#salero | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

urgonnaneedabiggership · 2 years ago

Text

NAMOR (MCU) X MEXICAN!OC

MASTERLIST

A/N: Remember you can find this fanfic on AO3 right here. Any feedback and/or comments are greatly appreciated <3 If you want to be added to the taglist, just say so!

p.s Good news for you, I'll try to make the chapters longer from now on so the story doesn't feel slow.

Warnings: Somewhat graphic violence, mentions of weapons, death and un-aliving people. Language.

Word count: 3108

Almost everything was foreign to the leader of Talokan. From the wooden table covered in an embroidered white cloth to the unfamiliar smell that emanated from the kitchen and the soft music coming from an old sound system.

The elderly woman had paid little attention to him, rather instructing him to stay put while they made some coffee and proceeding to grab Mercedes’ arm and nearly dragging her to the kitchen while affectionately lecturing her for not calling in too long. While he hadn’t had much time to see her face, she was depicted in an old picture that rested on top of a shelf inside an overly decorated frame with hearts and dolphins.

A teenage Mercedes was also there, along with a middle-aged man and another girl. Seeing them together, Namor deduced they probably weren’t related by blood. Sadie was a bit taller than all of them, her skin one or two shades darker, the same as her hair. The man had dusty brown hair, as did the woman and their daughter, who was the man’s spitting image. On the corner of the room was a small table with a liquor bottle, some dry flowers, and a couple of lit candles. Right in the center rested a framed picture of the man in the first photo.

Whispers and occasional muffled laughter left the kitchen every few minutes. For a moment and quite unexplainably, Namor wondered if they were talking about him. Frowning, he shook his head and continued to scan the room, confused as to why he’d felt anxious at the possibility.

Little did he know, they actually were.

“Mijita, tú sabes que no soy chismosa ni suelo meterme en tus asuntos,” Mijita, you know I'm not gossipy and I tend to stay out of your business.

Mercedes smiled to herself when Moni spoke. She always said that before asking something that would be undeniably considered prying. With a mischievous grin, the woman moved closer to her and whispered.

“¿Quién es el muchacho que trajiste? ¿Es tu novio?” Who is that boy you brought with you? Is he your boyfriend?

“¡Moni!�� She reprimanded her, shaking her head negatively with a soft laugh, “¿Y tú para qué quieres saber?” And why do you want to know?

“¿Bueno, y qué tiene?” Moni replied deffensively, “¿Sabes cuántas veces me has traído un muchacho a la casa?” What's wrong with it? Do you know how many times you've brought a boy to the house?

Of course, she didn’t even give her time to answer.

“Una, ¿te acuerdas? Aquel fulano que quería trabajar en un acuario,” One, remember? That guy that wanted to work in an aquarium?

“Actuario, tía. Quería ser actuario.” Actuary, auntie. He wanted to be an actuary.

“Ay, eso, pues. No era para ti, todo desabrido, ni estaba tan guapo y lo supe desde que tiró el salero y derramó sal por todo el comedor.” Whatever, he wasn't for you. Bland, not even that handsome. I knew it from the moment he dropped the salt and spilled it all over the dining room.

Mercedes had to stifle a laugh at the woman’s firm superstitious beliefs.

“Este me gusta más,” She continued, looking over her shoulder to take a peek at Namor, who had now wandered off into the living room and was taken by a series of photographs. “Este sí está guapo, ¿no?” I like this one better. This one is handsome, isn't he?

“¡Tía!” Mercedes admonished her once again. Christ, now she remembered why she’d only brought one guy home in her entire existence. She had to admit though that the sight of Namor wrapped in a blanket, staring at the photographs while holding a probably now cold cup of coffee in his hands was…homey.

“Ya dime pues, ¿es tu novio o no?” Moni insisted, nudging her with her hips. Come on then, is he your boyfriend or not?

“No, tía Moni, de verdad que tú no tienes remedio,” Mercedes brushed her off, leaving the room to avoid being questioned further and joining her guest in the living room. No, auntie Moni, you're hopeless.

“See anything you like?” She asked. Namor’s gaze was fixed upon a series of black-and-white pictures depicting several ruins from different angles.

