legs over the edge of the hammock. It sat too high for her to plant her feet on the ground. Then again, that may have been for the best since her shoes were still nowhere to be found.

“Where are the Princess and the scientist?” she commanded, “They fall under my protection as general of my homeland. I demand to know their status.”

The shark man shook his head in disagreement. “They are of no concern to you-”

“You do not tell me of my concerns!” Okoye growled.

Her hands flattening against her thighs, she prepared herself to spring from the hammock and fight her way out. Putting him down permanently would prove a challenge but nothing would get in her way this time. Perhaps she could bash his brains out across the floor using his own f*cking headdress. The bones running along the back of it looked sharp enough to stab him through the heart. Or slice open his throat. She knew he was capable of bleeding.

The shark man narrowed his eyes at her for a moment before he lumbered to his feet. Grabbing the tray from the table, he returned and silently offered it to her.

Okoye hated how her stomach rumbled at the smell of whatever was in the glazed, red clay bowl. It suddenly occurred to her that she had no clue how long she’d been asleep, nor what time it was. She wasn’t feeling lightheaded. So she at least wasn’t starving yet.

“Eat,” her beads translated his decisive order.

Crossing her arms, she stared daggers at him. “Not until you tell me where the other two women who were with me on the bridge are.”

He grumbled something out that her translator couldn’t pick up before he tried to place the tray on her lap. “Eat-”

“Where are they?!” she shoved his hand away so hard that she nearly knocked over the tray.

“I will not have you go hungry on my guard,” he shot back, gaze full of warning, “Eat-!”

“No.”

She figured he wouldn’t force feed her to harm her since whoever these people were provided the food in the first place. Why let it go to waste? She also wasn’t in a standard prison. At the same time, she didn’t expect him to drop to his chair and proceed to use the wooden spoon in the bowl to inhale a large bite of whatever was provided. He didn’t seem to struggle for breath as he removed his mask to do so.

His exaggerated noises of appreciation for the food as he took a few more bites made her blood boil. Only for her growling stomach to betray her. Its noise caused him to pause and knowingly tilt his head at her. Expression full of derision, Okoye refused to look away.

The shark man leaned back in his chair for a long moment. “If you eat, warrior, I will tell you where your companions are,” he flatly declared.

That likely means they’re alive, her mind reeled. Her frantic heartbeat began to come down, even as the knot of tension in her stomach remained. Rolling her good shoulder, she tersely nodded. The shark man passed her the tray.

The large bowl appeared to hold a mixture of various beans, corn and slices of a thick green plant within a stew. It was also warm to the touch. Okoye gingerly picked up the spoon and took a small bite. Flavors of dark spice, starchy citrus and some sort of brackish chewiness from the mysteriously grilled vegetable danced across her tongue. Combined with the light gravy it sat in, she’d never tasted anything like it. She proceeded to take a bite of what appeared to be a thick slice of cornbread sitting next to the bowl.

It was delicious. And she hated him for being right about it.

Attuma watched as the warrior devoured the food. How she momentarily closed her eyes and dug in with abandon. It was done with no pretense, all eager appetite. The way her little moans escaped her mouth caused his chest to heave. Just like the fight between them, this surface dweller gave it her all and didn’t seem to care that she had an audience.

She stopped when she was only halfway through her meal. He frowned. She needed to keep up her strength and finish it since she’d been asleep for nearly half a surface day.

Okoye set aside the tray and dropped her hands into her lap. “Now answer my question; where are my charges?”

Attuma was about to insist she finish. He decided against it on account of her murderous gaze boring a hole through him. There was always more than one way to debone a fish.

“They are alive and uninjured-”

“When will I see them?” she snapped.

He paused before deliberately replying, “Soon. After you finish your meal.”

“I am done,” Okoye slid to her feet, “Take me to them now.”

Okoye grit her teeth at how he eyed her, unmoving. Finally he stood. He was pretty much the same damn size as the wholly irksome M’Baku. Except the Jabari never tried to kill her, save with constantly running his mouth. Not the case with this smug shark man.

He lifted his chin as his gaze fell to her shoulder. “The wrap on your arm requires attention.”

She jerked away from him. “I don’t need your help, shark.”

He pointed at her. It wasn’t quite as impudent as how he did so after he kicked her spear back to her. It still didn’t keep it from being f*cking vexing. “Your shoulder-”

“You did enough damage to it,” Okoye hissed, “I will not invite you to do the same again.” Teeth bared, she swore, “Or this time, I will rip out your gills completely and watch you bleed out and asphyxiate on the ground in front of me.”

Attuma slowly grinned. After only one engagement, the warrior already analyzed potential weaknesses and was fully prepared to use them against him. Clearly, not all surface dwellers were as mindless as freshly stung shrimp ready to be consumed by a jellyfish.

“Since you reject my offer of assistance,” he smirked, “Then you will have to finish your food. It has healing properties that will help your shoulder.”

She stared at him in disbelief. It slid to increasing exasperation before she snorted and sat back down on the hammock. How she dug into her food made it seem as though she held a personal grudge against it. At least she ate. That was his chief concern, for he had no wish for K’uk’ulkan to be accused of poor guest rights.

After a few more bites, Okoye grumbled, “Don’t you have other duties to attend to?” She side-eyed where he leaned against the wall in front of her.

“My duty is to guard you,” Attuma shrugged, “Per orders from K’uk’ulkan.”

Okoye arched a brow. “Who?”

“K’uk’ulkan,” he repeated.

“I heard what you said,” Okoye retorted in frustration. Setting aside her tray, she rocked to her feet again. “I am asking who that is?”

“K’uk’ulkan-”

“I swear by Bast, if you repeat yourself one more time, I will break your-!”

“Your princess knows him as Namor,” Attuma smirked.

Okoye cut her eyes at him before scanning along his body to see what would prove the most vulnerable to injury besides his gills. Then again, she couldn't risk Shuri or the college girl scientist’s life on account of her irritation with this oversized blue shark man.

Attuma stepped forward, watching as she remained steadfast. She didn’t back away from him at all, fiery eyes once again locked with his.

“He is our king, our god,” he dipped his head in a low bow. “The great Feathered Serpent, K’uk’ulkan. His auspicious birth from his most sacred and adored mother brought us great fortune that has lasted from the time we were forced from our ancestral lands, the u luumil cutz yetel ceh, by the abominable and diseased Conquistadors.”

He spat on the ground at mention of the Spanish. All while Okoye’s eyes widened.

Conquistadors?

Ancestral lands of turkeys and deer, her translator said?!

She couldn’t process any of it, finally whispering, “Who are you people?”

Attuma’s proud smile significantly softened his face. “We are the Talokanil, warrior. And this,” he waved around the room, “Is our kingdom in which you currently dwell, deep below the oceans of our ancestral home upon what your kind call the Yucatan Peninsula. You, surface dwellers, refer to us as the Maya.”

Attuma watched with concern as Okoye began twitchily pacing the room. It took her a few minutes before she circled back around to sink down into the hammock. Dumbfounded, she suspiciously looked between him and the rest of the room before she mutely opened and closed her mouth a few times.

He decided now would be well enough to inform her of his nation’s origins. So he took a cross-legged seat on the floor in front of the hammock. It afforded him the pleasure of gazing up at her as he relayed the tale of how his people came to be under the seas. That he made sure to reveal nothing outside of what the king relayed to the Princess of the history of Talokan didn’t make his words any less astounding to the rapt ears of the surface warrior.

Okoye was still shocked to silence as she finished her food. She didn’t say a word as Attuma then bid her to follow him to meet with this K’uk’ulkan character of many names.

What had they all gotten themselves into?!

She tried to map out the twists and turns of the tunnel the shark man led her through. Unfortunately, it was impossible despite how the area was lent its glow by the same bioluminescent worms that appeared floating in the circular lanterns within the hut she’d woken up in.

Clever, she thought to herself. This made escape impossible for the time being.

Okoye eventually felt salty air hit her face. They soon spilled out into an extensive cave with impossibly high ceilings. Like the tunnel, this area was covered with glow worms as well. It also proved just as humid. Pools of water surrounded each other at various intervals in the floor. Yet the ground didn’t feel slippery.

Within the center of the cave stood a stone-walled, thatched roof hut with roughly carved, wide stairs leading up to it. The pool directly in front of the structure appeared the darkest in color. Okoye could only assume it led to the ocean outside of wherever they were.

She took note of the wide array of items from what these people called her surface world scattered around the hut. A large, gold gramophone, stacks of books, little sculptures, bits of glassware, a VHS cassette tape, a handful of scattered furniture. Along with other knickknacks that appeared to span the centuries.

How quaint.

Attuma spun around and ordered her to wait at the bottom of the stairs. She wasn’t delayed for long. For he returned a few moments later from the hut and motioned for her to enter. With a bow of his head, he pounded the bottom of his scythe into the ground and stood at attention outside. His stony expression revealed nothing.

Okoye inwardly startled at the sight of a man with his back to her whose skin appeared as human as hers and without the blue coloring. Unlike the area outside, this space lay relatively empty. Save the desk between them.

Cluttered on it were various seashells cut in half and with each chamber filled with paint. Parchment papers lay beneath them. They appeared filled with random, charcoal and pencil sketches of various patterns, hieroglyphs and images in a Mesoamerican artistic style. It made sense with what Attuma told her of these people’s origins.

Okoye willed her face to neutral in front of this stranger. While she immediately registered his pointy ears and the feathered wings on his ankles, nothing surprised her anymore at the moment. Certainly not after the shark man's tales. Nonetheless, this Namor character still could kill her where she stood. That his people worshiped him as a god wasn't in her favor; when one had no equal in society, sociopathic and narcissistic tendencies usually rapidly followed.

She'd been at court in Wakanda long enough to know when political games were afoot. No doubt, that explained why Namor initially ignored her, focusing on his exacting brushstrokes to the mural behind his desk. After some long minutes, he spun around and grinned, as though realizing her presence for the first time. His smile sharp, it shifted his handsome face to significantly more predatory.

Laying down his paints, he sat and gestured for Okoye to do so as well.

"I prefer to stand," she swiftly declared. At his unenthusiastic look, she shrugged. "Forgive me, my lord, but I slept for some time on my journey here. My legs could use the practice of standing again, if you do not mind."

The edges of Namor's lips briefly turned upward. "The Princess failed to mention that her general proved so humorous. How fascinating!"

She couldn't help her relief at word of Shuri. "So she is alive?" she inhaled.

"Whole and healthy," Namor assured.

"And the scientist?"

His expression swung to displeased as he rolled his broad shoulders. "She is as well...Attuma said you bested him in combat?"

So that was the shark man’s name. Okoye let out a huff of irritation. "I fought him to a draw," she retorted.

Namor's gaze swept her in inspection before he leisurely set down his paintbrush. "Oh?" he murmured, "Is that so?"

Okoye allowed herself the barest of smirks. "If I bested him, he wouldn't be alive to tell it."

She didn't expect his laugh. Light and airy, it bounced off the walls, his brilliantly white teeth bared before he contained himself. Leaning back in his chair, he dropped his hands to his desk as he eyed her. "No wonder one of my most talented generals has taken such a liking to you.”

Okoye shrugged, even as her thoughts reeled at the God King's revelation. They nearly killed each other on that bridge. The brute toyed with her like she was some green recruit. Oh, how she wished for her spearpoint to strike him down with no way to get back up, healing factors be damned. "I haven't been privy to such," she distantly answered.

"He hasn't mistreated you, has he?" Namor frowned. "I instructed him that you, like the Princess, are our special guest. You are to be treated accordingly."

So send us all the f*ck back home, you water elf, Okoye's mind sneered. Willing her expression to stoic, she firmly replied, "Does that go for the scientist as well?"

Namor's visage darkened with intensity. "She will die for her invention that has led directly to us. I will have no one endanger my people."

Okoye bristled. "She's a child-"

"By the Princess' account, she is the equivalent of an adult by your surface standards," Namor steepled his fingers in front of himself, "Or do your kind not value that there are consequences for one's actions?"

Okoye's mouth thinned into a tight line. "We also value leaders who arrive at decisions within a framework of the full facts. As well as nuance." Namor arched a brow, Okoye staring him down as she continued, "Especially when it comes to taking a life."

"Do not the needs of the many outweigh the few?"

"Does not the murder of an innocent drench one's hands in blood that may never be washed away?" Okoye shot back.

Namor shrugged. "Blood I am willing to bathe in to ensure these sorts of dire decisions never weigh on my people's shoulders. Or do such burdens fall outside of leadership?"

"The greatest leaders are benevolent-"

"Yes. They are benevolent on behalf of their own citizens rather than outsiders who attempt to destroy their way of life," Namor interrupted. "Would not Wakanda do the same to one in order to maintain peace within its borders for those who matter most?"

"I will not deny the past. Yet we have evolved."

Namor's mouth twitched. "Evolution is in the eyes of the beholder. The accursed conquistadors invading my ancestors' shores centuries ago attempted to genocide us out of existence. They called us backwards in our ways. In need of evolution. It is why their repulsive language is the fourth most spoken on your surface, is it not?"

Okoye couldn't hide her surprised expression at his knowledge of world history. She still surged forward. "You are not the only group this occurred to. Our continent has been ravaged for hundreds of years. By some of the very same destructive colonizers who attacked yours."

"And yet Wakanda avoided it all via isolation and zero tolerance for invaders," Namor magnanimously waved.

Okoye wrinkled her nose in distaste. Circular arguments like this were the very reason she avoided politics, preferring to focus on protecting those on the throne itself. Though she regretted her apolitical stance when that monster Killmonger took the throne. While not technically a usurper since he won it via the usual right of conquest, he nearly shattered her country. All while she stood by and watcheddue to her vows.

It utterly unmoored her. The deepest regret of her life, she wasn't sure she'd fully recovered from it before Thanos arrived to destroy the entire universe.

This bullsh*t conversation was wasting her time. Getting Shuri and Riri out of the hands of this conniving water elf, whose god complex extended as far as his flinty eyes could see within this soggy kingdom, was her priority. Flapping her gums over some f*cking political science thought experiment certainly wasn't on her list of ways to pass the time.

"Where are Shuri and Riri?" she demanded, going into parade rest with her hands clasped behind her.

Namor smirked as he sat up a bit straighter. "They, like you, are under my protection. No harm will come to them. For now.”

"And when the for now runs out?” Okoye's chest rose and fell as she quelled her rising fury, “Will you kill us all at your whim?"

"You are a very direct person, General Okoye," Namor thoughtfully replied.

"I must be to ensure the safety of my Princess and those under her safeguard. Such as the scientist," she flatly said.

Namor narrowed his eyes at her. "An honorable calling, so similar to Attuma's." Okoye's gut twisted at the comparison as Namor continued, "During the day, you may guard the Princess and scientist as you wish. For they will also be under guard by my most trusted warriors. At night, you will be housed in the grotto where you were before and guarded by Attuma. He has been instructed to treat you with respect and the highest of guest rights. But he will not hesitate to kill you should you attempt escape."

Okoye thinly grinned. "I would never leave without Shuri or Riri, who falls under Wakandan jurisdiction."

Namor laughed again. It was just as dismissive as his wave as he called for Attuma to escort her out of his home.

Okoye did not miss how he never answered her question of what would occur when the "now" ran out in regards to Riri's life. It only meant she'd have to plot that much harder to free them all from his drowning grip.

Attuma led Okoye to yet another cavern that glowed eerily blue. As soon as she saw Riri alive and sitting cross-legged on a hammock on the other side of the cave, she shoved past the shark man and rushed to embrace the college student as she jumped to her feet.

“Shuri-?!”

“She got back from talking to fish boy only for him to haul her back again for dinner,” Riri swallowed. “He took her down there before all that,” she frantically waved at another pool of water in a far corner of the cave. “Had her go on some type of tour or something? They got a whole-ass city of people down there. They…they’re Mayan, from back in the day. Drank some sort of vibranium infused herb to…to escape from those colonizer-ass Spanish sh*ts,” she rambled, clearly frightened and overwhelmed.

“I know their whole story,” Okoye deeply sighed. “He told me,” she jerked her head in Attuma’s direction where he stood across the cavern from them at the tunnel entrance. While he casually grasped his scythe and leaned against the wall, she had no doubt he’d unleash it on them if they made any suspicious moves.

Pulling Riri into another hug, Okoye directed her to take a seat on the hammock. The general then dropped onto it to sit flush against her.

Riri sat and looked past her to Attuma. Her eyes went wide and she stiffened.

Considering her small frame and stature, he stood a solid foot taller and easily had well over a hundred pounds on her. His blue skin, headdress and livery combined with his rebreather didn’t make him appear any less menacing. Not especially as he stared her down and began lightly tapping the end of his scythe on the ground in an ominous staccato. The caverns made its noise echo even more.

Tearing her eyes from him, she swallowed and muttered, “Shuri’s good…this Namor is on some straight-up, super villain sh*t tho." Wringing her hands, she clasped them together in her lap.

Okoye couldn’t disagree as Riri gave an incredulous shake of her head.

"He made her wear a dress he clearly didn’t order off Etsy. Plied her with food and his sob story of how he's a mutant. Showed her his paintings in his little Batcave of evil. All to…” she trailed off, gaze darting back to Attuma. He arched a brow at her while continuing to drum his weapon along the cavern floor.

Riri closed her eyes and bit at her lower lip. Leaning in she whispered into Okoye’s ear, “They wanna f*cking kill me! All over a stupid-ass school project that I didn’t even know my bitch-ass prof was gonna sell to the f*cking CIA! How in the hell was I supposed to know it’d even f*ck with these folks when I didn’t know they f*cking existed?!”

Okoye took her hand in hers and gave it a comforting squeeze. “I won’t let them lay a hand on you. I swear it. On Bast, uya kusinda koku, yes? You will survive this,” she translated her Xhosa.

Riri frantically shook her head and wiped at her puffy eyes with the back of her hand. “I…I believe you,” she shakily replied. “Hey,” she quickly added, “At least they gave me these fancy threads,” she popped the collar of the tightly woven tunic she wore. A finely honed patchwork of angular patterns in an array of colors, its split collar and sleeves were embroidered with a sweep of seed pearls. They matched the cuffed pants she wore.

“I mean,” Riri tried to casually shrug, “They wouldn’t make me look insta ready with a wardrobe change if they planned to really merc me, right?!”

Okoye patted her shoulder. “I would think so.” It wasn’t technically a lie. No need to worry the scientist with the fact that she had no idea how these people operated. All she could do for now was observe and bide her time.

Morning dawned chilly in Boston, the sunrise weak and watery through the hazy clouds. The bridge where the Talokanil faced off against the Wakandans swarmed with various law enforcement agencies reviewing the scene.

Everett stopped the driver of his government issued, black SUV and hopped out of its backseat. Sliding on his aviators, he muttered out a curse as he swept the carnage. There were burn marks on the bridge. Large enough to be vehicles, though he could confirm that from the scorched car debris scattered about. Parts of the bridge were cracked deep into the asphalt with strange markings. It was as though some large animal clawed up the street in a frenzy.

“Holy f*ck,” Everett muttered to himself. He took in the local PD, the state troopers and the FBI at the scene. Everyone looked harried and baffled. Even the FBI agents appeared perturbed despite half their faces covered by their usual blackout sunglasses.

Searching the crowd, he landed on a familiar face. She stood by herself next to an American-made, dark colored sedan that was obviously government issued as well.

The woman stood shorter than him. However her dark twists tied into a large topknot added to her height. She wore a dark blue, well-tailored, close-fitting suit, its gold buttons shining in the pale sunlight. The edges of her ruffled black blouse sleeves slightly stuck out from under the suit jacket cuffs. Save her smart watch and small, diamond stud earrings, she wore no jewelry. No high-heels either. Instead, sensible, black leather flats graced her feet.

Everett grinned as he wandered up and tapped her on the shoulder. She nervously swung around to meet him, her wide, full mouth open in a ready apology. Except her expression brightened at the sight of him. Dark amber skin plainly made-up, she granted him a tired grin.

“Everett? Surprised to see you here,” she cradled her tablet under her arm to wave to him. She returned his quick hug with a confused expression. “So this is official CIA business too? My boss demanded…requested me to drive up from her office in D.C. to meet her here.”

“You didn’t take the plane, Angela?” Everett asked in astonishment.

Pulling away from him, she briefly looked at the ground. “Val was already on it and in the air by the time she called me. You, uh, know how it is.”

“Yeah,” he rolled his eyes.

“She’s back over there at the start of the crime scene, if you want to see her?”

Everett quickly nodded in disagreement. “I can spare some time to catch up with you. How’ve you been?”

Angela gave him a tight smile. “Oh, you know, same old thing. Working, trying to make rent and keep up my networking so I can climb that D.C. ladder,” she rocked her arm in front of her in mock enthusiasm.

He leaned in to keep their conversation close. “You know I can find you anyplace else to work in the Beltway with a simple phone call, right?” Everett swore, “All you have to do is ask-”

“Eh, the longer I work with Valentina, the better I can net something at the very top when I eventually move on,” she interrupted.

Everett shot her a doubtful look. “You could,” he slowly said, “Or you could take my offer and fly the coop far sooner. You should have been out of here years ago.”

“I appreciate the offer, Everett,” Val muttered, “But I’m fine.” At his incredulous expression, she reached out and patted his forearm before quickly retreating. “I promise, don’t worry about me. I’m a survivor.”

He let out a deep sigh before reaffirming that she if she needed anything, she knew how to reach him. Eyes quickly sweeping her, he smiled and vaguely waved at Angela’s hair. “They look good,” he cleared his throat.

Frowning, she muttered, “What?”

“Your Senegalese twists,” Ross dropped his hand, “They’re nice. The beads especially.”

She arched a brow as her hand went up to timidly tuck a loose, beaded strand behind her ear from where it’d fallen out of its topknot. “Oh, yeah,” she grinned again. Her head whipping around to look for her boss, she glanced back at him. “Thanks. For noticing, I mean.”

“Sure,” Ross shrugged, “How was your birthday last week? Hope it was a fun one.”

Her beaming smile transformed her usually solemn face, making her cheeks rounder. It also made her briefly appear significantly younger than in her 30s. Especially as she wrinkled her wide nose. “It was great! Appreciate the gift card to Maestro’s Steakhouse.”

The sudden, loud click of heels echoing on the asphalt made her snap her head backwards. Val was in the process of pushing her sunglasses up to her hair and unbuttoning her cashmere blend, dark colored coat as she finished questioning one of the FBI agents. Angela swallowed before she swiftly continued.

“You really didn’t have to spend all that much on the card-”

Everett waved her off. “You work so hard. Don’t ever deny yourself some fun time. It was my treat.”

“Me and two other of my friends thank you,” she nodded. “You always remembered little details like that when you were still married to-”

“Running late again, Angie?” Val smirked as she arrived to stand in front of her chief of staff.

Swallowing, Angela replied, “I drove up from D.C. as soon as I got off the phone with you. Got on the road around 2am this morning.”

Val clucked her tongue in disappointment. “Yet I arrived here first.”

“I uh, don’t have access to a private jet?” Angela meekly shrugged. Her fingers began nervously tapping on the screen of her tablet she held.

“Pity,” Val shrugged. “Remind me to add you to the list of cleared passengers when we get back to the office, Angie,” she dismissively waved as she headed towards where Everett was now crouched and investigating something on the edge of the bridge.

Angela let out a defeated sigh. “I’ve requested that for the last five years since I’ve been working under you,” she muttered.

Val spun on her heel and narrowed her eyes. “Did you have something else to tell me?” she waved her hand around, “About this crime scene where we just carted off five dead cops to the morgue while the sixth one is in a coma over at Mass General and fighting for his life?”

“No…no ma’am,” Angela’s eyes widened as she worried her full lower lip.

“Good,” Val sarcastically grinned, “As I wouldn’t want to accuse you of wasting the rather valuable and precious time I spend protecting your fellow U.S. taxpayers. All so they can continue operating in the ignorant darkness of their basic, sad little lifestyles driven by their Pinterest boards and TikToks.”

Angela nervously shoved her thick, square, black framed glasses up her nose. “Understood, Director.”

"Have you gone over the footage from the drone that was shot down? Or the traffic cam footage in the area?"

Angela nervously swallowed, glancing to Everett. He grimaced before his attention went back to whatever he looked at on the ground. "The thing is, Director-"

"Yeah?" Val crossed her arms.

"There's uh…very limited footage in the general area or on the drone," Angela muttered. "Seems like those peculiar bracelets the Wakandans wear? They constantly send out signals scrambling most surveillance methods. They're like walking disruptors. Makes tracking them extremely difficult. All the Feds seem to have is physical evidence from the scene."

Val let out a ragged sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose as she briefly closed her eyes. "This right here?" she huffed, "Is why we need vibranium tech. Can you imagine what we could accomplish with those sorts of capabilities?"

Angela grinned. "Quite so. Anything else you require of me, Director?"

Val paused, her gaze raking over her chief of staff. Mouth curling with disdain, she tilted her head to the side. “Angie?” she finally sing-songed.

“Yes, Director?”

Waving her hand around in the direction of Angela’s head, she rolled her eyes. “The braids, I can take. Whatever. But those beads? Not exactly what I’d call professional, if you catch my drift.”

Angela froze. With an adamant shake of her head, she stammered, “Totally understand what you’re saying. I’ll take care of it and they’ll be out by work tomorrow-”

“I’d very much prefer you handling it as soon as possible,” Val shooed her away. “Thanks, Angie!” she called out over her shoulder as she headed over to her ex-husband.

Everett swiftly pocketed the kimoyo beads. Letting out a defeated sigh at Val’s tone to her chief of staff, he rushed to his feet and spun to face her. “Val,” he nodded in acknowledgment, “I have to say, I didn’t expect you here. Thought you’d be far too busy to handle a local crime scene.”

“This is a diplomatic incident, considering it involves Wakanda,” she snidely retorted. Giving him a shrewd look, her face suddenly broke out into a grin. “Everett,” she called out. He took note how her growing smile didn’t reach her eyes. It rarely did. “How are you?” she cooed. Taking him in, she hummed, “You look good.”

“Your Peloton you left at the house helps,” he tossed back. Anything to distract her from the evidence he just lifted. The beads seem to burn in his pocket.

“Well, whatever it is,” Val squeezed his shoulder, “Keep it up.”

Everett shrugged. “Yeah, sure…what the hell happened here?” he waved around the bridge.

Val gave him an annoyed look. “Your Wakandan friends are what happened.”

“They’re not my friends,” he frowned.

“Whatever you say,” Val winked. With that, she explained how they were still piecing together what occurred last night, though there wasn’t much to go on due to lack of footage. Everett’s thoughts began to whirl with plans to contact Okoye as soon as he was clear of the scene.

Something about this situation stunk to high heaven. And he was going to get to the bottom of it. It was the least he could do for his old friends who saved his life only a few years ago.

Chapter 3

Chapter Text

Shuri finally returned to Riri and Okoye a couple of hours later. Thankfully, another handmaid bought the other two women food. Okoye hoped such diligence meant they weren’t all going to be killed soon. Though if it came to that, she’d take as many of these people to their ancestors as she could.

The three women whispered among themselves under the watchful eye of three other Talokanil warriors guarding the entrances to the closest tunnels, for Attuma had at some point slipped away. However, he reappeared after another hour or so to guide Okoye back to the hut she woke up in. While she once again retreated to her hammock, he parked himself outside of her room. Not that she expected any less of the irritating shark man.

She eventually fell into an uneasy sleep.

She was awoken hours later by a soft chime of bells at what she could only assume was the next morning. The time of day was impossible to tell with no sun or any other method of time keeping since she’d been down here.

This time, the handmaid called Cualli appeared, the same one from yesterday who woke her up. She appeared pleasant enough as she presented Okoye with a tray of food. Attuma stood lurking behind her at the doorway of the room, at attention and holding his scythe.

Breakfast consisted of some sort of grilled shrimp wrapped in corn tortillas with a drizzling of mole. With it, a mixture of various leaves of brown and blue seaweed and other vegetables she didn’t recognize. A mound of seared squash sat within their center. It was dusted with flaky, dried, chili peppers. There was also a large clay jug of fresh water.

Okoye may have been imprisoned but she could freely admit the food was second to none. A small relief.

When she finished eating, Cualli reappeared and handed her a change of clothes.

They were similar to Riri’s. A multicolored, long-sleeved tunic of muted colors embroidered in a wash of pearlescent fish scales. Extremely precise beading of small, black pearls around the cuffs of the tunic and pants weighed them down. She was glad Shuri explained to her that rejecting the clothes would be seen as rude due to the Talokanil rules of guest rights. For they also had a long, proud tradition of weaving work.

Cualli explained that Okoye could bathe in the pool behind the hut.

"What of the shark man…Attuma?" Okoye corrected herself as she narrowed her eyes, "Where will he be during that?"

She didn't expect Cualli's peal of laughter echoing from behind her rebreather. At Okoye's jaundiced look, she wiped at her eyes.

"Forgive me, surface dweller," the handmaid quickly bowed her head. "I mean no insult, I implore you. It is…shark man?! Did you…I hope you do not call our great general that directly?!"

Okoye crossed her arms. "I have and do."

"I would say we occasionally think it, though only when he's in a mood, which is rare. We just do not say it aloud…wait?" Cualli paused, finally realizing Okoye's response. "You call him such? Within hearing distance?!" she pressed a flabbergasted hand to her azure chest.

Okoye slowly blinked. "Why would I not?" At Cualli's wide eyes, she muttered, "It is descriptive."

"He allows that of you?!" Cualli gasped.

"He has not demanded I stop."

Cualli looked Okoye up and down in astonishment. She remained silent for a long while before she slowly grinned. "I see, surface dweller. Hmm."

Okoye frowned as the handmaid assured that Attuma was honorable and would remain at the front of the hut while she bathed. She offered her assistance in the meantime, which Okoye waved off.

With that, Cualli passed her a washing cloth, soap with a spicy floral scent and a small vial of oil for her skin. Along with the thick, wide cloth of deep yellow the handmaid explained could be used as a towel. She also relayed that she'd change the wrap to Okoye's injured shoulder when she finished her bath.

Cualli led her outside to the pool. With a bow and the Talokan salute, she disappeared back inside the hut. Checking to see there were no windows facing outwards, Okoye quickly stripped and sunk down into the pool. The water proved surprisingly temperate. The soap soothed her as she washed. She hated how she wished she could linger but didn’t want the shark man to see her in such a compromised position.

She utterly refused to trust him.

Hauling herself out of the pool, she dried off and rubbed the oil into her skin before dressing. She decided not to put too much thought on how the clothes fit her nearly perfectly.Wandering back into the hut found Cualli waiting in the hammock room. The handmaid's touch was gentle and precise as she swapped out her shoulder wrap for a fresh one.

With that, she led Okoye back to the front room before bidding her goodbye. Though not without leaning over and conspiratorially murmuring, "General shark man will be guarding you. I will assist in preparing you for sleep upon your return."

Okoye could swear the handmaid winked at her before she left.

The Wakandan general ignored how Attuma's eyes slowly swept over her before he gestured for her to follow him. This time, he led her back to Namor’s hut. Except the water elf was nowhere to be found. Instead, she was greeted with relief by Shuri and Riri.

Attuma withdrew to outside, though Okoye had no doubt he didn’t wander far. The three Talokanil warriors from yesterday also lingered in the cave and at the tunnel entrances. Okoye was darkly proud that they were all viewed as such a threat.

“I see they got you in some of them super villain clothes too, sis,” Riri sarcastically announced as she moved out of Okoye’s hug and took her in. “Nice!” she smirked. “Give us a twirl, girl!” she spun her finger around in encouragement.

Okoye snorted and lightly smacked the younger woman on the shoulder. Nevertheless, she was inwardly relieved to see the young scientist in a better mood. Not that she blamed her for her earlier anxiety. This was all still a supremely f*cked up situation they couldn’t determine they’d survive yet.

Shuri steadily explained how she’d been taken to see the underwater sun within the Talokanil’s satsun the water elf built for his people. It required improvement. She and Riri planned to spend their day creating a solution.

“Or he’ll kill us all?” Okoye cynically questioned as she crossed her arms.

Shuri grimaced and shook her head. “I don’t think he will-”

“No disrespect, Princess. But your life ain’t hanging in the balance,” Riri shuddered.

Shuri dropped a comforting hand to Riri’s side. “I swear on my own life that I’m not leaving you behind. No one will be left behind," she looked to Okoye.

Okoye glanced down at the scattering of parchments on Namor’s desk. She recognized what appeared to be architectural drawings of a massive sphere that she could only assume was their sun. Despite not being digitally modeled as they would be in Shuri’s lab, the sketches were precise. With various notes also in Shuri's hand alongside a writing style she didn’t recognize. Riri’s likely.

Considering she had nothing else to do, she asked Shuri if she could assist. The Princess’ smile lit up the room and she passed the general a stack of blank parchment and some sort of thin, feathered writing implements that appeared to draw like a blend of charcoal and a pencil. She was to take notes as Shuri and Riri brainstormed.

Okoye found she didn’t mind taking dictation despite that she didn’t understand most of the terms that came out of the two geniuses’ mouths. At least the time quickly passed. Before she knew it, two handmaids wearing their usual rebreathers appeared to serve them all lunch.

The three women would take breaks, wandering around outside the hut to stretch their legs or dangle their feet in one of the pools. Though they avoided the one in the center that led out to the ocean. All due to Riri pointing out they could be dragged down and drowned by an unseen Talokanil. Overall, it seemed better to stick to the pools that contained a clear bottom and that were closed off.

At the end of the day, one of the handmaids led Shuri away for yet another dinner with Namor elsewhere. Okoye grit her teeth at his little game of trying to convince her of an alliance. But she could do nothing without risking potential putative measures. After all, they were dressed, fed and not chained up. Instead, she made a show of hugging Shuri good night before allowing her to be led away.

Attuma led both the general and Riri back to the cave where Riri was kept. He then began to order Okoye to follow him to her hut. She refused to budge, insisting on eating dinner with Riri. Her own experience knew that splitting up prisoners proved a method to keep them off kilter and in a state of constant apprehension. Absence from each other allowed more potential manipulation. Riri was a civilian, still a teenager and Okoye made a vow to keep her as protected as possible. At least Riri let her know that Shuri was allowed to stay with her last night in the same cave.

Attuma silently regarded her as she stood planted in front of where Riri sat shrinking from him on her hammock. Okoye had the distinct impression he sized her up, judging from his tightening grip on his scythe before he wordlessly turned and disappeared down one of the tunnels. He soon returned with her tray of food. Riri already had her own, brought to her by another handmaid.

They ate, making sure to keep the conversation about the day’s work. Roughly an hour later, Attuma came to fetch Okoye and lead her back to her hut. Cualli awaited them with another change of clothes for her to sleep in. Along with a small snack sort of meal and more fresh water for the night.

If not for the threat of death constantly hanging over them all, Okoye would appreciate being tended to in such a way.

Two more days passed in the same fashion.

Oddly on the third night of being in Talokan, Attuma didn’t stand guard outside Okoye’s room. This time as she sank into her hammock, he dropped to take a seat on the floor near the table in the far corner of her quarters. Rather than looming and standing guard outside the doorway, he’d placed himself closer to her and in her room. While his scythe was propped on the wall behind him and as far away from her as possible, it wasn’t in hand like the previous nights. It all meant he clearly didn’t see her as a threat. Which she could use to her advantage.

Flicking out a large cloth of some sort he pulled from the strapped satchel he wore, it covered his large lap. Okoye sat up to see him threading a bone needle with brightly colored thread and…starting to embroider the cloth?

“What are you doing?” she asked, forcing her voice to sound interested. Putting him at ease could result in letting his guard down and making an escape less daunting.

Attuma looked over at her for a bit before he deftly lifted up the pale colored cloth for her to see. Embroidered within its center lay a circle of kelp with brightly colored stems surrounding the outline of a satsun. Okoye vaguely recalled seeing them on missions to Mexico in the very region where these people originated. Remembering Shuri explaining how one lay in the center of Talokan where their artificial sun rose and set, it made sense.

She had no idea how the shark man managed to see his detailed work in such dim lighting from the spherical, bioluminescent lamps hanging from the thatched roof above.

“You embroider?” she asked with genuine surprise.

Attuma nodded. “Warriors are expected to contain many talents besides the slaying of our enemies. Namora’s hand with a chisel creates some of our nation’s most stunning glyphs for recorded documents of great import. She also proves an excellent weaver.”

It was similar in Wakanda. People were expected to be well rounded. She personally enjoyed gardening and picked up languages quickly, especially the obscure and older dialects of the various tribes. Before her mother passed away, she always said her daughter could’ve owned a restaurant or a famous food stall in the Great Marketplace of the Golden City considering her excellent cooking if she hadn't become a Dora Milaje. Her sisters in the Dora all held special talents outside of battle as well.

"What is it for?" she nodded at his work.

It was hard to tell if he smiled due to his rebreather. However, his brows softened. "A new satchel for my sister. Her younglings ripped her old one apart, the little menaces." It was said with surprisingly light affection as he went back to rapidly stitching.

Okoye startled at the revelation. But of course he would have a family. These blue people existed outside of their current threat to her and the others. As much as she wouldn't hesitate to kill them to ensure her own group’s safety, that didn't preclude them from having other, normal pursuits.

"I'm sure they will like it," she said, laying back down on her hammock and tugging the blanket over herself.

Attuma shrugged. "I am not as skilled at this as my father is," he mused. "I must practice more. The increasing incursions into our kingdom have taken time away from all of this," he sighed. Biting off the edge of the thread, he began with a new color of stitching.

Okoye filed away that tidbit of information on alleged incursions for later. Sure, he could be lying. Or not.

She settled into the hammock and attempted to fall asleep. But as was the case previous nights, she struggled.

“You should sleep for once, warrior,” Attuma called out after roughly an hour of her feigning it. He didn’t bother looking up from his work. “Pretending to do so does you no good,” he sniffed.

Okoye let out a derisive noise. More on account that she’d been caught. “How do you know when I’m not asleep?” she huffed.

“Your breathing is not the same as when you fall into real sleep in your exhaustion. When you’re awake, your heart rate is elevated, as is standard of your kind.” Okoye froze at his easy response. “I may hear both,” he continued.

Apparently, these people contained heightened senses too. It tracked, considering their bodies evolved to the pressures of the deep sea. That still didn't make his revelation any less uneasy.

“Well, it’s rather difficult to sleep in an unfamiliar environment,” she scoffed.

Attuma looked up, eyes velvety black in the low light. “Why did you not say so?”

“I doubt you care,” she nearly hissed as she shifted backwards and closer to the edge of the hammock. Closing her eyes, she didn't wait for his response.

Attuma looked at her for a long moment before he went back to his embroidery.

Without warning, the air was fill with a low, melodic hum. It seemed to pull at her with strangely comforting fingers, wrapping around her being like the soft touches of a familiar embrace. Her body immediately began to relax. Even as her mind fought it and her eyes struggled to stay open.

It took what felt an age for her to form words as she realized it was Attuma's tune that echoed around her. His notes soon switched from low to slightly higher but just as hypnotically soothing. No matter how she couldn't tell how much time passed as his music shifted yet again to nearly lull her to sleep.

"What…what are you singing?" her tongue struggled to form the words as a bizarre warmth settled over her. "How…how are you doing this? Affecting me?" she insisted.

Attuma murmured, "How does my song render you?"

"Calmer than I've felt since I've been down here," she slurred out.

She immediately snapped her mouth shut, lips pressed into a firm line of regret and with no idea of what compelled her to reveal such to her enemy. For as soon as his song stopped, her emotions shifted back to her usual unease.

Attuma eyed her before going back to his embroidery. "We have songs of various melodies that hold influence in power. They serve numerous purposes to compel others to do and feel a multitude of things."

Her mind spun with the implications. She'd heard tales from other cultures of sea creatures who held the same abilities. Often it proved a curse or enchantment to those they sung to. Her own pantheon of deities contained legends of water spirits who could prove mischievous to murderous. The fact that these people of the deep made it a reality caused her stomach to churn.

"You must have an extraordinarily strong will, warrior," Attuma declared. He sounded almost proud. "Most would be firmly at slumber and within the land of dreams by now."

Siren, she angrily mused to herself, They call them siren songs.

"Do not do that again," she furiously ordered. She hoped her voice didn't sound as shaky as it did in her ears.

Attuma furrowed his brows. "You need your sleep to remain strong-?"

"I can find it on my own. Do not compel me," she snapped.

"Your sleep has been erratic since you arrived," his voice dropped, "You deserve a nightly rest of peace."

Okoye utterly refused to entertain that he came from any place of concern as she grit out, "That is none of your business. Keep your songs to yourself. I won't repeat that."

His deep sigh sounded disappointed.

She didn't care. Why in the f*ck should she care?! He was her jailer and she, his prisoner. She should be plotting how to eliminate him in order to secure Shuri and Riri's lives to get them all out of this accursed place.

Rolling over to face the wall, she pulled the blanket all the way over her head. "I need nothing from you, shark man," she tossed out.

She held her breath, waiting for his reply. He remained silent.

It took what seemed like hours for her to finally fall asleep. She despised how she missed his song and how it'd nearly pulled her down into the blessed depths.

She couldn't wait to escape.

They barely acknowledged each other on the fourth day. At the same time, by the end of it, her shoulder was completely healed and without a twinge of pain. It was as though the shark man’s retaliatory strike against her into the staff of his weapon never physically happened.

Day five dawned with Okoye once again being awoken by Cualli. "Poc chuc!” the handmaid cheerily announced breakfast.

“Poc chuc,” Attuma repeated behind her. He wasn’t necessarily jovial but he seemed unperturbed as Cualli passed Okoye the serving tray where she sat up on her hammock. There was no translation per GRIOT, Okoye asking for clarification.

"He may explain," Cualli chirped. She shot Attuma a knowing look, which he returned with wide eyes as she saluted him and loudly announced she'd return for Okoye's bath. Attuma grumbled for a bit. It only caused the handmaid to blithely giggle before she disappeared out the doorway.

Okoye took it all in with vague interest before asking what it was again.

“Poc chuc?” he repeated, “To toast on hot embers,” he translated. “It is a grouper fish.” Okoye nodded and leaned over to fully take in its delectable aroma. Meanwhile, Attuma dropped to sit cross-legged on the floor next to the table in the room.

The Wakandan general was swiftly realizing the big blue man preferred to take his seat around her in such a way. It should have been unnerving. Especially after their last, tense conversation. She refused to dwell on why she found it increasingly normal. It reminded her of how her own countrymen engaged with each other, close and informal.

Attuma watched as she took a bite and closed her eyes to take it in. Gazing at her throat bobbing as she let out a moan of pleasure, he swiftly went back to polishing the staff of his scythe.

“How do you have such a variety of food?” Okoye asked aloud as she appreciated the poc chuc.

Pleasantly salty and acidic, she recalled having it before on the surface while accompanying T’Challa on a mission in southeastern Mexico. The dish was traditionally made with pork. Considering where they were, she wasn’t surprised fish was used in place of a land animal. This version proved far superior as well.

“Yesterday, it was tikin xic," she wondered aloud, "The food is different every day.”

Attuma arched a brow as his fingers ran along the staff of his weapon where it lay sideways in his lap. “We are an advanced civilization-”

“I meant no insult,” Okoye asserted. “Genuinely curious. This is delicious,” she nodded down at the food before taking another large bite. On a separate clay plate was a salad of avocado, juicy mango, dried sea kelp and other various colored sea plants. Drizzled with lime juice and a sprinkling of yellow chili powder added a layer of tartness and smoky spice.

Attuma hesitated before he proudly replied, “We maintain gardens and crops deep in the sea. An adaptation of the seedlings we gathered from our homeland along with learning how to cultivate the plants and farm the animals of the environment. Our diet proves even more varied than our ancestors, most high praises to Bolon Tzʼakab.” At her perplexed expression, he glanced upwards. “The god of the harvest,” he clarified.

Okoye nodded, mouth too pleasantly full to reply.

