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revrover · 2 years ago

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The Stranger - Pt 1

Part Two | Part Three

Pairing: Namor x Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Language, blood, brief mentions of violence and alcohol

Summary: Upon discovering the unconscious body of a woman floating in the water, you rush to provide aid. Little do you know her people are searching for her, bringing a mysterious man to your door.

A/N: Still very new to writing fanfic (this is literally post number two), but couldn’t get this drabble out of my brain for a week so here it is. Please be kind!

***I do not give permission to copy, plagiarize, or repost my work as your own in any form!

It’s close to dusk when you make your way from town back to your home on the secluded shoreline. With food and supplies in a bag slung over your shoulder, it will be another two or three days before you head back to restock. Although a fair distance, you have come to cherish the 5-mile trek into town. Walking along less traveled paths, visiting with the locals, and admiring the breathtaking nature around you have become some of your favorite things about living on the island.

As the sun steals its last glimpse over the horizon, the vibrant orange and purple hues stretching across the sky begin to dim. The outline of a small bungalow comes into view about a hundred meters down the way. The warm glow of lanterns you hung before you left shines from the front porch, welcoming your return.

You stumbled across this place two years ago, abandoned and needing major repair. Maybe it was just your nature to see the beauty and potential in broken things, but as soon as you laid eyes on the residence, your heart was set on it. Wrapped around the front is a porch with stairs that lead down onto a stone path, eventually making its way to the sand. Through the front door, an open entryway and a small kitchen are situated to the left accompanied by a simple sitting area. To the right is a doorway that leads to your bedroom and bathroom. It's a humble home, but you've worked hard to make it comfortable.

As you walk the familiar pathway toward the bungalow, you look out at the ocean. You watch as the water dances its way up the beach with every push and pull of the tide, waves gently lapping their way up onto the sand to make a melodic rhythm. You breathe in the salty air and revel in the beauty the island so generously offers.

The moment of serenity is interrupted when, out of the corner of your eye, you notice something just past the wave breaks. You squint as you try to focus your gaze to ensure the evening shadows aren't playing tricks on you. A shiver shoots down your spine.

There's something floating in the water. Only, it's not something. It's someone.

"Oh my god," you say in disbelief, your eyes widening as you feel the air rush from your lungs.

You react on pure instinct, immediately dropping your bag to the ground and sprinting into the water. Taking a deep breath, you plunge straight into the waves, pumping your arms and kicking your legs until they burn. You swim as hard as you can toward the body as it floats face down.

When you reach it, you fear the worst. Quickly you turn it over to check for a pulse and discover it is a woman. Her frame is small, but she's solid and muscular. Body adorned with beautiful gold and jade trinkets, she appears to be wearing some sort of woven armor. You also notice her raven-black hair tied in a knot on top of her head, and a mesh-like apparatus covering her nose and mouth.

You carefully cradle the woman's head, lifting it out of the water.

"What the hell??" You mutter in shock.

Right before your eyes, part of the woman’s face that is now exposed to the air turns a pale pigment of blue. She seems human enough, yet the way the blueness of her skin contrasts with its golden tones underneath the ocean surface makes you question what she might be instead.

All thoughts are pushed aside, however, the moment your attention is drawn to the sight of blood. Two gouges, a laceration across her shoulder, and a wound to her abdomen are seeping red into the salt water. She’s in poor condition and time is not on your side.

Doing your best to grapple her body, you kick your feet and pull the woman back to shore. The tide's added assistance gives you both the momentum needed to propel you toward the beach. As soon as you are able to stand, you turn and haul her body the rest of the way out of the ocean.

Gently you lay her on a patch of dry sand as you take a moment to catch your breath. Your chest repeatedly rises and falls, your lungs straining for more oxygen. Staring at her now, you feel your heart nearly pounding out of your chest as the rest of her body turns the same shade of blue as her face. You shake your head as you fight back both your fear and curiosity. Whatever the woman's origins, tending to her wounds is your main priority. Help her now, and ask questions later.

Still unconscious, you reach up to remove the apparatus over her face, preparing to administer CPR. Suddenly, her arm shoots out and grasps your wrist, scaring the shit out of you. With unbelievable strength, she restrains any movement your hand could possibly make. Her eyes are wide and intense, pupils dilated.

"Okay, okay, I won't mess with it!" You promise. Her grip slackens as her eyes roll to the back of her head, losing consciousness again.

You rub your wrist, the bruise already forming. Deciding it would be best to move her from behind, you link yourself under her arms and pull her towards your home, unwittingly leaving a trail of sand and blood behind you.

Making it to the bungalow, you manage to get the woman inside and onto your kitchen table. She's breathing, but it's shallow. Quickly, you grab all the first aid and sewing supplies you can scrounge out of the cabinets. You swipe a bottle of tequila from the shelf above the sink for good measure. Then you get to work to patch her up the best you can.

You clean the wound on her abdomen first, as that's where the bleeding is most prominent. Disinfecting it, applying pressure, then sewing it up, you focus meticulously on the needle in your hand, threading it back and forth through her skin. Once you finish, you fashion a bandage to soak up the excess blood.

The sky is dark as you move on to her shoulder to do the same. It feels like hours have gone by as you continue dressing the woman's wounds. It’s well into the night now, and the only light reflecting off the ocean for miles is from the moon and the lanterns of your home.

That's when he finds you.

A dark figure emerges from the water. He surveys the scene in front of him, eyes filling with rage as his focus dials in on the bloody trail leading up to your door. Spear in hand and body seething with anger, he marches towards your little house.

Just as you clip the thread used to sew up the woman's shoulder and begin to apply another bandage, you're startled by a deafening CRASH!

Behind you, your front door gets obliterated. Through it, storms a man who quickly steps over the wooden debris that now litters the floor. His presence swallows the room as water drips off of his body. His eyes lock on to yours.

"Holy shit!" You exclaim in terror. Before you know what is happening, he has made his way over to you, aggressively backing you up against the kitchen cabinets.

Face-to-face with you now, he holds the tip of his spear to your throat, grazing your skin with it threateningly. He leans in so close you smell the salty ocean spray that covers his dark skin and can practically see your reflection in the cold piece of jade pierced through his septum. His breath is steady, but his glare is wild and ferocious. You raise your hands, attempting to show you mean no harm, only you don't account for the fact that your arms are covered in the woman's blood. His look becomes more menacing.

"What have you done?" He growls, his voice low and dangerous. A fire is burning in his eyes as they widen with rage.

"I'm helping her! I'm helping her!" is all you manage to say as you plead your case to the mysterious, hostile stranger.

His stare remains intense as you feel the growing pressure of the cold metal spear against your throat. Everything inside you is screaming, telling you to close your eyes and that one way or another it will all be over soon. But you don't - you hold your ground and hold his gaze, searching his face for any shred of hope that he will spare your life.

The man's eyes flick over to the woman on the table, taking in more of the scene. As his head turns, you notice his pointed ears and beautifully hand-carved gauges made of jade. He turns his head slowly back to you, looking at you this time as if deliberating in his mind whether or not you are telling the truth.

Again he leans in close, and you hold your breath as you await his final verdict.

"You will speak of this to no one." It's not a question. It's a command.

You nod, willing to agree to anything at this point if it means not having your jugular sliced open.

"You will forget this night, and what you have seen."

Again you nod.

He keeps the spear pointed at your throat while carefully backing away toward the table. Your heart is pounding out of your chest as adrenaline pumps through your veins. You don't dare move a muscle.

The man retreats, withdrawing his spear and scooping up the woman who looks so petite in his arms. He carries her through the doorway but stops to look back at you. He says nothing, but his eyes are deadlocked on yours. You can’t describe or decipher the electric sensation that runs through your body at that moment, so you chalk it up to being in shock.

Finally, he turns to leave, seemingly floating down to the shoreline with the woman securely in his arms. You watch as they disappear into the ocean and the night.

Left alone, surrounded only by silence, the stinging memory of a blade against your neck, and a buzzing in your chest, you look around the empty kitchen. Blood and first aid supplies cover your table; debris that was once your front door now lays scattered across the floor, a draft gliding its way through your home.

Your mind is still processing everything that has happened. Physically and emotionally, you are exhausted.

"Screw it," you say out loud, grabbing the tequila still on the table and taking a swig straight from the bottle. "I'm going to bed."

You wake up the next morning as the sun is starting to rise and feel just as exhausted as when you had fallen asleep. Your mind is hazy. Your body is sore. You get up and pull on a fresh shirt and some shorts before making your way out of your bedroom. Groggily you shuffle through the entryway and into the kitchen to greet last night's mess.

Only a few steps into the kitchen, however, you stop. Blinking a few times, you rub your eyes. On the table, where bloodied gauze, cloths, sewing needles, and the works had been scattered, now sits your bag next to a neat pile of the food and supplies you had gathered from yesterday's trip into town. You look down at your feet to discover a clean, debris-less floor. Moving in reverse, you pace a few steps back into the entryway and turn your head. Stunned, you see a new, beautifully carved wooden door in place of where your old one had been kicked down the night before.

You pinch your temples as you try to convince yourself you're not losing your mind. You move closer to inspect the door. Eyes full of wonder and amazement, you run your fingers down its wooden grooves. The surface is smooth as stone, yet the grain in it gives the material a richness that makes your jaw drop as you admire it.

Before you can even ask yourself how it was possible, you open the door and your breath catches in your throat. The man from last night is sitting there on your front porch, legs hanging off the edge of it, looking out at the softly illuminated horizon.

"I apologize about the door." He says, still facing the ocean.

Fear takes over as you find yourself frozen in his presence. He senses your uneasiness and, still seated on the edge of the porch, turns toward you. He raises one hand to the air as a sign of his peaceful intention.

"I promise I am not here to bring harm to you... or your home," he adds, his eyes trailing toward the doorway. You say nothing, equally stunned and confused by his being there.

"I am sorry for threatening you," he says, his voice turning somber. "I didn't know what you were doing to her."

"Is she okay?" You ask, finally finding your voice. "Your wife?"

He lets out a sharp chuckle.

"Namora isn't my wife, she's one of my generals -- my best, in fact. And yes, she is okay, thanks to you."

A general. You avert your gaze, feeling foolish for assuming incorrectly. Suddenly the events of last night take on a different tone than what you had perceived.

"We had been searching for her for two days." The man continues to explain, "When I finally traced her whereabouts here and found her with you, I assumed the worst." He looks back out toward the ocean. "History has not typically been kind to my people in these types of situations."

You feel your chest tighten as the weight of his words sinks in. Your eyes wander from the ground up to the stranger. You watch as beads of salt water forge paths on his skin, rolling from his dark slick hair down the toned muscles of his back.

"Who... are your people, exactly? Who are you?" You find the courage to ask.

He turns back to look at you, raising an eyebrow in your direction as he considers his answers.

"There are some who know me as K’uk’ulkan." He says thoughtfully. "But most know me as Namor." Pushing himself up to a stand, he continues, "As for my people, that is a discussion for another time."

Namor walks up to you, and once again you find yourself face-to-face with him. Only this time his presence is not menacing, it's hypnotizing.

"Thank you," he says softly, "for what you did. It will not be forgotten."

There's a rich sincerity in his voice. Mesmerized by it, all you can muster in response is a nod of your head. A slight smile pulls at the corners of Namor's mouth as he closely studies your face. The light of the morning sun reflects in his eyes, and where you had only seen brooding darkness before, you now see shimmering flecks of gold. Everything about him is beautiful.

"You are not what I expected." He says warmly, leaning in closer as if the two of you are sharing a secret. He lingers there a moment longer. Then, all too soon, he nods and turns to head down the stairs of your front porch. As he reaches the end of the stone walkway, he stops before stepping out onto the sand.

"Remember," he says, repeating his instructions from your encounter last night, only gentler. "Speak of this to no one."

"Will you be back?" You ask earnestly. You don't know what prompts your question, other than the thought of his departure suddenly pulling at your soul in a way you can't explain.

He turns back to look at you and smiles. You return it with a smile of your own. No words are needed for you to know that somehow, someday, you would see him again.

You watch from the porch as Namor strides out into the water and disappears below the surface. The sun glimmers brilliantly across the waves as they engulf him in their deep abyss.

#namor #namor x reader #namor x you #mcu namor #namor x y/n #k'uk'ulkan #namor fluff #namor imagine #mcu imagine #namor fanfic #namor fanfiction #namora #wakanda forever #namor x gen!reader #namor x fem!reader

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nellycanwrite · 2 years ago

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A Request

Part 1 of the “The Request” Series || Attuma x Talokanil!Princess!Reader

Summary: As the daughter of the feathered serpent god, you had always felt the pressure of living up to your father’s name. But you never had to worry; Attuma was always there to quell your fears and follow your will to the ends of the earth.

