Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A sharp piercing scream jolted Namor awake with a start. He sat up from his cot, the blanket slipping to the ground in his haste. Namor waited nervously to see if he could hear anything else, worried that he may have dreamt it.

Then a round of laughter erupted from a group of children just outside his window.

Namor groaned and fell back to his bed, rubbing his face as he tried to collect himself. Still groggy with sleep. "These damn kids," He muttered, but there was no real bite to his words. Just a worn out affection.

The children continued to scream and laugh so he rolled out of his cot, crossing his very small room and opened the wooden shutters so quickly that the children below screamed again in fright.

"Padre Almehen! Padre Almehen!" They chanted, all clamoring around his window.

"You all are very loud this morning. Isn't it a little too early?"

"No! You're up a little too late this morning, Padre." Said one of the older girls, and a course of giggles spread through the small group.

Namor glanced at the clock on his wall, above the small fireplace, that shown it was indeed late in the morning. Normally he would have been up an hour before. It had been difficult for him to sleep last night as he was plagued with a rather bad headache. He rubbed his temple and let out an exaggerated sigh, "Alright fine, you got me. Go on, get out of here."

Despite being so loud, they were all good kids and they bounded away with screaming laughter, turning and waving toward Namor as they left.

His eyes shifted from the children to the farmlands were there were already field workers tending to the crops of Ch'ul. A dark blue plant that sprouted from the land in a cluster of several thick leaves. The plants were the pride of the Talokan, making the village prosperous and strong.

Ch'ul was used for many things, from food to cleaning supplies around the home. But its main use was for the plants many medicinal properties. Used as a topical cream for minor burns or medicine for high fevers.

The plant was unique in that it could only be grown on Talokan soil no matter how hard horticulturists tried.

It unfortunately brought the village into focus for outsiders wanting to profit off of them, but the town protected their own.

The sky's were completely clear today, not a cloud in sight. To most people that would be a blessing, to Talokan it felt like an omen. Namor closed his windows shut and got ready for the day.

His rooms were small but it suited his needs so he never had any real complaints about it. In a small basin he poured in cold water and quickly washed his face and hair, his fingers left frozen by the time he was done.

He took the familiar black clothing he had hung on the wall the night before, its fabric well worn but still stiff as he pulled it on.

The last thing put on was the white priest collar.

Namor's rooms led to the chapel he looked over. It was modest in furniture and decorations, holding only about ten pews and a podium with a large wooden cross just behind it. The chapel itself could, at best, hold roughly fifty people at a time. Which was could be quite daunting when the town itself consisted of several hundreds of people, but they made it work.

He walked around his chapel and checked that the windows were secured as well as the ties of the thick red curtains that covered the walls. They were tied to both the floors and to the walls, acting as a way to keep the chapel warm…as well as keep its true purpose hidden.

There were morning errands that he needed to attend to first, but he would keep the doors open for anyone who would need it.

Since he woke up late, he was unsurprised to see the town already in movement. A few waving as they saw him walk out. He smiled warmly as they passed and bent low to pick up the newspaper left at his doors.

Normally he would have placed it inside to read later, but the headline on the front page had been alarming. He quickly skimmed through the article.

Foreign diplomats horrifically killed in an unusual accident

The Udaku family are a well known family that have come to represent their prosperous country of Wakanda…Their carriage had been attacked by a pack of wolves…mauled to death…Wolves have been an uncommon occurrence that has increased as of late…They left behind a single daughter…

At the side of the article there was a photo of said daughter with her name listed just below it. Namor felt his heart skip a beat at the sight of her. The large dark eyes and sharp angles of her face equating to the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

"Shuri Udaku." He whispered, testing the name with a hushed tone. Feeling ashamed for having such a visceral reaction from just her image alone, he quickly muttered out a prayer, hoping she would remain safe in her difficult time.

"Padre Almehen!!" Was the only warning he would receive before a small body flung at him, nearly knocking him to the ground. He quickly grabbed onto the child with one arm as he balanced to keep them from both falling. "Good morning!"

"Patli!" Hissed the child's mother as she rushed after her, prying her daughter off of Namor. "I'm so sorry Padre, she insisted on coming to see you."

