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acciopietro · 1 year

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doctor pt. 4

pairing: namor x fem! reader

summary: after taking some time to yourself, you allow yourself to understand.

word count: 6,349

tw: mention of death/murder, mention of wounds and blood.

a/n: thanks for hanging in there and being patient with me, everyone. you’re all so so appreciated!!! here’s the final part :)

WEEKS CAME AND WEEKS WENT in Miami until about two months pass. You got up everyone morning, hopped on the train to work, worked until six or seven, took the train home, went to bed. Maybe you’d sprinkle in a work out or a lunch with a friend here and there, but nothing much changed. You hadn’t really spoken to your sister. And the team, well... there was no team, anymore. It was you and Dr. Mishra and Juliette, the secretary. The office was empty. Their empty chairs and cold coffee cups stared at you until you clocked out.

Every night before bed, without fail, you thought about Namor. That look on his face when he was just about ready to kill you. Then the look on his face when he had dropped to his knees, pleading for forgiveness. And then seeing Reynolds and Bernstein fall overboard. You’d squeeze your eyes shut and try and shut it all out until you’d eventually fall back asleep. Despite this, that jade-beaded bracelet never left your wrist.

You woke up in a sweat, your face pale from the horrors your mind had conjured and your skin cold and clammy from your thrashing and shivering. The trauma from the boat seemed to have followed you home to Miami.

The cuts had healed, the bruises, too, but the memories had not left. It was difficult to have Namor plaguing both your thoughts and your nightmares at the same time. There was a dissonance in your head, where in the day you’d dream of running back to that beach in Yucatán, and in the night you’d suffer the sight of him and his soldiers about to kill you.

You reached over towards your bedside table, picking up your phone and rolling over onto your side. There was a recent notification, it’s icon glowing green, that read Voicemail from Juliette. You let out a hmph and clicked it, pressing the speaker button so as to hear better.

“Hey Y/N, hope you’re doin’ okay,” came that sweet, swingy voice of your favorite secretary. “You’re insanely strong for still comin’ into work even after... well, after what happened. I’m calling to tell you to take a week off, all right? There ain’t no team for you to work with, but me and Mishra can hold down the fort for a bit, okay? You rest, visit your sister or something. You’re exerting yourself. Also, I’ve emailed you the number of my therapist. She’s great. Don’t be afraid to give me a call if you need anything, all right? I’ll see you in a week, okay? Don’t come to the office! Bye-bye.”

You huffed to yourself in frustration, slamming your phone down on the bed beside you. Visiting your sister sounded like a great idea, with the exception of being at such close proximity to Namor and his people. There would be no way to avoid the water of course, between your sister and her frequent strolls on the sand and your niece and her addiction to surfing.

Either way, you booked a flight for the next day. The entire flight down to Yucatán you wrestled with yourself, with your morality. Namor had killed people. Probably more in all his years of living, more than what you had witnessed. To forgive him was so forget those he had killed, even if they were horrible people like Bernstein or Reynolds.

But there was something about him that was magnetic. His brain, his loyalty, his pride of where in which he came. The regard to which he held his people, the passion to which he protected them. The way that he spoke, the eloquence of him, the complexity of his thoughts. He was cruel. He was beautiful.

“Oh god, you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” were your sister’s first words upon meeting you at the airport. You lugged your backpack off the plane, offering a weak but genuine smile at the sight of her face and sound of her voice. She hugged you tight, taking your bag from you. Touching a hand to your cheek, turning your face to examine you like your grandmother would, she remarked, “You’re pale as hell. What’d you do, kill somebody?”

You gave a weak chuckle. “I need a coffee.”

“You need more than just a coffee,” she said. “Let’s get you home. And get you a drink.”

The drive to your sister’s house from the airport was pleasant enough, the delicate voice of Lana Del Rey playing from her stereo and the soft morning light shining through the windows of the car. You stared at the horizon, just barely being able to see the blue ocean from where you were. You clenched your jaw and willed yourself to look away.

---

YOUR SISTER DECIDED IT WAS time for you to leave the house. She had dragged you out of bed to put on some nice clothes and then proceeded to pull you by the ear until you reached a local bar. Her husband was watching your niece, leaving the pair of you to your own devices for the night. You sat at the bar next to her, your classic Moscow Mule in your hand, zoning out to the unrecognizable music playing over the speakers.

