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Moana, chief of Motunui, is not a violent person by nature. She takes after her father that way. When faced with conflict, Tui Waialiki preferred the peaceful approach if at all possible. On their sea voyages, Moana was able to witness first-hand his skills in diplomacy when discovering new islands, meeting village chiefs, and negotiating trade deals. Although they experienced a few hostile encounters, he always seemed to get his people out of them without a fight. There was no tense or dangerous situation he couldn't talk his way out of. He was the ali'i with the silver tongue.
Since his passing a year ago, Moana has tried her best to follow his example in leadership. When disputes arise among her own people, she asks herself what her father would have done. And she never, ever lashes out physically in anger, except when extremely provoked.
Lately, however, she has been pondering various ways it might be possible to murder a demigod.
It has been a little over a week since Maui took her sailing on her canoe on the night before she was supposed to wed a matai from a neighboring island and, in a bold, dramatic move that was purely Maui, somehow convinced her to marry him instead. Moana never saw it coming; aside from the constant playful banter they've always shared, which sometimes bordered on flirtation, he never gave any indication that he returned the feelings she secretly harbored for him since she was a teenager. In all fairness to him, it was very sweet and romantic, and she was glad he confessed his love before it was too late to do anything about it. But it was also typical of him to wait until the last possible moment. The big dope.
It was also potentially problematic. Moana's betrothed, Tuala, traveled a considerable distance with many of his people for the wedding ceremony and subsequent celebrations, and she wasn't at all sure how they would react to a broken marriage contract. But although they were not pleased to learn that the wedding was off, they accepted the news with surprisingly little resistance. Of course, that might have had something to do with Maui's involvement in the matter. Angry or not, they weren't about to argue with a demigod.
To appease Tuala and his people, and to compensate them for their journey, Moana gave them supplies of food and water, jewelry, and tapa mats before sending them on their way. The gesture made her feel marginally better, but she still felt lingering guilt over the whole situation; she is not the type of person to break a promise. She had little time to wallow in self-recrimination, however, because Maui immediately began plans for another wedding — a wedding that had to be bigger, better, and more spectacular than anything the village of Motunui has ever seen. Because it's Maui, and he doesn't know the meaning of the word "subtle".
Moana didn't quite know what to expect after his proposal, but to her surprise, their relationship doesn't seem to change all that much. She was afraid the addition of romantic love into their bizarre dynamic of bickering, affection, and mutual exasperation might make things awkward between them. But thankfully, Maui treats her exactly the same as he always has. He still teases her, musses her hair, and throws her into the ocean at every opportunity. Nothing new there.
The only thing different is that he develops an aggravating new habit: embarrassing her in front of her people.
The first time it happens, she is attempting to settle an argument between two of the village's fishermen. One borrowed the other's fishing net without permission, and it tore a small hole on a coral reef while pulling in a catch. The fishermen who used the net refuses to fix it, since he gave the owner his entire haul of fish as compensation. Moana is deep in thought, trying to decide how best to satisfy both parties, and is therefore unaware that Maui has overheard the conversation.
He struts over, cracking his knuckles. "I'll take this one, Mo," he says with a complacent smile. "Maui is awesome at repairing nets."
Moana is torn between appreciation for his desire to help and irritation over his interference. "Thank you for the offer, Maui," she says, as kindly as she knows how, "but I'm handling the situation."
He brushes her off as casually as he would swat at a fly. "Nah, nah, it's okay," he tells her, his tone infuriatingly patronizing. "I got this, dollface. You just get back to kissing babies."
Outrage and disbelief render Moana temporarily speechless. The fishermen exchange an uncertain glance, before handing him the torn fishing net. "That is very generous of you, Lord Maui," one of them says slowly.
The demigod chuckles as he throws the net over his massive shoulder. "Please, guys, it's just Maui," he replies. "And don't worry about it. I'll have it for you as good as new, faster than you can say 'humuhumunukunukuāpua'a'."
Moana gapes at him, mouth hanging slightly open, vocal chords still paralyzed. Oblivious, Maui leans down and gives her a peck on the cheek, then saunters off, humming to himself.
She feels her face and the tips of her ears grow hot with embarrassment as the two fishermen share an amused smirk. The look quickly vanishes when the full force of Moana's glare nearly reduces them to charred, smoking husks.
The next time it happens, she is choosing a scouting party to send into the jungle, to hunt for wild pig for the wedding feast. To her surprise, Maui offers to join the group. The hunters are thrilled and honored to have the benefit of the demigod's expertise, and Moana herself is so touched by his enthusiasm and his readiness to assist her people that she forgives his earlier transgression.
"That's a very nice gesture, Maui," she tells him sincerely.
He beams in genuine pleasure. "Hey, anything for you, Momo," he says, chucking her playfully under the chin.
And then, to her eternal mortification, he gives her a giant smooch on the lips in front of the entire hunting party.
Her motor controls cruelly forsake her, and she stands frozen in place as he pulls away and tousles her hair into a tangled mess. "Onward, my mortal brothers," he tells the hunters, making a sweeping forward motion with his fishhook. "We're burning daylight, and my belly wants pork."
