The Eyes are the Windows to the Soul (4.)
They didn't pay M'Baku enough for all he did. Despite wearing the finest furs, sitting on the council was unpaid work. As prosperous as Wakanda was (and he always hoped would be), they could never afford him and by extension Jabari land.
He sacrificed so many things for the good of Wakanda: his time, his resources, and recently, his sanity.
His mouth felt dry at what he needed to do. He wasn't afraid to speak though the potential reactions worried him.
But M'Baku liked to get to the point. He wasn't long-winded like his wife Maryam or overly analytical like his other wife Patience. Both were lovely, but one talked too much and the other overthought.
No, he called it as he saw it. Took the meat, and left the bones.
He sat on the throne as interim king and current leader of the council. The Dora Milaje was stationed to the left and right of the room and at each exit. Each Wakandan tribe had its leader and up to two representatives present at the meeting. Any royal family member, extending to M'Baku's, was also invited as a principle, but his wives didn't care for politics. Besides, Maryam his first wife had once said she saw enough of him at home.
Namor sat in his special chair adjacent to the first row of Wakandan leaders. The one he had imported from Talokan to the Wakandan conference room. He had vehemently balked at the kiddie pool Elder Marwa offered to install, a bit of teasing on his part, as condescension. And in front of Shuri too. No one else had witnessed the sting of embarrassment in his eyes back then except M'Baku.
Marwa hadn't returned to council in weeks, and no one had heard from him in a while. He hated to think of what had been done in retaliation for an ill-timed joke.
The leader of Talokan was a very unfunny man indeed. His doctor must have forgotten to put his funny bone back in after the surgery.
M'Baku cleared his throat. "Council, I regret to inform you of one last-minute change. I bring to your attention a capable suitor for Princess Shuri. He should be added at once."
Some of the voting elders looked around as if expecting the suitor to materialize from a puff of smoke.
Namor was practically preening. His jewelry shined, his chest was oiled, and his headdress adorned his body. Had he been expecting to see her there?
If he had listened, then he would have known Shuri preferred to avoid the preliminary marriage discussions. She only focused on the actual interviews.
M'Baku swallowed thickly, wondering how she would react to Namor's candidacy. Was he doing right by her? He was supposed to care for her in her brother's stead. The least he could do was vet a man who would love her especially since he wasn't allowing himself to be an option.
"That fish man," he started, gesturing toward Namor. He rubbed the phantom pain of his upper chest with his free hand. Before he was prone to curse, he finished. "He's fond of her, Princess Shuri."
The Mining Tribe representative's face was contorted in disgust. Her red clay hair swung as she shook her head. "Lord M'Baku, you ask a lot of us. You ask us to follow a leader who doesn't descend from the golden tribe, even Killmonger had that at least. You ask us to align with one who sought to destroy us." She pointed at Namor with disrespect.
To his credit, Namor stayed silent, but his face showed no remorse.
"And now you ask us to accept him for our princess? To let him merge his bloodlines with hers? To not only become of our people but she of his? To let a murderer have a claim to the throne?"
"I wouldn't object to being the queen's consort. I've my own kingdom, anyway," Namor replied unhelpfully.
M'Baku made a face at him. If Namor could read lips, his mouth firmly said Shut up before you ruin your chance!
Maybe he did understand because Namor made his expression more neutral. Not antagonizing or arrogant.
M'Baku held up a hand.
"Elder, I'm not asking Wakanda or the council. I'm demanding it. He'll be added and nothing more will be discussed."
"M'Baku, shouldn't everyone have a say?" asked a concerned member of the Border tribe.
"You will. What day should we set their marriage interview?" M'Baku asked with hard eyes, avoiding Namor's pleased ones.
Once the meeting dispersed with the attendees looking either dejected or enraged, M'Baku caught his breath in the hallway.
Never again could a meeting go like this. He would throw away all his goodwill with the council. Already he had entered with a deficit for not being Princess Shuri, a direct member of the royal family.
