When Namor checked in with the head of his guards—partly to ensure she'd reassigned Shuri's guard duty and partly to ensure that preparations for their agreement with Wakanda was coming along smoothly—his ears picked up the distinct giggle of Talokanil guards with too little to do. Sound traveled faster under water, and his ears were shaped by the gods themselves for the ever-watchful Feathered Serpent. So while he spoke languidly with Tozi, his eye twitched at the repeated mention of his name in a circle of three guards in training, all of them no older than thirteen.

"Atzi said her dress was dripping in jade!" one girl exclaimed.

"Did you hear Juana is visiting the engineers?" This one, a boy, sounded miffed that he hadn't received the same favor.

Another voice, this one so low that it was clearly meant to be a scandalous whisper only for the ears of her companions, added her own bit of gossip. "He let her sleep on the floor. "

Their collective gasp could be heard throughout the training hall. Namor's ear spasmed. He was too busy to receive a minute-by-minute play of the Princess' daily activities. It felt somewhat intrusive, even for him. Fen had assured him the night before that the girl was fine but now he was getting blamed—by Namora for doing too much and the rest of his guard, apparently, for doing too little.

"I don't like her. We don't know why she's here," the boy said, a frown in his voice. "Patli said she's horrible."

Namor almost left the conversation with Tozi entirely at this point. The boy could do with a little 1 on 1...mentorship.

The first girl exhaled. "I'm so sad I missed her trip to the Sun. She sounds nicer than other surface-dwellers. My sister says she's pretty."

Namor jutted his chin out in a haughty stance. Tozi stopped, leveling an alarmed look at him. "K'uk'ulkan, are you sure? Chac's rain cover you always, but moving Attuma from the vanguard would be a better option."

He blinked. He hadn't realized what Tozi was asking him and coughed. "May I bleed for you, Tozi. Leave Attuma in the vanguard."

They continued. Namor had to force himself from plugging into the silly chatter—the water-King was no gossip—but continued to carry a faint awareness for anything serious that could require his attention. His subjects were serving Shuri, so by extension she was a subject too and required attention, after-all. A couple moments before he bid Tozi to take his leave, some of the more supercilious talk fell away to serious contentions.

"One of them shot ours dead. We cannot trust her."

"Pallee said she heard her screaming that she wanted to help with her technology," the low-voice girl responded. "She tried to save her."

His stomach tightened.

A whirlpool to the south and two whirlpools to the east later, Shuri found the Americans to be fine. Sweaty and exhausted, but otherwise in decent shape. None of them were extraordinarily shocked to see here, either—Shuri assumed that this was because they believed Wakanda claimed this area and had expected Wakandan presence in some capacity. But they were more shocked to realize she was the Black Panther who fought off whatever attacked their submarine. "You saved my life," at least three of them said.

After hasty introductions were exchanged, Shuri made a quick headcount. There were fourteen of them, a mix of divers and non-divers, perhaps accompanying scientists or researchers. None of them looked harmed—I'm not looking for excuses to yell at him, Shuri thought, but I'm pleasantly surprised.

One of them, a middle-aged brunette with purple highlights who was sprawled across the floor, spoke. "I feel like I can finally breathe."

Shuri paused in her mental note-taking. There were nine minutes left according to her Kimoyo bead timer, but she wasn't sure if the guard who had escorted her here (and was currently planted right outside the closed rock-door) would be as scrupulous.

"What do you mean?"

The woman rolled over onto her side. "These people, if we can call them that, kept us in a cave deeper down. The air was so heavy and disgusting. It's a bit better here."

Annoyance flared up in Shuri — at the woman for her insult at Talokanil, and at Namor for his treatment of the Americans. Not for the first time she wondered how T'Challa had managed to balance owning up to Wakanda's mistakes with defending it with his life. She'd peppered him with many political conversations over the years, but most were sadly littered with jokes and jibes that she regretted not taking his guidance more seriously.

You were 18, Shuri. She had to be kind to herself.

"I'm sorry you went through that. I'll try to see what I can do, but I'm also stuck here for the time being. Actually, the reason I'm here is to ask why —"

The woman clicked her tongue. "What is this place?"

Shuri breathed in deeply. The chattering of the others came to a halt and fourteen pairs of eyes locked on her with rapt attention.

