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i.
The first alliance meeting between Talokan and Wakanda was, for lack of better words, strained.
Their introduction and eventual battle would of course cause such tensions. It will take many moons to even consider forgiving each other for the deaths. Yet that is only in the times of mortals. A god as timeless as the Feathered Serpent needs to think of the future for both kingdoms.
After all, he wanted a truce and now he has to bear whatever fruits it provides.
K’uk’ulkan must admit, he is only used to counselors who have known him since their births. These surface dwellers are wary of him, rightfully so since the loss of their queen. Perhaps this tension will never fade, ever present like the constellations. They don’t see him as human or god but they know power when they see it. An equalness was never truly there between himself and the others in the room.
Yet there is only one person on the surface he will acknowledge as his equal, or possibly a tad more important than he initially thought.
The Black Panther.
Princess of the Golden Tribe of Wakanda.
Shuri, daughter of Ramonda.
She may have given the throne for Lord Regent M’Baku but everyone knows her power in the room.
K’uk’ulkan paid her the most attention throughout the meeting, how could he not?
She is the one he yielded to. She is the one he extended the offer of burning the world with. She is the one, presently, wearing his mother’s bracelet.
If his eyes fell onto her wrist more than once during this gathering, no one dared to acknowledge it.
The meeting finally reaches its conclusion for the day. Matters of trade on resources and knowledge are still being arranged but for now that will be enough. His attendants are eager to return to their waters but K’uk’ulkan notably walks towards the windows of the council room and not the door.
Through the glass, K’uk’ulkan sees the many buildings and life of the Wakandan citizens. The vibrant colors and constant motion of people truly reminds him of his Talokan.
In the glass’ reflection, he sees the panther approaching, tension still in her shoulders.
They stand side by side, not quite how he had first imagined but he’s standing in Wakanda nonetheless with her protector.
“This was,” K’uk’ulkan hums to waste time, pretending to be humble, “not a disaster.”
He’s graced with the noise of an undignified snort.
“It could’ve been.” Shuri side-eyes him, “Could still be one.”
He can’t suppress a grin, “Was that a threat, princess?”
She glares at him, too smart to be in a joking mood. Instead she replies, “I know this alliance was not to your initial proposal but it’s still good for both our kingdoms. You cannot deny that.”
K’uk’ulkan presses his lips thin, returning his gaze to the window. Carefully he watches the reflection of others in the room. The elders of the council have been escorted out but the king idles with his own men on the far side. Those Jabari warriors can’t take their eyes off of Attuma. The Talokan warrior’s attention is solely on his one-sided rivalry with the princess’ main fist. Thankfully Namora’s glaring is preventing him from actually making contact with Okoye or the other Dora Milaje guarding the room.
The tension of previous bloodshed aside, K’uk’ulkan finds this all amusing. They are all bonded through the art of combat. An intimacy few could survive and survive they all did to stand in this council room.
“I agree, Princess.” He nods to her, “There will be goodness in our futures but it will take time. I noticed your council avoids my name. How very political of them.
Shuri clamps her hands together, appearing just as political as she chooses her words carefully, “Well to them you are not our enemy nor our god. At least M’Baku calls you-“
“Fishman is not my name.” It comes out hotly, insulted and disrespected.
He ignores how the Dora Milaje shift their stances. No, all he sees is Shuri and how the corner of her lips tug up. She doesn’t look like the politician she has been presenting herself as throughout this entire meeting. Shuri looks like herself.
Immediately his pride yields to her small smile but he still accuses, “Is that what you all call me?”
“The truth wouldn’t please you, Namor.”
She’s right.
Hearing her say that name doesn’t please him either.
Instead it makes him crave her saying K’uk’ulkan.
ii.
“It has been a month, thirty or so days of your land’s calendar, and I have tolerated this in every meeting with your council, with him, and I have reached the end of my patience.”
The shoreline they’re on, the same place where the first met, is the perfect place for them to secretly meet up away from both their kingdoms.
He’s not sure why Shuri first decided to call him through the conch shell but he never complained. K’uk’ulkan has come to enjoy solace with her in this little spot. They would talk more about their cultures. His folklore and her studies, contrasting topics that he has memorized to understand Shuri. She is genuinely curious about his Talokan and K’uk’ulkan happily indulges her.
Shuri would talk and he would listen.
But today is the first time he called her to come here. Mere hours after their scheduled alliance meeting in the Wakandan castle.