He felt sick to his stomach like when he accidentally ate red meat after so many years as a vegetarian. He wasn't a dictator, so he never wanted to enforce his rule. If Namor wasn't able to marry Shuri, then he might have to plan a way to incapacitate him quietly. Maybe poison? Pollute his waters with oil?
Gentle footsteps made noise against the palace's marble floors.
A spear separated Namor from M'Baku.
The new Dora Milaje recruit was guarding him. She was fairly young and bright-eyed. Similar looking to Shuri if he squinted.
Sighing, he waved her off. "Nibby, you're released from guard duty. See if Ayo requires help."
Nibby bowed at the knee. "My king, I cannot. I'm stationed at your side with strict orders to keep him at bay." She lifted her head, throwing clear contempt at Namor. She kept her spear right at his throat.
Although having added protection with such a loose cannon was a comforting thought, he couldn't allow her to know their conniving. He wished he had Shuri's pocket dimension thingy. He would pop Nibby in during the conversation, then pop her out afterward. None the wiser.
Namor greeted her politely, pushing the spear's head away with his finger. "Warrior Nibby, I mean your king no harm. But I must discuss something that bears in mind my country's future."
The Dora Milaje frowned at him. "You're bleeding, Fish Man. Look at you dirtying yourself."
Sure enough, a bead of blood bubbled at Namor's finger.
Namor gave it a swift lick, and the finger sealed as new.
"Quick healing ability," he told her, smiling in a disarming gesture.
She spat on the ground. "You wear the pretty face of a devil. Lord M'Baku I bid you not to send me away."
"I command you to leave us as your king."
At once Nibby nodded and walked away. Her powerful marching became fainter.
M'Baku's stomach flipped again.
He jabbed a finger in Namor's smug direction.
"You … you're corrupting my leadership."
Namor's gentle disposition faded away. His eyes judged him, and he smirked. "Don't blame me for your failures, Lord M'Baku. If you ruled so well, your people would take you at your word as mine do. The first time. I don't have to threaten them. They simply believe I desire the best from them. There's much for you to learn as a new ruler."
Two could play this game. But he had to play it carefully.
"Oh yes, I know so little, but I'm the one who can help you with the woman you seek. For all your pompousness you cannot win her heart on your own accord."
Namor's eyes sharpened, but he held his tongue.
"I … I was just offering advice from one leader to another. I don't think of you as incompetent at all. I apologize if I offended you," Namor told him quickly. He too must have told his entourage he wanted to come alone.
Oh ho ho, Namor couldn't afford to upset him too much. M'Baku grinned.
"Nay-mor, let me offer you a consideration. Wakanda has the most beautiful women on earth. Every shape, size, and shade of brown you could imagine. Nibby, that female warrior, looks like she could be Princess Shuri's sister, and she's an expert fighter. You seem like the type of man who likes to be roughed up, freaky frog."
Namor folded his arms, his cape moved back showing the golden armbands around his biceps.
Showoff, M'Baku thought.
"Why would I go for the counterfeit, when I can have the real woman?"
"No, enemies to lovers for you," M'Baku joked. His wife Chioma was an avid reader and loved those types of stories. He could only imagine her delight if she knew there was a similar romance brewing so close by.
Namor moved down the corridor with M'Baku and stopped at a window. He looked over the royal gardens. Dora Milaje surrounded the area and some cleaning crew beautified the garden. But near the fruit trees in the distance, Shuri collected samples.
M'Baku blinked. He hadn't imagined what a genuinely serene smile on Namor's face would look like. No hiding murderous rage, arrogance, or a deceit. Simply pleased to see a woman he "loved." Could that man love? He could lead and protect for sure, but love?
He sobered, looking at Namor seriously. "You shouldn't hurt her again. It broke her the first time, but she managed to piece herself together again."
Namor met his gaze for a moment. Deep emotion in his eyes. "That was our countries at conflict, not each other. It was never my intention to make her feel … I'll try not to, but if I still do, I'll help her rebuild."
"No, Nay-mor, try is not enough."
The man turned determined.
"You're right, I won't hurt her again. I swear it to Chaac."
"Swear to Bast and Hanuman."
