That night and the kiss that followed were not discussed between the two of them in the days following. There was no need to, for the events spoke for themselves.

Their relationship had changed; the remaining barrier of awkwardness had been torn down. Medusa no longer asked to have her hair combed; she would come wordlessly and he would take the comb and begin. He started to forego his gloves, combing with bare hands in the silken strands, and Medusa understood his want, his need for touch, so she didn't mind.

They were comfortable with each other, becoming content with their new affection.

Then one day, Agon summoned them.

"What do you suppose he wants to speak with us about?" Medusa asked, exiting her room into the hallway where Blackagar stood.

Blackagar shrugged. I'm not sure.

"I hope he didn't find out about…you know." She gave him a meaningful look, a smile tugging at her lips.

He shook his head. I don't think so.

"I hope not," she murmured, primping the last bit of hair into place.

Blackagar offered her his arm which she gladly accepted, and they went off together.

Agon awaited them alone in the meeting room. When the two of them entered, he turned to them, a fond smile appearing on his face. "Ah, it is good to see the both of you."

Medusa curtsied and Blackagar bowed in response.

"Please sit," he said gesturing to the empty chairs that surrounded the meeting table.

They did as he bid silently, sharing an expectant glance.

"I know you are wondering why I have called you here today," said Agon, taking a seat across from them. "Based on what I have observed and what you yourselves have said, am I correct to believe you are both bonding and becoming closer?"

Both nodded.

"Excellent. Now on to the matter at hand." Agon folded his hands on the table in front of him. "Next week will be the first of biannual Christenings, and I can think of no better time to introduce the heirs of Attilan to the common people."

Medusa instinctively glanced at Blackagar, and his eyes were wide and alarmed. "The Christenings, Your Majesty?" she asked, struggling to keep her voice even. "That is such a momentous occasion, and I am not sure if either of us are—"

Agon waved away her doubts with a hand. "Do not be so unsure of yourself, my dear. I know it may seem like a daunting event, especially for a first appearance, but it is truly not as bad as you may presume."

Medusa was about to respond, but Blackagar cut her off before she could. His hands flew in a flurry of motions so fast and complex she couldn't decipher most of them as he communicated with his father, but she knew when his fingers went up to his lips that he was concerned over his voice.

"You worry too much, my son," said Agon when his hands stilled. "Every Inhuman knows how some powers are more…limiting than others. Once they meet you, they will see that there is nothing to fear, not that there was anything in the first place."

Blackagar looked unsatisfied but he nodded anyway, letting his hands fall back into his lap.

Agon turned his attention back to the both of them. "I would not do this if I did not think you were both ready for it."

Medusa dipped her head, restraining the anxious tremble of her hair. "Of course, Your Majesty."

/

Blackagar's fingers twitched as he paced his room, betraying his anxiety.

"It won't be as bad as you think it will be," Medusa said, though she could not muster enough courage to make her words sound convincing. The thought of facing thousands of people for the first time, appearing to them as the rulers to come made her every bit as anxious as he.

He turned to face her. This will be formality, and you cannot read my words quickly. There will be no time for long pauses to translate.

"I try my best!" Medusa exclaimed, her temper flaring at his words and her hair with it.

Blackagar held up his hands in a placating gesture. I am sorry. I meant to say that there will be no room for mistakes in front of all the people.

Medusa's hair deflated. "Oh. You're right." She sighed, feeling ashamed for jumping to conclusions. "Well, we can practice."

Blackagar considered it for a moment before nodding. Yes. Let us practice.

/

"So what is it we are doing?" Gorgon asked, clomping up to stand beside Karnak and Triton.

"We need to practice for the Christening next week," Medusa said. "We need to work on formality as well as my understanding of his signs."

Gorgon nodded, satisfied with this explanation. "Alright. What do you want us to do?"

"You are the people who have come to the Christening," she said, pointing to the trio. "Black Bolt and I," she gestured to the two of them, "are simply the Crown Prince of Attilan and his betrothed." As the last word left her lips she realized just how little she had thought about their betrothal over the past few days, and it was a good thing, she supposed.