“That you find it to your liking is…agreeable,” he measuredly said. She didn’t notice him still contemplating her as she finished. “I could show-”

Cualli sailed into the room with a greeting and giddily asked how Okoye liked her meal. The Wakanda general gave her compliments before the handmaid shooed Attuma out of the room so she could prepare Okoye for the morning.

Attuma rushed to his feet and ducked out to the front of the hut. Perhaps he would speak to K'uk'ulkan of showing the warrior more of his home. After all, the Princess and Little Scientist saw some parts of it. Why not the warrior as well? It wasn’t as though any of them were going anywhere soon.

That night, Attuma began beading along his embroidery project. Okoye once again inquired on his progress. It wasn’t as though she had anything better to do as she lay wrapped up in the hammock.

“They are pearls?” Okoye asked after he held it up for her to see.

“Of course, what else would they be?” he tilted his head in question.

Okoye’s surprise was obvious. “Those are a fortune.”

She didn’t expect his quiet chuckle as he rolled his shoulders. “They are in abundance for our people. As common as any coin on the surface.”

She nodded as it dawned on her. “It makes sense.”

After some time, Attuma abruptly vowed, “I will leave some for you to take tomorrow morning, warrior.”

“You don’t-”

“It is considered rude to reject a gift freely given,” he hummed. “Your princess speaks of a potential alliance with K'uk'ulkan. Is not the exchange of gifts standard in diplomacy?”

Despite Okoye being privy to that information due to her talks with Shuri, she still felt an uncomfortable pit forming in her stomach. At the same time, she couldn’t deny he was right concerning Shuri’s negotiations with the water elf. This was precisely why she preferred staying the f*ck out of the minefield of politics.

“I’m no diplomat,” Okoye countered.

“You are the same as me, a general,” Attuma retorted. “Your Princess calls you by that title. She does not strike me as one to deceive. Generals engage in diplomacy by right of their high station within this realm.”

Okoye’s weary sigh echoed in the room. “Those are not our methods back home.”

She couldn’t see Attuma smirking behind his rebreather. “You are in Talokan, warrior. For us, gifts show the highest regard. It illustrates a desire to share one’s blessed abundance and give thanks to the gods for their favor. General to general, there is no greater esteem.”

Attuma took her silence for agreement rather than attempting to maneuver her way out of his stubborn persistence. “It shall be on the table for you by the time you wake,” he insisted.

“I…thank you,” she quietly replied.

She slept relatively well that night.

A black woven pouch edged in dark green and white geometric patterns sat on the desk in the corner when Okoye awoke the next morning. Just as the shark man promised.

Okoye didn’t open it until Cualli left her alone to dress. She let out a curse of astonishment at its heavy weight as she picked it up. Pulling open its drawstring revealed a few dozen, raw shaped pearls of black and light gold. They were magnificent, their sheen even and lush despite the dim light. Worth insanely more than she ever anticipated.

“How do you find them?” Attuma suddenly rumbled behind her.

She spun around to find him standing at the entrance of her room, arms crossed and in his full armor of vibranium infused shark bones and horseshoe crabs. The hammerhead headdress was in place as well.

Okoye cleared her throat, not expecting his open look of expectation. “They are far grander than I assumed.”

He scoffed. “I would not grant you anything less than the best.”

“Despite me being a surface dweller?” She had no idea why she joked.

“In spite of it,” he amusingly corrected. “I am unaware of what colors you find most pleasing, forgive me.”

He is serious?! she reeled. She had the equivalent of a enormous harvest of pearls the jewelers back home could only dream of and the shark man’s thoughts were concerned with her taste in colors?

She worried her lower lip with her teeth before she slowly replied, “There is nothing to forgive. These are...extraordinary.”

“Then I am pleased that you are pleased, warrior,” Attuma vowed with a low bow of his head, his eyes never leaving hers.

Okoye tried ignoring the rising warmth dancing on her skin at his response as she turned away from him. Tying the pouch to the belt of her clothes, its weight against her hip was unmistakable. Meanwhile, he left as Cualli returned to finish up her morning routine. The handmaid then leaving with her usual salute when finished, Okoye frowned as Attuma stiffly marched in. He appeared perturbed, the Wakandan general snapping to her guard.

“Arrangements will be made for your return to the surface,” he abruptly proclaimed.

Did he look…despondent?

Why did she even give a f*ck?! She’d been down here for nearly a week. Constantly on edge, out of her element and expecting Shuri, the scientist or her own murder at any given moment. She was glad to return home.

She drew herself to her full height to stand at parade rest. “What of the princess and the scientist?” she demanded.

The shark man’s eyes raked over her despite his face remaining impassive. Okoye bristled. However, he didn’t move from his position across the room. “They are unharmed and will be returning as well,” he muttered.

What did Shuri give that infernal water elf?! Okoye’s mind furiously calculated.

This Namor didn’t seem the type to simply let them all live out of the kindness of his arrogant little heart. He was the ruler of an entire hidden nation flush with vibranium. His people referred to him as a god. He wanted to murder a woman barely full grown. Something of impressive and potentially terrifying value had to be exchanged to let them all leave unharned.

Shuri proved a brilliant mind in science and technology. Arguably, one of the most genius on the planet. Yet she’d never been a fixture at Wakanda’s court or during tribal council meetings. She had neither the patience nor desire to sit in on their bickering. While extensively educated in lessons of the court and her country’s history, it’d always held little interest. Nothing could replace the excitement and freedom of her lab. It was why Ramonda became regent during T’Challa’s illness and then queen upon his passing despite Shuri being of age.

How could she face off against a 500 year-old despotic ruler of a centuries-old kingdom? How could any mortal navigate that sort of treacherous path? Wasn’t he afraid they’d reveal all he’d built down here?

Okoye was well aware of Wakanda’s history. Before technology could keep them so well hidden, her nation had no mercy for outsiders who stumbled into their territory. They were dealt with swiftly and more often than not, with death. For no one individual was worth putting the entire country at risk.

This right here? A f*cking trap.

"When will we be going home?" she demanded.

Attuma fitfully shrugged. "K'uk'ulkan will make the arrangements with your queen today."

"Good," Okoye retorted.

She couldn't wait to escort the Princess home and be rid of this place.

Her hand flew to her hip and detached the pouch of pearls. “I should return this then.”

Attuma sauntered forward, nearly reaching out to close her hand back around it before he stopped short. He stared down at her, dark eyes brimming with something she couldn’t quite place. Suddenly he snatched himself back and huffed, “To take back a gift brings upon us the anger of the gods.”

“Is that so?” Okoye arched a brow.

He adamantly shook his head. “I will suffer a full moon cycle of misfortunes.” Okoye could swear he looked highly pleased with himself over his reply. The damn rebreathers didn’t help in trying to suss out these people’s expressions. “I prefer to avoid such,” he waved in dismissal.

“We certainly wouldn’t want that,” Okoye faintly replied.

“I would hope not,” he lifted his chin at her as she tied the pouch back on.

Attuma's gaze moved from her to stare somewhere just over her shoulder. Gone was his usual unwavering eye contact as he gruffly ordered her to follow him to Namor’s hut where she usually stayed with Riri and Shuri for the day. This time, he didn't leave with a goodbye and promise to retrieve her that evening. It made sense, considering they were apparently about to be released.

Okoye refused to dwell on how she felt acclimated to her interactions with him. Nor how her stomach dropped as he silently spun on his heel and left her with the other two women without a word.

Hearing commotion from inside Namor’s hut where she organized the final notes on Shuri and Riri repairing Talokan’s sun, Okoye sprinted out the doorway while her hand instinctively flew to her collapsed spear. Except it'd been taken from her, by Bast!

Her eyes widened as she was met by the inexplicable appearance of Nakia on the other side of the cave. But the Dora Milaje’s eyes swiveled to where Shuri was being held by one of the Talokanil handmaids. Along with the knife the servant currently pressed to Shuri’s neck.

Okoye’s mind frantically analyzed all the potential disastrous outcomes. Scanning the cave, she took in a Talokanil warrior laying unmoving behind Nakia.

Riri stood fearfully pressed to the wall behind the spy as well. Bellowing for everyone to calm the f*ck down so they could all get the f*ck out of here, the scientist's wide eyes stared into the darkness of the tunnel closest to her that led into the grotto. Likely searching to see if any of the Talokanil had been alerted to their attempted escape. The massive caves created an echo which could alert even more of their captors.

Without hesitation, Okoye silently flew into action. The handmaid holding Shuri couldn’t see her from behind as the Wakandan general snatched her arm with the weapon and yanked it backwards so fast that Shuri nearly hit the floor at being newly freed. Okoye thanked all the gods for the training she and the other Dora ran Shuri through for most of her life as the Princess swiftly recovered and fled towards Nakia.

“Go with Nakia, now!” Okoye yelled as she disarmed the servant and hurled her blade in the opposite direction into one of the pools. “Take the scientist with you!” she shouted at the spy. It only took a few seconds for her to knock out the handmaid and leave her crumpled body behind her.

Except Shuri was at her side. While Okoye hissed in annoyance as to why she wasn’t with Nakia, Shuri ripped off one of her kimoyo beads and shakily pressed it into the area of the handmaid’s head where Okoye bounced it off the cave floor.

"I won't have her die because of me!" her tearful voice wavered.

Okoye closed her eyes to gather herself before she hauled Shuri to her feet by the arm. She dragged her over to where Nakia fired up her water transporter. The spy already prepared Riri with a breathing mask before tossing two more to Okoye. She and Shuri quickly donned the masks, even as Shuri’s head whipped around at the sound of the handmaid regaining consciousness.

“Go!” Okoye shoved Shuri towards Nakia’s transport. Not until the princess gripped the handles of it and Riri was secured did Okoye take her position on it too.

Water furiously bubbled and whirled around them as they made their escape to the surface. Okoye anxiously kept her vision locked below them, searching for any Talokanil on their tail. The dark waters were empty, save for normal sea life. She sent up a prayer to Bast for their safe recovery as the Wakandan ship’s beam pulled them up from the water and zoomed off back home.

It wasn’t until Okoye was safely on the ship behind the other three women did she remember the bag full of pearl beads still on her belt. She contemplated tossing them out through the ship’s opening on the floor. They could have trackers on them. Or be booby trapped to kill them all.

Except she’d watched as Attuma sewed some of them into the project for his sister. Glancing around at everyone recovering, she surreptitiously stuffed the pouch into the pocket of her Talokanil woven pants.

Upon returning to Wakanda and exiting the ship at the palace, Ramonda tersely dismissed Okoye for the rest of the day. That certainly wasn't a good sign. Giving the Wakandan salute, she was about to slink away before Shuri rushed forward and pulled her into a tight hug.

"I'll explain everything to umama," she tearfully promised.

Okoye returned her embrace. "While she is your mother, she is also my commander. I should have kept you safe-"

"And you did!" Shuri pulled away only to take one of Okoye's hands in hers. "I am alive and uninjured, as is Riri. Umama must understand."

Okoye didn't have the energy to tell her she expected the worst for her mistake in allowing them to be taken. She settled for silently nodding before excusing herself back to her rooms.

Reaching her quarters in the barracks of the palace where the Dora Milaje resided, she snatched the bag of pearls out of her pocket and shoved them into the back of the lowest drawer of the desk in her office. No need to dwell on anything that passed between her and the shark man general.

He wouldn’t hesitate to kill her or any of the rest of them should Namor order it. Just because he and his infernal king kept them in proverbial golden cages versus behind bars didn’t mean they weren’t hostages. All of the shark man’s words in his dulcet tones meant nothing in the face of his and his people’s actions.

They could have killed Shuri. They tried to kill Riri, who bore no responsibility for her professor’s or the U.S. government’s actions. She’d heard from Nakia how Namor so casually threatened the Queen’s and Princess’ life. The way he laughed and sneered as he said there was nothing her nation could exchange to get her back.

She owed the blue people of the deep absolutely no mercy. No matter their pretty and priceless trinkets. Now, she had her own worries. For she’d failed in her duty to keep Shuri safe in the first place.

The next few days would be filled with the consequences of all that passed. The Wakandan general was well aware of how Ramonda didn’t say a single word to her for the entire trip back to Birnin Zana on the ship after Nakia rescued them. Her head began to throb with dread at the Queen’s reaction.

Okoye most certainly wasn’t looking forward to any of it.

K’uk’ulkan immediately summoned Attuma to his hut in the grotto to inform him of the Wakandans’ escape. He’d been tricked by their serpent tongued queen’s meeting as a diversion. So simple, it lacked all honor. The games of children were at play. Or they would have been, if not for the murder one of the God King’s bodyguard and the injury of another handmaid assigned to them.

Attuma seethed as Namora furiously relayed the horror of watching the Talokanil warrior's life slip away. One of the other handmaids stumbled in on the scene as she went about her usual tasks. Rendered nearly comatose at the sight of death, she was escorted home into the care of her family by K’uk’ulkan’s other elite bodyguards. Namora swore to check on the woman daily until she became well enough to resume her duties. K’uk’ulkan would personally compensate her family for her distress.

Due to the herb their ancestors ingested and passed down, The Talokanil evolved to never die of disease. Their aging slowed, their natural life spans could easily go for well over a century. Far beyond the most advanced societies of surface dwellers. The sacred herb also meant all but the most severe wounds healed when they were submerged.

Only death due to surface dwellers, wild sea life, the occasional accident and old age occurred. Murders were rare and swiftly punished. Mostly on account of all the methods their society put in place to settle any type of dispute. A formal arbitration, advice from the community and council of elders solved most of their altercations. Save dealing with the incursions and fallout from surface dwellers, they were a peaceful and prosperous people.

Wiping her tears away, Namora spun on her king. No one was surprised at her demand of retaliation for so high an offense committed. The cowardly killing of one of their own was not to be forgiven. This would mean war. Attuma agreed, preparing himself.

After K’uk’ulkan dismissed Attuma and Namora with his barely contained rage, the general swiftly swam to his home on one of the main thoroughfares near Talokan's sun. Families lived in groups of stone walled structures called nah that contained low, wide thatched roofs. They were built in the same lots next to each other via blood relation.

As he had no spouse or children, Attuma's small nah sat connected via a wide, shared hallway to his married sister's larger one. He never felt lonely, constantly surrounded by his nieces and nephews. Along with the rest of his family in their interconnected nah surrounding them.

Attuma wanted to punch the walls apart. Or blow something up with a gaggle of water grenades. In this state, he could peel the very skin from a live moray eel and rip out its teeth one by one.

Clenching his fists at his sides, he paused as they swept against something hard and cold clipped to his wide sharkskin belt. Snatching it up, he growled. It was the surface warrior's spear. Collapsed in on itself, it snapped open at Attuma's finger pressing the button within its center.

He’d said she wasn't worthy of dying by his weapon after she kicked him in the balls before tearing through his neck rebreather and nearly ripping out his gills. He swiftly revised his decision when she boldly popped her shoulder back into place. Leaping to her feet allowed her to take the full force of his blow that drove her back to the rail of the bridge.

Adeptly twirling her spear in hand, his swirling opinions on her shifted yet again. Perhaps Okoye would indeed die by his hand and on the edge of her own weapon for her people’s murderous transgressions. He’d laid his heart in her trust. Poured over his personal pearls to gift her with the most exquisite of his collection. Had they not reached an accord? Did not her Princess parlay as an equal with the Great Feathered Serpent King?! Well, he certainly wouldn’t be deceived again. To play the fool twice spoke of a mind’s lack of wisdom.

Pressing the button again collapsed her spear before he clipped it back on. It would stay there to ensure he brought it to the surface to complete his mission.

"You're going to scare your nieces and nephews with all the bubbles you're churning up swimming back and forth in circles like a poisoned fish," a Talokanil woman clucked her tongue at Attuma. He frantically spun around to find his sister, Abha, staring at him. He had no idea when he'd wandered outside through the fishbone and petrified wood gate that separated their backyards from each other.

He let out an annoyed grunt as she snatched out to take his hand. Forcing him to still, she spun him around so that she could take him by the shoulders and press her forehead to his. "Come, baby brother," she let out a sharp exhale, "What ails you?"

Attuma quickly patted her hand upon him before pulling away. He took in how she crossed her arms. They were covered in her usual multicolored pearl bracelets as she fixed him with a curious look.

He returned it. "Forgive me. The secrets of the nation," he despondently retorted, “I cannot tell you.”

Abha arched a brow a him. "I do not question your required secrets. Only that you are clearly agitated and want to kill something to ease your volcanic soul at the moment.”

Abha always seemed to know him better than he knew himself. Then again, she was older.

Despite being quite a ways shorter than him, her strong, muscled body matched his. However, she preferred scientific pursuits and working in the labs was always her passion. Regardless, she'd always been the favorite of his siblings.

Born just a year before him being the baby of the family, they shared everything. To the point where people often mistook them for twins. Not that Attuma ever minded. Admittedly, they looked very similar. Though Abha's face was heart-shaped and more of their mother. The siblings still shared wide, slightly crooked noses, full lower lips, dimples and gently arched brows.

Even when he grew into his majority and surpassed her in height and size, Abha always soundly defeated him when it came to her sheer stubbornness in getting him to reveal his true feelings. Where she proved excitable and wonderfully blunt, he moved in quiet, strategic observation.

“A mission for K’uk’ulkan ended in an…interesting fashion,” he deeply sighed. “That’s all I can say.”

Abha shot him a doubtful glance before snatching him by the wrist and dragging him to her side of the gate into her nah. “The younglings are still at their lessons,” she waved around her empty receiving room. "And Yolotli is out running her usual errands.”

Attuma quietly chuckled. “How is my favorite sister-in-law?” he asked of Yolotli.

Abha shook her head in disbelief. “Your nephews and niece drive her to madness. But then she gets it into her head she wants another whenever they’re being cute,” she bawled with laughter. “We’ll see,” she brushed her hand over her stomach at Attuma’s smile. “Look here, you just get to spoil them all the time while I have to push them out!” she swatted him in the side.

“All the joy and no responsibility,” he slung an arm over her shoulder as she led him over to the dining area, “I’d say it’s a fair trade.” He didn’t have time to duck her smack to the back of his head.

He settled in and stripped off his armor and headdress. As she grabbed a bottle of chih liquor, Attuma noticed Abha remained in her work uniform from where she conducted her research in the science labs. Her specialty lay in botany, like their older brother who traded in plants used in meals, for industry and weaving. Abha excelled at the infusion of vibranium into organic materials.

Her jumpsuit glittered green with the intricately woven scales of Green Coris Wrasse fish. The cuffs of her sleeves and pants were woven through with the bright azure scales of damsel fish. She wore a simply carved jade nose plug. Both her ears bore black, triangular pearl cartilage studs that'd shaped the flesh of them into points overtime as a show of love for K’uk’ulkan and as many of their countrymen did.

They drank and caught up about all the local gossip and news that occurred during his time away guarding Okoye and the other surface dwellers. Attuma felt himself relaxing more and more. Abha had always been his relief, as he was hers when in need of unloading her worries. While the Wakandan’s escape and the death of one of Talokan’s warriors still lay heavy on his heart, being with his sister significantly lessened it. At least for now.

After a couple of hours of chatting, Attuma was pleasantly tipsy. Abha hauled him to his feet and they both wandered outside for him to bid her goodbye. It was only a few steps to his own nah on the other side of their shared gate.

Grimacing and looking down, Attuma suddenly realized he could perceive his shadow shimmering upon the ground. Nearly the same as when he went on land above the waves during his missions. Not quite as bright, but close. Glancing up at the satsun where the colossal vibranium sun glowed anew, his eyes widened at how it appeared the brightest he'd ever witnessed it.

Dropping an arm around his sister's shoulders he speedily asked, "I am not that drunk, am I? Do my eyes deceive me? Or is our sun...glowing even more?"

Abha glanced away and worried the corner of her mouth. "About that, brother…"

He gave Abha an increasingly wonderous look as she relayed how the surface princess and little scientist assisted their Talokanil masterminds in repairing the sun's increasingly dim output. The existing vibranium within it no longer required its original organic obsidian and algae components as a result.

The princess and scientist also collaborated to discover a revolutionary method to increase the speed of saltwater currents powering it. They now flowed through the sun thousands of times faster. It turned the sun into a truly endless supply of energy and light. There were even discussions of harnessing its new output into homes even further away than the thousands of miles from the capitol than previously possible.

Attuma's brows shot upward. On one hand, this act of miraculous brilliance from the surface dwellers would alter the destinies of his people for the better for generations to come. On the other? They lied and fled like cowards, leaving a murdered warrior and injured and traumatized handmaid in their wake. A rebuke of the guest rights given to them and a direct insult to the Great Feathered Serpent.

His hand drifted to Okoye's collapsed spear on his belt. It almost seemed to burn to his touch, causing him to snatch away. Abha's piercing gaze saw his action but didn't comment. Her baby brother would speak his thoughts when he felt the time was right.

She invited him to dinner, as his two nephews and niece missed him since he'd been gone from home so long. Attuma declined, but not before Abha threatened to steal his headdress if he did not join them for breakfast the next morning. He briefly grinned before pressing his forehead to hers in goodbye.

As he tied himself into his hammock for the night after a quick meal at his abode, Attuma's mind raced. Surface dwellers in general proved deeply troubling, he'd always known it. He wished to snap their necks. Or spear them beneath the waves until they could breathe no more, good only for fish food.

Yet he increasingly ached for the touch of the surface warrior. The way her big, dark eyes slid over him in astute observation warmed him. In entirely different circ*mstances, would her body be as unyielding beneath or on top of him as it was in their combat?

No matter what came to pass, his loyalty to K’uk’ulkan would go unmatched. But whether or not that would come at the price of the warrior's death was yet to be seen.

Chapter 4

Chapter Text

It turned out Okoye had every right to her fears. For things exploded the next day when she was summoned to the throne room first thing in the morning.

She looked around at the tribal council in disgusted astonishment. Most of them, including her own uncle M’Kathu representing the Border Tribe, didn’t even look at her as the Queen railed against her and stripped her of her position in the Dora Milaje. Only M’Baku met her gaze. His expression pinched, he gave her a barely perceptible nod. She didn’t know if it was one of agreement or contempt as he slouched in his seat while Ramonda howled her displeasure.

The Queen admittedly told nothing but truths. She’d indeed lost nearly everything. Her husband, her two children in the snap, then her son permanently. She almost lost her daughter too. Okoye understood her rage, her grief.

Yet what could she do? Abandon the Princess? Disobey her direct order? She didn't lie about all that occurred. That anyone in this room would presume she'd do so to save her own skin for her role in this disaster of the past week was an insult of the highest order. M'Kathu refused to make eye contact, looking everywhere around the throne room but at her.

As Ramonda finished, she demanded the general turn over her spear. It was only then that Okoye remembered she no longer had it in her possession. Left back in Talokan when they took it off her during her stay. Her eyes burned with unspilled tears of frustration at such a shameful realization.

She was about to comment on her missing weapon until Shuri spoke up. While her voice was steady, it was pitched with increasingly simmering fury. Not directed at the general. Rather, her own mother?!

"I ordered General Okoye to accompany me to Namor's realm," Shuri snapped from her seat next to the Queen. "The Dora Milaje have pledged loyalty to those who sit on the throne for hundreds of years, have they not, mother?"

Ramonda sneered, "Her actions put your life in danger-"

"Her actions are why I'm alive to tell you she carries absolutely no blame for what happened!" Shuri retorted.

"She should have fought to keep you safe!"

Shuri pointed a finger at Okoye, "And she did so! Or are you denying that I'm here? That the scientist is safe, unharmed and is currently our royal guest?"

Ramonda clutched an arm of the throne. "You shouldn't have been taken by that accursed fish man in the first place!"

M'Baku chuckled at Ramonda's adoption of his nickname for Namor. That was until she shot him a murderous glare. He quickly cleared his throat before going silent.

Shuri rolled her eyes. "I volunteered-"

"An incredibly poor decision on your part!" Ramonda hissed. "I assumed I raised you better than that. Clearly, I failed in that endeavor."

Shuri stiffened and crossed her arms as Okoye stilled at the Princess' open disdain in such a public forum.

"You didn't see the monsters she fought on that bridge," Shuri tossed back. "As she said, they have healing factors and could not be killed by means of the blade. Yet she rendered three of them motionless while they all fought her at the same time. That was before their massive general injured and nearly killed her. Yet she would have fought him to her death if I had not ordered her to stand down. I did what I did to save her, the scientist and myself."

Ramonda slapped her hand on her knee in retort. "You know not of what you speak."

"I dare anyone to make any better snap decisions while facing death as my general Okoye did that night," Shuri scowled.

"But child-'"

"I am no longer a child!" Shuri bellowed as she leapt to her feet. "You have no idea what I negotiated to keep us all safe before you sent along Nakia, who ruined everything!"

Everyone froze in place at the escalation. The room was utterly silent, save the echo of Shuri's outburst. The air heavy with discomfort, Okoye remained stock still, not wishing to attract attention. Ramonda drew back, appalled as Shuri pushed on.

"You keep treating me like I'm some baby. As though I didn't bring this nation into a renaissance of technology and advancement when I was a child!" Shuri pointed an accusing finger around the room. She shook with fury, eyes nearly black as her voice rose.

"As though I didn't mourn Baba's murder. As though I didn't watch as T'Challa wasted away while I could do nothing! Tell me, mother, in all of your wisdom, are these the acts of a child?!"

Ramonda slowly moved to her feet. Her fiery gaze never left Shuri's face as she growled, "Get out, Okoye."

“Stay!” Shuri ordered, “Stay. Because you need to hear this from my mouth, general Okoye.”

“I have stripped her of that!”

Shuri’s smile was so vicious, Okoye flinched. Drawing her shoulders back and standing tall, the Princess’ voice was filled with ire as she retorted, “Which is why it is perfect that I am assigning Okoye of the Border Tribe as general to my new bodyguard, the Midnight Angels.”

The council erupted with noises of confusion and displeasure. Voices loud with chaos, the room roiled with their commotion.

How amusing, Okoye sarcastically thought to herself, Only now does my precious uncle have words to say. All while the council chattered like petty birds. Well, save M’Baku silently leaning back in his seat.

His gaze darted between Shuri and Okoye while the council prattled on about how Shuri had no authority to override her queen. How she was a still a child despite being in her 20s. How Okoye failed at her job of protecting the princess. How the princess came back from this mysterious underwater kingdom clearly not herself. For why else would she dare go against royal protocol to support a near traitor like Okoye?!

After a long while, M’Baku let out a loud hoot. His men in the royal court replied in kind until the council eventually fell silent. Interestingly enough, only then did the Dora Milaje standing in their usual places above the crowd pound their spears in warning. M’Baku nodded his head at them in return. His expression remained implacable as he took a large chomp of his radish.

When the mining tribe representative suddenly tried to talk, M’Baku held up his hand and barked back. Before anyone could interrupt him again, the Jabari leader bowed his head in Shuri’s direction.

“By your leave, Princess Shuri of the Golden Tribe, I wish to speak on this,” he waved between her and Okoye. Everyone was stunned by his use of her full title alongside his deferential tone. Most also noticed how he didn't address Ramonda, who shot him a venomous expression.

Shuri looked back to him with surprised eyes before she nodded back. “Of course, M’Baku. We look forward to your comments.” She did not return to her seat as he began.

“Last I recall, our princess, who has gone through much in the nearly week she was away from us, has returned safe and healthy. Is that not true, Princess Shuri?”

Shuri immediately replied that it was.

“During her ordeal, which she volunteered for, our nation’s greatest general in Okoye, was by her side. She kept not only our princess free from harm but also and by all accounts, a brilliant scientist of the Lost Tribe. A woman barely into adulthood that this vicious fish man threatened to kill. Despite her invention meaning no harm and being sold without permission to colonizers, the world’s plague. Is this not true, Okoye?” he turned to her.

Okoye hesitated, eyes darting to Ramonda. The Queen remained squarely focused on her daughter as Okoye carefully answered, “Yes, M’Baku. That is all true.”

M’Baku crossed his arms and let out a satisfied grunt. “I believe you would never lie to us, General.” Ramonda flinched at her title as he continued, “Nor would you ever put our princess in a position to do so either.” Shuri tilted her chin upward in acknowledgement.

“So, not only did Okoye bring back this scientist to us, she defied the fish man and showed him the might and cunning of Wakanda. That our country will never bow to some water breather’s demands. Not especially demands he ordered while threatening our Queen and Princess when he came upon them out in the bush.”

The tribal council looked among themselves with awkward concern yet again. M’Baku noticed.

“Okoye undertook this all in circ*mstances far beyond what any of you,” he accusingly pointed at the other council members, “Have ever had to do in the entirety of your priviledged, lazy lives.”

Voice rising to drown out the others’ grumbling and gasps, he commanded, “Yet not a single one of you defended her. You did not dig to ensure she told the truth. You sat here on your behinds and refuse to take anything she has done, both in the past and present, into account."

M'Baku raised another hand to silence the attempted words of the River Tribe's leader.

"And you! M'Kathu of the Border tribe? You are the general's uncle. So I am especially disappointed in you. She is your flesh and blood! ”

M’Kathu bristled, mouth curling with scorn. “You’ve no right to question-”

M’Baku stomped his foot on the ground before he slapped his thigh and let out a bellowed hoot. “I have every right to question when this country and its countrymen do not defend one of their own who has repeatedly shown her loyalty to the throne. All despite her own personal losses.”

Okoye swallowed down her shock at the Jabari’s vehement support. What, by Bast, was he playing at?!

M’Baku’s voice rose, echoing in the royal chamber. His tone cold and laced with vicious aplomb, he continued. “You, M’Kathu, blue man of nothing, do not tell me who I can and cannot defend. Not when you are a coward who cares for naught but your prattling rather than your own family!”

M’Kathu leapt to his feet with a snarl and advanced on M’Baku with grasping hands that promised violence. Except one of the Dora Milaje leapt down from her perch into a gracefully executed flying combat roll as the others pounded the bottoms of their spears in admonition. Before they’d even finished, the Dora was in between M’Kathu and M’Baku, brandishing her spear at the former as she hissed for him to back down.

M’Baku didn’t bother to move from his seat. Instead, he shot the leader of the Border Tribe a wide smile as he finished off his radish. “I see who you are, M’Kathu,” he chuckled, “You are quick to anger at insult to yourself. Yet you insult your niece by remaining silent in the face of one of her greatest challenges.” Turning to Okoye he shook his head in disbelief. “How you do put up with such trifling behavior, general?”

Ramonda grit her teeth. “She is not-”

“She is my general!” Shuri cut her off, fists balled at her side.

M’Baku shrugged. “There is no phrasing or law in our great books or our constitution stating that the Princess cannot maintain her own bodyguard. I do not blame her for taking our greatest general to continue protecting her as she did during her visit to the fish man’s lair.”

“You dare go against your queen?” Ramonda cut her eyes at him, “You question my judgment?!”

M’baku gave a magnanimous wave of his hand as he bowed his head low. “Your most gracious highness, I did not mention you in my words,” he gravely replied, “I questioned the council and those who sit upon it who clearly do not care for their own families when faced with dire circ*mstances.”

“I want him off this council!” M’Kathu howled as he was restrained by the Dora slapping a hand down on his shoulder to keep him seated where she’d directed him before.

She leaned down and murmured into his ear loud enough for everyone to hear, “The next time I restrain you, no kimoyo bead will prove able to heal you without an extended visit to the nearest hospital, yes?”

M’Kathu stiffened in his seat and dropped his trembling hands to his knees. While he nodded in understanding, he looked to Okoye with indignation painted deep in his eyes. She stared back at him, unflinching.

M’Baku was right. Her uncle didn’t give a flying f*ck about how any of this personally affected her. He hadn’t visited her since her return last night. Didn’t message or call her. Didn’t send a messenger to check in on her.

He constantly harangued her over making amends with her traitorous ex-husband, “In a show of unity.” He always sucked his teeth at her for never having enough time to visit him despite knowing her responsibilities. When people whispered about whether or not she remained loyal despite her husband’s betrayal, he never publicly shut them down. During the Blip, he tried to burden her with using her influence to request more and more out of the Queen rather than asking her directly. He loudly announced his displeasure when she began divorce proceedings from her husband with T'Challa's permission upon his return after the Blip.

He gave Okoye absolutely nothing in return for her labors.

It took a Jabari to lay out the truth of the current attempted assassination of her reputation. Her stomach tilted and turned with nausea at this revelation. Okoye hoped no one saw her struggling to blink back her tears.

Shuri must of, as the former general felt her warm hand take her by the elbow and rapidly usher her out of the throne room. She missed whatever words were exchanged after M’Kathu’s outburst and the Dora’s promise to him if he continued his behavior. Her ears rung so much that all she heard was Shuri once again announcing her new position with the Midnight Angels. Along the Princess' warning to not bother in her labs. GRIOT then declared that entrance to them would be limited to everyone .

That meant the Queen as well.

Okoye stumbled along behind Shuri, throat painfully tight as tears now streamed freely down her face. The princess ordered all of the staff out of the labs with an incensed yell that had them scattering as she maneuvered her new general into the small office at the back of the lab.

Okoye recognized it as a place where Shuri slept whenever she spent the night, which was often.

The lights were always set to low and comforting. The vibranium infused glass walls could be set to be frosted over for privacy. As well as have various soothing patterns swirl through them, similar to a computer screensaver. Shuri ordered GRIOT set them for sleep mode. The room darkened as a twirl of dark colors slowly shot through the now black glass.

In the corner of the room was a couch that converted into a bed with a thick mattress. Shuri always had it set to bed mode and with brightly colored and soft blankets and pillows scattered on it. Above it was a simulated window that projected various images backed by real-time lighting in sync with the sun. It helped keep Shuri's circadian rhythm in check. In the opposite corner was a small refrigerator that was constantly filled with her favorite food and drinks.

Okoye didn't even realize she'd wretched up her breakfast all over until GRIOT's voice called out in alarm over the precipitous drop in her body temperature. Shuri rushed to her side, pressing a clean cloth to her mouth as she collapsed to her knees. The slam of her wrist on the tiled floor barely registered. Not until her name rose over and over again on Shuri's lips could she begin to breath again.

Except she dry heaved, bile splattering on the floor beneath her. Trapped in the narrowing darkness of her vision collapsing in on itself, she gave herself over to the void. If only she'd done the same on the bridge. Dying seemed so much more worthy of the nothingness she'd now become.

Okoye's eyes fluttered open to be met the dimmed lights of Shuri's office. She struggled to sit up from where she lay before a hand dropped to her chest.

"You fainted," Shuri's worried voice rang out next to her. "I fetched a doctor. Your vitals are stable but you still gave me a f*cking fright, Okoye."

Okoye didn't fight the Princess as she all but ordered her to remain lying down. The general was stiff as Shuri tucked her in. Shuri remained sitting next to her as Okoye turned her back to her.

Okoye despised how her chest heaved as she vainly bit back her soft cries echoing around them. All of the dread of the last few days seemed to explode out of her in her current state. Her skin felt clammy and cold as her heartbeat roared in her ears. Curling in on herself seemed the only way to regain control over her body.

Shuri never left her side as she wept, sweeping her hand up and down her arm until she fell silent.

"Forgive me for putting you in such a f*cked-up position," Shuri whispered, "It should have never happened.

But I was the one who insisted you accompany me to retrieve the scientist, Okoye inwardly raged. It was too hard for her mouth to form the words. Instead, she fell into a fitful, dreamless sleep.

Only Bast knew what the fallout would be over their disastrous misadventures.

The next morning, Okoye snuck out of Shuri’s lab when the Princess was called away by the Queen. She could only imagine what that meeting entailed.

She'd barely stepped into her home in the capital before her father called her on her kimoyo beads.

I take it uncle M’Kathu gave you the news? Okoye exhaustedly replied.

You know I don’t believe single word from that gossiping old fool’s flapping gums, her father, Tanisko, sucked at his teeth.

Okoye wiped away her tears. What if he’s right, baba? I am no more-

Stop that right now, isithandwa [sweetheart]! We will figure it all out better with a warm meal in your stomach. Ndiyakukhumbula kakhulu [I miss you a lot]. Come, have lunch with me. You can even spend the next few days here, eh?”

She was able to negotiate him down to spending only one night there.

Just being in the border tribe after her divorce made things uncomfortable. People acted as though it was her fault her husband turned traitor. As though she would ever contemplate turning against the throne when she was Dora Milaje.

The only reason she didn’t ask her father to move into her house in the capital was that she didn’t want to take him away his familiar surroundings of her childhood home. He remained close to his neighbors and his side of the family, especially after her mother's death. To save Okoye from dealing with the others in the tribe who blamed her (for he refused to remain friendly with any of them), he preferred visiting her.

This was an odd situation though.

Okoye sat at the dining room table of her childhood home as her father puttered around the kitchen.

The house appeared to be a simple, round, rondevel style hut, like all of the homes of the border tribe. All in order to keep up the illusion to outsiders that Wakanda was but an unassuming, poor nation without advanced tech. Above ground was a sparsely decorated living room, working kitchen connected to small dining room and a couple of bedrooms. The home appeared to have a sloping, heavily thatched roof with curved walls of large stones and brick and mortar.

However, heading downstairs into the subterranean rooms revealed a structure just as advanced as any other in Wakanda. AI interface linked all electronics together and was fully integrated with the kimoyo beads. Every room was spacious and outfitted with faux windows that were programmed on light running on the same schedule as real sunlight. A blend of traditional décor of the floor mats, blankets and intricately carved, dark wooden furniture fit seamlessly with vibranium designs that were also linked via AI.

All above ground structures were reinforced with vibranium and various security measures. Each home contained escape tunnels leading to various hubs. From there, a train system could rapidly move tens of thousands into the country’s interior to safety should the border be breached or otherwise compromised.

Which was why Namor’s incursion to threaten Ramonda and Shuri proved so shocking. No entity should have been able to slip past any of the borders or use the rivers to infiltrate. Then again, Wakanda never faced a nation with as much vibranium as them. That vibranium was undetectable now proved a blessing as well as a curse.

Before long, Tanisko set a plate of food down in front of his daughter after dropping hand of comfort to her shoulder. Preparing his own plate, he took a seat next to her. They sat in the above ground section of the house. The windows thrown open to let in the fresh air on this particularly humid day allowed the smell of delicious food to waft around Okoye.

“Let me know if you want anymore,” her father gave her wink and wide smile.

She couldn’t hold back a grin despite her mood. “ Baba , you always do this,” she lightly kicked her foot into his shin. It only caused him to laugh as he shook his head in disagreement. “You cook enough to feed the entire village every time I come over when you know it’ll just be the two of us.”

Tanisko shrugged as he ate. “Well, now you’ll have to take the rest home. At least you won’t have to go shopping all week.”

“More like all month,” she rolled her eyes even as she reached out to give his hand an affectionate squeeze. They ate lunch in comfortable silence.

As always, Tanisko waited for his daughter to gather her thoughts and speak first. Only then would he’d start asking her what came to be. He refused to listen to the usual howls of indignation from his brother-in-law, M’Kathu. The first thing that bothersome wretch did as soon as he left the throne room was call Tanisko. He didn’t once inquire about his niece’s health to her own father. Rather, he spun tales of what allegedly occurred in the throne room yesterday upon the return of the trio’s return.

As much as Tanisko adored his wife, may she rest with the ancestors, he despised her family. They’d always looked down on him for coming from an allegedly inferior family who preferred science to the military or intelligence services. Considering his wife was War Dog, he enjoyed raising his daughter during her absences. He also didn’t mind having just one child. His wife loved her career and protecting their people. Why deny her such with more children when that’s what they agreed to before their marriage?

Okoye was nearly through her second plate of food before she broke down.

Hastily moving their plates to the living room and setting them on the coffee table in front of the couch, Tanisko sat them both down and pulled his daughter into her arms as she explained the entire situation. She knew he wouldn’t tell a soul about the new civilization of Talokan. Living with a War Dog in her mother, he was used to keeping state secrets.

He listened before hummed an old lullaby as she finished. Not caring as her tears stained his dark blue and white patterned tunic, he sat with her until she fell silent.Tanisko then retreated to one of the bedrooms to get a blanket and pillow before returning to tuck Okoye into where she now lay sideways across the couch. He sat on its opposite end, allowing her to press her feet into his side as he dropped a protective hand over her ankles.

“I knew M’Kathu was full of half-truths,” he angrily clucked his tongue. “I have half a mind to throw a brick of vibranium through his window at his puffed up, useless head-”

“Baba!” Okoye exclaimed at her father’s outburst. He waggled his grey eyebrows at her, even as his eyes darkened. A joke but also a threat. Wiping a hand over his balding head before rubbing his grey bearded chin in contemplation, he shook his head. “How is it that the large Jabari leader spoke better words in your defense than your own uncle?!”

Okoye closed her eyes and shrugged. “M’Baku said the same.” Her brief chuckle had her father patting her ankles. “You should have seen how M’Kathu tried to attack him.”

“Again, a well-placed brick to the face for that one!”

Okoye couldn’t help her giggle at his words. However, her father’s voice fell to serious after they discussed the latest village gossip.

“Unjani [how are you] really?” he asked. Okoye shakily shrugged, causing Tanisko to cluck his tongue. “I know this has broken your heart, intombi yam endiyithandayo [my dear daughter]…perhaps this is also an opportunity to pursue something else you love?”

Okoye squeezed her eyes shut. “I love my country and my duty,” she whispered. “Mother would be so disappointed-”

“Nonsense!” he swiftly cut her off. “Your mother cried with joy the day the you became a Dora. That was enough for her, knowing that you rose to beyond even her own dreams.”

“She died in the line of duty,” Okoye hissed, “I couldn’t even manage that.”

She forgot how strong her father could be as he moved from the couch and quickly hauled her to her feet. Holding her by her shoulders, Tanisko’s dark eyes bore into hers.

“You mother,” he began, voice hoarse, “May have died a hero for her country. But I’d rather have her back with us a thousand-fold. No medal of honor or pension or praise can bring her back to us, Okoye. And I say the same of you, you hear me?”

She tried to push him away, but he wasn’t having it as he pulled her into a hug.

“You are my family. I could care less what you did while down in those accursed depths so long as you are here, alive and physically unhurt.” Voice thick with emotion, he held his daughter to his chest and ran a hand of comfort up and down her back. “My prayers for your delivery have been answered and that is all I need, umkhonto wam omncinci [my little spear]. Nothing more. You are alive and that is the greatest gift anyone may ask of you.”

Okoye felt as though she’d cried more in the last two days than she’d done in her entire lifetime. And like always, her father was there to catch her.

Pulling away, he wiped at her wet cheeks. “Your uncle and any who speak like him are no better than rabid dogs. Do not let their poison make your heart ill, eh?”

“Easier said than done,” Okoye spat as she dropped her hands to his wrists.

“I’ll fight every single one of them!” Tanisko swore. “Now, rest. Whatever you wish to do here, I will ensure you may. Whatever you wish me to cook and so on? It is yours. No,” he waved away her attempt to talk, “You are in need of rest. I will provide it.”

Okoye ended up spending two days with her father. On the third morning as she left, he made arrangements to come to the capital and stay with her for as long as she needed. With a hard hug of goodbye and bags upon bags of food and prepped meals loaded onto the hovering transport she programmed to be delivered to her own home, she headed back to the Golden City.

“It’s complete and utter bullsh*t,” Aneka kissed her teeth as she assisted Okoye in packing up her office in the barracks of the palace where the Dora lived.

While the (former? She honestly didn’t know if Shuri was prepared to launch this Midnight Angels project) general appreciated Aneka ranting about how unfair this all proved, she couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “You and your colonizer lingo,” she tried to lightly say. Yet it still didn’t feel right joking as she packed up her entire career into little, organized boxes.

Aneka huffed out a long line of curses. “I only speak the truth, general… Okoye ,” she swiftly corrected herself at Okoye’s resigned expression.

She purposely scheduled emptying her office when newly installed general Ayo was out training with the other Dora. Okoye was grateful that Ayo took them all out in the morning. She suspected it was to purposely to allow her to gracefully turn over her office. Yet for better or worse, Aneka caught her packing away her things. Okoye tried to shove her out of the room. Aneka had absolutely none of it, dragging Okoye into a tight hug and refusing to let go until she was satisfied that the former general heard her words of heated disagreement about everything.