Or, in which Attuma swears his undying loyalty and love for you, even if it meant being as shameless as to declare his love to a princess when he was but a mere warrior.

Rating: 16+

Word Count: 10.9K

Warnings: None. Just pure fluffy goodness. If you include a slightly overprotective Dad!Namor then yes, he’s the warning. Maybe a little bit of childhood friends to lovers. A whole lot of Princess x Warrior.

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

K'uk'ulkan had never felt as much loss as he had the day he had lost your mother. Yet there lay bittersweet joy; for the heir to the throne of Talokan had breathed their first breath and let out a cry so strong it beckoned the creatures of the deep sea to their bidding.

You were born a wee thing; weak and fragile as the old shells that littered the floors of the sea. Yet you held strong in the arms of your father as he witnessed his wife lifelessly lay in their shared chambers. The handmaidens and wet nurses all wept and mourned at the loss of their queen, the ocean swayed with the waves of its people's grief. You cried with your father's subjects as if you had understood the passing of Talokan's queen mother, but K'uk'ulkan never shed a tear, no.

He was a king to his people. He was the protector of his nation. A God was he revered by both land and sea.

He was your father.

And he dared not to weep in front of the children he held so dear—for even in the heartache of his loss does he remember the weight of his divine majesty and countenance to his people.

“The queen of Talokan has passed,” K'uk'ulkan swallowed the lump that formed on his throat as he bit back bitter tears. Tears that he will never show his people in a sign of great weakness, “yet she would not have wished for us to mourn in sadness. She brought us a gift that none could ever compare. She would have wished for us to celebrate in her absence for the birth of our child—Talokan's first heir.”

The you who had been presented with a crown and a scepter of your kingdom's rule since your birth inherited your father's features; the ears that pointed to the heavens as a sign of the divine blood that flowed through your veins, the golden skin that the sun had seemed to kiss in great exhalation to your birth, and the wings of heaven bestowed upon your ankles.

You were undoubtedly his child. The heir to K’uk’ulkan’s great nation.

You were loved by both land and sea, perhaps a gift from your late grandmother's love for the surface, for when you visit the land and take gulps of air do you stay breathing and when you step into the rocks of your father's study do you remain kissed by the sun. You did not change into the color of the sea like the maids that have cared for you, instead, you remained the same color as your own father when he sits idly on dry land.

At the tender age of seven did you realize the weight of the name of your father. You aspired to become like him, to fly like him, to lead the people like he did in childish wonder. He showed you the land that your ancestors once owned, the burial sight of your late grandmother, Fen, and the beauty that came with your motherland.

You yearned for the sights of the surface world, craved for the sun that illuminated the sky—not the one that your father had curated all those years ago, but the one that sits amongst the clouds of the surface—and you whispered wistful wishes to walk into the luscious green of the land that was unknown to you.

But your father forbids you to go further than the coves of Talokan's entrance. The sole heir to the throne of your nation should be safe. Protected. You were only allowed to go up into the surface every three months, a leniency that your father had so mercifully given you, and stare at the land dwelling wildlife that would so cross your vision.

You were merely stuck in the watchful eyes of your guards as you gazed with great longing at the mountains so far from your reach and the forests that would call your name.

Despite the love that you had for the beauties of the surface world, you loved your people and your great nation of the deep sea. You loved your father and tried your best to live up to the name of K'uk'ulkan. At the age of eleven you were made aware of your duties to your people. You had made sure that those duties were fulfilled despite the protests of your elders for being so young; that the beloved princess of Talokan need not to carry on the mantle of her royal duties just yet. But you worked hard to outshine your peers to preserve the honor of your father.

K’uk’ulkan could not be any prouder than he is now.

But the pedestal that you stood on was lonely. You did not have many friends, not because your father was protective of you and had guards at your beck and call, but because you were always so nervous to converse with the other Talokanil children.

What if they didn’t like you? What if they decided that your status as a princess would hinder their relationship with you? What if they didn’t see you as a prospect to rule them in the future when your father passes the baton of his majesty to you?

How ironic must it be for the princess of a great nation cower before the idea of friendship to her own people.

But that had changed when your father let you meet two Talokanil children; Namora and Attuma.

You knew Namora as your relative—your father’s cousin, to be exact—and sometimes came and went into the palace when you studied. But you never did get the chance to talk to her. You were far too anxious to try and talk to someone whose aura was as intense as hers, even when she’s just a few years older than you.

“They said they wanted to be your friend, in waal.” my child, he said. Both of them shifted nervously from where they stood, toy spears hidden behind their backs as they fidgeted in place. You noticed how Namora elbowed the boy Attuma on the ribs. He glared at her albeit playfully and said nothing as he behaved.

You have always noticed the two of them from afar when you studied near your father's throne. They were always rowdy, always hitting each other with their spears clumsily. Despite this, they always laughed and took everything in a merry stride. They never ceased to amaze you.

Even though Namora was far smaller than Attuma (or any other Talokanil child your age, really), she always won their little play-fights. Their roughhousing caused other children to stay clear of them, but you always found them fascinating. You never knew they wanted to be your friends. You have never as much as held a proper conversation with them except for a few nervous waves and panicked scrambling on your part when they caught you staring.

“My…friends?” It was your turn to fidget nervously, your hands clasping together and your thumbs twiddling against each other whilst you looked down. You felt the water shift as your father swam towards you, his tender gaze calming you down when his figure covered you from the curious eyes of the Talokanil children.

“That's right. They want to play with you. I'm sure you were wishing for the same, no?” He chuckled knowingly. You felt heat rise from the back of your neck and crawl up your cheeks—your father had seen you staring at them while they were playing almost everyday!

Nervously, you nodded ever slowly. There was no lie to his claims. You truly did wish for them to become your friends.

Attuma's patience must have run out when you were taking your time to reply to your father. You shrieked in surprise when you met the biggest grin you had seen in your life from just above you, an incisor clearly missing in the front of his mouth. K'uk'ulkan laughed and gently coaxed the boy down to your level, his hair flowing gracefully with the water as your father grabbed his ankles and lowered him in front of you.

“Wanna play with us?” You blinked at his straightforwardness. You glanced at your father for help, but he merely chuckled and gestured for you to answer.

“I—well—um…” He was too close to you that you felt like fainting from your own nerves.

“Attuma, don't be rude,” Attuma grunted when Namora appeared by his side and delivered a firm whack to his head with a toy spear. You breathed out a centering exhale before shooting Namora a thankful look. She huffed at Attuma, “you might scare her. And you just swam over the king!”

“I do not mind. But be more mindful next time, Attuma. You must not swim over your elders.” K'uk'ulkan chuckled endearingly at the children's antics. He already knew how rambunctious they would be whenever he passed by them play-fighting.

Attuma nodded with a gapped-tooth grin but K'uk'ulkan doubts he would really listen to him. But that was alright—he has plenty of time to learn respect. The king of Talokan wishes for these children to be their mischievous selves a little while longer and enjoy their carefree lives as young Talokanil.

K'uk'ulkan notices you fidget once again when Namora turns her attention to you, just as eager to make you their new friend. You try to make out words with broken sentences, yet there was no right greeting that would come. You would deflate when Namora would hold the reins of the conversation again. You failed to introduce yourself proudly and your embarrassment made K'uk'ulkan coo—how precious could his princess be?

He chuckles and patted Namora and Attuma on the crowns of their heads, successfully diverting their attention away from you and into his benevolent smile.

“She's a little nervous, but she has a good heart. She also wishes to become your friend. But remember that you have to listen; it is the makings of a great warrior.”

“A great warrior?” Namor's eyes sparkled. Attuma stared at his king with wonder similar to the spark of Namora's eyes.

K'uk'ulkan chuckled and nodded. You chose this moment to swim to your father's side, hiding half of your body behind his own. You looked at Attuma and Namora curiously while they waited for their king's next words.

“A great warrior not only takes a spear and protects their people, but they listen as well. They listen to their people's cries and act upon their needs. It is also your duty to listen to your leaders—for they hold the burden of choice. Never forget that, my young warriors.”

Your father rubbed your back soothingly and pushed you gently forward. Your heart thumped loudly in your chest as soon as you were in close proximity with the two Talokanil children.

“Now this is your first task your king asks of you; listen to what the princess has to say, understood?”

They were eagerly waiting for your next words, their bodies barely holding in their excitement. You would have swam away right then and there, but you steeled your resolve and took a deep breath.

You said your name with a stutter, but that did not deter you. Your father gave you a reassuring pat to your shoulder. It filled you with more confidence to look them straight into the eye and say;

“I—I wish to be your friend, Namora. Attuma.”

The children gleamed happily, the water shifting as they circled you in excitement. Attuma had it in himself to wrap his arms around you and giggle with such carefree mirth that it covered you in a sense of welcome. Of belonging.

“You don’t know how long we wanted to become your friend, princesa!” He exclaimed, his arms still wrapped around you firmly. His toy spear now lay discarded on the ocean floor but he didn’t seem to mind.

Overwhelmed with the attention, you stuttered and twitched in his embrace. But you didn’t feel uncomfortable; it was a pleasant feeling to finally have a friend. But you weren’t used to physical touches just yet.

A large hand pried you off of Attuma, your hair whipping around you as you were now brought back to your father’s side. You saw him smile cordially at the boy, albeit strained, as his eyes twitched ever so slightly.

“Now, we have to be gentle with the princess. There shall be no sudden touches in her presence, especially with you, Attuma.”

Attuma blinked and cocked his head to the side, but he didn’t question his king’s instructions.

Years have passed since you have befriended the rowdy young warriors that K’uk’ulkan looked upon with great fondness. You, along with Namora and Attuma, have trained under the wing of your father in the ways of the spear much to your new friends’ joy.

As the next heir to the throne of your nation, you always did your best to meet the expectations that came with the name of the daughter of the feathered serpent god. You would go to the fields of your farmers to oversee harvest, weave baskets with the elderly to help the storage of the new batch of produce, and join the scholars that studied vibranium so you would further verse yourself to the mineral that grew in abundance in your ocean floors.

They were once such a tedious task for you; something that you did out of necessity. But Namora and Attuma made it a point to follow you everywhere you go, help you with the work and doubling the yields of your effort, and they made you smile when you were far too tired after your duties.

Attuma had made it a habit to make you cling on his back as you swam back home. There was no reason for you to get more exhausted than you already were, he told you. And despite your initial reluctance, you found yourself falling into a habit as well.

You found your royal duties far more enjoyable with them by your side, and you absolutely awaited the time of the day where you were relieved of your duties to go and spend your time with them.

“Don’t you find studying boring?” Attuma asked you one day, his meticulous hands polishing his training spear near the drop of the deep trenches. You tilted your head as soon as you seated yourself beside him, your legs dangling on the steep edge.

“I don’t think so…the language of the surface dwellers is fascinating. I find it enjoyable to learn.”

“You’re better off not knowing their language,” Namora huffed as she emerged from the bottom of the trench, a small lamp containing bright vibranium sustaining you with much needed light. She held her training spear proudly by her side, freshly decorated with shells that she found down below, “you know what they did to our grandmothers and grandfathers. I don’t see why you want to learn so much about them.”

“It is my duty, Namora. Once I take the throne I might need to talk with the surface dwellers one day,” you looked down on your lap and fiddled with the jade bracelet your father had gifted you on your fifteenth birthday—one that once belonged to your grandmother, “and I’m just preparing…just in case.”

“We’d be dead before we let any of those surface dwellers see you, princesa,” Attuma nudged his shoulders against yours and grinned, “we’ll make sure you don’t even have to talk to them as long as we’re there to protect you.”

“Did father tell you to say that?”

“What? No!” You gave Attuma a squinted eye stare and hummed. He averted his eyes nervously, his hands now working on his spear with more fervor than before. You and Namora snickered at his plight.

“He did.” Namora confirmed your suspicions. You sighed but left it be. You knew your father was just trying to protect you, so you let him do as he pleases. Although you did not fully understand the depth of the weight of his responsibilities, you could still recognize the great sorrow that came with his hate for the surface world.

And you had kept quiet about your longing to go up into the land; for you knew how it would pain him to know that you bore as much love for the surface as you did for the love you had for your nation.

Attuma cleared his throat and straightened his back, the spear he had decorated with the teeth of hammerheads now lay by his side. He stared at you with such conviction that rendered you speechless in his presence, and the light from the faux sun that your father had created casted him in a glorious light that made your breath hitch in your throat and the feathers on your ankles bristle in anticipation.

“I’ll do my best to train hard, princesa. I’ll become strong enough to protect Talokan—to protect you—so that you won’t even have to worry about any surface dwellers by the time you will inherit the throne.”

You felt more heat rush from your neck and now up to your eyes, his words giving you so much joy that you could possibly even imagine.

You had a friend far more loyal than any of your own guards from your father’s command. And if there was one thing you had learned from your duties as princess, that was the honor that came with a loyal subject.