"So…we act like mothers holding their screaming bundles of irritation?"

"Yes," said Medusa. "And don't forget, we were all…" she glanced Blackagar's way, "er, most of us were those screaming bundles of irritation once." She smirked at Gorgon. "You still are, dear cousin."

Gorgon shot a scowl her way, but before he could respond Blackagar signaled for them to begin. Grumbling something under his breath, the hoofed Inhuman stepped forward, doing a poor and wobbly imitation of a curtsy.

"Your Majesties," he said in a shrill pitch, obviously an attempt at sounding female.

Medusa snorted, struggling to keep her composure as she shot a glance towards Blackagar. He signed to Gorgon, and it took her a few moments to process each sign and put them into words.

"Prince Blackagar says he is glad of your presence," she said in her best regal tones, returning her gaze to Gorgon.

Gorgon shrugged. "I see no problems with your translation and delivery."

"I can't spend forever just staring at him and trying to translate his signs," she argued. "It has to be swift."

"If you say so," he grumbled.

"Yes, I do say so."

Blackagar smirked.

So they practiced. They repeated the same action over and over again, Blackagar signing and Medusa translating for him. Every now and then he would switch up his signs, giving Medusa an opportunity to learn more signs.

Even when their cousins were not with them, they found ways to practice. Medusa would bring her book at night as she always did, and after Blackagar had combed her hair he would take the book. He would start signing words as he read, and it was up to her to read them back to him.

She was shaky at first, the swiftness of his hands and the complexity of his signs making her go frustratingly slow. But they practiced every free moment they had, and she became better at interpreting his signs, and him as a whole it seemed. Eventually she only had to glance at him to know his signs. The guesswork of their relationship had decreased drastically over the course of a week of intensive practice.

The next thing they knew, it was the night before the Christening, and they sat together in Blackagar's room.

"Are you ready for tomorrow?" Medusa asked with a sigh.

He frowned. Not really.

"Neither am I." She sighed again. They hadn't had much of a chance to just talk since the night on the beach. Every moment was filled with practicing signs. Their presentation to the people of Attilan had to be perfect.

But now there was a moment of respite. They had done all they could, for tomorrow was the Christening.

Memories of the beach surfaced as she gazed at him. She remembered the feeling of solid, warm muscle pressed against her torso and a strong arm around her waist. She could still feel the night air on her skin and the soft touch of his lips on her flushed cheek.

She was embarrassed to find herself desiring that again. Not to fly, but to be near to him, to be in that intimate moment of openness. Such thoughts were considered indecent, she assumed, but should a princess not desire her prince?

Blackagar tilted his head. What is it?

Medusa blinked, realizing she was staring. "Oh, it's nothing. I was just thinking."

About what?

"Just…" She searched for something that wasn't thoughts about desiring to be near him. "I was just thinking about how tomorrow, we will truly be the future of Attilan." She shrugged. "I mean, we have been, but it hasn't been solidified by the people. Tomorrow, however…" She trailed off.

Blackagar gave her a knowing look. In a bold move, he reached out and took her hand, enfolding it in the palms of his own larger ones. His gloves were gone, and the warmth of his skin seeped into hers.

We will do well, the gesture said, and he brushed a thumb across her knuckles.

Medusa's heart jumped a little, but it was far less awkward than it would have been a week ago. "I can't help but be nervous."

I am too.

Reluctantly, she withdrew her hand from his. "I know it's early, but I have to get to bed. You should, too. It's a big day tomorrow." She stood, and he did to. Unexpectedly, he reached out and touched her arms, just below her shoulders.

"What is it?" she asked, genuinely confused.

I am glad you are my betrothed, Medusa. He knew she did not know what the gesture meant, so he merely smiled and let his hands drop.

She gave him an odd look, her skin tingling where he had touched. "Alright…"

Good night.

"Good night." Despite his odd gesture, she left with a smile.