“That’s Palenque,” she explained, “It’s all ruins now but I bet it was beautiful in the past.”

“It was. My ancestors knew it as Bàak.” He replied distractedly, scanning the rest of the pictures and stopping at the first one that had a person in it. It was a man, sitting on the steps of one of the pyramids staring up at the sky with a solemn expression, both his hands holding onto a straw hat. He recognized him as the same man from the picture in the living room and the small shrine.

“Who is he?” Namor asked. He noticed the way Sadie’s expression shifted into a somber, melancholic one the minute she laid eyes on the man.

“Es mi Cruz, que en paz descanse” The voice of Moni coming from behind them surprised them. She’d approached them when she noticed them staring at that picture. The woman crossed herself and placed her hand on her late husband’s face after kissing it. “Mi Merceditas la tomó, ¿qué te parece?” That's my Cruz, may he rest in peace. My Merceditas took that, what do you think?

“No habla español, Tía Moni.” Sadie interceded. “Sí lo entiende, pero él es…de un pueblito en Yucatán y hablan maya.” He doesn't speak spanish, auntie Moni. He does understand it but...he's from a small village in Yucatán and they speak mayan.

“¿Y de cuándo acá volviste a hablar maya?” Moni replied with a smirk, “Ni yo me acuerdo de mucho ya, era tu tío el que sabía.” And since when do you speak Mayan again? Not even I remember much, it was your uncle who spoke it.

“Tuve un buen tutor.” Mercedes replied, sending a knowing smile his way. I had a good tutor.

“Bueno, pero hay que sentarnos que tenemos mucho que platicar, mi chiquita.” Moni interjected and gently grabbed her arm to lead her to the table. Fine, but we must sit down, we have a lot to talk about, little one

“Gracias tía, pero de hecho…” Thanks auntie, but actually...

Namor couldn’t hear the rest of the sentence because Mercedes leaned very close to her aunt and spoke just loud enough for her to hear. Moni pursed her lips and sighed with glossy eyes. Reaching up her hand, she caressed the young woman’s cheek and nodded.

“Bueno, acá los espero cuando regresen,” She whispered and gave Sadie another sympathetic look. Alright, I'll wait here for you when you come back.

Mercedes thanked her and looked back at Namor, gesturing for him to follow as Moni showed them out.

At this point, he knew she wouldn’t tell him where they were going. The only time she’d spoken since leaving the house was to let him know they were about ten minutes away from their destination. It was unnerving to see her so quiet.

Her gloominess was a stark contrast with the atmosphere that suddenly surrounded them the further they walked. More houses began to pop out, a cobblestone road replaced the dirt below them, and before they knew it they found themselves in a tiny main square. It was a lovely, bustling afternoon. People talked to each other or purchased food from street vendors, a group of children gleefully spooked a group of pigeons just to be scolded by the elderly woman feeding them, and a young couple walked hand in hand.

Namor noticed two things: wherever they were, it obviously had a small population. In fact, Mercedes seemed to know most people as they greeted her and some even chatted with her for a few minutes. And two, most of the people around there were women. He hadn’t spotted one single elderly man in all this time. In fact, practically every man he had seen was younger than them.

Finally, they reached a large, white building. From the way it was built, it looked like a school. It had a beautiful front yard with a trimmed-down lawn, several climbing plants that nearly covered the metallic rail around the building, and many trees that, even if they were overgrown from not being properly tended to, gave the garden a nice organic touch.

The air inside was barely cooler than the outside thanks to a huge fan that hung from the ceiling, but the receptionist still waved a magazine in front of her face, only looking up from a small television when Mercedes approached her. After exchanging a few words, the lady stood up and told them to follow her down a long hall.

There were several windows lining the hall that allowed them to look outside into another garden, which had no trees, but instead a set of swings and a slide, along with a small, empty orchard and a pond where an earth tortoise basked in the last rays of sunlight.

“¿No está en el jardín?” Mercedes asked the receptionist, who shook her head. She's not in the garden?

“Doña Itzé quiso quedarse en su cuarto. Dijo que prefería quedarse junto a su ventana.” Doña Itzé wanted to stay in her room. She said she'd rather stay next to the window.