“Noticia de última hora (Breaking news),” spoke the lady on the news, her formal dress on the small, pixelated television standing out from the high technicolor of the club. “La reina de Wakanda ha sido reportada muerta (The queen of Wakanda has been reported dead).”

Your head snapped up, eyes now glued to the television. Your sister was blissfully unaware, chit-chatting with the barista, who just so happened to be the mother of one of your niece’s girlfriends.

“La cause de la muerte: desconocido (The cause of death: unknown),” the reported continued. You took a large sip of your drink. “Princesa, ahora reina, Shuri aún no ha emitido una declaración. Esperamos ser informados sobre la situación pronto (Princess, now Queen, Shuri has yet to publish a statement. We hope to be informed about the situation soon).”

“That guy keeps looking at you,” your sister suddenly remarked, speaking loudly over the music. You flinched, ripping your eyes away from the television.

“Sorry?”

“That guy,” she lowered her voice and gestured with her chin to the man down the bar. “He’s been checking you out, tryna catch your eye.”

You glanced over to your right; sure enough, there was a man sitting five or six stools down from you, who, at the sight of you turning your head, quickly retracted his gaze.

You eyed him. Based on the sight of him, you estimated he was maybe six foot tall. He had dusty brown curls, with equally as bushy brows and a roman nose. Cute, you thought.

“You should talk to him,” your sister nudged your should. You sighed. You’d feel bad talking too much to this guy when your mind was still occupied on Namor. “C’mon, he keeps looking.”

“I dunno,” you ran a hand across your scalp. “We’ll see.”

“C’monnnn,” your sister dragged out. She picked up her drink and stood up. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom. I’m hoping you’ll be talking to him by the time I get back...”

And with that, she stood up and walked off, disappearing into the crowd. You rolled your eyes. Leave it to your sister to misinterpret your feelings and do something she thought would be good for you but might actually be horrible. You swirled your drink around, watching the vodka splashing against the sides of the class. She had good intentions, your sister, but you didn’t particularly feel like being alone with some--

“Hola,” came a soft-spoken voice from your right. You turned your head; it was the guy from down the bar, his eyes bright and his smile gentle. You blinked. “Uh... anyone sitting here?”

He gestured with his drink to the empty seat beside you. You shook your head no, bringing your cup to your lips to sip it as he sat down beside you. His voice held a slight accent, his voice wavering as if he were unsure whether or not to be speaking English to you as opposed to the Spanish that filled the club.

He twiddled his fingers on the glass of his drink, the condensation of what looked to be a rum and coke wetting his palms. He wiped his hands on a napkin and glanced at you.

“You’re not from here, right? I haven’t seen you,” he spoke, his voice deep and smooth like molasses. There was a charm to him, you had to admit.

“You’d be right,” you told him. “My sister lives here. I’m just visiting from Florida.”

“Ah,” he nodded his head. “My cousin lives in Key West.”

“Bit far from me. I’m from Miami,” you chuckled. His eyes widened. “Three hours from there.”

“Pedro,” he extended a hand. You took it, shaking it gingerly. Pedro smiled.

“Y/N.”

“Was that your sister, who you were just with?”

You nodded your head. “Yeah, she’s just running to the bathroom.”

“I know her,” he gave you a sheepish look. “I teach at the local elementary school. Her daughter’s in my class.”

It was your turn to have wide eyes and a smile. “No way! That’s amazing!”

“She’s a great student,” Pedro told you. “I feel like I can remember her mentioning her Tía once or twice...”

Your sister never quite came back from the bathroom. She shot you a text asking if it was all right for her to go right home, and you told her to do whatever she wanted. You continued to speak with Pedro, the conversation eventually straying from the topic of your niece and onto your work, and eventually onto your recent experience on the mining ship. Apparently, word had gotten out about you being one of the lone survivors.

Pedro offered to go for a walk on the beach to talk some more. Hesitant at first due to the water, you eventually agreed. It wasn’t like Namor was going to pop out of the water and reveal himself to you when someone else was with you. You exited the bar with Pedro after he oh-so-kindly paid for your drink, and with your sandals eventually coming off your feet and into your hands, your stride found the sand.

“That must have been pretty taxing, huh?” Pedro remarked when you told him the tale, leaving out the important detail of Namor and Talokan’s existence. “I can’t imagine going through that. You’re crazy strong.”

“All in a days work, I guess,” you shrugged, dragging your feet through the sand. You stopped, glancing off at the horizon, seeing the occasional tale of a dolphin in the far distance.