Chuckling, the men follow him into the jungle, leaving Moana to stare at his retreating back with mounting fury.
What. The. Hell.
And it keeps happening. At the most inappropriate times. Whether she's teaching the younger girls a dance, or helping the elderly villagers with a task, or getting ready to take the little ones on their first sail, Maui somehow manages to appear unexpectedly and embarrass her with a very public display of affection. Her people find it endlessly entertaining. Moana is ready to commit deicide.
At one point, Moana is weaving mats with her mother and some of the other village women. As she hangs her finished piece on a line, she notices a chicken pecking the ground near her feet. She pays it no heed, until suddenly in a flash of blue light, it transforms into the familiar shape of her hulking fiancé. Before she has time to react, Maui snatches her by the waist, swoops her into a low dip, and kisses her while her limbs pinwheel ineffectually.
His lips leave hers with a loud smack. "Stealth kiss!" he says in a high falsetto, before dropping her flat on her behind.
Enraged, Moana makes a grab for him, but he dodges her, laughing. Then, with another flash, he changes into his hawk form and takes to the air.
Moana scrambles to her feet. "Maui!" she shouts at his shrinking silhouette. "You idiot!"
She turns toward the women. Every single one of them is either chuckling or making a half-hearted attempt not to. Even her own mother, the traitor, is hiding a smile behind her hand.
Moana's fists clench at her sides. "Excuse me for a moment," she says in a low, dangerous voice.
She finds Maui down by the ocean, in his human form again. For some inexplicable reason, he seems to be collecting shells and placing them in a small bag. Without preamble, she stomps down the beach and socks him in the gut, causing him to drop the shells in surprise.
"What is wrong with you?" she demands furiously.
Maui frowns at her and picks up the bag, rubbing absently at the place where her fist collided with his stomach. "Uhh, nothing," he says, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I'm a demigod. There's literally nothing wrong with me."
Moana shakes her head. "I mean, what has gotten into you lately? Popping up out of nowhere with your dumb little surprise attacks and your... your 'stealth kisses'?" She pantomimes quotation marks in his face.
The demigod chuckles. "Pretty cute, right?"
"No!" She stamps her foot in the sand, not caring how immature the action might appear. "It's humiliating! My whole village is laughing at me, and it's all because of you." She pokes him on the chest, and his little tattooed alter-ego has to jump aside to avoid her finger. "You're undermining my authority as chief, and I want you to stop."
Maui bats her hand away. "I'm just having some fun, Mo," he answers with a careless shrug. "Gods, you're so serious. And for the record, no one's laughing at you. They're laughing at me. Maui the trickster, remember?"
"Well, I'm not laughing," she tells him with a scowl.
"Moana..." He sighs. "Lighten up."
"I will not lighten up." She draws herself to her full, less-than-intimidating height, juts out her chin, and places her fists on her hips. "As chief of Motunui, I command you to... to knock it off!"
Maui stares at her silently, his expression curiously blank. And then he bursts out laughing.
Moana watches indignantly as he doubles over, clutching his stomach as if in actual physical pain. He attempts to speak in between bouts of uncontrollable laughter. "You command me to... Oh, you... Oh, man, that's adorable. You're so adorable." He takes a deep breath and wipes his eyes. Then, to her further chagrin, he plucks her bodily off the ground and hugs her tightly, swinging her back and forth like a doll, legs flailing. Moana is too incensed to speak.
After a moment he sets her down. "I gotta go. I promised some of the kids I'd tell them a story." He kisses the top of her head. "Catch you later, baby-cakes."
As he strolls leisurely away, Moana finally finds her voice. "This isn't over, Maui!" she calls after him. "I... I know where you live!"
Muttering inarticulately under her breath, she clumps down to the water, trying to calm down. The ocean rises up in a swell, watching as she paces angrily up and down the beach. Finally she turns to address it.
"Do you see what I have to put up with?" she huffs.
The swell just gives a motion vaguely resembling a shrug.
Moana sighs. "What am I going to do, ocean?" she asks it. "I love Maui. I really do. But let's face it. He's a big, stupid, impossible... man-wall." She shakes her head. "How on earth are you supposed to get a guy to listen to you, when he's a demigod who has spent his whole life doing whatever he wants?"
As soon as the words leave her lips, the answer hits her like a coconut to the head. It's almost absurd in its simplicity. She obviously can't order Maui to stop embarrassing her, and something tells her that she can't reason with him, either. Her only recourse is revenge.
An idea begins to form in her mind. An awful, petty, cruel idea.
It's perfect.
After making her plans, she wanders over to the group of village children who have gathered around to hear one of Maui's stories and stands surreptitiously in the background. The kids swarm all over him, perching on his shoulders and crawling over his legs, and he soaks up every bit of their attention. It's clear that they adore him, and there is every evidence that their feelings are heartily returned. Moana almost feels guilty for what she is about to do.
But not guilty enough.