Suddenly, Namor felt something warm in his hand and looked down to realize Mercedes was holding it. Not only holding it but actually squeezing it. He looked at her and noticed how she pressed her lips together anxiously. Her touch in such a way felt foreign, but it was the meaning of the gesture that really made a warm feeling spread over his chest. He didn’t know what made her feel like this, and thus he wasn’t sure of how to verbally comfort her, but that didn’t stop him from squeezing her hand back and tapping the back softly with his thumb.

It was much easier than saying something as emotionally charged as “I don’t know what’s happening or why it upsets you this much, but I’m here for you nonetheless.”

Without looking at him, Mercedes weakly smiled when she felt her gesture be reciprocated.

Finally, they reached the last door. Sadie took a deep, shaky breath as the receptionist slowly turned the doorknob and let them inside. It was a small room with pale yellow walls and wooden furniture consisting of a bed, a large armchair, shelves with many books, a closet, and a desk with several picture frames on it. Sitting on the armchair next to the window was a woman. Her long, white hair with a few black strands here and there was carefully braided, and her wrinkly skin was splotched with the tiny dark spots that came with old age. The receptionist approached her and kneeled next to the chair, whispering something in her ear before making her way back to Sadie. She thanked her and the lady left after offering them a sincere smile and reminding them she’d be right outside should they need anything.

Mercedes let go of Namor’s hand, albeit reluctantly, as she approached the armchair. She didn’t really need to explain anything. Just one glance at the elderly woman and Namor knew what Mercedes would look like in the future when she turned ninety. That thought provoked an uneasy feeling in his throat. But back to the matter at hand, when Sadie looked at her, the woman smiled brightly and it became even more obvious that they were related.

“Chiich,” Sadie greeted her, gently taking her hand and placing a kiss on her knuckles. The woman placed a hand on her head.

“Na’” The woman greeted her, “You’re late.”

Na’. Mother. Namor wondered why would the woman address her grandchild like that, but Mercedes looked as if she’d just received a blow in the stomach from hearing it.

“I’m sorry. But I’m here now.” Mercedes apologized, carefully placing a loose strand of hair behind her grandmother’s ear.

“Na’, every year I wait for this day,” The woman said with a beaming smile, “How is she?”

“She is well. She talks of you a lot,” Sadie replied. The woman seemed pleased with the news.

“Does she miss me?” She asked

Sadie opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She had to stop and look away for a moment to pull herself together before nodding with a smile, yet unable to stop a stream of tears from leaving her eyes.

“Every day. She told me to tell you that she misses you every single day, and the good memories she has of you are what keep her going until she can see you again.”

“Oh, but she’s not alone, Na’,” The woman replied calmly, “She has my daughter, my husband, and her father to look after her. And they loved her so much…I love her so much…”

The woman stared dreamily out of the window and down to the main square with a wistful look on her face.

“Xmeech…In chan nikté. It feels like only yesterday she was as little as one of those children, chasing birds.”

It seemed like she was about to cry, but she turned her head and spotted Namor who had confined himself in one of the corners to watch without intervening. Then, her sadness turned into cautious curiosity.

“He’s a friend of your grandchild.” Mercedes explained, “I told him he could come with me.” Itzé looked at him intently and finally gestured for him to approach her. He obeyed.

“Do you know my Xmeech?” She asked.

“I do, Na’ Itzé,”

“Tell me about her,” The woman asked, taking his hands in hers with pleading eyes.

He looked at Mercedes who, even though she looked as clueless as he did, nodded and goaded him to go on.

“I…only met her a couple of months ago, Na’ Itzé.”

From the expression on her face, he knew the woman expected him to keep going. He looked at Mercedes again, who made herself scarce and rushed to the other side of the room, gathering the books scattered around the desk to put them back on the shelf. This made it easier for him to continue.

“Your Xmeech is a very smart person,” He added, “And I don’t know whether to call her stubborn or persistent,” That made her laugh, and it was such an authentic gesture that it was impossible not to do so with her. “But she also has a good heart, even if she seems to think otherwise. Your granddaughter is bold, sharp and loyal to herself and the choices she makes. I respect her and admire her for that, but…”

Itzé looked at him questioningly when he seemed to doubt.

