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nellycanwrite · 1 year

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An Order

Part 2 of “A Request” || Attuma x Talokanil!Princess!Reader

Summary: Your kingdom was at stake. Your thoughts are conflicted, your duties now weigh heavily on your shoulders, and the expectations of being K’uk’ulkan’s daughter puts you at risk as you try to talk with Princess Shuri of Wakanda. But you never had to worry—not when your lover, Attuma, was by your side to give you counsel.

Or, in which Attuma would soon realize that his own counsel would put you in jeopardy—bloodied and near death in his arms as you gave him your first order as princess.

Rating: 16+ || Viewer Discretion is Advised.

Word Count: 11.4K

Warnings: A very very angry Attuma and Namor. Heavy angst (oomph). Mentions of violence and near death experiences. Some bits are suggestive if you squint hard enough. Allusions of death. And if it’s any kind of consolation then tooth-rotting fluff too.

Note: It is worthy to note that I have not included any deep Yucatec Maya phrases (besides the terms of endearment) despite the Talokanil speaking in their native tongue as respect to their language. Therefore their mother tongue shall be labeled with italics.

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

As the daughter of the feathered serpent god, king of the great nation of Talokan, there were many things expected of you; the wisdom to rule with both mercy and hardened fists, the knowledge and wit that could challenge that of a merchant to negotiate terms to benefit your kingdom, and the grace befitting that of both nobility and divinity.

Of course, you were also expected to be as strong as your father. So strong, in fact, that they had compared the ire of the king to a great catastrophe that equaled the eruptions from the Pacific Ring of Fire.

It was impossible for you to achieve such a level of skill.

But that is why you train.

“Your attacks are still weak, in yakunaj.” My love, he said with an amused smirk. Even with a mask did he extrude such sly confidence that made you weak to your knees.

Attuma made a show of twisting his spear, droplets of sea water splashing across the walls that glowed with luminescent algae. You huffed and poised yourself to attack, your own vibranium spear pointed towards him in warning.

“You forget yourself, Attuma.” With the speed comparable to that of a great missile, you launched yourself forward with a beat of your feathered ankles. You heard him grunt when he put his spear up in defense, the clashing of vibranium creating an unpleasant screech as it collided with each other.

Despite you pushing against his weapon with your enhanced strength, Attuma far overwhelmed you with raw power. He slowly pushed you away and dove down to miss your incoming swing, taking your hips and slamming you into the ground. You felt the air escape from your lungs at the force, the grip of your weapon now long gone and away from your hands.

Attuma took your wrists in his large hand and pinned you against the floor, his masked lips dangerously close to yours. You used this time to catch your breath, your eyes boring into his own.

“Do you yield?” He asked. The blade of his spear had now lodged itself beside your head. You gave him an amused chuckle.

“Never.”

With a beat of your winged ankles, you tucked your knees in and kicked his stomach until he lost his balance. You wiggled your wrists out of his hand and flipped you over, the spear that was once beside you now thrown into the shallows of the underwater cave.

His sheer size required the aid of your two hands, your fingers dwarfed in comparison to his wrists. You leaned forward as you breathed hard, your legs locking his hips into place.

You stayed there for a while; your chests heaving in and out, your breaths falling into sync with each other, the drops of sweat and saltwater mixing together as you gazed into each other's eyes. There were unspoken words of ardor, the promises of a lifetime, and unwavering stubbornness that the both of you possessed in your mock fight.

“Yield.” You gasped out, your hands tightening around his wrists. He chuckled.

“Is that an order?” He cheekily asked. You playfully glared at him.

“I would very much appreciate it if you finally admit the better fighter between the two of us, my love,” you leaned in closer and ghosted your lips over his mask, “now yield.”

“What shame if her majesty's guard was weaker than she, no?”

You yelped when his hulking gait now rose and trapped you in his arms. He slammed you back into the rocks, this time pinning both of your wrists with both of his hands. His powerful legs secured yours in place, and the amused smirk still never left his lips behind that mask. His chuckle was low and sensual, a shiver running up your spine as he leaned in closer to you.

“I would not dare overpower her highness, but I have honor to uphold as your aide.”

You struggled against him, your wings fluttering and aiding your movements. But he held you with all his might—a being such as you had to be held with such great strength that it needed all of his attention. And he was the strongest man in Talokan besides your father.

“You dare pin your princess down?” You asked him with a smirk. His voice was gruff as he hummed, the gritted but silken sound sending heat to the tips of your pointed ears.

“Forgive me for being so shameless.” He did not sound apologetic, rather, he found the situation amusing. The oaken sheen of his eyes held a mischievous glint that made you become hyper aware of the warmth that somehow sent a shiver up your spine.

You found yourself becoming bolder under the influence of his own mischief.

“What punishment do you fancy, oh shameless warrior?” You challenged him while leaning up to press your lips against his mask. You heard the ever so subtle hitch from his breath and felt the grip of his hands tightened around your wrists. “Whatever shall I do to you for this treachery?”

“Yield and I shall let you do your bidding, in princesa. Anything you want.” His voice dropped and made your thoughts hazy; you would have mistaken him for using his hypnotic melody to control you to his bidding.

You bat your lashes at him in faux admiration, over acting the delightful gasp that came from your mouth. You pressed your chest against his, the jewels that adorned your neck making it impossible to satisfy the itch that you desperately wanted to satiate.

“Anything?”

Attuma tightened the hold on your wrists and licked his lips behind his mask, his piercing eyes darkening as he slowly lowered himself against you.

“Anything.”

“Ehem.”

Namora stood by the water's edge, one hand planted firmly in her waist and the other carrying the spear you gifted her for her achievements as the new general. She gave both of you a pointed look and groaned in mock disgust.

“Must you always do that when you train?”

Attuma removed himself from you slowly, careful not to hurt you in any way. He helped you up to your feet and kissed the side of your head as you finally stood. You smiled.

“Whatever do you mean, Namora? The General and I are merely sparring.”

“Don't play coy with me, princess,” she groaned, “you know fully what I mean. And Attuma, have some shame. You're training her, not winning her affections.”

“Everyday is a quest to win my beloved's affections, no?” Attuma made his point by taking your hand and kissing the healing scars from your earlier spar. You felt heat crawl from your neck as he did so.

Namora's face contorted to one of incredulousness.

“Unbelievable,” she almost laughed at the absurdity of it all, but she meant it in good faith, “ever since you have asked for her hand you have been quite bold. Whatever happened to the oh, so patient Attuma who was willing to wait three centuries before confessing to the princess, hm?”