In addition to the children, Maui is also surrounded by chickens — the numerous offspring of her dear-departed pet rooster, Heihei. His progeny evidently inherited his brains, because they never seem to mind when Maui juggles them or threatens to roast them alive. They peck at the ground around him and roost in his lap, and he endures their presence with the same good-natured exasperation with which he tolerated Heihei.
"Chickens love me," he tells the children, absently petting a particularly slow-witted hen that has attempted to build a nest in his lava-lava. "All birds, actually. You know all those pretty little brightly-colored songbirds you see flitting around this island? You can thank me for that. Before I came along, humans couldn't see those birds. They heard their song, but they didn't know where it was coming from." He shrugs. "They thought it was... fairies or something, I don't know. Who can really say with you guys?
"Anyway, I was the only one who could see them. Demigod," he adds, pointing to himself, as if that explained everything. "But I thought that was a shame, you know? So you know what I did? I called all the birds to me, and I painted each and every single one of their feathers, until they were every color of the rainbow."
He mimics the motion of painting, as if wielding a tiny brush, and Moana can't help but smile as she listens. He really is an entertaining storyteller.
"And when you humans could finally see what was making all that beautiful music," he says, "you were so happy, you lost your minds." He leans expectantly toward his rapt audience. "So what do you say?"
"Thank you, Maui!" they reply in unison.
"You're welcome," he says indulgently.
Moana walks over to him, and his face lights up at the sight of her. "Hey, Momo! Did you like my story?"
"Oh, yes," she answers with a nod. "Fascinating, if true."
Maui scoffs. "Of course it's true. Have I ever lied to you?"
"Uhhh..."
"So!" he addresses the children. "Any questions?"
A dozen little hands shoot up. "Yes, you," he says, pointing to a young girl who is waving her arm frantically. "Arihi, right? Go ahead."
Arihi's gaze flicks briefly toward Moana, before returning to Maui. "When you and Chief Moana get married," she asks hesitantly, "are you gonna be her wife?"
The demigod's eyebrows climb toward his hairline. "What?" he blurts. His eyes dart toward Moana, and he forces a chuckle. "No, no, no. You've got it all backwards, kid. Moana is going to be my wife."
Moana raises a hand to her mouth and gives a light cough. "Actually... she's right," she tells him.
The children start to giggle, and Maui's cheeks take on a distinct reddish tinge as he stares at her in disbelief. "I mean," she goes on, leaning casually on his shoulder, "I'm the ali'i, and you're marrying me, so technically that makes you my faletua. My consort." She smirks down into his blushing face. "My wife."
The kids fall all over themselves in helpless laughter. Maui sits in stunned silence, his mouth slightly open.
Amid the merriment, Moana reaches down and pats his topknot. "Don't be late for dinner, baby-cakes."
For the rest of the day, Maui is conspicuously nowhere to be found. Moana allows him his space, and by the time evening falls, she finally decides to put him out of his misery. She finds him in his fale, which the village helped him build shortly after he began visiting Motunui on a regular basis.
He's sitting on a fala mat, working on something with his hands. As she enters, he hides it quickly behind his back.
She leans against the entrance post with a small smile. "Hey, wifey," she says.
He glares at her, unamused. "That wasn't funny," he grumbles, getting to his feet.
"Sure it was," she replies, coming over to stand beside him. "Lighten up, Maui. Don't be so serious."
She fixes him with a pointed look. Slowly, his gaze softens, and he sighs. "I... Yeah. Okay. I deserved that." He reaches out for her hand, engulfing it in his large one. "I'm sorry, Moana. I acted like a jerk. I promise not to embarrass you in front of your people."
Moana smiles, giving his hand a squeeze. "And I promise not to call you my wife." She raises a mischievous eyebrow. "At least, not in public."
Maui chuckles. "Come here," he says, tugging on her hand.
She gladly steps into his embrace, and he pulls out the object he was concealing behind his back — a necklace of shells, strung on a strand of coconut fiber, with alternating pink scallops and white cowries. Moana bites her lip, unexpectedly bashful, as he pushes her hair aside and ties the string of shells around her neck, over her grandmother's necklace.
"It's beautiful," she murmurs, standing on her toes and pressing her nose to his.
Maui's blush is quite possibly the most ridiculously endearing thing Moana has ever seen. "Shut up," he mutters. "It's terrible."
She kisses him slowly, hands on his broad chest. He sighs contentedly into her kiss, and his own hands settle on her hips, strong fingers kneading her skin. When they part, his breath is slightly unsteady, and Moana is both startled and satisfied to realize that he is every bit as affected by the attraction between them as she is.
"Ten days," he rasps into her ear. "Ten days until you're mine."
Moana shivers at the desire in his tone. Finding her boldness again, she pushes gently on his chest. "No," she says, "ten days until you're mine." She grins and kisses his chin. "Maui Waialiki."
He laughs softly. "Yes, sir," he replies.
She can practically feel his smile as she walks away.
As she leaves his fale and follows the path back up to her own, she passes Arihi and stops to give her a high five.
"Worked like a charm."