"It's alright." He smiled folding up the newspaper and placing it in the inside pocket of his coat. Namor bent down to the same height as Patli to address her, the girl suddenly shy now as she clung to her mother's skirts. "What did you need to come see me for?"

"I lost my Susanita."

"Ah." Namor chuckled as Patli's mother looked mortified.

"That's why you wanted to see Padre Almehen, to find a doll you lost?"

"How else am I going to find her, mama!"

"By using your eyes, you foolish girl." Her mother deadpanned. She let out an exasperated sigh and looked to Namor. "I'm so sorry for causing you trouble."

"No trouble at all. It is a small thing." Namor held out his hand to Patli and she went shy again, tucking her chin to her chest as she placed her hand in his.

//Susanita was a doll stitched together with left over scraps of fabric and black yarn for hair. Braided into two plaits down her small shoulders. She sat undisturbed in a large tree//

"It's were you left it last. In the tree behind your home."

The little girl had been excited for only a moment until he mentioned the tree. Her expression frozen as her mother admonished her again.

"Patli!" She planted a hand on her hip as the other one quickly caught her daughter before she could run off. "You climbed the tree again when I specifically told you not to."

"It wasn't me?"

"Ugh." Patli's mother took a deep breath in. "Thank you, Padre, but you shouldn't be wasting your gift."

"Like I said," Namor grunted as he stood up, his knees protesting the movement. He wasn't appreciating his age right now. "It's a small thing. Besides what else am I going to use it for?"

She hummed, giving him the same motherly exasperated look that she had given her daughter. "Well thank you just the same. We were on our way to the manor."

"The manor?"

"You didn't hear? The Kraven's are coming back, probably today."

Namor felt an uncomfortable tremble drag across his shoulders. A long gnarled finger and a whisper at his back.

Danger.

"Padre? Are you well?"

He came back to himself, ignoring his fears, and offered a placid smile. "Of course, I'll stop by later to help with the house."

Sergi Nikolavich Kravinoff.

Or simply, Kraven.

A wealthy entrepreneur who moonlighted as a renowned hunter. It was rumored that whatever he touched turned to gold, that he could charm his enemies to do his bidding, and was successful in whatever opportunity he pursued.

A man who had set his sights on Talokan a handful of years ago.

He wanted to capitalize on the rare medicinal plant that only Talokan could produce, and since he couldn't take it with him he bought the entire town. Then built a large house on the hill to overlook the town. It was modern and looked nothing like the architecture of the rest of the town. Standing out like a spot of rot on a perfectly red apple.

Kraven didn't quite live in the house, spending more time outside of it then in it. Treating the house more like a visitor then its owner. Which was fortunate since the townsfolk generally did not like him, his wife, or the men he brought with him, which he seemed to collect like trophies.

The people tolerated him though as he did bring a certain level of protection from other entrepreneurs who wanted the plant. They didn't have the money or influence to go up against Kraven so random visits from outsiders dwindled to just Kraven himself. Not like the village could do much against him anyway, or the group of strange men he always brought with him. The men were always rude and condescending, and even if they brought money to spend, it was never worth it by the end of their visits.

Namor himself was wary of the man Kraven, but for an entirely different reason. The first day they met they shook hands, and it was also the last day they ever touched, keeping a frigidly polite distance.

Even if Kraven never showed his face in their town again, Namor would never forget the small insight he was given when their hands touched.

//A beast, one that could not be named, wheezing out its last breath as Kraven crouched before it. Torso bare and drenched in blood as he watched the beast die with disinterest. A large hunting knife held loosely in one hand//

Then the connection was severed by Mrs Kraven. Her eyes trained on Namor as she pulled her husband away.

Mrs. Kraven was an enigma amongst the men that her husband kept in his company. She was cold like ice, her hair brushed back into a tight bun, her dark skin perfectly ageless, her eyes so dark they were near black, and her dress always buttoned up with a high collar and long sleeves. She was as beautiful as she was rigid, never one who liked to be touched, and never one to offer a hand of friendship to any of the townsfolk.

Namor skipped his usual walk around town and cut straight to the apothecary, the bell ringing faintly as he walked through the door. The smell of herbs and Ch'ul permanently attached to the small shop. There were shelves of glass and clay jars, and rows of wooden drawers that lined the walls. Each filled with prepared medicines, teas, and tinctures.