Your flustered surprise was eventually replaced with giggles when Namora hit Attuma on the head with the brunt side of her spear, her face contorting to one of lighthearted teasing.

“Do you really think you’re the only one training to be by the princess’ side? You’ll have to go through me first.”

“Then I’ll just have to train harder to beat you, Namora,” Attuma glanced at you and gave you a grin, “I’ll be the one to stand by the princess’ side.”

“You’ve never even beaten me once.” “There’s a first time for everything.”

She scoffed. “In your dreams.”

You stopped their little play-fight before it got too heated by pulling them closer to your side, your arms around their necks and laughing with such elation. You were thankful that they came into your lives and became your closest friends, and you would not ever want to see them change as you slowly aged with the sea.

“While the both of you train to become warriors, I’ll study even harder so I could be a queen that both of you will be proud to serve under. I don’t want your efforts to go to waste and serve a leader that’s incompetent.”

“You don’t have to do that, princesa. We shall follow you through the ends of the earth if need be. We already know that you outshine any ruler that came before and will come after you.”

“My father would not be too pleased if he heard you say that, Attuma.”

“He feels the same way, don’t worry.” Namora spoke in turn for the boy. You giggled when Attuma gave you a cheeky grin.

The three of you laughed with glee, unspoken promises now drifting with the currents of the outskirts of the capital city of your great nation.

It’s almost been a century since you have befriended them. A century since you have made your closest friends and aides. Namora and Attuma were always stuck by your side even when there were calls from their king to gather his strongest men. They gave you counsel, they gave you peace, they gave you protection in your times of need.

Nowadays, though, Namora has frequented your father’s side more likely than not—mostly because she was his cousin and his most exemplary warrior. Attuma was only second in skill compared to Namora, but he was still powerful in his own right.

You wondered when would your father hail them as generals; they deserve to be given the title for their service and their wit. You, as the princess of Talokan, can vouch for their competence.

“Where shall we go today, princesa?” Attuma asked you, his gait slowly inching closer to your own.

The boy you once knew had grown into a fine man. He had honed his body to withstand the greatest blows, turned himself into a living shield for your purpose and disposal. You did not want him to go into such extremities, but he always insisted. He even went as far as to hunt hammerhead sharks on his own and nearly killed himself in the process. The bites of hostiles were lodged firmly into his stomach, and the scars that littered his skin became trophies of his successful exploits.

You cried and cried beside him as you told him how stupid he was, how foolish he was to do everything in your name. How could he throw himself into danger just to train himself for your sake? It did not make sense to you, and you reckon that you will never understand the mind of a great warrior like Attuma.

Despite this, he comforted you and held you close to him; told you that he would welcome any sort of pain just so he could protect you from harm's way. You cried again and punched him in his abdomen—you were sure to tell your healers that you would be the one to patch up your reckless guard as an apology.

You felt his warmth from the water that surrounded you as it shifted when he tucked a strand of hair behind your pointed ears. You smiled.

“You can call me by my name, Attuma. You know that.”

“How dare I ever utter your name so casually?” He asked you almost incredulously. You sighed.

“We have been friends for over a century. You can be comfortable with me,” you turned to him with a pout, “please?”

“Is that an order?” He asked you, a trace of amusement from his quirked lip. You huffed and crossed your arms.

“You know I don't like giving orders, Attuma.”

“Then I shall continue calling you by your title, princesa.”

“And what if I ask you this as a request?” You swam closer to him, your pout breaking out into a knowing grin.

Attuma stayed silent, his head turned to avoid your piercing gaze. He felt heat from the back of his neck at your proximity, but he didn't dare move away from you.

You huffed.

“You're no fun.”

Attuma resisted the urge to chuckle. You looked at him in the corner of your eyes and smiled; you knew he couldn't resist it when you tried to make him laugh.

“And what of your errands today?” He asked you, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. You blinked and swam towards him, pling his large bicep into the direction of your father's study.

“We've wasted much time, Attuma. Now come, we are going to the surface.” He nodded in affirmation and led you towards the entrance of the underwater cave systems your father introduced you to as a child. It was one of your favorite places, but your duties called you to the deeper parts of the sea to tend to your people.

As soon as you ascended, you saw the figure of your father dressed in his cloak as he painted murals upon the walls. Beside him was Namora, her mask on her face and her pallor now blue for being in land. You regarded your father with a bow, gestured him with the sign of your people’s respect, and slowly ascended into his study.

“Father.” you called out to him. He paused from his painting and smiled at you, his eyes filling with so much love that it was unlike the name the surface dwellers cursed him to be.

“In princesa,” my princess, he greeted you, reaching out to wipe the saltwater away from your eyes, “what brings you here?”

“It is the time of the year to visit the surface, father. I was just here to let you know before I went.” His face steeled much like the other months across the century you had told him. But it was not in a place of anger—it was in a place of worry for your well-being.

“I trust you to remember all that I have taught you. Return as soon as possible, understood?” You nodded and grabbed his hands, squeezing them tight in assurance.

“You do not have to worry. You have taught me well. And Attuma will be with me while I am out, so I shall be safe in his hands.”

K’uk’ulkan glanced behind you, now regarding Attuma with a nod of acknowledgement as he placed his mask on his face. Attuma bowed his head in respect and tightened the hold on his spear. The king’s brows furrowed.

“If you bring Namora with you—”

“Father,” you cut him off, “I will be alright. I will not do anything to endanger myself nor Attuma. I will merely visit the borders of the reef, is all. I’m sure our warriors have already scouted the area before they were called back.”

“In waal…”

“We always go through this every three months. I do not doubt your worries, but place your trust in me and the warrior I have chosen.”

Attuma straightened his back a tad bit, his chest rising in pride. He met eyes with Namora and grinned behind his mask. Namora simply replied with a silent roll of her eyes.

K’uk’ulkan swallowed a lump on his throat and sighed. He knew you were right. He trusted you enough that you would be safe, especially when someone as skilled as Attuma were to be by your side. It was the surface that he did not trust. It took so much from him and his forefathers even before Talokan came to be. He did not want to lose you to the claws of the surface world.

He would have volunteered to come with you, to make sure you were safe, but one look from Namora was all he needed to know that he was needed in the council in just a few moments.

He sighed. There was no stopping you when you had your mind set on a task.

“Stay safe.” He gently held the back of your head and ducked down to meet your forehead. You hummed and closed your eyes, squeezing his hand in assurance.

“You sound as if I am going to war,” you joked, “I shall return safe. I promise. It is not something that I have not done before.”

“You know your strengths, my daughter. But be wary, still. Negligence is the first sign of weakness,” he separated himself from you and turned towards the wall mounted with spears. He took one of his own and gave it to you, the vibranium of the weapon shimmering under the light of the luminescent algae. It felt balanced. Powerful. He then smiled, “and never forget your weapon.”

You chuckled and bowed your head in respect, the spear now by your side.

“Yes, father.”

K’uk’ulkan turns to Attuma and beckons him forth. The warrior obeyed with no hesitance and bowed before his king. You watched as your father nodded to himself and placed a hand on Attuma’s shoulder.

“She’s a bit of a handful, so look after her, Attuma.” You gawked at him.

“Father!”

“I will do as you say, in ajawo,” my king, he said. The warrior dared to look up and showed his conviction to his king, “I will keep her safe—even when she is a handful.”

“You did not have to agree with everything my father says!”

Namora cleared her throat and cheekily chimed in. “K'uk'ulkan is our king. Whatever he says we agree to, princesa.”

K’uk’ulkan ignored your huffs of protest and Namora’s silent laughter as he squinted at the man, the hand that lay on his shoulder now tightening in warning. Attuma held his ground and did not yield to his king’s hold. He knew the reason for his king’s aggression; it came from a place of protectiveness. You were his only daughter after all.

And Attuma was a man who held a century-long love for you, something that K’uk’ulkan wasn’t particularly fond of.

But you were too stubbornly attached to him that no scheme that K’uk’uklan thought of would separate the two of you. He was far too wrapped around your fingers to fully say no to your whims. The king’s only saving grace is the fact that you were far too oblivious to notice the affections of your own guard.

K’uk’ulkan felt a sliver of sympathy for Attuma. Just a tad bit.

He narrowed his eyes. “And there shall be no…detours along the way, understood? Keep the princess safe, no more than that.”

“Yes, in ajawo.” With a final nod, K'uk'ulkan released his grip from his warrior's soldiers and bid a final farewell before being led out by Namora to the depths of Talokan. She gave Attuma a knowing glance and bowed her head before you.

“Be careful, princesa. The world will incur K'uk'ulkan's wrath if you return scathed.” She joked. But knowing your father, you did not doubt that he would burn the world if you would come back harmed in any way; more reasons for you to stay careful for your visit.

You smiled. “I will be careful, Namora. Do not worry. I have Attuma with me as well.”

She nodded and followed after her king to the water, now disappearing into your view. You faced Attuma and gave him a grin.

“Let's go visit the surface.”

You knew the underwater caves like the back of your hand. You weaved through the dark waters, greeting the guards hidden by the rocks. They bowed their heads and regarded you with the gesture of your people, a courtesy fit only for the daughter of their god and king.

You smiled to yourself when Attuma swam forward when sunlight peeked through the entrance of the surface, his spear drawn and ready by his side. He looked so focused and attentive, his whole body on high alert. You giggled as you reached him and held his hand, squeezing it tightly while looking into his eyes.

“You are too stiff. Nothing will harm us here.” You told him. He furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head.

“I am your aide. It is only natural for me, in princesa.”

“I only wish for you to be at ease, Attuma,” you tugged him to the direction of the light, the sun now making itself known to the both of you. Attuma squinted at the sudden brightness; he wasn’t used to seeing something as intense as the real sun, after all. It was his first time visiting the surface world, “you will love the sights, I promise you.”

Attuma felt wrong to be swimming beside you like you were equals. No aide of the high blood of Talokan should even dare to swim in stride beside a warrior who bore no rank. But by your side, he felt safe and welcomed.

He did not feel fear despite it being the first time he had ever visited the surface world. Rather, he felt it to be…intimate, in a way. You trusted him wholeheartedly, put your safety in his hands as you ventured outside the safety of your own kingdom, and shared the experience that he knew to be significant to you even if you did not tell anyone your sentiments.

But he knew. He always knew.

And he would protect you in great fealty as you explore the land that you so loved, even though he knew it would anger his own king to grant your taboo affection for the surface world.

Away from the prying eyes of the other Talokanil, he allowed himself to indulge in his selfish desires and swam closer to you; your shoulders almost touching, hands tightly intertwined, and his heart finally free of the formalities that came with being your guard.

He let himself become a man whose soul reached out to you in longing.

Your heads broke through the water and were hit by the rays of the golden sun. You let Attuma adjust to the light for a few moments, his hands shielding his eyes as he tried to view the sun from between his fingers. You watched his skin slowly turn blue as the air hit his skin, and you had to smile ever so slightly as you watched him marvel at the green forests just across the beach.

“Your mask.” You reminded him, the hand that was intertwined with his tightening in your hold. He nodded albeit meekly, seemingly embarrassed to have forgotten to equip himself in the midst of his awe, and let go of your hand to make sure his mask was secure.

Attuma already missed the warmth as soon as he willed himself to part from you in a respectful distance, now aware how shameless he was to have succumbed to his own desires.

You guided him to the rocks that overlooked the beach, just by the edge of the corals that your people have grown to create a border for those who visited the surface. It was a reminder on how you were never truly free to roam the surface and discover the riches beyond your own kingdom.

The stories your father had told you plagued your mind, but beyond the violence that your forefathers have witnessed, robbed of the land that was yours by birthright, you wanted to see for yourself the motherland that your grandmother loved. You were angry at the surface dwellers, yes. You raged at the thought of the conquistadors that tainted your ancestral home.

But you never did loathe the surface. You just wanted to connect to the land of your ancestors that you were stripped of.

You were broken from your thoughts when you heard the squelch of water on rock. You looked beside you to see Attuma in full attention, his visage that of a man in full guard. You would have laughed if you saw him so serious in the midst of such a peaceful afternoon, but you knew how much his duty to you and your king meant to him.

Attuma stood by your side whilst you leaned back and rested your feet on the water. You patted the space beside you, but he shook his head. You pouted.

“Join me to rest. You are not bound by the rules of my father here,” you told him, your face cracking into a mischievous smile, “be at ease, Attuma.”

“Is that an order?” He gave you a glance, his eyes twinkling under the sun. Only now did you appreciate his dark gaze. It was as intense as it was full of life. You giggled and patted the empty space beside you once again.

“A request.”

He stared at you for a few moments, his eyes locking into yours and sending shivers down your spine. You held his gaze, the water on your skin turning cold when the breeze hit your flesh. With a huff, he put down his spear and sat next to you, his hand dangerously close to your own.