“You speak of treason, girl!” Okoye warned as she was released from the other woman’s embrace.

Aneka wrinkled her nose, eyes sharp with disagreement. “Let the queen herself toss me out of the guard!”

“ Aneka-!”

“I stand on my every word,” the younger woman crossed her arms. “Besides, I hear the Midnight Angels could use more founding members, eh?”

Discreetly holding the shark man's pouch in her hand, Okoye nearly spat out a curse. The priceless gift proved too much. Both in its value and as a sign of what it cost her upon her return home. To be so publicly censured on top of that made her want to toss the pearls into the nearest dustbin. Then again, that would be a waste. Perhaps she’d sell them and donate the funds elsewhere. Mouth curling with derision, she tossed them in the bottom of one of her moving boxes.

“I’m serious, you know,” Aneka turned towards her to deposit her box onto the desk. They were nearly done on account of Okoye never having too many personal items in this professional space. “I could be a Midnight Angel. The princess welcomes all sorts of new ideas and I greatly loved those sonic daggers she had me test out.”

“You still should have used your spear,” Okoye admonished.

Aneka rolled her eyes before quickly putting up a hand of surrender at Okoye’s harsh gaze. “I fully respect the traditions of the glorious spear!” she insisted. “At the same time? I also believe in evolution of methods. The Dora will always be there, Bast protect them,” she made a sign of blessing in front of herself. “But the Angels? They are new and exciting!”

Okoye shook her head in disagreement as she loaded the boxes onto a floating, flat transporter. “What sort of message would it send to have a newly inducted Dora Milaje break ranks to join a freshly disgraced general into a group that barely exists?” she threw her hands up in exasperation. “A group the Tribal Council rebuked as borderline illegal, which the Queen herself all but agreed with?!”

“I do not care,” Aneka retorted with a defiant tilt of her chin.

“Your reputation will be ruined, girl!”

“And I do. Not. Care,” Aneka countered. “Look what all your loyalty got you, sis? A group of chattering hyenas in the council who didn’t lift a finger to defend you in repayment for decades of service? The Queen railing against you. She is so deep in her grief that she cannot see sense in the fact that you brought Shuri back unharmed-!”

Okoye clapped a hand over Aneka’s mouth with hiss of warning. “She is your queen!”

Aneka pushed her wrist away. “I do not deny that, of course. Nonetheless, she is not infallible…I will talk to Shuri about these Midnight Angels.”

“You do not-!”

“For once, Okoye, stop trying to affect something beyond your control,” Aneka firmly retorted. At Okoye’s incensed expression, she took a retreating step even as she quietly continued, “I mean you no disrespect, usisi wam [sister mine]. I simply mean that you cannot influence my feelings on these matters. Nor my personal decisions and love for you and what you did for Shuri during these last few days. You are my general.”

“That is Ayo!”

Aneka’s dark eyes lined in their precise, sparkling deep azure kohl lit up. Okoye most certainlky didn’t like the rabid smile beginning to form her on her face. Before she could move, Aneka hauled her into another embrace before pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. “You’re a genius!” she crowed.

Okoye drew back. “What is the meaning of this?” she furiously waved.

“A conflict of interest, as it is called,” Aneka dropped her hands to clasp Okoye’s upper arms. “It is unethical for my lover to also be my general! So I will resign my position out of a concern for my integrity and to ensure there no favoritism shown to me within the Dora Milaje ranks. With that, I shall apply to a post in your Midnight Angels!”

Okoye let out an incredulous guffaw only to nearly choke on her tongue at the other woman’s completely serious look. “You worked for years to become one of us?!”

“And now, I am evolving,” Aneka happily shrugged. At Okoye’s mouth opening in retort, she held up a hand. “I will not be swayed,” she vowed.

Shoulder’s heaving, Okoye closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose for a long while. “Ayo is going to murder you,” she looked up in astonishment, “And I refuse to lift a finger to stop her.”

“She can try,” Aneka carelessly waved before going back to finishing up the packing, “But a Midnight Angel is diligent in all of her duties and will not be so easily ended,” she merrily finished.

At a complete loss for words, Okoye went back to packing. Once finished, she allowed Aneka to bid her goodbye before she set coordinates in the transporter to delivery her good back to her home in the capital.

She’d emptied the home back in the Border Tribe lands she shared with W’Kabi just before T’Challa fell ill. It coincided with her beloved king granting her divorce. It’d been awkward to explain her decision to M’Kathu. Now, she was glad that her current living situation meant she could avoid him. Especially now that she’d no longer constantly be in the throne room since she’d been stripped of her position.

With her promising Aneka could visit her in the evenings, she headed home. Now, it was a matter of figuring out what to do with the rest of her life.

After another couple of days of moping around her house, Okoye was surprised at Shuri’s summons back to the lab. Dragging herself out of bed and ordering her windows to let in the sunlight after lying in the darkness, she showered for the first time in as many days. She nearly lied and sent a message to Shuri claiming illness. The Princess would just keep calling her until she showed up at her home in person and hauled her in herself.

Okoye thanked the gods that the lab had a separate entrance. All the better to avoid the whispers and gawking of various courtiers and people wandering the main palace areas. Being anywhere in the palace in civilian clothes felt deeply disheartening.

Upon her arrival, her loud sigh only caused Aneka to smirk. The younger woman stood next to Shuri. She watched in wonder as the Princess went over the Midnight Angels suit designs in her 3D rendering of their models as Okoye walked in.

Okoye immediately clocked that Aneka wore civilian clothes as well. Marching up to her, she grabbed Aneka by shoulder. “Please don’t tell me you resigned your commission with the Dora Milaje?!” Aneka’s smirk confirmed it even before she nodded in affirmation. “Child, what have you done?” Okoye’s mouth hung open.

Aneka’s hand clasped Okoye’s wrist. “Worry for yourself, usisi [sister],” she gave her a squeeze. “I came to this decision on my own and have been wishing for a new path for some time now. This,” she waved at the 3D model, “Is the future. It is evolution.”

Evolution is in the eyes of the beholder, the water elf’s terse words snatched at Okoye’s mind. Shaking her head to be rid of him, her ragged sigh echoed around in the air. “So long as you don’t regret it.”

“I will not!” Aneka confidently smiled. “We are in the dawning of a new age, general.”

“I am not-”

“You are general of the Midnight Angels,” Aneka insisted, “As such, you will protect Wakanda against these new enemies of fish folk who dared lay a hand on any of our own. That is that.”

Shuri shrugged in agreement before she went back to explaining her plans for the suits. Well, at least Aneka agreed that they were pretty ugly. Shuri pouted, pointing out her main concerns were upgrading the suits to deal with the new threat of Talokan. They knew the Talokanil could bleed and sonic weapons proved deadly per Nakia’s rescue. Aesthetics would come later.

Okoye spent the following days in Shuri’s lab working with Aneka on the Midnight Angels project. They took the suits for test runs, including in more desolate areas of the various rivers throughout the country to keep their developments secret. Shuri invented breathing apparatuses within the suits to pull oxygen directly from the water itself. That in theory allowed them to remain submerged indefinitely due to no need for an oxygen tank. The main issue was the suits' abilities to remain watertight for easy maneuverability but also strong enough to take an enhanced Talokanil assault.

In the evenings, Okoye returned home to spend time with her father. It was a relief having someone so familiar in her home. While living alone had its benefits, she hadn’t done so since before her long marriage. Talking about her day with a trustworthy person who didn’t constantly question her or play devil’s advocate with her decisions made her current distress significantly less. She silently gave praise to the ancestors for her father’s company.

On roughly the 10th day since their return from Talokan, Okoye sat eating lunch in the lab as Shuri ordered GRIOT to make additional upgrades to the new suits. Rebuilt from the ground up, this thinner yet more reinforced version of vibranium made them feel more akin to a second skin.

Okoye no longer fought against the flow of the current in her test runs due to the suit’s new capabilities of calibrating and correcting for every water shift. She and Aneka sparred beneath the surface of the rivers without exhausting themselves so quickly. Admittedly, it wasn’t the same as fighting against an enhanced Talokanil. But they had to start from somewhere.

As Shuri scribbled out plans, Okoye spotted an unusual bracelet on her opposite wrist where she wore her kimoyo beads. Woven of light-colored threads and beaded with three rows of pearls and gold, four jade stones set in gold sat in its center. Okoye didn’t recall seeing it before they arrived in Talokan. Casually getting up and making her way over allowed her a closer look at the jewelry. Carved into the jade stones were Mayan glyphs.

She suddenly recalled the shark man’s words on the day they were rescued. Of how the water elf and Princess arrived to an agreement for their release.

Aneka wasn’t currently in the lab. Just the usual assists scurrying around. Perfecting the Midnight Angels uniforms was top priority. The result of Shuri’s usual obsessive motivations.

“You’re aching for a break, Shuri,” Okoye ordered.

“I’m fine-”

Okoye crossed her arms as she firmly questioned, “Name me the last thing you ate?”

Shuri guiltily looked around before shrugging. She didn’t struggle as Okoye led her into the office and pointed for her to have a seat on the pull-out bed. Retrieving an energy drink and handful of snacks from the fridge in the corner, she handed it to Shuri before taking a seat beside her as she ordered GRIOT to close the door.

The general eyed the bracelet again. She didn't say anything for a long while before finally muttering, "What did you promise him for our release?"

The princess froze. “Who?” she feigned ignorance.

Okoye narrowed her eyes but willed her tone to remain calm. “The water elf…Namor.”

At least Shuri’s burst of laughter hadn’t lost its joy. “Water elf?!”

“That’s all he is, as far as I’m concerned,” Okoye insisted. “But stop stalling,” she lightly took Shuri’s hand in hers. The hand of the wrist that wore the odd bracelet. “What agreement did you make with him to let us go after so long?”

"How did you know-?"

"His shark man general told me we were being returned to the surface a few hours before Nakia arrived. All three of us. Unharmed." Scooting closer, Okoye stared at the bracelet. "Shuri, please don’t try to deceive me; what did you give Namor for us?"

The Princess swallowed before she tried to casually wave everything away. "It's not important right now. All of us are outta there-"

"Shuri, don't! " Okoye hissed.

"I offered to accept his courtship to draw our nations together in an alliance," Shuri rushed out, dropping her eyes to stare at her lap.

"MARRIAGE?!" Okoye screeched jolting upwards. Snatching at Shuri's wrist, she adamantly shook her head in disbelief. "What in the bloody name of Bast have you done?!"

Shuri let out a mirthless chuckle, expression haunted. "I said courting- "

"Which comes with an expectation of marriage… does he anticipate ruling this kingdom through you?! You are the last heir to the Golden Tribe, Shuri. What is that little water elf going to expect when you inherit the throne?!"

She waited for the princess to rage at her for pointing out the obvious. Instead, Shuri gripped her hand even harder as her eyes finally met Okoye’s. “You didn’t see their capital city, Okoye,” she whispered, “The sun we repaired? He created that for them using their scientists’ knowledge. While the original sun was dying, they likely would have found a solution on their own without me. They, like us, are not a nation to be trifled with.”

Okoye scowled. “That doesn’t mean he as the right to force you into a relationship-”

“It wasn’t force!” Shuri sharply retorted, dropping Okoye’s hand. At the general’s stunned expression, the Princess squeezed her eyes shut.

“Before Nakia…arrived,” she faintly began, “Namor spoke of his nation. Of how they fled the Conquistadors, forced into the seas by the same colonialism that had Wakanda hiding itself for centuries.”

Okoye nodded in agreement. “His shark man general told me of their people’s history.”

“We, our people? So similar, Okoye,” Shuri grasped both the general’s hands in hers. “We were a people who also had to isolate ourselves to save us. Who knows what would have happened if not for Bashenga finding the heart shaped herb and granting us a protector? It was not so long ago that we too killed to keep Wakanda’s secrets for the greater good.”

Okoye’s deep groan caused Shuri to tighten her hold. “I know. We have progressed though. Our leaders listen to council and do not try to kill innocent teenagers who find themselves taken advantage of.”

Shuri worried her lower lip with her teeth. “I explained that to him about Riri. It took a while, nearly all the time we were down there. He eventually agreed to let her go with us, so long as she was watched by Wakanda. Once she returns home, she will have War Dogs assigned to both her and her family back in Chicago to ensure their government does not target them again.”

“That’s a relief,” Okoye replied.

“I also assigned her kimoyo beads in case she needs evacuation if she is targeted. And then mother had to ruin it and send Nakia-”

Okoye pulled away from Shuri to rest her hands in her lap. “You heard how he threatened the Queen? How he said there was nothing she could give him for your safe return? How he threatened to kill you for no reason, save to taunt a mother searching for her lost child? If he cared to truly negotiate, he wouldn’t have toyed with the Queen’s emotions over losing you.”

The noise that escaped Shuri’s throat sounded bone-tired. “He is…mercurial.” At Okoye’s doubtful look, Shuri barked out a laugh. “Fine, he’s hotheaded and seems only able to focus on operating via whatever means necessary. Yet it’s all to protect his nation that he dearly loves."

Okoye sat back on the bed, allowing herself to slightly relax. “Intent matters…until one’s actions move into unforgivable. As the colonizers say, the road to their hell is paved with good intentions. I still want to know why you offered him courtship? Arranged marriages are incredibly archaic. You’re young, your entire life ahead of you. He’s hundreds of years old, considering he was the first born of Talokan.”

Shuri cleared her throat and avoided Okoye’s gaze. “Oh, Shuri!’ Okoye exclaimed. “Have you even been in love before?”

“I’ve had…liaisons,” the Princess stubbornly insisted.

“That is far more than I needed to know,” Okoye murmured with a grimace, “But have any of those been love? Remember, his people have the power of sirens,” she uncomfortably continued, remembering the shark man’s attempt to sing her to sleep. “How do you know he hasn’t manipulated you? Wakanda is a pearl all for his taking. Should he tie himself to you, he could strip this nation bare in the name of protecting his own.”

Shuri wrinkled her nose. “He has no interest in creating an empire. He would’ve conquered beyond his borders already if he wanted it. They have the methods and means to do so. He just wishes his people to be left alone in peace.”

It was a valid point. That didn’t mean Okoye had to trust the smug water elf.

A thought suddenly occurred to her. Clearing her throat, she forced her voice to remain calm despite her rising realization. “What is to stop Namor from pursuing you and insisting on a marriage to gain the throne?”

Shuri’s silence spoke volumes. “This is why the Midnight Angels are so vital. We must be prepared.”

“You think he will attack?” Okoye clucked her tongue.

“He may view my escape as breaking our pact,” Shuri huffed.

Rolling her shoulders, Okoye stood and held out a hand for Shuri to take. Pulling the princess to her feet, she narrowed her eyes. “Then we need to speed up the timeline on having that armor prepared for me and Aneka.” At Shuri’s nod of approval, she followed her back out to the labs.

On the 13th day since their escape from Talokan, the blood red and orange rays of sun barely crested the horizon as the fishermen of the River Tribe begam their day. They guided their vibranium reinforced boats out into the center the main river of the Q’Noma Valley where they resided. The river flowed from Nalubaale , or Lake Victoria as the colonizers called it. All the way out to the vast Indian Ocean.

The fishing boats greeted each other with the usual calls over their bows. With little competition between them due to the river’s abundance, families fished here for generations. Everyone knew the best catches were completed before the tenth hour of the morning. For the sun at its highest peak pushed the sea creatures down deeper than their nets allowed. It also ensured there was no overfishing and the region would continue to flourish.

From there, the fruits of the sea would be cleaned, inspected and brought to various markets by around noon. Miles upriver was the Great Marketplace of the Golden City. The people would be able to purchase what they wished fresh and just in time for the days’ meals.

Tizita sat at the wheel of her fishing vessel despite the usual AI guiding it on its route. Her salt and pepper dreadlocks that usually hung to her midback were tied up into an intricate bun of swirls along the top of her head. The dark green and gold shimmering scarf looped around her forehead would keep the sweat off her brow. For the day was heating up to be a humid one since it was the beginning of the rainy season.

In a waterproof, nearly black jumpsuit that covered her plump form with the gold embroidered cuffs rolled to her hefty elbows, her amber colored eyes scanned the horizon as the sun slowly crested it. Its rays bounded off the intricately carved ebony cuff around her forearm.

She’d fished for decades. Remembering the times before Wakanda’s technological renaissance, as much as she was used to it now, she trusted her own hands more. No machine could make up for generational experience as far as she was concerned. So she rested her hands on the wheel of the medium-sized fishing vessel. Despite how it moved of its own accord with the AI.

Her teenaged grandson sat by her side in the first mate’s chair on the upper deck of the vessel. She'd allowed him to skip school that day since he was so far ahead in his studies. Learning the old ways of fishing would do the boy some good. Perhaps even get him to take those accursed ear buds out. Then again, most 14 year-olds rarely found much interesting about tradition. He hoped to one day work in the royal labs up at the palace in Birnin Zana.

“Fikru!” she repeated for a third time before lightly smacking him upside the back of his head.

His big, glittering, warm brown eyes went wide as she startled him out of mouthing the words to the latest Busiswa song blasting out of his kimoyo beads. He jerked upwards while taking one of his earbuds out. Crooked smile charming, he bopped his head to the song continuing in his other ear.

“Ewe, umakhulu wam endimthandayo? [Yes, my dear grandmother?]”

She smirked as he ducked another hand to his head. “Don’t you sweet-talk me. You know you should be checking the cranks of the nets over on the starboard! We’ll be at the fishing grounds in just ten minutes. Go, help Yafet out there.”

Smoothing down his waterproof bomber jacket, Fikru nearly slipped as he pulled back on his galoshes. Dropping a kiss to her cheek, he barked out a laugh as she muttered about how useless he was before he put his earbud back in.

They chugged along out to the faster currents of the wide river. The fish preferred these sections of their environment and swam in schools that easily netted up.

A soft, low hum unlike anything Tizita ever heard inexplicably began buzzing in her ears. It didn’t seem to coming from the vibranium ship. Nor from the AI guiding it.

Her limbs inexplicably loosened. Mind slipping to oddly sluggish, she clenched her jaw and gripped the steering wheel tighter to focus. It granted her only few moments of clarity before she felt her eyelids beginning to droop.

The drone of the noise shifted higher. Sweeter, calming. Like a lullaby she vaguely remembered her utatomkhulu [grandfather] sang to her to bring calm whenever she’d have a nightmare. Or worry about the monsters of her dark bedroom trying to snatch her down to the badlands.

A dreamy grin swept to Tizita’s face at the random recollection.

She missed her utatomkhulu . He was a good man. Honorable. He adored his grandchildren, telling them tales of the days of old. Back when Wakandans led simpler lives and had little worries of the modern world. She prayed he’d found his way to his ancestors. That he watched over Fikru, who contained the same easy-going manner and bright smiles as his elder.

Her brilliant grandson looked like him too. His lean features, lanky build and deep russet, tightly coiled hair he’d grown out into an impressive afro over the last year or so proved nearly the spitting image of her utatomkhulu in his youth. She'd seen portraits of him scattered around her parents' home. Fikru was taller than her now.

Wait…where was he? Eh, it was no matter. She’d find him after she took a quick nap. The boat’s AI would take care of everything…

Fikru stood frozen on the starboard as the crew dropped like the dead around him. Finally rushing to Yafet, he vainly attempted to shake the man awake. There was no response. Fingers shaking, he reached out and breathed a sigh of relief at feeling the crewman’s steady heartbeat at his neck.

“What in the f*ck?!” the child choked out as he looked around again.

While the boats long the river continued moving towards their destinations, they were devoid of crew. Running to the other side of the vessel brought Fikru the same sight. Peering over the railing down into the depths, a skittering noise along the boat’s side caused him jerk his head in its direction.

Fikru let out a harrowing scream as he was abruptly yanked over the edge and hurled into the river.

A strong swimmer he was, like his fellow tribesmen. Yet the shock of hitting the cold waters immobilized him. Not until he started to cough and gulp out precious air did he frantically begin swimming towards the surface.

Head popping above it, his eyes widened at the sight of…blue people?! They wore weird-ass clothing that only covered their private bits as they crawled up the sides of the other boats. The moved with ease, like attacking spiders out of some horror movie. In their hands were spears.

He’d watched enough media from outside of his country to know that most folks preferred those inferior guns as weapons. Plus, they weren’t f*cking blue .

The teen treaded the water, grateful that his vibranium infused trousers weren't weighted down with wetness. He frantically looked around towards his grandmother’s ship. He swallowed back another scream as other crewmen were tossed overboard. Before he could swim towards to them keep them from drowning, they were brought back to the surface by more of the blue people.

Fikru’s frenzied heartbeat frantically rang in his ears as he took in how these invaders managed to haul fully grown men and women weighted down by the water back to the shore one-handed. As though they weighed nothing.

f*ck!

It was impossible to hold in a screech at the feel of someone or something hoisting him out of the water by the collar of his jacket. Cursing them didn’t seem to shock them into letting him loose as he too was towed to the shore. His attempts to kick at them earned him their words he couldn’t understand ringing harshly in his ears. Reaching down, he pressed a kimoyo bead with two fingers to send out a distress signal to the emergency services.

Where, in the name of Mami Wata, was his grandmother?!

“f*ck outta here!” he squawked, batting his arms at whatever held him. It caused their grip to tighten. Once again, words in some enigmatic language rasped around him.

Before he could land a single hit, he flew through the air only to painfully land on the sandy soil of the river bank. His wheezing strained to get the air back in his lungs from the impact. The hollow voice of the AI of his kimoyo beads distantly relayed that he hadn’t suffered any injuries, save bruising. It took far longer than he liked to rock to his feet. He'd lost one earbud as he tucked the other in the pocket of his pants.

A hand wrapped around his ankle and he kicked them off with a harrowing yelp before he stumbled forward. Willing his legs to move, he took off in a run without looking behind himself.

"Fikru!" a bellowed yell echoed behind him.

His grandmother!

He nearly collided with a tree as he halted to spin around only to race back towards his grandmother who struggled on her back underneath one of the blue people. They howled as she plunged her fileting knife into their side, just below their ribs. She always carried it on her to swiftly gut and clean fish. It's sharp edge proved deadly otherwise.

Fikru palmed his own filleting knife as he advanced in an attempt grab her by the arm and help her to her feet. Problem was, the thing she stabbed stumbled to its feet. While it clutched at its stomach, they didn't appear otherwise incapacitated. In fact, drawing their hand away revealed a wound slowly sealing itself.

Tizita's eyes widened as she sat up. "Run, boy!" she screamed over her shoulder to her grandson as she struggled to get to her feet.

Fikru stood paralyzed, torn between dragging her away and heeding her warning. Except yet again, something gripped him by the collar of his jacket. He wildly sliced behind himself only to have the knife swatted out of his hand as easy as he breathed. It was impossible to suppress his grunt of pain as he was wrenched around to face them.

At least this dude wasn't blue. At the same time, the teen gaped at his pointed ears and how he hovered off the ground with fluffy wings on his ankles?! The green nose plug was kinda hype. Admittedly, Fikru preferred it not be attached to the currently flared nostrils of whoever this was. The green shorts combined with the gold, pearl and vibranium jewelry certainly was a look.

"Where are your leaders?!" the elf eared one rumbled as he grasped the boy's shoulder hard enough for him to cry out, "Bring them to me!"

Fikru blinked back tears as his grandmother behind him hurled out curses. "Take your rotten hands off him!"

Namor whirled, grip still digging into Fikru's shoulder. "Who is he to you?" he sneered.

"My grandson, you bhentse emfene [baboon c*nt]!" Tizita spat, "He's a child!"

Namor's incensed gaze raced up and down Fikru as the boy averted his eyes. "He's as tall as a man-"

"He has barely 14 years to him!" she retorted as she vainly tried to kick off the Talokanil who now held her arms behind where she'd been dragged back to her feet.

Finally remembering what this terrying man initially demanded of him, Fikru shakily held up his wrist with his kimoyo beads. “It…it would be faster if I called the tribal e-elder on my b-beads,” he stammered, voice cracking.

Tizita swallowed down her fear, even as she steeled her voice to sound annoyed. “It is best if you leave and go fetch them, Fikru,” she insisted.

Namor looked between her and the shaking child. He immediately realized her attempt to get her kin as far away from him as possible. He didn’t blame her. For family held as much value with his own people as it apparently did here.

After tense moments of staring down Tizita, Namor unhanded him. “Stay,” he ordered the boy, gesturing at him with the tip of his spear. He then rapidly told the Talokanil holding Tizita to let her go in his own language. Shoving away from her captor, she drew herself to her full height.

The child did as told, going utterly still while Namor approached his grandmother. The God King purposely stood with his back to the boy as he leaned forward to speak into the old woman’s ear. He had to admire how she met his eyes with her own incensed expression.

“You speak for these people?” he hissed.

Tizita crossed her arms and backed away from him. Jerking around, she took in the crowd of fishermen surrounded by the Talokanil at their spearpoints. A massively built, big blue man with a a hammerhead shark skull headdress had the man in front of him on his knees with his scythe pointed at his neck. Her other countrymen stood in a small circle. Some shivered while others furiously cut their eyes at the blue people. A woman with the headdress that looked to made out of huge lionfish fins marched up to Namor to stand by Tizita’s side.

Taking in the fishermen, Tizita turned back to Namor and retorted, “I am not a village elder. But since I appear the oldest among my fellow fishermen, yes, I will speak for them. Who are you?!”

"Namor to your kind," he derisively retorted.

The lionfish woman exchanged what appeared to be harsh words with this Namor character before she placed a hand on Tizita’s upper arm.The older woman ducked out of her grasp while slapping her away.

“Keep your wet hand yourself,” Tizita's eyes blazed with wrath. “Do not touch me again, for you are as invasive as that ugly, silly little fish you wear upon your head.”

Even though Namora couldn’t understand the English, she glared at Tizita and hauled up the tip of her spear at her chest. The fisherwoman held her gaze without so much as stepping away.

Namor’s chuckle echoed around them. He swiftly decided not to translate what the Wakandan said, instead ordering Namora to keep her distance. The lionfish woman huffed but quickly backed away as Namor once again focused his attention on Tizita. His mouth at her ear, he frowned for a quick moment.

“Because I am merciful, I will allow your grandson to leave and head back to his home.” Anyone else would’ve missed her small huff of relief. “Call your elders on your bracelet,” he pointed at her kimoyo beads, “Inform them that Namor is here to see Princess Shuri.”

“Let Fikru return home first. Completely unharmed and alive,” she tightened her arms across her chest as her eyes met his.

Namor’s smile was sharp and cold. “Of course.” He gestured for Namora to bring the boy forward. Fikru’s feet barely touched the ground as he was dragged in front of his grandmother.

Tizita pulled him into a hard hug before lightly slapping him on the back of the head. “You should have run when I told you,” she held his face in her hands, "For once, boy, learn to heed my instructions!”

Fikru silently nodded, eyes wide with terror.

Pressing a kiss to his forehead and affectionately sinking her fingers into his fro to rub at his scalp for a long moment, Fikru shoved him in the opposite direction of Namor. “Return home and rouse the elders. They will be made aware of this situation before you arrive,” she lifted her wrist to shake her kimoyo beads at him.

“But umakhulu!”

“Go, now!” she harshly ordered. “Remember, ndiyakuthanda-”

“What did you tell him?” Namor growled as he snatched her by the wrist.

Tizita winced at the pressure on her bones before she scowled at him. “I said that I love him,” she grit her teeth.

“How do I know you’re not lying?” Namor hissed.

Tizita pressed a bead before she repeated, “Ndiyakuthanda.” The disembodied voice of the AI translator said, I love you as Tizita rolled her eyes.

Namor stared her down for a long moment before he barked out for Fikru to leave. The boy disappeared into bush as fast as his coltish legs could carry him while Namor stepped away from his grandmother.

“Now,” he pounded his spear against the riverbank. “Call your elders and relay message. Also?” his grin twisted his handsome face with predatory aplomb, “Let them know that for every hour that the Princess does not come, we will drown one of your people,” he waved at the fishermen behind him.

Despite her glare, Tizita nodded and made the call. The holographic image of Nakia popped up, facing the fisherwoman. Before Nakia could speak, Tizita cut her off.

“Nakia, daughter of Ntando, I am requesting your presence here at the port on at the Piranha Cove-”

Nakia arched a dubious brow. “Tizita, how are you?” she greeted in Xhosa, “Why do you speak in English?”

Tizita clucked her tongue in annoyance. “I’m afraid there has been an infiltration. There is…a winged man here who calls himself Namor. He has arrived with people of enhanced strength who are colored blue. They came out of the depths of the river. None of the sensors proved able to track them.” Tizita looked through the holographic image to Namor preening at her words.

The sheer nerve of this f*cking rabid blowfish.

Nakia’s eyes went wide at mention of his name. However, she maintained eye contact with the other woman despite how out of frame of the hologram, she engaged an SOS message on her kimoyo beads that would send the country into virtual lockdown. She then immediately hailed Shuri and the Dora Milaje.

“He’s taken 13 of us fishermen hostage and has promised to drown one of us for every hour that Princess Shuri doesn’t meet him here. I’ve sent our coordinates to you. For now, until he kills me,” she snorted in Namor’s direction, “I am the spokesperson for us hostages.”

Nakia’s heart pounded in her ears. How in Bast did Shuri’s captor get past their sensors?! Surely they’d been upgraded since he first made contact with the Queen and Princess on the riverbank what seemed a lifetime ago?

Taking a few deep breaths, she steadied herself. Confirming if there were any casualties, she ordered Tizita to turn her image so that she could address the fish man.

What met her was the menacing image of Namor casually leaning on his spear and greeting her with a smirk. Next to him was a smaller but fierce faced woman wearing a headdress of fish fins. Holding her spear at attention, she was as blue as the guard Nakia took down when she rescued Shuri.

Beyond her was a hulking man of blue who wore the headdress of what looked to be a hammerhead shark skull. He also held his staff at attention while his other hand gripped the shoulder of one of the fishermen who remained on his knees with his head bowed. Nakia could see the poor fellow shivered with fear.

Both the blue man and woman wore the odd masks on their faces Nakia vaguely recalled Shuri describing as their rebreathers. It kept their throats from drying out on land while the apparatuses on their necks covered their gills to ensure they didn’t suffocate on the surface. Filing away that strategic information for later, Nakia turned her attention to Namor. She didn’t know if he had any idea that she was the one who breached his kingdom to bring her countrymen home. He didn’t appear particularly furious with her. She still cautiously continued.

“Namor-”

“Aj K’uk’ulkan!” the fish headdress woman demanded, angrilly pounding the bottom of her spear into the ground. Namor raised a casual hand and she fell silent despite her glare at Nakia.

“Aj K’uk’ulkan,” Nakia bowed her head and corrected herself, “I have hailed Princess Shuri to meet you. She should be at your coordinates shortly.”

Namor’s grin merciless, his eyes burned with fevered glee. “Nakia, daughter of Ntando, it seems Wakanda’s subjects care very much for each other considering how easily you acquiesced to my demands. One would think your nation would not negotiate so swiftly with invaders.”

Nakia narrowed her eyes despite her steadily calm reply. “I understand you have been in negotiations with Princess Shuri-”

“You understand nothing!” Namor sneered. “Your nation stole her from her from me despite how we granted her the highest guest rights. One of you murdered a sacred bodyguard and nearly did the same to one of my innocent handmaidens. Consider yourself extremely fortunate that I hold your princess in such high esteem. Otherwise, I would have swam upriver, dragged her out of your pathetic palace and killed her myself in front of her citizens in retribution. All while drowning these wretched surface dwellers currently in my custody!”

Well, if he truly wanted Shuri dead, he could have done so, Nakia’s mind furiously reeled. At the same time, have I lured the Princess to her death?! She prayed Shuri would be able to talk down this zealot.

Nakia’s beads chimed up with Shuri’s signature. She shot off a text back to the Princess confirming her earlier message. Waving it up so that Namor could see it, she serenely declared, “Princess Shuri has received your message, Aj K’uk’ulkan. ” She didn’t think he could read the Xhosa but wanted to give the fuming fish man a sign of good faith. “She assures me she will be her as quickly as she is able.”

“Her arrival time is of no concern to me,” Namor bristled. “Whether not she cares for her citizens being sent to their painful, watery graves will be on her conscience.”

Nakia bit back a sneer at his audacity. “I may only assure you that she is on her way to greet you.”

And hopefully be rid of you, she mentally seethed.

Glad that she’d sent out the highest level of SOS signal, Nakia’s kimoyo beads lit up with various emergency response systems from the crown. It ordered its citizens back to their homes and to shelter in place. The tribes’ militaries were mustering. Electronic lockdown blocked all outside signals while still allowing the Wakandans to continue communicating with each other. Most of the satellite overwatch switched the chief War Dog outside of the country to ensure enemies would not compromise it.

Namor's mouth curled with derision as he used his wings to menacingly hover over the hostages.

“Heed my warning; if the Princess is not here within the hour, I will sacrifice the first of your fishermen to Chaac. Otherwise, you’ve served your purpose, Nakia, daughter of Ntando,” his dark eyes seethed. “I have no more desire to speak with you,” he waved in dismissal at her image. “Turn it off,” he commanded Tizita.

Before Nakia could respond, communication was cut.

She scrambled around her home to locate the armor she used to infiltrate Talokan the first time. At least it was waterproof and stored with her sonic weapons. Rapidly changing into it, she fled out the back door to join the flurry of River Tribe soldiers already packing themselves into transports to head to the river while another contingent already left for the palace.

One hoped Bast would guide Shuri’s hand in the best way to deal with this unhinged god of the deep.

Okoye was used to being on planes. Especially the masterfully advanced, supersonic ones of Wakanda. At the same time, flying in a suit without the protection of a ship surrounding her for such a long period of time proved an entirely new experience. She and Aneka did over a dozen test runs over the nearly two weeks of attempting to perfect the suits. That didn’t take away from the thrill of the air whistling around her as she zoomed to the port at Piranha Cove from Shuri’s lab.

Aneka’s yell of excitement filled her ears. “Our first mission, general!” the younger woman crowed.

“Calm yourself,” Okoye scolded over comm system built into the suit. “These water people are not to be trifled with. You have no idea of their capabilities. Focus!”

“Yes, general,” Aneka quietly replied.

Okoye nodded despite the other Angel unable to see it. “Good. Prepare yourself.”

Shuri’s voice from the cloaked Royal Talon fighter soaring ahead of them interrupted. “My sensors cannot pick up exactly how many Talokanil are in the river. I suspect it’s due to cloaking provided in their vibranium armor and weapons.”

“Do we have a visual yet?” Aneka asked.

“45 seconds,” Shuri replied.

“30 and counting,” Ayo’s voice could be heard from the fighter soon after.

Okoye closed her eyes for quick moment to center herself. This would be her first engagement since being stripped out of the Dora Milaje. She’d once again face her enemies who took so much from her.

“We will drop to the river bank as soon as you decloak, Shuri,” she declared. “Do not be offended, Ayo; our suits are capable of water combat so we are requesting permission to accompany the princess to meet with Namor?”

“Granted,” Ayo replied without hesitation. “Like us, you have sworn to protect the Princess. Whatever strategy you see as fit, we shall follow.”

Okoye couldn’t help her grin even as she swiftly replied, “You are a general as well, Ayo. Your guidance and collaboration on this precarious matter is greatly appreciated.”

Ayo’s quiet chuckle met her. “Agreed, general.”

Okoye still flinched at the title. No matter that it was technically true since she now led the Midnight Angels.

Decloaking now, GRIOT rang out over everyone’s comms. Visuals on the port, it continued, There are a total of nine hostiles, including the signature of Namor. His genetic markers are different from the other Talokanil.

Okoye didn’t have time to focus on how Shuri managed to program Namor’s profile into the AI. Let alone acquire a sample of his DNA to fully do so.

The fighter decloaked directly above the port. Despite its silence, Namor jerked his head upwards, eyes narrowing as it hovered. Reeling off an order to kill a hostage should he be attacked, he hurled himself into the air with an aggressive flutter of his wings.

Hostile incoming, GRIOT shot off. It was too late as Namor flew outside the front window of the fighter. The God King moved far too recklessly to be initially tracked by the AI.

Namor peered at Shuri through the thick, vibranium glass of the jet. Fiery eyes taking her in along with the troop of Dora Milaje crouched with their spears pointed at him, he smiled as he straightened himself to hover but a few inches from the craft.

“Princess,” he mockingly declared with a magnanimous wave of his hand, “I see you have received my summons?”

Shuri narrowed her eyes. “As though you left me with any other choice-”

“It is you and your mendacious mother who left me with no choice after her actions left one of my sacred guards murdered!” he accusingly pointed.

“Shuri, we have arrived,” Okoye’s voice rang out in her ear piece. “We are hidden in the wet bush of the bank, within striking distance. The River Tribe troops will be here shortly.”

“Hold,” Shuri whispered in Xhosa. Looking to Namor, she lifted her chin and demurely folded her hands in front of herself. “May we discuss this with you before it descends into violence, Aj K’uk’ulkan?”

His face twisted with disdain. “You dare use my title when you are my enemy?”

“I would hope that we have not fallen so low in your estimation. What title of honor would you prefer, my lord?” she slightly bowed her head.

Namor paused. Clearly, he expected aggression as his gaze swept over Shuri.

Her lithe form was even more obvious clad in a dark purple, vibranium infused bodysuit with swirling gold accents that covered her from neck to foot. Wrapped around her waist lay a gold and black patterned cloth. Her neck guard of multicolored strands of vibranium appeared in the pattern of a knotted ankara style necklace. Springy, dark curls outlined her calm visage. Well, save for how her eyes locked with his.

They burned with warning. The same flame he witnessed when he proposed tearing the surface world asunder together. For one so young, she stood as strong as the deadly depths of the deepest sea trenches.

He couldn't deny she looked magnificent surrounded by her royal guard and upon a technological feat of a vehicle she designed. If only she could see his way of things. Could she not understand he wished to extend his protection of her nation to her as well so they could finally destroy the colonizers who wished to bring her to heel?

He granted her a pointed grin as he ordered, "I will speak to the Queen."

Shuri arched a brow. "Only if you swear to diplomacy and to not take any lives."

"You are in no position to demand anything of me, princess," he pointed his spear at her. Behind her, Ayo advanced forward until Shuri held out a hand to her side to stop her.

"I thought you wished an alliance?" Shuri shrugged, "Does such not require negotiation in good faith by both you and me?"

For a second time, she left him temporarily speechless. Wings fluttering, he pulled his spearpoint back towards himself. "I will speak to the Queen. If I am not back by sundown, my people will drown one of your people. And one for every hour thereafter that passes."

"You will be returned far before then, I assure you," Shuri flatly retorted. "As a sign of my promise that you will be unharmed, give me a moment to disembark and take you directly to the palace."

"It is agreed," Namor smirked.

Turning her back, Shuri let out a ragged sigh and struggled to not collapse due to the anxiety tearing at her gut. Ayo discreetly put a hand to her forearm, out of sight of Namor outside of the ship.

"I have sent a comm to the palace to prepare for the arrival of a hostile-"

"Sonic weapons," Shuri whispered, wiping at her sweaty brow. "Tell them to gather all the sonic weapons they can," she continued at at Ayo's confused look. "I don't know about Namor but they can certainly kill the others of his kind. I found that out the hard way upon my rescue."

Ayo spoke into her beads to relay the message to the Dora and all guards at the palace. She sent the same communique to all guards of the tribes mustering due to Nakia's countrywide SOS while she glanced at the window. Namor was no longer in view. At the same time, Shuri told Okoye and Aneka to prepare for her descent from the Talon Fighter through its tractor beam. Four other Dora would accompany her.

Okoye waited until Shuri safely landed on the riverbank before she and Aneka revealed themselves from the bush in front of the Talokanil and their hostages. Namora and Attuma didn’t appear startled at their presence as they flanked the Dora Milaje surrounding Shuri. By now, the River Tribe troops of guards arrived behind them and lined up at the rear of the royal party.

Namor softly landed directly in front of the Princess. The two leaders began their exchange. While neither of them raised their voices, the danger of everything sliding out of control hung in the air like a poisonous cloud.

Okoye didn't even realize she'd growled in Attuma's direction until Aneka came over her comms with a concerned voice.

"By Bast, he's quite the big, blue f*cker, isn't he?"

"Ewe! [Yes!] " Okoye snapped before she even realized what she said. Only they could hear each other within their suits due to the comms’ current settings.

Aneka's low whistle caused her to bristle until the other Midnight Angel replied, "Again, I commend you, general, for surviving without a trip to the hospital or losing a limb. His weapon alone looks like it could take someone's head off with one easy swing. Glory to Bast for bringing you back to us."

Okoye softened. "Many thanks, Aneka."

"It is nothing, usisi." She would've reached out to take Okoye's hand in comfort if not for being on high alert during this mission.

Okoye watched with annoyed eyes as Namor climbed into one of the River Tribe's personnel transports next to Shuri. Apparently, they decided on a temporary truce and an audience with the Queen. Okoye clucked her tongue in disagreement. Namor’s show of violence forced Wakanda’s hand as far as she was concerned. M’Baku once again proved astonishingly wise; what was to stop the pompous water elf from more and increasingly unhinged demands now?

To their side, Attuma and Namora did the same as they climbed into a second transport. The lionfish looked disgusted with even touching Wakanda tech, brows furrowed. She cautiously tapped her spearpoint to the dashboard in front of her before gingerly touching a finger to the seat and sitting down. Next to her, Attuma darted away from the dashboard as GRIOT instructed him to sit as well.

We will be at the palace shortly, the Al called out in Yucatec Mayan.

Their devices are filled with spirits?! Namora exclaimed as she jumped from her seat.

She raised her spear to stab clean through the interface in front of her before the AI warned her that breaking the transport would result in them having to use a new one. Namora curled her lip with derision even as she slowly retreated in annoyance.

A curse or a blessing? Attuma snorted as he clutched his scythe closer to himself, It is unknown.

Shuri turned to the two as she finished programming in coordinates to the palace in the transport she now shared with Namor and the Dora Milaje guards accompanying her. "Remain seated," she assured them, her beads translating, "And you won't be thrown from the transport."

Namor turned in their direction, speaking so swiftly that none of the Wakandans' translators could pick it up. Whatever he said, it appeared to put the Talokanil generals at ease.

Just before the transports lifted off, Attuma turned to stare directly at Okoye.

She froze. How he could possibly know who she was since the mask of her suit covered her face? Yet he his eyes bore into the mask’s until he slightly lifted his chin in acknowledgment. She jerked her head out of his line of sight as the two transporters rose above the tree line and zipped towards the palace. She and Aneka flew behind each of them.

If she didn’t focus on the crisis at hand, Shuri could end up dead this time. And she certainly refused to let that occur at the hands of this demented water elf and his fishy little compatriots.

Chapter 5

Chapter Text

Compared to his countrymen, Attuma spent close to the most time on the surface. All due to his position that put him in place for missions to wipe out those endangering his homeland. Outside of K’uk’ulkan, only he, the other generals and the most elite of their soldiers ventured above the waves. The rest of their citizens deserved to live their lives in peace, protected from the evils of the surface world.

Nonetheless, it was clear these Wakandans proved far more advanced than their human ilk. Attuma couldn’t deny the impressive size of the cavernous throne room. Its floor muffled his footsteps, comprised of richly carved, ebony and deep brown stone polished to a high shine.

Dozens of armed and armored courtiers from each of Wakanda’s tribes mustered within the grand space. He observed how they didn’t carry what surface warriors called “guns.” These people’s weapons were bladed in one way or another. Many of them glowed blue. Their low, steady thrum barely detectable to surface dweller’s weaker ears, Attuma narrowed his eyes at their odd energy signature.

Should it come to pass, he’d be fighting the unfamiliar. The corner of his mouth curled with anticipation at the potential for testing out his capabilities against these new sorts of armaments. Well, at least the battle wouldn’t bore him. Not if it was anything like his heady fight against her.