“He could not wait any longer, I suppose.” You laughed when Attuma hissed at your best friend and relative, your hand now resting in his plated chest to calm him. You felt him shiver under your touch.

Attuma rolled his eyes at the both of you. “You speak as if I am not here.”

“And what of it?” Namora challenged playfully. Attuma kicked his spear up from the ground and caught it mid air, pounding it against the rocks as a declaration.

“I'll let you know that I am not to be ignored, especially if it's concerning my love for the princess.” He pounded the brunt of his spear to the floor again, but this time with much more strength that left dents on its wake.

“You dare challenge me? Oh, how frightening.” she twirled her spear around her head and poised it to attack.

“Can we please not do this today?” You groaned. Attuma and Namora always found a way to initiate a mock battle between the two of them. Although the show was impressive in its right, they would often make it more of a spar for endurance; their fights lasting half a day if left unsupervised.

But you had to admit, their battles—especially ones that concerned you or your father—is their little show of friendship. And it was their way to stay in their peak conditions as warriors.

“Is that an order, in princesa?” Attuma turned to you with a wide grin. You sighed.

“It's a request, my love. You know I don't like giving orders.”

“Then consider it fulfilled.” Attuma lowered his spear and stood in attention by your side as if nothing happened. Namora followed suit and cleared her throat, the playful disposition both of them had now fading.

“Thank you, my Generals. Although your love for battle is admirable, I think we have more pressing matters to attend to, no?” You looked at Namora in question. She straightened up and pounded her spear on the ground, the sea water splashing to your feathered ankles.

“K'uk'ulkan wishes all of his fighters to gather, in princesa,” she glanced at Attuma and shifted her eyes back to you, “and your presence is needed as well.”

“Whatever for?” You asked her, your head cocked to the side. Attuma used this opportunity to pick up your spear from the shallows and handed it to you, his fingers brushing over your own. You smiled at him thankfully, your body gravitating towards his out of habit.

“There have been…reports about the surface. I have been spared the details until all of us are present.”

You and Attuma looked at each other in question, but you followed Namora into the water to meet with your king.

Compared to the last few decades that you and Attuma have been together, he now had it in him to swim in stride with you. He didn't lower himself so far down to match the decorum of his nameless self, instead, he could now stand by your side as if you were equals, the titles he had garnered for himself speaking volumes of his place by your side.

He still submitted to you, his oath of piety resounding loud and clear through both words and actions. But you never really did find it in yourself to use your authority to such an extent. He would still follow your words as if they were the Word of truth, and he would still do your bidding even if you didn't ask him to.

Truly, no other man beside him could match the splendor that came with your name, and you had fallen harder for your warrior as soon as you learned that he had done all of this for your sake; so that he could stand by your side without anyone questioning your choice.

You had arrived at the bottom of the underwater coves that led to the entrance of your great city, your Generals now swimming back in respect. You nodded at them as you put your hand through the rock as a key, of some sort, that responded to the vibranium from your decorated vambrace.

Not a second later, a current formed in front of you that pulsed with the energy to propel you forward. You turned to your Generals and grinned.

“Shall we?”

You smiled bashfully when Attuma took your hand in yours as Namora swam forward to guide you. The strong current pushed you forward in speeds that only K'uk'ulkan could even fathom to achieve with his winged ankles. Although you bore the same likeness as him, you never did achieve his speed no matter how much you trained.

As soon as the rapid currents stopped, you waved by passing sea-life and greeted the whales that swam overhead with a joyous laugh as you approached the capital city of Talokan, the rays of the underwater sun now drawing closer as you approached.

“My daughter.” K'uk'ulkan greeted you with a soft smile as soon as you had arrived the throne room. You swam up to him as your Generals stayed behind, your father eyeing the lingering touch of your fingers on Attuma's bicep.

“I hope you are well, father,” you rested your forehead against his, his hands finding purchase on the back of your neck, “Namora told me you wanted to see us.”

“Yes. It is an urgent matter, my child.” His eyes flickered to that of a dark hatred that you could only remember him showing to surface-dwellers. You couldn't help but slowly pull back, your hands holding his and rubbing circles on the back of his own to somehow calm him. You resisted the urge to show fear—fear of such raw emotion that was but a fraction of a second from your own father.

“Then we mustn't waste a second longer.”

You took your place on your throne as a steady stream of other generals, warriors, and council members alike gathered below to wait for K'uk'ulkan's next words, murmurs erupting from your subjects about the possibilities of such a gathering of strong fighters. You had to wonder as well—why did your father call you all here? What had happened on the surface for this to be such an urgent matter?

In the middle of your own thoughts, Attuma swam forward to drape you in your royal robe and rested his forehead against yours.

“Your thoughts are loud, in yakunaj. Your people are worried.”

Your face broke into a grin.

“You mean you are worried.”

“How can I not? I worry for you everyday, my love. Especially after…” You silenced him by putting your pointed finger to his lips.

“It was six years ago, Attuma. I am well and alive. I will not disappear again, I assure you.”

Six years ago the ocean shook with Talokan's grief and rage when you, their darling princess, had suddenly disappeared and turned to dust along with half of your citizens. When you had magically appeared again, materializing on the same spot on your throne, Attuma was the first to cradle you and hold you tight—as if you were to become dust again if he did not hold you any tighter.

He never left your side since, and he constantly doted on you.

“You cannot blame me, my love,” he clasped the gold and jaden pins together and leaned into your ear so only you could hear, “I fear for what is to come. I have a bad feeling.”

“Purge your worries, my darling. Whatever may come we shall resolve together. Now swim back down before father decides to fight you again.”

You smiled and gave him a chaste kiss to the cheek before he descended down to join his ranks with an amused smile, but his worry lingered on his brow, still.

K'uk'ulkan put his hand up to silence his subjects. Not a moment later, the throne room fell into a hush. The water felt still and tense, tension practically surrounding all of you as you waited for your king's next words.

“There are whispers amongst the sea about the surface dwellers' activities. We had let them do as they wished far from our home, deterring them in utmost secrecy of our location. Although Talokan has remained safe, I'm afraid their next mission might compromise our well kept secret for centuries…”

Your father proceeded to tell you all about the vein of vibranium found in the Pacific and the intentions of surface dwellers to mine them dry. Reports from your scouts say of a machine that could detect vibranium—something that filled your subjects with great worry. If that machine could detect the smallest vein of vibranium on the bottom of the deep Pacific, who was to say that they would not find your kingdom rich in the precious metal as well?

Panicked murmurs coursed through the throne room, the voices of your worried citizens reaching a peak that buzzed the waters with anxiety. Fear.