“If you’ll allow me.”

In silence did you bask in the beauty of the faraway beach that should have been inherited to you by your ancestors. The lands that stretched across the plains and the jungles of vivid colors would have been yours to rule by your father’s side. It pained you to know that you cannot even set foot on those beaches.

It was the order of your father. The order of your king.

An order to protect you from the surface dwellers that took your grandmother from him.

It only served to remind you that—despite the feathered ankles that promised you freedom—you were caged in this lonely corner of the earth, away from the adventures that you wanted to experience in full.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” You asked your guard, your eyes following the birds that idly preened themselves on the branches. Attuma stared at you from the corner of his eyes, his lips turning into a smile as you leaned forward in interest.

“Quite so.” His heart skipped a beat when your eyes twinkled in amazement, your gaze never wandering from the land.

“Would it be shameless of me to long for the surface?” You asked him suddenly. Attuma shook his head quickly.

“Never.”

“Speak your mind. I did not ask you to indulge me and curry my favor,” you sighed and wrought your fingers together, your hand now leaving the proximity of your guard’s own, “I ask you for counsel, Attuma. You are one of the few people that I trust.”

Attuma was silent as he mulled over your question. An aide to the heir of the throne must only listen and follow their whims. The will of their masters were the will of their followers; he dare not disobey such courtesy.

But in the freedom of the duty that binded him to such rules by your order, he granted himself full autonomy.

“It might be so, in princesa,” you looked at him curiously. He held the urge to submit to you, to take back the words of his own opinion, and continued on, “you are the heir to Talokan, the nation built on the suffering of our ancestors who fled the land to hide in the sea. To long for the surface is a defiance to their dying will.”

“But we were robbed of our ancestral lands. What if I long to get it back? To let our people walk in the motherland that we once came from? To let them see this; the beauty that they were deprived of when we were chased off our own inheritance?” “Then you should be prepared for war.”

He looked directly into your eyes, ones that held such young wisdom and hope. But he knew from the countless battles he fought that to reclaim the stolen land you wished to rule is to declare a fight that you were far too merciful to lead.

“To reclaim the right that we once owned…you must be ready to shed blood; both the blood of the surface and the blood of your people. But to declare battle you must reveal our nation. Our king’s will shall not allow such a thing.”

Attuma watched as you lowered your head, trapped in the swirl of your thoughts as you continued to deliberate the weight of his words. He flagrantly allowed himself to reach for your hand first, draw circles on the back of your hand tenderly, and scooted himself closer so his hulking gait would protect you from the prying eyes of the world.

You squeezed his hand with yours, your breath stuttering at your next words.

“And what if I still desire to reclaim our land back, Attuma?” You looked up and held his gaze, your eyes now steeling itself to one of conviction.

He smiled.

“Then I shall shed blood for your will, in princesa.”

You searched for any sort of hesitation in his strong features, to try and coax out any sort of loose ends of his loyalty. But you saw nothing of such sort; there only lay pure faith to your very existence, one that you recognize as unyielding.

You stared at him right in the eye. It was piercing, cold. One that beckoned utmost honesty from your aide. It was not a simple decision to make—even the words you have uttered this very moment would be considered blasphemous. Outright treacherous.

“Even if it means to defy the orders of your king?”

He did not waver as he replied.

“You are the one that I serve. My loyalty lies with you.” He took his spear and knelt before you, his one knee digging into the rock in which you lay. He pierced his weapon down into the earth, took your hand to rest upon his cheek, and presented himself to the utmost fidelity.

“Have you not sworn your service under the name of my father?”

“I have sworn nothing,” he practically growled, his grip on his spear tightening, “I long for nothing more than to swear my piety to you. I am indebted to K’uk’ulkan; I revere him as my god and king. Yet I cannot stand the thought of offering my loyalties to anyone else but you.”

You felt your heart throb against your chest, your eyes stinging with wet tears. It was a feeling foreign to you. The waves usually wipe your tears away at the bottom of the sea. But here on land, you wore your heart on your sleeve. It was an overwhelming feeling, one that urged you to cover your mouth to stifle your joyous sobs.

In the face of the man you had grown up with, in the presence of such undying loyalty did you fail to mask your elation. Yet your head was muddled with confusion—why was he always so devoted to you? Why would he risk being cast out when your father still sits on the throne and swears his loyalties to you? Why was he so willing to defy the orders of his king for your selfish whims?

You knew the weight of a warrior's oath. It was not something to be taken lightly. Warriors would swear upon the names of leaders who have fought countless battles, led the charge to warfare, and those who were considered gods like your father.

You were none of those.

You were not your father.

“Why?” You asked him, your hands trembling against his cheek. “Compared to my father, I am nothing. Why would you swear your loyalty to me when I have nothing to give you in return? It will still be years—centuries, even—before I could inherit the throne and bear the title of queen mother. So why?”

Silence fell between the two of you, the waves of the high afternoon playing the symphonies of its motherlands. You felt like you were suffocating despite the beauty that surrounded you while you waited for him to speak.

Finally, Attuma slowly raised his head and kissed the palm of your hand. It brought a wave of heat from the back of your neck to your cheeks, and even the tips of your pointed ears warmed at the gesture.

“Will you allow me to speak out of turn?” He asked you, his voice uncharacteristically soft. You blinked back the tears that obscured your vision and nodded.

“Speak your mind, Attuma.”

He breathed in a stuttering breath, the hand that held yours tightening and trembling. It made you nervous; a warrior such as he, the embodiment of a shield that protects his nation, stuttered and shook in your hold. He could overpower you at any second, purge the world of your existence, but here he was, weak and vulnerable in your presence.

He locked eyes with you, those gorgeous oaken eyes stared deep into your very being without reservation. You found yourself feeling faint, as if you have fallen into a pleasant trap that you weren’t too keen on getting out of.

And with a steady voice he said;

“I love you, in princesa. I always have since we were children. I only breathe to serve you, only live to please you. If you so asked me to burn the world and slay your enemies, then I will show you the ashes of their bones on a jaden chest. If you asked me to become your shield, then I shall parry every blade for you and protect you with my last breath. If you asked me to become your spear, then the blood of your foes shall dye the sea in red…”

He paused as he drew closer, the heat of his body enveloping you in a sensation of great adoration. He gripped your hand tighter, his lips lingering on your palms as he leaned further into your touch.

“...and if you asked me to become your beloved, then I will become the most faithful man you would ever lay your eyes upon—for your joys are my joys, and your sorrows are mine to bear.”

You felt your throat constrict, the heat from your face now traveling down to the tips of your fingers down to the very ends of your feathered ankles. Your wings bristled and shook, your breath hitching at every breath, and you felt the sudden urge to look away from those unwavering eyes. But the gravity of his own magnetism was enough to drive you back in; to never tear your gaze away from the man that confessed his love for you.

Though this begs the question; did you love him back?

Attuma must have misunderstood your silence for rejection, so he slowly removed your hands from his cheeks and bowed his head in shame.

“I have spoken out of turn. I apologize,” he held his spear tightly, but he never removed himself from his bow—a sign of his submission to you, “whether or not you accept my feelings, I will still stay by your side. I will serve under you, make my oath in the witness of K’uk’ulkan of my loyalty to you. I will ask for nothing more.”

Your heart broke at how easily it was for him to apologize. No person should ever apologize for the feelings that they bear. It only proved how devoted the great warrior was to you; for him to present his feelings of love to you and still offer his loyalty in the face of rejection.

You recounted the days of your youth down to the decades worth of memories with him. How could you have been so blind to have ignored the signs of his affections? How blinded were you with your duties that you allowed yourself to turn away from the subtle declarations of his feelings for you?

How foolish were you to actually dismiss your own feelings for him? You love Attuma. You always have.

“Why have you not said anything in the century we have been together?” You asked him, your voice low and meek. You did not want to lose the warmth of his skin, so you gently lifted his head with both of your hands and let him meet your eyes.

You saw the gaze of your warrior waver.

“My duty is to protect you. How dare I be so impertinent as to bear feelings for the daughter of my own king?”

You shook your head and leaned in to rest your forehead against his. You heard the clatter of his vibranium spear on the rocks and into the water below. But you simply did not care at that moment.

“You are never impertinent, not when I bear the same love for you as you have for me.”

You heard his breath hitch. The hands that lay dutifully to his side now flying up to your face and hold your cheeks so delicately. In the large and dependable hands of your warrior did you feel safe and loved. It was unlike the other times that he had shown you affection when you were merely just friends.

What were you now, you wondered, now that you and him share the same feelings.

In that moment of solace did Attuma realize his place, but he did not dare remove his hands from you. He ghosted his fingers over your pointed ears, tangled his hands with your wet hair, and held you tight like you were the most precious thing in the sea.

He was but a mere warrior—a shameless peasant whose hands had brazenly touched the skin of his master.

“I am just a warrior without a title. You cannot possibly love me as I am.”

“But I do. I just have never realized it sooner, in yakunaj.” My love, an endearment that made Attuma’s heart flutter and weak against your hands.

“And when we are in the eyes of scrutiny, what then should you do?”

“It matters not, my dear warrior.”

“But your majesty—!”

“Am I not the heir to the throne of Talokan? Am I not the princess whose rule is imminent in the witness of your king? Of whom I shall love is a matter of my own choice that not even the feathered serpent god could refute.”

You drew in closer and wrapped your arms around him. He was strong and powerful, but in your arms did he surrender himself. He was not the warrior you knew him to be. In your arms, he was just a man who held a century worth of ardor.

“I dare not disgrace you, in princesa. I have nothing in my name but the battles that I have fought as a mere soldier.”

He removed himself from you and held you tenderly by the cheeks. You leaned against his touch, completely surrendering to the feelings that you have long since ignored since the beginning. He inched himself closer and continued to speak with great affection.

“But if I would be so bold to ask for you to wait; wait for me to garner titles of my own, build the foundations of my exploits, and ask you again to become mine, would you be so merciful as to grant such a plea?”

You stared at his resolve, the gaze of the man you have realized you have loved now asking you for the mercy to wait. You cupped his strong jaw and caressed his cheek with your thumb as you said;

“I will grant you mercy, in yakunaj, only if you fulfill my wish.”

He became alert, his body ready to grant your desires.

“Anything, in princesa. Anything for your majesty.”

“Then I wish for you to call me by my name, I beg you. We bear more than just pleasantries of warrior and royal.”

He gave you a smile, one that even his mask could not hide, and leaned in to touch his forehead against yours.

“Is that an order?”

You smiled.

“A request.”

It was merely a few decades later that the great capital city of Talokan was abuzz with the whispers of a great blessing bestowed upon their royal heir. It lit the fire of pride within the citizens of the hidden nation, a pride that K’uk’ulkan wore with high regard as he descended to present himself on the forefront of his throne.

Their darling princess, the radiant pearl of the deep sea, was ready to assume the throne of K’uk’ulkan’s legacy.

As your citizens have revered your father as the god king of your people, they have revered you as the same; a deity whose hands extended to the waters to create a shield of protection, a divine being whose mercy radiates the warmth of a thousand suns, the daughter of the feathered serpent god whose wings carried you through the winds of battle through the century. Your chest bloomed with unending bliss when you realized you've lived up to the name of your father—an entity that you've molded yourself into the likeness of.

You had held the expectations of the name of K’uk’ulkan to your very heart, and you were thrilled at the fact that your father had acknowledged your efforts in the witness of your people.

Your kingdom cheered and praised your name as you descended into the throne room from above, the feathered headpiece similar to your father’s symbolizing your authority as heir apparent of Talokan. Your father extended his hand for you to take, and you had done so with such grace befitting of your title as radiant pearl of the sea.

And there he had presented you with a throne of your own, just below the teeth of the monster of the deep oceans that he had slain many years ago. It was decorated with the finest of jade, vibranium, and gold with the likeness of an open shell. Compared to his throne that was decorated with the splendor of his long battles, yours was the embodiment of the abundant riches of your nation.

It was a symbol, perhaps, that the toil of your father’s work had borne fruit of great wealth to Talokan and passed down to the generations that would come next.

The radiant pearl of the sea had finally assumed her reign as heir apparent after a century of her rule by the feathered serpent god’s side, and there was no one in the kingdom who would oppose to the majesty of K’uk’ulkan’s daughter—not because she had the blood of their king in her veins and the feathered ankles that proved her divine lineage—but because of her love for her people and the duties that she had so diligently carried with grace.

K’uk’ulkan swam to your side and guided you to rest upon your new throne. It was a new feeling for you, one that could not compare to the childish wonder that you had just sitting on the lap of your father when you were still a wee babe. In the high seat of your throne did you overlook the citizens that had adored you, watched as they bowed their heads and put their hands in the likeness of a serpent’s mouth as respect to your inauguration.

