Con Amor (With Love) (Namor x Shuri)

Con Amor (With Love)

"Un niño de satánas. Un niño sin amor"

Is what the Spanish priest told him as a child the moment he stepped foot on his land. HIS land. Not theirs. The Spanish priest looking at him with the utmost horror in his wide eyes, voice shaking in fear, and telling him that he's a son of satan.

Namor witnessing the enslavement of his own people. The way their wrists were tied by rough rope that left marks, them being whipped by men as they were forced to do unnecessary tasks out of their own free will, being manhandled, being tortured, and being stripped of their entire humanity. Hearing his people's cries in agony and sorrow as they are suffering. From men, to women, to the elderly and to children. He never witnessed something so traumatic.

Hearing the language they spoke to talk down upon his people and himself. Hearing such language that's filled with hate, a language that is pure evil and disgustingly wicked. He never wanted to hear that vile blood soaking language ever again.

The Spanish causing mass destruction to his mothers home, left him in such rage, he burned all their buildings, and them to Cizin and Xibalba, in honor of her. The flames engulfing all their disgusting buildings, personal belongings, hearing their cries of anguish as they pray to their god. Made him feel content.

They mistreated his people, so he will do the same thing to them. To avenge his people. And he did.

As chaos was erupting behind him, he buried his mothers body into the earth's soil of her home land.

That was over 400 years ago but it seemed like it was yesterday, and not a day goes by without him thinking of that time and place. He wonders what his mothers home looks like as of right now. He hasn't stepped foot on her land ever since that day. If he does, it will just enhance his trauma.

Namor sighs as he remembers the memory of that time again. He mixes some pigments with water and blends them together to make some paints that he's been running low on as a distraction but it doesn't help.

Attuma and Namora watch their leader the way he's presenting himself from across the cavern, already knowing what his mind is thinking of.

Attuma: He's remembering again

He sighs as well hopelessly.

Namora: And what do you want me to do?!

She says curtly.

Attuma: Make him think about something else. Or give him something that will distract him from that memory. The paint mixing is not enough!

Namora: Sure, let me go get a coloring book, or better yet, read him a bedtime story!

She says sarcastically.

Attuma: At least that will help him!

Namora just looks at Attuma with a blank unamused expression. Already feeling a headache coming her way.

Namor can hear their bickering from a mile away and for once, it doesn't make him laugh. Anytime Namora and Attuma bicker about the most ridiculous things, it always puts him in a brighter mood. Despite their constant disputes, he knows that they both care about each other. They are family after all.

He stands up from his desk to go towards his drawers that hold pigments of all shades to make paint. As he's rummaging through the bottles of pigments, his ears perk up when he hears a sudden whistle. A whistle he knows all too well. That's coming out of the ocean's waters.

He immediately stops what he's doing and starts to make his way out of the cavern. 

Namora: K'uk'ulkan, where are you going?