You slammed your spear beside your throne, the vibranium reverberating and beckoning everyone to quiet down. You saw Attuma smirk—what great power you hold to silence warriors of great renown to your beck and call.

“Let the king speak, my brothers and sisters. Do not let your fear consume you. We are Talokan; we do not yield under the threat of surface dwellers.”

“The princess is correct,” your father rose from his throne and held his head up high, “there is no need to worry. We shall attack their base at night, covering ourselves in the darkness of the new moon. We shall eliminate the threat swiftly and disappear as we always have.”

“And what if we are to be discovered, in ajawo?” My king. An old council member voiced his thoughts, “their technologies have grown. There is no guarantee we can hide our attack.”

“The Wakandans will take the blame,” he said darkly, his voice sure and his strategies thought out, “they have so foolishly revealed themselves to the world and given the surface dwellers the opportunity to discover us. It is the consequence of their own actions. And Talokan will remain hidden. I shall discuss our course of action to your Generals—until then, you must prepare for battle.”

You stood and bowed your head before your father and king, putting your hands in the likeness of a serpent's mouth. Your subjects followed suit in reverence to their ruler.

“Líik’ik Talokan!”

Attuma was a man of few words, his actions spoke louder than his verbal promises. Yet in your presence did he always find his tongue spilling with praises for you, vows of his loyalty, and the whispers of his unending love for you at every moment that you were together.

He often told you that you were the very sea that sustained him—gave him life—whilst you placed your forehead unto his. He would pick up his spear and tell you that he was yours to use as you wished; but you never did use such authority.

He was enough. His love was always more than enough.

He told you that you were a strong woman. So strong, in fact, that he would often tell you that you would make a greater ruler than K'uk'ulkan (such a thought would have been treacherous, but he found comfort in voicing his deepest thoughts to you no matter how audacious it would be in the ears of the council.)

But in the face of a great threat, where your father had given you a task that far towered over you in dangerous foreboding, did you doubt those very same words that he would whisper against your skin.

“Are you alright, in yakunaj?” Attuma asked you, his hand caressing your waist as you sat by the rocks of the surface. You leaned into his shoulder—now stripped of the spiked armor that he always wore—and sighed.

“I'm alright. Just…nervous,” you intertwined your hands with his as you watched the stars that littered the sky, “father gave me such a big responsibility. I have never even set foot outside the reef but he expects me to lead a platoon of our finest sirens to initiate the strike. What if I fail? What if I start on the wrong note? What if I disappoint my father? What if—”

“And what if you don't?” He asked you, his thumb painting circles on your sun-kissed skin. “No one doubts your abilities. You will do just fine.”

Attuma watched as your eyes glazed with unshed tears. They were magnificent in every way; even in your sorrow did you outshine the moon that graced the sea.

He caught the saltine gems of your despair on his thumb, wiped it clean from your cheek, and brought his masked lips to kiss the trail that it left in its wake—just below your eyes that fluttered close as he drew near.

“And what if you are wrong?” You asked him, your voice cracking and stuttering.

His brows furrowed.

“Have I ever lied to you? Have I ever been wrong?”

“Well, consider this, what if—”

He silenced you with a thumb to your lips, grazing the supple flesh as he cooed for you to hush. For you to lay your worries at ease.

“What if I kiss you right now to silence your thoughts, my love?”

You blinked in surprise. Only have you noticed the proximity of your lips, of your eyes, of the touches of his fingers across your damp skin.

But you did not pull away.

He ghosted his fingers down to your neck, his touch lingering on the base of your pointed ears. You felt heat crawl up to your cheeks as he did so.

Attuma stared into your eyes, waiting for your response. Your eyes flickered to his lips, then back to his earthen gaze, and then back to his lips.

You burst into fits of laughter.

“...Your mask, my dear,” you giggled, “you cannot possibly kiss me when your lips are sealed in land.”

He pressed his forehead against yours and laughed with you.

“But have I not calmed the storm of your thoughts?” He inquired cheekily. You laughed in disbelief and rested your hands on his barren chest.

“You are an insufferable man, Attuma.”

“And you are simply exquisite, my princess.” He drew himself closer, your bodies sharing what little heat the both of you had from the cool, night air. You felt him playing with the ends of your hair as he continued to dig deep into your very soul with his piercing eyes. He continued.

“You are the darling pearl of the sea. Your wisdom equals that of the king. Your subjects adore you, your warriors revere you, and the council already see you as a prospect to rule in the foreseeable future. K'uk'ulkan assigned you to lead your own platoon outside of Talokan for he knows you are ready. Prove to him that you are worthy of the responsibility he entrusted you with, just like how I had proven to you that I am worthy to be by your side.”

Your breath stuttered as you felt his heart thump in his chest. He chased your hand and held it tightly, as if to tell you that his heart only beats for you. That it would bleed and cease and skip only for your majesty.

What such blessing fell into your hands, you wonder, to grace you with the magnificence of a man such as Attuma?

“...How did I ever become so fortunate to have been given a lover such as you?”

“I am hardly worthy, in princesa. I should be the one to ask that of you,” Attuma tightened his hold, “and I have not become your lover just yet—not when I have yet to prove myself to K'uk'ulkan.”

“Forget what my father thinks, Attuma,” you brushed away strands of wet hair that stuck to his face and gazed lovingly into his eyes, “you have proven more than enough to me that you are worthy to be by my side. He is simply stubborn.”

He scoffed as if he was amused.

“And rightfully so. No one should be able to win your hand without great deliberation.”

“And yet here you are.” You cheekily cooed. His chest rumbled as he chuckled merrily.

“I have not officially won your hand yet.”

You brought his hand to your lips and kissed the knuckles that were littered with scars from his battles.

“Hush now. You have won my hand the moment you have made your vow. I simply cannot think of anyone else to love this much other than you,” Attuma's heart blossomed with pride and adoration as you continued, “and you would make a great king someday. You are perfect.”

“That is for K'uk'ulkan to decide.” You gave him a pointed look.

“That is for me to decide. I will not allow anyone to sit on that throne unless it was you, in yakunaj.”

What such bliss does Attuma feel, you wonder, as soon as you witness his very being light up with such love for you as he hears those words come out of your mouth?

What such contentment did you bring him for the warrior you so loved to laugh in earnest for the joys that you had given him?

Under the witness of the full moon, free of the prying eyes of both land and sea, Attuma grabbed you by the waist and plunged into the shallows of the reef, his mask now discarded with such haste, and his hands tracing your features with such tender adulation that made your heart soar into the heavens.

You were a sight to behold—a goddess, that you were. Basked in beaming light of the late night, fractals of lustrous gems dancing across your skin, and oh, what to say about your twinkling eyes that the stars of the Atlantic would pale in comparison to?