"I'm sorry, I cannot tell you yet. I promi—Wakanda recently agreed to protect this place. No one should try to mine what's not theirs. The first expedition was a tragedy, and I offer the American people my condolences, but we were not responsible."

"Then who was?" a young man piped up.

It wasn't justified, what Talokanil did to the first expedition. Namor blamed her and all of Wakanda for introducing the world and its greed to vibranium for the intrusion, but Talokan reacted the way an isolated community could be expected to react, only they'd used disproportionate means (though certainly proportionate to Namor's protective and rigid philosophy).

It also killed over thirty Americans. Not civilians, but they were not evil.

Colonialism. Killmonger whispered. Shuri slapped her ear as though swatting away his voice was as easy as swatting a fly. When she didn't respond, still trying to find an adequate answer to the young man's question that didn't compromise Wakandan, Talokanil, nor American lives, the brunette answered for her.

"These blue...people, then?"

Shuri opted to give no answer. Silence was an answer in one sense but time was running low. She was at five minutes and she still had questions about their new vibranium sensor, why they'd volunteered for this mission, what they'd seen during the attack, and if they understood or realized who Namor was.

"Why did the U.S. launch another expedition? You all could have died." If it weren't for me...

The brunette narrowed her eyes. "We knew what we were getting into."

"Risking civilian lives for the sake of scientific progress and resource mining is a vile move on the government's part. Was it to distract us from the attack on Wakanda?"

"Civilian?" The brunette sat up. She unclasped a button of her collared shirt, flipping it downwards to reveal an embroidered CIA patch. "Contessa Valentina Allegra de Fontaine, your highness. Director of the Central Intelligence Agency. You can call me Val in your head, just not out loud."

Shuri's jaw fell.

"You know my ex-husband too."

Said ex-husband was currently tailing one very harried Midnight Angel.

"So you knew the Americans thought we had captured their white vibranium robot? We would never use vibranium for such a blasphemous cause."

"Which is why I sent word to the best men to find him as soon as I found out. I was already in prison by then, but Captain America has eyes and ears everywhere."

Okoye bristled. Nakia, falcon-man, and Bucky had departed that morning in a Dragon Flyer with weapons, backup communication devices, and frequent updates. "Men who are now responsible for the life of one of my sisters."

Ross rubbed his chin. "Okoye, Nakia volunteered to go. Wakandan women do as they please."

"They do, until they're forced into a tentative alliance with a beast."

"It was our best option." He looked out the grand windows of the palace. M'Baku had housed him in the basement, their equivalent of a dungeon, so he'd spent his free hours roaming suspiciously close to the throne room and guest quarters. "For Shuri, and Wakanda's safety."

"We can't trust him."

"He will do as we asked. The world will not view Wakanda to be behind the attacks, anymore. We just need to wait."

Okoye should've thanked him for many things. A traitor to his nation, a man who took a bullet for Nakia, and now brokering peace between nations at each other's necks. Instead, she threatened to excavate his vital organs if Shuri failed to return by the end of the month.

He smiled, like he knew what she was really trying to say.

Okoye stopped by her the rooms again, allowing herself to think more deeply about Nakia, replacing her worry with the love and shock that had occupied for the better part of that morning. Nakia never wept, not when T'Challa disappeared with the Snap, not when he returned, and not when she returned. Only she could say "he was my everything" with a voice that belied the depth of her love for him without tears. She had done the same today, bringing forth the boy she called "our son", the evidence of the love she shared with T'Challa—Wakanda's King and her everything.

Nakia had introduced him as Toussaint. He was now napping in Okoye's room with one of the Milaje watching over him, still jet-lagged and overwhelmed by everything he had seen in Wakanda.

She vowed to never use his French name. That boy was T'Challa, son of T'Challa, the most noble King to have been blessed by Bast.

"If this isn't part of Wakanda or any of their operations, then what are you doing here?" Val was sitting up now, her shoulders pulled back and hands clasped in her lap.

The hairs on Shuri's neck stood on end. She rested her right hand over her Kimoyo beads as Val took her in from head to toe. She was wearing her tracksuit — wearing a dress in an exosuit would destroy the fabric and give away too much to the hostages — and for the first time felt her fashion choices unfairly scrutinized.

