35. Wedding Day
Shuri smoothed out her beautiful Talokan dress. Her headdress was similar to his but had soft, black panther ears. The base of her dress was white, but the assorted jewelry made her look colorful. She had to argue for some Wakandan sensibilities like the Ankara pattern at the end of the dress and the traditional wedding face paint. She was already giving up so much.
Her groom was arguably handsome. It had to be with effort that he kept the smugness off his face. During his vows, she swore Namor almost got choked up. His steady gaze never left hers even when his eyes threatened to swim with water.
Maybe her mother's eyes wouldn't have been dry either at her only daughter's wedding if—
But it was no time for that train of thought. She murmured and mumbled through her own vows. Namor's vows were beautiful and poetic.
Hers was only "I'll try not to kill him, and enjoy his pretty eyes." She only added the compliment as a concession though a younger Shuri from what felt like a lifetime ago had once gotten lost in them. His eyes were both warming and dark and murky like the depths of the ocean.
The Talokans in attendance clapped loudly either thinking she was funny, not understanding her English, or celebrating at the sincere smile on Namor's face. Her guess was the language barrier though she was sure Attuma and Namora understood. Nakia and M'Baku cringed. The Dora Milaje didn't smile in solidarity with their princess making the best of the situation. Only Toussaint smiled and bounced on his feet at the wedding celebrations.
The Wakandan wedding drums were beaten mightily, and the citizens couldn't say no to a good time.
With no hesitation, Namor finished vowing to love and kill for her. To warm her bed and stimulate her mind. To care for their children. To protect both their kingdoms. He accepted the marriage.
It felt as if every eye in Wakanda was tuned into Shuri's face. Namor tried to remain expressionless, but his eyes spoke for him. His hands holding hers trembled slightly.
"Before Bast and the beyond, Princess Shuri daughter of T'Chaka and Ramonda—" The Wakandan priest began. "Do you take K'uk'ulkan as your beloved? Your chosen one?"
This was nothing she would have chosen for herself. Closing her eyes, she reimagined the girlish thought she had when she first met him. The silly fleeting thought of how he'd look in a Wakandan wedding kaftan standing beside her.
She swallowed and forced herself to breathe through her nose. The music in the background and the people talking were muffled sounds compared to the noise of her own thoughts.
"Princess," he whispered. "Don't stall."
Shuri registered the feeling of Namor's strong hands clasping her own and the smell of mint on his breath. But her mind was elsewhere. It was what gave her peace. The night to come.
"I accept him as my husband," she said, her voice unwavering. Shuri met his gaze head-on, giving his hands a squeeze.
Namor visibly relaxed. A smile spread across his face. He got what he wanted, but she'd get what she wanted that night.
When he cupped her face, she let herself melt into the kiss. A few seconds longer than anyone would have required her to, she let her lips linger on his. Let her hand trail up his sturdy arm. Let him steady her from the lightheadedness she felt.
They pulled apart to cheering, even from the Wakandan people most likely swept away by emotions and a good wedding beat.
Their eyes were both half-lidded. If his mouth were any testament to his lovemaking, he wouldn't be a disappointment. In another universe, maybe they would enjoy themselves in the passion of love.
He drew close to her ear. His new smile not reaching his eyes. "Stop while you're ahead. Any attempts will be futile."
Shuri stroked his cheek, feeling for the hair that began at his jawline.
"Shh, husband, kiss me again" was her only reply.
He kissed her again, shorter and quicker. But the knowingly look in his eyes didn't go away nor did the momentary sad one.
36. Reception
After their couple's wedding dance, food had been served. Talokan food wasn't in any way soggy. The spices were just as rich and savory as Wakandan food.
Shuri licked her fingers, unwilling to waste any seasonings and juice. She was tempted to lick the plate clean. But she held herself back not wanting to give Namor the satisfaction.
Namor had eaten a plate of Wakandan BBQ miraculously without a messy mouth. A true god indeed. He watched her closely while eating his garden salad.
