Chapter Text
Once there was a princess who was doubly rejected– first by her parents, then by the land she once called home.
For most days of the year, she only had her son for company. Her son, cursed also to breathe water alongside her but also blessed to be able to breathe the air she had once breathed without thinking.
When he was born against all odds, she named him Ch’ah Toh Almehen, to spite her parents and people who believed that she was no longer royalty. Her son was born with wings on his ankles and pointed ears, and she loved him all the same.
But she could not deny how lonesome it was, living in the deepest lake of the most mysterious part of the wilderness that surrounded her former home. That there were times she missed her previous life, pampered and overprotected yet still able to enjoy all that came with living on the land.
What eased the pain were the last five days of each year. For those five days, she could walk on land and breathe the air as she once had before. She cherished those days almost more than she cherished her own son.
For thirty years, she lived this way. For thirty years, she found it harder and harder to be content.
Until one day, during her days on land, she was approached by a messenger from her parents. Toh needed her, they said. Her bloodline, blessed by the gods, was in danger of extinguishing like a flame doused by rain. Their only chance was for her to marry a noble from another kingdom and become queen. They had found a way for the gods to make it so she never had to return to the water again.
All the gods asked for in return was the offering of her son’s wings.
The screams of the crowd were dim in comparison to Queen Fen’s sobs. Wild and loud and wailing, she collapsed on the ground before her throne and beat her fists onto the dais. It took several handmaidens to soothe her to mere sniffles. Her husband looked at her in disgust, then away.
The king and queen of Wakanda issued orders to several of their personal guard, warrior women called the Dora Milaje, to search for this Namor and bring him back for justice. Queen Ramonda still held baby Namora tightly to her. The baby herself merely stared into the crowd and made not a single sound.
The boy who had sat at the table where Namor feasted now rose to approach the dais. The king’s guards made to block his approach.
“Let him through, King of Toh,” said King T’Chaka. “This is my son, T’Challa.”
“Your son, T’Chaka?” The king of Toh looked dubious. “Why does he not sit with you in the place of honor?”
“I am currently training to be a griot, King of Toh.” T’Challa answered. His voice held the fresh depth of a newly grown man. “As such, I am not privy to all the privileges of royalty, though I am honored to be in attendance today.”
The king of Toh was silent. Then he waved his guards away. T’Challa bowed before both the king and queen of Toh. The queen of Toh merely stared at him through her tears, her back trembling from the lingering effect of her sobs.
Then T’Challa moved towards Queen Ramonda and reached for the babe on her hip. Queen Ramonda looked hesitant, but she did not protest as he held baby Namora. T’Challa bounced her slightly, and for the first time that day the baby smiled.
“Your child is beautiful, Queen Fen,” said T’Challa. “I am sorry for what has happened today.”
Queen Fen covered her mouth with her hands to hold back another sob.
“By law of the king, Queen Ramonda is my mother,” T’Challa continued. “As her son, I will give Ramonda’s last gift to Namora in her place. My ancestors move me to do this, to ease your pain. My gift is not yet great, but it will help.”
He closed his eyes. A faint purple glow outlined his body. When next T’Challa spoke, it was with the voice of several men and women at once.
“When Namora, daughter of Fen, reaches her sixteenth birthday, she will not drown when she is lost to the waters. She will instead fall into a deep sleep. She will only be awoken by an act of true remorse.”
T’Challa’s eyes opened, revealing only the whites.
“So it shall happen, so it shall be.”
“Was that baby really your sister?”
Shuri and Namor were sitting side by side by the Lake of the Dead. He always liked to return to this lake for some reason that he has yet to tell her. After they made their appearance at that hetzmek ceremony, Namor came here and tossed several rocks into the lake. For a while Shuri merely observed him from the trees, then decided to don her human appearance to sit next to him and maybe see what he was looking at too.
Namor reached for a smooth brown rock and angled his arm to throw it with all the strength he could muster. The rock overshot the lake by several hundred footlengths.
“She was born to my mother, if that’s what you’re asking.” Namor still kept his eyes on the lake. Shuri kept her eyes on him. He did not look so victorious right now, as he did when he uttered that curse. He was thinking on something very deeply, and it looked like it was making him sad.
“I can almost hear your questions, Shuri.” Namor barely moved a muscle. “Ask them if you want the answer.”
Shuri reached out and turned his chin so that he was looking at her. He let her do so, his brow raised. She didn’t just want to hear his answers, she wanted to see them too.
“Why did you place a curse on your sister?” She watched him closely, her hand still holding his chin. “What did she do to make you so upset?”
There was no remorse in Namor’s eyes. Only a complete lack thereof. “She was born to a mother who betrayed me in the worst possible way. Her fate led her to this path.”
“So you hurt her because you wanted to hurt your mother.” Shuri tightened her grip on his chin. Namor didn’t flinch. “Why would you do such a thing? Why didn’t you just only hurt your mother?”
His jaw moved as he smiled. It was an ugly sort of smile, and very human. It was fascinating.
“We all lose everyone we love,” said Namor. “My mother will just lose what she loves sooner. It is the curse she now bears for cursing me .”
How did she curse you? Shuri wanted to ask. But instead she asked, “Are you saying your mother doesn’t love you? Why?”
“Because I’m a monster.” There was now glee in Namor’s eyes. “And I will continue to be a monster as long as the world needs me to be.”
Shuri let go of his chin. Namor didn’t look away.
“Since I’m yours for now, does that make me a monster too?”
“That is your decision, little xtabay .” Namor reached for his scepter, then used it to help himself stand. Once again Shuri noticed the scabbed-over marks on his ankles, as if something was torn out from there with anger and blood.
When Namor reached out a hand for her, she didn’t flinch.
“Come. You will have the next sixteen years to figure it out.”