“Well, I feel bad for keeping you out too late,” Pedro checked his watch, shuffling in place a bit. “You’re a busy woman, I assume.”

“I am,” you smiled at him. “But it’s okay. Need a break every once in a while, y’know?”

“Damn straight,” Pedro nodded his head, running a hand through his dusty brown hair and glancing off at the horizon. He was standing pretty close to you, you noticed, and you weren’t sure whether or not to step back or not. “It was really great to meet you, Y/N.”

“You as well,” you told him honestly. You could sense him leaning towards you. “You’re a great listener.”

“You’re a great-- erm-- talker,” he said bashfully, covering his eyes for a second after saying that. “That was stupid, sorry.”

“It’s all right,” you chuckled. He laughed as well, his eyes glancing from eye to eye, and then to your lips for a prolonged moment, and then back to your eyes.

You couldn’t tell what you wanted, but even as he loomed closer and closer you figured you had less time to decide. By the time he was barely an inch from you, you figured you’d throw caution to the wind and go with it.

He pressed his lips onto your very gently, like he was nervous to do so, and while it was a great kiss, you almost flinched when you closed your eyes and only saw Namor. His great big ebony eyes, the feeling of the curve of his jaw on your palm, the aquiline slope of his nose. You felt your stomach turn, and you pulled away from him.

“I’m sorry,” you immediately said. Pedro’s eyes furrowed a bit, but he said nothing. “I... you’re really, really sweet, and... a great kisser...”

His lips twitched up in amusement.

“But I’m just not in a good place for this,” you told him honestly. “My last...erm... relationship ended on a weird note, and... I’m just not in the right place to be with anyone else. I didn’t mean to lead you on like this. I thought I’d be ready, but I... I’m really not. I’m sorry.”

“I get it,” Pedro gave a kind smile. “Thanks for being honest with me, at least. Weird note, huh?”

You breathed a chuckle. “Yeah. Super weird, super complicated.”

“I understand,” Pedro nodded his head. He reached into his pocket, grabbing a crumpled receipt from the bar and a small pen. He scribbled something down. “Look, I’m not telling you I’m gonna wait, but... if in a few weeks or so, you feel like you could be up to something, call me. If not, then it was just great to talk to you tonight.”

“You’re so nice,” you said sadly. “I’m sorry. I feel really bad.”

“Don’t,” Pedro insisted, handing you the receipt with his number on it. “Really. Take care of yourself, okay? You need a ride home?”

“No, that’s all right,” you shook your head. “I’m down that way. I’ll walk.”

“All right,” he smiled. “I’ll see you around, okay? I’ll tell your niece I met her legendary Tía.”

Pedro left, the only sign of his presence being the size-ten footprints painting the trail to where he went off to, and the lingering feeling of his lips on yours. You wiped at your mouth, feeling guilty, and squeezed your eyes shut momentarily. You needed to think.

The waves crashed behind you as you walked up to the waters edge, your bare feet pressed into the damp sand. The water didn’t quite run over your toes, rather it teetered right in front of them like it was nervous to touch you. You sighed, strolling along it down the beach towards the rocks, dragging your feet in the sand. Each step you took, the water didn’t touch you; it kept creeping next to your steps, hesitant, apprehensive.

You paused at some point, shifting your gaze onto where the water waited in front of you. Lips curving down, you sat down on the sand, your knees pressed together, and put your hands over your face. You didn’t think you would cry, but when you pulled your hands off, your palms were wet with salty tears. So were your cheeks.

Wiping at your face, the beads of your jade bracelet brushed against your jawline. You stared down at it, the beautiful weave-work, the intricate design on each jade bead. Fiddling with it, you stared off at the dark horizon, the moon’s pale light reflecting off of the sea as you felt more tears run down your face.

What was there to do? Each choice felt wrong; to call him, to forgive him for all he’s done and let him embrace you made you feel guilty. Hugging and kissing the man responsible for too many deaths to count. But leaving-- abandoning him, would crush you too much. It was all too much.

“Oh, hell,” you muttered under your breath, shimmying the jade bracelet off of your wrist and holding it up in front of you. Pursing your lips to choke back any more tears, you wiped at your face before drawing your arm as far back as it could go before launching the bracelet into the ocean.