The Wakandans stood deeply packed in semicircle surrounding the seated tribal council and behind where Attuma and Namora flanked K’uk’ulkan. Their God King facing the Queen, Attuma couldn’t believe these people allowed his spear to remain in hand. Either they were lofty fools or far more scheming that he could even begin to imagine.

At the head of it all, their queen held her audience at rapt attention. She sat on the throne as though she was born to it. Clad in resplendent silks and luxurious fabrics, they were of the same level of craftsmanship as the livery of his people. Geometric patterns of gold were woven into the blood red swirl of her skirts. The gown’s fully beaded black bodice lay inlaid with the same precious metal of Talokan. Its stiffness gave away how it also served as armor. That it covered her from neck to wrist made it obvious.

According to his king, they called the sacred metal vibranium. They were obviously gifted in their manipulation of it. Attuma had never seen such of any other surface civilization.

The queen wore golden cuffs from wrist to forearm. The empty spaces of them were wired into the shape of a panther head with yellow diamonds forming the eyes. Her black isicholo cap bore three black vibranium stones encased in gold down its front. Hanging from her ears were golden hoops inlaid with raw cut rubies.

Attuma couldn’t deny her grandeur. Her ageless beauty only added to her command of the room.

The spirit that spoke to them through the flying transport appeared a part of everything in the palace as it translated the Wakandans’ words between themselves and K’uk’ulkan. The Queen’s expression as unyielding as his king’s, her tone brokered no room for anything but strength and promises of violence. The Princess clearly inherited her mother’s tenacity as she repudiated K’uk’ulkan for his invasion.

Attuma couldn’t understand why anyone was surprised; they stole her from Talokan after she volunteered to be received as a guest. Of course consequences would follow for their dishonorable methods of taking her. K’uk’ulkan was only hours from freeing them after all.

The general found this prattling wearisome. His mission complete in taking hostages, he wished to return home. Only the tantalizing scent of the warrior held his interest at the moment. She stood opposite the room in front of him, flanking the princess with another one in that matching blue and gold armor to hers.

Scenting held a strong tradition among his people due to everyone’s enhancements gifted to them by the herb of their ancestors that brought them to dwell in the ocean. Every person smelled different, be they surface dweller or Talokanil. Hence the warrior was easy to identity among all the others. No matter her choice of that peculiar armor with its face covering.

While her scent proved stronger under the waves due to the damp of the caves and vicinity to water, it still tickled his nose up here in the air. A heady blend of fiery, woodsy spice underlaid with hints of sweet flowers and sugar cane.

It made it rather difficult to recall how he wished to end her life upon her own spear in repayment for abandoning his kingdom by means of murder. Could he still drive its point through her heart? Even as he yearned to know if she tasted as luscious as she smelled between those firm thighs of hers? Once he got a hand gripped on her neck, would he haul her in for the kill? Or finally grant his lips a carnal feast upon the tantalizing skin of her throat?

Would her heady cries beg for release as his hands and mouth brought her to the precipice over and over again? Or perhaps she’d ride his co*ck to ruin as he writhed under her. How long would he plead for her commands on how best to satiate her?

The words of political games continued to drone in Attuma's ears as K’uk’ulkan charged their queen with his ultimatum of an alliance. He and the Princess bickered as well.

Honestly? Their snappiness and heated sideways glances at each other looked more akin to a lover's spat than true enemies seeking to kill each other.Attuma could care less about their relationship. So long as Talokan remained safe. He couldn't say same for Namora, judging by her deepening scowl and how she fingered the grooves of the staff of her harpoon.

Every so often, one of the aged councilmembers opened their mouths to offer little substance. Though the Queen spoke only when necessary, her words wary and giving nothing away. She sat in almost meditative stillness, only her gaze incensed.

“You will join us against the surface world,” Namor shrugged with irritating nonchalance from where he stood directly in front of the throne, “Or I will wash Wakanda from the face of the earth.”

Ramonda’s smile was as sharp as the spear she used to carry when she was a Dora Milaje before she married King T’Chaka. Resting her hands on her lap, she arched a brow as she snorted, “You will find that diplomacy doesn’t work quite like this on the surface world you despise so much. Nevertheless you seek alliance with your enemy? Clearly we are the only ones who bother entertain your notions.”

Namor’s dark chuckle did nothing but cause the Queen to imagine his head being brought to her in a beautifully carved box. “Mutually assured destruction if you don’t agree should be reason enough.”

"I thought you had more soldiers than blades of grass?" she slightly tilted her head to the side.

Namor's grin appeared more akin to baring his teeth. "I do. But why waste all of mine against the colonizers when we both despise them? Your warriors may fight alongside mine to limit both our losses."

"More like halving your losses while using my people as death fodder," Ramonda flatly retorted.

"I am insulted at your accusation that I would ever purposely murder one of your citizens in service to mine," he pointedly said. “Who would ever do such a thing?”

Ramonda exchanged an exasperated look with Shuri while M’Baku let out a snicker. Namor eyed the Jabari leader. “You find this amusing, furry man?” he hummed despite the threat in his gaze.

“It is gorilla man, fish man,” M’Baku dismissively waved, “Glory to Hanuman.” A look of confusion flashed across Namor’s face as M’Baku continued, “The protector god of my tribe, our gorilla benefactor. So yes, fish man, we worship the gods of our ancestors too. Similar to your people’s offerings to Chaac, Itzamná, Ix Chel, among many others. There is also yourself, Aj K’uk’ulkan.”

Namor slowly blinked at the furry man’s perfect pronunciation of his royal title. The fire in his blood slightly retreated as he took in the Jabari. “You are familiar with my people’s ancestors?”

“I can read,” M’Baku shrugged. At the ripples of laughter in the room, he turned to the Tribal Council and rolled his eyes. “What, do you think we don't have books in the mountains?"

The Merchant Tribe representative muttered about the mountain folks' alleged literacy rate until M'Baku hooted at her. She cleared her throat before immediately falling silent.

Attuma distantly contemplated putting such a noise to use to quell his own recruits in the ranks whenever they got a little too out of line.

"As soon as he made himself known to the Queen and Princess, I began research," M'Baku smugly said. "Her report of his origins upon her return to us only confirmed his pre-colonizer, Mesoamerican traditions.”

The mutterings among the Tribal Council caused him to take a large bite of his cucumber and chew for a long moment. M’Baku’s chuckle echoed before he wiped a hand down his face.“Do any of you bother to prepare for meetings before you arrive?” he sarcastically asked.

Attuma found himself having to hold back his own chortle at the furry man’s boldness. He couldn’t deny being impressed by his knowledge of them. Perhaps not all surface dwellers preferred being so pathetically uneducated. The sheer amounts of technology he’d witnessed in this nation spoke of a people different from any he’d seen in his missions.

“We will need an act of good faith,” Shuri spoke up. “Release the hostages at the riverfront and we will discuss terms of the alliance on equal footing.”

Namor was about to reject that notion until he glanced over to his generals. Attuma appeared bored, as per usual. Namora continued bristling with threat. He turned to take in the Dora Milaje standing above them before his eyes settled once more on the Queen.

He despised her deception. Perhaps he could use it against her. Looking to Shuri, her young age was even more evident in the presence of this cavernous throne room and among the elders.

He pointed his spear at her. “Only if I negotiate with you, Princess.”

Shuri rolled her shoulders before bracing herself in her seat. Despite her heart pounding in her ears, she forced her words to sound calm. “The Queen must ratify whatever we agree on. Only after the Tribal Council votes to support it as well. Hostages will do nothing to earn anyone’s regard. Send them home to their families. They are of little concern when we all know your strength.”

Namor purposely waited a few tense minutes before he granted her a barely perceptible nod of his head. “I will release them.”

Shuri glanced out of the window and stood. It was nearly noon. “I will bring you back to the riverfront so that your soldiers will see you and do as you agreed.”

“Not until we create the main terms of this alliance,” Namor tilted his head in defiance.

Ramonda narrowed her eyes. “I give you one hour before you are taken back to the riverfront to do as you’ve promised. Only then may you return for further discussion upon my subjects being safely released. Trust comes from both sides."

“Granted,” Namor retorted, gaze remaining on Shuri. “Now,” he thinly smiled, “On these terms of a binding alliance between our two glorious nations…"

Attuma once again tuned out the dry political talk once it became clear these Wakandans would likely not move to threaten his king. At least for now. He slightly turned his head to take in Okoye. For she’d retracted the helmet of that ridiculous looking armor to reveal her entire face.

Even from so far across the room from in front of him where she stood behind the Princess, her glowing beauty was even more evident here on the surface. Mostly due to the bright, late-morning sunlight pouring the windows.

He swiftly realized he'd never seen her in the full light.

As much as he adored his king, the sun under the waves was a pale imitation to the real one. Though it’d vastly improved due to the Princess' and Little Scientist’s work to repair it. These surface dwellers were turning out to be far more complicated than he assumed in all of his years. Not quite so useless.

The sun’s rays cast the warrior’s skin a golden, deep umber. Around her big, bright eyes the color of warm earth, she’d rimmed them in glittering bronze. Her full lips were painted a comely, dark red. No doubt like the blood she’d spilled at the end of her spear. Soft, golden color highlighted her cheekbones, nose and forehead. Her paint of war, Attuma mused. In no way frivolous, it lent her the air of one not to be trifled with and as he discovered in their first encounter.

The sudden rising of increasingly vexed voices yanked his wandering thoughts back to the political squabbling. The Princess appeared inexplicably appalled while K’uk’ulkan’s affronted look lay only a few seconds from slipping to frustration.

“Considering you don’t wish war,” Namor sniffed, “My proposal of marriage guarantees an alliance forever binding our kingdoms as one.”

Namora recoiled, pushing an elbow into Attuma’s ribs to get his attention. He looked down at her with an incredulous shake of his head. K’uk’ulkan taking a spouse? A surface dweller?! Surely an omen. Whether one of prosperous fate or doom, the shark could not say. Not yet, at least.

Shuri’s hands gripped the arms of her seat next to where she sat to the right of the Queen. “That is not an alliance. It’s dooming one of our potential subjects to a lifetime of unhappiness! Besides, who here would marry you?”

“To speak the truth, only you or your mother prove my equal here,” Namor curled his tongue around a sharp canine tooth.

Ramonda snapped her arm out towards her daughter to keep her from flying out of her seat in all her ire. “As much as I enjoy a well-timed jest,” she icily replied, raised voice also silencing the audiences' jeers at Namor’s audacious proposition, “That will not nor will ever be acceptable.”

Namor’s chortle appeared to amuse only him. With a magnanimous wave of his hand, he wanly replied, “Then perhaps a nuptial joining of one of your sacred nobility to ours could find us bound in a more benevolent fashion?”

Ramonda’s tittering laugh rang out for a long, unnerving moment. “You truly imagine that anyone of my court would be so foolish to take up what you offer?” she dropped her hand to her chest. “See here, that,” she let out a deep exhale as she gathered herself, “That right there?” she flapped a hand at him, “A remarkable joke indeed!”

The tribal council broke out into their typical blathering. Okoye peeked back and forth between Namor’s heaving shoulders, his grip on his spear flexing as Ramonda leaned over to listen to whatever likely absurd mechanizations the River Tribesman whispered in her ear.

Okoye’s chest tightened, the increasingly familiar sensation of dread clawing at her from all sides.

Rebuked at seemingly every turn. Blamed for her ex-husband’s traitorous actions by too many of her own tribe. Insulted for doing her duty in remaining loyal to the throne during Killmonger's madness. Accused for losing the Princess despite Shuri's unyielding defense of her. Stripped of her life-long duties.

The armor she wore felt smothering despite Shuri's attempts to remedy its flaws. It certainly wouldn’t fix her own failings. What was left for her in her homeland? Nothing but the ash of charred hopes and delusions of reclaiming her position among those who so easily cast her aside.

She wiped at her eyes, uncaring of who saw her latest humiliation. Taking a few ragged breathes, she utterly refused to look at Aneka's concerned glance to her as she shuffled forward.

“I will do it,” she called out. Yet no one appeared to hear her. Funny how that wasn't new as of late. She contemplated pounding her spear to the floor as her voice rose over the din. “Hear me now,” Okoye loudly declared, “I will marry one of their nobles to secure the treaty.”

Aneka snatched her by the arm. “Have you lost your f*cking mind?!” she hissed in Xhosa.

Ignoring her, Okoye prayed to Bast her words sounded sane. For her thoughts scrambled into a chasm of aching despair. Flinging herself into this partnership could amount to her death sentence at the hands of her enemy.

“I…offer myself for the alliance."

Attuma’s head whipped around, dark eyes widening at the same time Namora exclaimed in utter disbelief, “By Chaac and his burning ax, what?!” She too spun on Okoye with a raised hand of exasperation. “Do not toy with us, warrior!” she warned.

“Do not presume to accuse me of anything so preposterous,” Okoye sneered, squaring her shoulders. “I did not stutter. Or perhaps your ears fail you outside of your usual watery pits?”

Namora snarled, feet already sliding against the floor to boost her speed for the brewing confrontation.

“Ma' cha'ik u poole' a ira xma' jaajil ti', paal áanteni” [Do not allow them to take your anger without reason, child of mine],” Namor archly clucked his tongue at her. Namora’s shoulders heaved even as she slightly backed up. She missed how her God King cut an enigmatic look at Attuma’s heated stare raking over the Wakandan warrior in blue. “Ko'oten, Namora [Come, Namora]," Namor insisted with poised curiosity, “K ilej ba'ax yaan ti' le t'aano'obo' le ko'olelo [Let us see what lies in this woman's words]."

Ramonda swiveled in her seat towards Okoye. The former Dora never witnessed her queen’s face so awash with her emotions within the confines of this room. The burden of rule never allowed for such truths. However, Ramonda’s expression rapidly glided back to stony as she sucked at her teeth.

"You speak out of turn, Midnight Angel," the Queen balked, "These are diplomatic matters of discussion for the Golden Tribe."

Only years of grueling training allowed Okoye to take in how Ramonda's back went stiff. Her eyes glimmering with disbelief, she slightly raised her hand from the throne's armrest to flit her fingers in disapproval.

Do not, she seemed to silently warn, Do not sacrifice yourself in matters beyond your control.

Okoye no longer cared for protocol. It'd gotten her sh*t all for years now. "This alliance must be executed with as little blood spilled as possible," she muttered.

Ramonda raised a vehement finger of warning. "You are in no position to-"

"I shall serve my country to see it saved, ikumkani wam [my queen]," Okoye pressed forward. Ignoring Shuri's panicked expression and the room's rising nattering, she looked to Namor. "I will marry into your kingdom," she breathed.

"Ba'ax ma' k láaj kíinso'on, k utia'al Mantats," Attuma abruptly took a heavy step forward. GRIOT relayed that it could not quite translate the general’s words due to its literal meaning likely being an idiom. A pound of his fist to his chest at Namor, Attuma repeated his words, adding, “By right, you know it to be true, my feathered serpent king.”

The River tribesman snorted, “By Mami Wata’s combs, what do you say?" Straightening out the collar of his turquoise patterned suit, he ordered, “Speak plainly, shark. My people’s lives depend on it."

Namor’s smirk brightened into a prickly smile as he looked to Okoye. The Midnight Angel leveled an incensed gaze back at him, unblinking. It only caused a brief chuckle to escape from between his brilliantly white teeth before he cavalierly shifted his spear into his other hand.

“It is a sacred proverb,” he reverently stated.

The River tribesman shrugged, “We have many of our own.”

“We find ourselves more similar with each passing declaration,” Namor simpered. “To make it simple to you, prowess in battle is held sacrosanct. We rarely, if ever, taste the bitter tang of defeat,” he pointedly turned to Ramonda. “Yet your ix ba'ate'el[warrior], who offers herself to us, drew first blood from one of my most skilled generals. It proved impossible for him to do the same to her. Thus, he bears her scar upon his cheek in hallowed memory,” Namor pointed the tip of his spear at Okoye.

Aneka let out an impressed, low whistle. Okoye sucked her teeth back at her, jerking her head in disagreement.

Namor proudly lifted his head. “Blood is sacred to us. It is our chu ‘lel, our life force. It feeds the gods. It gives life, it takes it away. And so her bloodletting of General Attuma demonstrated her supremacy in the taking of life. Therefore, our proverb loosely translates to, ‘What we do not kill, we keep.’”

“It is then by our customs,” Attuma rumbled, “That I have first right to your general in marriage.”

Everyone in the throne room seemed to bristle. Whispers rose to outright question among the courtiers while the Tribal Council exchanged doubtful looks between Attuma and Okoye.

Ramonda waved Attuma away, voice rising above the increasing din, “We are not in your court-”

“Then why do we not just kill your river folk if we are not here to negotiate, your grace?” he tossed out. Ramonda scowled at him as he twisted the staff of his scythe back and forth against his fingers. “I am but a simple soldier. I do not politic," Attuma insisted, "But I must question that if we are to come to the necessary agreements, does that not mean Talokan’s customs must be included in this discussion?”

Shuri’s face darkened with warning. “So long as your customs don’t endanger the life, limb or mind of our subjects? Yes.”

Attuma growled, “I would never knowingly cause any harm to my spouse.”

"That depends on your definition of harm," Shuri insisted.

“Even if it goes against your King’s wishes?” Ramonda shot back.

“When we join in marriage, we become each other’s souls,” Attuma resolutely replied. “She will be mine. It will be my duty to protect her, just as K’uk’ulkan protects us all. Since she will be his subject on account of her binding to me, he will never demand harm to her.”

Shuri shifted at the feel of Namor’s eyes on her. Her gaze widened as the King gave her a barely discernable nod of agreement. Brief, it still occurred.

Okoye’s choked cough caused the room to spin its attention to her. She squeezed her eyes shut as she whispered, “Forgive me…something caught in my throat. Proceed.” She ignored how Attuma’s obsidian gaze bore into hers. She tore herself away from it to stare out the window behind him. Anything to quiet her warring mind.

His soul?!

“We make slaves of no one within the sacred union, warrior,” Attuma wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Spouses shelter one another from injury to reinforce feelings of affection.”

“Affection has no place in politics,” Okoye sneered.

“My spouse will not be denied it. That is dishonorable.”

“What if she doesn’t want any of it from you?”

“Then I ask what has been so cruelly done to her to think herself unworthy of it? Who will I have to kill to ensure my spouse’s welfare so that she may regain her capacity for such again?”

The bile rose in Okoye’s throat. How dare this cerulean menace expose her faults to the all the world’s ridicule?!

“If it settles the fish man’s wrath, a single marriage is but a small price to pay,” the Mining Tribe council member, Iyaloo, shrugged and rolled her eyes. Shuri ignored her mother’s look of irritation as Iyaloo dismissively waved her away and continued with a smirk, “Who are we to deny a disgraced general a chance to reinforce her loyalty to the crown that she so recently lost? This alliance would also illustrate that she is no traitor, like that ex-husband of hers.”

“You would sell out one of our citizens, our general, to an invader?” M’Baku barked.

Iyaloo shot him a grin like a cat that ate the canary. “She volunteered. Just as the Princess allegedly did when she abandoned us to go to this one’s underwater kingdom,” she disdainfully pointed at the Talokanil.

“I most certainly did not abandon zidenge ezingenamsebenzi [you useless idiots],” Shuri grit out.

Attuma’s eyes widened at mention of a husband from the translation AI. The warrior was already mated?! His heart sank, though his mind found no reason for this information to be a falsehood. Why wouldn’t her talents and exquisite beauty find her actively mated? Who would turn down an opportunity to bind themselves for life to one of such great consequence? Surely, she had to beat off the most prestigious suitors with that spear of hers he still had clipped to his belt.

Shuri’s disgusted look as she hauled herself to feet caused Iyaloo to snap her mouth closed.

“Have you finished in your slander of my general?” The Princess growled, “Or perhaps you’d like to continue to waste everyone’s time with your fetid half-truths? We grow tired of it and more important discussions are at hand,” she gestured towards the Talokanil.

Ramonda’s snort of agreement quickly followed her daughter’s words.

At least the representative had the shame to cast her eyes downward before she stated, “I only speak the truth. W’Kabi is a traitor. She was married to him, eh?”

Attuma didn’t turn his body enough for anyone else to notice. It still allowed him to take in how the warrior stood as still as stone. She stared straight ahead and beyond him, hand clutched around her new, golden spear.

Taking a few deep inhales through his rebreather, Attuma closed his eyes to concentrate on the individualized thrum of her heartbeat. Frowning at its increasingly frenzied rhythm, his gut twisted with infuriated gall at how the councilwoman spoke of the warrior’s evident past so publicly. The only good thing the old hag did was confirm that this rotten W’Kabi character’s marriage to the warrior lay at an end.

“Is what le peek'o' nojoch máaktal [the old dog] says true?” Namor asked, brows arched in alleged innocence.

As the AI translated, Shuri suddenly clapped a hand over her mouth to suppress a cackled laugh while Iyaloo stiffly sat up. An ugly sneer flew to her face before she immediately fell silent at Ramonda’s raised hand.

“Somewhat,” the Queen snapped. “She was married. Her husband betrayed his king, my son. She nearly killed him for doing so. We do not blame others for their family’s faults. Each individual exists as a result of actions they undertake by their own hands within my kingdom."

Namor mockingly bowed his head. "That seems to be first thing we may agree upon when it comes to ruling."

"However,” Ramonda continued, “She was recently stripped of her command of our elite royal bodyguard for her failure in protecting my daughter from you. So I fail to see why you are so hungry to have one of so little consequence seal this historic alliance,” she shrugged with a tone as innocuous as though they were all discussing the weather.

Attuma’s heart roared at this offense so easily doled out to the warrior. Hepounded the bottom of his scythe into the ground. Everyone startled and turned to take in how his shoulders rose as he marched forward to stand next to his king.

“You offend my battle prowess by insulting my betrothed,” the Talokanil general growled.

“She is not your fiancé!” Shuri exclaimed as she threw her hands up in exasperation.

"She confronted the mighty Attuma, Slayer of Sharks, Breaker of Oceans," he rumbled without pause, completely ignoring the Princess. "I have proven many times over the greatest wielder of my blade this side of multiple generations. Nevertheless, she let blood from me. She lived. Whole and healthy to tell the tale of how she fought me with the blessed spear, the weapon of both our ancestors."

Okoye's hard stare caused Aneka to turn her head towards her in astonishment.

"I suggest you,” Attuma pointed his scythe in Ramonda’s direction, “Guard how you affix your words within your mouth when you speak of your distinguished ix ba'ate'el [warrior], your grace.”

The room fell so utterly silent, one could hear a pin drop. Not even the Dora Milaje standing guard on their platform above pounded their spears to warn of speaking out of turn.

Namor arched a curious brow before a grin flashed across his features. Okoye’s head whipped around to take him in. Her face awash in confusion, her mouth hung open in bewilderment.

M’Baku slowly sat up straighter in his seat before he took another crunchy chomp of his cucumber. Everyone’s eyes darted to him in flabbergasted astonishment as he finally slapped his thigh.

“Clearly,” he shrugged, “The shark man speaks in poems of what may only be called truth.”

“What the f*ck?!” Aneka’s words echoed in Okoye’s comms in her suit. Okoye couldn’t’ be bothered to hide how she rolled her eyes.

Ramonda’s mouth curled with derision. “Are you serious, Jabari?”

“As serious as he so obviously is,” M’Baku waved his snack in Attuma’s direction.

None of them could see Attuma’s grin behind his rebreather. Perhaps the furry man would grow to the best of the potential allies among the rest in this room who claimed wisdom. Especially those conniving eels of the apparent Tribal Council.

M’Baku rose from his seat and approached the Talokanil general. Namora began to dart forward until Namor silently held up a firm hand. She froze but did not retreat as the Jabari came to stand a few feet in front of Attuma. They were of nearly the same height. Though Attuma appeared significantly taller due to his headdress. At the same time, M’Baku’s thick furs and drapery added to his build.

M'Buku looked Attuma up and down while munching on his snack. While Attuma stood relaxed, he still braced himself in case he needed to take off the furry man’s head.

“Tell me, shark man,” M’Baku casually gestured, “Why did you so quickly agree to marry our preeminent general? What have you to gain from this?”

The murmurs of the court were swiftly silenced by M’Baku’s hoot. He looked around at everyone in displeased warning as the other Jabari present continued their noises of “shut the f*ck UP.”

“What?” he waved around, “No one is asking the important questions of the shark man that you are all so eager to hand off our general to. He offered himself up for this as though his life depended on it. We all deserve to know. Especially her,” he turned to nod at Okoye’s bewildered face. “So what say you, Attuna-?”

“Attuma,” he swiftly corrected with a rumble of his own threat.

M’Baku and bowed his head with a graceful wave of both his arms outward. “Attuma,” he repeated, “Go on, speak.”

“As I expounded, she proved beyond worthy when she marked me. That I am to marry her while serving my nation rather than easily destroying yours requires no further explanation,” he raised his chin upwards in defiance. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

M’Baku wrinkled his nose for a long moment. “Nothing more, nothing less,” he mockingly repeated. Attuma tensed, hand squeezed around the staff of his scythe. “It seems,” M’Baku turned towards the Queen, “The shark man hasn’t much else to say-”

Namora spat out something in their language, sounding incensed and far too fast for GRIOT to translate. Namor rapidly replied at the same pace. However, his tone was nonplussed. He then nodded at Attuma, something passing between them in their silent conversation they apparently had with their eyebrows.

Meanwhile, Namora brought up her harpoon in the direction of M’Baku. He barely reacted, save a twitch of his lip as she hissed, “They waste our time with this infernal agreement.” GRIOT’s translation didn’t miss a beat while she spat at Namor, “Speaking in deceptive riddles, aiming to trick us with their vain words. Why do we not drown the entirety of this accursed place?!”

The room exploded at the outburst. The Dora Milaje standing above them drove their spears into the ground in admonition while the armed courtiers in their semi-circle facing the tribal council and throne jangled their weapons. Namora turned and bared her teeth at the Dora as she crouched in a defensive position. Behind her and still standing next to Okoye, Aneka let out the high-pitched undulating of her old Dora companions and snatched up her spear to lunge into the usual forward attack position.

Okoye froze, barely able to hear Shuri mutter out, “Oh, for f*ck’s sake, Namor, handle your people!”

Attuma let out an exasperated sigh as he reached over a hand to Namora’s upper arm. She fluidly shoved him off, harpoon never moving from where it still pointed at the Dora.

Admittedly, seeing Namor roll his eyes made him appear bizarrely human. Even as Ramonda rose from her throne with a snarl.

“You should have what?!” her eyes blazed at Namora, whose back remained to her in her stare-off at the Dora Milaje. Raising herself to her full height, the Queen whirled on Namor. “You best keep your invasive species of a fish woman under control,” she stiffly raised a hand in reproach, “For she is dangerously close to undoing this entire endeavor!”

Namor’s smile flashed across his face with arrogant aplomb. He said nothing for a few apprehensive minutes before he serenely ordered Namora at ease.

She looked as though she wished to murder every single person in her presence. GRIOT relayed her vicious mutterings as, "Profane idioms relaying great displeasure" as she finally snatched her harpoon back into hand. Forcefully driving its blade into the floor, it should have left a mark, if not for the tile also being comprised of vibranium. It still struck it hard enough to spark.

“It is settled, then,” Namor languidly announced. The room went as silent as a tomb as he dismissively waved around the Tribal Council. “A joining of our greatest generals shall bring our alliance into fruition. Our nations find themselves bridged together accordingly. I look forward to our growth in keeping the colonizers at bay.”

Turning to Okoye, he granted her the Talokan salute with a low bow of his head. She sniffed in derision. It only caused Namor to fix her with a jovial grin. “My kingdom becoming your home in comfort shall be a priority, ix ba'ate'el [warrior]. Talokan welcomes you into our hands. A more worthy one could not be asked for.”

“I do my duty to my throne,” Okoye blankly retorted.

“As do we all, so it seems. May it bring you the greatest of fortune,” Namor simpered before his attention swung to the princess.

Shuri's took in how his gaze burned as he took her in. No longer with repressed fury but something else entirely that caused her heart to race.

Queen Ramonda arched a brow before she gritted out, “Shuri, once the River tribesmen are safely released, see that our guests are cared for. The remainder of you are dismissed.”

The pounding of the spears of the Dora Milaje upon the polished stone floor ominously echoed throughout the chamber.

M’Kathu, the Border Tribe representative, was the first of the Tribal Council to flee the room. Like a rat from a sinking ship. Okoye angrily stared after her uncle as he passed her without a word while the rest of the Tribal Council slowly left. All save for M’Baku.

He exchanged a look with Okoye before noisily announcing that he wished to speak with the Queen as she departed. Ramonda barely managed to wave him forward to accompany her as she left while Shuri marched forward and tersely ordered the Talokanil to follow her. Most of the Dora Milaje closely followed her while eying the blue people.

As Shuri passed Okoye, she muttered for her to retreat to the labs, for she’d be joining her shortly. Aneka appeared on Okoye’s other side at the same time. She slid her hand into hers and gave the general a comforting squeeze as she pulled Okoye in the direction of labs.

Looking over her shoulder, Okoye’s mouth tightened in to a thin line of vexation at how Attuma's eyes followed her as she departed. She loathed how his gaze seemed to brand her skin as he trailed behind his countrymen out of the room with Shuri.

What in the ever-living f*ck had she volunteer herself for?! Well, at least there was nowhere to go but up from the depths of her newly hellish situation.

Shockingly, no one died. With the hostages released from the port at the Piranha Cove, Namor sent home all his soldiers except for Namora and Attuma as agreed.

The evening descended in the Golden City with everyone still on priority alert. The royal citadel remained fortified with extra troops from all tribes. A curfew was declared across all major cities. Additionally, all kimoyo beads throughout the land were automatically set to the highest protocols.

The remaining Talokanil were housed in the guest quarters at the gardens in the back of the palace. The river flowed directly through it so they could take a dip into it to ensure they wouldn't dry out. Though Shuri insisted they wear kimoyo beads to help them navigate the grounds and be tracked. Admittedly, there was no way for her to ensure they didn’t just toss them away. But it was all she could do for the moment. At least they’d now have translators on their person and use GRIOT to call for any food they required.

Despite her exhaustion, Shuri had no idea why she decided to take a stroll around the gardens. Well, she damn well did. She simply refused to dwell on it. No matter how she was soon met by a nearly silent flutter in the air some yards behind her.

She was deeply aware of how he could remain utterly silent if he wished to. Just as the way through the hedgerow maze of tropical bushes and flowered pathways directly in front of her lay imprinted in her mind. She’d run around these parklands her entire life. This specific labyrinth she swiftly ducked into proved her and T’Challa’s favorite one to play hide and seek in. As he grew older, her brother had taken to pulling Nakia into the darkened corners for their alone times.

Shuri craned her neck upward to take in the slightly cloudy sky glistening with the saturated, azure blanket of the stars. Moon hallway to full, it granted enough light to cast everything in its gauzy glow. The crisp late autumn air chilled her, forcing her to wrap her dark cloak tighter around her shoulders. Her nose twitched at the sweetly cloying scent of the footpaths. Around most corners were statues cast of her ancestors. Former kings and queen of the Golden Tribe, within the center of the labyrinth stood the largest one of Bashenga.

Cast of black vibranium, he wore the ancient suit of the Black Panther. However, his face remained uncovered. One hand rested upon his tribal shield while the other sat on the middle of his son’s back to his right side. The little boy of roughly ten or so was clad in a traditional tunic and leggings. He stood with his head looking upward towards his baba. The faint grin on his face and his big, widely innocent eyes looked adoringly up at the Great Uniter. Except Bashenga stared out to the east, where the sun rose without fail. His boy not even within his sights.

What would he think of us all now? Shuri tiredly mused.

Would he curse their lands for revealing their country to outsiders who only wished their death and destruction? Would he too wish them wiped from the face of the earth for shoving themselves into an alliance with this god king who thought himself wholly superior to all who dwelled on land? Or would he accept that with great progression, one had to adapt as best as they could? That in order to neutralize the imminent threats clawing at them from all directions, Wakanda now had to play these political games of life and death, like all other nations?

Shuri leaned against the ebony podium of the statue. Her head didn’t come close to clearing Bashenga’s feet. Closing her eyes, she felt the bracing chill at her back of the gold plaque detailing her ancestor’s life.

All she could do was wait.

“I am sure he watches over you every day from his place beyond the living,” Namor’s voice rang out to her right.

“We call it the Ancestral Plane,” Shuri sharply retorted.

“Ah,” Namor tutted as he melted out of the shadows. The densely growing, golden yellow African Senna plants easily hid him, rising over a foot taller above his broad frame. It was especially obvious since he walked rather than glided across the ground via his wings.

Shuri’s eyes still shut, she felt the radiating heat of him as he came to stand almost flush against her side. He ran significantly warmer than any non-enhanced human. She could only guess due to his mutation maximizing his body for a life under the ocean. Like any mammal who spent most of their time in the crushing pressure of the depths. She distantly pondered if he slept in water vertically for 15 or so minutes at a time, like pods of sperm whales did.

Namor let out a low sigh. “The Ancestral Plane,” he repeated after her. “So your brother-?”

“Your deceitful lips don’t deserve to have his name cross them,” she snarled, eyes snapping open and jerking away from him. Gaze nearly black with fuming indignation, her shoulders heaved. “Not after you took advantage of my grief and turned my words against me!”

Her hand shifted, preparing to smack the allegedly innocent expression from his handsomely carved visage. He brought up his wide open arms in a placating gesture. “Did you not wish to burn the world-?”

“I said all that in a moment of f*cking mourning,” she scowled. “You weren’t even supposed to hear it. How dare you eavesdrop on me! On my mother. On a woman who’d lost not only her king but her very son!”

Shuri despised how the hot tears began to run down her cheeks. Her entire being vibrated with rage, her heart beat frenzied. A migraine began to wrench at her head. The throbbing making her dizzy with wrath, her lungs struggled for breath. As though they were about to collapse from the rising pressure bearing down on her.

Drowning.

She was f*cking drowning.

Kicking her way to the surface of her fury, her mouth opened wide with the taste of the bitter ash of truth. “You invaded my country and spied on an intimate conversation between its sovereigns,” she gasped, wiping at her cheeks. “Nevertheless, you still made your petty little threats.”

Namor’s nostrils flared. “I never threaten anyone, princess. Those were promises.”

Shuri nearly screamed in outrage. “Bedeviled promises where you clearly don’t see my people as equals,” she hissed.

“I never said-”

“There is a term on the surface, an idiom,” Shuri snapped, “Actions speak louder than words. Your dealings with us reek of a superiority complex. Now, you expect everyone to proceed with this marriage contract, an archaic practice that we haven’t undertaken in generations, by the way, in good faith?!”

His genuine bewilderment at her railing against him caused her to let out a resentful guffaw. Namor pulled away from where he stood side by side with her. Looking up at Bashenga before his gaze swept down to read the plaque, he worried his lower lip with his teeth.

“Even you must admit this way to will be less lethal and more palatable all around,” he hummed, “For wars cost the victor casualties as well.”

“So what will it cost my dearest friend in Okoye?” Shuri balled her fists in front of her. “And I swear to Bast, if you say she volunteered like every f*ck-body-else today, you will immediately find my hands wrapped around your throat.”

His long pause told her that was exactly what he was going to come back at her with.

Namor was well aware of Attuma's infatuation with the Wakandan warrior. His general couldn't keep his eyes off of her while she was their guest. So similar to his own glances at their princess. Now, he wouldn’t have to punish this nation for their defiance against him since an example of a different sort was to be made. Besides, the Wakandan woman scarred Attuma, more than proving her acumen. Who wouldn't want her married into his people?

“Princess,” he deliberately exhaled, “Your general will not be the only one leaving her old life behind. Attuma excels in his calling as well. He is impressively dutiful, spending the whole of his life in my service. For the first time in his existence, he will no longer just call Talokan his home.”

Shuri scoffed, “Okoye has no value to you-”

“You all confirmed in the throne room how she is one of your Midnight Angels,” Namor cut her off. “She leads them, as I recall. That naturally makes her of high esteem,” he lazily shrugged.

Shuri was about to retort but her mouth snapped shut. Instead she bared her teeth. “Just because you cannot have me does not mean that I will sell off one of my own.”

Namor shook his head with a bored sigh. “You’re not selling anyone. This is a marriage of equals-”

“Okoye will not be taken advantage of!” Shuri all but howled. The very air seemed to ripple around her, dangerous and filled with dark threat. “She is one of the most treasured people of Wakanda.”

“Excellent,” Namor waved away in dismissal, “I am glad you recognize her strength in joining our kingdoms. She will be more than a worthy bride for Attuma.”

“He is beneath her,” Shuri sneered.

Namor was on her in the blink of an eye, wings propelling him forward to loom over her. He was distantly proud at how she stood stock still despite her rapidly elevating heartbeat echoing in his ears.

“You’ve no right to insult one of my most talented generals!” he hissed.

Shuri let out a frustrated growl. “You’ve no right to attempt to steal mine!”

Namor rolled his eyes. “You act as though we plan to kidnap her forever-”

"That's rich coming from you and how you threatened to kill me when all my mother wanted was my sensible return from your kingdom," Shuri jeered right back.

She stared in incensed wonder at his nerve to look genuinely confused. He drew back from her, allowing his feet to touch the ground as her face twisted with reproach.

Her voice rose, livid as she crossed her arms. "You also conveniently hid from her how I volunteered to go to Talokan under a sense of force to save Riri and Okoye."

Namor gazed at her before opening his mouth to interrupt. But Shuri plunged forward.

"You attempted intimidation of my mother," she spat, chin jutted out in defiance. "You swore to murder me when all she wanted to know was that I was okay! And you know damn well I'm her only child left after all that's happened to us; of course she did everything in her power to get me back when you utterly refused true negotiation. You'd do the same to bring home any of your missing subjects-"

"I would," he proudly retorted, "I love them. They are my children!"

Shuri's mirthless grin had him regretting his impulsive reply as she flatly agreed, "Precisely, Namor."

He flinched at her use of that name. Shoulders heaving, his eyes widened with disappointment as he drew his hands behind himself. He refused to allow her to see how he dug his fingernails into his palms so hard that he drew blood.

Shuri's expression remained unchanged as she tightly drew her arms across her chest. "So how," she muttered, "Can I even trust you to give a f*ck about my friend, who is basically family to me? This is one of the biggest decisions of her life!"

Namor wiped his healed palms down his sides, their blood absorbing into his clothes. His deep breaths echoed in the air before he licked at his lower lip.

"I will have my people safe," he insisted. "A marriage contract that does not take your general into account will be doomed to fail and could potentially turn Attuma against me."

He couldn't forget the fire in his general's words as he carried the Wakandan's unconscious body into his quarters when they returned from their mission. In all of Attuma's comparatively long life, he'd never spoken of any other paramour in such a way. All while this woman hadn't even entered into courtship with him. Yet all it took was her spear tip to his face to set her apart in his estimation.

"Your general's destiny lies in my nation's now," Namor sniffed, "Therefore, it is my duty to ensure her fortune proves as golden as any of my people's."

"It’s a marriage,” Shuri snapped, “She will be forced to leave her home behind since he cannot live on the surface.”

Namor shook his head a tick, temper cooling. “And he cannot survive living on the land either, Princess. Why do you think I proposed negotiations? For any hope of them to grow together both above and below the waves, they must have some sense of home," his voice fell low. "How else do you expect feelings to flourish between them? For them to move together as beloveds?"

Shuri rapidly blinked in astonishment at the softening of his words. Letting out the breath she held, she pressed her back into the podium. It grew increasingly trying for her to think straight with him so near. While his broad height didn’t tower over her, he still hovered only a few inches away.

Namor cautiously stepped even more into Shuri's space. Laughably easy to take in how her pupils dilated, the slowing thrum of her heartbeat was unmistakable. She made no attempt to push his fingers away as he deliberately trailed them down her stomach. Her bodysuit allowed him to feel how her abdomen fluttered at his touch.

"You certainly didn't seem to mind my kingship when you rode me to utter incoherence," he purred at her ear.

Shuri's face was set aflame at the memories of what occurred in the various caves of his sacred grotto. She swallowed back her simmering words as he groaned out, "Nor when you used me at your will. I swore to grant you the world, from the highest peaks to the deepest oceans. If only to ensure that I could taste you on my lips to the end of your days."

Her slap across his face was hard enough to draw blood from his lower lip. His gaze incensed, it suddenly slipped to deliciously pleased as he licked at the wound.

The blood still wet, Shuri watched in grotesque fascination as his split lip sealed back together nearly too fast for her to track. As though nothing occurred. A dream of a kiss she so willingly placed there what seemed a lifetime ago despite it being less than a fortnight in the passage of time.

"You are lucky, Princess," he hummed with a heated intimacy that went straight to her core.

"Am I?" she raggedly retorted. It took every ounce of her willpower to not lean forward to bite another wound onto that deliriously accursed mouth of his.

Did mutant blood taste the same as human? Would the different DNA alter its composition?

"I have lived long enough to appreciate the power of pain doled out to me at the whims of a goddess," Namor's breath caressed her ear.His teeth nearly grazed her lobe. He settled for the tip of his nose dragging against her cheek. Rewarded with her shiver, another uptick in the beat of her heart echoed in his bones.

"You should embrace it up here, as you did on top of me down there," he emphatically pointed at the ground as his other hand slid to fully press his palm into her side. "I find myself enthralled with bearing witness to the evolution of your…talents."

Shuri's chest rose and fell flush against the solid strength of him as she let out a hungry whine. His gaze aflame, it desperately searched her face. The scent of him, burnt flame blended with salty, blooming, damp flowers swirled around her like a siren song. The memory of how he begged her for relief as he laid himself out beneath her hungry, exploring hands and mouth twisted in her gut in the best of ways.

"Tene' a tia'al utia'al biilankiltej [I am yours to use]," he'd sworn during their numerous liaisons. "Ma'atech ka'a ti' in jóok' chi' [I never go back in my promises]," his heated whispers branded into her skin. "In sukbenilo'ob yaan teecho' bey teech áanteni [My nation will be yours as you are mine]."

She thanked her ancestors for granting her the willpower to not drag him into her quarters to f*ck him just as raw as she did while visiting his extraordinary kingdom. Instead, she snapped her mouth shut before sinuously sliding away from his touch.

She avoided his gaze as she cleared her throat and flatly declared it’d be best for him to return to his quarters. With that, she all but dashed back to her own. A tap of her kimoyo beads to the wall slid it open and she ducked inside.

Gaining access to the surveillance cameras of the citadel via her beads, Shuri clutched her fist to her mouth as she watched him linger at the statue. He pressed his forehead to it for a few long minutes as he closed his eyes. After what seemed an eternity, he muttered something unintelligible in his language before gliding away out of the maze. A flutter of his wings and he was gone.

Not until she watched him enter his quarters using the network of cameras did Shuri mutter an order GRIOT to erase all footage of the encounter. No need for unnecessary secrets to be spilled to complicate things even further than the madness the day already brought.

Shuri was up with the sun in her lab the next morning. For she'd sworn to pin down any weakness in Namor. It'd ensure they'd all be prepared for any other sneak attack. While she knew the Talonakil could be killed with sonic weapons or via too much air exposure to their gills, their king was an entirely different story.

She'd neutralize that water elf as soon as possible.

They had a few hours before the marriage negotiations started mid-morning. Okoye felt a bizarre sort of peace as Shuri understandably raged in her lab. She took in the princess cursing and grinding her teeth as she angrily blowtorched together pieces of her model for the latest upgrades for advanced, sonic weaponry against this new enemy.

"They're technically allies now," Okoye muttered from where she stiffly sat in a chair behind Shuri's workbench.

Shuri spun on her. “If they’re such close allies, how’d your father take the news of his daughter’s auspicious, pending nuptials then?” she grit her teeth.

“Such a low-ass blow,” Okoye snapped before she let out a bone-tired tire sigh and rolled her eyes to the ceiling.