As much as you loved to see your people acknowledge you, you could not find a glimpse of your best friend and secret lover. To you, their opinions were the only ones that mattered. It would not feel as joyous as it is if they were not to witness your greatest achievements.

Where were they, you wondered. They promised to be here in time for your ceremony.

“Something troubles you, in waal.” your father beside you, the feathers from his headpiece tickling the sides of your cheek. You gave him a smile, one that masked your worries, and found comfort in the hands that gripped yours reassuringly.

“Namora and Attuma are not here,” you supplied him, your eyes scanning the crowd of your people, “I worry for them. They promised they would come.”

K’uk’ulkan smiles and brings his hand to caress the base of your neck tenderly and rest his decorated forehead on your own. Your breath, which you didn’t realize had become labored, instantly calmed at the mere comfort of your father.

“Quell your nerves, my daughter. They will come.” With a knowing smile, your father separated himself from you and swam up to sit in the jaws of his own throne. The people all cheered while chanting the words of praise to Talokan’s honor.

K’uk’ulkan puts his hand up slowly and everyone falls into a hush. The air was still buzzing, the water under your command feeling the energy of everyone’s bated breaths as they awaited the words of their king.

“We honor the place of my only child as the rightful heir of Talokan. She has proven herself worthy of such a title for a century, and the seas have blessed us with such excellence that no one could dare defy. The future of Talokan is bright.”

Your people cheered and hollered, yet your eyes still strain to find your best friend and lover. You tried your best not to feel upset, but you felt a painful twist on your heart.

Where were they? It was unlike them to break their promises, especially your beloved warrior, Attuma.

“Not only do we celebrate the coronation of my daughter’s place in my council, but we celebrate the oath of our two new generals.” your father continued, your head snapping up at the familiar silhouette of your secret lover up the grand entrance of your underwater throne room. Your heart settled and you smiled in great pride as your father presented them at last.

“Namora and Attuma, the new grand generals of Talokan.”

They extruded such power as they descended ever so slowly, the light of the vibranium sun creating a halo of light around their bodies. They wore new armor that suited their character; the likeness of the spines of a lionfish adorned the body of your best friend, Namora, and the skull of a hammerhead shark and the spikes of its teeth littering every crevice of Attuma’s plated armor. Both of them held their respective weapons made of vibranium, and you could only smile at how proud you were for them.

You couldn't help but ogle at the sight of your warrior. You had kept your word and waited for him to finally gather his own accomplishments before asking for your hand. But that did not stop you from sneaking off and relishing yourselves in each other’s company. No one had ever suspected anything yet, but you gathered that your people were still under the impression that Attuma only bears one-sided love for you.

Oh your poor love, you didn’t mean to make him wait for so long.

You wondered when he would finally ask for your hand, to finally make your blooming romance known to your father and your citizens. It filled you with warmth just thinking about the possibilities.

You and Attuma locked eyes as soon as they had finished their descent, his eyes raking across your figure sat on your jeweled throne. He felt the need to kiss you right then and there, a privilege he had not yet taken across the decades of your secret romance in respect to his promise. He dared not touch you so inappropriately when you were not yet his, but he was sure to finally claim you as his own.

You were a jewel in Attuma’s eyes. A gem fit to be heralded around in great praise to your charm. Although your beauty spoke wonders of your outward appearance, you were a strong warrior, maybe even as strong as Namora. You are wise like your father, and you cared for your kingdom in the ways that a mother would.

You were crowned princess of Talokan, heir to the throne of K’uk’ulkan’s majesty, and the future queen mother of your nation.

Attuma could not even begin to describe in words such a blessing that fell into his hands so tenderly.

As soon as they were done taking their oath, bowed before you and K’uk’ulkan to swear their undying fidelity to your nation of Talokan, Attuma and Namora shared one look before your warrior ascended alone, careful to keep his gait below your eyes and on the feet of your throne. Your people fell into a hush, the momentary celebration ceasing to wait for Attuma’s next words.

“In princesa,” he started, his eyes looking up to lock eyes with your father, “K’uk’ulkan. If I may speak.”

“Attuma,” he regarded the warrior, his head held high in authority, “what do you wish to say?”

“My fealty lies with no one but the princess,” he bowed low and presented presented his spear by the jewels that adorned your throne, “the oath I shall take is one reserved to be of service of her, and if she wills me to serve under you, K’uk’ulkan, then I shall do so with no question.”

You waited with bated breath as your father stood from his throne and descended to stand in front of your warrior. Your heart thumped in your chest as you saw your father inch closer to him, his hand now resting on his shoulders and urging Attuma to rise.

“You have done a great deal for the name of my daughter, but the decision is hers to make.” K’uk’ulkan started, his voice carrying nothing but tender command. He turned towards you and beckoned you forward. You did so without question and swam beside your father.

“Do you accept his oath, in waal?”

There was no other answer for such a question. It was something that you had dreamed of since the beginning of your blossoming romance, the fantasy that you had always dreamed to come into fruition.

With a smile that would outshine the stars of the night, you eagerly replied.

“I shall accept your oath with open arms, Attuma. My dear warrior.”

Your people broke into joyous cheers as Attuma rose from his bow. You turned to pick the spear by the feet of your throne and presented it to him with a proud grin. He replied in kind, kissing the vibranium shaft that touched your hand as soon as he had received it. Heat traveled up your neck and into the tips of your pointed ears at the gesture, your fingers wringing together in bashful fluster.

K’uk’ulkan smiled at the exchange, but he could not help but urge you away from the warrior and back to your throne. He could not help himself—you were far too precious to be in the presence of a man who fancied you all his life.

The king turned to Attuma and regarded him with a nod and gesture of Talokan’s respect, the warrior replying in kind.

“Serve her well, Attuma.”

Before K’uk’ulkan could return to his throne, Attuma rose high and proud, brandishing his weapon only he could ever wield with such power. A show of strength, if you will, that left the people at awe at the display of his prowess.

“My king! If I may be so bold, I have something to ask of you.” He declared, his voice loud and strong. Your brows furrowed in confusion at such a statement; what else did Attuma need when he had already pledged his service to you?

You held the urge to giggle when your father turned with an amused chuckle of his own.

“What is it?”

Attuma turned towards you, the both of you locking eyes. And in that moment, he sent you an affectionate grin.

And then realization hit you.

He wasn’t going to—!

“I wish for your permission to court your daughter, the princess.” Murmurs and excited gasps spread across the hall. You see Namora grinning to herself staring at Attuma, impressed. Your cheeks burned with heat, your chest pounding at how incredibly mad Attuma was for declaring something as bold as a courting during your coronation as crown heir.

But it was something that you absolutely loved about your warrior, no matter how insane he was to declare his desire to court you in front of the entire kingdom.

Your father stiffened, his eyes steeled and ready to pounce at Attuma. He had to hold himself back—there was no reason for him to needlessly attack his finest warrior just because he expressed his desire to court you. He could not even dismiss such thought; the titles and the achievements of Attuma held far more worth than any man in Talokan.

From where it stands, and with your close relationship with the warrior, he was by far the only man worthy of your affection.

And so, with a reluctance that held every possible threat in the world, K’uk’ulkan replied.

“Prove to me your worth, Attuma, for the radiant pearl of the sea does not need an incompetent suitor to court her.”

“Father!” You hissed quietly. You felt your father’s animosity course through you in waves. You had to resist the urge to groan and sigh; he was so protective of you.

But Attuma did not seem phased as he spoke steadily.

“By your will, K’uk’ulkan.”

In the eyes of your people did you swim beside your father and held his arm reassuringly. His steely gaze finally fell as he looked at you, and you allowed yourself to swim to the level of his ears and whisper, “Please be gentle with Attuma, father. I also bear feelings for him.”

He looked at you like he was betrayed, but he was not surprised. How could you not have told him about your budding feelings for the warrior?

Then again, he knew the throes of a woman when it came to sharing their romantic feelings, so he did not blame you for keeping it a secret from him, your own father.

“How long have you known?”

“A few decades,” you smiled sheepishly, “do not be so hard on the warrior that I have chosen. He means it in good faith, and he has done nothing to cross any boundaries set by your command.”

“Are you sure?”

“I swear it upon my name and crown, father.”

Your father pondered on your words for a little while longer and resigned with a sigh. You pressed your forehead against your father’s and giggled.

“Thank you for your leniency, my king.”

You separated yourself from your father and swam forward to Attuma. He gave you a cheeky grin, one that screamed unapologetic mischief. You shook your head, amused as his antics, as you raised your hand to cup his cheek.

“My father has given his word; prove to him that you are worthy of my hand so we will be together, my dear warrior.”

He dared cup your hands that feathered along his strong jaw and leaned into your touch. You could feel your father’s piercing stare, but the both of you ignored it, too engrossed in your own little world in the watchful eyes of your nation.

“Is that an order?” He asked you, his eyes boring into yours with such intensity that would have sent you immediately to your knees.

You leaned in close until your lips met the base of his mighty headpiece, the jagged teeth of the hammerhead shark that he had slain digging firmly into the skin of his forehead. When you parted, you stared into his eyes; the eyes that held nothing but veneration to your glorious name.

And with a tender whisper to your beloved, you replied.

“A request.”

Anyone up for a Part 2? >:))

Taglist: @haideehaids @xnodamsel

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axailslink · 2 years ago

Text

Cocky Bitch

Stud!Riri Williams x poc FEM reader

Summary: you were talking like you were big and bold and now Riri wants you to be bold in front of her. She calls you and you tell her your true thoughts.

You're a giggling mess as you look at your phone and send the message you've been pondering on for about a good five minutes. You’d paced the room for a while in hopes that you'd send it eventually but it took a while Riri ain't one to play around with you especially if you are trying to rile her up. You take a deep breath and send it with a wide smile on your face as you do so.

you keep doing all this talking when you could really be putting your mouth to better use.

You never received a message back and your anxiety is off the walls. This ain't the first time you've texted her something like this so why is she not answering? Before you can let yourself get too in your thoughts and feelings there's a knock on your dorm room door you're quick to answer it as you were already standing. Behind the door a smiling Riri is revealed and you immediately try to close it back but she's already let herself in. "So what was with all that I should put my mouth to better use talk? Cause I'm here I brushed my teeth, I filed my nails down and I got my book bag. So what was up with all that shit you were saying?" You laugh and shrug “I was just playing it ain’t even that serious” Riri nods and watches as you try to put some distance between you and her but she doesn’t let you get far because she grabs you by your waist keeping you within kissing distance. “Tell the truth you knew you weren't playing. We both know you weren't playing, matter of fact I’m pretty sure you get off to the sound of my voice so if you about it I’m about it.”

Oh this cocky bitch.

She’s so hot yet she’s so cocky and arrogant but why the fuck does she wear it so well? You’re a little annoyed now simply because she’s right you could get off to the thought and sound of her. It's disgusting but if this theory were tested it would be true. “Get off to the sound of your voice?” she nods as she licks her lips and lets her eyes run down your form, her gaze perverted as if she can see right through your clothing. Your stomach does backflips but you’re trying to prove that she’s a cocky bitch right now so now is not the time to fold instead you mumble “and what makes you think that?” She smiles before she speaks because she knows she’s about to read you down to the last page. “I mean maybe it’s the way when we’re on the phone approximately around twelve I start to get sleepy so I nod off and you go “baby talk to me” and I’m just humming as a reply but when I do speak I don’t have much energy… However I am wide awake when I hear you start to whimper my name or when you suddenly mute yourself and I can no longer hear that raggedy ass fan in the background. So yeah I know you could get off on just my voice, maybe even just the thought of me.” You want to disagree but why lie about something she already knows the truth about? You stand there as still as a statue until she sits her bag down beside your feet and it thuds against the ground bringing you back to reality.

“Since you know so much how about you go sit down. You know I think about you when I touch myself but you don’t know what I’m imagining so I confess…” You gently push Riri towards your bed while you lock your door “I imagine you underneath me being as pretty as you are right now except you’re crying from the overstimulation this whole cocky facade you put on it’s gone. I want to get rid of it. I want to see you in shambles underneath me. Would you like to be in shambles underneath me?” Riri just sits on the edge of your bed not expecting such words to come out of your mouth not once have you ever said anything of the sort to her about this little fantasy of yours. It makes her look at you differently. She's never had anyone talk to her the way you just had and she’s interested she wants to know more about these little fantasies of yours. Maybe even experience them. “I asked a question. Riri I would love an answer in return” Riri nods but she’s finding it hard to answer because how would she? What should she say? What should she do?

“Yeah.”

A/n: as y'all know my FICS do not be edited well so if you see something confusing let me know via messaging I'll fix it.