It soared through the night sky, going surprisingly further than you had imagined, and as you watched it plummet towards the water, your heart clench. What had you done? That had been Namor’s mothers! You shot up to your feet, but before the bracelet had disappeared into the blue, a hand shot up out of the water. You froze.

The golden cuff on the hands wrist glimmered under the moonlight, the jade bracelet trapped under the strong fingers. Slowly, an arm followed the hand, followed by a head right next to it. Namor rose out of the sea, water rolling down his shoulders and chest, his brown hair turned black by the water dripping over his forehead.

Unlike usual, he wasn’t wearing his typically adornments; his neckline was void of the golden chest plate, and aside from the small golden cuffs on his wrists, all he wore was the green shorts he always wore. It was like he had suddenly gotten out of bed and fled to the surface without getting dressed.

You stared at him as he waded through the water towards you, the bracelet still in his hand. His face was downcast, bags under his ebony eyes and a frown on his lips. He walked up until he was right in front of you, your feet on the dry sand and his in the water.

Opening up his palm and staring down at the bracelet that laid there, he sighed and said, “Doctor, I hope you didn’t mean to do that.”

“I didn’t,” you said quietly, so soft he almost didn’t hear you. “Well, I did, but... I didn’t. I didn’t. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry,” Namor told you carefully, his voice steady. You blinked at him, frowning, unsure what to say. He stared at the bracelet for a moment, before holding a free hand out to grab your wrist. His eyes shifted up to you for consent to touch you.

You lifted your hand out, and his calloused hands grabbed onto your wrist to slip the bracelet back over your wrist. You got deja vu to the night you first left him, when he gave you the bracelet in the first place. His hands never left your wrist then, and they didn’t now, simply holding onto it.

“Who... who were you with, just now?” he asked in an attempt to be subtle but failing miserably. You couldn’t help but smile a little. You shook your head.

“No one,” you told him honestly, not meeting his eyes.

“You kissed,” he muttered. You narrowed your eyes.

“So you’ve been watching me?”

Namor rolled his eyes, shaking his head and not meeting your eyes but never verbally denying your statement. His fingers fiddling with the string of the bracelet, not daring to look at your face. The brown-black hair on his head had begun to dry, swooping delicately above his brows.

You glanced down to his cheek, your own brows twitching in confusion. Three long cuts drew down the length of his right cheek. A scar had formed overtop of them, and they looked like they had been cleaned up and stitched real nice, but they were so red that you were sure they still hurt. You lifted a hand, as if to touch his face to examine them, but you dropped your head and leaned back, catching yourself in the act.

“What... what happened?” you asked him, staring at the cuts. He lowered his head, bringing the pads of his fingers up to graze over the three scratches. Namor said nothing, just bringing his eyes back up to meet yours, ebony irises trailing across yours. You forced yourself to break the eye contact and look at the cuts again; it was like they were claw marks. “Can you tell me?”

Namor opened his mouth, about to speak, but closed his lips and swallowed his words. You narrowed your brows at him.

“What did you--”

“Come with me,” he extended his hand suddenly. You blinked, glancing down at it.

“Sorry?”

“Please come with me,” he rephrased. You stared at his hand, at his calloused fingers and bronze skin. “I would like to show you something.”

“Tell me what happened first,” you took a step away from him, eyeing him carefully. He sighed, and in his silence, you glanced down to the wings at his feet only to see that on his left ankle, only one wing remained. In the place of where the other one once was a bright red cut that had been poorly stitched. His entire ankle was bruised. “Oh my gosh, your... your...”

“Talokan went to war,” Namor said bitterly. “Against Wakanda.”

You breathed a curse, only biting at the inside of your cheek. Your mind wandered back to the news report about Queen Ramonda’s death. You met his eyes and gave him a look, your heart sinking.

“You... you didn’t...?” you gulped, staring at him. His brows twitched upwards, his lips curving into a frown. “You didn’t. Please tell me you didn’t.”

“I had to,” he shook his head. “It was my people that were on the line.”

“You didn’t have to do anything,” you pointed a finger at him. “She had a daughter. You killed her mother. Can you even imagine what she’s going through?”

“I can,” Namor told you firmly, stepping forward. “And I have.”

You said nothing, just frowning at him. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, gathering himself, before he looked back down at you.

“And that is why I need to show you this,” he put out his hand for you to grab again. “I need you to see where I am coming from.”

“Where are you taking me?” you glanced at his hand, meeting his eyes for a moment before sighing and taking it. You hand folded into his, your heart twisting at his touch.