“I love you.”

And with those words of pure ardor, Attuma planted his lips on yours.

And you love him too, you wanted the words to fall in pure ecstasy. But you settled with wrapping your arms around his neck and deepening the kiss.

For your lips were enough to tell him all he needed to know.

The sea was quiet, darkness surrounding you and your platoon as you watched two surface dwellers probe with the machine that connected itself with the veins of vibranium that throbbed on the seafloor. It wasn't much, barely a morsel compared to Talokan's own mines, but in the wrong hands it would cause catastrophic damage.

You resisted the urge to call off the attack—they were still living beings, ones that have family, friends, even lovers. But you gritted your teeth and strengthened your resolve. There was no time for mercy when your nation was so close to its discovery.

“Attuma. Namora.” You called out. They nodded and stood in attention, spears ready and poised.

“Yes, princess.” They replied. You nodded, satisfied with their attentiveness.

“Leave one alive. The man. Father needs information.”

You turned to the platoon under your command, all women whose voice exceeded anyone else's. Their voices reigned supreme in every aspect, their enchanting melodies the testament to the many legends surface dwellers passed on to their kin as bedtime stories.

And you were their leader, the forefront to the hymns of your people.

Attuma resisted the urge to follow after you as you swam forward under the guise of the inky depths. As if sensing the imminent danger the divers are under, they looked around in haste, their nerves up high. He positioned his spear to attack when needed—he was not going to let you get hurt.

You focused your gaze on the man, his eyes flickering with fear. He talked into his comms in panic, his mission now long abandoned as his adrenaline peaked.

And then you started to hum.

It was an enthralling sound, one that your father had taught you when you were younger. It would lead surface dwellers into your arms, charmed by the promises that lay in each note. One of the divers looked around, trying to find the voice that called out to him so warmly—like a mother would to her children.

And you swam forward, just in the line of his sight and away from his partner's eyes, and beckoned him forward with a smile.

“Come to me, child. Come to me.”

Dazed and enamored, he took a step forward. He could not hear the calls of his superiors nor the worried cries of his crewmate. He just had to sink into your arms; mission be damned.

With a speed comparable to the fastest of missiles, you cut the cord that connected him to the surface and dragged him away into the inky depths. You made sure to give the diver a charming smile before you smashed his helmet open—cutting any sort of communication that he previously had—and replaced his supply of air with the mask your people used.

“Breathe, child. You may close your eyes and dream.”

Warriors came to take the surface dweller away upon Namora's instructions. You felt Attuma's hand on your shoulder, his lips landing on your cheek so tenderly.

“You have done well, my love.” He whispered. You gave him a grateful smile before turning to Namora.

“You may do as you wish with the other surface dweller. K'uk'ulkan has no use for them.”

Namora nodded and did her bidding with the other diver, beckoning her squad to wreck the machine as she stabbed the surface dweller and dragged them into the depths of the ruthless ocean.

You could only look away.

“Sisters,” you turned to your platoon and held your spear up high, “it is time. Let the surface dwellers hear the hymns of our people and guide them into the sea. There shall be no mercy for them.”

Attuma joined you as your group ascended to the surface, his hand holding on to your own tightly. You knew he was to rejoin his ranks, so you savored his comfort a little while longer as you started the first notes of your siren's song.

With one last squeeze to his hand, you used your feathered ankles to finally surface in full.

Attuma could not hold back the awe from his face—you were ethereal in every way, ascending into the air like a deity of the sea. The jewels that adorned your body glistened under the artificial lights of the ocean rig, your hands extended out to call forth the charmed souls into your waiting arms.

An enchantress.

Your group of singers eventually followed your melodies, the haunting tunes now taking full effect. Not even a few seconds later, splashes reverberated from the sides of the rig, all reaching out to you and clawing at the air in hopes to get to you; to touch you, to worship you.

Their last sights were that of a goddess, an angel, their deliverance. You had smiled upon them with pity as you sang the hymns of your people.

How these woeful souls longed to even touch your feet and kiss it in full before they succumbed to the frigid waters and met their demise

Their ends were silent. They showed no signs of struggle and surrendered to the arms of sweet death.

At least you had given them sympathy in their last breaths, even if it was in the influence of your hypnotic voice.

But you knew it was just an excuse to justify your guilt.

You closed your eyes as soon as you heard the gunshots from the rig, the company under your father's command now boarding the infrastructure and attacking any leftover surface dwellers that remained. You slowly descended into the water and dove into the awaiting arms of Attuma, your breath hitching as you calmed your racing heart.

“I am still weak.” You whispered, the songs of your people drowning your own voice. But Attuma still heard.

“It is okay, my love,” he caressed your back and placed a kiss on your forehead, “you have done your part beautifully.”

“Must there be death in every battle? In every war?” The answer was obvious, but Attuma still took the time to humor you.

“It is inevitable.”

Following your successful attack on the facility, you had coaxed your surface dwelling captive to tell you everything about the machine they had used to find the smallest hint of vibranium in the Pacific. You had used your voice to allure him into your bidding, and with a simple caress to his cheek and hypnotizing hum against his ear, he had submitted to you and forgot his loyalties.

When the surface dweller finally cracked under your fake attention, there you found the information of the young female scientist who created the whole machine.

Attuma wasn't so happy that you had to use such tactics, but it was the most effective. You made sure that he watched the whole exchange to ease his mind—but it only ended up with you being pinned to the wall and being winded by his lips.

It was to claim you, he insisted. He will allow no man to receive the feathered touches that you gave him, to hum against their ear with your allure whilst he watched.

Your dear warrior was just possessive, you thought in amusement.

Your father was satisfied with your findings. It was added to his already growing pride for your successful first mission away from Talokan. K'uk'ulkan was sure that the kingdom will be left in good hands once he passes his title to you.

And your heart swelled when your father praised you for your exploits and gave you access to explore beyond the reefs of the surface—you were now free to fly wherever you wished so long as you were careful (and of you will be careful. You didn't want this opportunity taken away from you).

Your father had taken it upon himself to go to Wakanda and demanded their queen mother for the scientist. He had deployed his soldiers (including Namora and Attuma) to be wary of the movements of the princess and her warrior aide, the Dora Milaje's general.

“I want to fight that warrior. The female general.” He told you as soon as he came back, his arms wrapping around your waist as he buried his face on your shoulder from behind. You cocked a curious brow.

“Oh? Pray tell, do you fancy them?” He huffed.

“Not as much as I fancy you, my love,” he peppered kisses on the jewelry upon your skin, “I simply admire their skill as a warrior—but you far outshine them in every aspect.”

