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Her husband was back. Attuma knew she was married. She told him when he expressed his interest, but he thought the man was locked up in prison, someone she trotted out to put distance between them so they would only remain training partners.
However, a year into the Talokan and Wakandan alliance he must have gotten out because her husband was back home.
And he did not like Attuma. The feeling was mutual, of course, but not for the same reasons. W'Kabi didn't like Okoye doing anything without him anymore. He wanted to clip Okoye's wings, take away the extended freedom she had as a Midnight Angel who was needed outside of the country. Attuma just wanted what W'Kabi had. In other circumstances, he'd kill the man and move on, but that's not how it worked in the surface world. Well, it was how it worked sometimes, but he was pretty sure it wasn't how it would work with Okoye. Attuma didn't think she'd talk to him again if he murdered her husband. He was still thinking about risking her wrath though as he showed up to her house to prepare for training.
"I'm not having this argument with you again, W'Kabi."
"I just don't understand why you have to go."
"You never said this when I was the general of the Dora Milaje."
Attuma's hearing was sharper than those on land and the raised voices reverberated outside to him.
"That's because there were less away missions! You were only guarding the king or doing necessary things. Now you go at the drop of a hat. You don't think of me."
There wasn't even a pause. "Think of you? Are you kidding right now? This is rich coming from you, of all people!" Attuma was sure there was an actual hiss in Okoye's voice. He could only imagine the snarl that accompanied the words.
"I didn't mean it like that, Okoye."
"You are so selfish. You are so completely selfish. I could have left you in that prison to rot. Instead, I petitioned King M'Baku for your release and this is how you repay me."
"Okoye! Okoye!"
Attuma took that time to knock on the door, his heart hurt at this new knowledge. If he had someone that loyal, that beautiful, that amazing...
The door swung open and W'Kabi's look formed such a fierce scowl that his lower face scrunched into a tight ball.
"It's you. Of course, it's you." W'Kabi always clipped his words when he talked to Attuma. He yelled out to Okoye, "Your little training partner is here."
Attuma silently fumed at the insult, but remembered that Okoye would be spending the afternoon with him.
------
He landed a harsh blow to her legs and swept her high into the air before she crashed back into the mat. Hard.
She groaned from the landing.
"You are going to get injured if you do not get your mind into the fight," he said.
"I know. I know." She sat too long on the floor. Sweat poured over her as she put her head in her hands.
"Do you want to talk about it?" he offered.
He hated talking to people about their problems. Namora had tried often to talk about the bad parts of her day or a particularly tricky battle and he always side stepped her conversation, never wanting to listen to chatter he didn't have to, but Okoye was different. He wanted every piece of her she would share with him.
"No. No."
He joined her on the floor. He was quite agile despite his size, and his massive limbs compacted to sit opposite of her.
He took her hand. "If it was me, you would never have to feel guilty about defending your country."
She closed her eyes. "Please, Attuma," she started.
"He doesn't deserve you."
"And you do?" she bit back.
"No. I don't deserve you either, but I'd be honored if you let me into your life. I would not treat you like this. I would not try to control you. We are warriors, and warriors will never be happy if they do not fight. It is our nature. You deserve to fly free."
She inhaled and searched his eyes. "Please don't say these things," she paused. "Aren't there some hot Talokanil women out there competing for you?"
"There are," he acknowledged, "but none of them are you."
"I'm married," she whispered. She sounded much more desperate than she had before, like she'd run straight up a mountain and there was little breath left in her body.
"What do you wish?"
"That my husband loved and cared for me as much as I care for him." She didn't say it, but they both heard, "as much as you care for me."
He nodded and rose from his position. They only trained a little more that day because both of them were distracted, but for different reasons. Her for the reason of mourning what could be in her marriage, and him because he was willing to give it all to this one woman.
He sent flowers. Ornate and elaborate bouquets that he arranged to display his heart. Dozens of red roses. A bountiful of lilies. Sweet eye-popping daisies, big, bold sunflowers, precious peonies, and cartons of carnations. Each new week, he secretly paid to have them shipped to her. If they weren't native to Wakanda, he had them imported through the merchants on the account King M'Baku extended to Talokan. He paid for them with gifts given to the shop owners: rare pearls, found gold, treasures rediscovered in the depths of the sea.
He sent jewelry. Melons and juicy fruits. Clams and oysters. He bought her bags of rich, European coffee and decorative mugs. He sent her clothes. Fuzzy slippers. A cashmere robe. A form-fitting white dress that, when he saw it, he imagined pulling it off her slowly.
And he put them all in W'Kabi's name.