"Does the princess desire more?" one of the Wakandan attendants asked. The woman smiled brightly, gesturing to a large serving plate of dinner rolls and dollops of jollof rice.
"Yes! Yes!"
A sly look came into his eyes as he took a roll for himself, dipping it into the puddle of butter on Shuri's plate. "It's said a woman who loves to eat wants to be doubly satisfied as well."
The woman's eyes widened and Shuri refused to choke. If only Namor knew what he was in for.
"Enough!" She hissed at him. "Thank you so much, Temi."
Shuri frowned, poking his chest covered for once, as Temi scurried away.
"You know all the attendants' names. You thanked each personally. They hold you in high esteem."
"If you're impressed, just say that."
"If I did, you couldn't accept it, now, could you?"
"You don't know what I can accept. I've accepted many burdens. I accept this even now." She gestured to him then back to herself. To their wedding bands. To him sitting next to her at the head of the table.
Namor said evenly, "I can be good to you."
His eyes always watching her intently started to irk her.
"You, good? Don't make me laugh."
A thunderstorm brewed in his gaze. At last, she had put a frown on his face for the day. He chomped into a carrot.
Most of the food she had was meant to be eaten by hand but to make a point, Shuri stuck a fork harshly into her plate. An end to any further conversation.
To any wedding guest, the bride and groom appeared to be too consumed with eating to speak to each other.
37. Wedding Night
Despite herself, Shuri enjoyed the festivities. As a little girl, she enjoyed weddings. At first, for the food and dancing, but as she grew older, she liked seeing unions of love. Two people of their own free will promising their lives to each other was beautiful.
What would it have been like to be marrying a man she loved? Instead of strengthening alliance ties? Or revenge?
The starry night sky had her feeling pensive. Her husband was nearby, and the skirt of her dress was dusty with sand.
Ayo gave her a nod. She was tasked to escort Namor and Shuri to the Wakandan shoreline. The wedding had been on land, but the marriage would be underwater.
Aneka flashed Shuri a reassuring smile, having come along for moral support.
"Princess, let me adjust your beautiful necklace." Aneka fiddled with the Wakandan choker atop the Mayan jewels. "Remember all we've taught you. I know it's your first time, but you'll learn quickly. You must get him in your arms and take it from there. Trap him between your legs if you must."
"Yes, sister, I'll miss you too. But I'll visit often," Shuri offered, keeping up pretenses. However, the hug she gave her wasn't fake.
"Enough." Namor grabbed her wrist. His patience for her had run out.
Shuri gaped at him. "Can I not at least say goodbye to my dear friend?"
"No."
"Remember, Shuri!" Aneka called to her, waving. Ayo and she became smaller in the distance.
The waves washed away Shuri's footprints.
Namora tapped the floor with the bottom of her spear in greeting. Seeing Talokan again was still mesmerizing, but the memories gave Shuri a tight feeling in the pit of her stomach.
She managed to swim more fluidly in her panther suit.
Namor pulled her out of the water to the grotto. The blue-green lighting was romantic and somber.
"Princess, I've prepared gifts for your arrival. In addition to the lab I had built for you, I've gathered these dresses and jewels—"
Shuri cut him off. "I've enough dresses from you. I'm not a doll. The jewelry weighs heavily on my neck."
His eyes narrowed. "I'll have a string of pearls placed upon your neck instead. It's lighter."
Shuri shrugged.
"Or, you could stop and realize I can adorn myself. It may not have occurred to you, but you've given me plenty."
He pointed. "Those shark teeth you wear in your ears. I disemboweled the shark myself to show my gratitude. You're welcome here, princess."
Gratitude? She scoffed.
Her impudence was too much for Namora to take. She only placed a hand on Shuri's shoulder, but the movement was a loaded gesture.
"Show some respect!"
Shuri looked at Namora before flicking her arm off, daring her to strike. Then, she spat at Namor's feet.
He was upon her at once, gripping her wrist tightly. She braced herself. If he hit her, she would throttle him. Then, dissolve their marriage on account of spousal abuse. But he did nothing of the sort.