He looked confused, so M'Baku explained.
"What does that mean to us Wakandans? No, swear it to our gods, so we know it's true, and they will deal with you if you break it."
He thought he would have refused to show deference to another god as one supposedly himself, but he did so with no rebuttal.
"I swear it to Shuri's god, Bast, and yours Hanuman. I won't hurt her again."
M'Baku wouldn't mention to Namor that Shuri was mostly agnostic, but he was pleasantly surprised at Namor's willingness.
The council was one thing, but getting Shuri to accept was another hurdle.
If Namor was willing to learn, listen, and concede, then he and Shuri could work. Right?
Gods couldn't be nervous, so the part of Namor that was undeniably man was pacing around the room. The Wakandan council kindly gifted him lodging, as with all foreign dignitaries, when he was there for alliance meetings. His room was empty save for a few robes and shorts, bottled water from the hotel front desk, a seashell to communicate to his people, and his kimoyo beads.
As a peace offering, Shuri had given them to him.
He had never been able to bring himself to call her. There was one voicemail she had left on it, telling him how to operate the beads. He was embarrassed at how many times he had listened to it. Sometimes, even to sleep despite her calling him Namor. He would have preferred to hear Ku'ul'ulkan from her sweet voice.
They were no longer at odds.
But was he starting their new relationship with deceit?
M'Baku had convinced him to apply to the marriage considerations under his birth name, Ch'ah Toh. The updated suitors' list had that name and no picture attached to it.
'Is that not who you are? She just doesn't know it yet. You haven't lied. Nay-mor is for your enemies, but you desire to make guppies with her, yes?'
The Wakanda man was either a fool or fairly clever.
Namor couldn't figure that man out. It would be easy enough if he were any other mortal man, but this one was stuck to Shuri like glue.
She allowed him to be a confidante. Shared her smiles and annoyance with him. Even her sadness.
This Lord M'Baku could reach her in ways he couldn't.
Jealousy should have been beneath him.
But M'Baku was the best man for the job, which was why he sought him out as an advisor.
Some of his suggestions were great like gifting her purple items. Her favorite color was purple. Others were more contradictory. The same man who told him to treat her as an orphan suggested he ask her for memories of her late brother T'Challa or father T'Chaka.
He imagined that was a tender spot. But it might show Shuri he was more thoughtful than she perceived. That she had someone she could grieve with. Isn't that what first connected them? Their shared loss and responsibility.
She had once confided in him.
Maybe that was what M'Baku meant to encourage.
Namor just had to trust him.
Patience shifted in the king-sized bed with him. All of his tossing and turning was keeping his dear second wife awake.
"M'Baku, go rest. Whatever you're worrying about will be there in the morning," she told him, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
"That doesn't cheer me up, love."
"It's not supposed to. It should encourage you to sleep." Her skin was very light brown with high cheekbones and straightened hair wrapped by bobby pins. Already she wore her sleep mask and night clothes.
M'Baku hugged her closer to him, adjusting his pillow one last time.
"But I cannot, love." He busied his hand by playing with the hem of her silk gown. Maybe carnality could take his mind off of things. He drifted his hand up her thigh.
Patience pushed his hand away.
Well, it won't be anything tonight, he thought.
"I've never seen sleep evade you like this. You usually sleep like a bear." She told him half-sleepy and half-exasperated. Another yawn. She would be asleep soon.
"Because I play a dangerous game," M'Baku declared in their dimly lit bedroom.
He gave Namor a mixture of genuine suggestions and ones determined to fail. If he could make the bad ones inconspicuous enough, Namor would think he did his job, but he couldn't win Shuri over by his own merit.
This way it lightened his conscience. If Shuri still chose him after all this, it would be from her true desire. Not because M'Baku inadvertently forced her into it.
His wife announced. "Well, let us play a new game: lights out!"
The voice-activated lights submerged them into complete darkness. A white noise machine started up in the background. M'Baku rubbed his exhausted eyes though he still couldn't sleep.
Insomnia kept him company once Patience snored throughout the night.