“Ever the charmer I see.” You laughed. He grabbed your hips to turn and face him and pressed himself closer, your arms wrapping themselves around his neck.

He smirked.

“For you? I’ll always be.”

After they had fought near the waters of the Western surface dwellers, Namora and Attuma had brought home the princess of Wakanda and the scientist that you had sought out for their brilliant minds.

Only, you did not expect the scientist to be a child.

Your father had gone to talk to Shuri, a diplomatic way of coaxing her into a more peaceful negotiation, you gathered. You were left to sit on your throne and rule in your father's stead.

“What is on your mind, in yakunaj?” Attuma asked beside you. You sighed and fiddled with your grandmother's bracelet, the jade from the jewelry shining brightly under the underwater sun.

“Nothing, really. I was just hoping that the talks would go well. There's no reason for this to escalate further than it should.” You urged Attuma to stand closer to you.

He did so without question.

When he finally placed himself by the seat of your throne, you leaned your head against his waist and just surrendered yourself to the safety of his presence. He held you closer to his side, his hands now drawing comforting circles on your shoulders as you overlooked your kingdom.

From the corner of your eye you could see your father talking to Princess Shuri, her being clothed in a suit that could protect her from the pressures underwater.

You watched them attentively.

“Do you think father will allow me to talk to her?” The hands that drew circles around your shoulder ceased.

“There will be no such thing,” he chided, “what if she will hurt you?”

“Do you really think a lone surface dweller, of all things, is enough to hurt me?” You joked lightheartedly. But Attuma did not take it well.

“I promised you that no surface dweller shall ever rest their eyes on you without meeting their death. That will not change now.” Your heart pounded against your chest at your lover's protectiveness. But you just needed to find a way to convince him somehow.

“Maybe I can help my father with the negotiations. From where it stands, I doubt the Wakandan princess will even agree to father's terms.” You tore your eyes away from the Princess of Wakanda and your father as they swam away. Your eyes furrowed when you saw the downcasted look on K'uk'ulkan's face—you took note to approach him about it later.

“A foolish decision, truly.”

“And I understand her sentiments,” Attuma looked at you in question, his head cocking to the side. You continued, “that scientist is merely a child. People stole her inventions and took credit for themselves while she received our ire. And to declare war on the surface…even I could not fathom such scale.”

“The surface dwellers' shortcomings come from their own negligence. If they were to be more careful—”

“I do not wish to kill the scientist, Attuma, nor do I wish for war.”

He paused, the only sound from the throne room were the hums of the vibranium sun and the slow moving currents from the tide. You looked up to him as he shifted ever so slightly, the grip on your shoulder only tightening.

And after a few beats of silence, he asked.

“Why?”

Why indeed, you wondered.

You were sure you were prepared for war. You were sure you were ready to fight for your nation and reclaim the land that you rightfully owned.

But something was holding you back.

“I do not wish for violence. And I pity her, that is all. She is a child whose work was stolen and discredited for. Her mind is great, but she is unaware of the damages she would have caused. And…and I do not wish for more deaths, especially one that is as young as her.” You glanced at your hands—the hands that held blood of countless surface-dwellers. A necessary sacrifice, but it did not mean it felt right.

“Your mercy is worthy of praise, my love. But one wrong move will lead to our discovery. It will lead to war. One surface dweller's life for the life of your kingdom—those are the options you have to choose from.”

He swam in front of you and knelt before your feet, his headpiece now lay discarded beside him as he rested his head on your lap. You wove your fingers through his dark tresses; they were soft as silk.

“Is there no other way?” You asked him. He trailed his fingers up your lap and took hold of your hands, his lips lazily kissing your knuckles.

“Perhaps not. But the king sees this as the best course of action. Believe in his plans; believe in your father.”

Your head dove down into deep thought, your hands mindlessly playing with Attuma's long hair. He leaned into your touch as you massaged his scalp, the delightful rumble from his chest giving you enough motivation to continue.

“...If that is what you think, then I shall listen.” He peered up to you with those fierce eyes that only softened for you.

“And what have you chosen?”

You swallowed the lump on your throat, the decision weighing heavily on your shoulders.

“I choose to trust you and my father. It might be against my heart, but if it is for Talokan, if war is necessary for our people, then it shall be done.”

He slowly rose and took your cheeks into his hands, his forehead now pressing against yours. In those moments did you relish the assurances from his touches, his thumbs unraveling the lines of worry from your troubled brow.

“There is no need for you to spill blood. You only need to give the order and I will do it for you. This is why I am here; it is my purpose.”

You shook your head and placed a chaste kiss on the side of his lips. He chased you as you retreated, your hands now finding purchase on his strong jaw.

“Thank you, Attuma. But I need to do this on my own.” He snapped his eyes to yours indignantly.

“In princesa—”

“I can't keep depending on you, my love. I want to become a better partner for you, to become strong and protect you as well. What kind of a queen would I be if I can't protect my future king?”

Attuma felt a thousand sparks lifting him up to the heavens as you said so. You were strong, stronger than you would admit to yourself. But you always doubted yourself; doubted your abilities, your choices, your authority.

But now, he was honored to witness the paradigm shift of your conviction. It was like the embers he had heard stories of in his time on water—where it was hotter than the vibranium sun that shone, more persistent and brighter than the light from the luminescent algae of your father's hut, and it burned so elegantly while still maintaining its power.

You were beautiful. Strong.

How could he ever say no to you?

“Then let me have the honor to witness your first steps of your will. I want to see you shine, my love. My queen.”

You laughed and drew him closer to you, his body now suspended into the water until his eyes were level with yours, and his lips now mere inches away from you. His arms trapped you in your throne—but you were more willing to submit to him and held prisoner to his affections if it meant you'd spend a lifetime in his arms.

“I am not queen yet.”

He smirked, his leg snaking between yours; anything to be closer to you.

“In my heart, you already are.”

Your father called Attuma and Namora to join him to meet Queen Romanda. You had assured him that you will be alright, that meeting with the Wakandan princess will not harm you in any way. You already had K’uk’ulkan’s permission to talk to the surface dwellers—he trusted that you could protect yourself whenever the need arises (not that you needed much protection. They could not even put a scratch on you even if they tried).

“Be careful,” Attuma told you as he caressed your cheek, his mask covering the purse of his lips as he tucked a strand of your hair behind your pointed ears, “I will not be there to protect you when anything happens.”

“You worry too much, my love. I’ll simply talk to the princess, nothing more.” You cupped his strong jaw and placed a lingering kiss to his cheek.