Namor massaged her wrist. His thumb pressed her arm at different points.
"We shouldn't begin our union with fighting. I apologize. Perhaps, our love languages are different. With time, I'll learn what pleases you." He kissed her forehead. "Acts of service? Words of affirmation? You will find me to be a dutiful student."
She could almost smile at his earnestness.
Rolling her eyes, she said, "The jewelry is very beautiful. I just prefer the ones without heavy stones. If you continue to gift me so many jewels, I cannot cherish the ones I've already been given."
Namor nodded, satisfied with her explanation. Namora's gaze was still frosty, her eyes still pinned to the floor where Shuri's saliva lay near her king's toes.
"Come, I'll show you your lab." Namor released his hold on her arm and slipped his hand into hers before she noticed. If only to apologize a little, she didn't let go.
If he was surprised at her insistence on lovemaking after her earlier frostiness to him, he showed no sign of it.
All Shuri had asked him, "Aren't you going to touch me? Because I want you to."
There were so many layers of fabric under her dress, which made it so easy to hide things.
She straddled him on top of the bed in his royal chambers while he lay on his back. She dragged her hands down his chest lovingly. Her wedding dress still pooled around her waist.
Namor lifted himself up halfway to rain kisses upon her neck and shoulders. It admittedly felt good, but it didn't distract her from her goal.
"Oh Na—Ku'uk'ulkan," Shuri started, seeing him freeze. She gritted her teeth to get the words out. "What else do I do? I want more, but you'll have to show me, my king."
He took a sharp intake of breath. But nothing about him was nervous. He gripped her thighs and Shuri involuntarily flinched.
"Press down and move like—" He closed his eyes in concentration. He was still clothed at the bottom, and she wore her layers of fabric. But her touch burned through him. "This," he hissed out.
Shuri gave a small smile. He wouldn't get to feel the real thing. She stopped his hands before they could trail further up her thighs.
She coaxed her hands up to his face. He fully sat up now.
"Tell me you love me," Shuri commanded him.
"Princess…"
"Tell me, Ch'ah Toh." Seeing his surprise, she continued. "That's the name engraved on your mother's bracelet, right? Your name before you were K'uk'ulkan to your people." His true name felt like a mystery her intellect had solved.
The look he gave her was otherworldly. The top of her head felt hot, and she squirmed.
Namor squeezed her to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck.
He was being vulnerable. Whispering sweet, fevered things in her ear. How much he loved her. How beautiful she was. How she would want for nothing. How he prayed to the gods for her so that he wouldn't have to be alone anymore. How he would give her a new family to replace the one she lost.
His brow furrowed and he closed his eyes again.
For a moment, Shuri stilled.
"Thank you, for your honesty … And your arrogance." Her hand drifted up her own thigh to the knife hung on her garter belt. Remembering just as Aneka had taught her, in one swift motion she stuck the vibranium poison-tipped knife into Namor's shoulder.
With a slump, he fell forward atop her. Shuri wiggled out from underneath him. Proud of her work. He had thought to have guards stationed out of their room but never to protect himself against her.
Despite herself, she kissed his forehead and covered him with a blanket. To repay the bare minimum of decency he had shown her? To acknowledge he at least had some small bit of guilt for how he fractured her family? For what reason she didn't know.
Shuri tore the bottom of her wedding dress so that it ended a little below the knee. She tried to present herself as what she thought a thoroughly ravished woman looked like. Namor had already fondled and ruffled her clothes a bit, so it wasn't too hard to pull off. She purposefully tried to breathe raggedly.
Stepping into the hallway, Shuri saw the Talokan guards. If she was going to get back to Wakanda in one piece, she was going to have to play it cool.
Shuri called out to them.
"Princess Shuri, why aren't you with the king? Where is K'uk'ulkan?" One of his men asked. Her kimoyo beads translated the words in real time. She could see his suspicion in the crease of his brow.
"Shhh, your king sleeps. Wakandan women are good lovers, y'know. A shame he didn't last long." Shuri giggled. "It'll be a while until he wakes. A few days maybe."