Taglist:

@verachii

@mocha-aya

@shuriszn

@lolas-bunny

@louderfortheback

@lucillele

@shuri-lover

@quintessencewrites

@zestgodtj

@yamsthoughts

@sokkasbae255

@saintwrld

@tuesdaylovesu

@rxcently

@yvxmpire

@lunax0654

@homie0sapien

@karimwillia

@adeola-the-explorer

@garbagesleepschedule

@bratydoll

@gubrii

@vampphasecomplete

@ctrl-liah

@trixielwt

@6-noir

@annoyingtidalwavequeen

@atssukoo

@shuri-my-love

@inmyheadimobsessed

@letitias-fav

@rxcently

@iwillbiteabitch

@malltake12

@mxyx-rx444

@kiwidreamersstuff

@secretgyals

@awarm-sundaynight

@shurisnewbabymomma

@shurisbigtoe

@darkangelchronicles

@writesbyriri

@locoforshuri

@mbakuetshurisprincess

@sleepyshuri

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h3k3t · 2 years ago

Text

𐌂𐌀𐌋𐌙𐌐𐌔Ꝋ

🐚𝕾𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀᴠᴇꜱ ʙʀɪɴɢ ᴜɴᴇxᴘᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ɢɪꜰᴛꜱ, ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ꜰᴏʀɢᴏᴛᴛᴇɴ 🐚𝕻𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: ɴᴀᴍᴏʀᴀ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ 🐚𝕲𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: ᴘᴜʀᴇ ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ ᴅɴɪ! 🐚𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖘: ɴᴏ ʙᴇᴛᴀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ (ᴘʀᴏʙᴀʙʟʏ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ɢʀᴀᴍᴍᴀʀ ᴇʀʀᴏʀꜱ), ɴᴏɴ-ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪꜰɪᴄ ᴛɪᴍᴇ, ɴᴏ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴏꜰ ʏ/ɴ, ɴᴏ ᴘʜʏꜱɪᴄᴀʟ ᴏʀ ᴇᴛʜɴɪᴄ ᴅᴇꜱᴄʀɪᴘᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ɴᴏ-ꜱᴘᴏɪʟᴇʀ, ᴏʀᴀʟ ꜱᴇx, ꜱᴇx ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇᴀᴄʜ, ᴛᴇᴀꜱɪɴɢ, ᴇᴅɢɪɴɢ, ᴄʟɪᴛ ꜱʟᴀᴘᴘɪɴɢ, ꜰɪɴɢᴇʀɪɴɢ, ᴘʀᴏʙᴀʙʟʏ ɪɴᴀᴄᴄᴜʀᴀᴛᴇ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ (ɪ ᴜꜱᴇᴅ ᴀ ʏᴜᴄᴀᴛᴇᴄ ᴍᴀʏᴀɴ ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴏʀ, ʜᴏᴘᴇ ɪᴛ'ꜱ ʀɪɢʜᴛ), ɴᴀᴍᴏʀᴀ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ɴᴀᴍᴏʀᴀ, ᴀ ʙɪᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴀʀᴋ!ɴᴀᴍᴏʀᴀ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱQᴜɪɴᴛ, ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴀ ᴛᴀʟᴏᴋᴀɴɪʟ ᴡᴀʀʀɪᴏʀ ʟᴏᴏᴋɪɴɢ ꜰᴏʀ ʜᴇʀ ᴍᴀᴛᴇ.

You promised yourself to go on a spiritual journey. Abandon the gray and monotonous high walls of the city, the hustle and bustle of the main streets and probably the constant calls from your boss and your mother wondering what happened to you, letting time stand still for a month or so, let the your body stopped so you could enjoy those hours you took too long to do your every duty as best you could. Even your well-being was your duty after all, and taking some savings and renting a simple house in a delightful village on the shores of the Atlantic near Michoacan seemed like the right solution to reconnect with the beauty and peace of mother nature. You had never minded immersing yourself in unspoiled nature, letting yourself be cradled by those crumbs of the world's purity, digging up out of mere curiosity the little secrets it hid and which, at the same time, it offered to the bravest; certainly you would never have thought that in that small village stories were told of a people who protected the salty and crystalline waters that kissed the white and sandy shores of the beaches.

It was a group of elderly women who told you about it, almost as a warning, rather than a story for tourists. They had reminded you not to venture where the waters got deeper, not to disturb the sea and the creatures that lived there. The guardians were excellent sentinels in protecting that territory, but very strict with those who crossed certain borders.

You had always liked to hear and treasure the legends of local folklore, because that was how you had taken the words of those old ladies, as a legend. Perhaps some local fishermen had invented such stories to keep away the more annoying tourists, in fact some of them had no respect for both the local fauna and flora, it had to be like this. But you wouldn't have been a problem, you just wanted to take a walk on the seafront, accompanied by the moon, perhaps looking for some inspiration for your next book to write.

Your bare feet sank into the sand, still warm from the heat accumulated over an entire day, while a light sundress softly covered your body up to mid-thigh. The night wind caressed your hair and your skin, the colorful fabric of your dress fluttered, followed by your rocking sandals that you held in one hand. Absolute silence reigned around you, cradled by the sound of the waves and the palm leaves that intertwined and collided with each other. Your steps took you away from that village, until you found a wooden pier built in a modest and crude way, to which a boat with an oar was tied. With the hope that some wooden beam would not give way, causing you to fall disastrously into the icy sea water, with a careful step you reached the end of the pier, sitting on the edge and letting your feet immerse themselves in the water, providing you with a pleasant relief. It was hard to admit it, but perhaps you had managed to find your happy place in the world, a place of peace, where any possible negativity that had accompanied you to that remote Caribbean tourist territory was now only a distant memory. If your boss didn't have the habit of exploiting you so much, you could have asked permission for an immersive experience in this place, to find inspiration for the next novel faster.

Shaking your head, you left the idea where it was born. It would never have happened, you admitted disconsolately as you kicked the waves with your feet trying without success to make them change direction, just like a child would have done. Your gaze was lost in the starry sky and letting a sigh escape you made it fall towards the sea and the horizon. It was calm, flat as a sheet of glass, so clear that your face twisted in puzzlement as I spotted a small silhouette on the horizon. You originally thought it was a palm branch floating unusually on the surface, as it was backlit by a full moon. But then the shape began to advance, slowly, carefully, like a feline ready to attack, and as it got closer to the shore, you could notice what was the shape of a head, a human head floating, adorned from a tribal headdress. No, that couldn't be possible. How could a head float in such a calm sea without you noticing it? They couldn't have followed you during your walk, perhaps the villagers wanted to make another tourist of that earthly paradise the victim of a bad joke? Or maybe it was your suggestion, your usual vivid imagination? Whatever answer it was, it was obvious that it was time to go home and get out of the way, while you were in time. All you had to do was get up, turn around and walk briskly back without attracting any more unwanted attention, it was the middle of the night and it wasn't wise to stay that long alone in an unfamiliar place, however… Your body seems to disobey your orders. As if you were the victim of a spell, your feet seemed to have cemented themselves in the sea water, while your eyes could not tear themselves away from the hypnotic shape which in the meantime had almost reached the dock. You wanted to say anything, anything, but your breath stayed in your throat and your mouth remained open without uttering a syllable. There was something deeply wrong with what was happening right now, something your mind couldn't comprehend, but you knew that if you were to have any chance of waking up the next morning alive and well you absolutely had to find a way to dislodge all instant.

What appeared to be the figure of a young woman seemed to slowly show the body up to the collarbone, her face was soft adorned by a pair of thick dark eyebrows, drawn together in a frown and menacing expression, the previously incomprehensible headgear now gave the idea of being covered in feathers…no, the feathers would be wet, that material seemed waterproof, like the fins of an unknown tropical fish. But what accelerated your heartbeat the most was discovering that her skin was light blue like the waves of the sea that enveloped her and a turquoise mask covered her mouth and nose. May your common sense curse you for what you were about to deduce, but at this point it was fair to wonder if what the village elders had admonished you about was not just a stupid legend, but the reality…however absurd; Perhaps the sea really was the cradle of watchful sentinels who punished the intruders of their home.

Feeling a hand grabbing your ankle, with the intention of violently dragging you towards the water, harshly reminded you that the time for reflections was over and it was time to wake up and react. You thanked the last shred of lucidity left in your body that allowed you to hold on to a pier post with all your strength, while a terrified scream escaped from your mouth. Your determination didn't seem to make the woman give up, her grip was as strong as steel and painful as a dog's bite, her voice cursed in a language unknown to you, while you squirmed and tried to push her away, kicking her with foot still free. A menacing growl like that of a predator came out of that mask, low but firm, while a shiver probably of fear pierced your legs and back.

"Let me go! Please let me go!" you screamed, trying to drag you to the opposite side, holding on to the wooden slabs with your other hand, regardless of the splinters that sank into your fingertips.

“Ma' oksajóoltik le ba'ax je'el u páajtal a náachkunta'al teech ti' teen uts uchik” was an archaic language, unknown to your ears, but in that context it only gave a demonic aura to the woman or any damned being was that thing that wanted to drag you into the depths of the sea with it. In an attempt to land another kick, your foot struck full force on her mask, creating a slight crack. The young woman gasped and for a handful of seconds her grip on your left ankle loosened just enough to make you slip away, not before marking your skin with scratches, making you moan in pain. Without further delay you ran away from that pier, forgetting your sandals now fallen due to the hustle and bustle in the water, it didn't matter if you had to make the stone and dirt road up to your house with bare feet, you just wanted that creature to leave you in peace. As soon as you passed the last bump in the sand, you looked behind you for a moment, hoping that she had disappeared and wasn't following you…so it was. The woman had disappeared, swallowed up by the sea, as if nothing had ever happened. Maybe you were crazy…or maybe you should have heeded the admonitions of the elders.

It was sunset when you decided to go home the following day; It hadn't been an easy day, if you could call it that since you'd been lying between the sheets of your bed until after lunchtime and you'd spent the night before without sleeping a wink. Your mind was still immersed in that encounter you had that night, your skin still remembering the stinging burn from the scratch on your ankle, now intent on healing. Sleep had decided to abandon you in those long and tense night hours, and if by chance your heavy eyelids decided to close in exhaustion, they reopened at the slightest creak or rustle coming from outside your little house. The thought of finding that woman in front of your bed after having followed you overwhelmed you, filling you with a thousand questions and answers that were often more daunting than you had expected. You couldn't understand if what your eyes had seen was pure fantasy, probably anyone would have called you crazy, but that scratch, that mark that she had engraved on your skin, was the striking proof that she existed. It was flesh, bone and breath, and her frozen skin still seemed to caress your leg, leaving a suffocating lump in your throat as a shiver stopped between your thighs… It was fear, adrenaline, nothing more you kept telling yourself. You weren't sure that telling the old women of the village would have been a good idea, even if they had believed you, they probably would have said it was the right punishment for a nosy and disrespectful tourist like you; Perhaps it would have been wiser to put aside the idea of a relaxing holiday, abandon that mysterious place surrounded by unspoiled nature and paradise on earth and return to your everyday life, perhaps it was silly to think that you could find peace and relief for a moment in your existence.

The shouts of the village children, who gradually returned home from the beach, made you awaken from your restless thoughts, while your gaze turned to the clean beaches now kissed by the fiery and amber rays of the sunset, the Sun was gradually swallowed up by the sea, as well as your every little certainty that in the light no monster would be looking for you. Sighing and ready to get ready for yet another sleepless night, you approached the door of the house, however, finding something on the edge that left you speechless: Your sandals, the sandals you had lost during the night to escape the woman's grasp were right there in front of you.

One of the two must have broken in the uproar, but someone had thought of reconnecting the filaments by setting a small nugget of… jade in the middle? Was it jade? The first thing you did after catching them was look around, there was nobody there, people also seemed to have gone home, the fishermen had returned from their hard day's work and were intent on returning to their families with dinner to make. Taking a deep breath, you gathered courage and grabbing the knob of your door you opened it with a lightning click, ready to find the worst beast you could ever expect. But nothing but your unmade bed and what furnished your little house awaited you.

Standing at your doorstep, you wondered if some kind person in the village had found your sandals and brought them back to you, but you soon put that idea aside. No one had followed you that night on the beach, and above all who in such a humble though welcoming country could afford to adorn a sandal with a nugget of jade? Was it that woman? Maybe as an apology…Oh probably a trap. Thoughtfully you sat on the wooden stairs outside the entrance to your house, put on your sandals, only now noticing that the one with the jade had been placed on the sandal of your injured ankle. Your gaze returned again to the glimpse of the beach, wrapped in vegetation, partly pruned to create an exit from the village, the sun had now sunk, the sky was becoming increasingly gloomy, while from the windows of the modest houses around you appeared the flashes of the lights. You were sure that what you were about to do would be your last action alive, as well as being totally unconscious. But like Ulysses you felt the sea somehow calling to you, if it was the woman, or your curiosity had no idea, you knew that unlike the story of the Odyssey, your body was not tied to any mast of a ship , no one was going to stop you from jumping overboard at a siren's call.

