The way I could've written this chapter so long ago since I had the outline.

And in perfect timing, Happy Birthday to this story :)

Intersession: Hypothetically

Wakanda's Palace - 13:03

Iqadi takes another deep breath as she stands on a small stool in front of three standing mirrors positioned to catch her at different angles. She stares right into the eyes of her centre reflection, exhaling slowly through her mouth but so subtle that only her lips purse. Usually, she despises mirrors. The only reflection she relies on and prefers is the one she catches when she's looking into her husband's eyes or in the eyes of her enemies; it all depends on context.

Now? She's fitting a new dress for an upcoming charity auction while her mother and Imanu's mother pull at hems and make suggestions to the tailors who are writing everything down on their tablets and sketching on their holograms. Eventually, Kili rises from the nearby couches and grabs a fistful of fabric at the skirt. She tells her mother something about the pattern and at least she's no longer complaining about her milk allergy being a bothersome to her love for Starbucks and her hate for the milk alternatives.

Iqadi takes another breath but as she exhales, a hand rests on her lower back and her body calms. She glances down and sees Imanu standing next to her. For a moment, she forgot he was here since he stood in the background to the others handling her dress.

"I now understand how prey feels when the hunter has its eyes on them," Iqadi whispers.

"I know you want to explode because dress fitting is everything you hate," Imanu states, "standing still while being poked and prodded. I know you love to keep busy."

"It's a tad confining and you know I hate that. Trying on my wedding dress was not this stressful and our mothers were far more neurotic at that one. Kili had a lot of opinions on shades of gold. I can barely breathe in this."

"You look beautiful."

Iqadi groans, leaning forward and resting her head on top of his since she's taller while standing on the tailoring stool. Imanu kisses the side of her head and then her lips when she turns around to face him. He loosens the hems around her ribs and she mouths a thanks. She smiles before standing straight again and Imanu backs up when their mothers and Kili return to continue their dress commentary.

-o-

Imanu walked out of his bedroom's ensuite on time for Iqadi to burst through the door and close it behind her. She still wears the same dress from the fitting and flows with every rushed movement. She takes her hair out of its ties and her natural afro bounces out, billowing at every curve of her face, the napes of her neck, and her shoulders.

"I thought I didn't like the asymmetrical shape of the dress, but your hair falling symmetrically gives the whole look an unorthodox balance," Imanu comments. "You're astonishing."

Iqadi pauses in her rush, staring at him for a moment. Her eyes crinkle and she smiles at him. He notices her cheeks tinge with blush as she brushes her hair back from her shoulders.

"As are you," Iqadi responds. She walks over to her vanity and catches her reflection. "You and I, we shall take a trip to America to visit our friends, but first I need to get out of this dress."

Imanu clears his throat and Iqadi turns to face her. She raises a brow before realizing the undertones of her words.

"That was…" she mutters.

Imanu walks up to her and she catches his reflection joining hers.

"Your efforts at seducing me improve daily," Imanu comments. He runs his hands alongside the form-fitting dress, looking alongside the back as he finds a button set or a zipper. "I admire your efficiency daily. This dress, however, not so much"

Iqadi blushes brighter. "There should be a clasp somewhere back there. I couldn't breathe with all the needles and comments from our moms and Kili. When they dismissed me, I was supposed to take off the dress there but I left."

"At least it's over."

"For now."

"Relax for a moment." He unclamps the dress near the neckline. "It's only us now. Get on the bed."

"Now who's being forward?"

Iqadi saunters over to her bed. As she slides off her shoes, Imanu slides a hand down her back and pats her down below. She grins and nudges him before lying on their bed with her legs hanging over the edge. Imanu takes one of her legs and lifts it. As he starts giving her a foot massage, the skirt of her dress falls to her waist.

"What?" Imanu asks with a cheeky grin when he sees Iqadi frowning at him.

With every kiss that he places up and up her leg, starting at her calf before going behind her knee and then her inner thigh, Iqadi's grimace softens into a smile as she rests a hand on his head. Imanu smiles back as he lies beside her on their bed on his side to face her.

"Save that for a moment," Iqadi says. "I've been thinking."

"Your best foreplay, my dear," he comments.

"And it always works on you." She turns onto her side to face him. "Hypothetically, if we weren't married or even introduced as a possible marriage, would we ever know each other?"

"I'd always know who you were. You're my Princess."

"Doesn't count."

"The difference is that I was born knowing you existed."

Iqadi shakes her head. "Not true."

"Yes, true. You're five months older than me."

"You were a baby. You had no idea where you were, let alone me."

Imanu scoffs. "Oh, please. Anyone born in the same calendar year was considered blessed."

Iqadi sits up, propping herself on her elbows. "Are you serious?"

"Yes. Has nobody told you that?"

"Clearly not!"

Imanu laughs, lying on his back and looking at their ceiling. "I love seeing you stumped. I feel like I'm the only one who ever sees you in that state of vulnerability. I'm honoured to be allowed in your presence like that."

Iqadi scoots closer to him, resting her head on his arm and hugging his chest. "I wouldn't allow anyone else."

"When your parents first married, there was the royal expectation on them to produce an heir immediately, as we've experienced ourselves. However, they had trouble with that so when you were finally born, the country rejoiced and stated that any child born the same calendar year would be as blessed as you."

"Quite the story."

"I do believe I'm blessed. Look at me now."

Imanu wraps an arm and squeezes her against him for a moment. He kisses the top of her head and runs a hand through her curls.

"What if …" Iqadi starts. "What if I - I went down to the mines and met you there?"

"You would not look my way. You're not going that deep."

"Hypothetically, I could. I snuck there once after we wed."

"Because you were investigating something for me without telling anyone."

"Yes, fair. You're the only person I would go to the mines for."

Imanu repositions himself so that Iqadi looks up at him from her resting on his chest. Her big brown eyes stare into his. Despite being married for four wonderful years and always wondering what he did to be in this position — this very spot — next to her, he has never felt more blessed in his life than when she said those words.

"That means more to me than you could imagine," Imanu tells her, "truthfully. Look, Iqadi, I would've always known you existed. You wouldn't know about me."

"Thankfully these are only hypothetical. I admit that my life has been exponentially better with you in it."

Imanu leans down and kisses her. He cups her face with one hand before moving his arm around to hoist her on top of him. Iqadi runs her fingers along his jaw as she kisses him some more.

"Oh good," Iqadi exhales, "a better angle for you to get this dress off me."

"Please, dear, I could get any dress off you from any angle."

"Stop talking and get with the clasps."

"Why?" He teases, tugging on the hems. "You look ravishing in it."

"Imanu," she says with a laugh as he starts unclasping the rest of the dress.