It hurt him at first, but each session, she smiled more. Each time he showed up at her door, the voices were quieter, nicer, happier.
She glowed.
------
And then there was the accident.
An unseen sniper shot her in the back while she was herding hostages away from their captors. She'd taken the top of her suit off to make the children more comfortable. The bullet almost hit her in the head, nearly clipped her spine. Aneka stabilized her with the help of GRIOT.
It was the fastest he made it from Talokan to Wakanda. He'd been so desperate to get to her that he'd almost drowned in the sea, a possibility he didn't know existed.
But W'Kabi was there and so he was not allowed to watch over her, not allowed to see for himself that she remained on this side of the ancestral plane.
He didn't eat. He didn't sleep. For once, Namora was so concerned that she didn't tease him about his obsession with the surface-warrior.
"You will die down here," she said, prodding him with his favorite meal.
"I will die without her," he replied. He pushed the food away.
She frowned. "Would she die for you?" She pulled no punches, really let it hang in the air.
But Attuma didn't care.
He'd never met someone like her, never met a warrior as fierce as him. Surface-warriors were weak and primitive. When their guns didn't kill the Talokanil, they always cowered in fear. He couldn't recall how many of these warriors he'd seen relieve their bowels because their bullets didn't deter him. Even when he slammed her into his weapon, she had still fought. She would have fought until he took her last breath. She would have fought to the death with dignity and honor and with her head held high. That kind of passion and loyalty and bravery was even hard to find in Talokan. Namora had it. But she had at least more than 100 years of fighting on the warrior. K'uk'ulkan had it, but he was a God and mutant, and no one would count a god against a mortal.
K'uk'ulkan visited. He gave Attuma the customary greeting, which Attuma didn't return. "My son. You are unwell. Would you risk all of Talokan for one surface-warrior?"
Attuma winced and turned away. He knew the story, the story of how her husband asked if she would choose him or Wakanda. She had chosen Wakanda without hesitation. And yet, he could not do the same.
"I do not wish to dishonor you, K'uk'ulkan. I do not wish to dishonor my people, but to me she is my people also."
K'uk'ulkan nodded. "You are truly besotted by this warrior. Go to her. Expose the layers of your heart. Do not be shy. If she will not have you, you will need to accept her decision finally."
"They will not allow me." He will not allow me, he wanted to say, but there was still an undercurrent of shame for coveting another man's wife.
"The Black Panther has stated that the warrior has returned from her temporary journey to the ancestral plane. I think she will see you for herself."
------
She was on the beach waiting for him when he got out of the water. "I think I knew it was you the entire time, but I hoped it meant W'Kabi decided to value me. I'm sorry." Okoye touched his hand.
"You don't have to be sorry, " he started.
"No," she shook her head, "I do. You have never hidden your feelings, and I can't lie: it made me feel good, made me feel wanted. A woman needs that sometimes, but I took advantage of you."
He started to speak, but she shook her head. "I did. Not intentionally, but I did. I do not wish to be cruel to you, Attuma. W'Kabi and I are through, but I do not wish to string you along."
"Will you have me?" he asked desperately.
"I need time, and I don't think that's fair to you or your hot Talokanil women," she joked.
"I do not care," he stated. His face was a mask of determination. Instead of cloying, the salty, sticky sweetness in the air was comforting.
She was taken aback. "Why do you love me so much?" She wasn't sure anyone ever loved her like this. W'Kabi certainly didn't love her as much as she loved him. He called her foolish and ranted at her the moment she awakened. It was so nasty, so mean, that she asked where the man who gifted her all those caring things was.
He'd snidely remarked, "Probably down in the sea drowning himself. You should have seen how distraught he looked when he wasn't allowed to see you. I think that big shark actually cried!"
All the anger and pain and hurt of the past eight years collapsed on top of her. She married a vicious man, someone who let his childhood trauma fester until it was a rotting, stinking thing that didn't allow for love and growth. She wounded Attuma over this man.
Attuma spoke, "You're the only person I've met like you. Your dedication and skills come from hardwork and discipline. You are braver than any other mortal I've seen. You have now fought death and won. You are beautiful. How can anyone look at you and not feel like they are in the presence of a great, natural wonder? Your generosity to strangers and friends extends beyond yourself. You give everything and want so little in return, but you deserve everything."
Okoye couldn't help but look away, tears in her eyes. No one ever said anything like that to her before.
"Give me a chance?" he repeated. His voice was small, so small that it seemed foreign coming from a man used to belting out commands.
Her cheeks were wet when she looked at him. She nodded. "Yes, I will. I'll give us a chance."
They were both happy, and finally it was for the same reason.