You heard the sound of splashing beside you, your father and Namora now ready to dive into the water to meet with the Queen of Wakanda. You stepped back and bowed your head low to your king and generals.

“Please return safely.” K’uk’ulkan gave you a nod.

“We will.”

And before Attuma could even hug you goodbye in front of your father, Namora dragged him by the back of his spiked armor and plunged deep into the water. You couldn’t help but laugh when Attuma huffed indignantly, but he obeyed Namora nonetheless.

You took your time to change into far less intimidating garb—one that is free of your armor and only left jewels around your neck, ears, and wrists to show your authority. Beautiful articles of your traditional clothing wrapped you in the finest material that your people could provide. Only the best for their princess, they always told you, wrapped in jades, gold, and pearls.

You brought a basket full of corn and fresh fruits from the surface to offer your visitors something to eat whilst you spoke with them, waving to some of the nearby guards who stood in attention around the frightened women. Their hushed whispers soon come to a halt when they finally see you enter the caves they were held in, the warriors and the attending maid present all bowing their heads in respect.

“Be at ease.” You called out to them. Although your people understood and resumed their positions, the surface dwellers cocked their heads in confusion. You cleared your throat.

“I am not here to harm you.” You spoke in a tongue they would most likely understand. They straightened up and watched you cautiously.

“You speak English.” The Wakandan princess, Shuri, said. You nodded.

“English…yes, that is what you call this language,” you slowly set your basket down and gave them a smile, “I have always been fascinated with the way surface dwellers speak amongst each other. It is diverse.”

“You and Namor are related.” Princess Shuri put the scientist behind her and tried to put as much distance as she could between you. Both their eyes shifted to your pointed ears and the wings upon your ankles that fluttered as it landed on them. The girl, Riri, could only look at you warily.

“Fear not. I swear I bring no harm to you nor your people. And I apologize for not introducing myself,” you bowed your head and stepped back. You wanted to know that you were not a threat, that you could be trusted. You told them your name first, the surface dwellers testing the way it rolled on their tongue. You continued, “my people call me many names, but you are free to choose which name makes you comfortable. Or you can address me by my titles.”

“And your titles are?”

“Radiant Pearl of the Sea, Child of the Feathered Serpent God. Or if you'd prefer princesa, or princess, in your language,” you heard their breaths hitch as you continued, “beloved daughter of Talokan’s king, K’uk’ulkan.”

“So like, what, you’re royalty?” Riri suddenly asked. The bluntness of her question elicited a chuckle from you. It was light, almost enchanting. They couldn’t help but loosen up in your presence.

“I suppose so, yes. But I treat my people as my brothers and sisters. And while you are a visitor to our home, I will treat you the same.”

“And why have you come?” Shuri asked you, her guard still noticeably up. You walked closer to her slowly, your steps deliberate and unthreatening.

“I have heard how you had rejected my father’s proposal. You wish not to make an alliance for war, nor do you wish to give up this child’s life in exchange for Wakanda’s safety.” Shuri’s eyes hardened.

“Either option is out of the question.”

“And I agree with you, Princess Shuri.” Both of their eyes widened in surprise.

“Then—”

“I am not finished,” you put your hand up to silence them. They immediately did so. Riri shrunk down at the sheer power of your words, but Shuri managed to hold her head up high. You sighed, “both choices require sacrifice. Both have consequences. We are both heirs to our kingdoms; we are the same, you and I. Surely you should know this much.”

Shuri’s jaw tightened. You could see her body tense, and her eyes burned with such hatred that were reminiscent of your father’s own fury. You held your chin up high and held your ground.

“And I do not accept such terms! If you claim to agree that such choices are madness, then why have you not said anything?”

You straightened yourself and pursed your lips together.

“Because my feelings do not matter when it comes to the betterment of my kingdom. I act upon what is necessary, not what is wanted.” Your heart lurched as you said those words, but you knew it had to be said.

Your response had left both of them shell-shocked, at least, how could you say that your feelings don’t matter with such a straight face? And follow it up with a formal smile, no less.

You turned to the scientist and offered her a sympathetic look. “Your mind is brilliant, child. I cannot deny that. But your surface-dwelling companions have left you to receive the ire of our nation. I do not wish to kill you, nor do I want to wage war. But if you pose a threat to my people then I will not hesitate to end your life.”

Shuri hid Riri behind her and regarded you with a frown. “Then we are not the same, princess.”

You sighed.

You knew the Wakandan princess would not yield to your words so easily. But there was a hope inside of you that she would understand your words, especially when you and her share the same responsibilities as heir (even if the role was forced upon her after the death of her king brother).

“Your spirit is strong, Princess Shuri. I admire that about you,” you walked forward and untied the bracelet from your wrist—the same bracelet that your grandmother once owned before she passed it onto your father, “but I must abide by my father’s will. I only hope that you understand his intentions; he only wishes the best for his people, even if it means he needs to force his hand into violence.”

You gently grabbed her hand and watched her carefully as you lifted it up. She did not do anything to stop you, nor did the scientist who now watched you in curiosity (her eyes were now rid of fear, which you were glad about). You saw this as a signal to continue, to wrap your grandmother’s bracelet on her wrist and secure it tightly.

“What is this?” She asked you quietly while admiring the jade on the jewelry. You smiled.

“An apology, of sorts, for how my warriors and my father had treated you these past few hours. It was my grandmother’s. My father gave it to me as a reminder of our roots,” you caressed the back of her hand with your thumb, the jewels on the bracelet making you smile, “he had seen…many things throughout his life. Things that even I could not comprehend. He protected us all these years and kept us hidden from evil doers and conquistadors of the surface world. He had set aside his own desires to put our people first. All he has done is for the benefit of our nation—of our Talokan...”

You stepped back and rubbed your bare wrist. It felt odd that your hand was empty of the bracelet that you always wore, but it felt right to give it to her.

“I only wish that you reconsider my father’s offer, perhaps reach a compromise. Before he is a man—before he is my father—he is a king. He made sacrifices for our kingdom, and this one is no different. I’m sure you have seen what we are set to protect.”

For the first time you had seen the princess of Wakanda, she smiled. It was small, barely even there, but it settled the unease that you felt in your heart.

“...I will try. But I cannot guarantee anything.” She told you. Riri finally eased up when your face broke into a delightful grin—one of genuine joy.

Hope blossomed in your chest. Maybe things will be different. Maybe you can avoid the dreaded bloodshed once the Wakandan princess and your father find a compromise.

“That much is enough for me. Thank you—”

“Princesa!”