Behind the shop's counter was a woman, her back turned to the door, humming as she worked. She was in the middle of grinding herbs in a large bowl. A small baby gurgling softly strapped to her back with an orange wrap.

The woman abruptly stopped her singing and spoke without turning. "So you've heard the 'good' news I take it."

"Good morning, Tua." He stepped in closer to lean against the counter, waggling his fingers to the baby who giggled trying to catch them. "And good morning to you too, Namora."

When Tua had her baby, frightened and alone as she stood at his chapel doors soaked by the rain, Namor had been the one to help her give birth. In return she named her daughter after him.

She turned to face him, her heart shaped face making her look younger than she was. "Did you need me to make your sleep tonics?"

"Please, if you have time."

Whenever the Kraven's came to town, he always had trouble sleeping. He wondered if it was his anxiety of having them so near. Creating a headache that would keep him awake most of the night.

The tonics were a necessary solution.

Tua untied the orange wrap and carefully brought her daughter around so she could hand her to Namor. "I already prepared a few and will send them your way later. Take Namora for me and I'll finish up this order." The baby instantly snuggled into Namor's throat when he took her. She was a welcome little furnace against the cold morning.

The shop filled with clinks of glass and the shifting sound of herbs being ground into a fine powder. Namor took a moment, as he rocked Namora, to allow his thoughts to drift to the photo he had seen in the newspaper. Still confused to the strong pull he felt to a person he had never met and would probably never meet in this lifetime.

It was a feeling that he had never experienced before, leaving him both embarrassed and intensely curious, but he would never allow himself to indulge in thinking about it.

He thought of the photo just inside his pocket, waiting to be looked at again. He would have to burn the paper when he got home and be done with it.

"Namor?" Tua turned to line up several containers along the counter, and began carefully dividing the prepared medicine into each one. "Could you explain to me what the headaches feel like?"

"It's…like the tension you feel just before a storm. Or like when you hold onto something important to say but you can't speak it aloud."

"Oh, I know what that feels like."

"Really?" Namor shifted the baby in his arms to give her a mock stunned look that sent her squealing. "Your mother? Never saying what she's thinking?"

"Ha. Ha. You're so very funny, Padre. I swear you're worse then my-" Tua froze for several seconds before slamming down the lid on the last container and shoving them in a woven basket. The atmosphere noticeably tense to even Namora who went quiet, her large eyes watching her mother like a hawk.

Sun dried Ch'ul and jamaica were measured and divided in to metal tins. Tua's movements more agitated as she moved, causing her to spill one of the tins and she ignored it.

"Tua, did you get a lot of orders from the manor?" Namor hedged gently.

She didn't answer at first, but her movements smoothed out as she placed the tins into the basket with the other medicine. "Of course. Mrs. Kraven always asks for an army's worth of medicine and tea from me whenever they come to 'visit'."

Tua then bent low to brush the fallen tea back into its container and placed that in the basket as well. She glanced at Namor to find him giving her an exasperated look.

"What? A little dirt didn't hurt nobody." She rolled her eyes and covered the basket with a cloth. Muttering below her breath. "They can choke on it for all I care."

"Tua."

"Look, if I don't say it now, I'm going to say something worse when they're actually here." Tua turned and placed the basket on the counter, then took Namora back from him. Her daughter instantly melted in her embrace, laying her head on her shoulder and blinking sleepily up at Namor. "Could you take this to the manor for me? I don't like taking Namora up to that place."

"Of course." He took the basket, rubbing a thumb over the handle.

//Tua was lying alone in her bed, early in the morning while everything was still quiet. She was curled into herself, holding a hand over her mouth to keep her sobs muffled. To keep from waking her still sleeping daughter in the basinet next to her//

Namor took the basket and got as far as the door. "I don't think Nester would just leave Tua. There must be an explanation."

"Don't." Her voice was firm yet tired. She kept her eyes on Namora in her arms as she gently rocked her to sleep. "It's better for me to be upset with him that he abandoned us…if I keep guessing what happened, I will just make myself go crazy."