Council summons never changed over the last few centuries. Always about what’s fair to give and receive, who needs more attention or discipline. Yet there is one new and annoying variable that has K’uk’ulkan’s eye twitching.
He finishes up his pacing, dear mother he didn’t even notice he was pacing. Sand was practically getting kicked with every stomp.
K’uk’ulkan stands before the Black Panther and declares, “I am the Feathered Serpent God. Not a fish man.”
Shuri stares at him, jaw loose and there’s spark in her eyes. He towers over her, pent up frustration crawling all over him.
Merely smiling, tilting her chin up to take in his gritted teeth, Shuri asks, “You called me here to complain about M’Baku calling you fishman?”
This humiliation does enough damage that K’uk’ulkan takes a step back.
In place of roaring out yes, he steadies his voice back to one of a king, “I am simply tired of that silly name.”
“It’s all in jest. You could also call him a silly name too, you know."
“I will not lessen my own integrity to retaliate with name calling.”
“Hmm, you can’t think of anything other than gorilla man.”
“That is not the point princess,” He tells her, as if he hasn’t been tempted to use that nickname. “Never before have I encountered a leader with such annoying charisma.”
“I call you fishman too,” Shuri points out, “and I don’t believe you secretly complain to M’Baku about me.”
Because it is different, K’uk’ulkan protests but does not share out loud. Shuri calling him by a name other than Namor, it is different. Even if it’s fishman.
Taking his silence as frustration, Shuri has a wry smile and suggests, “How about I help you out?”
“We do have an alliance, Princess. Of course I accept your help.”
“Well, Namor, do I have a story for you.” Shuri grins beautifully at him and proceeds to tell a very important story regarding her king regent.
At the end of next council meeting, K’uk’ulkan subtly gets M’Baku to regale his epic fight against the alien that snapped away half of the known universe.
“Armored beasts, grander than your whales, were eating at my men but we fought harder, stabbing through the inside of the creatures’ mouths. Throwing the purple giant’s own men into those gnarly maws.” M’Baku gestures his hands with grandeur and pride. One of his warriors behind him nods in recollection.
“Impressive,” K’uk’ulkan says and leads the gorilla towards the snare, “I can only image such a battle. Aliens and other super powered allies. Amazing. You must have saved a few of them, yes?”
“Of course I did,” M’Baku announces with greatness. “There was a talking tree, a few wizards with glowing weapons.”
“And a spider.”
Caught off guard, M’Baku said, “What.”
“A spider was swinging around too, I heard. He had to wrap you up in cobwebs and drag you out of an alien’s mouth.” M’Baku’s usual energy simmers down into a chill stillness. “But then the web also got all over your face and you were a mess of flailing limbs and webs.” K’uk’ulkan grins and praises, “An amazing start for Spidermonkey.”
M’Baku stares at him for a good long second. Then the King of Wakanda roars at the Black Panther, “Shuri!”
iii.
They’re sitting at a beach. Haiti is what the surface calls this place. It’s rather peaceful. K’uk’ulkan can understand why Shuri decides to visit here. The sun is almost setting, destined to reach the crashing waves, a journey K’uk’ulkan must follow as well. But that is for later.
He sits with Shuri on a well aged blanket, a picturesque moment unbecoming of the ferocity they once held for the other.
Here they hold hands instead of anger.
It’s a mystery how this began happening. These gentle touches as if they never caused harm. A clipped wing, mauled cheek, and the five deep cuts on his shoulder blade. Her claws have left a mark on his soul.
And her?
A spear to the stomach is nothing compared to the loss of a mother. And before his apperance, she has lost more.
K’uk’ulkan is aware of the atrocities he has caused Shuri and her Wakanda. All done as a reaction to the former queen’s own orders. Rash decisions from stubborn leaders will only cause war.
Shuri’s final decision is one of patience.
She lets him live, lets him be invited into Wakanda’s council, and lets him be with her on this beach.
Yet of all of those grand acts, holding her hand is the most surreal.
It could have been different.
K’uk’ulkan may have said those words, blinded by hope, but he did not imagine quiet moments like this.
This peace between them. It’s a threshold for them. A transitioning into the difference he had hoped for. For them to cross it, it takes the first step.
“Princess.”
“Yes?”
“Do you…” He shakes his head, no hesitation and no doubt. He does not dare to look at her reaction, staring at the parting sun. “You still refer to me as Namor.”
He forces the muscles in his to lax, to yield to her and see if she snatches away from him or digs her nails in or…
A thumb rubs along his knuckles.