Just as you were about to turn to your soldier, a stinging pain lodged itself into your abdomen and drew blood. The sheer power sent you flying to the ground, the wings on your ankles trying their best to steady yourself before you fell. You did so with little success, your back now pressed against the damp stone of the alcoves and dyeing it in an eerie scarlet.

Your eyes caught sight of the lifeless forms of your soldiers just behind the rocks, your heart aching at the glimpse of your unmoving brothers and sisters.

An unpleasant rage filled you to the brim, all the stories that your father had told you surfacing into the forefront of your mind.

They were your brothers, your sisters. They stood by you and protected you, always helped you improve the ways of your spear, always teased you when Attuma was near, always the people that you looked upon with favor as your loyal subjects to rule one day.

And now you didn't even know if they were breathing.

The attending maid yelled out your name just as the intruder shot your guard. It filled you with an unfathomable anger. Despite your wound, you found the strength to stand straight and glare at the woman with all the hate that your forefathers bore for the surface world.

A surface dweller dared hurt your people.

“You dare shoot me and my kin?” You asked in your mother tongue. The intruder, a woman in a green and gold diving suit with Wakandan patterns, gaped at the sight of you, her gun still poised.

That shot should have killed you at that distance!

“In princesa!” The attending maid lunged at Shuri and brandished a knife to her neck. You groaned as you put your hand up to the intruder in warning, your other hand pressing against your wound.

You were proud of your people's initiative—such a feat must be rewarded later, you thought.

“You wouldn't want your princess to be hurt now, would you?” You asked the intruder, your whole body seething in fury. She diverted her weapon's attention to your attending maid, her finger so dangerously close to the trigger.

“Drop the weapon and I won’t have to kill you.” She threatened her in your mother tongue. You narrowed your eyes and used your wings to slowly ascend into the air, the wrath that you felt bubbling in the pits of your spirit now overflowing in waves.

Was this the hate that your father had felt all those centuries ago?

You felt the hope that settled into your heart slowly crumble into nothing but pure repugnance.

“You do not speak to my people that way.”

You lunged at her at such a speed that left her gasping as soon as she had witnessed it. You were considerably slower, the wound from your abdomen weighing you down like lead. You ignored the pain and the spurts of blood even as the intruder ducked out of the way just in time to dodge your attacks.

You propelled yourself to twist mid-air, your feet hitting the stalactites on the ceiling and using it to kick yourself forward and into the back of your enemy. You drew your fist back, her body practically open to your strikes—

“Stop! Don’t hurt her!” You heard Shuri yell. In a moment of hesitance did you slow your ascent and shift yourself to the side, your fist now creating a well-sized crater on the stalagmite just beside the Wakandan intruder as you landed.

And in that instant of panic—where your back was turned to her—she shot you again at the back, just barely missing your spine.

You cried out in pain, the stinging sensation pulsing through you tenfold. Whatever hit you had slowed down your enhanced regeneration. In the haze of your thoughts did you hear your attending maid wail and drop her weapon. You felt cold hands cradle your face, shook with great distress, and pressed down your wounds as you heaved in great gulps of air.

“Princess!" You heard someone call out your name—your real name. It was slow, almost echoey, lost in a chasm that was your own dwindling consciousness.

You were getting more and more tired.

“Sister,” you called out to nothing, your hands trying to find something, anything, to hold. You felt cold hands finding purchase on your own, grasping you so tightly that it felt almost painful if it weren’t for the existing pain on your back and abdomen, “are you safe? And—and the o-others…”

“You mustn't speak! In princesa, please, save your strength. K’uk’ulkan will come—the General will come! Until then, you must hold on and heal!”

You could feel it; your consciousness fading, the darkness that beckoned you forth. You could also feel your body heal. A pitiful attempt, really, but it was something to hold onto whilst you tried to battle life and death.

You dangled in the edge of a precipice, desperately grasping what little strings of your life you had left.

You knew you should be worried about something else, but you could not remember what it was. A person, a princess, maybe, who had escaped under your watch. Or has she been captured again? What of the scientist; that brilliant child who you only got the chance to see smile? How did the intruder get in whilst you were present, to shoot you when your guard was down?

How disappointed would your father be, you wonder.

In such a shroud of your uncertainties did you only have one thought, only one name that continued to echo through the abyss that was sweet slumber. He was your only saving grace, the only man who would ever put your mind to rest.

You wondered if he would chide you for being careless, gently knocking on your head teasingly while you try to slap his bicep with a pout. You longed to see that insufferable smirk of his whenever he won a petty argument, how you longed for him to kneel before you and swear his oath again and again. You craved for the adrenaline you always got while sparring him, that sweet joy of winning and losing by his hand.

You missed him, truly, even when you had only parted for a few hours.

“Attuma…”

You wondered if it was the delusions of near death that prompted you to conjure the image of your beloved above you, the feeling of his touch far, far away from your skin as he cradled you closely. Was it the heavens that took pity on you? To have summoned the image of your darling warrior whose tears cascaded down his cheeks whilst you chased the last beats of your heart?

You must have gone mad at this moment—for his lips felt so close to you, his scent almost wrapping you in an embrace, and his fingers held the back of your neck as he spoke to you in great panic. But you were far too gone to make sense of them. You were far too deep into the darkness of sleep to hear his promises, his apologies, his weakness.

And maybe you were crazy enough to believe that he was there.

“In princesa!” You heard him through the fog of your mind. You managed to crack a shaky smile.

“What—” your body jerked up at the pain, his hands steadying you as you heaved a great intake of breath, “w-what troubles you, my love?”

You felt his forehead press against yours, the tremors of his hands going unnoticed as you still writhed from the pain. You felt salves and cold medicine being applied to your wounds—but you did not care at that moment, not when Attuma kept you afloat through the darkness that danced through your vision.

“Who did this to you?” He growled. His eyes were dark, almost murderous. You felt his anger, his rage, the pure unbridled hunger for vengeance.

“Are you really here?” You asked him, your hand now trying to chase the saltine crystals of his misery. You had to make sure that he was truly here; holding you, speaking to you, crying with you. He took his hand in yours and leaned his cheek into your palm. You could feel him—he was real. He was really here.

His first question was lost as he pressed himself closer to you, careful not to disrupt your wounds. Your vision glossed over, the blankets of darkness now taking hold of you, but you tried and tried to push them away. Anything to see him, anything to burn his very image to your memory before you closed your eyes.

“I am here. I—I am here, my love,” he pressed his masked lips on your forehead and rocked you back and forth, “whoever did this will pay.”