“Talokan.”

---

THE JOURNEY INTO THE DEPTHS of the ocean was like nothing you had seen before. Namor had taken something out of his pocket, one of those devices you saw his soldiers wearing over their mouth and noses. You had barely held onto your consciousness as he swam you down there, and it wasn’t until you reached some kind of half-above half-below water area that you felt fully awake.

“Much ch'aik u ba'al u nook' síis yéetel jump'éel tin taasaj (Please grab her some fresh clothes and a suit),” you heard Namor speak. Your eyes fluttered open, and he had taken the device off of your nose and mouth. Your head was in his lap, you realized. “Níib óolal (Thank you).”

You blinked a few times to wake yourself up; glancing about you, you saw the color of the blue water reflecting off of the white stalactites and stalagmites around the cave, making everything appear to be shades of blue. You groaned, your head pounding as you tried to sit yourself up. Namor’s head snapped down to you.

“Oh, you’re awake,” he said, steadying you and helping you as you sat up. He had a small smile on his face as you glanced around, feeling discombobulated. He glanced over to his right, where a woman with blue skin stood. “Wa pudieras Mach ti' ba'al u jantej... jump'íit ja'...(If you could grab her something to eat... some water...).”

The woman immediately disappeared into some other room behind her. You blinked at Namor after watching the woman walk away. Clearing your throat, you croaked, “Is this Talokan?”

Namor chuckled. “No. This is a half-way point, so to speak. I have to get you in a suit. And out of these wet clothes.”

He lifted up your soaking wet sleeve before lifting his head and glancing elsewhere. You glanced down at yourself, realizing that your white shirt was soaking wet and entirely see-through. You felt your face get hot as you wrapped your arms around yourself, but you felt less uncomfortable then you would’ve though; Namor was purposefully not looking, his ears slightly red, glancing over at where the woman had disappeared. You saw the wings on his ankles flutter.

“Waye', K’uk’ulkan (Here, K’uk’ulkan),” in came another woman, carrying what looked like some kind of dress, as well as one of those little devices to go over your nose and mouth. Namor gave the woman a nod of his head in thanks, and, helping up to your feet, took the dress from her to hand to you.

“You may change into this,” he told you. You took it from you, the linen and cloth soft against your cold skin. You blinked at him. He blinked back.

“Not here,” you told him pointedly. “Where can I...?”

His lips curled up and he chuckled before pointing to a small room behind you. You went in and changed, stripping the wet clothes and shivering before you draped the dress over you.

It warmed you up quick, but without a mirror you had no way of telling if it was on the right way, so you assumed it would be fine. You emerged from the small room, and Namor smiled at the sight of you.

“Suits you,” was all he said, biting the inside of his cheek as if to stop himself from smiling to wide at the sight of you in Talokan’s dress. “Let’s get you into a suit, then.”

“What for?” you asked, following him as the pair of you ventured further into the cave. “I thought I could just wear that thing over my face.”

“Oh, no,” Namor shook his head. “You are human. The pressure of the ocean would crush every bone in your body. Even my considerable strength couldn’t save you from it.”

“You know,” you gulped. “You’re not really selling this underwater-city thing.”

“The suit will keep you safe,” he reassured you with a joking smile, opening up a rather large closet and pulling out a type of diving-suit. “Step in.”

The suit felt bulky and uncomfortable, but you were the knowledge that it would keep you safe so deep in the water had pacified your anxieties. Practically waddling behind him, the pair of you dove into the water, and he lead you to a stream of rushing water.

“In you go,” he said, nudging you so you were in it. Without warning, the water pushed you at top speed into the depths. You yelped, but glancing behind you and seeing him laugh at you made you a little less worried. It was still equally as terrifying.

The deep ocean was darker than you thought it would be, and at some point you couldn’t even see your hands in front of you. It wasn’t until the stream fell off that you realized there was a light coming from your suit, helping you see. Namor came to your side and guided you further across the sand.

A giant whale bellowed above you, making you flinch and jump inside the suit. Namor laughed at you as it swam by, waving to the three Talokanil that were holding into its fins. Your jaw was permanently agape, and Namor took you by the arm and pulled you towards Talokan.

It was like nothing you had ever seen before. It was reminiscent of all of the ancient mesoamerican artifacts you had seen in Yucatán, but entirely its own type of architecture and energy. It was practically dipped in vibranium, every building and structure shining under a source of light you hadn’t found yet.