Your mind had begun to cloud as soon as you passed the small avenue that led to the sea, as if to justify your foolish actions, together with your heart it was fluttering agitated, like a high school girl waiting for the arrival of her crush. Something in you wished she was hers, but what to tell her (if so) was still a mystery. Your fingers gripped the edges of the skirt of your sundress to ease the tension as your footsteps stopped. It was you, alone on that beach now accompanied by the first stars and the shy moon. You didn't know how far you were from the village, but only now did you feel as defenseless as if you were stark naked, a lamb ready to be sacrificed to some cruel deity. You swallowed praying that you would not die that night and at the same time you prayed that she…

"…You came?" your mouth spoke before your mind would let it, your tone low, too low to be sure she heard you. Her head had emerged from the water, far enough from the shore, for what emerged of her body was no more than her neck and shoulders. You didn't have the courage to repeat what you asked for, your hands gripped the edges of your sundress even more. She seemed to observe you, oblivious of that long silent space that separated you, perhaps she was working out the right move to make, as a shark or a tiger would have done. She decided to move closer to the shore, and you bit your tongue tenaciously to keep your body from retreating. As her body emerged from the water, your eyes studied what they hadn't managed to capture the previous time: on her torso there was a light armor of unknown material and of a dark color that covered her chest, while the shoulders were adorned with the same feathers/fins as the headdress and tied around the animal skull. The calves and forearms were clad in the same armour, leaving the muscular and toned shoulders and thighs uncovered, the hips encircled by a skirt partly made of armour, of those colorful fins and seaweed perhaps… But what caught your attention the most it was the conspicuous presence of jade in the woman's clothing, especially her earrings, which were large and hard to ignore.

"Look, I…" you bit your lip "I don't know if you can understand me…I just want to tell you that I didn't want to disturb your sea, I'm not a bad person" your hands let go of the skirt of the sundress and then stood up as a sign of surrender, along with your submissive gaze. The warrior scrutinized you frowning her thick dark brows, as if she wanted to tell you so many things, certainly not kind and friendly, but she decided that piercing you with her sharpest gaze sharper than the spear she brandished was enough of an answer. Her attentive eyes finally fell to your feet, noticing the sandals you were wearing, especially her pitch-colored irises seemed to sparkle as they found the jade gem nestled between the straps of the previously broken sandal. Only in that instant did you seem to grasp this gesture and sketching a shy smile you asked:

“Did you bring the sandals to my door?” you were unable to contain your curiosity. Even though the blue-skinned woman was as tall as you, her presence made you regret every single word your mouth uttered. She looked into your eyes, once again, her expression had become less tense, however she turned her head, as if to see if there were other threats on the horizon, on the shores of the beach, when her attention returned to you that hard sentry expression had again marked her soft pale blue face. She nodded, that was her only response.

Biting your lower lip, you carefully crouched down to your sandals, pointing at the jade nugget “Did you place this stone? It's gorgeous.” Your tone laced with fear of her was trying to bring out a semblance of genuine sweetness, maybe that was really a small gift of apology from her.

“Je'el” she murmured with another nod of her head. You smiled shyly, feeling embarrassed for a moment.

"I…" your gaze rose towards her "I'm so grateful…but, I have nothing to give you in return though" you answered regretfully, feeling guilty. The woman seemed to turn to stone, as if she were still thinking about the answer to give. Nothing could prepare you for her lightning bolt of hers, impossible to predict, or maybe you were foolish to get caught unprepared a second time. Like the previous night, she grabbed you by the ankle, making you lose your balance and fall onto your butt on the sand. The intent was to drag you towards the water, but this time the soft ground under your hands would not have given you a foothold or a way to save yourself, the only possibility to escape was to ask for mercy.

"Please no! I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" you implored screaming regardless of the little breath you had left between one word and another "I beg you…!" the pleas were interrupted by a gasp, when icy tongues of sea water insinuated themselves between the skin of your back and your dress, wetting your hair too. On your back you found the warrior above you, her face partially covered by the mask a few centimeters from yours, while her eyes dark as night seemed to drink from your fear, just like a predator excited by perceiving the terror of the captured prey. The shortness of breath that made your chest move, now wet with salt water and stuck to the colored fabric of her dress, stopped short when the warrior reached a hand on her mask to remove it. For a moment that aura steeped in dominance seemed to waver, she was aware that as soon as she took her breath away it would last a few minutes, but she didn't allow her anxiety to stop her further. The hand that firmly held the handle of the spear, moved forcefully, driving it into the sand thick with the waves, a short distance from your face, a command and a stern threat not to dare make rash moves, or the consequences would be severe ; your frightened whine was a more than exhaustive answer. Not that she needed further certainties, you had repeatedly demonstrated how clueless I was of your survival instinct.

Removing the mask, the warrior gasped slightly, then shook her head, time was short and she should have used it as best she could. The same hand grabbed your face, not strong enough to hurt you, but firm enough to sink the fingertips into the soft skin of your cheeks, so warm and gradually more and more rosy. Your eyes tried to cast one last pleading glance at the woman as you watched in bewilderment as the sun-kissed amber complexion of her lips was soon tinged with the same blue that ruled her skin…What absurd creature was trying to kill you?! You thought terrified. Your mind traveled wild like a horse, many people before dying reviewed her whole life like a retrospective on a film, but you were imagining how that woman would have torn you to shreds, leaving the rest to the sea.

The feel of her cold, wet lips pressing against yours was the last thing you expected, however. Your surprised hum was suppressed in that kiss. She moved away from you for a second, wanting to memorize with her eyes every single reaction painted on your face, and in a moment of sweetness she caressed your face with her fingers, pressing her thumb on your parted lips in need of oxygen, to breath away from that cascade of gestures so unexpected that mixed with fear and other illicit emotions, they were melting your brain. You were freaking out. Something in you was broken, you had no idea what it was, but it surely had to do with your sanity, as, despite the grip on your jaw, you tried to reach unsuccessfully the mouth of the warrior, who caught off guard , pushed you back down with a 'splash', then attacked your lips with more fervor now. Apparently she didn't accept any attempt at domination other than hers.

Never in your life would you have ever imagined sharing such a carnal and primitive kiss, with the sea creature who held your life in her hands, playing with it and threatening to drag you into the abyss with her, if she got fed up or bored. Her tongue followed yours tirelessly, she knew your shyness and fear wouldn't last long, the way your mouths moved, your teeth clashing as the warrior tried to bite your lower lip or corner of your mouth and the moans that escaped from time to time between a stolen breath and the next, only hinted at an ever stronger charge of libido, like a fuse between the two flints that were your bodies. It was useless to think coherently, there was nothing coherent in feeling that strong passion in that situation, the only thing to do was let yourself be carried away by the current, hoping that all this was just a dream created by your fervent mind.

The other hand of the warrior sank into the shallow water of the shore, grabbing one of your breasts, still covered by the annoying clinging and soaked fabric of your sundress, making you moan in that kiss so voracious and forbidden. She was impatient and became so as time went on.

“K'ujo'obo ', wa uts chéen pudieras respirar yáanal le ja'o'” (Gods, if only you could breathe underwater) her breath collided with your lips, breaking the kiss. Her voice had a scolding tone and it was raspy from lack of oxygen. Curiosity devoured you in wanting to know what that archaic language meant. Her grip on your face gave way, softened as she stroked your cheek. “Ma' péeksik a” (Do not move) her voice does not allow discussions, you didn't know what she ordered you, but judging by the way her hand slid down your neck, you decided to stay still where you were, looking at her with the same eyes of a bewildered puppy.

Noticing no movement or any kind of resistance from you, the woman decided not to waste any more time in lingering, and almost as if she were about to drown, she lowered her face to your breasts immersed in the salty water. A muffled sound of ripping made you jump as you realized she had broken the neckline of your lovely sundress below your chest, then buried her face in the valley between your breasts. Her hot mouth, in contrast with the cold temperature of her skin and of the water, had begun to attack your right breast, causing you a cascade of pleasant contrasting sensations, while greedily biting the soft skin, sometimes almost teasing you, other times more predatory, she left you with the certainty that you would find several reddish and pink halos around it. You moaned once again arching her back, feeling her left hand massaging her other breast, as her tongue laced around your nipple, taking it into her mouth and sucking it as if her life depended on hers. You closed your eyes, taking a last look at the starry sky, while one of the many waves hit you, making you feel suspended in space. Your hands balled into fists, unable to grip anything solid that could somehow help release the tension. It was excruciating, exciting, yet deeply wild and insane what your body was experiencing. A trail of kisses, brought her lips to abandon your right breast, to be able to greedily attach to the other, murmuring delighted in tasting the sweet taste of your skin; as her hands slid down your soft hips, the warrior wanted so badly to feel the clear way every moan and mewl that filled your mouth, just as she wished you could feel how much she was appreciating your body and how she would worship it as a priest does with a temple. Perhaps this was the curse of having found a mate of the surface, a barrier would have always divided you. When her fingers anchored to the edge of the skirt of her dress, the woman re-emerged from the water, but not before leaving one last kiss on your nipple. Your face was pure heaven to her eyes, just as hers was to you. You could enjoy her view of her amber complexion for a few more seconds, while the drops of the sea enjoyed copious on your face, before it returned to her blue color. The woman couldn't help stealing another lovely kiss from you, letting her nose adorned with a septum gently collide with yours.

“Luk'ul le nook'e' Ma'ili' ti' u destruya ta wo'olal” (take this dress off before I destroy it for you) her tone sounded like a growl, which made you shiver in contrast to the sweetness of her gestures. She looked at you almost assuming you could understand her language.

“W-what?” you said confused, lifting yourself up with you torso thanks to the help of you elbows, so much so that you once again found yourself a handful of millimeters from her lips. The warrior rolled her eyes to the side in annoyance, then cursed something softly, this language barrier starting to get on her nerves. She understood that she would have to do everything by herself, and feeling the natural need to breathe water, she began to forcefully tear your sundress again, opening it in half and reducing it to a miserable colored flap, your annoyed squeaks made her curse something again through clenched teeth, and then bring it closer to your face:

“Teech traeré uláak', láayli' asab jats'uts, u prometo” (I'll bring you another one, even more beautiful, I promise) he whispered in an almost sorry tone, while filling your face with wet and salty kisses, in a desperate attempt not to let you escape from her, first the forehead, then your nose and your cheeks and a last longer and more intense on your mouth. It was impossible for you to understand every single word she uttered, yet it seemed you could taste every emotion of her felt in that moment, when your mouths met.

“Bejla'e' p'áaten quieto ka Cha' in ch'a' a siibal” (Now lie still and let me take your gift)

Your eyes darted to every corner as she submerged once more, between your legs and lower belly covered in water. You let out a frustrated sigh at the impossibility of understanding her next move, the liquid surface rippled by the waves and the little moonlight were obstacles impossible to climb over. Your skin crawled in mild anxiety as the warrior's fingers creep between your soft, inviting thighs. Her nails grabbed her flesh and skin, forcing your legs to spread apart just enough to be able to hide your head between them and access your intimacy. Namora licked her lower lip with the tip of her tongue, unable to contain an excited moan, she wanted to devour you, she longed for that little corner of paradise that you kept so shyly, she knew that a part of you was still afraid and full of questions, but the warrior was certain that thanks to her meticulous attentions, she would make you forget everything, even your name and where you belonged.

Her lips rested on the velvety skin of your inner thigh, leaving a sweet trail of kisses; she would worship every inch of you and your eager moans made her heart pound with emotion as much as her eagerness to sink her mouth into your pussy. She was certain that yours was also going at the same speed and she prayed to her gods that it wasn't for fear of her, she hoped with all her heart that, deep down, the libido was eating you alive just like her, really. At the mere thought she bit a flap of your thigh delicately, watching your body jolt as she sucked it between her lips until a rosy halo imprinted on your skin, while her cheek touched your pussy; Namora wouldn't let her insecurities make her hesitate, you were her mate, she'd felt it, she'd felt it the first time she'd met you, but she reacted instinctively and now it was her time to make up for it, to make you hers, to mark you and show you how much fate had decided to bind you to each other, despite your worlds separating you and he would have completed this task.

A shower of other small, stinging burns planted itself between your thighs, making you gasp impatiently and your legs trembled with sensitivity. Although your pussy was covered in water, you were certain that was swollen and wet, due to that grueling torture; apparently "that kind of siren" had a thing for biting. The fear that she wanted to devour you was replaced when her warm tongue caressed your folds. An audible gasp made your body suddenly stiffen as you tried unsuccessfully to suppress another moan as her lips closed around your clit, leaving a wet kiss.

“F-Fuck..!” in the throes of instinct and perhaps fear of what you were feeling, you backed away from that mouth so welcoming and hungry, but the warrior's grip on your thighs put you back in your place, then carrying them on her shoulders, preventing you from any escape route to this point.