"…I could always-"

"No!" Tua hissed, her eyes fiercely on his now. "Don't you dare, never without my permission. Let me stay angry with him." She then turned on her heel and rushed into the back rooms, leaving Namor alone in the shop.

The manor was built on the highest point in Talokan. A sizable incline that made you feel out of breath if you weren't used to the walk. It held the view of the entire town, farmlands, and oceans beyond.

It was a large two story home with a dozen rooms, and a beautiful courtyard at its center. The walls within were covered with trophies and souvenirs, weapons and animal heads found throughout Kraven's journeys across the world.

Despite the decor filled home, to Namor the house felt empty. Any object or wall he touched, he could never get a single read on any of it. Just nothing. Like a developed photo that came out blank.

They employed a few of the townsfolk to work at the house. It was good money from what Namor was told, but he was also told that none of the workers stayed any longer then necessary. They did their job and left the second they could. Even when the Kraven's were there.

Namor didn't go through the front door, and followed along the left side of the house until he reached the kitchens were he could hear several voices amongst pots and pans being moved around. The side door to the kitchen was already open. The smells of spiced pork and fresh tortillas reaching him before he could look inside.

"Mrs. Romero?"

An older woman with grey streaked through her dark hair appeared between the other staff, who also called out to say hello. She patted his cheeks affectionately as if he were still the child she had known him as. "Ah! Namor, what are you doing here?"

"Delivery." He showed her the basket and she quickly took it without asking.

"Perfect timing. Mrs. Kraven likes a hot pot of tea prepared right when she comes in." She sets the basket down on the counter and pulls out a tray to set a green porcelain pot with two cups on top. Then rolled her eyes with a sigh as she cut Namor a glance. "Even though she never drinks it until its ice cold and then has the audacity to complain its not hot."

Namor took a step forward into the house, past the threshold, and felt that same chill of fear scrape along his back. "They'll be here soon then?"

"Soon enough, I suppose. Bringing another friend along with them apparently."

That wasn't surprising. Kraven's collection of people were a varied lot, picked up along the way from various countries. They all had one thing in common though.

"Another soldier?"

"Actually no. They're bringing a woman." Mrs. Romero added in one of the tins of dried Ch'ul and jamaica, pouring over the hot water to allow it to steep. The blue and red colors that came from it's respective plant would mix to create a deep violet color. "There was no mention of a name or who she is though. Just a trunk with women's clothing that look like nothing that Mrs. Kraven wears."

"You looked through her things already, Mrs. Romero!" Admonished one of the girls with a sly grin.

"Of course I did."

A woman?

That was something that had never happened before. Namor felt a an intense curiosity and glanced toward the doorway that would lead to the main house. "Do you mind if I walk around the house for a bit?"

Mrs. Romero shrugged and waved a hand in the direction of the doorway he was looking through. "Not at all. Bless it, sage it, burn it down for all I care." A wave of laughter filled the room from the other workers, but Namor could see that she wasn't exactly joking. "Oh! But take that chest that's at the front door and take it to the first room at the west wing while your here."

Namor left the safety of the lively kitchen and into the quiet dark of the house.

All the windows were open to bring in the fresh air, but the dark teal wall paper and dark furniture chased most of the light away. His fingers trailed along the wall, touching some of the weaponry that hung there, everything devoid of memory.

Although it was unsurprising, it still deeply unsettled him. His gifts weren't all knowing, but it was at least consistent.

He walked through the main foyer were there was a wide staircase that split into two. At the end of the first set of stairs sat a large painting of Kraven sitting in a chair with his wife standing just behind him. The painter had captured the intensity of the couple's piercing gaze, making it feel as if their eyes followed your every step.

Namor looked away and found the trunk just where Mrs. Romero told him it would be. He hefted it up and quickly made his way to the west wing were all the bedrooms were located, dumping the trunk at the first room as instructed. It was clearly a man's luggage so it held no interest to him.

His cheeks burned with shame as he quickly glanced into each passing room. Not because he was snooping, but because he was specifically looking for one room in particular. A room that he found at the end of the hall at the corner of the house.

It was much larger then the other rooms, and the trunk itself was clearly different. The wood was dark and polished so smooth that Namor had to touch it to be sure that it was actually wood and not some sort of metal. He nearly sighed in relief when something came to him, faint, but still there.