Kids played with balls, women and their babies waved hello, others were farming further down below. Upon seeing Namor, those nearby bowed their heads and opened their palms to him, just as they had on the mining ship. Namor, always, greeting them back. Some stared at you like you were a ghost.

A child swam up to you, curious. She looked young, maybe four years old at most. She greeted Namor, to which he greeted her back with a grin, before she turned to you and tapped on the glass of your suit. You giggled at her, and she clung onto your arm, swinging from it.

Someone called out from the distance, and the girl only giggled more before letting her grasp on you go. She waved goodbye and swam away, laughing the entire way. You watched who you assume to be her mother, grab her by the waist and lift her, spinning her around with a grin. This place was beautiful, you thought. These people were beautiful.

You glanced at Namor; he was already staring at you, a smitten smile on his face. He didn’t look away until he gestured you to follow him again. You did so without hesitation.

Glancing off into the distance, was the sun. Well, maybe not the real sun, but it was almost as bright as it, and hung in the air as if it were setting.

“Woah,” you breathed out loud, staring at in wonder.

“It is called the Sastun. We use it for our rituals. In the depths of the ocean,” Namor said, staring at it as if it were the first time. “I brought the sun to my people.”

You turned to him, amazed. This was all his, you thought. He was in charge of protecting this entire nation. Your heart was churning in your chest, not just at the sight of him, but at the sight of all he had built here. You felt like crying.

“Do you see?” he asked you, breaking the silence and turning to face you. “You must know that I do not... kill... because I am cruel. Or for sport. I do it because I am willing to do anything for them. For this, I would kill a thousand vibranium-hunting scientists, if it meant keeping them from finding us.”

You only stared at him. The knowledge that he has killed never sat well with you. But, guiltily, you understood. This was his home. These were his people. It was his duty to protect them. You got it.

“Come,” he said after a very long pregnant pause. “Let’s get you out of that thing.”

---

EVENTUALLY, THE PAIR OF YOU MADE your way back up to the cave where you could survive without the suit or the device over your nose and mouth. Your clothes, to your amazement, were perfectly dry when you took the suit off. Wiping off the water that had dripped onto you from the taking off the suit process, Namor lead you into a room that was an offset of the main one that you had woken up in.

On the walls were beautifully painted murals, depicting what you assumed was the history of Talokan and it’s people. You stared at them, strolling about the room; Namor stood at the doorway, staring at you as you stared at the paintings. One was of a woman holding a child with winged ankles; you assumed it was Namor’s mother. One was of the Black Panther-- showing the battle you assumed he fought recently.

On the table, however, was a canvas. Around it and on the floor were crushed balls of papyrus, covering in smudged charcoal and ink. Namor hastened forward and grabbed the canvas off of the desk before you could see what was on it, and slid it into the drawer.

“What was that?” you asked. Namor shook his head.

“Unimportant,” he told you, very obviously lying. “Just... sketches.”

“Hm,” you squinted at him before sitting down on the chair. “These are beautiful.”

“Thank you,” he said earnestly, gazing up at them. He ran his hand over the one of the woman and her infant, his fingers tracing the face of the woman.

“Is that your mother?”

“It is,” Namor sighed. “I told you before that I could understand what the Princess was going through, and I was telling the truth. My mother wasn’t killed, no, but my people were. My mother and her village were driven from their maize farms by Spanish conquistadors who brought smallpox, hateful language, and dogma from another world.”

He dropped his hand from the mural, turning around to face you. He pulled up the other chair to sit across from you, sighing again and continuing.

“Facing starvation, war and disease my people turned to Chaac. Our god of rain and abundance. My mother was pregnant with me at the time. She did not want to ingest the plant, for fear of what it may do to me. But the Shaman was convincing. The plant took away their ability to breathe air, but it enabled them to draw oxygen from the sea.

“My people settled in the ocean, away from the war and were cured of their diseases. My mother gave birth to me here, and I became the first born son of Talokan. I was different from other Talokanil. A mutant. I looked different. I was small in size. A runt. But I could breathe the air our ancestors breathed.

“I could swim in the sky and aged slower. As she grew older, my mother mourned the life on land that she once knew and died with a broken heart. My mother made me promise to bury her in the soil of her homeland. But nothing could prepare me for what I would find.“

“What happened?” you asked, however you had an inclining that you knew exactly what he was going to say.