"I'm their protector."

"Okay. Then why are you stuck here?"

Shuri had come to get her questions answered and commiserate but somehow the tables had turned. She was prey to a dangerously calm predator. Most of the others followed suit like well-trained dogs, previous delight at seeing her wiped from their faces. She cleared her throat, summoning her mother's poise.

"Allow me to clarify. I came here and I don't want to leave until this situation is resolved." There, a truth somewhere in this complicated mess she'd found herself in. She forced a small smile. "Call it a moral obligation. Why did you come? Where did you get another vibranium sensor from?"

"I interrogated the Riri girl personally, you know." Val made a popping sound with her mouth, her nasally voice sounding more grating by the second. "She didn't say much we didn't already know but curiously never mentioned the Princess of Wakanda's independent ventures. What do these people do, hmm, to keep you so protective? I'm genuinely curious about what they've offered you. You don't need more vibranium now, do you?"

"You can't be trusted with it, obviously." She snapped, previous attempt at poise gone. Bast, how had her mother put up with this? Verbally assaulting the CIA director might end her political career but the smug look on the woman's face was aggravating.

Two minutes. She rolled a Kimoyo bead between her fingers. If she had to pounce, even in this cramped space, she would. This woman was a fox. T'Challa was never so liberal with the suit, Killmonger remarked, impressed.

"You're a bartering chip, Princess. Why else would you be treated better?" She patted her chest and bobbed her head in an impression of an understanding nod. "If you need help, come talk to me. I don't have my business card but I'm not going anywhere far these days."

One of the many quirks Shuri developed growing up as a younger sister was strong verbal sparring skills. She hated not having the last word. She absolutely despised losing. And now the head of the CIA and her stupid purple-streaked hair confused her, clearly trying to sow doubt and make her believe that allying with them was better when their greed sent Namor to Wakanda in the first place.

She sighed. She could go back and try to trace the chain of events as much as she wanted, but in reality, what hurt was being called a bartering chip.

The guards were waiting for her when she broke through the water. They lifted her out of the exosuit with damp hands. Thank Bast Patli wasn't around because she wasn't sure she could handle another gripe about her toes right now, not when T'Challa was the one who roamed around with his ugly toes out.

Used to. Used to roam around.

When she advanced towards her room one of the guards held out a spindly arm. The feather crown bobbed on her head as she craned her neck to the left. "No, Princess. You will stay there tonight. Your items have been moved." Shuri's gaze followed her arm to where she was pointing at.

It was Namor's cabin. Her mouth dried. She'd told him she was fine with her room and floor. Actually, the hammock was sounding better too.

Shuri laughed nervously. "I know my way around here now," she joked, taking a step forward towards her room. The second guard lowered her spear and nudged her with its helve.

"Heart rate, abnormally high." Griot announced.

She choked. "Namor's not — in there — is he?"

"He's at the Sun." That was new. The guards never told her where or what he was doing when she asked, either "he'll call for you" or "be quiet, girl" (Patli).

The Sun, what they called their palace. How Namor had introduced his beautiful city.

She was having another out-of-body moment again. Her feet moved of their own accord, no matter how much she cursed at them. She could fight the guards right now. She could made a mad dash for the exosuit and paddle away, up, up, and out —

A familiar face met her at the entrance to Namor's office, but it was not him. Fen wrung her hands together. "Don't be alarmed!" She blurted. A squirt of bubbles flew up her nose and she coughed. Shuri frowned — a vibration device could help prevent bubbles from forming at all.

"K'uk'ulkan is not here." The healer gestured generally to the catacombs. The lights seemed brighter, the stalagmites and rocks glistening under them. "He will do his, um private business, in his water chambers."

As feeling returned to Shuri's limbs (Griot confirmed a normal heartrate soon after), Fen turned to berate the guards in hushed voices, something about different customs and not getting any funny ideas. Shuri's brain, for its part, was definitely coming close to a great many funny ideas. Bartering chip was one of them. Beauty was another. Her stomach flipped as Fen led her past the office to an archway that led to a room not unlike hers in size but absolutely charming.

The furthest wall billowed outwards around a small lake. The floor turned into steps that sunk into it. Vines with water-lilies and other aquatic plants twisted out of the water and across the walls on each side. Ancient Mesoamerican artifacts hung from stalagmites all around her.