Shuri startled and crossed the room to drop into the large chair. She hauled Okoye into a tight hug. “I’m sorry,” she muttered, pressing her nose into the general’s shoulder, “I should be the one comforting you, not bitching like a big-ass baby.”

Okoye shrugged, though she wrapped an arm around her waist from the side. “I volunteered, remember?” she flatly retorted.

“To save me!” Shuri snorted. “Forgive me for not making it more damn clear that you weren’t up for grabs.”

“You make it sound like you’re all selling me off like some piece of livestock,” Okoye’s lip twitched with a fleeting grin.

“It’s selling you off for the sake of alleged peace,” Shuri scowled. “We don’t even f*cking know if that water elf will hold up his end of the treaty and keep from attacking us next time he gets his temper up.”

Okoye couldn’t hold back a light laugh. Giving her side a squeeze, she laid her head on top of Shuri’s. “Well,” she let out a deep exhale, “It’s good to see my insult of Namor seems to be catching on.”

Shuri cackled, some of the tension draining away. “That sh*t’s funny, what can I say?”

Okoye allowed herself a smile before she lightly pushed Shuri up from the chair to go back to her work. The Princess moved to her feet, though she turned around, expression serious.

“You know I can get you out of this, right?”

“Shuri-”

“I will marry him if I must,” Shuri cut her off as she worried her lower lip and clutched a hand at her long tunic over brightly colored, netted leggings. “Royals have always done arranged marriages. It’s part of our duties and precisely for things like securing treaties.”

Okoye scoffed, “Not in this day and age.”

Shuri crossed her arms. “I thought you were a traditionalist, general?” Her words held no scorn, softly said.

Okoye rocked to her feet and reached out to pull Shuri’s arms away from herself. Resting her hands on her wrists, she nodded in disagreement. “That doesn’t mean I want my Princess, my leader to suffer-”

“And you being my subject means I won’t wish your suffering either. Do not my people deserve their monarchs to ensure these sorts of heavy decisions never weigh on their shoulders?”

Okoye balked. “You’re starting to sound like him, Shuri.”

“Never!” Shuri wrinkled her nose in distaste, “By Bast, akunjalo [absolutely not]!”

“So let me deal with the consequences of my decision to serve my country then,” Okoye quietly retorted.

Shuri adamantly shook her head in disagreement and pouted. Even as she sharply replied, “Fine.”

“Good,” Okoye insisted.

Retreating, she took a seat as Shuri refocused on her work. Trying to distract from their disagreement, the general had Shuri walk her through her latest project. Before long, GRIOT announced it would soon be time to meet for the marriage negotiations. Shuri cursed but left her work to head back to her quarters. Okoye followed. Soon, they were making their way to one of the prearranged reception rooms.

Okoye wore the long whirl of the blue and gold uniform of the Midnight Angels. It was similar to the Dora Milaje, except its fabric was threaded through with more densely woven vibranium threads. It'd withstand the higher pressure of water should she find herself in it without the armor.

Queen Ramonda was absent from the negotiations. As was Namora. The marriage contract would therefore be ironed out between Namor, Shuri, Okoye and Attuma. Ayo and two other Dora Milaje led them into a receiving room on the same level as a throne room, just a few doors down. Shuri led Namor in. He was followed by Attuma. Aneka was there as well, sticking to Okoye's side.

The hexagonal walls were tiled in swirling gold and tan circles interlocked with each other. Despite the bright morning sun shining down through the dome's skylight that covered the entire roof, the interior temperature proved chilly to accommodate the Talokanil. The dome's glass could also be opened to let in fresh air.

Scattered all along the tiled floor that matched the walls were plush carpets of deep blue, green and gold. It reminded Okoye of the waves of the oceans. She wondered if it was on purpose. At the head was a long, rectangular, onyx table sitting on a raised, dark wooden dias. Various wrapped snacks, two crystal pitchers of water and multiple matching goblets were laid out on them.

Within the center of the room was a large fountain carved of ivory and gold. It sprouted up from a long reflecting pool running perpendicular and the entire width of the room. Fresh water pumped through the fountain via an intricate system of pipes drawing directly from the river. The water fully oxygenated, the pool was deep enough to healthily submerge a person. Though its bottom was tiled in turquoise and dark blue to create an optical illusion of even more depth.

Shuri tersely explained how the Talokanil could use the fountain pool to refresh themselves since negotiating was scheduled to occur over the next few days. She also assured them if they needed any other sustenance to remain comfortable, it could all be arranged.

"This room is well situated-"

Namor's compliment was cut off by the pounding of Ayo's spear against the tiled section of the floor. He snorted with irritation as she announced that the marriage negotiations would now be brought into session by Princess Shuri of the Golden Tribe.

Namor huffed at Shuri's smirk. "Let us be seated," she magnanimously waved at the table. "K’uk’ulkan, you may pick wherever you wish."

Lips pressed into a tight line and eyes burning into hers, he finally spun on his heel and marched up the stairs of the dais. His gaze scanned the table as he tossed his light-colored cape embroidered in red and gold thread over a broad shoulder. He glanced over to Shuri with a triumphant grin before sinking down into the plush leather chair at the head of the table.

Swiftly gesturing for Attuma to join him to his right, the general did so. However, he cautiously sunk down into the high-backed chair. Shifting around for a bit, he let out a grunt of approval with the way the seat didn't creak or groan under his weight.

Shuri rolled her eyes as she quickly moved to drop into the seat to Namor's left and directly across from Attuma. Okoye sat her other side. She purposely avoided Attuma's steady, dark gaze. It made her far less acutely irate to focus on a patterned spot of the wall in front of her next to him. Ayo and a handful of other Dora stood guard at the closed doors. Aneka stood on Ayo's other side in a show of solidarity.

Attuma really needed to fix his f*cking eyes elsewhere.

As Shuri called up GRIOT to record the session, Namor snatched out and poured himself a goblet of water. He drank two more full ones as Shuri distantly described how GRIOT would record this session and all others in order to assure nothing was left out of the marriage contract. If the Talokanil wished, she could provide a copy to them at the end of each day.

"It will have been engraved in stone," Namor shrugged. Shuri wanted to smack the smirk off of his face as he added, "Are you not aware that paper doesn't fare very well underwater, princess?"

"Of course."

"We use stone tablets engraved with vibranium. Or wax tablets for less permanent record use."

She looked to where Attuma still stared at Okoye. “General Attuma?" she questioned. She appreciated how Namor bristled at being questioned.

"Yes, Princess Shuri of Golden Tribe?" the general decisively replied.

"Princess is just fine-"

“That is not your full title," Attuma tossed back, gaze indolently moving to hers as GRIOT translated over him. “I have no wish to disrespect you.”

Okoye muttered, "Just stealing brides, that's all.”

No one else should have heard it. Except they had a mutant and Talokanil enhanced in the room with them.

Attuma frowned, brows furrowed while Namor turned his burning gaze on her. "Forgive me," he huffed, "Did you wish to speak up more clearly so that we may all hear your thoughts on these pending nuptials, Okoye, newly installed General of the Midnight Angels?"

Shuri angrily cleared her throat. "New does not equal inconsequential," she scornfully retorted. "Though if you feel as such, then this marriage is, how should I say it? Dead in the water."

Namor casually poured himself more water and drank it. The silence as he did so seemed to vibrate with malice.

"Someone," he grit his teeth after he finished, "Will be contracted to marrying someone before we leave this room."

Okoye snapped, "You don't have to sacrifice yourself to him, Shuri-!”

"I will marry no other-!" Attuma insisted at the same time.

Shocked silence filled the room as the two of them eyed each other. Attuma sat stone-faced, hands gripping his knees. Okoye remained utterly still, face twisted with determination.

Namor's derisive laugh filled the tense atmosphere as he waved between the two of them. "It seems our generals are eager to unite, Princess. Moreso than we are. I say we give them both what they so direly want."

Okoye refused to let her face fall as Attuma leaned back in his seat, gazing at her once more. Though his intensity seemed to shift to something bizarrely softer.

Shuri reached out and clasped her hand under the table with such force, it was starting to cut off Okoye's circulation. Okoye squeezed her back in comfort. Taking a few deep breaths, Shuri proudly raised her head and once again called for GRIOT to begin recording.

Let the games begin.

Chapter 6

Chapter Text

Three days. It took three exhausting days to negotiate the terms of the marriage between Wakanda and Talokan.Multiple propositions ironed out, both countries finally found themselves in agreement.

Two weddings were to take place. As a sign of Namor’s apparent magnanimity, the first wedding would occur in Wakanda at the full moon after next and within six weeks’ time. In exchange, Okoye would travel to Talokan to live with Attuma in the first cycle of their coupling and after the second wedding there.

Neither the bride nor groom would be forced to live in one place the entire time. Moving back and forth between Wakanda and Talokan would occur every three months. Should either party decide to stay longer, they could do so. Save an emergency, they had to live at minimum for 90 days together within each other’s realms during each cycle. Shuri’s Working Group planned to collaborate with the best of Talokan’s scientists to create comfortable homes for both of them within each other’s lands.

No one would be forced to have children. At the same time, Attuma inquired about the potential of adopting younglings. Okoye did not object. To make it a mutually beneficial endeavor, they could adopt an equal number of children from both Wakanda and Talokan.

Any potential marriage ending disputes would be brought to a council of two to three each of Talokanil and Wakandan members, resulting in five members on board at any given time. The nation with the majority of council members was set to change every year. Once a dispute was voted on, it was rendered settled unless extenuating circ*mstances required the issue be revisited.

Most importantly, any threat against either spouse would be perceived as a threat against both nations. Treated with maximum importance, neither of them were to be considered unequal in the eyes of their spouse’s realm.They would also each be full citizens of both kingdoms and with rights granted accordingly.

Shuri insisted that the Talokanil wear kimoyo beads to help facilitate their integration. Along with the necessary translator to avoid misunderstandings. During the alliance talks, she sent plans to the Working Group with her initial designs.

Talokan's version of the kimoyo beads would be jade colored with gold glyphs in their language. Waterproof, of course. The AI to run them would be called WAVE. "Working AI Venerating Everyone," Shuri dubbed it. It’d be integrated with GRIOT, transmitting data back and forth between Shuri’s labs and those down in Talokan. Attuma would be the first recipient of the Talokanil styled beads. He didn’t seem to mind wearing them in diagnostics mode since it would allow him to fully understand Okoye’s languages.

Besides this marriage, the alliance would allow an exchange of resources between countries. Scientists, soldiers, merchants and cultural ambassadors would begin moving freely between realms upon thorough vetting and after the weddings.

With all else settled, the final questions lay in the matter of the marriage bed.

“Consummation?” Okoye sucked her teeth, eyes blazing, “This is a political marriage!”

Such fiery wrath, Attuma’s thoughts wandered, observing how she clenched her fist on the table between them.

Like many of his homeland, his father would take him and his siblings to watch the eruptions from the deep-sea volcanic vents. One could observe them from a safe distance as they spewed their powerful plasma into the sea. It provided the crucial elements that granted the seabed's soil its life and made the seawater richer with nutrients. But wander too close and it’d end in your incineration.A necessary risk for the richness of the reward.

Attuma hungered with anticipation at the potential to enflame her even further. Would her sparkling eyes flash their rich, dark brown with as much life as they currently did when he fully claimed her? Would her little noises of indignation slide into begging moans as he pleasured her in every single way he knew himself capable of?

Namor cleared his throat, for once appearing genuinely unnerved. “We-”

“You, you mean” Shuri swiftly retorted while pointing accusingly at him across the table, “Don’t drop this mess on me.”

Namor poured himself a glass of water. It took him some time to drink it all down.

Looking over to Attuma, he took in how his general sat rigid in his seat with his eyes raking over his betrothed in rapt contemplation. The Wakandan general pretended not to notice. Nevertheless, Namor couldn't miss the way she'd positioned herself to ensure he was never out of her sight. The tightness of her spine and the rigid line of her shoulders made it obvious she was ready to spring into action at any moment.

The King abruptly stood and marched over to the massive fountain in the center of the room. Gracefully diving in to submerge himself, he broke the surface after a bit.

Shuri bit at her lower lip, unable to tear her eyes away from how he ran a deliberate hand through his curling, wet hair to brush it back from his forehead. A flex of his bicep sent rivulets of water running down it. The fish man then had the audacity to smirk at her before he once again slipped beneath the surface.

“Attuma, you look as though you could use refreshment,” Namor nodded at him as he reemerged.

Attuma's attention snapped from Okoye before he rapidly rose from his seat without a word and joined his king. After his initial plunge, he yanked his rebreather from his face and set it on the wide, alabaster ledge of the fountain. Its pool was deep enough for him to completely disappear under its surface, even as he still wore his hammerhead headdress.

Shuri and Okoye exchanged skeptical looks before the Princess shrugged and wandered over to the fountain.

It took by the end of day two for the Talokanil to feel comfortable discussing matters of state while swimming in the fountain's pool versus staying out of it to not appear weak to outsiders in between breaks. Now day three, the warmth of the noonday sun streamed down into the room through the hexagonal skylights above. It cast both women in its soft, golden rays. None of which was lost on the Talokanil men who watched them from the comfort of the pool.

Shuri took to sitting on the wide ledge of the pool during the fountain-side talks. She dangled her bare legs in the water where she'd pushed her trousers up to her knees. She'd never been one for protocols and it wasn't as though Ayo, Aneka and the half-dozen of Dora guarding them weren't still around.

Meanwhile Okoye sat next to her. Keeping her legs crossed and back straight, she was the epitome of disciplined irritation as Attuma swam in random patterns back and forth in front of her.

He didn't require his mouth rebreather since he was in the water and his gill rebreather remained in place. It allowed Okoye to see his entire face. Along with his natural skin color beneath the surface. She refused to acknowledge what a difference it all made in his appearance.

Full lower lip tilted in the shadow of a smirk, his eyes never left her as he gracefully twirled and kicked in the water. Like some malignant mermaid attempting to seduce her into the waves. Aggravated with how she always fell mesmerized at his movements in the pool being so different from the way he wandered on land, Okoye cleared her throat and finally tore her gaze from him to Shuri.

Namor lithely tread the water while facing Shuri. “In both Talokan and Wakanda, marriages are a hallowed celebration of life. Consummation ensures that no one may break it apart. Or back out of it,” he glanced to Okoye.

“Don’t accuse me of trying anything of the sort,” Okoye shot back at him. It took all of her willpower to not flick water in his direction. Not with that infernal leer that followed her retort. “At the same time,” she frowned, “This is an arranged engagement. By Bast, it came close to murder at our first interaction,” she grit out.

“Treaties have been built on less-”

“As I said, arranged royal marriages have not occurred in nearly a century here,” Shuri countered.

Namor tilted his head to take her in, eyes hooded. “It is known and has been relayed several times throughout these discussions. Nonetheless, our goddess Ix Chel still demands her sacrifice of the bedding," his voice dropped with reverence. "Without her blessing from the moon within 13 sacred days from the last nuptial ceremony? This coupling may fall heavy with great tribulations,” he furrowed his brow.

Behind him, Attuma grunted in agreement.

Closing her eyes, Okoye let out a ragged sigh. She dropped her hands to her knees and threw her head back for a long moment before snapping her eyes back open. “This is utter insanity-”

“I will court you, in ba'ate'el, [my warrior]” Attuma’s deep rumble echoed throughout the chamber.

Okoye’s stupefied expression took longer than she liked to wipe from her face. “You will what?” she whispered.

Attuma leisurely swam forward to the ledge right beneath her. Placing his palms flat against it on either side of her knees had her surrounded. Her gaze naturally flit along the droplets of water sliding down his strong, aquiline nose and high cheekbones to his neck. Pooling in the hollow of his throat at his gill rebreather, they glistened along the beefy muscle of his torso before disappearing into the pool. She sucked in a breath at his tawny, warm brown color beneath the surface.

Only now did she distantly recall Shuri explaining that unlike Namor, the rest of the Talokanil only retained their biological skin colors while submerged. Something to do with how they processed oxygen in the air versus water. Witnessing it this closeup sent her mind spinning with curiosity as he made his proposition.

“Grant me 13 turns of the sun after the last of our nuptials to show how you are to be treasured wholly," Attuma confidently retorted. "If you do not wish to be properly bedded at the end of that, I will make no move to do so,” he swore.

Okoye gawked at him. "But your bed-"

"Our bed," he emphasized, floating beneath her.

"...will not be considered blessed by your gods," Okoye sped forward, ignoring the warmth rising to her cheeks. "I won't be accused of disrespecting your customs or bringing down your gods' wrath to you," she side-eyed Namor as he fixed her with an enigmatic look.

Attuma shrugged. "I have you. So they have clearly blessed me."

"Stop that," Okoye muttered and looked away, "Stop saying things of that sort."

"Why?" Attuma arched a thick, dark brow, "It is true-"

“There’s no need to…undertake all of that,” she sniffed, "The courting. It's unnecessary."

Taken aback, Attuma shot a dumbfounded look to Namor over his shoulder. “She does not wish to be properly wooed?” he reeled off in utter confusion with a frantic wave of his hands, GRIOT translating, “By me? How can this be?!”

Namor languidly shrugged. He barely managed to hold back a laugh at the same time Shuri let out a deep sigh and dropped her head into her hands. Okoye slapped her palm on the fountain's edge between them.

“Look at me,” she ordered Attuma, “I am to be your spouse, not him,” she tersely nodded at Namor.

The Talokanil general regarded her with disbelief as he kicked upwards. It allowed him to haul himself out of the water all the way to his waist. Okoye didn't retreat as he crossed his arms on the ledge in front of her to lean down to rest on them. She stared down at him in reproach. It only made him tartly grin before his expression slid to serious.

“You will be courted appropriately,” he tersely insisted, "For no one will accuse me of being unable to provide for you.”

“I’ve provided for myself perfectly fine and for decades,” Okoye leaned in even closer.

Attuma rolled his eyes. “It speaks no less of you to accept what is mine. Because it will now be yours." At her noise of disagreement, he added, "That does not lower you in anyone’s estimation.”

“What if it does in my view?” Okoye snapped.

Attuma wrinkled his nose in disagreement. “Then I say that perhaps you learn to view the support of others as a boon rather than any weakness within yourself," he slid his damp hand close enough to nearly touch her knee.

She balked, nodding in disagreement. “Watch it, you’re going to get me all wet,” she lightly pushed him away.

Except he effortlessly intertwined his fingers with hers to press their palms together. Okoye swallowed back a gasp at the way his pleasantly calloused skin felt some degrees hotter than an unenhanced human’s despite the water as he gave her a light squeeze. His grip dwarfed hers, refusing to let go as she instinctively attempted to pull away.

“I am sure I will, in watan utia'al [my wife to be].”

Okoye froze.

Did he just wink at her?!

He’d already unhanded her and dipped beneath the surface by the time GRIOT finished his translation. He then had the nerve to aimlessly swim in circles beneath her, the entirety of his coloring easy to observe. Not that she was distracted by it. Nor his unrepentant smile up at her.

Oh no, he had dimples.

They granted him an immeasurably youthful look in direct contrast with his menacing armor and headdress. Okoye blinked with startled recognition at the fact that he was obviously handsome. It was impossible to deny now. Heart beating against her ribs, she looked to the Princess. As though she'd find relief there.

Shuri pressed her lips together, trying to contain herself before she raised her hands in surrender and hummed, “Ungandijongi sisi [Do not look at me, sister].”

Okoye vividly imagined running a spearpoint through Namor’s neck as his laughter bounced off the walls. “So we are in agreement, Okoye of the Midnight Angels? My general shall put his 13 days to use?”

“Do I have a choice?” Okoye grumbled even as she glanced down to find Attuma coming back to the surface.

“All choices contain their consequences,” Namor sagely replied. “Both of yours have ushered in a new age for our nations. We are grateful.”

“A god, grateful to us mere mortals?” Okoye barely contained her sneer, “How astonishing.”

Attuma’s eyes widened as he rapidly broke the surface with a loud splash. At the same time, Namor’s predatory smile as he ascended up from the water with a rapid flutter of his wings appeared to cause little reaction from the Wakandan general.

Far less than Ayo, Aneka and the other Dora standing guard by the doorway. They all shifted to battle stance with an ominous pounding of their spears into the floor. Shuri held up a silent hand to them despite her mouth pressed into a thin line of warning at him. Her guards slightly relaxed, even as they gripped their weapons more tightly at their parade rest.

Yet Namor sensed only the slightest increase in Okoye’s heartbeat. No scent of fear or even mild distress emanated from her. She didn’t look away either. If anything, her gaze zeroed in on his wings. She pulled her feet from underneath how she sat cross legged. A hair’s breadth from springing into action in defense of her princess, judging by how her scrutiny slid to Shuri.

She would make a superb wife. If only she would learn to accept how fate auspiciously granted her the chance to be loved so absolutely by one of his most gifted.

Namor floated to the fountain’s ledge and silently touched down in front of her. By now, she stood. While nearly as tall as him, he suspected that even if she were shorter, she still wouldn’t flinch in his presence.

"A god is useless without the love and trust of their people," he bowed his head, "Which in turn must be earned from them via their god's protection and heeding of their prayers." Dark eyes looking up at her through thick lashes with the corner of his mouth slightly tilted upward, he appeared almost boyish. "Just as a spouse cannot flourish without the devotion of their partner," his gaze swept over her doubtful face, "That is why my general will do all in his power for your trust in hope that it shall earn your affections. No matter your past…experiences."

Okoye looked back to Attuma's sanguine stare where he now stood on the fountain's ledge some feet behind her. Even with his mouth rebreather back on, it was obvious.

While their first encounter resulted in violence, he at least operated fairly. There was no deception in his actions. He granted her equal footing when he kicked her spear back at her. He fought with nothing but aggressive skill, so similar to her own. They both operated within the confines of their duty to their monarchs on that damn bridge.

Unlike a certain person serving their lifetime sentence for treason, the shark man made no attempt to toss her failures back in her face. Nor did he seem to take her differences in opinion as something to be suppressed "for the greater good."

Attuma never interrupted her disagreements with Namor's propositions during these talks. He listened, waiting until she voiced them fully before presenting his own. His voice never felt dismissive. Whenever they hit an impasse, he'd calmly shrug and casually say they could revisit them later upon further thought. It came off as deliberately mindful.

It was the bare minimum but it was all she could take. At least for now.

Rolling her shoulders, Okoye let out a deep sigh before firmly declaring, "The contract is set. I agree to its terms." Turning to Shuri she added, "All parties should seal it accordingly."

"If you say so," Shuri replied. Back on her feet, she purposefully looped her arm with Okoye's as she addressed Namor in front of them. "The treaty will have to be ratified with the Queen and Tribal Council."

"May the gods help us all," Attuma sniffed and rolled his eyes to the heavens. GRIOT's flat-voiced translation only added to his sarcasm. Okoye wasn't sure if she liked how her lip twitched in agreement with her shark man, considering the exhausting nonsense of the council.

Shuri all but dragged her out of the room as she tossed out an order to the Dora and Aneka to escort their new allies back to their riverfront quarters in the gardens. Tonight, a quickly thrown together dinner celebrating the agreement would take place. Mostly ceremonial since it still had to be ratified by both sides. But it was the gesture that mattered.

"I'll make the excuses, you don't have to come tonight," Shuri quickly reassured Okoye as she hustled them back to her lab.

The Wakandan general made a noise of discontent. "What kind of message will that send?"

"f*ck the message or appearances!" Shuri swore. "I'll smooth it over while you tell your father what's going to happen at your wedding in the next month and a half," Shuri whispered.

By Bast, what in the f*ck was she going to tell her father?!

Under normal circ*mstances, Okoye would be glad her baba happened to be staying with her during a national emergency. She didn’t have to worry about him being on the border’s first line of defense and hundreds of miles away from her in Birnin Zana. She was easily able to get in contact with him after Nakia alerted the nation. She knew he could safely shelter in place in her reinforced home.

Except she'd been at the palace for days. And now, she was engaged to a virtual alien. Which she needed to explain to him before word spread. That’s assuming he hadn’t found out already since she volunteered herself in front of the entire throne room and multiple tribes’ folk.

“Baba?” Okoye nervously questioned as her father paced the study in her home in the Golden City, “Are you…how do you…?” she trailed off.

Tanisko let out a ragged sigh and pressed his palms to his eyes. Slowly turning to take in his daughter caused a defeated expression to cross her face. He frowned and rushed across the room to pull her into a hug before he stopped short at how she froze.

Muttering to himself, he began pacing again before he marched out the back door to the rear veranda. It granted a breathtaking view of the curve in the river. Along with the stunning sight of the sunset as it washed the sky in plumes of darkening lavender and sandy orange.

Okoye distantly wandered if the fish folk silently swam through the rushing river waters right under her nose as they sped towards Piranha Cove to take their hostages.

How exactly did she expect her father to react to the bomb she dropped on him of her pending nuptials? Perhaps she should have let him settle in after not seeing her in person since the Talokanil invaded nearly a week ago. It probably would have gone significantly better had she not greeted him with a long hug before rushing out all that occurred.

“Hey baba, yes, I’m fine and we now have a treaty with the sea people who invaded, I am to be married into their kingdom, thank Bast you’re safe…do you think it’d be appropriate to wear umama’s wedding jewels for a second wedding? When’s the last time you ate? I’ll go make something for you.”

Tanisko’s dusky hazel eyes widened. Rather similarly to how his mouth did before he twitchily sunk down into the leather chair in Okoye’s living room. After a few long, tense minutes, he swept to his feet to begin briskly pacing back and forth. At this rate, he was going to wear a groove into her freshly installed floors. No matter that they were brightly-colored tile.

After he made his way outside, she waited for a long moment before she snuck off to her bedroom to bathe and change. She’d done so daily in the guest quarters at the palace but needed to wash away the proverbial dirt and grime of her marriage negotiations. Being in her own house granted her some relief. Though how long it’d be her home remained to be seen. Shuri promised a new one that would suit both her and her new husband.

Her husband.

Okoye sunk down into the warm bath as the hot tears started running down her face. She clutched her fist to her mouth in a vain attempt to muffle herself. Why she bothered, she didn’t f*cking know. It wasn’t as though her father could hear her. Yet she still sat there shaking, embarrassed to show any perceived weakness even to herself.

She didn't know how long she wept. Only that the water grew shivering cold before she finished up. Donning loose pants and a tank top to fight the evening heat, she went outside to where she heard her father continuing to pace. He looked up at her, expression shadowed as he took a slow seat on the wide, cushioned bench that faced the river. She remained standing at the back door and on the other side of the veranda.

He dropped his hands to his knees as he shifted to slouch. “So you offered yourself up?” Tanisko quietly asked.

“Yes, baba.”

“No one forced you?”

“No-”

“Not even the Queen?” he narrowed his eyes with suspicion. “Because if she did,” he started to rise from his seat, “I swear on Bast, I will give her a piece of my mind!” he raised an accusing finger.

Okoye’s eyes widened at her father’s fervor. He’d never said an overly harsh word on Ramonda. Or any of the royal family for that matter. Not even during his wife’s most difficult missions as a War Dog. He even refused to have a word spoken against them when she perished in the line of duty overseas.

Mosa freely chose her duty, knowing that the ultimate sacrifice was possible. I do not regret sticking by her in the time we had together, umntwana wam othandekayo [my sweet child], he tearfully pulled Okoye into a hug after everyone left their home after the funeral.

Like all of Wakanda’s most loyal warriors who died in the line of duty under extraordinary circ*mstances, Okoye’s mother was buried in the Blessed Warrior’s necropolis. Next to the royal family’s tombs in the City of the Dead, they were the only ones outside of the rulers allowed such a great honor to be entombed so close to the sacred Great Mound.

Okoye blinked away tears at the memory of her father being consoled at the funeral by King T’Chaka. Ramonda was near inconsolable, face veiled behind black lace. For the women attended the Dora Milaje Training Academy together before Mosa dropped out to pursue her path as a War Dog.

Barely in her early 20s and in her final phase of training for the Dora Milaje, Okoye nearly quit. The prospect of dying for her nation hit too close to home. It was her father who convinced her to go on, to not let her mother’s death rush her into a decision she’d regret. Glad for his usual prudent words, save a month plus a fortnight of leave, she earned her spear. All while coming second to no one in her class of inductees into the hallowed bodyguard.

She assumed she’d followed her mother’s footsteps to that end. Instead, she survived Shuri being taken and threatened by the water elf with nothing to show for it. Nothing save public humiliation and being traded into the enemy’s kingdom.

“I volunteered to marry to seal the treaty,” she whispered, “To show my loyalty remained to Wakanda and to avoid further war.”

Tanisko’s head whipped in her direction to observe her stiff shoulders. She couldn’t meet his eyes, staring at the planks of wood painted shimmering white.

“This will not do,” he fully moved to his feet.

“I can’t back out of the marriage!”

He adamantly shook his head. “I meant my daughter looking as though the world has ground her beneath its cruel heel.”

“Hasn’t it?”

She didn’t realize her tears spilled anew until her father flew to his feet and drew her into his arms before ushering her to sit next to him on the porch swing. “Oh, intombi yam encinci endiyithandayo [my dear little girl], come now, shed your tears,” he rubbed her head in comfort.

Okoye let herself fall.

The sun completely gone, the stars dotted the sky in an array of glittering light by the time she tearfully hiccupped her last. Her father said nothing but comforting words. There was no tone of reproach as he soon had her on her feet and back inside the house. Helping her settle into a chair at the kitchen table, he made dinner. She’d told him the entire story of how the treaty and political marriage came to be by the time he served her.

“As much as I wish it, there’s no stopping you from completing this arrangement?” Tanisko sadly questioned as he cleaned up. Okoye shook her head in agreement. “Will I at least get the meet this mysterious shark man before he thieves you away?” he gave her knee an affectionate squeeze where she sat next to him in the living room.

“If you wish.”

“I do.”

“it can be arranged,” Okoye sighed.

They talked more before Tanisko helped her to bed. Tucking her in with a kiss to her forehead, he sat by her bedside until she fell into a fitful sleep. Silently slipping from her room had him in deep thought before he fired off a message for a meeting with Shuri. For he refused to rest until he heard the full story of how his only child came to be dragged into this senseless tangle of supposed diplomacy.

Shuri all but ordered Okoye to take the next few days off. The general would have declined if not for the agonizing fact that she would get far less time to spend with her father once married. There was also wedding planning to do.

While the Queen and Tribal Council hadn’t ratified the treaty yet, Shuri assured her they would do so within days. "I know this because mother sent me the budget for your nuptials," Shuri's holographic image said over Okoye's kimoyo beads. Okoye nearly choked on her lunch at the massive amount of funds she then recited. "You can't decline it either," the Princess continued, "Your marriage is a state matter and therefore the state will be paying for and hosting it."

Well, at least that gave them a venue and had the food settled since the palace kitchens would handle it. So Okoye started ordering various other necessities. Her father assisted, taking excellent notes and helping compile the guest list.

Needing a break, Okoye grabbed a glass of water and wandered outside to her front porch. Except she almost dropped it to shatter to the ground at finding Attuma standing outside her front gate. Staring up at her home, he appeared utterly confused. Oddly enough, without his scythe or any other visible weapons despite wearing his armor and headdress.

She cursed under her breath as she rushed down the stairs. She didn’t miss the looks of shock and awe of various Wakandans going about their business. While her neighborhood wasn’t particularly crowded, she had no doubt word of the massive blue shark idiot loitering outside of her home would be spread across the township in this section of the capital by day’s end.

f*ck.

“What in the f*ck…why are you here?!” she hissed.

How she shoved open the tall gate carved of pale brown, petrified wood caught him across the middle. Attuma let out a startled “oomph!” at it slamming into his thick stomach. Okoye used his slight stumble to drag him inside her front yard as she frantically eyeballed the porch. Good, her father apparently hadn’t heard them.

“Get over here!” she frantically pointed around the edge of the house, “Follow me, you mindless rhino!”

“What is a ra’hine-hoe?” Attuma boomed out as he trailed in her wake.

“Keep your damn voice down!” she scowled.

He followed her to the backyard. It spilled down a gently sloping hill filled with aligned plots. Each held a different vegetable or flower planted in neat rows. Bordering the property line of the entire space were hedgerows containing various bright, tropical flowers. A pretty way to ensure privacy from neighbors. It also granted the air a sweet, comforting scent. Other homes surrounded hers in rambling, wide tracts of land. However, the line of sight from here was unobstructed due to sitting at the top of the knoll and close to the palace citidel.

He nearly bumped into her as she came to a standstill on the furthest corner of the land from the house. From here, her home could barely be seen above the tall rows of corn stalks.

“You cannot just show up to my home like this!” she furiously gestured around herself.

“Will it not be our home upon marriage?” Attuma asked with a furrowed brow.

“That’s besides the f*cking point!”

“How?”

Okoye muttered under her breath. Attuma’s kimoyo beads couldn’t pick up what he said. Then again, judging by her tone and riled expression, he could only assume it was curses he was unfamiliar with. Though these words of “f*ck” and “f*cking” seemed to be favorites of hers.

“How in Bast’s name did you even locate me?” she snapped.

Attuma grinned behind his rebreather and held up his left wrist with his kimoyo beads. “Your Princess Shuri of the Golden Tribe demonstrated how via this wonderous bracelet.”

Okoye shook her head in utter shock. “Why in the world would she do that?!”

“To allow me to return this,” he reached around to the back of his belt to unclip her collapsed Dora Milaje spear.

Okoye seized it out of his grip, about to activate it until she remembered maiming him would now cause an international incident. She instead settled for insult. “At least you know how to return stolen property,” she snarled as she clipped it on, “Congratulations to you.”

Attuma looked affronted. “I did not steal it-”

“Then why the fu…why do you have it?”

“I took it from you when you first entered Talokan in order to ensure you did not kill anyone.”

“My bare hands are plenty enough to render anyone lifeless,” Okoye spat, “Trust in that.” Her eyes darted to the back porch, relieved to find it still empty of her father.

“Ah, yes, I believe you, in watan,” he proudly replied.

“I am not your wife!”

“You will be by the new moon after next.”

“Which means I am currently not.”

“And I very much look forward to you being so. Trust in that.”

Okoye clutched her hands at her sides at how he tossed her words back at her. She refused to indulge how he openly ogled at her as she glared, “Well, now that you’ve returned my stolen property-”

“Not stolen,” he grimaced, “Retained for safekeeping until my ability to return it to you.”

“It’s returned,” she countered. Shoving past him, she kicked the back gate open and pointed for him to leave. “Now get out.”

Attuma clucked his tongue in irritation. “So quickly? We have barely begun to speak.”

Okoye let out a ragged exhale, still glowering. “We will have plenty of time for that after…the weddings. I’ve no desire for any of it right now.”

Attuma rolled his shoulders before he tossed back, “I also request the pearls I granted you while in Talokan.”

Okoye didn’t know why she felt so chagrined as she retreated from the gate. “Didn’t you insist it bad luck and a curse by the gods to take back a gift?”

He arched an amused brow. Well, she assumed it could be amused since it was hard to see through his mouth rebreather. “I only ask for them in order to incorporate them into an assortment of gifts,” he dismissively waved, “So it is not taking them back entirely. I am simply adding to their use.”

About to argue the point, it dawned on her that she had no right to. She’d shoved them into the bottom of one of the boxes she used to empty her old office when stripped of her position as general of the Dora Milaje. Why should she care about them in the first place?

“Stay here and don’t make a sound. I’ll go fetch them.”

Attuma did as instructed. Ignoring the suspicious looks of people passing the lane outside the gate, he leaned against the wide, lightly colored bark of the tree in her back yard. The delonix regia species of tree formed a massive, umbrella-like canopy of flaming red petals. They shaded nearly a quarter of the back yard. Feathery green leaves crisscrossed like lace where the flowers sprung from the branches. Their fresh green scent wafted pleasantly around him.

She returned and tossed the bag at him as she made her way to the bottom of the stairs. He easily snatched it out of the air. “I won’t be offended if you keep them,” she dryly said.

“I will be,” he pocketed them into his woven satchel slung across his broad chest, "But it will not matter since you will see them returned in a different form.”

She refused to show her intrigue. “You don’t have to give me things in some misguided attempt at seduction,” she wrinkled her nose.

"Except you are very seducible," Attuma smoothly replied, taking a small step forward.

Okoye blamed her need to not appear weak in front of him for why she refused to back away. No matter how she rapidly blinked. “GRIOT, that translation can’t be correct,” she finally scoffed. Her beads easily picked it up.

It is as close to what Attuma of Talokan describes in his language, Okoye.

Why did GRIOT sound so f*cking smug?!

Narrowing her eyes, Okoye sniffed. “I thought we agreed you had 13 days after the last wedding to…court me?”

His smirk made her want to slap him. “That is true. Yet that does not stipulate my being unable to court you as I would do if I looked to marry you under normal circ*mstances.”

“We’d never encounter each other normally,” Okoye retorted.

“Yet here we are,” Attuma shrugged, “Encountered. So I will court you before we are to be married…why do you continue to resist?”

Because I have no desire to be tricked into loving anyone ever again, her thoughts spun. She crossed her arms. “Because we’re already engaged. So why bother?”

“Why not bother?”

“Because you don’t have to-”

“I want to.”

“But you don’t-”

“I will,” Attuma hummed.

“If you keep this up with doing things I really and truly don’t wish to, this marriage will end with me murdering you,” Okoye grit her teeth, “And I’m guessing that would, I don’t know, violate the treaty and plunge us into war?”

She wasn’t expecting him to throw back his head and let out a peal of laughter. It boomed around them, causing Okoye to furtively glance around to ensure her neighbors or especially her father wouldn’t come rushing out to see what all the commotion was about. Everyone was still on edge due to the invasion.

Collecting himself, Attuma closed the space between them. Despite her having to crane her head upwards to fully take him in, she planted herself. “With you,” his voice fell temptingly low, “I assure you that I will only be stubborn when it comes to seeing you cherished.”

A shiver went through her. Though it wasn’t one of chilling fear. Rather, some underlying flare of promises she thought lost a long, long time ago. The sorts of poetic musings she once assumed lovers freely told each other. She was a silly child to believe it, even back then. Besides, who was she to receive such impassioned words? Only the selfish sorts expected all of this nonsense. No one could ever accuse her of putting herself first. Not especially now.

Okoye worried her lower lip with her teeth. Her eyes darted to how his own dropped to her motion. She immediately stopped the nervous tick as she cleared her throat.

“There’s nothing I can do to stop you, it seems.”

“No,” he replied, brokering no argument.

She firmly nodded, “So be it.” Before he could reply, she marched up the stairs. Upon reaching the top of them, she turned around. “You may leave whatever courting things you have on the front porch.”

“What if I wish to see you?” he tilted his head in question.

“Knock,” she huffed.

“What do you mean?” Attuma’s eyes widened in confusion, "What is this knocking thing?"

Okoye’s deep sigh could have been heard even without his enhanced hearing. She waved for him to come up the stairs and demonstrated. “Only do it at most three times. If there is no answer, no one is at home. Come back later.”

“I can wait-”

“Come back later,” she emphasized, “Not the same day either. That is considered rude.”

“Is it rude to wish to see my betrothed?”

“If your betrothed is very busy with other necessary duties? Yes.”

“A pity.”

“Just for you.”

He laughed again. Okoye swiftly realized it apparently came easy to him as he pulled out a large, speckled conch shell from his satchel. After explaining how she could use it to contact him by blowing into it and then leaving it in a body of water connected to any ocean, he bid her goodbye.

She didn’t move from the yard until he disappeared down the hill. All the better to ensure he didn’t lurk around.

The gifts immediately began the next day.

An exquisitely carved obsidian knife, its dusky blue vibranium hilt inlaid with a finely hewn layer of jade came first. Okoye couldn’t interpret the delicate Mayan glyphs pressed into its golden cross-guard. She had the distinct impression Attuma wished her to ask him what they meant.

Next, a scarf easily large enough for her to wear as a wrap around her entire body. The color sunny yellow, its border contained green swirls interwoven with rectangular patterns of black and white. Holding it up to the light revealed its gossamer thin weave. Yet it didn’t tear as Okoye pulled at it. She suspected it was threaded through with weavings of vibranium. At the same time, it granted solid warmth as she folded it in layers and draped it around herself. Along its edges were sewn terracotta-colored tassels containing gold beading.

A pair of bright white, cylindrical, clay cups with polished, algae colored ceramic lining their insides. Criss-crossing Mayan glyphs in azure and orange lined the exterior rim and bottom of them. Within each sat a woven, light brown pouch. One contained sweet smelling dried herbs and flowers that were a relaxing tea blend. The other, an array of seedlings.

A serpentine coil of a bracelet long enough to also be worn as a necklace. Braided of intricate layers of some sort of shadowy grey leather (sharkskin, perhaps?), both its ends were weighted with heavy gold pendants. One appeared to be a quarter moon, the other, a stylized sun. Beaded within the braids were iridescent, smooth round stones of black and cayenne colored vibranium.

A blend of pragmatism and flawless craftsmanship, the gifts never failed to prove useful.

With them brought Attuma’s presence to her door nearly daily. She couldn’t deny he took instruction well; save for pounding at the door hard enough to send it shaking, his flurry of knocking never lasted more than three rounds. She’d yank it open to be greeted by the Talokanil salute. Roving eyes followed before he held up his latest offering. He always insisted she open it in his presence, which made it impossible for her to hide her reactions.

At least he never brought her anything remotely disappointing.

Even when he learned her patterns and knew she wasn’t at home (which was during most of the day due to her hiding out in Shuri’s lab), he still arrived and faced her father. Better to be on the receiving end of Tanisko alternating between an incensed glare and utter confusion than not show his bride to be that he proved serious in his courtship. As far as Attuma was concerned, her father witnessing his efforts only improved his pursuit. For he could show her entire family how he valued his warrior.

The first few times, Tanisko silently regarded him before taking the gift. A curt assurance that he would pass it on to his daughter was swiftly followed by the door closing with a thud. By the middle of the third week, Tanisko nearly did the same without interruption.

Except Attuma loudly declared, "You find me deeply unpleasant.”

"Why would I find you anything but?" Tanisko tossed back without hesitation, "You're stealing my daughter from her peace of mind in this pitiful excuse for a treaty after you and yours forced your way into our kingdom."

“That is not how it fully occurred-”

Tanisko held up a hand of warning. “We will never agree on what brought your kind here. So I’d rather not discuss that which will never be settled.”

Attuma let out a low noise of irritation. Tanisko did not waver, still staring at him. Rocking back on his heels for a long moment, the Talokanil general announced, “I wish to speak to you openly about your daughter.”

Tanisko narrowed his eyes with suspicion. “Whatever you have to say can be said in her presence."

“I will not speak ill of her, I assure you,” he raised a large hand. “I would like to discuss whatever you wish to put you at ease that she will be taken care of as she deserves.”

“And what exactly does she deserve, shark?” Tanisko replied in warning.

“All that is good in both our worlds.”

How he said it so decisively caused the older man to still. Sweeping his blue and white patterned cape of the Border tribe around his shoulders, he finally walked down the stairs. With a silent wave, he gestured for Attuma to follow him around the side of the house. They ended up in the backyard.

"This is a well-situated abode" Attuma said as he took in the view while leaning on the gate.

"Why wouldn't it be? My daughter was the general of the sacred royal bodyguard. The best seen in many generations," Tanisko proudly replied. "Well, until she encountered you and your attempts to kill a curious child she was only trying to save while also protecting our princess," Tanisko bristled.

Attuma whipped his head around to stare at the other man who stiffly stood at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the veranda. Despite his age, he stood tall, shoulders squared.

"You mean the little scientist who created the machine encroaching on our realm?" Attuma scowled. "She is fortunate Aj K’uk’ulkan allowed her to keep her life. She deserves less."

Tanisko let out a bitter laugh. "You sound no better than the colonizers who enslaved her ancestors of The Lost Tribe. Even now, they continue to make her kind and their lives so deadly to this day."

"Pardon me?!"

"I don't recall stuttering, fish man."

"Nevertheless, she-"

"Is barely a woman full grown and was deceived by colonizers who sold off her machine to their government for use against you without her consent. They didn't even compensate her. Yet you all tried to murder her." With that, Tanisko launched into his daughter’s explanation of how it all occurred.