The iron grip of Namora's nails on your flesh left hot and dark crescent-shaped footprints, once again warning you not to fight her and to accept what she had to offer you. Her mouth returned to your pussy, tasting it again, this time taking longer to savor you. She shivered with excitement, delicious, how could something so aphrodisiac be so hard to tame? Her tongue traversed the contours of your folds, descending towards your entrance, lapping the contours vigorously, then rising with the tip up to your clit, without any hurry, sucking it as if it were the sweetest thing in the world. Out of the water she listened to your soft moans even if muffled, your mewls and your back arching with pleasure; a satisfied smile crept onto her lips. Gods, you were perfect, every part of you seemed to have been made for her.

“Jach ma'alobech” (you're so good) she gasped underwater, sinking her lips into your clit, flicking her tongue vigorously, and savoring it like you were her last meal. “A wíinkilil ma' u tuus in, in woojel ba'ax táak u” (Your body can't lie to me, I know it wants me). Her mouth slid towards your entrance, licking the velvety edges, feeling on her lips as your rubbery muscles contracted around her hot, expert tongue as she fucked you with it. Another smile painted on her face continuing with her work of hers, until your thighs of hers wrapped her face, bringing it even closer to you making her moan. To die between the thighs of her mate would have been better than any glorious death in battle, she thought as she emerged from the water to watch your sweet face twist into a dissatisfied expression at the sudden absence of her mouth on your your needy pussy. Were you passively accepting the fact that you were for each other?

Namora took off her headgear, which had now become uncomfortable for her too, and throwing it far enough to prevent the tide from taking it away, she let her long, jet-black, wet hair fall copiously on her shoulders and chest, framing that face that now it seemed that of a nymph, of rare beauty, coming from who knows what tropical and unknown land. She leaned towards you, until the tips of your noses touched, your breathing became short, your pupils were dilated, your mind was clouded, your desire to escape was now extinguished, now what mattered most to you was merging your lips with hers again, tasting the nectar of your own juices.

“Rogadme” (beg me) Namora's voice woke you up from your state of ecstasy, her hot breath collided on your mouth, her eyes didn't leave yours for a second, while the fingers of her right hand slowly slipped between your folds, massaging them with almost excruciating slowness, meticulously careful not to touch, except lightly and absently, your clit. You inhaled sharply, as your hips swayed towards Namora's hand, hoping for more relief.

“Rugar in, ka continuaré” (Beg me, and I will continue) as your lips desperately tried to reach hers to kiss them, Namora pulled away the necessary couple of centimeters for you to moan impatiently. She smirked lustfully at your pathetic plea to be kissed.

“Please…” you murmured in a sigh as you dropped your head back onto the soft, wet sand, accentuating your defeat and submission to her will. Out of shame you closed your eyelids for a long moment, while what little pride you had was finally swallowed up by your desire to be ruined by that unknown woman. “Please, Please…!” dominated by the need to please, let a punch of audacity make you gather the necessary courage to grab Namora's hand, bringing her palm closer between your folds, guiding it in faster movements, which made every tense muscle of yours loosen, bringing you a nice wave of shivering pleasure as the tips of his index and middle fingers slid inside your hole. You were literally seeing stars and that warrior hadn't even started on you, damn, did you really lose your mind if you got so pathetic for a little attention, how long hasn't someone made you feel this way?

Taken aback by your courage and initially convinced that you wanted to chase her away badly, Namora let you do it, but when she sensed that it was only the rash gesture to seek some relief from that cruel torture of teasing, a low and satisfied chuckle it escaped her lips. Placing a hand on your shoulder, she thrust you in a well-aimed move back to the ground, and after grabbing both your wrists and placing them equally bulky either side of your head, silently commanded you to remain in your place. She loved that there was a decisive reaction from you too, however she was in charge that night and she did not accept compromises. The woman gasped slightly, she needed water…so placing a last kiss on the lobe of your ear, she whispered: “Bix a k'áat, in Diosa” (as you wish, my Goddess) before diving again under the water.

Without any fear or insecurity that this time you would have escaped from her, Namora firmly gripped your thigh with her left hand, while with her right hand she spread your velvety folds with her fingertips, exposing each of your most sensitive points to the cool water temperature and the warmth of his lips which soon fell upon them. Her tongue returned to your clit lapping it mercilessly, and sucking it giving your body small jerks and tremors. Her tongue was everywhere, going down and up between the contours of your folds, the tip of that warm muscle gently pushing between the gummy walls of your entrance, then clinging again to your clit, embracing it between her sweet lips as she sucked your nectar they so craved. Your hands slipped through her long black locks of hair, stroking them, and gently pushing her face even further between your welcoming thighs, making the warrior moan with pure pleasure, while the tip of her nose and her icy jade septums collided with your sensitive clit, making you cry out from the rain of rowdy but ecstatic you were feeling. You bit your lower lip a little dissatisfied when you ascertained that it was impossible for you two to meet your gazes in that sinful act. You wished you could watch her irises, dark as night, catch your every moan and mewl as she continued to devour your pussy like it was the sweetest thing she'd ever tasted.

“Cuán impacientes chan” (how impatient we are) she commented to herself, flicking her tongue on your swollen clit, replacing her mouth, with two fingers that began to slowly massage that part, before slapping it with her fingertips, making you crying out. “Tak ku beetik jump'éel minutos querías huir ti' teen ka bejla'e' a a lanzando u in fauces bey juntúul chan kaaye' num” (until a few minutes ago you wanted to run away from me, and now you're throwing yourself into my jaws like a silly little fish) another slap, as the left hand slid near your entrance. Her fingers resumed massaging your clit, and your eyes rolled back in the dizzying pleasure mixed with the constant edging; Apparently that creature liked to play with its food. Another slap, as if she reading your sarcastic thoughts, you bit your lower lip hard, hoping your obscene verses hadn't woken up anyone in the village. “Ch'úupalo 'descuidada, descuidada” (careless, careless girl) with each word Namora decided whether to give you a warm caress of her lips or her fingers or a severe slap on your now too sensitive clit. Your eyes got wet, from the pleasure, you just wanted to cum, you just wanted the pleasure to flood you just like the waves of that calm sea were doing.

When she noticed your legs starting to shake, did she know you were ready, did you crave pleasure? She would give it to you until you burst, until your mind was drunk with her and only her. A finger slid into your entrance with ease, and Namora didn't mind moaning on your pussy of pleasure, leaving a pleasant vibration on your pussy. You were so warm, soft, welcoming, so wet with that sweet nectar. Every thrust of her finger into you, was accompanied by the rhythm of your hips, even as she tried to keep you in your place, you wanted more, you wanted—

"Please, more…" you moaned incoherently almost as if it were a prayer. The warrior added a second, as her thrusts got faster, deeper. A blaze of fire was growing in your lower abdomen, its hot flames traversing your slit, your trembling legs, making you sensitive to the slightest touch. Feeling Namora's fingers curl and scissor between your gummy walls, molding them to her liking, confidently reaching for your magical spot, as if she knows your body like an open book, made you see stars and moan like a slut without any shame, no one would have come to disturb you, of this you were certain by now, or at least you hoped.

Her fingers continued to sink relentlessly into your hole, her mouth sloppyly tasting every inch of your pussy, oblivious to the tip of her nose rubbing your swollen clit. Your first orgasm hit you like a jolt, a vortex of freezing and hot temperatures had collided on your body making you lose any sensitive perception, any possible coherent thought. Your thighs closed automatically around the woman's head, unable to understand whether to stop her or to entice her even more to feed on you. One thing was certain, Namora didn't seem willing to stop, not even in the face of the constant spasms of your entrance, now filled with her fingers, which continued to rub and dilate your walls, looking for every point capable of making you scream and jump. Your moans were never mixed with whimpers and sobs, despite Namora trying to reopen your thighs, your legs seemed to hold her in an almost fatal grip; You were certainly not an obedient human. It didn't matter, she thought, she would educate you over time.

You were on the verge of another intense orgasm when you felt the uncomfortable sensation of her fingers leaving your hole, as well as her mouth. No, you thought in exasperation, why did she stop again?! You opened your eyes and stood up with the little strength left with your torso, hoping that your elbows supported you this time, ready to beg her to get back between your legs, but the sight of her gorgeous face left you speechless voice.

“Fuck, you're a Goddess” you mumbled in pure admiration, as you watched as the blue veins slowly replaced her caramel skin. Only when she heard your voice did she bring her gaze towards you, and then lean down on your face to be able to kiss you. It was a sloppy kiss, that she knew about your juices, but at the same time you could feel an unusual aftertaste of feelings that attracted you to each other like magnets. You didn't have the courage to think it was…attraction? No, it felt like much more. As if two people at the ends of a long red thread were finally to find each other. They were thoughts too complex and out of your reach to be able to contemplate in that moment of ecstasy and lust, you were two worlds too different to understand each other, despite this you were fused as in a single flame, or like two waters of two springs in a single stream.

Your hands grabbed the edges of the armor that covered her chest and toned and sculpted torso, trying to remove it, but with little success, afraid of breaking it because of your carelessness.

"I want to see you" you gasped, kissing her again, your lips captured her bottom, pulling him gently towards you, making the warrior moan in a low tone, who in the meantime had taken your face in her hands, intertwining her now blue fingers between your hair "I want to feel your skin on mine…" Namora broke away from you for a few moments, breathing heavily as she watched you as if she were having a hard time translating into her mind what you had to say to her; even her lucidity was failing. Her manner seemed to be less harsh and controlling than before her, but you knew her haste was the constant lack of oxygen. If only…if only you could breathe underwater.

"You're beautiful" you murmured shyly, placing a hand on her cheek to caress it, she tried not to wince, but her amazed gaze spoke for itself. I wonder if she understood you. Namora brought your face close to hers, until your foreheads touched in an intimate gesture. Your chests were close, your hands tried once again to undress her, but the woman gently wrapped them with hers, bringing them to the sides of her face, still wanting to feel the warmth of your soft skin on hers. Her expression was tight, as if torn about what to do. She would have wanted to give herself to you and worship you on that beach all night long if that were possible, however, her difficulty breathing was making her strength weaker and weaker. But she…she didn't want to leave you, not now that she'd found you.

“No possible…” her english was very primitive, her voice rasped from lack of air. She was contemplating something about her, while you watched her confused and at the same time amazed to hear her try to break your language barrier. “I bring…the Flower. Then nothing…separate us” a flower? What was she talking about?

"What you mean? I don't understand” she shook her head, nervous that she didn't know how to explain it in your language, your eyes reopened, looking straight into yours, there wasn't much time left before the primordial need to get back in the water forced her to part from you. K'uk'ulkan was surely wondering what had become of her most trusted person, just as Attuma, her place of belonging was calling her back and demanding an explanation for her sudden absence. The woman took your right hand bringing it to her heart, gasping slightly and not taking her gaze off yours she said: "Namora…" you looked perplexed at her needy eyes, almost like a puppy "I…Namora" she repeated insistently and that moment you guessed: she was telling you her name!

You smiled and bringing her hand to your heart, you whispered yours. She gave a hint of a smile, almost relieved, she had already painted that name a thousand times in her memory of her, even if she had discovered it only seconds ago, wishing you were doing the same too. Grabbing your face in her hands she pressed your lips in one last needy and chaste kiss, but so powerful it took both of your breaths away.

"Wait for me…I" the woman grabbed the mask, swallowing with difficulty "I...go...go back to you" she murmured before placing the mask on her mouth and taking a deep breath, under your bewitched and incredulous eyes of all that had happened that night.

You watched Namora cast a quick glance towards the sea, as if some invisible voice had called her back. She shook her head before reaching for her spear and headdress. She turned away from you as getting to her feet she walked quickly towards the sea. Before the waves could take her completely away from you, the woman turned towards your naked figure, studying you for a few seconds and then disappearing into the water, just as she had arrived. She would come back, it was a promise you both were certain of. Your barriers would no longer be a problem, Namora thought as she swiftly swam across the depths of the sea, towards Talokan, her home. She would bring the antidote to you the next time you met and nothing, nothing would tear you apart again. The woman smiled, imagining and dreaming of you two swimming in the waters of Talokan, introducing you to her people, teaching you her culture and her language, tearing you away from the cruelty and dangers of the surface world. In the meantime, you had tiptoed back to your little house in the now sleeping and silent village as a tomb. After putting on your pajamas you took the notebook you had brought with you and with a smile on your lips and your heart still beating, you wrote the title of your next novel: 'Calypso. A love lost in time'.

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @imaginativethinking @mar-de-seentimientos @bloatedandlonly

#namora #namora x reader #wakanda forever #black panther #lesbian #sapphic #smut #namor #attuma #x reader #fem!reader #heket works

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