On her right was a hammock tied to protruding rock formations, and in the center of the room was what impressively imitated a mattress except it was one made of woven cotton and dried kelp. Tips of leaves and other stuffing materials poked out of the gaps in the weave. One of the dry blankets from her room was now draped carefully over the center. On the corner of the bed was the teal dress, neatly folded.

Fen poked a webbed finger at her shoulder. "If you take these off, I can clean them."

Shuri's eyes softened, still in awe. The view from her room in Wakanda was prettier, but this was...beautiful. It was the same emotion that overcame her when she saw Talokan and the vibranium sun for the first time. "You're not my maid, Fen."

"You are a Princess."

She gave her a rueful grin. "Not a very good one. I will clean them myself." A thought struck her. Fen had answered some of her questions earlier about microbiota. Talokanil were susceptible to different illnesses, but illnesses caused by microorganisms just the same. The solution was vibranium filtering systems scattered throughout these parts.

In other words, a she was overdue for a bath. "That lake, does it lead anywhere?"

"Yes, it's K'uk'ulkan's private route to the city."

Shuri had a feeling the woman would pass out if she asked permission to bathe, then cringed wondering why seeking permission was necessary when Namor thought it was fine to drag her around as appropriate.

Fen lingered at the open archway. "There's a couple ladies who will be on the next shift that I think you will enjoy meeting. Would you like to meet with them?"

Smiling but regretful, Shuri shook her head. "I would love too but it's been a long day. I'll see you all tomorrow?"

Fen nodded, confirming there was nothing else she needed. After Shuri was assured that Namor would "do his private business" of sleeping miles below, Fen and the guards left her alone for the night. She could distantly hear their soft pitter-patter outside the cabin but for the first time in two days she was as alone as she could be, here.

The mental and physical fatigue she had pushed to the wayside over the last few hours hit her at once.

There was still so much to do. Her original plan was to be back in Wakanda by now. She still didn't know what the terms of Namor's agreement with Okoye entailed. There was no doubt in her heart that Okoye pushed him to concede as much as possible. What worried her were the conditions of the outside world that required such a change in their plans. Was it because they hadn't trusted her to deal with Namor? How had Bucky and Sam sought her out for a goodwill project and then the very next day she was barreling back to the Feathered Serpent God as a barely tolerable ally?

Maybe mother was wrong. Sympathy did not always work in a world that turned it into a weapon of self-destruction.

Bartering chip.

She didn't know why the words wounded her the way they did. Val's pompous sweet-talk did little to alleviate the shame.

Confident the guards were now further out in the catacombs, Shuri undressed and unraveled the bandages around her arm. Fen had said to wait until tomorrow but it felt good enough. The vibranium embedded in the bandages speeded her recovery. The skin puckered where Namor's spear pierced her right below her elbow and minor bruises littered the rest of her forearm. She left her hand jewelry and inner garments on. Donned in her trusty cropped white tank top and boy shorts, she strode to the edge of water.

She wanted to run and dive into it but the splash would cause the guards to come running. Instead, she dropped a kimoyo bead into the pond to check the temperature and heat the water to a suitable level. Once it buzzed, she dipped in an eager toe and suppressed a moan. Exhaustion melted from her body as she slid from the humid, moist room into the lukewarm water, more comfortable than she had been in days. She needed to tell Nakia to consider digging a hot tub in her yard.

Perhaps one day she could invent an exosuit or modify the Black Panther suit so she could enter whirlpools and feel the water rushing by on her skin. Would it be as sublime as jumping from a ship and tunneling into the air beneath her? Would it feel any different?

She hated water for so long, for its depths took her mother. But her father died from high pressure oxygen setting off an explosion, and her brother from a deadly disease. Bast knew she could never meet the ancestors like her brother did, but somehow, the elemental spirits seemed to take on new meanings away from the tidy, measurable way she used to view them.

The water exploded to her right.

Shuri twisted her body, her wet fingers swiping at her kimoyo beads. She never finished the launch tap sequence because a deplorable figure rose up from the middle of the splash like water erupting from a spring fountain.

Namor and his staff were dripping wet. She didn't like folklore, but she wondered now about the end of the mermaid story her mother never finished.