One of the Talokan guards' eyes bugged in disbelief that their king could be less than perfect. The other laughed quietly before shaking his head.
Yes, his guards were none the wiser.
"Now, Namo—K'uk'ulkan, before our night together, gave me leave to return to Wakanda. Since he whisked me away so suddenly, I need to bring a change of clothes."
The laughing guard's face scrunched in confusion. "Princess, any of K'uk'ulkan's attendants are at your command. Send one of them on your behalf."
Shuri grabbed his chin gently.
Her voice was chilling. "Sweetheart, I'm your princes—your queen. Don't question me. I'll return from Wakanda with gifts for my husband, but it'll take me some time. Await my message for my return."
At that, the guard immediately nodded and prepared for Shuri's departure to the surface.
38. Fallout
Wash day was always a tedious ordeal, but her hair always felt better after the attention.
Shuri wiped off with a towel and dried her hair with an old t-shirt. She slipped her nightgown on, ready to add moisturizer to her freshly steamed, coiled hair.
The mirror was fogged up. She wiped away until she could see the bottom of her face. Wiped some more until she could see all of herself. And someone else behind her.
Murderous rage displayed in his gaze. It was the only thing stopping her from shrieking at his sudden appearance or laughing at the randomness of him cornering her into the shower of all places. Her hand held onto her shower curtain with a pattern of pineapples. He backed her into the bathroom wall.
"You play a dangerous game, princess. A knife? Don't be so naïve."
"How long have you been here? Did you come from the shower drain? And were you watching me dress?" Shuri questioned. Her hands were getting sweaty, and his intensity was starting to send a wave of fear through her.
"A husband knows all about his wife."
"Didn't know about that knife though." Shuri joked.
"Yes, I don't operate in trickery or deceit. I'm clear in all I do. Now, I wonder how Wakanda will fare because of its princess' foolishness."
Shuri grabbed for his hand.
"If you're angry with me, then deal with me. Our countries have no place in our marriage."
"Oh, so now, you're a married woman and not an assassin?"
"You're the last one to judge me! All the blood on your hands."
"Blood I've gathered from protecting. I've shown you nothing but kindness."
"Kindness when you flooded Wakanda? When you—" Shuri slashed at him.
He caught her hand. "Your spy killed my child. A life for a life. We're even."
"You don't realize how many Wakandans drowned in your mayhem, you winged fool. How many lives was that? A 100 for one?
"Abha was worth the world. Truly, Wakanda hasn't paid the price for that yet. But I'm not unreasonable. I know that war brings spoils. Neither of us will ask forgiveness of the other."
Shuri was tempted to spit at him again. Maybe this time in his face. "I'll ask for whatever I damn please."
"Language." Namor chided her. She forcefully pushed against his chest, but he only acquiesced by moving his arms. He no longer caged her, but he didn't move farther away either.
He folded his arms. Her hair was going to dry soon.
"You're not the first who attempted to take my life. Explain yourself. Should my wife be thrown in jail during our honeymoon?" His voice sounded slightly gentler. "I'd imagine our wedding night to go differently. I would've taken my time. Preparing you for me. I didn't lie that night about my desire for you."
"You said you'd do anything to please me in bed."
"Princess," he growled, the gentleness washing away.
"Well, you bleeding out pleases me very much."
"Your immaturity will be the end of Wakanda."
Shuri pushed away from him, walking out of the shower. The bathroom felt too small and constricting with both their personalities taking up room.
"Fine! Then, divorce me. Annul the marriage! If you're the one to end our arrangement, that's fine. But don't let this reflect poorly on Wakanda. We have done nothing to compromise our alliance."
"No, my wife. We'll work this out with marriage counseling. One of my people or a Wakandan elder. I've decided."
'I have decided' as if he made the final decision!
He held her hands with an iron grip.
Shuri sputtered. "Uh, counseling will do nothing. I don't love you! I never will."
But Namor was convinced. "I told you, princess. You play a losing game."
What game was that? And why did she feel that he was (infuriatingly) right?