Attuma stood shocked. "This…this cannot be the full truth," he muttered.

"So you call my daughter, your future wife, a liar?" Tanisko's voice dropped.

"I did not-"

“Or perhaps you consider Princess Shuri one as well?” At Attuma’s near snarl, Tanisko didn’t flinch despite how he balled a fist into the thick fabric of his cape.

“Ah, yes, I spoke to the Princess for quite some time on what transpired while your king held all the women prisoner in his drowned kingdom. It’s fascinating how stories appear so different from various perspectives.” He picked a stray piece of lint from his patterned trousers and dismissively flicked it away. “No matter that you people kept them mostly separated from each other, Okoye’s and the Princess’ tale sound eerily similar.”

Attuma gripped a plank of the gate so hard that the sound of it beginning to splinter filled the air. Tanisko’s gaze darted to his curled fist steadily closing around it before the general rasped, “The little scientist never told me of any of this.”

"Because none of you fish people bothered to f*cking ask," Tanisko hissed. "You made assumptions and declared her life forfeit with no evidence of how any of what she did came to be. Now, the very person who tried to kill that brilliant young woman is taking my baby girl. 'You find me deeply unpleasant,'" he mocked Attuma's earlier words, "No. I find you and your ilk repugnant."

Attuma forced himself to bite back a growl as Tanisko dropped to sit on the veranda steps. Okoye's father curled his lip with derision at the general while he clutched his hands to his knees.

Attuma inwardly reeled at these new revelations. He despised politics and loved to serve his blessed king. It kept things simple and ensured his happiness. Aj K’uk’ulkan never failed him or the kingdom. Their only worries came from outsiders disrupting their seas, polluting their environment and greedily seeking vibranium as of late. Hence his orders to kill the scientist went unquestioned.

Perhaps he needed to seek more explanation from the king. He found his future surface dweller wife bewitching after all. Now, he could no longer afford to care only for his own people.

"The treaty will draw our kingdoms closer," Attuma vowed, "Perhaps your disdain will lessen since I will now be your family."

Tanisko shook his head to the contrary. "Treaty or not, my feelings on you are in relation to how you treat Okoye. You lay anything but a loving hand on my daughter, I will kill you," he flatly declared. "Even if the rumors are that your kind can't be, I will find a way."

Attuma slightly turned to take in the old man's burning gaze. That they were father and daughter was unmistakable with his current expression. Attuma's mind reeled back to his betrothed driving her spear into the bridge in obvious threat before she soundly beat his three warriors despite them attacking her all at once.

He slowly nodded, "We can be killed."

"I'm not the only one who would do it for her either," Tanisko wrinkled his nose, "Not by far."

"I understand you perfectly." Attuma rumbled.

Tanisko jerked his head in silent reply before adding, "Physical retribution isn't the only way to harm. Her ex-husband-"

"Is a traitor," the Talonakil general sneered. At her father's startled look, he continued, "Those vicious eels of your Tribal Council sought to bring her low by announcing it during our audience with your formidable queen. I did not take kindly to their attempted humiliation. I made that verbally known with my own warnings against them."

"You barely know her," Tanisko sniffed.

"I know enough to defend her when necessary. What more is there to do?"

Tanisko's brows shot up in surprise. "Well," he cleared his throat, "That is…a steady opinion."

"She is in no way to blame for his repugnant actions."

Tanisko rolled his eyes. "If only everyone else realized that," he retorted with resignation.

"Yes. If only," Attuma let out mirthless chuckle. "Most people are cowards when true defense is necessary. Your daughter proves completely opposite of that. She is therefore my equal."

Tanisko shrugged. "Pretty words, fish man. And what will happen when she's living with you and surrounded by your people? Isolated and without the familiar faces of her homeland?"

"The same that will happen to me when I'm living with her here, above the waves," Attuma quietly retorted. "We will walk our pathway through it. Together."

Tense silence fell between them. After what seemed an eternity, Tanisko moved to his feet while eying his future son-in-law. "Do you people have normal mouths under those funny face masks of yours?"

"What do speak of?" Attuma balked.

"Do you fish people eat food?"

Attuma arched a brow. "Of course we do."

"Don't get testy," Tanisko huffed, "I'm not getting accused of poisoning you when I invite you into our kitchen." At Attuma's confused stare, he rolled his eyes in the exact same fashion as Okoye did before he waved in the direction of the doorway back inside the house. "C'mon then, are you hungry or not?" At Attuma's silent nod, he continued, "I'm not going to repeat myself. Not especially to you, boy. Follow me."

Attuma couldn't help his smirk. Apparently, village elders here were rather similar to back home. With that, he trailed Tanisko inside.

Well, at least this land's food tasted delicious. He wouldn't argue that.

The courting gifts and Attuma continued arriving to Okoye's doorstep. All while she pushed on planning this potential disaster of a wedding. Though she was grateful for Shuri, Aneka and now Nakia doing most of the heavy lifting in that regard. Nonetheless, she still barely spoke to her future husband.

With just under three weeks to go until their first set of nuptials, she determined that perhaps a certain activity could be distracting enough for them to have a full conversation for once.

She stealthily made her way to a desolate part of the riverfront on the outskirts of the Golden City. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and sent up a prayer to Bast for whatever insanity she was about to unleash.

Pulling the conch shell from her satchel, she blew on it before placing it in the river, just as Attuma instructed. She had no idea how long it’d take for him to appear. Shuri explained how the Talokanil used their vibranium tech to activate water currents to travel at extraordinary speeds. They served as the equivalent of superhighways for them. At the same time, the Puerto Rican trench where their kingdom was located lay across oceans and over 10,000 kilometers from Wakanda. With the country landlocked, the only way in was via rivers.

She sat on the hard packed mud and sandy ground with her knees drawn up to her chest. She was slightly chilly, clad only in dark blue leggings with swooping gold and white accents that matched her sports bra under her black tank top. The cold was temporary on account of sunrise roughly only an hour away. The only sounds near the bush were the chirping of the birds and the occasional whisper of the grasslands.

All she could do was wait.

The sun finally freeing itself over the horizon brought with it Attuma rising from the river. He broke its surface with predatory grace. Water streamed down his immense form, shimmering with the golden pink and orange of the glittering dawn.

It’d never occurred to Okoye that such a sight could prove malevolently beautiful. She found herself oddly breathless at how he glided out of the soft, lapping waves with barely a sound.

That combined with their undetectable vibranium armor and weapons certainly explained how they all stealth attacked the River tribesmen. Along with the way Namor surprised the Queen and Shuri on the riverbank. It felt like an age since first contact with these people who Wakanda would now be tied to forever. And she would be her homeland's first sacrifice towards the alliance.

The rhino and the shark.

Shaking her head to clear it, Okoye jumped to her feet and snatched up the two vibranium practice staffs she brought with her.

She took in how Attuma wore his usual headdress, armor and rebreathers. He held his scythe with an assured hand as he approached to stand only a few feet from her. Looking her over in his usual intense appraisal, he dipped his head in a slight bow.

“What does my betrothed wish of me?” he asked. It wasn’t laced with irritation nor with any sort of malice. A genuine question filled with expectation as he pounded the bottom of his scythe on the ground.

Attuma now wore a fully working version of the kimoyo beads Shuri whipped up for use in his nation. It contained an upgraded translator. Which meant the AI could now pull together translations that sounded like the speaker’s real voice. It made conversation far more personal than hearing GRIOT flatly dictating between them. The AI also put an accent on his translation of how he’d likely sound if he was speaking Xhosa. It made communication virtually flawless, save for idioms or specific cultural concepts.

Okoye stared at him, momentarily distracted by the drops of water trailing down the heavy dips and hollows of his thickly muscled, cerulean skin and pooling at his feet. She finally huffed, “Do you always wear your headdress and armor?”

Attuma arched a brow. Okoye didn’t know if it was one of amusem*nt or something else entirely. “The only time I come to the surface is for war,” he shrugged.

She stiffened. “Even when your future bride summons you?”

“I have not had a previous bride. So I did not know what to expect when called.” Okoye had the distinct impression that he mocked her as he abruptly took a deep bow with the Talokanil salute. “Forgive me, yatan je'el bix tu ya'alaj ti' le eek'o'obo' [wife as said in the stars], I should have assumed peace from you.”

Her translator only managed to pick up the words “wife” and “stars.”

"I'm not your wife yet-"

"You will be, rather soon."

"How fortunate for me," she rolled her eyes.

"Yes. Our nations' most skilled generals united as one. How fortunate for us both."

"You don't say?"

"I do say."

Damn those rebreathers. It made it nearly impossible to tell his full expression. She could only assume his dark gaze was alight with irritating mirth as he shrugged those impossibly broad shoulders of his.

Okoye let out a snort and tossed him a practice staff. “You said you wish to spar,” she declared as Attuma easily caught it in his hand without dropping his scythe in the other, “So let us spar.”

His face lit up like a child receiving a new gift. As he carefully laid his scythe on the ground behind him, Okoye ignored how his back muscles flexed with his actions. He began pacing back and forth while swinging the staff through the air to test its weight

She had an abrupt, unnerving flashback to how he whipped her spear through the air after he dislocated her shoulder against his scythe on the bridge. She still had no idea what he said before he tried to kill her. That didn’t stop his tone from being filled with insulting threat as he arrogantly shrugged down at her. The only reason she was alive was due to the lucky technological advancement of her spear being able to be shocked out of his hand with her kimoyo beads. She had no doubt he'd have killed her otherwise.

She felt her stomach twist as she almost dry heaved at visceral recollection of being so close to death. Her heartbeat roaring in her ears, the sides of her vision started to darken.

No! her jumbled thoughts raced as she struggled to contain her breathing, Stop this madness and get it together!

Attuma jerked his head upwards at her. His senses piqued at the sudden thundering of her heart. Her breathing increasingly erratic, her scent subtly changed as well. Definitely to rising distress. She also couldn't easily meet his gaze as she usually did as she tensed across from him.

He stalked forward and implored, "Do you fare well?"

Okoye stumbled backwards from him, feet threatening to slip on the shore. "That's none of your concern," she strangled out, shoving away his attempted grasp at her wrist with an awkward flick of her fingers.

"You are to be my wife," he stilled, "Your well-being is my highest duty now."

Okoye shot him a withering look as she finally managed to plant her feet. "I doubt Namor would agree with that. Aren't you supposed to be loyal to your precious God King first?"

"You purposely twist my intent-"

"Did I lie?"

"You haven't answered me of how you truly feel."

Okoye curled her lip with derision as her eyes tracked his hand that held the practice staff. "Well, since I'm still not your wife yet, no need for you to care yet."

Attuma rolled his eyes. "Are you always this difficult, woman?"

Her vicious smile caused his blood to heat. She really had no right to look this pretty while being like this.

"Oh, you have no idea how deeply wearisome I can be."

She didn't expect his guffaw of laughter. It sounded surprisingly normal as he pounded the end of his staff to the ground. "I look forward to it. At least our coupling will never be tediously boring…why does this lack a spearpoint?" he looked at the staff in confusion.

He wasn't forgetting her odd state, he'd address it later. Perhaps after her wore her down with their sparring. Her current stubbornness would get him nowhere at the moment.

Okoye shook her head in disagreement as she whirled her own through the air. "I don't wish to be tempted into murdering my intended."

"You are amusing, warrior," Attuma lightly chuckled with a roll of his shoulders.

Her gaze hardened. "Who said I was joking?"

"Not exactly an auspicious way to begin a life-bond," he retorted, velvety black eyes narrowing.

She began circling him. She immediately noted how he didn’t allow her to get behind him. "Nothing is auspicious about a political marriage forced by your king."

"It is an alliance-"

"That he threatened to murder our fellow tribesmen over."

Attuma grunted in disagreement. “Your people killed one of our warriors, surface dweller.”

Crouching down in anticipation of his first strike, Okoye shot back, “After you kept us prisoners and threatened to kill an innocent girl. I make no apologies.”

Attuma’s dark gaze burned. “Nor I for our impending nuptials, warrior. Out of pain and bitterness for how your kind left us, our countries shall grow strong and prosper. As you can see,” he impudently pointed the end of his staff at her, “It turned out a blessed opportunity. Let us speak of this no more, for what is written in stone cannot be unmade.”

“So stop your prattling and attack,” Okoye snarled.

He moved like lightning. In any other circ*mstance, she’d almost giddily admire how one of his size maintained that speed while striking out. She couldn't deny it touched something deep inside her. Raw power combined with his swift agility spoke of thousands of hours honed perfecting his skills. Trying to break through his defenses would prove a worthy challenge.

He had her on the defensive, she freely admitted that. But knowing what to expect now meant she didn’t have to suppress nearly as much fear as the first time they crossed weapons. Dancing backwards avoided his frenzied swings and allowed her to conserve her energy until he began to falter. It still took a hell of a long time for him to start getting sloppy.

His swings slipping to less precise, she rocked back on her left foot and powered forward directly into him. Going low to avoid his long reach worked just as well here as it did in their initial fight.

She assumed that due to how he likely won skirmishes in a manner of seconds, he wasn’t used to opponents going for his lower body. Nor were they skilled enough to wait him out before defense breaking him. She did just that.

Rapid, sharp shots to his shins caused him to hastily retreat. Except she proved faster and lither, rushing forward for a fierce grouping of melee attacks that had him staggering backwards even more. A duo of hits disarmed him. As his staff went flying from his grip, he let out a winded breath.

Attuma’s heart raced at the feel of the edge of her staff poking into his chest. Were it it real spear and if they fought as enemies, he had no doubt she’d drive it through him with no hesitation.

“You fight with the menace of flames ripping though the hulls of ships I’ve destroyed, ko'olelo' le k'áak'o' [lady of fire].

“An odd compliment,” she replied as she pulled her weapon away and nodded for him to retrieve his own.

“It’s an intoxicating sight, seeing the labors of your enemies so utterly destroyed,” he proudly declared.

Okoye allowed herself a grin. “I can’t argue that.”

“You comprehend this to your core,” Attuma picked up his staff, “But of course you do, warrior divine-”

“I am not-”

“To me you are,” he waved away her disagreement before whipping his staff through the air. How his gaze swept over her caused her face to run hot. “Come, we spar again,” he announced before he twirled into an attack.

They kept up their deadly dance. Back and forth, they pushed, either disarming or sending each other to the ground. Always demanding another round as they circled closer and closer to each other. Before long, they’d locked staffs. Nearly nose to nose, they both strained to slide their staffs apart from their grips against other’s torso as fatigue began to settle in.

She was too close to get enough leverage to knee him in the groin. Regardless, he’d somehow managed to slide his hand down and off the bottom of his weapon. It allowed him to seize her just above the knee. Digging his fingers into the tender skin at the back of it sent numbness shooting up her nerves as heheaved her leg upwards

Heat sizzled up Okoye’s spine at the heady grip of his large palm. No matter the protection of her leggings, it was as though his contact burned the vibranium infused fabric away. How his velvety eyes snapped down to her mouth and the way his shoulders heaved up against her didn’t help her dazed reaction.

Adrenaline shoving her back into the present had her wrenching her staff from against him. It didn’t save her from losing her balance as he hauled her in flush to him. Attuma simply flung his weapon aside and snatched her around the middle. It caused Okoye to get tossed to her back and fall under him. Her staff fell from her hands in the fracas.

However, a quick shift in her body weight and how she locked her legs around his thick waist allowed her to get the leverage she needed to roll him to his back. Yet what he momentarily lacked in the finesse he made up with in sheer strength.

Wrenching an arm behind her let him use his hips’ momentum to flip her so he bearhugged her from behind. By the time they stopped rolling toward the shoreline, he crashed under with her back to his chest.

Before she could react, he snatched up a practice staff and lightly pressed it across her throat with his hands on either end of it to hold it in place. She’d instinctively wrapped both her legs around one of his massive ones to lock him in place. It also meant that she could feel every hard ridge of muscle under his fiery, soft skin at her back. Especially since her tank top runched up to the bottom edge of her sports bra.

Attuma’s grunt reverberated through her ribs. “I would crush your windpipe if were fighting as enemies,” his voice caressed her ear. Breathy and low, it warmed her into a shiver.

“A pity I’d take you with me,” she retorted as she dug the point of one of her knives into his thigh. His gasp cut across her neck. “A slice of your femoral artery,” she dragged its honed point along his thigh to trace its path, "And you bleed out in the matter of minutes,” she punctuated her last words with a press of the flat of her blade to his skin.

She couldn’t miss how he shuddered under her. His groan echoed around her as she did an experimental squeeze of her thighs around his.

Attuma sounded breathless despite his retort of, “Is that the knife I gifted you?”

“Maybe,” Okoye cheekily replied.

“The obsidian of its blade is unmistakable,” he replied, “That does not mean I will yield.”

“Then we’ve killed each other,” Okoye countered, “How embarrassing that I’ve done you in with your own weapon,” she airily said.

“That is clever rather than humiliating,” he murmured. “May our ancestors welcome us home. A draw it is then?” he lightly raised his staff from her.

“A draw,” she hummed.

Attuma agreed, though he didn’t move. Not even as Okoye withdrew her dagger and shoved it back into a hidden holster at the rear waist of her leggings. Her motions meant her hand had to brush against his stomach. His abs clenched under her fingertips as he let out a sharp huff.

“We should get to our feet,” he tightly declared. No matter how one of his free arms dropped across her stomach.

Okoye jerked against his hold across her. Not from fear. Not as her brain lit up at the stimulation of how his other fingers skimmed down her side, stopping every so often to press into her. She refused to let herself go lightheaded as she retorted, “You get to your feet first.”

“You have me locked under you,” he tossed back.

“I’m sure you’d be able to find a way out of it if you wished to,” she dryly said.

“Same to you,” he retorted. However, he slowly lifted his arm up off of her.

Okoye took far longer than she liked to get to her feet. She nearly missed Attuma tossing her back one of the practice staffs. Eying him as she caught it, she frowned at his lack of reaction at what’d passed between them. He appeared thoroughly bored as he started circling around her. Ignoring the dampness threatening to make itself known between her thighs, she began doing the same to him, refusing to let him come at her from behind.

Attuma hoped his hardening co*ck wasn’t noticeable against his briefs under his loincloth. Her squirming on top of him combined with how utterly natural she felt hemmed in against him certainly left a lasting impression. She stared in annoyance at him with her mouth curled downward. Narrowing her eyes, she jerked head for him to attack. Blood fiery in his veins, he thrust his staff to her side as he darted towards her.

Okoye was right; even without any sense of danger like on the bridge, he was her fiercest face to face opponent to date. No one that sturdy should be able to haul themselves around this fast. Logically, she assumed being on land and moving through the significantly lighter air pressure versus water meant his conditioning considerably beat hers. Then again, he required rebreathers where she didn't.

She wasn’t going to use it as an excuse. It just meant she had to be more tactical. Her mind sparked with challenge. Everything narrowed down to tracking his movements for openings. Every opponent could be beaten. It was simply figuring out the how and why of it all.

Sure, his speed played a massive advantage. Nonetheless, it also meant he depended on brute strength versus finesse. He also fought using his other arm to menacingly swipe at her. A distraction intended to intimidate versus actually render injury. He only seemed to snatch at her staff rather than punching her up.

She sent him to the ground with multiple whacks to his inner and back of his knees as he whipped a hand out to grab at the end of her staff yet again. A feint to lure him closer caused his momentum to tilt forward. Being off balance allowed her to strike so precisely.

He yielded with a silent raise of his hands from where he looked up at her on his back. She paused before offering him her own hand to heft him back to his feet. She didn’t pull away as his grip lingered against hers before he retreated.

“Again,” he ordered.

Her smile lit up his world as she rocked into fighting stance. “With pleasure,” she tossed back.

“Your pleasures will be all mine,” he rumbled, “That I can promise you, Okoye.”

He used how she faltered at his bold words, eyes wide, to aim a flurry of strikes at her. She darted back to circle a wide berth around him to avoid his reach. He still bore down on her until she whirled her staff around her neck in a furious display of defense. It sent him reeling away as she then snatched the staff in both hands and stabbed it at his side. The blow glanced off of him as he shifted his hips away at the last minute. Since she didn’t strike true, she over extended her reach.

She went flying to the ground with his wide counterswing. Thankfully, the years of experience allowed her to instinctively go into a protective roll and take only a minor bit of bruising. Landing on her side had her hearing his swift approach. Darting away, she narrowly missed being whacked in the stomach.

Racing to her feet, she twisted around but didn’t find him behind her as expected. Instead, his hand wrapped around her neck from the front. It caused her to whip her head around to face his impertinent stare.

She should have recoiled with fear. Or punched him in the face to break his nose while using her other fist to chop down on his vulnerable inner elbow, forcing him to reflexively unhand her. Yet how the calloused pad of his thumb immediately began its gentle sweep up and down the tendon on the side of her neck stopped her. His large palm against her throat burned warm and heavy with implication.

She didn't know why her free hand was so slow to grab his wrist as he slightly tightened his grip to haul her forward. He didn’t hold her anywhere near hard enough to cut off her airflow. Nonetheless, anything could happen in the next few seconds. Especially as he tilted his head at her in that usual irritating way of his.

"You could snap my neck," she firmly declared, her questioning gaze never leaving his flinty obsidian one.

His thumb briefly pressed into her skin as he casually shrugged, "I could."

She just made out the barest hint of a smirk under his rebreather. Deliberately closing the gap between them, she didn’t stop until she stood flush against him.

Did his pupils suddenly dilate?

"That would violate the treaty," she arched a brow, "Along with our marriage agreement within it."

"It would," he murmured. His solid chest heaved against hers as his eyes swept her face.

It made all the sense in the world to be terrified at her current and incredibly vulnerable position. She wasn't though. Not with the mindless way his thumb continued caressing her skin. It forced her to swallow down a rising moan at the maddening feel of it tracing in random patterns. He'd also dropped his staff into the sandy, baked mud of the riverbank.

She'd never been this close to him for this long before today. He smelled of the sea. Brackish and damp but also with an underlying fresh greenery and airy, citrusy flowers. Nothing like it had ever crossed her nose. It made her mind think of a cool but comforting stream of water rushing over her. His hand on her throat a warm weight, his chest seeped warmth through her.

When did his free hand move to rest along her hip?

"You would move out of this if you wished to," his modulated voice rang out from behind his rebreather. He teased her, throwing back her words at her when she lay on top of him. "Easily," he added with a hum. Leaning down, the rebreather brushed against her ear at the same time his hand on her neck gripped a tick more. "The question is, warrior," his words rumbled out in a melodic fashion, "Why haven't you yet?"

"If I couldn't, would you still strangle me?" she retorted.

He immediately scoffed. "Why do you ask such a dark thing?" She took in how insulted he sounded. Perhaps even hurt. Turning to face her, his rebreather nearly touched her lips. "Once we are united, it is my duty to protect you from all harm, both above and below the oceans."

Her heart pounded in her chest at how easily he laid it out. He'd been doing so from the beginning.

"And what of love?" she murmured, eyes never leaving his.

His face softened, even as his hand to her neck remained. "I could love you as easily as I breathe beneath the surface," he declared with no hesitation. His thumb moved to her jaw, lightly tilting her head upwards to meet his lips despite his rebreather still in place.

Okoye's stomach churned. She couldn't decide if it was due to hope or trepidation.

“I was married before-”

“That is known,” Attuma sharply retorted. He immediately unhanded her and backed away to grab his staff. Whirling it through the air, he snorted, “You said it ceased and is severed. I therefore do not care about it and there is no need to mention it again.”

Okoye shot back, “Even if it means I’ll never love you?”

He stiffened before his shoulders heaved. Whirling on her, he let out a heavy grunt. “Do you still love him?” he growled, hand tightening around his weapon.

How in the f*ck can I when he drove a knife so deep through my heart with his betrayal that it won't ever be mended?!

“No,” she finally answered, "Not at all. Not anymore. Not for…years now."

Her voice nearly hitched on the words. She’d never said it so dramatically out loud. Now here she stood admitting it to a complete stranger. Not just a stranger, but her enemy who caused her downfall in the eyes of her people. Someone set to be her husband in merely a fortnight.

She was so preoccupied with her thoughts that she didn’t pay attention how he swiftly moved to stand directly in front of her. Another reminder of how silently he moved despite his size. She didn't have time to register how his hand cupped the side of her face as he murmured, "You think you can't feel for anyone as you did him," he snorted, "But is it will not? Or can not?"

"You will not force me into anything, shark," she shot back.

His smirk made her want to run him though. "Who said anything of force? There are a multitude of ways to compel another."

"If you think you will ever-"

"Nothing is irreparable with the proper motivations," he slightly gripped her chin to stop her from looking away, "Not especially when it comes to you, warrior."

"You don't know that," she hissed as she slapped his hand away and backed off from him, "And it's not your job to fix me. I don't need you…I don’t need anyone!"

"You aren't a solitary sort-"

"Why do you always speak in f*cking riddles?!"

"Why can you not accept someone wishes you for a wife outside of the politics of it all?" he snapped.

She pointed the edge of her staff at his throat. "At least I live reality and accept my limitations!"

"You've lost your fire, yes. Still, do not act as though it cannot be stoked again." Okoye opened her mouth in protest but he barreled forward. "When did you forget you are limitless? For our little tussle on the bridge clearly proved it, considering you survived against me," he proudly beat his chest.

Gawking at him for a long moment, she waved him away. "You're ridiculous."

"You require lessons in discipline," he fervently declared.

Okoye ignored his low rumble combined with how he hungrily took her in caused her skin to tingle. "Excuse me?!" she balked as he retreated, "I am arguably the most disciplined person of the court."

Attuma shook his head to the contrary, gaze boring into hers. "You misunderstand. You require discipline when it comes to not treating yourself so poorly, in Eek'e' yax tun."

She curled her lip with derision, "I am not your jade star-"

"This is exactly what I speak of," Attuma stalked towards her. Okoye scrambled backwards until she remembered herself. Standing fast, she thumped her practice staff against his chest as he stopped to stare her down. "I call you something precious. Yet you deny yourself that as easily as you breath. That will stop once our binding takes place, in ba'ate'el.”

She stiffened as his gaze searched her face. She would have taken a step backward if not for her pride. "You will not force me to love you," she snarled.

"And I will not allow you to refuse me all chances to prove myself to you. Look at you, in Eek'e' yax tun," he huffed, "You cannot take a single sweet word without fleeing from it. That is no way to live, to breathe, to exist beneath this sun," he pointed skywards.

"Your allegedly sweet words mean nothing to me, shark," she tossed back, rocking back on her heels. "You are my enemy who I signed a contract not to kill. That is the only reason you stand alive right now."

"Again, our marriage negotiations make us allies-"

"You tried to kill me on that bridge!" she exclaimed.

"As you did me," Attuma shrugged. "There is nothing to forgive, for we both undertook our duties. I hold none of that over you and never did."

"I…" Okoye trailed off, expecting him to blame her for the fight. Or hate her for crossing weapons with him. Instead, he looked at her without a hint of anger. His entire demeanor remained calm.

He yanked her staff out of her hands and tossed it away so fast that she didn't have time to react as he then pressed his warm palm to her collarbone. "What has turned your heart to such ice? “he murmured, "What must I do to make it beat anew once more for you?"

Okoye's lips trembled before she shoved him away. "Don't do that," she hissed.

"Do what?"

"Act as though I'm some prize you've won and now you must figure out how to open and be kind to me. What, so you can f*ck me?"

His palms seemed to burn on her shoulders as he dropped them to meet her.

"What I experienced on that bridge caused my heart to sing and my mind to wish to engage with yours until the end of my days." Okoye held back a gasp as Attuma's fingertip swept the scar on his cheek.

Her mouth twisted with disbelief before she muttered, "Was that before or after you hip-checked that infernal water bomb into me?" She was once again caught off guard at hearing his laugh. It was oddly sing-songy despite its pitched depth. "I certainly didn't find it amusing!" she shrugged off one of his hands on her shoulders.

He took her other hand in his and shook his head. "I will not apologize. We were enemies. However, I swear that I will do no such thing ever again," he briefly pressed his forehead to hers.

She refused to admit out loud how his gesture slightly calmed her anger. She retorted, "Yet you laughed."

"You did not understand what Namora said before she tossed it," he lightly chuckled, "She commanded me to stop playing around only for me to toss the bomb at you using a common move in a ball game of my people known as Pok-A-Tok…again, I swear to never do such a thing at your expense," he squeezed her hand for emphasis.

Well, at least he proved honest.

And it was a darkly funny move for him to do.

"You will be my other half," he continued, "So you see why, in your throne room, my eyes stung at how so very few respected my equal. They way so many of them did not appreciate the truth of how your brave surface princess avoided further conflict by sacrificing herself to speak to my god and king. Despite that, your people expected you to bear all their burdens with no reward."

Okoye couldn't hold his dark gaze. She had to look away, anger starting to blossom at the fact that what he spoke was true. And for it to all happen publicly. The sheer humiliation churned in her gut, threatening to send up her breakfast at the memory of it. Just as it did after Shuri led her out the throne room the day that it all happened.

Attuma pulled her into him. She stiffened but made no attempt to extradite herself from his grip. She instead craned her neck upwards to fully take him in.

"In my heart," he tapped his chest with his other fingers, "I knew you required protection. Along with kindness to yourself despite those most grievous weapons of words swung at you. So you see why," he leaned down and rasped against her ear, "I do not take kindly to any insulting my equal. Not even when she does so to herself."

Okoye's sharp inhale had him furrowing his brows. His grip tightened as he felt her nearly stumble. As she caught her breath, Attuma shook his head and let go of her.

"No matter that this union has come about via political means, I do not regret offering myself into your hands. Love may grow, if one is open to it. And I swear upon my ancestors that I am."

Okoye’s thoughts swam at his admission. Her years in her duties granted her an uncanny ability to read people. Knowing them often better than they knew themselves. She felt no deception coming from him. He gave her nothing but blunt words tinged with a fervent, almost compulsory need to be truthful with her?

Her doubts still clawed at her. Promises couldn’t erase her own experiences.

"You don't even know me-"

"But I wish to since you are beyond worthy to be my wife, Okoye…may I kiss you?”

She wasn’t expecting how quietly he asked his question. Nor how he looked away from her while doing it. He looked…abashed?

Shoving that thought to the back of her mind, she crossed her arms. “Is it not bad luck to kiss so soon before the wedding?"

How Attuma's black brows skyrocketed in utter confusion should’ve made her laugh in any other circ*mstance. The quizzical tilt of his head made it funnier. Okoye thanked Bast for her years at court in training her on how to maintain a myriad of neutral facial expressions.

“We do not have this in our culture,” he huffed, “Couples court in order to…” Okoye watched his rebreather stretch as his mouth slowly moved around a string of Yucatec Mayan words that clearly didn’t have an exact translation. It came out in her beads as, “Compatible in all ways of sexual, spiritual and personality intercourse.”

She was glad her deep, golden brown skin showed no sign of blushing. Especially as his dusky gaze raked over her. Where she should have been offended, she felt a fiery spark coil deep in the pit of her stomach. Mostly since he didn’t linger over any specific body part. Rather, he swept his eyes along her before focusing on her face for a long moment. His split-second grin before his expression went back to solemn added to it.

Riri called his default expression resting bitch face. Understandable, considering he did try to kill her and it was said during their capture in Talokan.

“The special circ*mstances of our marriage unfortunately do not allow for us to properly court for an extended period of time,” he continued, snapping Okoye’s thoughts back to the present. Along with the fact that he’d silently moved closer to where she stood. He was nearly flush against her now. “So I wish to kiss you. Only if you permit it.”

Okoye narrowed her eyes, even as she nervously swallowed. “And if I do not agree?”

His shrug was easy. “Then you do not. It is a simply choice of yours and only you.”

“You-”

“I will not be offended,” he held his hands open at his sides, azure palms facing her.

Okoye had the distinct impression this was his attempt to appear harmless. Good luck, with all that broad, densely muscled height under a layer of thickness. Not to mention his intimidating hammerhead headdress.

Staring at him, she could also see how stiff body was. He still didn’t look at her.

She refused to admit what compelled her to order him to remove his mask. He did so in less than a blink of an eye. “You may kiss me,” she declared while tilting up her chin.

She expected him to be fast, rough and with little finesse. Instead, his large palm slowly moved towards her. It gave her plenty of time to pull away. There was no roughness as he trailed the pad of his calloused thumb upward for his hand to cup the back of her neck. He didn’t squeeze or even guide her head in the direction he wanted. Instead, his gaze searched her face before focusing on her mouth. A tilt of his head ensured that his bone nose plug didn’t scrape at her as he firmly pressed his lips to hers.

While his mouth was wet due to his rebreather being removed from only a few seconds ago, it didn’t feel unpleasant. Not as his lips confidently moved against hers before he began a light nibble at her lips.

Okoye wasn’t sure when she closed her eyes. She distantly noted how quickly she opened herself to him as she deepened the kiss. He tasted surprisingly warm. And of course with a faint hint of sea salt. His hand on her neck lightly guided her as his other arm wrapped around her waist, fingers fluttering up and down her side.

Clearly, he had plenty of practice in this endeavor.

The heat from his mouth plundering hers started to unfurl deep in her bones. It sparked at how his large hand slid down to palm her ass to haul her into his thighs. Thighs that were just as distractingly solid as the rest of him. She refused to muse on how she could easily climb him to wrap her legs around his waist. Along with how he could so effortlessly hold her weight against him. He had to be able to, judging by the sheer force of his blows whenever they crossed weapons.

Her mouth yielding to him, his tongue swept inside hers with a needy groan. Or was that her own moan as she reached up to wrap her arms around his neck to pull him closer? Her hands buried themselves in the damp softness of his hair.

At her experimental tug, he gripped her ass tighter. His growl echoing into her mouth, the noise shot through her like the slice of a spearhead as she instinctively began thrusting her hips into his.

Oh.

By Bast, oh…clearly, he was just as densely solid under that loincloth and those belts as he was all over.

She panicked.

“In Eek'e' [My star], I did not intend to-”

Okoye held up a stiff hand from where she’d shoved Attuma away. The back of her mind took note of how let her do so versus forcing her to stay close. “It’s not you," she panted. "I…it was unexpected how you…did that."

Rapidly blinking, Attuma silently took in how her chest heaved as she swallowed and shook her head in an effort to collect herself. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, coming back with the taste of sweetly smooth salt. She didn’t register how his gaze followed her motion as she glanced away.

“Part of the treaty is consummation.” She said it so low that an unenhanced person wouldn’t have been able to hear it. Except her fiancé was no normal human.

“We will dive into that that current when we arrive to it,” Attuma firmly replied, “May we both find each other willing. I am leaving now,” he clenched a fist at his side while he swiftly put back on his rebreather. “Forgive me for my presumptions, General Okoye of the Midnight Angels. I had no wish to make you feel discomfort with my request,” he spun on his heel.

I didn’t hate it! her mind furiously reeled. That proved the most alarming part of this overarching madness.

She crossed the riverbank just as quickly as how she swept over to challenge him during his attempt to kill Riri on that bridge. Her grip at his wrist just before he reached the water caused him to freeze.

“You did not offend me in asking,” she decisively said, “I do not regret agreeing.”

He whirled on her. She felt no fear. Not as he brought his hands up to rest on her shoulders. His gaze settled on her mouth for a long moment before he touched his forehead to hers and he hummed something that both their beads couldn’t fully pick up. Something on “jade” and “sun (the possessive?)”

“Thank you, Okoye,” Attuma then added.

Huh. Apparently the Talokanil flushed a faint lavender.

“I look forward to familiarizing myself with you, in ba'ate'el," he heatedly swore, "In a multitude of ways."

Okoye’s stomach fluttered at as he bowed his head low and granted her the Talokan salute. Swiftly retrieving his scythe, he strolled into the river and disappeared beneath the swirling currents.

She didn't move from the riverbank until the bustle from the city waking up floated to her ears. Shakily touching her lips, she let out a resigned sigh before she gathered up the practice staffs and headed back home. Not that it'd be her home for much longer now.

A few days over two weeks to go to their first set of nuptials in Wakanda, Okoye returned home from the final taste testing of her wedding food to find Attuma waiting for her. His wide size took up most of the width of the stairs leading up to her door. While he was now a familiar sight, she didn’t expect to see him until the wedding itself.

“Okoye,” he swept to his feet and lightly bowed his head. She suspected he would’ve given her the usual Talokanil salute if not for the wrapped package in his hands. At her similar nod of acknowledgement, he passed it to her. It was rather light and soft. The completely dry, sunny yellow fabric wrapping was tied closed with a silky green ribbon. As always, he stood and waited for her to open it.

She walked past him up the half flight of stairs before pausing and quietly inviting him inside. She knew her father was out with friends, playing his weekly card game down at the closest bar on the northern edge of the marketplace. It was good for him to rest and enjoy the much-needed company.

Attuma stared around at her décor in the front receiving room. It appeared a comfortable, airy space with arched, vaulted ceilings scattered with sunny skylights. The walls were painted a calming light blue. Hung on them were various pieces of painted art, carved wooden masks and a large shield of what looked to be a massive turtle shell. Crossed behind it were a pair of vibranium spears.

The opposite wall held a built-in floor to nearly ceiling shelf filled with spinning digital pictures in their frames. Various knickknacks of carved figurines and folded papers forming little animals sat in front of a large collection of codices (“We call them books,” she replied to his inquiry. “Same as a codex for the most part, just bound differently”). The swirl of the pale floor tiling contained geometric patterns in dark blue and accented with green and gold. Similar to the room where they negotiated their marriage.

Attuma remained close to the door, causing Okoye to look back as she wandered into the kitchen to grab a drink. He declined her offer of water. “I’d rather you open my gift,” he insisted, crossing his arms, “It is necessary for our upcoming activities.”

“Activities?” she repeated with surprise.

Looking her up and down, he rumbled, “I wish to know you, Okoye of the Midnight Angels. Outside of sparring. Or across from a table where all we spoke of were politics.”

"You want to be on the receiving end of my viperous tongue?” she jokingly retorted, setting his package down on the kitchen table, "Most would choose risking death in sparring over that."

“Your tongue speaks only witty words of truth,” he shrugged. "Besides," his voice dropped to alluringly low, "I look forward to getting familiar with it in a multitude of other ways."

Okoye's lips parted in surprise, her skin heating. However she swiftly recovered and scoffed. “You don’t have to flatter me-”

She was cut off by the feel of him taking one of her hands in both of his. She looked down to see him running his thumb over her knuckles in looping sweeps. Glancing up, she swallowed at how he gazed at her. She was reminded of the coming night sky alight with stars at the way his obsidian eyes seemed to sparkle with mirth.

“For those who deem it poisonous?” he gave her a fleeting squeeze, ”It is their problem that they lack the intellect to keep up. Now,” he withdrew, “Open your gift, for you will need it for our outing.” She was about to protest. Except to ignore his eager expression seemed unnecessarily cruel. Plus, it wasn’t as though she had anything else to do and it was still early afternoon.

The package revealed a beautifully woven set of loose-fitting pants tightly cuffed at the bottom with a matching, cropped, V-neck tunic. Its sleeves were similarly cuffed, blousy and long to her wrists. Both were brilliantly white. Made brighter by tightly beaded, glittering fish scales of iridescent pale green in a maze of squared off, geometric patterns.

Okoye lifted a brow at how the collar of the tunic sat rather low. At the same time, she couldn’t deny the exquisite rings of gold pearls embroidered around its opening. A matching pair of similarly beaded, slip on, sneaker looking shoes were included. All of it was clearly of the Talokanil style and similar to the clothes she wore while within the kingdom.

Her palm carefully brushed the gorgeous beadwork before she looked up at his expectant face. “Did you sew all this? Using the pearls I gave back to you?”

He’d taken to wearing a clear mouth rebreather when visiting her. It made it supremely easy to see his toothy smile. “Only the pearls, though I didn't use all of them. Everything else was ordered from the usual tailors and seamstresses.”

“They are…you are extremely talented, Attuma.”

“I am honored that you think so,” his face flushed lavender as he stepped into her space. “Is the rest of your day free?” She silently nodded. “Good. Go and change into that and I will take you to our destination.”

Attuma let out a deep exhale when she returned from one of the back rooms. The high waisted pants hung along her curves perfectly. The tunic revealed the soft shape of her breasts along with a wide slice of her toned stomach. Her deep umber skin appeared to glow golden against the kaleidoscope of beading and the stark white of the fabric.

So distracted, he almost didn’t hear her exclaim with surprise how it fit perfectly. He offhandedly said the same artisans who made her clothes while she was in Talokan did these.

It was a leisurely, half-hour walk to the river once he circled to the back of the house. When they reached it, Attuma turned and took her in. Okoye found herself suddenly very aware of her exposed stomach and the low neckline of her blouse as he handed her a pair of goggles from his satchel. He explained that Shuri designed them for her. “In order to allow you to see underwater.”

“Under what?” she apprehensively replied, taking them from him.

He pointed at the wide, churning current of the river in front of them. “Under that.”

She doubtfully looked between him and the river before wiping a hand down her livery. “These will get wet…I will get wet.”

“Only where your skin is exposed,” Attuma assured her. “Press the hems to yourself to seal out the wet. Anything covered will remain dry. That is how all fabric of Talokan works.”

She stared at him for a long while before she deliberately pressed the cuffs of her blouse around her wrists. They let out a soft noise of suction, similar to how his rebreather fit on her when he took her from the bridge. Okoye’s face lit up with grin as she did the same along the collar of her tunic and its bottom hem. As she sealed her waist and pant cuffs, Attuma clarified how her shoes would keep her feet dry too.

“Now,” he sauntered forward, gaze fixed to hers, “To prepare you to go beneath the waves.”

Okoye couldn’t help but relax against the warmth of his palm seeping through the thin material between her shoulder blades as he braced his hand to her back. He removed his rebreather and dumped the water before ordering her to breathe in his language. Unlike last time, she wasn’t rendered unconscious. It took her a few inhales to grow used to it, but the air under the mask was no different from outside.

Attuma then pulled her by the hand to the river’s edge. At her resistance, he softly told her, “Climb onto my back, in watan utia'al [my wife to be]. We will move faster if I carry you. I will not drop you, I swear it.”

Okoye vainly tried to ignore his potent strength as he effortlessly hoisted her up to piggyback on him. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders while making sure to not grip too hard at his gill rebreather. His hands grasped under her knees on either side of him kept her secure. Along with the press of her cheek to his back. His skin heated through her tunic against her breasts as he strolled into the water.

They were snatched by the dizzying swirl of the deeper current. She was about to hand herself over to the jostling motion sickness of being tossed about before Attuma suddenly righted himself. His powerful dolphin kick gracefully propelled him forward as he held on to her knees.

The river appeared a brackish green from above. But down here, it flowed deep cobalt, oxygenated and fresh. Okoye gasped at the sight of the schools of perch and tilapia flying below them. They rippled around the plant life, weaving through and nibbling on the swaying flowers. A handful of river turtles appeared on her right. Lazily swaying towards them, they bobbled at her side before zooming off. Looking up had her taking in the kicking legs of the various birds sailing long the surface. The late afternoon sun shimmered in an array of refracted color as it hit the flowing water. She could have never witnessed anything like this from a vantage point above.

After a long while, Attuma kicked his way back upwards. He reached back to hold her to him until they were firmly on land. With that, she slid off his back before he faced her.

“How do you feel?” he gently took off the rebreather. Ducking down to fill it with water, he resealed it over his mouth.

Okoye felt along under her clothes as she unsealed them. Dry as a bone. “You were right,” she wiped at her face after removing her goggles, “How did everything stay so dry?!”

“I am afraid I cannot reveal Talokan’s secrets under pain of death,” he solemnly replied. Except his eyes twinkled with mirth as he leaned in to whisper, “Your Princess of the Golden Tribe currently researches the very same in her lab. Aj K’uk’ulkan granted her some bolts of fabric from our most accomplished weavers.” Okoye tucked that knowledge away for later as she followed him further up the shore.