“I do,” Shuri answers softly.
A quiet sigh escapes K’uk’ulkan. What else was he supposed to expect?
For him, the name of Namor does more than villainize him. It represents division, eras worth of brutality and slavery. It’s a moniker of a demon against oppressors and colonizers.
So to hear that name from someone he wanted as an ally is rather heartbreaking.
Yet her own pain is justified.
“I loathed you. You took my mother away from me. I wanted to enjoy burning you but I didn’t. Inflicting pain because of my own is a cycle I needed to stop. It would only further make us…” She squeezes her other hand over her knees, “…killmongers. I don’t want to be that.”
“You’re not,” K’uk’ulkan assures. Despite their final fight, he knows this to be true. “You spared me and I yielded. You, Shuri of Wakanda, are noble.”
Shuri tucks her chin in but he sees her lips form a wobbly smile. “Noble?”
She said it so quietly, so unsure and yet hopeful.
K’uk’ulkan continues to assure her, to see that smile persevere.
“You’ve seen the world more than I have in centuries. The few times we collect information on the surface, we always suspect the worst. I only see the worst. Yet you see the world in better eyes. You speak of technology as a tool and not a weapon. You saw my Talokan and saw it in the same grace as your Wakanda. I cannot thank you enough for that.”
In a bold, selfish act, he raises their joined hands to his lips. Pressing his damp lips against the back of her hand. Sitting right besides her, he feels the instant tension in her body. A shaky breath comes before his name.
“Namor,” and oh the ache she sends down his soul, “I don’t, I mean…”
Shuri lowers their hands away from his lips. K’uk’ulkan is captured by the conflicting emotions wrestling on her face.
She’s grieving, she’s hoping, she’s confused, and many other pains and frustrations due to his presence.
Or perhaps he is all of those things due to hers.
“You are…” Shuri tries to bite the smile off her lips, a flash of envy stabs into K’uk’ulkan. She lets out a short laugh and faces away from him, narrowing her eyes at the sunset. “You are too many things to me."
iv.
Talokan’s security system would be atypical compared to the surface. Then again, K’uk’ulkan would call the surface technology atypical simply because it is of the surface dwellers.
Either way, the security system of oceanic currents and whale calls proceeds accordingly when an unknown figure is swimming to K’uk’ulkan’s private cravens.
He leads Attuma and Namora to the breached sector, the dark waters gliding past them.
There in the darkest depths is an unnerving glow, brighter than any bioluminescent and gliding a little too mechanically through the water. Night vision is natural to Talokans yet they are in great surprise to see who has entered their territory.
K’uk’ulkan is greeted with the unblinking glowing whites of the Black Panther.
Her suit is as sleek as ever with some additional equipment attached to her back and her calves to improve her swimming.
Shuri salutes with her arms crossed, the signature of Wakanda.
“Black Panther,” K’uk’ulkan announces, more for his generals than for her, “I welcome your surprising visit. Follow us.”
He’s not entirely sure if her communication device is attuned to underwater soundwaves. His generals are watching, the other sentries are likely monitoring as well, so he makes a bit of a show of this.
K’uk’ulkan presents his arm and Shuri accepts it. They swim together to the caverns of his home and quickly dismiss his guards. He’s not sure if he can mask up his delight and surprise in a kingly or godly manner.
“You’re here!”
The mask undoes itself like a tidal wave, letting her take a deep inhale of wet moss and rocks. The torchlight helps bring a shine on her dry skin and braided hair.
“I made upgrades,” she grins proudly. “It was trickier than I thought to calibrate against the water pressure. I hope my surprise didn’t cause too much of an alarm.”
K’uk’ulkan laughs at the irony, “Only the same amount as when I first swam into your waters unannounced.”
“Well,” Shuri’s eyes flickered to below his waist, “you did bring your spear.”
The Feathered Serpent God raised an eyebrow, fully knowing that his spearhead is held upright. Nonetheless a hot flash of pride arises, it only grows when the Black Panther turns away.
She walks further into his home.
K’uk’ulkan follows.
The rocky pathway trails past the grotto K’uk’ulkan personally attends to. Anemones bloom colorfully under the water and seaweed stretches to the idle surface. It’s all for the tiny fish to thrive in, certainly not to awe a princess.
Shuri crouches down, taps a sharp nail on the water before dipping it under to feel the roughness of the closest coral.
“You didn’t show me this last time.”