“Terror,” he told you, a grave expression on his face. “My people. Enslaved. By the Spanish.”

You swallowed. You knew it. You studied this in school, how the Spanish “explored” and conquered areas in Mexico and Florida. The look on Namor’s face made you want to cry.

“A Spanish man of faith cursed me as he died by my hand,” he continued, shaking his head. “Called me el niño sin amor.”

“Child without love,” you translated.

“And I took my name from that. Namor. Because I have no love for the surface world,” he grabbed a type of cape off of the back of his chair and draped it over his shoulders, fiddling with the cloth. “Upon returning, I was made King, recognized as K’uk’ulkan, and Talokan grew under my rule.”

“I’m sorry you went through that,” was all you could say. “That’s... I just...”

You could feel your chest churning, your eyes welling up. You were embarrassed of the level of your empathy, how much you cared; you hadn’t realized he meant so much to you, not fully. Hearing his pain, the struggle of his people, it was like living it. He frowned.

“I’m sorry,” you covered up your face. “I don’t mean to... I’m just--”

“Don’t apologize,” he moved his chair forward, gingerly removing your hands from your face and holding them in his own. “Please don’t. It warms me to see that you understand the gravity of the situation I am in.”

“I don’t think it was right of you to kill Queen Ramonda,” you told him, sniffling. “But I... I guess I...”

“I don’t think it was right of me either,” he admitted. “I think it ruined any chances of Talokan becoming peaceful allies with Wakanda. We are allies, now... but... it is not how I would’ve hoped.”

“I get that,” you told him, relishing in the feeling of his thumbs absentmindedly rubbing circles across your knuckles. There was a long silence. You were relishing in the warmth of him, his closeness. It had only been two months since you saw him last, on the boat, but even that, you realized, was too long.

“I must get you home, now,” Namor told you finally, a slight frown on his face, his eyes knowing. You gazed at him, your teary eyes unable to do anything else. He was right, you knew that; your sister was no doubt hysterical. But you couldn’t find it in you to move. “Unless, you... well...”

“What?” you tilted your head to the side.

“You could stay,” he shrugged. Your lips curled up. “Here. It’s safe, there’s plenty of food and water... many of my people stay up here. We could find a way for you to go down to Talokan without the bulky suit, and--”

“Slow down,” you breathed pleasantly, leaning forward and cupping a hand to his cheek. He shut up instantly, leaning into your hand. “I have a job. And a sister. I... I can’t just...”

“I know,” he heaved a sigh. “Worth a shot, no?”

“I can’t live here,” you told him. “But for the night... well...?”

Namor suddenly grinned, wider than you had ever seen him grin before. The apples of his cheeks had turned a berry color, the corners of his eyes crinkling. Leaning towards you, he pressed his lips onto yours. You could feel his smile through the kiss, and you couldn’t help but smile yourself as his hands cupped at the sides of your cheeks.

He led you to stand, getting to his feet as well, and pulled you flush against him. You breathed him in, finding it hard to smile as your lips moved against his. The pair of you wandered backwards towards the far wall that was empty of the mural.

Your back hit the wall, and you giggled against his lips as he moved to you two were practically chest to chest. Namor grinned too, pulling away from a second, both hands still on either sides of your cheeks, and he stared at you for a second.

“Nib óolal, Chaac, tuméen taasik teen ti' leti',” he mumbled to himself, kissing your lips again before kissing your cheekbones, your forehead, your nose, your neck.

“What’s-- that-- mean?” you asked, struggling o speak because he kept kissing you and interrupting.

“Nothing,” he grinned cheekily. You narrowed your eyes.

“C’mon,” you nudged him. He shook his head.

“You’ll find out later,” Namor told you, rubbing a thumb across your cheekbone.

“Promise?” you lifted up a pinky. He furrowed his eyes, staring at it. You giggled and peeled his free hand off of you, linking pinkies with him. “Pinky-promise.”

“That is ridiculous,” Namor declared. “Yes, I promise. I don’t understand this pinky-thing.”

You rolled your eyes and kissed him again.

---

translation:

“Nib óolal, Chaac, tuméen taasik teen ti' leti'.” --��Thank you, Chaac, for bringing me to her.

taglist:

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a/n: having wakanda forever on disney plus has seriously fueled my fire. thank god we got these high quality gifs now cuz my guy looks stunning

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