The island small, its irregular shape took up only a quarter mile or so. Tall grass sat scattered with brush and wildflowers. A spread of food upon a dark colored, woven blanket lay only a few steps from the river.Wide enough to easily fit them both, they dropped to sit. With the shade of the trees on the inlet keeping most of the hot sun overhead off of them, it was a pleasant view. Peaceful and empty.

Okoye realized she felt no fear being alone with him.

“Would you like to try some poc chuc?” he pointed to the pile of crackling wood. The firepit was cleared of any flammable plants and safely within a ring of stones. Sitting on its edge and halfway in the flames was some sort of waterproof, red clay bowl. “Cualli ensured the kitchens made it the same as last time,” Attuma proudly added.

Okoye’s eyes lit up at mention of the bubbly handmaid. “How is she?” she asked with genuine curiosity.

“She misses you," Attuma slowly said as he used a thick cloth napkin to pull the bowl out of the fire and remove its lid.

The smell made Okoye’s stomach clench. She couldn’t help how her mouth watered at the memory of its taste. Thick, grilled white fish filets made tart by lime juice, sweet in its marinade of oranges and spicy by the chili powder sprinkled on it. Multiple pieces lay wrapped in banana leaves so it grilled evenly. It sat on top of a large mound of stewed corn, thick sea kelp and squash.

"You and your amusing words," Attuma continued, "Apparently, no one else is brave enough to call me shark man to my face in Talokan?”

Okoye couldn't suppress her chortle, "It's a descriptor."

It was the first time he'd heard her laughter without sarcasm or defensiveness. Attuma found it just as enticing as the rest of her. Her chin raised in defiance, she watched him start to unwrap a banana leaf and break up the fish fillet with a wooden spoon. He pulled another dish from a cooler side of the fire and took off the lid. It revealed a stack of steaming corn tortillas.

"When you…left," he cleared his throat, "Cualli didn't understand how you didn't say goodbye."

"We can leave that in the past," Okoye retorted, shifting uncomfortably from him, "Old wounds-"

"Are scarred over," he rumbled, "They do not need to be reopened. Though, open," he held up a wrapped tortilla filled with the fish and vegetables in front of her lips. She stared him down but all he did was knowingly tilt his head at her in his usual fashion. As she rolled her eyes, he lightly pushed her chin upwards with his other hand.

"You know you want it," he hummed. He had a soft touch as she opened her mouth and he fed her the wrap.

Her groan at how good it tasted made him want to haul her into his lap and keep her there. He instead settled for feeding her the entire wrap before preparing another one. Explaining how the containers of food were waterproof and sealed tightly with an epoxy type substance that safely melted away when he reheated everything in fire, he fed her a second one.

"There's more of other things," he waved behind them at various bags and boxes of food.

Okoye’s eyes widened. "These are from the marketplace? You went shopping? No one…reacted to you?"

“I cannot lie,” Attuma smiled. Okoye once again took in how it lit up his face and made his eyes gleam. “Your Princess of the Golden Tribe arranged to have these delivered to my guest quarters at the gardens of the palace when I inquired about your tastes in food.”

Okoye reeled. Of course he’d be staying close. It’d take too long for him to travel every day back and forth to Talokan for him to keep showing up at her door. Which meant he had all of his courting gifts planned days ahead of time. She let out a quiet laugh at the image of Attuma constantly tracking down Shuri in the palace and inquiring about her.

Attuma took in her laugh with his own. “You find it amusing?”

“A bit,” Okoye admitted. She carefully allowed her fingers to brush against where his hand lay almost close enough to touch her thigh. “You can call her just Princess Shuri, by the way,” her hand came to fully rest on top of his, “No one uses her full title outside of Tribal Council meetings. And Shuri hates formalities.”

“She struck me as such as I’ve engaged with her,” the corner of Attuma’s mouth twitched. “Are you still hungry?” he picked up one of the boxes from the marketplace. Okoye silently nodded that she was.

Shuri outdid herself with her order. Braised kale and tomatoes. Nsima or a sort of corn paste blended with water with an added drizzling of mango ginger sauce. Lamb kebobs grilled to perfection. Roasted lake trout. Veggie and beef samosas. Sous Vide eggplant and various tubers. Harissa eggs and shaved cucumbers. Curried goat with a side of cassava fries . Mango and pineapple salad. Dessert included whipped sweet potato and candied cinnamon and a banana and walnut cake. Along with a pitcher each of bissap spritz and ginger turmeric lemonade. A feast of the best of the marketplace.

Attuma’s brows furrowed as Okoye glanced away and surreptitiously wiped at her face. “Did I bring anything you do not enjoy?” he worriedly implored, “the Princess of the Golden tribe…I mean Princess Shuri assured me this was all to your liking. If not, I may take it back.”

“It’s…perfect,” Okoye choked out.

“Why are you-?”

“No one’s bothered to do this type of thing for me in, well, in quite some time,” she finished wiping at her face. However, she refused to look at him as she resolutely finished, “That’s all. Don’t worry yourself over anything.”

Attuma frowned, even as he moved closer. Now, they sat flush against each other side by side. He cautiously dropped a hand over where hers rested next to his knee. “That is a true shame. At the same time, I hope I've made it clear that this will be how I conduct myself towards you until I breathe no more.”

She was about to disagree before he offered her a thick slice of lamb from between his fingers. Really, she had no choice but to eat.

They talked of everything and nothing as the sun began its descent and the moon rose. She learned that he was the baby of five younglings despite being physically the biggest one. As well as the first warrior of his direct ancestral line in some generations. So he had much to prove to K'uk'ulkan. His parents still lived. His father a tailor, his mother was a prized weaver of textiles. That explained his love of beading and embroidery.

Meanwhile, Okoye spoke of her father’s work as an environmental engineer in Shuri’s Design Group. He also served as her primary parent since her mother was a War Dog on various active assignments. She reminisced on fond memories growing up in the Border Tribe before enrolling in the Dora Milaje Training Academy within the palace citadel as a pre-teen. She adored it there since she could visit her father at work and vice versa. At the same time, many of the girls thought her a favorite due to her parents’ close relationships with the royal family. So she tenaciously fought to prove her worth based on talent alone.

It worked. She graduated first in her class before she underwent the usual sacred trials to earn a position in the guard.

By now, the sky was enveloped in darkness, nothing but the stars and three-quarter moon their company. Stuffed with food and drink, they both lay back on the blanket to stare up at the stars. It didn’t escape Okoye’s notice how Attuma held her hand pressed to center of his chest as he rested on his other one. He’d also removed his headdress. The soft curl of his hair brushed against her bald head, its sensation a pleasant tickle.

“This explains much about you,” Attuma thoughtfully said as she finished.

“Such as?” she leerily retorted.

“How you became your country’s greatest warrior,” he murmured.

She decided not to pick apart his claim, focusing on pointing out the constellations above them. Attuma keenly listened as she relayed her culture’s tales of how they came to be named. He told her how his land ancestors once navigated by the stars before being forced into the ocean. It made astronomy an almost lost art. All they had now was their satsun. For only those such as him, Namora, other generals and elite troops ventured above the water.

Okoye let out a deep exhale. “Perhaps with this treaty, your people may safely once again walk the land and rediscover the stars?”

She allowed herself to lean closer to him as he squeezed her hand. “I greatly appreciate your sentiment and pray to the gods that part of us will be restored.”

She didn’t realize some hours passed before Attuma urged her to her feet. He swore there’d be no need for her to clean up since he’d return and take care of it himself. She all but ordered him to keep the leftovers since he seemed to devour most of the marketplace food. “All the better for you to learn what to cook for me,” she teased.

Once again, she was granted his full smile. While she couldn’t see his dimples under his rebreather, her knowledge of them set her cheeks aflame.

Contentedly full, Okoye could barely keep her eyes open as she stumbled back to the river behind Attuma. He easily caught her and righted her on her feet. “It would be best if I carry you in front of me back home,” he asserted. At her doubtful look, he grinned, “I wouldn’t want to be accused of drowning you; if I hold you versus you being on my back, I will not let you go.”

She worried her lower lip before tiredly replying he could do so. After she slid her goggles on before he pressed his rebreather to her, he swept her up like she weighed nothing into a bridal carry (the sheer irony, her mind whirled). Walking into the river, he smiled to himself as she wrapped her arms around his neck for a better grip.

She didn’t awake until he set her down on the ground at the back gate of her home. He’d managed to take back his rebreather without waking her. Removing her goggles, she eyed him as he did her. Finally leaning down, Attuma touched his forehead to hers. Okoye closed her eyes and breathed him in. Watching her face soften in the moonlight, he slowly took her hands hanging at her sides in his. She didn’t pull away.

“This is only a hint of what I may offer you, Okoye,” Attuma airily murmured against her skin. “May it persuade you to open your heart. Yes, for our nations. But firstly, for yourself.”

He could feel her chest rising and falling against his own. Her sweetly spicy scent flared in his nostrils, heady and seductive. It grew as she pulled her hands from his only to let them travel up his forearms before settling.

“I...I failed at this once,” she raggedly whispered, eyes fluttering open, “And that was with someone I knew for years before we married-”

“I am not him,” Attuma smirked even as he thumbed away the fresh tears on her cheek. Okoye swallowed as he continued, “There is no competition, in watan utia'al [my wife to be].” She tentatively reached up to grab his wrist at her cheek. His smirk deepened into a grin at how she touched him without recoiling. “I will be yours absolutely. You will be mine. That is all that matters now.”

If it were up to him, he would’ve taken her face in his hands and kissed the breath out of her. Shown her that he starved for her. How his appetite to claim her completely spanned the oceans. Nevertheless, there was no reason to send her skittering away again. He had her in the here and now. Better a fish in the hand than to chase after a school of them.

Instead, he took her hand to slide two fingers along her palm before removing his rebreather and leaning down to press a lingering kiss to her inner wrist. He could almost taste the rapid beat of her heart. He certainly heard her shaky inhale before he retreated. Pride swelled in him at how she swayed towards him before she seemed to remember herself and come to a standstill.

“Goodnight, in Eek'e' yax tun [my jade star]," he granted her the Talokanil salute.

Okoye paused before she succinctly replied, “Good night to you as well, indoda enkulu kakrebe [great shark man].”

It was said with a flash of a grin so brief that Attuma wasn’t sure if he saw it. Yet how she stood and watched him until he reached the river told him enough.

Only a few more turns of the sun until she would be his.

Chapter 7

Chapter Text

Ever since the picnic, Attuma gifted Okoye with more and more waterproof clothing from Talokan. Mostly on account of their increasingly normal routine of meeting at the river shore a meandering walk from the rear of her house. While she was well aware of the various inlets and small islands of the winding tributary that fed from the Nyanza (Lake Victoria, as the colonizers called it), she’d never discovered them so up close and personal. Now she could with Attuma’s rebreather. Along with how easily he carried her on his broad, warm back as he walked into the river for their swims.

On this early afternoon, she could only steal away from training the new recruits for an hour or so. Much to Attuma's disappointment.

“I won’t apologize for doing my duty,” Okoye shrugged. Eyes bright with challenge, she dangled her calves in the water from where she sat along the wide, sandy strip of beach. It formed the peninsula of an inlet a few miles south of her home. “Ukulungiselela okona kubi, kufuneka uqeqeshe ngezona zibalaseleyo,” she hummed as Attuma leisurely bobbed in the water in front of her.

“To prepare for the worst, you must train with the best,” her beads translated aloud.

"A worthy sentiment," Attuma replied as he smoothly paddled closer. He didn’t require his mouth rebreather in the water. Okoye was swiftly learning that without it, his handsome face bore a myriad of expressions. A far cry from the predatory focus he directed at her on the bridge that night.

“I also do not begrudge you your obligations," he grinned, "Even if it means I cannot constantly feast my eyes upon you."

“Greedy shark,” Okoye admonished while aiming a splash in his direction. He easily dodged it and moved closer.

Okoye had changed out of her Midnight Angels uniform back at her home into another of Attuma's waterproof gifts. The light orange tunic's short cap sleeves were embroidered in turquoise and green geometric shapes riddled with tiny white seed pearls. Their matching bloomer shorts sealed closed just below mid-thigh. Attuma took her in with rapt attention. Especially as her shorts rode upwards as she leaned back on her hands and turned her face up towards the sun while closing her eyes. His gaze traced the elegant line of her throat wrapped in the finely carved, gold circles of her dzilla necklace. The afternoon light bore down on her, casting her in its burnished glow.

“Can you blame me?” he pouted, now within arm's reach of her,“I simply wish to engage with my other half," he insisted. "You would deny me that? Such cruelty, woman,” the amusem*nt danced around his words.

"I thought you mighty Talokanil were stronger than mere words?" she chuckled, looking back down at him.

"Not when they fall from your sweet lips, my warrior," he suggestively waggled his brows.

"Attuma!” she exclaimed. She couldn’t hold back a breathless laugh with her halfhearted slap of his hand away from where he began running it up and down her knee. His battle worn palms tickled her warm skin as his other hand lightly grabbed her opposite ankle.

Okoye didn't fight him as he swam closer to settle himself in between her spread legs. All despite how she admonished, “Someone will see us!”

“I promise they will hear you before that,” he murmured.

“Always so full of jokes,” she hummed, arching a brow.

He dropped lower into the water, shoulder deep. It allowed him to press a kiss to just above her knee. The wicked gleam in his dark eyes set her stomach fluttering as he hummed, “Who said I lie?”

Okoye bit at her lower lip in an attempt to stay quiet at the wonderfully wet drag of Attuma's lipsup her leg. He pushed the hem of her tunic higher to expose her supple stomach to the attentions of his mouth as his other hand on her ankle swept upwards. Now she couldn't swallow down her gasp as he began kissing little nips to her midsection. Playful, he followed them up with a swirl of his tongue to soften their sting.

She was struck by how easily he proceeded to haul himself out of the water. His wide shoulders glistened in the bright sun as streams of water recklessly spilled down the expanse of his thick body. She couldn’t help but marvel at how his skin slowly shifted from olive brown to soft azure. She’d learned weeks ago that he wouldn’t suffocate for some hours without his mouth rebreather since he also wore his gill one. Mostly due to the mouth one used more to ensure his people's throats wouldn't dry out in discomfort. He was also currently very close to water.

Okoye raised her bare foot to press against his chest as he attempted to crawl over her. All predatory grace made tantalizing by how his obsidian gaze captured hers. Both his hands now fell to her waist. It caused her to lean back until she lay somewhat prone but still sitting up on her elbows. She didn’t mind how wet his grip was. If anything, it was a relief on this hot day.

The corner of her mouth tilted upwards. "What are you going to do now, shark man?”

“What do you wish of me?” Attuma growled before pushing aside her foot. It fell back to the blanket as he leaned down to nudge his nose against the side of her neck.

Her surprised "Mmph!" as he rapidly maneuvered himself to nestle between her open thighs had him grinning in victory. His hardening length under his hip cloth pressing against the front of her shorts sent a flare of heat tingling up her spine. Combined with his full weight nearly all on top of her? It made the pleasant drag of his bone nose plug at her throat that much more satisfying.

“Command me, in eek'e [my star],” he insisted. Words ghosting along her pulse point, he roughly added, “If you dare.”

She challenged him with a tilt of her chin, “What if I want you to take care of me?”

"U yaan meent [It will be done]," he rumbled. His gentle fingers tracing her jaw, the bubbles in his gill rebreather swirled with his hitched, deep inhale.

Okoye tossed one of her arms around his blue shoulder. It caused him to pause and take her in. His gaze swept her stunning face as she breathlessly commanded, “So kiss me, oyena krebe wam umnandi kum [my sweetest shark].”

Her mouth fell open with a whine as he licked into a biting kiss to the pulse point on the side of her neck. The brilliant thrum of her heartbeat echoed in his ears with intoxicating zeal. Continuing his languid journey upward with his mouth, he noted what brought out her most pleased noises. He repeated his efforts as his other hand cupped down her side. His muffled laugh against her cheek met her giggle at the ticklish sensation from his calloused fingers working their way along her. Her surprised exhale allowed him to then steal a kiss from her full mouth.

Attuma marveled at the feel of her lithely strong body gradually falling pliant under him as she hungrily licked into his mouth. Her hand moved through his tangled tresses with a firm tug. It had him growling against her as he deepened the kiss and swept past her lips. Tasting her sweetness proved a reward beyond imagining. Particularly as she lifted her hips to grind her still clothed center to him.

Attuma’s fingers slipped to the hem of her shorts. He broke the kiss, smirking at how she attempted to lift her head to chase him.

“May I?” he murmured against her ear, his hand tracing back and forth along her lower stomach. Okoye clutched his wrist and pushed him even lower, below the hem. A kiss to the side of his mouth had her nodding in affirmation. Attuma shifted so that she could completely capture his mouth for a quick moment before he commanded, “Tell me you wish it so.”

Her legs fell open even more. “Yes.”

He lowered his head to nibble at the tops of her breasts. “You are certain?”

Okoye groaned, eyes fluttering shut as she buried both hands in his hair. “Stop with your teasing, you menace.”

Attuma sighed into her neck before lightly biting down. “Look at you,” he whispered as she let out a moan at how his fingers worked lower to glide along her slick puss*, “So prettily wet. All just for me?”

“Only you,” Okoye’s heaved out.

“And so I am yours,” Attuma possessively murmured into the valley of her breasts.

“Consider yourself lucky,” Okoye panted out a laugh.

She was rewarded with Attuma’s amused grunt before he shoved her tunic upwards with his free hand to expose her to him. She barely had time to yank off her top before he had her sighing as his lips sucked at her peaked, dark nipple. Her stomach twisted and turned with growing pleasure at the way he slowly slipped a thick finger into her damp center. It was in contrast with how he hungrily bit at her skin. Along with his thumb languidly starting to play along her cl*t. Her thighs jutted up from the blanket to get more contact with the delightful feel of him between her legs.

At her eager pull of his hair, he mapped a pattern of kisses down her quivering stomach as he began rocking in and out of her plush lower lips. Okoye’s surprised exclamation only made him smile and speed up his motions. The higher lift of her hips allowed him to slide her shorts down her legs and she kicked them off.

Pulling away, his fiery eyes greedily swept her naked form now fully bared to him. She was exquisite, deep umber skin glowing with a thin sheen of perspiration as she writhed. How she tried to pull him back down to her as he thrust in and out of her pliant puss* at increasing speed only made his thick co*ck twitch for her.

“I wonder if you taste as good as you look, in yakunaj [my love]?” he mused.

Running his free hand upwards had him skimming her side before he leaned down to grant her a devouring kiss. Okoye cried into his mouth as he sunk another finger into her. The delicious stretch of his thick digits spreading her open even more sent her hands moving up to clutch at his muscled back.

Riding his hand in time with his aching rhythm had her head swimming as she broke the kiss. “P-please,” she throatily begged, “You…hmph…you have to…”

“You will never be denied what you wish of me,” he huskily insisted as he shifted downward. Bracing the backs of her knees over his shoulders exposed her delicious wetness to him. "f*ck, you smell exquisite," he groaned, rubbing his wide nose along her lower lips with a deep inhale. "Mine. All, mine," he hummed at her cl*t. The vibration of his words caused her to whine in desperation and buck her hips to his hungry mouth.

It was impossible for Okoye to hold in her shriek as his mouth finally met her aching puss*. He seemed to starve for her, endlessly licking into her folds. His fervent groans shot straight to her core as he feasted on his prize in tandem with the rapid curl of his fingers within her.

Heat blossomed through every part of her as she struggled to maintain a hold in his hair due to the tremble of her hips against him. At her fingertips massaging his scalp, Attuma shuddered, snarled and sucked at her with even more fervor. The tip of his tongue danced along her cl*t before he wrapped his lips around it.

Okoye cursed, begging for more as she hoisted her hips up to him. He stuck to his promises, refusing to deny her and sealing his mouth to her with even more pressure. His free arm dropped over her stomach, pinning her in place through this divine torture.

There was no escape. He was relentless, finally shoving her over the precipice of pleasure.

Okoye's org*sm slamming into her after so long of being toyed with by her precious shark, her thighs shuddered around his head as he continued his enthusiastic licks and pumping into her. Her back arched upwards for more as her howl echoed around them. Attuma obliged, sucking at her cl*t for a long, mesmerizing moment. All as he ground his hard co*ck into the blanket for more friction.

There was much to be said for his ability to breathe underwater and how it now served her as he mercilessly pushed her through the height of her peak. She admittedly couldn’t understand his muffled words into her c*nt in his language. No matter, for they sounded like pitched praises. How he took another lingering taste of her only made it more hypnotizing.

Only when she trembled and barely managed to string together her words for him to let her recover did he retreat. A flurry of kisses to her thighs as he withdrew his fingers had her eyes snapping open. She looked down her body to see his sharp toothed smile before he languidly sucked her off of his fingers, one by one.

“You taste of the nectar of the gods,” he hummed. His other hand at her waist moved upwards to give her breast an affectionate squeeze before he took a filthy kiss from her. “I expected nothing less, in eek'e' k'áak'o [my fiery star],” he groaned into her mouth.

Okoye moaned at the taste of herself blending with his own. Finally coming up for air from his kiss had her delicately tracing the line of his jaw. Attuma closed his eyes with a rumbled sigh as she pressed her forehead to his and whispered, “I love you, ikhaka lam elikhulu [my great shield].”

“Then let me show you how I belong to you wholly,” he ground his straining co*ck to her between her inviting legs…

Okoye awoke with a gasp to the incessant chiming of her kimoyo beads announcing she had a visitor at her front door. Her body felt sweaty despite her temperature-controlled home. Rubbing her thighs together only reinforced the throbbing sensation of her arousal.

f*ck it all, it was just a dream.

All she’d done was kiss her betrothed that one time during their sparring on the river beach. Sure, she’d enjoyed herself at their picnic on the island inlet a week ago. They’d gone on a few long walks after that. However, she didn’t allow herself any more attempts at his physical affection. No need to let her raging heart dictate her logical mind. After all, she had no idea of his true nature. It could all be a ploy before he turned on her once their marriages were sealed and there was no escape.

Yet here she lay in her bedroom, wrung out over her own imagination. For all she knew, he’d be a terrible bedmate. It wasn’t as though they’d courted for any decent length of time for her to find out.She certainly didn't love him, nor did she ever expect to. Combined with how she could yet again end up under the false assumption that her husband held any love for her? She utterly refused to be victimized again.

Okoye cursed aloud as she reflexively slid her hand down her belly to finish off what her fevered brain started. It'd take less than a few minutes to bring herself over the edge. Her skin burning, her puss* fluttered with the phantom feel of his insufferable tongue and annoyingly big hand going to work on her. Closing her eyes, she let out a huff as her fingers dipped into her wetness.

Except her beads chimed even louder this time.

f*ck.

She raised her other wrist to take in the door command flashing its red hologram notification. It was Nakia, arrived to accompany her to the final fitting of her clothes less than a week before her first wedding in Wakanda.

She tiredly greeted her friend with a quick voice message into her beads and unlocked the door digitally.

“You’re not up yet?” Nakia whispered into her own beads. She had no wish to wake Tanisko in his room deeper into the house. So she made herself comfortable in the living room on the couch. Her checkered green and gold romper fluttered along the blousy, elbow length sleeves as she carelessly swept her dreadlocks over a shoulder. “The sun’s been up for two hours,” she chuckled.

Okoye was out of bed by now, stretching in an attempt to cool herself down. All despite of the images of Attuma eating her out with wild abandon flashing in her mind. Her face felt fiery as she moved to her closet to pick out her clothes for the day.

“Wedding nerves,” she shrugged, talking to Nakia at the front of the house through her beads.

"You're almost there, admittedly,” Nakia arched a brow in the living room, “The Bridal Welcoming starts things off four days from now-”

“With the land wedding three days after. Such joy,” Okoye groused. “Anyway, feel free to grab some food from the kitchen. I’ll be ready in a half hour.”

Nakia laughed again. “No need to tell me twice about a free meal.”

“Just don’t eat me out of house and home,” Okoye jokingly warned as she headed to her ensuite bathroom to get ready.

She emerged into the living room 24 minutes later to find Nakia sitting at the small kitchen table and finishing off a bowl of leftover okra and beef soup.

"Only the best for my houseguests, eh?" she dropped a hand to Nakia’s shoulder while pressing a quick kiss into her locs.

Nakia reached up to give her hand an affectionate squeeze. "See? Just one bowl for me."

“You calling me cheap now?’ Okoye chuckled as she prepared her own bowl, “Have more if you want.”

“Your kindness knows no bounds,” Nakia smirked.

They were soon joined by Tanisko shuffling into the kitchen in his billowy pajamas. His grey afro slightly pressed in on one side of his head as he yawned, he’d clearly just woken up. That didn’t stop his eyes widening with joy at the sight of Nakia.

“Intombi yam elungileyo [my good daughter], it has been far, far too long!” he swept her up from her seat into a hug. “You haven’t seemed to grace our lands in an age,” he huffed. Dropping to take her hands in his, he frowned and quietly said, “We all mourn your loss in our king. I know he watches over you.”

Okoye reached out to give Nakia’s wrist a comforting brush of her fingers as she passed her to grab breakfast for her father from the kitchen behind them. Nakia granted Tanisko a weak grin as she thanked him. He solemnly took in how she wiped away the tears brimming along her lashes as he murmured, “I know how it is to lose a beloved too soon. Should you need anything, even just to sit in silence in a familiar space,” he waved around their home, “I am here.”

"You've always been so kind," Nakia heavily sighed. "I'm staying at the palace, only here for the weddings. But I'll be sure to visit."

"You're not moving back to the capital?" Tanisko questioned.

"It's…painful," Nakia grimaced, "So many things remind me of T'Challa-"

Tanisko shook his head in agreement. "Say no more. I shouldn't have pried, forgive me."

"Nothing to forgive, I assure you," Nakia returned his hug before he took a seat at the dining table on the other side of Okoye’s place setting.

Thanking his daughter for breakfast as she returned, he and Nakia talked of what she was up to. Okoye half listened. She already knew of her friend's relocation to Haiti and the running of the school for disadvantaged children on the island. Along with how the Queen apparently looked to expand it into an outreach center. It was admittedly hard to concentrate with her dreams still churning in her head.

She was well aware of the differences between love and lust. She had various and fleeting liaisons after W'Kabi's betrayal. None of them meant much. Frankly, she hadn't had another in her bed for well over a year. She could only blame that for her mind conjuring up images of her betrothed f*cking her on the beach. It was a simple, primal sort of thing.

“Your pleasures will be all mine…that I can promise you, Okoye.”

She owed him nothing but adhering to the terms of their contract. He didn't have her heart, nor was he under any obligation to grant her his.

"I could love you as easily as I breathe beneath the surface…"

Okoye startled as Nakia called her name for the third time. The War Dog gave her a quizzical look as she questioned if the other woman was ready to head to the royal tailors. It’d be the first of their errands of the morning before it heated up too much. Okoye silently nodded that she was good to go before hopping to her feet to clean her dishes. She snatched up Nakia’s as well and swiftly retreated to the kitchen.

“These weddings aren't exactly occurring under normal circ*mstances,” Tanisko flashed a wry smile. “It doesn’t help that she's dealing with these fish folk.”

“Agreed,” Nakia snorted. “Have you met her betrothed?”

Tanisko heartily relayed his conversation with Attuma. Along with his death threats. Nakia couldn’t hold back a chortle at how he made sure to let the shark man know he wouldn’t be the only one to hunt him down and filet him should he violate his daughter in any way. “He actually agreed with me!” Tanisko threw up an arm of disbelief.

“A good sign?” Nakia asked.

“One hopes, eh?”

Okoye promised to be home for dinner. It would likely be the last one with just her father before her marriage. For the next week would be a flurry of activity. Leaning down to give him a kiss on the cheek, she and Nakia ventured out into the bustling streets of the capital for their day’s work.

Marriages following a breakup of one's first weren’t particularly rare in Wakanda. No one was expected to be tied to a spouse to live in irreconcilable strife and unhappiness. However, tradition dictated that before a new chapter of unity between lovers began, amends were to be made. If only to start the new marriage cleansed of the old. How one decided to carry it all out was up to them.

The day after her final fittings, Okoye stepped out of the secured hover transport and saluted the soldier who drove it to the interior of the country. She then turned and held up her kimoyo beads to the humming, violet colored forcefield in front of her. The top of it disappeared up into the hazy sky, ensuring the prison colony remained under maximum security. At the confirmation of her code, a small section of the hologram image of the forested mountain behind it shimmered before disappearing to reveal a massive farm field. Stepping through the force field, she exchanged a few words with the soldier to reassure him that she didn't need his assistance. He nodded before speeding off.

It took nearly an hour for her to cross the fields of freshly tilled earth and rows of planted fruit trees, vegetables and crops. She preferred walking to using the transport. For it allowed her to think on how best to break the news to her ex-husband. It’d been less than a year since their divorce finalized despite his prison sentence beginning seven years ago. So her engagement would likely be a shock. The cooler temperature at the end of the rainy season was also made for the walk. They’d have only a week or so of warming weather before the full heat of summer hit.

Wakanda prided itself on its humanity in these modern times. Hence, W’Kabi wasn’t sentenced to death for his treason. Rather, life imprisonment. He also wasn’t doomed to a tiny, inhumane cell.

His house didn’t have a large footprint despite being two stories. Then again, it was meant for only one occupant. Sparkling white, it appeared to be comprised of whitewashed clapboard with an array of windows on both floors. Except that was an illusion due to being reinforced with vibranium walls that held a host of monitoring technology. Between that and the invisible drones that covered the dome of the massive acreage of the penal colony, there was no escape for a high-risk prisoner.

W’Kabi stood in front of a rocking chair on the front porch. Having gotten the chimed announcement on his special set of kimoyo beads limited to prisoners, he was apparently in a giving mood. The two mugs of steaming tea and snacks on the small round table next to him illustrated it. He wore a dark blue tunic embroidered around the edges in white circles over a pair of loose-fitting, tan pants. Judging by his work boots covered in wet soil, he’d just come from some gardening work.

Okoye let out a deep breath before painting a smile on her face and rebalancing the potted plant in her arms. Her ex-husband arched a brow as she approached the porch.

“You know you don’t have to fake a smile,” he tossed out. His brief grin took the harshness from his words as he stood. Especially as he bowed his head and granted her the Wakandan salute. “Not especially for me,” he added, “No more lies between us, remember?”

Okoye rolled her eyes as she let out a brief chuckle. “Old habits, what can I say?”

“The lies are habitual?” W’Kabi tilted his head, “I should hope not,” he hummed.

Okoye frowned before she shrugged. “Then telling the truth is why I’m here.” Shoving the potted plant into his hands, she didn’t wait for permission before she took a careful seat on the rocking chair on the other side of the porch stairs. It allowed her to not look at him or take in his chagrined expression. Not as he let out a snort despite carefully setting the plant on the floorboards between their chairs.

Worrying his lower lip, he flatly said, “We usually start with the awkward small talk during your once a quarter visits. Plus, you’re over a month early,” he dropped down in the other rocking chair and slid an empty mug towards her.

Okoye began to pour her drink as she distantly said, “Things change as time marches on-”

“Anyway,” W’Kabi interrupted, “It’s going to be a great season for the yams. Though my cassava plants need a bit more care. I’ve admittedly been slipping, distracted by the other orchards,” he waved an arm at the view of the crops in front of them.

As he talked, Okoye took in how his shoulders relaxed, and he slumped into a more comfortable position in his chair. He was in his element. It wasn’t surprising considering gardening was the one thing they enjoyed together to the bitter end of their marriage.

Okoye still mourned his parents’ murders by Klaue during his attack to steal vibranium and deeply missed them. W’Kabi’s father had a green thumb and loved raising animals, especially the war rhinos. His mother proved an excellent cook and never wanted for the freshest of food from her husband's garden to incorporate into her legendary recipes. Recipes she openly shared with her daughter-in-law. She was never selfish, constantly keeping Okoye informed of their family traditions. For the Border Tribe remained matrilineal.

Husbands moved into the family homes of their wives upon marriage. While they kept their family clan names, the children took on the clan name of the mother. It was the same for Okoye’s father, no matter that he married into the Border tribe from his Mining Tribe. Tanisko easily adapted into the fold and Okoye carried her mother’s tribal surname of Sibanda.

Okoye let W’Kabi babble on. His face lit up as he waxed poetic on the details of his implantation of a new irrigation system he concocted to combat the rising heat of the coming summer. How he worked on a new batch of compost. The new cutting of plants provided to him from the guards to add to the orchard. While it was impossible to keep rhinos due to security concerns, his chicken coop was full. The goats were currently out to pasture to graze. And a feral cat made its way into the colony that he’d begun feeding only a few weeks ago. Hopefully, it’d get comfortable enough to want to live in his home.

He didn’t once ask her of her life now.

“I’m getting married.“

The sound of his mug shattering on the ground nearly caused her to bolt upright in her chair. Only her training prevented such an obvious reaction. W’Kabi froze for a long minute before jumping to his feet. Gaze blank as he locked eyes with her for what seemed a lifetime, he swept into the house and slammed the door shut behind him. Okoye was on her second cup of tea before he returned with a broom and dustpan. He silently swept up the remnants of his mug before stiffly walking down the porch steps and wandering around the side of the house to dump the trash.

She had no idea what possessed her to blurt it out before she even took her first sip of tea. Not quite guilt, as they were officially divorced. He was also a convicted traitor. So it wasn’t as though he was going to be paroled any time soon to be able to bear witness to any part of her pending marriage. Perhaps a small, thoroughly petty part of her wanted to witness his reaction since he didn’t bother to let her get in a word edgewise. After all, why waste the time with the ‘awkward small talk,’ as he pointed out himself?

By the time he returned with a new cup, she was on her second serving of tea and demolished a few small squares of basbousa cake. She unwrapped a slice of yam pie as she looked up to take him in looming over her. Her eyes didn’t leave his until he glanced away. The silence stretched on between them as he slowly retook his seat in his rocking chair. The apparent feral cat he’d been feeding slipped out of the front door and settled on the porch under his chair. Of the Savannah breed with its tan fur speckled with black and brown spots, it’s bright green eyes cautiously swept Okoye before it began cleaning its paws.

W’Kabi went through an entire cup of tea before grunting out, “I assume congratulations are in order?”

“Perhaps,” Okoye retorted as she munched on the pie slice. Swallowing, she deliberately added, “At least I hope so.”

His head whipped in her direction. “Why wouldn’t they be? It’s a marriage.” Loudly exhaling through his nose, he muttered, “Marriages are a time for celebration.”

“Even if they’re arranged?”

“The f*ck?!”

Taking a deep breath, she explained most of what occurred over the last few weeks. How a new enemy from the sea revealed itself. The way they arrived at their treaty and her role in it. While she didn’t explain all the details or Attuma’s name due to security concerns, Talokan being tied to Wakanda was known throughout the land.

W’Kabi snapped out questions of why she was the one forced into this union. Along with how Ramonda and the rest of the Golden Tribe clearly betrayed her with this demand. “Not even sacrificing your first marriage has been paid back with any sort of kindness,” he bitterly declared as the cat leapt up into his lap, “They’ve just shoved you into this new one.”

Okoye’s mouth curled with disdain. “I side with the throne over all traitors. No matter their links to me,” she tightly declared. “The only person who broke our marriage on the battlefield that day currently sits right in front of me.” He rolled his eyes but said nothing. Along with avoiding her incensed gaze as his hand wandered to pet and scratch behind the cat’s ears. It began to lightly purr.

“Besides,” she continued, “I volunteered. As did he and immediately after I did.”

“Why does he want you?”

“Excuse me?!”

W’Kabi closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose for a quick moment before he waved a hand in surrender. “I am concerned for your safety."

"Why can you not accept someone wishes you for a wife outside of the politics of it all?" Attuma's indignant voice demanded in her head.

Stiffly sitting up, Okoye shot back, "So no one should wish to have me for anything but ulterior motives then?"

"Perhaps he presented himself so quickly to use you as a pawn," W'Kabi loosely shrugged. It caused her ire to rise as he pushed on, "What if he harms you if things don’t go the way of these Talokans-?”

“It’s Talokanil,” she swiftly corrected, “Their kingdom itself is called Talokan.”

“No matter,” W’Kabi snorted. “Will you be safe married to someone of a people who so easily invaded? Will their king ensure you are treated as one of theirs or will he punish you for Wakanda’s failings? Will the Golden Tribe come to your aid should that occur? Will they avenge you should the worse come to pass?” he frowned. “I…no longer have any right to you, that is true. Yet I don’t wish any ills to come to you either.”

It was no lie falling from his lips. Okoye knew his every tell, having grown up with him before their dating and subsequent marriage. The way his voice lowered, faltering on his final words made it obvious. Along with his subdued but pained expression. The corners of his mouth turned downward, his eyes were wide with apprehension.

Gazing out at the fields, she evenly said, “Shuri will protect me.”

“Shuri is not yet the queen,” he retorted. “By Bast, does she even want to be?!”

“It’s inevitable.”

“She’s barely into her 20s physically.” Everyone knew she’d been part of the snap. One of the side effects of those who disappeared during it was now having two official ages. One in real time and one that excluded the five years of their absence. “How can she rule a nation all while nearly it’s entire vibranium infrastructure depends on her leading the working group?” W’Kabi sighed. “All authority lies in the current queen, who stripped you of your duty for utterly ridiculous reasons.”

“I failed her in protecting the Princess,” Okoye whispered, “I deserved to be relieved of my position in the Dora Mila-”

“Stop this nonsense!” W’Kabi’s voice rose. She had no reason to flinch at his outburst, for she knew no harm would come of it. Instead, she shot him a withering look as he continued, “You nearly died on that bridge in how you explained it. You were then exposed to ridicule in front of the entire court. Which is why I again ask, will Ramonda continue her wrath against you after selling you off to these invaders?!”

“I offered up myself-”

“To once again be a martyr to that accursed throne above all else-!”

“You speak of treason!” she growled.

“I speak the truth and you are aware of it, considering you haven’t threatened to slice my throat open yet!” he jumped to his feet. The cat yowled in protest as it slid off his lap to settle on one of the chair’s armrests.

Rocking to her feet as well, Okoye clenched her fists at her sides. “The only reason I haven’t is that we’re not allowed to bring weapons in here-”

“As though you couldn’t end my life with your bare hands if you wished it,” he snidely replied.

“We were both raised as warriors!”

“And you’ve always been superior.”

She crossed her arms, words vehement. “As though you’d ever let me forget it in all of your envy!”

W’Kabi’s hostile laugh boomed around the empty field. It took all her resolve to not send him flying over the rails of the porch and into the dirt with some well-paced strikes. No reason for the cat to get caught in the crossfire either.

"Nearly a decade of our separation and you still refuse to see I never resented you for your talents," W'Kabi harshly replied. "If anything, it is what I loved of you most.”

Okoye rolled her eyes. “Do not speak to me of love that hadn’t existed for a long time. Even before you betrayed your king to that bhentse emfene umntu wangaphandle [baboon c*nt outsider], we were doomed. Your pride-”

“Was no less than yours, Okoye,” he muttered. “Pride…it broke us both. We just reacted to it in our usual ways. You retreated, cut me off from your heart,” he sniffed, “All while I exploded in a foolishly rotten attempt to gain your attention once more.”

“And you still blame me.”

He shook his head as he sunk back down into his chair. “Where did I say as much?”

“Your face does,” she waved up and down at him, still on her feet.

“My face is tired,” he sighed, “Exhausted from how we continue to lie to ourselves. Of how you constantly think yourself so unworthy after a life dedicated to this country. Your queen betrayed you only for you to toss yourself at the mercy of this sea king. This abomination who would wipe out our nation as easily as he and the rest of his heathens breathe under their foreign waves.”

He began rocking his chair, its wooden beams squeaking against the floor. He reached out a hand to grab her wrist only to stop short as she looked down at him from where she still stood. “I never expected you to not move on,” he muttered, pulling back, “Yet I’d hope whoever you went on to spend your life with would be of your own choosing.”

It took Okoye a few deep breaths to stop the blood from pounding in her veins. She took her seat, startled at the cat suddenly dropping to sit on her feet. It’s warm body refused to budge as she shifted.

They said nothing for a solid ten minutes. Watching the field in front of them proved far easier than addressing the proverbial elephant between them. Finally, W’Kabi sat up straighter.

“Has your fish fiancé at least attempted to court you?”

Okoye slowly blinked before silently nodding in agreement.

“You seem enthused,” W’Kabi sarcastically replied.

“Despite our marriage being of a contract, he pursues me with the same unrelenting motivation as he did when he tried to kill me," she retorted.

W’Kabi shook his head in disbelief. “At least he’s consistent?”

Okoye huffed, “For now. There are many gifts and pretty words-”

“You doubt his sincerity.” She didn’t answer. He cast her a sideways glance before a strained grin crossed his face. “Or perhaps you’ve attempted to do so and he gives you little reason to. No matter how hard you seek to discount him. Understandable,” he shrugged, “But it creates complications.”

“No one asked for your opinion,” she hummed.

W’Kabi bit back a groan, settling for more tea for himself. After taking a long sip, he replied, “No, of course not. It’s not as though I forced you to come here and announce your pending marriage. You owe me nothing, as you point out every time you arrive. Yet still, you are here.”

“It is my duty.”

“I never asked you of it.”

“You would hate me if I abandoned you,” she sniffed, "Do not lie to yourself."

“Iindonga sele zingqubana [The walls have already come into collision]. I never asked anything of you upon my conviction. And what you demanded in our divorce, I did it without question. Your projections are your own, usisi [sister],” he calmly shrugged.

Okoye’s ragged sigh startled the cat still at her feet. It darted away only to curl into sleep under her chair. “The both of you speak in f*cking riddles, you know that?” she snapped.

“From what you’ve revealed of your bizarrely blue mermaid man, he seems to also believe that you deserve to see yourself how everyone else sees you,” W’Kabi insisted. It earned him her jaundiced look as his voice dropped. “Because who wouldn’t want to fall in love with you, Koko?"

He didn’t look at her, staring into the horizon. Even as he brushed his hand against hers. Okoye let him linger for a few seconds before she retreated. He cleared his throat as he sprung to his feet. As he held out a hand to help her to hers, she took it, not resisting.

“I hope your marriage grants you the happiness you deserve,” he murmured as he dropped his grip from her, “Don’t deny yourself any of it. Learn to live in the moment, hmm?” As Okoye withdrew, he braced his hands on her upper arms. “Promise me that. No more of this self-sacrifice sh*t…even if it’s netted you this union.”

His familiar, crooked smirk caused her to quietly chuckle to herself. Yet his eyes were solemn with his request. “I see your words,” she finally nodded.

“Good,” he pulled away.

Okoye called the transport to pick her up. Mentally exhausted, she had no need for another long walk. As it pulled up, they finally said their goodbyes. After GRIOT confirmed her identity and DNA signature, she stepped into the transport.

W’kabi didn’t leave the front porch for some time after the transport disappeared. Only the cat winding its way around his ankles brought him out of his distraction. Reaching down to pick it up, he gave it a comforting scratch behind the ears as he wandered back inside.

“I haven’t seen these many people come out for you since you were promoted to nacom," Abha cheerfully said as she playfully slapped Attuma on his back. She timed it just before he took his shot of balchéliquor. It nearly caused him to spill it, but he swiftly recovered to down it in one shot.

Shoving the obsidian tumbler into his sister’s hand, he took her by the shoulders. It allowed him to swiftly spin her in the direction of the carved stone decanter sitting on a round table in a curved corner of the grotto they were currently gathered in. Four streams of the liquor poured from various spigots into its pool. Recycled through pressurized tubes, it allowed people to easily place their cups under one of them for refills.

“Just for that, you can go get me more then,” he laughed into her ear.

Due to their height difference, he had to lean over. It didn’t prevent her from jabbing him in the ribs with an elbow. “You’re lucky I like you,” she guffawed at how he let out a surprised grunt before she headed over to the decanter. As she spotted her wife, Yolotli, Attuma knew she wouldn’t be back for some time.