“She is afraid,” Namor continued, “I don’t know why and she won’t tell me.”

“That is my grandchild,” She chuckled softly, “Xmeech will not say anything until she wants to, in her own time. But tell me, can you protect her when she tells you what worries her?”

Namor looked over his shoulder at Mercedes, who was now pretending to clean the framed pictures with the edge of her t-shirt in her attempt to keep herself distracted.

“I can, and I will.”

“Then I am at peace,” The woman affirmed, “Knowing K’uk’ulkan is the protector of my grandchild. Yes, I knew right when I saw you.” She continued before he could say anything else. She reached out and carefully slid her hand along his face, carefully tracing his features with her fingertips. The gesture was so motherly familiar that he couldn’t help but feel a tight knot in his throat.

“You’re just like I imagined you to be whenever I heard my mother’s stories,” Itzé whispered, “I’m really tired. Tell Na’ I will see her next year. Goodbye, kän-än.”

The woman gently leaned back, resting her feet on a small stool before her, and closed her eyes with a tranquil sigh. Namor watched her sleep in silence until he felt a hand on his shoulder. Behind him, the younger vision of the woman before him helped him get up.

“I didn’t mean to take up all your time,” He apologized, “She said she was tired and…”

“I know, it’s okay, maybe we can come back later,” She assured him, “Come walk with me, please? I need some air.”

He looked at her intently. From her large, brown eye now reddened and puffy to the thin line that her full, bronze-colored lips turned into whenever something troubled her. Namor realized with an unnerving certainty that even the strongest resolve could be shaken under that gaze.

They decided to take a stroll along one of the empty streets, under the trees that provided a pleasant shadow and the noise of hundreds of birds that would hide their conversation from other ears.

“She doesn’t know I’m there,” Mercedes blurted out after they left the last person behind, “She thinks I’m some divine messenger from the afterlife that every year delivers her news from her family there. I try to come every month but she still thinks I come once a year.”

“She thinks you’re dead?” He inquired, hoping it didn’t sound too blunt.

“I was taken away from her, a few years ago,” Sadie explained, absently looking at her hands, “By the time I was able to come back, her mind had deteriorated too much for her to understand what had happened. So she will never know I ever came back.”

“I’m sorry,” Namor sincerely apologized. This time, unlike the previous, he didn’t fight the urge to place a hand on her shoulder. However, Mercedes nodded and tapped it a few times before gently removing it.

“It’s not your fault.”

The conversation stopped there. They kept walking around a corner to make their way back to the main square. While the streets were empty, the atmosphere wasn’t somber, but peacefully quiet.

“You never told me your Chiich was still alive,” He eventually said.

“I never told you she wasn’t, either,” Mercedes replied defensively. Realizing she’d spoken more harshly than she intended to, the girl cleared her throat and softened her voice, “Nobody, not even the friends I’ve managed to keep for years, knows about her.”

“Why?”

“I’ve…done things over the years. The kind of things that, as cliché as it sounds, earn you a few enemies. She’s the only family I have left in this world. I’d do anything for her to live out the rest of her days quietly and in peace.”

Her voice trembled when she uttered that last sentence. Almost certain of the answer, Namor made her another question.

“What did that man say to you on the ship?”

Mercedes sighed as if she already knew he would ask that. Her eyes turned glossy again, even if she tried to speak nonchalantly, stating a mere fact.

“He said it was his turn to ask questions and then he said…’Is your grandmother well?´”

He couldn’t blame her for having reacted the way she did. To hide someone so rigorously for years to protect them from any harm just to have someone inform you in the same sentence that not only did they know about them, but intended to harm them? Eerily familiar.

“It was never about the entire seven billion people on this planet. I’m not one of my aunt’s saints to give my life to people I don’t even know. But I would gladly give it for her, or my aunt, or many of these people, as my father…”

The same group of kids interrupted her when they ran in front of them, this time busy loudly playing tag. This made her laugh a little and wipe her eyes. She turned to look at him to find him staring, probably wondering when she'd finish her sentence. His glance, however, wasn't impatient. It was concerned, sympathetic. It felt warm, like the rays of the sun that paled in the sky right about to set.

“You know what? My aunt is waiting for us. We should go.”

28 notes · View notes