“I was—I was wrong to believe in them. I was wrong to…t-to hold on such hope,” you felt his tears mix with your own, the pictures of your soldier’s unoving forms flashing through your minds’ eye. You hoped they were okay. You hoped that they would still be able to open their eyes and see the kingdom under your reign, “they hurt them, Attuma. They hurt my people.”

“And they will pay with their life for their sins threefold.” His anger was apparent again. If you were his enemy, you were sure you were to be buried deep into the earth with his spear plunged into your heart. But his anger calmed you; it was an assurance that your people’s sacrifices would be paid in full.

“Are they—?” You choked out a sob. Attuma shook his head.

“Your soldiers have been caught off guard, but they are fine. They are recovering, my love. And as should you.”

You felt yourself slip into the darkness for a short while as you relaxed. Your people were safe. They did not perish like you had feared they had.

That was enough for you.

“Stay awake, in princesa! Stay awake!” You felt Attuma shake you, the feeling of his warm hands now drifting farther and farther away. Your wounds that throbbed suddenly numbed, and your world spun so fast that you eventually felt nausea kick in.

“Attuma,” you called out, your senses fading in and out. You could feel him any longer, you could not even feel his anger, his love, his worries. You called out to him again, “Attuma…in yakunaj…”

“Stay strong. Save your strength, please. The healers will come for you. For now you should—!”

“Burn them.”

There was a pause, a vacuum of undisturbed silence.

And then you heard him ask.

“What?”

Your breath stuttered. Your voice was raw; harsh. Unforgiving.

“They hurt my people. They hurt my brothers and my sisters. They—they gave me hope…”

You felt yourself finally fall into the abyss of your thoughts. It was raging like a hurricane and beat you with the waves of your feelings of betrayal. Treacherous fools who had so dared to harm you, the princess who holds authority over the seas, who so dared strike down your people in your presence, who so dared force your hand to violence for they had so proven that they are willing to strike you down when you were nothing but understanding to their strifes.

And you continued.

“No one dares enter Talokan, strike down my people, and flee unscathed. This—this is an order, Attuma. Burn them all and let them feel the wrath of Talokan.”

Attuma held you in his arms, all the weight of his rage now pulling him down to the depths of the earth as you finally closed your eyes. The attending maid wailed for their princess to stay strong, for you to keep fighting despite your weakening self.

No one could ever match the beauty you possessed despite the scars from your battle and the blood that smeared the gold of your skin. He wondered how much of his wrath would have shook the earth if he didn’t have you in his arms right now; how much blood would have been spilled, both from the enemy and his allies, if your cold hands did not hold him right now? How much destruction would he have caused for this grief if you had not smiled at him when you closed your eyes and given him the orders that he had to fulfill?

“They will pay,” he found himself gritting his teeth, his jaw tightening, and his body trembling with searing hot fury, “the surface dwellers, the scientist, the whole of Wakanda…they will pay.”

He gently wound his arms beneath your legs and hoisted you up, his masked lips kissing your cheek as he let your head rest on the dip of his shoulder. Your breathing was shallow—just barely there. You were in dire need of a healer.

He heard the frantic splashes of water from the pools leading to the great city. K’uk’ulkan and Namora emerged from the water, and before they could ask why Attuma had swam off in such a hurry, their eyes widened in horror at the sight of you; bloodied and near death in the arms of your lover whilst your attending maid wailed behind you.

“What happened?” Attuma could practically feel his king’s fury. He pushed forward in long strides and shakily caressed your cold cheek, wiping the blood that was smeared on your lip. “Which fool would dare harm my daughter?”

“T-the Wakandans, my king,” your attending maid answered for Attuma, her head bowing in fear at the angered visage of the feathered serpent god. She collected herself and dared not to quiver in his presence, “an intruder struck down the guards and shot the princess twice. They have escaped with the princess of Wakanda and the scientist.”

The room felt heavier now, the ire of the feathered serpent god now shaking the sea with an unsatiated itch for vengeance. He pressed a kiss to the side of your head, the grip of his spear tightening, and his eyes darkened viciously.

“Namora.” He called out. Namora’s jaw clenched as she hit her spear on the rocks, shockwaves reverberating from the vibranium on her weapon. She will never forgive the surface dwellers for what they have done. She will make sure that every blood spilled will be in honor of your name.

“In ajawo.” She acknowledged. K’uk’ulkan turned to her, his bloodlust apparent to all his people to see.

“Gather all our warriors,” he declared, his voice low and deadly, “Wakanda has waged war.”

Attuma reluctantly handed you to K’uk’ulkan upon his command and lingered his hand on your cheek. The king submerged you down the depths in haste, his godlike speed the only way to bring you to the healers as fast as they could.

Namora and Attuma were left in a deafening silence. It was heavy, almost suffocating.

“We will burn the surface world for their crimes against the princess,” Attuma finally said, kicking his spear up and catching it mid air. He pounded it against the floor, cracks and craters now left in the aftermath of his anger, “they will know suffering. They will know pain.”

“Of course,” Namora’s eyes narrowed as she slowly stepped into the shallows, “our people will be ready to avenge her.”

Attuma’s mind flashed to the image of you; your body all bloodied, your hands desperately trying to find him, the way your eyes did not focus on him as if you could not see him crying for you.

You clung to every bit of hope that you might just avoid war. You were clawing at the loose ends of an alliance without the need for bloodshed. But the surface dwellers shot you down despite your mercy. Despite your kindness.

Attuma wondered if he were to be blamed—he should have been more stern with his counsel. He should have told you that there was no mercy to beget on the battlefield. He should have joined you to converse with the surface dwellers and protected you when you were attacked.

He had broken his vow. He did not serve as the shield who would lay its life for you in your times of need. He was not there to keep you safe.

But by your orders, he would gladly become your spear.

“The surface world will know the wrath of Talokan…” he growled, the hate he once bore for the surface now intensifying a hundredfold. Namora could only watch as he swung his spear at the stalagmites and broke the rocks clean in half, his voice now echoing through the land and the sea with a ferocity of a man who had lost their world.

Attuma will burn the world down and show the ashes of their bones in a jaden chest for he was your warrior that took oath upon your throne.

He will dye the sea red with the blood of your enemies for he was the spear that was to be used by your whim. By your beck and call.

He will serve you until his last breath and follow your will to the ends of the earth for he was your beloved to whom would love you without fear.

And he will die for you for his life mattered not when you lie by the feet of your deathbed from his own negligence as your guard. As your lover.

“... for the crimes they have committed against the future queen of Talokan, they will perish by my hand. They will burn down in the name of retribution.”

He looked down at his hands that were still stained with your blood and clenched it into a fist. Attuma hardened his jaw and growled.

“This is an order from the princess.”

Whoops >:))

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