The gathering to celebrate his wedding in less than seven days’ time contained a few hundred people from his batabil [village]. The natural wash of pale orange in the limestone of the open-air grotto reflected the deep verdant and azure of the wide pool that led to the open ocean via a large underwater tunnel at its edge. It was enhanced with the light of the bioluminescent worms naturally ensconced along the ceiling and dripping stalactites. The colors softened the pale blue skin of the Talokanil in their gill and mouth rebreathers. Along with the dizzying array of their exquisitely decorated clothing. Some flit around the expansive grotto, eating and drinking. Those who weren't remained in the pool, gossiping and catching up with each other. Around the perimeter of space, scattered groups of musicians played up tempo tunes. Pounding out a wavy rhythm on drums accompanied by rattles, flutes and trumpets whirled out their melodic notes.

This grotto was one of K’uk’ulkan’s most beloved. For it was the first one carved out by hand by his people. Granted to his mother for birthing their god king, he, Fen and their relatives dwelled there in their thatched and stone nah [homes] until her passing. In her honor, he blessed the grotto in her name and made it a public space for all. A remembrance for what she sacrificed in coming to the sea with her unborn son.

“Are you two ever serious?” an exasperated voice grumbled on Attuma’s other side.

“It’s always worth it to irritate the crabby thoughts right out of you, Noíl,” Attuma smirked before tossing an arm around his brother’s slim shoulders.

“I hope your wife will come to realize how insufferable you can be,” his brother sniffed.

“No more than yours does,” Attuma happily retorted. “How does she tolerate you?”

A brief smile flew to Noíl’s face. It lit up his lean features, causing his big, dark eyes to sparkle. “Unlike you, she proves as brilliant as they say the stars are above the waves.”

“I won’t argue that of Sayab,” Attuma sagely agreed. “Speaking of which, where is she?” he craned his head around the crowd.

Noíl let out a tired sigh. “Bedrest. The baby is itching to come and keeps her exhausted.”

Attuma flinched and drew in his brother closer. “You didn’t have to attend. I wouldn’t have been offended!”

“Yes, yes, I know,” Noíl dropped a hand to his brother’s forearm. “I wished to stay home but she insisted. She hurled a sandal at my head as I tried to linger,” he quietly laughed, "So I'll stay until Ku'kul'kan's blessing of your unusual union before heading home.”

"You have my thanks." Attuma pressed his forehead to his brother's as Noíl drooped his hands to his shoulders for a quick hug. “Kanantabáa, [Take care of yourself],” Attuma insisted, "And Sayab, of course."

His brother gave him a quick pat on the back before pulling away. “I’m sure our sisters will make sure they get home” he said as he nodded to his twins chattering with a group of others some ways from them.

The younger teenage girl, Patli, broke out into some sort of pounding foot dance move before fluttering her hands around. It caused her brother Pakal to chortle the loudest among them before she bumped shoulders with him. She did it so hard that she nearly dropped her plate of food. He swiftly steadied her before snatching away her plate and beginning to tear into it. It earned him her smack to the back of his head. Just enough to distract him and steal her plate back. Pakal rolled his eyes before deftly plucking a large slice of avocado from her meal to pop into his mouth.

Attuma couldn’t track his other sisters, Yaxkin or Itotia in the crowd but he knew they were here. Along with his parents.

The constant wave of his fellow villagers congratulating and wishing him blessings soon became a blur. He easily sensed their intense curiosity to over marrying a surface dweller. While they remained mostly polite, it still left him overwhelmed. Headache beginning to brew behind his eyes, he yearned for Adha’s return as he slipped away into a deserted alcove. It allowed him a few moments of peace due to being walled off by the viny growth of chacté, flowering purple yax niik and white habim plants. They nearly concealed him from everyone.

Well, save the ajaw [chieftan] of his batabil.

Gabor purposefully strode over and shoved aside the vines. His nostrils flared with so much disdain that Attuma wondered if his jade nose plug would pop right out. The ajaw didn’t bother to salute as he blustered, “You have the nerve to celebrate a marriage to an outsider?!”

“A meyajo'ob le jump'éel tojóolal, altísimo nojoch máak [Your presence is a blessing, most highelder],” Attuma replied through gritted teeth, bowing his head low and opening his palms in greeting. “May I remind you that it is Aj K’uk’ulkan who has flattered me with this festivity?”

Gabor gave a dismissive wave as he snatched out to clutch Attuma by the elbow. His hefty form belied his youth as a nacom. Then again, that’d been a lifetime ago, before elevation to administering Attuma’s batabil. He’d barely lifted a finger to do much of anything anymore.

Only by Attuma’s grace did he allow himself to be pulled to his feet from his seat on the bench. Hooded eyes darting around, Gobor leaned in and hissed, “You have been promised to my daughter since birth-!”

“My parents never finalized anything with the atanzahab [matchmaker]-”

“It was heavily implied!”

"Again," Attuma yanked his arm from his ajaw’s meaty grip, “I do not recall reaching that agreement with the matchmaker. Besides, me and Chimalmat have been no more than friends.”

“She speaks fondly of you,” the other man frowned, deep lines forming around his mouth. The shimmering feathers of his diadem shook as he bobbed his head in dismay, “Especially on your long absences when away on missions.”

“I think of her as well,” Attuma sniffed. “Yet she’s an acolyte of Alom. You know she is not allowed to marry until her service ends with 15 cycles of the Tzolkʼin calendar.”

“Aj K’uk’ulkan may easily grant her dispensation from that,” Gabor puffed up his wide chest.

“And bring upon the wrath of the gods?” Attuma furrowed his brow.

“He is our god-”

“He is not the only one,” Attuma retorted. “Chimalmat's covenant binds her. Her blood fed to the altar of the temple, her name has been inscribed within the stone scripts,” he snapped.

Gabor snorted. “The only way you may become ajaw of the batabil Kúuchil le k'áak'o' [Place of Fire] is by claiming my daughter.”

Rolling his eyes, Attuma backed away. “You manage that batabil but are not formally its chieftain-"

"I will soon be officially named its ajaw," Gabor preened. "With your marriage to my daughter, you will be my batab [administrator] and reap the fruits of my labor."

Attuma distantly wondered if Gabor constantly bending the ears of other ajaw to complain during their council meetings counted as "work."

"Even so, I assure you that I am the last person Chimalmat wishes to wed,”he retorted.

“Marriages have come from far less,” Gabor’s voice rose.

Attuma flexed his fingers at his side. Only respect for his ajaw’s position prevented him from turning heel and leaving the petulant man to rail at the empty walls. “Yes,” he grit out, “You are correct. Marriages like mine to Okoye of the Midnight Angels above are built on seeds. Nonetheless, they will sprout and thrive and we will unite our nations. I can think of no higher service to Aj K’uk’ulkan.”

“Your tragic lack of ambition will be your undoing,” the ajaw snarled. “You could rule the forges, gather a lord’s ransom in trade for access to them.”

“Is it that what you fear? That Aj K’uk’ulkan will soon hand over its rule to another?” Attuma scoffed, “For you’ve managed Kúuchil le k'áak'o' for far too many haab’ [years] in absence of the extinguished line of the original family that led its people.”

Gabor bared his teeth. “I have known you since you’ve smacked at your mother’s tit.” Attuma bristled, fury roaring in his ears as he squared his shoulders as the other man growled, “You’ve no right to your flaccid tongue of insolence, jach nojoch paal [overgrown boy].”

Attuma immediately shook off Gabor’s grasping hand from his wrist. Thankfully, he heard his name being called beyond the vines. It granted him an excuse to retreat rather than send his ajaw’s head spinning from his shoulders with a flurry of punches.

“Politics bear no interest and being a nacom proves enough for my spirit,” he barked with a press of his fist to his chest. Ignoring Gabor’s incensed expression, he looked behind his shoulder to see Abha and Yolotli marching over. “I believe I’m being called elsewhere,” he jerked his head in their direction. Judging by Yolotli’s irritated glare at the ajaw, she’d picked up on his need for her brother-in-law's swift extraction.

“About time I found you,” she loudly exclaimed. Barely granting Gabor a second look, she sneered out a tight greeting before dragging Attuma away. “Aj K’uk’ulkan needs you. Abha?” she called out to her wife next to her. His sister’s barely contained smirk deepened as she passed Attuma a fresh drink. Before Gabor could say another word, they disappeared into the crowd.

“I see Gabor remains constant with his usual sniveling sh*t,” Yolotli jeered.

“How could you tell?” Attuma furiously grunted.

“You looked ready to gut him and chum him to the sharks,” she slid a firm finger down where his blood vessel throbbed at his temple.

“I’d trade a host of sand stars to see it,” Abha chirped with a giggle.

“He’s our ajaw,” Attuma flatly retorted.

“A pity,” Yolotli snapped.

She led him to the front of the crowd and up a few steps to an elevated area that served as a stage. His brother, all of his sisters, their spouses and his parents immediately flanked him on either side.

Attuma reflexively leaned down to allow his mother to press her forehead to his since her full height was below his shoulder. Her heart shaped face and round cheeks held identical dimples to his as she then rubbed her rebreather to each of his cheeks.

“To think you soon married!” Colel beamed. However, her face fell as she added, “A surface dweller though?”

Attuma gave her hand an affectionate squeeze at his neck. “Come now, na’ [mama], I’ve told you of how she marked me as her own,” he fingers traced the scar on her cheek, “Ix Chel cannot be denied.”

Colel’s brief grin didn’t reach her hazel eyes as she shook her head. She still grasped her son by the shoulder.

Her smooth bronzed skin bore few wrinkles. It was made even more brilliant by her sunny yellow huipil gown. Black hair graying at her temples with a streak of white parted to the side was bound up in a tall top knot. Thin green and turquoise feathers outlined it. Their colors matched the near dozen jade and turquoise bracelets around each wrist. The tops of her ears covered with pointed jade cuffs rather than stretched, her white bone nose plug was inlaid with jade etchings.

Behind her, his father’s grimace was unmistakable. “How do we know this Wa’ha’kandon will not betray us to the demons above?” Zotz crossed his arms over the assortment of beaded necklaces around his neck.

Matching his wife’s bracelets, they hung in layers to his sternum under his billowy, sheer white shirt. A high-necked, knee length cloak of yellow matched Colel’s dress. His pale, belted pants were sheer below the knee, their cuffs matching the red and black shells beading the edge of his cloak. Tied around his greying dark brown hair pulled back into three vertical ponytails was a wide headband woven of grey leather. Square cut stones of red vibranium met in the center with a large, cross rose cut jade stone. Two dark brown rows of stripes were tattooed sweeping from the wrinkled corners of his eyes down horizontally across the tops of his high cheekbones.

Attuma leaned over to press his temple to his father’s. Zotz slightly relaxed as he swiftly reached up to rub small circles of comfort along his son’s upper shoulder. “These Wakandans,” Attuma subtly corrected the pronunciation, “Also have much to lose if their country is exposed. So similar to us, I swear to you.”

“Hmph,” Zotz huffed, “That does not burn away my worry,” he creased his brows. “You are a nacom, all-knowing of our blessed feathered serpent’s secrets.”

Attuma’s laugh echoed around them. “Not all, I assure you,” he shook his head in disagreement.

“They are still enough to destroy us should she be unable to keep her tongue to herself!”

“Yuum [father],” Attuma emphasized as he took his hands in his. His father nearly as tall as him, it was easy for their dark eyes to meet. “Aj K’uk’ulkan bore witness to her talents, negotiating our union himself. He would not lead us astray, hmm?”

Zotz pressed a calloused palm to his son’s cheek. “I simply wish you secure. Teech in tojóolal asab táankelem [You are my youngest blessing],” he whispered.

Attuma’s heart raced at the tremble of his father’s hand against him. Rapidly blinking, he missed a chance to reply as the flutes and horns of the musicians signaled K’uk’ulkan's approach. Those in the pool made their way to land. A roar of cheers exploded from everyone as their king strolled up on the stage in front of them.

Zotz’s narrow, nearly black eyes darted back and forth among the crowd. His mouth pressed into a thin line beneath his clear rebreather flattened his expression even more. However, his rigid posture eased as Colel slipped her hand into his. She silently nodded in reassurance as Zotz glanced down at their matching tattoos on their left wrists. Roughly two inches wide, they outlined seahorses trailing each other in a row. He let out a sigh of relief as his fingers began methodically tracing her design.

K’uk’ulkan wore his usual richly bold attire of golden pauldrons with a woven cape of striped crimson and orange. Jade beads zigzagged through its tight weave. His headdress less adorned than his fanged, enameled and gold serpent one, thick yellow feathers fanned out horizontally from its turquoise base.

After pulling Attuma towards him for a lingering press of their foreheads, K’uk’ulkan made the formal announcement of his marriage. What Attuma didn't expect were his next words.

With a raise of his hands to the heavens, the god-king’s command boomed out, “Líik'ik Talokan!” Reverberating across the grotto with everyone’s frenzied yell, he loftily looked on at how they raised their fists into the air. He would never tire of this sight to the end of his days.

“Chaac’s glorious revelation has blessed us, ensuring our people remain as one,” he sharply smiled as his luminous gaze swept the room. “That legacy shall be continued on this auspicious day as I name your beloved nacom, Xoc, Slayer of Sharks, Breaker of Oceans, to the far too long vacant position of ajaw of the batabil of Kúuchil le k'áak'o'. May their flames forever blaze under his guidance!”

Attuma froze in utter astonishment. Stomach twisting with dread, he barely comprehended his family’s flabbergasted congratulations on his elevation to chieftain. None in his direct ancestral line managed such an aspiration. Mostly on account of their avoidance of rule.

Surely Chaac would not curse him in such a way?!

Noíl sharply pinched his side, yanking him out of his bewilderment. “Kneel!” he ordered into his brother’s ear while dropping a heavy hand to his shoulder.

Attuma clumsily dropped to his knees. He barely registered K’uk’ulkan’s beseeching blessings from Baalham before he sliced open his own inner forearm with a bone-handled, obsidian knife. Pressing his skin caused his blood to flow into gold-rimmed, jade bowl an ah kin [priest] held before him. K’uk’ulkan’s wound healed within a few seconds.

By then, a priestess clad in a sleeveless, flowing, thinly pleated white huipil with jade and gold accents began slowly circling them. Her hands held a terracotta bowl carved into a snarling jaguar head. Filled with burning copal incense, its white smoke billowed upwards as she led chanting prayers. The shining black feathers of her headdress swayed with the duo of her gold beaded braids down her back as her steps sped up.

Her words were soon joined by the revelers in the cave. Along with the rising tempo of the drums and rattles. Their increasing cries echoed off the walls in hypnotic rhythm before Attuma’s family began their calls as well. Sweeps of K’uk’ulkan’s fingers then striped his blood across Attuma’s forehead, down each cheek, across his nose and then down his chin.

Two teenage acolytes then appeared from behind the crowd on the stage. They each held a stone bowl made of dark grey volcanic rock. One filled withroasted and ground cacao seeds, red chilies and cornmeal, the other contained purified, fresh water.

The chanted prayers continued as they combined the ingredients before repeatedly pouring the mixture from one bowl to another. They only stopped when it became heady with froth. One then took a knee and bowed their head before offering a full bowl of the xocolatl mixture to K’uk’ulkan.

Facing the crowd, he raised the bowl overhead. They fell silent as he called upon Baalham to cleanse all who bore witness. Blessing Attuma with wisdom, benevolence, a righteous heart and a swift and just spear, he sipped the xocolatl before passing it to Attuma. The warrior barely managed to stop his hands from shaking as he swallowed a bit of the sacred drink. He nearly dropped it from his sweaty palms before Zotz stepped forward and gently took it from him. After his turn to drink, he passed it to Colel. It then made its way through his family before the ah kin finished the last of it.

At K’uk’ulkan’s triumphant extolling of the newly installed ajaw of Kúuchil le k'áak'o', the crowd thundered with chants of, “Líik'ik Talokan!”

Attuma’s niece and nephew, Patli and Pakal, were the first of his family on either side of him. They excitedly congratulated him back and forth, finishing each other’s sentences as they usually did while helping drag him to his feet. He then stumbled forward into K’uk’ulkan’s embrace.

Cradling his face, the god-king pressed his forehead to Attuma’s.

“Meet u meentik yu'ubike' ku yu'ubikuba, paal áanteni', ti' a Bik le sukbenilo'ob [You have made me proud, my son, in your care for this nation],” he reverently murmured. “A k'aaba' yaan, ta'absilo'ob tuunich tak tu Xul [Your name will be cast in stone to the end]. You and your new bride will rule your new batabil with the wisdom I have come to expect of you both.”

Attuma could only silently nod. Blood pounding in his ears, he didn’t recall how he made it down the stairs. Looking out at the crowd, he flinched at the first face that met him.

Gabor’s stare bore icy hatred. Attuma snapped out of his daze as he refused to look away. Finally, the older ajaw turned to where his daughter mingled with the other priestesses of Alom.

Chimalmat’s gaze widening, her olive cheeks flushed before she frowned and positioned her back to her father. However, she soon broke away from her group and pushed through the crowd to meet Attuma. His siblings and Yolotli hauled her into the semicircle they’d swiftly formed around him.

"Forgive me,” Chimalmat deeply sighed. She clutched her fists so tightly in front of her that her rings made indentations on her palms. Wiping them down her verdant green gown crisscrossed from shoulder to hip with violet ropes of braided reeds finally allowed her to free her hands. “I swear I’ve made it abundantly clear for an age I have no wish for a union between us.”

Attuma nodded in agreement. “I know,” he muttered, “He knows.”

“Yet he refuses to see sense," Namora appeared at Attuma’s side."Perhaps Gabor needs it to be knocked into him.”

Dressed in a shimmering sapphire circle skirt with a swirl of preserved, blood red lobster scales crisscrossing it, their color matched the netted top over her form fitting, sleeveless purple chemise. It bared her toned stomach. Gold wires and jade beads were braided into her coiled hair wound about her head like a crown.

Chimalmat’s shaky grin met her. Namora seethed as she hauled Attuma and Chimalmat towards her with both hands. They stumbled behind her as she archly ordered, “We’re leaving.”

“But-”

“We’ll be back,” Namora promised Abha. “I’d rather disappear for a moment instead of taking up arms to Gabor's neck.”

Chimalmat slowly shook her head in agreement as she whispered, “He can be…difficult.”

“Your diplomacy is boundless,” Namora retorted as she guided them towards the back of the grotto, “Though yes, I won’t make you speak ill of your own father. I’ve plenty in me to do so.”

Silently slipping through a carved stone and iridescent shell door decorated with the profile of the god Chaac Uayab Xoc bringing in his fishing catch of the day, she looked back to make sure Attuma followed up their rear. He did, furtively glancing back to ensure no one noticed them. They didn’t appear to as he shut the door behind them.

There were multiple cenotes located in their ancestral surface lands in the Yucatan. These sinkholes were home to fresh groundwater the surviving land Maya still utilized in the region. The deepest of them contained a series of underwater caves that made it impossible for humans to traverse, even with scuba gear. Its passages were also far too narrow for any sort of submersible exploration. Linked to the grotto via an artificial tunnel constructed a couple of hundred years ago, only the most senior nacomo'o and batabo’ob were aware of it. It wasn’t technically off limits. But they kept its existence a secret among themselves.

The three of them used the tunnel to swim into one of the caves. A flare of yellow sunlight shined down from a narrow hole hundreds of feet above them. Combined with the bioluminescent and vibranium lanterns that decorated its bottom below, it all washed the trio in glowing light.The set their rebreathers on a ledge before diving in.

Chimalmat floated on her back facing the roof of the chamber and winding overgrowth of plants hanging overhead. The walls’ crystalline shot through with various minerals and acids cast them a faint pearlescent pink. Hearing the water bubbling beside her, she didn’t flinch as Namora suddenly surfaced. The warrior shook out her feathered braids for a quick moment before she started leisurely treading the water.

Attuma broke the surface on Chimalmat's other side and immediately flipped so that he also floated on his back to take in the roof. Chimalmat purposely splashed him, laughing as he sputtered. He paid her back in kind with a harmless kick to her calf.

“Are the both of you drunk on venom?” Namora groused, even as she moved to float on her back as well. She reached out and slipped her elbow into Chimalmat’s, giving her fingers a light squeeze.

“I miss those days,” Attuma sighed, “Everything was simple. None of this performance sh*t for people who don't wish me in their presence in the first place."

“You become familiar with the garbage,” Namora sniffed, "That’s why I only attend the bare minimum of the councils."

“But how do you stay informed?” Attuma retorted.

"Find a loyal assistor in an excellent batab who enjoys the politicking, knows all the gossip but who has no desire to rule,” Namora shrugged.

Attuma looked over at her, annoyed. "You make it sound easy-"

“Did I say it was?"

“No-”

“So you have your answer.”

Attuma wiped his hand down his face with an irritated growl. Turning to Chimalmat, he pled, "Can I nominate you, nojoch máaktal etail [old friend]?"

“Only as head priestess on your holpop council," he snorted out a laugh, "Nothing more, nothing less."

“You drive a hard bargain," he grumbled.

"This is just one of the infinite reasons why our marriage was doomed," she guffawed as she reached out to take his hand. Now, all three of them were connected to each other as they aimlessly floated around.

“Hmm,” Namora huffed in agreement. “At least you have a village to rule now. Though how will your precious surface warrior live in the depths?"

Attuma let out a thoughtful noise. "The Wakandan Princess of their Golden Tribe is an apparent prodigy. All of the K'u’lich tuunich we witnessed when we arrived to their land? Her inventions utilizing it began from the time she was a youngling. She rules the science labs, who in turn manage the infrastructure of their entire kingdom. She will find a way for my bride to live with me accordingly."

Attuma recalled the conversations he held with the Princess while he lived in the guest quarters as he courted his warrior. Mainly how she went into detail about the jade beads she created for him. Despite him not comprehending how they worked, her enthusiasm spoke volumes. As well as her years of experience in manipulating the K'u’lich tuunich despite her obvious youth. He also recalled Abha’s excitement in describing working with the Princess and Little Scientist to repair their satsun. Come to think of it, the Little Scientist was even younger than the Princess.

The words of his future father-in-law echoed in his mind. "...she encountered you and your attempts to kill a curious child she was only trying to save while also protecting our princess…"

"She should be queen with the death of her brother. She wastes her time tinkering,” Namora sniffed, breaking him out of his thoughts.

"Her mother rules in her stead," Attuma shrugged. "Better a monarch of experience than one unready. Or do you simply wish the panther cub on the throne for an easy defeat of their surface nation?” he quietly laughed.

Namora smirked. "You cannot deny we would have drowned them all with her inexperience had we faced her instead."

“You’re right, I will not. At the same time, we have a treaty and my marriage will seal it."

“It has clearly been ordained by Itzamna, father of all," Chimalmat added.

"I much prefer sacrificing the eels to Buluc Chabtan," Namora huffed.

Chimalmat nodded. "War has its place as well. We used it to bring these surface dwellers to us against the rest of their lot on land."

“We could rule over them instead," Namora tossed back.

"Their people do not strike me as foes who would easily surrender," Attuma quietly retorted. "They showed no fear during their negotiations and their tribes seemed ready to protect their queen to their deaths."

“Noble fools can still be ground into the depths," Namora shrugged.

"And the noblest of them is to be my wife. Guard your tongue," Attuma chuckled despite the warning dancing around the edges of his words.

Namora's laugh brokered little sympathy. "By becoming yours, she will be of Talokan. Of course, I do not speak ill of her since she will be ours now."

“So you welcome her with open greetings?" Chimalmat asked with surprise.

"To ensure she does not embarrass us with her land ways? I must," Namora scoffed. "She will be a fellow child of Aj K’uk’ulkan, after all."

“Do not forget that, Namora," Attuma emphatically replied.

"You will make it impossible to,” she rolled her eyes. "Besides, you cannot be broken apart since she drew your blood first. You're stuck together through many lifetimes now. Good blessings on all that," she sarcastically replied.

"As it should be," Attuma reverently retorted as his hand swayed to rub at the scar on his cheek.

Chimalmat gasped as she rolled over. Tentatively reaching out, her fingers reverently brushed the scar. "So the rumors are true, you are blood bonded?" Attuma silently shook his head. "You are a fortunate man, to be so kissed by the gods," she giddily smiled. "I will offer my blood in thanks to Xmucane and Xpiacoc for matching you to your blessed bride. The copal will burn all night in your honor."

“I am grateful for your prayers," Attuma moved to tread the water so that he could press his forehead to hers.

"More like you're grateful you really don't have marry him now," Namora snorted in amusem*nt, "The gods clearly favored you as well, Chim."

The acolyte's laughter echoed in the cave as Attuma dipped below the surface to yank Namora under it by her foot. She sputtered before her gills fluttered with breathing under water. A split second later and she dug her fingers into his stomach. It was swiftly followed by a kick to his solar plexus. Attuma doubled over with a muffled yelp as Namora sped off downward. Chimalmat laughed even louder at the sight before diving below. She caught up with the duo as they raced to the bottom of the cenote.

For now, all they could do was temporarily escape the politics of the pending nuptials with a bit of watery fun hidden from the rest of the world.

With the rainy spring season mostly over, the temperatures in the capital city of Birnin Zana began to climb. As a result, Nakia, Aneka and Shuri convinced Okoye to have her Bride Welcoming ceremony begin roughly an hour before sunset three days before the Wakandan wedding. The lower temperatures would also be more agreeable to the visiting Talokanil, considering their comfort at the bottom of the ocean. Not to mention, the glorious sunset for them to witness.

It wasn’t lost on Okoye that this marriage had her going against the matrilineal traditions of the groom coming to live in his wife’s home. Instead, her first three months would be spent going off to live with the groom.

She appreciated how her father surreptitiously took her hand in his at his side. His action caused her to stop rocking back and forth ever so slightly on the balls of her feet as they waited for the Talokanil to arrive. They were set to meet them at the river bend at the palace's pleasure gardens. The same place they'd housed them after they invaded and while they negotiated their marriage treaty. Shuri made an additional multitude of upgrades to the space as well.

Tanisko leaned over to murmur into Okoye's ear, "Klungile ukuba novalo [it is alright to be nervous]."

Her scoff of disagreement sent Shuri chuckling to herself on Okoye's other side. Standing next to the Princess, Nakia closed her eyes and slightly shook her head with a brief grin. Okoye glanced down to her kimoyo needs to see a notification from her with a gif of a popular Wakandan music artist manically laughing and saying, “sh*t be crazy” in Xhosa. The bride to be couldn’t hold in a spit take of a laugh. It caused Tanisko to quietly join her.

The stirring of the river snapped them all to attention. Okoye was immediately reminded of how Attuma emerged from the water for their sparring session a few weeks back. Near silent but hulking. Except he wore no armor or his hammerhead headdress this time.

Half his dark tresses tied back into a handful of braids formed an intricate bun. It was shot through with short, speckled, black and white feathers that formed a plumed halo. The rest of his curling hair flowed down his back. A dark green cloak swept over his shoulder and banded across his exposed torso with a yellow strap. Geometric patterns of black and gold pearls flowed along its edges. Draped down the side of the cloak were white crystalline petals made to form the shape of orchids native to the Yucatan. The strap matched his golden woven hip cloth that fell nearly to his ankles. The black sash of its center was emblazoned with a circle of grey and white various sharks outlined with matching seed pearls.

Okoye found herself distracted at the resplendent sight. She nearly missed the older Talokanil couple trailing behind him. Their clothes were as colorful and heavily decorated as his. Their rebreathers were also clear like Attuma's, allowing their full faces to be seen. They each carried a green basket woven of striped black and green kelp-like leaves.

“It is with great pride that we welcome you to our homeland of Wakanda,” Shuri announced. Her voice broke the long silence where the three Talokanil stood on the riverbank in front of them. Words translating through her kimoyo beads, she bowed with the Wakandan salute in their direction.

Attuma granted her the Talokanil salute. His eyes were turned low before he fixed them to Okoye. Her halter top jumpsuit spun of deep blue silk was patterned with the traditional white circles of the Border Tribe along the wide, accordion pleated legs. It was also trimmed in crimson to represent her father's Mining Tribe. Attuma grinned at the jade dzilla with its dangling gold shark tooth charm she wore around her neck. The latest of his courting gifts.

Okoye gave him a silent nod and the Wakandan salute. Nakia and Tanisko did the same.

“I present in taata yéetel in na' [my father and mother], Ah Manik Zotz Ytzab and Ix Colel Noh B'atz,” Attuma proudly announced. Backing away allowed his parents to step forward as they each opened their palms and bowed their heads in welcome.

His mother spoke first, words translated aloud on everyone’s beads. “We admire your charming reception of us to this sacred land of your ancestors,” Colel's voice rang out, melodic and steady.

“My beloved sun speaks of my esteem,” Zotz muttered. Okoye didn’t miss how Colel slightly elbowed her husband. It seemed to cause him to swiftly add, “Much has been spoken of this…abundant land.”

Shuri waved over Aneka who accompanied them. The Midnight Angel wore a blue uniform similar to that of the Dora Milaje. While she held her golden spear, it was at resting stance. Reaching into the pouch around her waist produced two jade kimoyo beads she handed to the Princess.

“For you,” Shuri declared, holding them up in the direction of Zotz and Colel.

Attuma's parents awkwardly looked to their son. He held up his left wrist with his jade kimoyo beads and rattled off something too fast for the translation to fully catch except for, “Language…understand.”

The two hesitantly nodded as Shuri approached. Looking to Attuma, she co*cked her head to the side before he gestured for his parents to hold out their wrists. They slowly did so and allowed her to slip on the bracelets. Various presses of her fingers to the beads illuminated them light purple for a few seconds. Attuma then bid his parents to step to the side before relaying the required test phrases so that the AI could acclimate to their individual voices.

Zotz brows were nearly to his forehead in wonder. “They may understand all we say now?”

“We can,” Shuri sunnily replied as the AI from the Talokanil’s bracelet relayed his words recreating his voice to sound more natural. “They are yours to keep.”

“You have our thanks,” Colel tightly replied.

Shuri then led their entire party to the palace through its rear gardens. Attuma swiftly moved to shadow Okoye. She found herself slowing her pace to allow him to walk beside her.

“Your absence from my presence feels an age,” he hummed. It was low enough that no one else could hear him. Or at least they pretended not to. “Nearly 14 k’ins [days] now.”

The heavily warm feel of his hand at the small of her back nearly caused her to falter in her steps. She was glad she managed to evenly answer, “It’s been a while, yes. It is our tradition for the couple to rest in their interactions.” Looking up to find him fondly taking her in, she smirked, “A tease that helps them appreciate each other with more attachment.”

“A cruel tradition,” he grinned behind his clear rebreather, “For all it did was invade my mind with thoughts of you.”

Images of her dreams with him in all sorts of compromising positions together spun through her head. Okoye took a deep breath before she tentatively replied, “I can admit to the same.”

His smile nearly rivaled the intensity of the sunset before them. She reached down to draw his arm from around her waist to take his hand in hers. It felt startlingly natural. Especially as he gave her a slight squeeze.

A duo of Dora Milaje stood by the massive double doors leading into the Talokan side of the guest quarters. At Shuri’s command, the rhythmic pounding of their spears into the stone pathway caused the doors to flash shades of vivid purple. Slowly opening revealed an immense atrium. It held skylights and tiling similar to the room where the treaty and marriage were negotiated. Though instead of a deep fountain at its center, a shallower pool held partially submerged chairs surrounding a round, black vibranium table. Within its center lay a smaller, flat, deep blue tiled circular tray.

Shuri instructed everyone into the pool to sit. It was knee deep on most as they did so according to their place cards. As was tradition, the parents of the bride and groom sat together on one side and facing the couple. Shuri seated herself next to them. Attuma and Okoye flanked her directly across from their parents with Nakia on Okoye’s other side.

Shuri insisted that the Talokanil immediately inform her of any discomfort. Zotz and Colel nodded in understanding as they sat together with Tanisko in between Colel and Nakia.

With that, Shuri tapped one of her kimoyo beads. A hidden door in one of the walls slid open to reveal a parade of servants gliding out. Each carried a serving tray they then set on a handful of floating rimmed ones at the lip of the pool. The floating trays whirled to life to cut through the water to where the party was seated. With food efficiently delivered to all, the circular tray in the center of their table could be spun to allow everyone easy access to the various cuisines.

Discussing the blend of Wakandan and Talokanil food provided slowly broke the ice between Tanisko, Zotz and Colel. It proved a safe subject to start their discussions. For the main point of the Bridal Welcoming was for in-laws to become acquainted with each other. Nakia’s quick wit added to it. Being a spy had its benefits in training her how to ask subtly leading questions that soon had the Talokanil opening up more and more.

Roughly an hour or so into their meal, Zotz raised a hand and quietly asked for everyone’s attention. He brought up his woven basket and set it in front of him before declaring he wished to make his presentation to the bride.

Okoye blinked in surprise, her back tensing. As this hadn’t been fully discussed. Though looking back, it certainly explained why Attuma was so deeply inquisitive about the concept of a bride price during the treaty negotiations. She’d tersely declared that he shouldn’t concern himself with it. For she was not being sold to anyone. Their arranged marriage sealing a political treaty was reminder enough of the mercenary nature of their union.

Taking a few deep breaths, Okoye forced a serene look on her face as she suppressed the rising expectation of a pending disaster. Even she could admit the Welcoming had so far gone smoothly. There was also the fact that this was her betrothed's first marriage versus her second. So it would be all new to him and his parents. Nakia’s comforting hand on her stiff knee helped settle her as well.

Zotz carefully unwrapped a damp cloth of red to reveal various chili seeds. Deeper in the basket were 13 cocoa pods. "Our son told us of the extensive garden behind your home," he slowly began. "We wish you to add these to it. 13 is an auspicious number for our people," he counted the pods before passing the basket across the table.

Okoye found herself genuinely touched by Attuma's observation. She bowed her head and crossed her chest with her arms. "You grant me the highest of honors, Baba [Father] Zotz."

His face brightened as he replied, "The seeds are from my own garden."

"I will watch over their growth with as much care as you have," Okoye solemnly replied, "I swear it."

Looking to his wife, he nodded as Colel flipped open the lid of her own basket.

"A bride is expected to present herself as she is loved by her husband. His ch'i'ibalil [family] reflects such by their provisions to her as well. For generations, my ancestors have woven the livery of our blessed Aj K’uk’ulkan. That tradition continues with me. May you put these to the same good use for your wardrobe beneath the waves."

Okoye' eyes widened at this revelation while Colel carefully placed a neatly folded stack of fabric before her. Over half a dozen squares of cloth were embroidered with a multitude of traditional patterns. Their bright shades of turquoise, yellow, and orange along with saturated jewel tones of purple, dusky navy blue and green beautifully complimented Okoye’s rich russet skin.

She had no idea why it inexplicably proved so overwhelming. Blinking back tears that suddenly seemed to inundate her, she took a deep inhale as her fingers brushed the edges of the fabrics. Upon closer inspection, they were mostly of the same delicate yet resilient threads as the shawl Attuma gave her as one of his first courting gifts.

Nakia glanced at her before hastily taking Okoye’s other hand in hers under the table and smiling, “You do us a remarkable honor with these most precious of gifts, Ix Colel Noh B'atz.” Colel’s smile lit up the room at Nakia’s smooth enunciation of her full name.

“I…” Okoye trailed off. Attuma leaned closer to her, the feel of his arm against her settling her tumultuous thoughts. “This is greatly appreciated,” she finally managed to say, “Your kindness is boundless, Umama [mother] Colel.”

Colel opened her palms towards her. “My son speaks of nothing but the highest of you. It is our duty to fully welcome you into our nation.”

“Intliziyo yam enkosi [My heart thanks you],” Okoye swore.

“I guess now would be a good time to present what I’ve brought,” Tanisko humbly shrugged with a secretive grin.

Okoye wasn’t sure if she could take any more surprises as he nodded to Shuri. The Princess tapping her beads once again opened the hidden door to reveal two servants. One carried a large wooden and vibranium cask while the other held a large decanter and trio of etched glassware. They set the cask on the side of pool while sending the decanter and glasses to Tanisko via one of the automated trays.

Okoye’s father cleared his throat and turned towards Attuma’s parents as he uncorked the decanter. Pouring three shots of an amber colored liquor smelling of treacly vanilla and citrus, he raised his glass. “Part of our marriage rights include the parents of the bound couple taking the drink of hwahwa liquor in their honor. This I’ve brewed since Okoye told me of her coming nuptials to Attuma.”

Raising his glass, he clinked it against Colel’s and Zotz’ before gesturing for them to sip it. Zotz let out a low, impressed whistle while his wife licked at her lower lip before putting back on her rebreather.

“Forgive me, as it is unusually sweet due to its short curing period. It will be fully ready in six months when the sorghum and honey have settled,” Tanisko waved at the cask. “This is why I grant you a full amount to try when that time comes.” GRIOT translated the time into that of the Mayan calendar, causing the Talokanil to nod in appreciation.

“Your hands hold great talent,” Colel clinked her glass once again to Tanisko’s after he poured her another one. “I may only imagine how delightful this will be when it completes its time within,” she nodded at the cask.

Zotz adamantly agreed. “My wife speaks nothing but the truth,” he raised his glass with a grin.

“This is for tonight then,” Tanisko joyfully announced with a shake of the decanter.

He poured everyone else a serving into their cups, using the circular tray to send it around. A toast in honor of Okoye and Attuma was had before dinner continued.

By now everyone appeared completely at ease. At Tanisko’s questions, Colel patiently led him through the pronunciation of her and husband's names. It prompted Okoye to ask the same of Attuma.

“So what exactly is your full name?” she arched a brow.

“The name 'Ah K’ib Attuma Ytzab B'atz' is the one of my birth.” At her questioning look he shrugged, “I was born on the 16th day, K’ib, of our spiritual calendar, the Tzolkin. All boys are granted the day of their birth as their first name. ‘Attuma’ is my singular name my parents then decided.”

“Ah,” she nodded, “And you carry both your parent’s surnames?”

He tapped his fingers on the table. “A bit unusual. For children are generally granted a combination of their parents’ names. However, my mother is of ch'i'ibalil [family] B'atz. Descended from an ancestor couple who fled into the sea with K’uk’ulkan’s sacred mother. Hence, mother’s name commands a legacy higher than my father's. So all of the B'atz descendants carry the name, regardless of sex.”

Okoye cleared her throat before her eyes met his. “Am I still allowed to call you ‘Attuma?’ It seems rather informal now.”

“Always. You are to be my wife, the closest of my kin," he reverently murmured. "There are no formalities between us. Though you may feel differently considering 'Ah K’ib Attuma Ytzab B'atz' are not my only names.”

His low laugh soothed her as he slid his hand closer to hers. She didn’t resist as he intertwined his pinkie finger with hers.

“I am also Xoc, Slayer of Sharks,” he tapped his chin with its shark tooth piercings. “Then for my duties in leading missions upon the surface that protect our kingdom so wholly, I was granted the auspicious title of ‘Breaker of Oceans’ by my feathered serpent god, K’uk’ulkan.”

“So it is fully Ah K’ib Attuma Ytzab B'atz Xoc, Slayer of Sharks, Breaker of Oceans?” she slowly strung it all together. “Certainly a mouthful.”

Attuma smirked and leaned over, his rebreather brushing the shell of her ear. “Which is why I prefer you simply call me ‘Attuma.’ It’s far easier to say in the throes of our bedding rituals.”

Okoye’s cheeks burned, even as she lightly smacked his hand. It did nothing except make him smile even more as he lifted it and turned it over to rub his rebreather against her inner wrist. She was glad the table covered their legs so he couldn’t see her squeezing her thighs together at the fiery promise of his gaze.

Yet she refused to be undone. Squaring her shoulders caused her breasts to bounce and his eyes to drift downward. Experimentally sliding her hand down the table had her purposely resting it over his upper thigh. Thick, solid muscle covered by his hip cloth met her palm. Showing no outward reaction to more heady evidence of his strength, her bold smile had him staring at her crimson painted lips. A sway of her head and her words brushed his nose only a few inches from hers.

“Of course, my own name falling from your mouth with such wild abandon will sound just as satisfying. If not more so, yes?”

It was impossible to miss how his nostrils flared under his rebreather. The feel of his hand grasping hers on his thigh only reinforced his awareness. Okoye nearly waved Shuri away as she pulled the two of them back into conversation with their respective parents across the table.

Time now passed faster than either party expected. Before they knew it, GRIOT announced it was nearly two hours to midnight. Okoye blinked as Attuma effortlessly moved to his feet and held out his hand to take. She did so and he hauled her up to stand next to him.

She watched in fascination as he and parents’ quick dip to fully submerge themselves in the water did nothing to leave them in disarray. If anything, their clothes flowed in graceful lines around them before they popped back above the surface.

Torches brightly lit the pathways of the pleasure gardens. Zotz asked a surprising amount of questions about the various flora and fauna as they all made their way back to the riverbank. Shuri chattered out her answers, GRIOT chiming in with its deeper explanations. Zotz’s reserved smile appeared genuine as she offered him cuttings of whatever he wished despite not being sure if they’d survive in Talokan’s environment. She also promised to test them in a watery environment in her lab.

Okoye gathered them, carefully slicing off specimens with Attuma’s gifted knife. Colel ambled behind her to collect them in her kelp basket. Tanisko and Nakia followed in their wake.

None of the Wakandans expected Attuma’s parents to press their rebreathers to each of their cheeks after granting them the Talokanil salute. When they arrived to Okoye at the end of the line, Zotz tentatively dropped his hands to her shoulders to give her a quick touch of his forehead to hers.

“I will never cease worrying for in tojóolal asab táankelem [my youngest blessing],” he murmured.

“Baba does the same for me,” she lifted her chin.

“No good parent ever ends their watch,” he nodded over to where Tanisko vainly looked as though he was engrossed in conversation with Shuri. Except his attention remained on his daughter.

Zotz’s distant chuckle surprised her. “I will always wonder if this union is wise,” he withdrew his hands from her. “I have no personal grief towards you. Nor your Princess. Except we have learned hard, murderous lessons of the deceptive ways of surface dwellers. For my son to marry one when he's battled them all his life will alter the history of our civilization. That cannot be denied.”

Okoye waved between them. “Another similarity, as he is not the only one in this marriage. Your king chose us as the first nation to reveal himself to. We do not take that lightly,” she turned her palms upward in understanding. “The surface dwellers who seek to steal from you are the same colonizers that destroyed much of the continent around us.”

“Hence this alliance,” Zotz sighed.

“It will not be undone,” she firmly replied.

“Nor delayed for a proper courting haab’ [year]?”

She glanced to where Attuma now joined her father and Nakia’s conversion. His mother stood by his side, eagerly gesturing with her hands. “Colonizers grant no quarter,” Okoye swore, “Nor are they benevolent to any show of fragility.”

“Ah, and this is why I am no warrior. I stick to my tailoring,” Zotz rubbed his fingers together “I have no stomach for leading war. It has always suited my child. You so evidently, as well.”

With that, he opened his palms in goodbye as Colel moved to his side. She did the same. Her solid hold of Okoye’s hands allowed her to brush her rebreather to her cheeks for a lingering moment.

The Bride Welcoming traditionally included close chaperoning of the couple. While the custom wasn’t as closely followed in modern times, it was respected in this instance due to the significance of this marriage to their respective kingdoms. That left Attuma and Okoye to say their goodbyes at a distance. It still didn’t stop them from eying each other before Attuma easily hauled the barrel of hwahwa over his shoulder and turned to lead his parents swimming into the river.

Tanisko looped an arm around his daughter’s elbow as she stood gazing at the now still water. The two of them were the last remaining on the riverbank. The moon rose nearly full above them.

“The sly shark has on grown you?”

“A bit,” she vaguely shook her head.

Tanisko’s knowing look had her rolling her eyes, causing his laugh to spill out. “It is a good omen!” he insisted. Her huff granted her his loud chortle as he guided them back to their rooms at the palace. They’d stay there until a few days after the first Wakandan ceremony took place and before heading to Talokan for the second one.

With the wedding looming, the soon to be bride and groom both wondered what would come in the aftermath of their binding.