“There were other important sights to take you to.”
“This,” she gestures to his garden, her hand still under the water, brushing against the sealife, “is equally important, I believe.”
A warmness spreads in K’uk’ulkan. This little part of his home, only for his eyes to behold and attend to, is important to him. Another memento of his dear mother and another thing to share with his dear princess.
“Thank you,” K’uk’ulkan finds himself saying, suddenly becoming quiet and unsure.
He is so familiar with the beauty of Talokan as a whole, his people and culture. To see her admire such a personal sanctuary of his, a grotto he has cultivated for centuries, it leaves him unfamiliar on how to respond.
“No need to thank me,” Shuri smirks at him but any amount of teasing she tries is ultimately softened when she spies a school of fish swimming into the grotto.
She’s utterly fascinated and in return, K’uk’ulkan is fascinated by her.
“But I do,” K’uk’ulkan admits softly, “I do need to thank you for many things. Your kindness, your hopes, and-”
“Namor, I did not come down here for your sentimentalities.” Shuri interrupts coldly. Her posture is stiff with hackles raised.
“Then why did you come down here?”
He waits for her, for centuries he has waited but only recently does he accept that she is at the end of his eternity.
Ever so slowly, miniscule emotions twitch under her skin. Frustration in her narrowed eyebrows, then they pinch with a huff. Her shoulders tense up further as her hands curl, like she’s holding back a slash of claws.
The cavern may have its natural tranquilness but the peace between them is as fragile as ever. K’uk’ulkan knows he is the main cause of her discomfort.
Yet he often wonders if Shuri at least feels something other than pain when she’s with him. She invented and improved her suit to reach Talokan.
That has to mean something but K’uk’ulkan doubts that she would ever admit it.
K’uk’ulkan knows better.
When Shuri faces him, there are still flickers of that fire from their last fight. It shall never truly lose its embers.
“I came down to see the older models of your respirators,” She said professionally. “All to create a longer lasting version for future embassy members.”
It’s all the right words becoming of royalty and a science, K’uk’ulkan would never doubt such words from Shuri.
Yet he pushes forward, takes a step closer and practically brushes his lips to the crown of her head. “Princess, you modified your suit, swam miles under darkness, became a security breach and potentially risked more alarm… for old mask designs.”
It might be foolish to be so close, to set aside his spear and be in range of her claws. All to be in a constant push and pull with this woman, but K’uk’ulkan already knows her wrath.
Shuri does dig her claws into him. She merely taps his cheek away from her. He almost closes his eyes at the feeling of vibranium against his skin, a masochistic rapture waiting for more. For this is all she would give him, if not comfort or mercy, then he will lap up any amount of attention from the Black Panther.
“If you say it like that, it makes me sound stupid. I am not stupid, Namor.”
“Of course Princess.” He allows that name to wound him, to have her attention on him. “Once more, you’re willing to lend your genius for Talokan.”
Shuri tries to dismiss his sentiments again, withdrawing away from him. “This is what alliances are for.”
“No,” K’uk’ulkan says softly, “I know this is all you, Princess. You extend so much of yourself to Talokan even though I am still Namor to you.”
Finally, a smile cracks from the great panther. Her genuine joy cuts sharper than vibranium.
“Just because I think of you as Namor does not mean I think of you as the boy without love. I know better.”
K’uk’ulkan freezes, ignoring the whole world in favor of memorizing this moment.
At the same time, Shuri enjoys his silence. Her attention returns to his grotto.
“It’s like my lab,” she muttered to herself, observing the sealife like it is the starry sky.
v.
Tonight is not a date.
The private moments they shared together, often during late evening or the dawn of mornings, are also not dates.
So tonight is no different, more or less.
Yet a dinner is prepared on a balcony that overlooks the Golden City. Both he and Shuri are dressed in their rank for the council meeting they attended earlier. The other guests have left but the Feathered Serpent God was invited to stay a tad bit longer than the others. K’uk’ulkan assured his generals that there was no harm and Shuri managed to leave her Dora Milaje inside the building.
It is just the two of them, exactly how they would watch the sunset on the beach.
This is not a date.
It would be insane to think so.
But it would be more insane to turn down such a night.
So he wore his traditional garments of vibranium bracers and collar but fashioned with a tunic and his grandest cloak to combat the evening chill. He omitted his feathered headdress and went with a simplified version, blue feathers cuffed onto his right ear.
Princess Shuri of the Golden Tribe dresses to match her station but K’uk’ulkan would argue she is above that.
A regal gown of the deepest of jades, nearly as dark as night but shining purple vibranium is woven through, creating intricate embroidery. Many layers fold over her shoulders, yet leaves room for a wide collar, leaving her neck bare for only a black pendant. It is utterly distracting but his eyes are drawn elsewhere.
There on her wrist is his mother’s bracelet.
It was the first thing he noticed when he entered Wakanda. Only now is he able to stand so close to her, to truly appreciate the walking mural he desperately wants to paint.
He approaches her, a million thoughts on the light makeup around her eyes, the sweet perfume dapped on her neck, and the nonexistent weight of expectations lifted off her shoulders.
With her council, she is their crown princess, their protector, their future.
With him, K’uk’ulkan can only hope to be a part of her future. His one reassurement is the past tied around her wrist.
Shuri graces him with that very hand. He holds it dearly, once again cherishing the entity that is holding both his past and future.
“You kept it,” He said, nearly breathless.
Her tone matches him, a quietness that is sacred. “I did.”
“Why?”
“It’s a precious gift from Namor. Proof that you are a child with love.”
K’uk’ulkan loathes that name, but the way it is presented on those painted lips, spying the movement of her tongue, it’s different.
Proof. Shuri said it so easily, as if she is not aware she is another reason for him to love.
Whatever emotion is conveyed in his own eyes, it has Shuri breaking eye contact. A shyness or hesitance makes her bite her bottom lip.
“I had thoughts of getting rid of this but I was convinced otherwise.” Before K’uk’ulkan even had the chance to be forlorn, Shuri placed her free hand on the bracelet, their fingers brushing against each other as she gently rubbed at one jadestone. “I couldn’t. I didn’t want to let this go. It has become important to me.”
“Truly?” He asks, needing any doubt to die under her kind words.
“Truly,” She promises. Shuri tilts her head, a flash of hurt in her eyes, “Did you want it back?”
A terrible lurch enters his heart at the sight of the Black Panther’s sadness.
“No, no it is yours to keep, Princess Shuri of Wakanda.”
He curls his hands over hers, the jade bracelet is at the center of their worlds. K’uk’ulkan wants to give her more, endlessly giving her everything he can provide to her.
Shuri’s smile lights up his night.
vi.
“Hi K’uk’uklan.”
He blinks.
This was just another casual alliance meeting, one taking place at her laboratory. As usual she greets him at the airship’s landing pad. His newly recovered wings floated him down and he was about to land gracefully until he heard that name.
He stumbles at the short drop and practically flails his arms to regain balance.
“Did you just-“
“Come along, we don’t have all day.” He caught her wide smirk before she walked to the lab entrance.
He rushes to her side, leaning a bit forward to see more of her goofy smile.
“Princess, I know what I heard and-"
“Then you know to come along.”
She speeds up but K’uk’ulkan manages to step in her path. He levels her with not a pout, definitely not. It’s more desperate than that. He can’t stop the grin forming, all but begging her say his name.
But Shuri stands her ground. Crossing her arms with a lopsided smile, her eyes shining with pride and amusement. Yet she stays silent.
This staring contest ends with him dropping his shoulders, slouching and shaking his head. “Princess, this is torture.”
“Good,” she said with no mercy.
The Feathered Serpent God huffs before taking a step closer. His forehead nearly pressed against hers.
In the little space between them, his breath dancing in with hers, K’uk’ulkan pleas, “Please, will you say my name again?”
Her eyes light up. A hand glides against his bare shoulder and rests near his ear, cupping heat around the sensitive skin. Her other hand reaches for his hand, instantly their fingers intertwined.
Shuri closes in like a gentle wave, brushing their lips together for the briefest moment. He closes his eyes and feels her lips shape into the very thing he wished to hear for so long.
“K’uk’uklan.”
Oh.
Now this is torture.
vii.
“Princess, you’ve been working too much. Stuck in your lab and ignoring me.”
“Hmm.”
“See, you’re ignoring me Shuri.”
“Just a few more minutes, K’uk’ulkan.”
“Come on, Princess.”
No reaction.
But then… an idea.
“Kitten.”
Her entire being stills.
He grins and licks his lips before speaking.
“Pussycat.”
She turns ever so slowly and glares at him.
He waits a few seconds, dips his chin down to see her fire through his batting eyelashes.
“My little meow meow.”
“NAMOR!”
She chases him out of the lab.