//Her back was turned to him, a red cloak with its hood drawn up to hide every detail from view. Small purple circles embroidered along the edges. She was petite, and just when she was about to turn-//

"Padre Almehen!! Padre Almehen!!"

Namor stumbled back from the chest as if caught. He was thankfully alone, and he realized that the voice, despite loud, was still distant and coming from down the hall. The chest sat in front of him, calling to him to touch again. He kept his hands to himself though, his eyes on it until he was out of the room.

"I shouldn't have looked." He reprimanded himself.

In the main foyer was one of the boy's from the village, looking extremely relieved when Namor came to him. "Padre, they're looking for you." His voice was out of breath, most likely having run up the hill.

"Who is looking for me?"

"The Kraven's. They're waiting for you at the chapel."

Namor had to force himself not to break into a run, alternating between a brisk pace and a semi jog. His heart hammering in his chest.

The Kraven's never visited the chapel. Not in all the years that they had been there.

So why now?

He saw the carriage first, then a few of Kraven's soldiers standing just outside of the now wide open doors of the chapel. One of them came to greet him with a friendly smile, the only man that Namor had seen stay the longest with Kraven while the others came and went.

"Padre, good to see you again."

"You as well, Mr. Barnes." Namor responded stiffly. He glanced at the carriage to see a dark shadow shift within, the little light revealing Mrs. Kraven. Namor gave her a small nod, but she just turned away. It was a relief to see so many of them not inside. Their general lack of interest in the townsfolk was more good then bad in most cases, but it didn't stop them from acting as if they were the more superior. As if the people who were born here had less of a right to the land then they did.

"He's inside waiting for you. Go on." Barnes waved him on in a nonchalant way that Namor wanted to snap at him. That this was his home that they were trespassing on and not the other way around.

But it would be strange for a priest to not keep his doors open to the public, so he bit his tongue and walked in. The change from light to dark blinding him for a moment.

Kraven was standing in the center aisle looking up at the cross with his head tilted to the side. As if he couldn't quite comprehend it. He turned when Namor stepped further in and grinned in that easy confident way. "Namor, good to see you again." His hair was slicked back in a messy careless way, matching his clothing that although expensive looking was worn in a more casual way. The top buttons at his neck undone with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

"It has been some time."

"A few months I think."

Namor nodded, unsure of where the conversation was going. He gestured to the cross. "I didn't think you prayed, but my chapel is always welcome."

"Me?" Kraven chuckled and shook his head. "Oh no. Never. My new ward wanted to visit and I thought it would be a good thing to introduce you two. My dear?" He called out and turned, holding out his hand to one of the pews.

"Your ward…" He said numbly, Namor hadn't noticed her at first because her cloak had matched the red curtains that lined the walls. She woodenly stood up, taking her hood down as she turned to reveal the woman he had seen in the paper.

Shuri Udaku.

Namor had to bite his tongue from saying it out aloud, the folded paper heavy in his pocket.

The picture had done her no justice.

Shuri's eyes met his, looking a little surprised herself. A black corded necklace resting at the base of her throat. He had only noticed it because she had swallowed, the movement enticing him to look.

She came to stand in front of him.

"Shuri Udaku, this is Namor Almehen. The priest of this little piece of land." At the mention of the word priest her eyes flicked down to his collar, confirming it to herself.

Namor quickly held out his hand, worried that if he did nothing he would just stare at her. "It's nice to meet you…Ms. Shuri."

She bit her lip, her hands fiddling underneath her cloak before offering her own hand. He took her hand in his and just like the chest Namor was able to get a read, but it was dim and short.

//…Shuri huddled on the floor against a bed…blood on her hands and on the edge of her white slip…her chin tucked behind her raised knees...eyes wide…Kraven's voice drifting in like velvet as just his legs crossed in front of her…'You belong to me now.'//

Shuri squeezed his hand a little tighter, bringing him out of his trance to look him directly. "Nice to meet you, Padre Almehen."

Chapter Text

The water was ice cold that morning, Namor's fingers frozen the moment he submerged them. He inhaled sharply and dunked his face into the bowl, hoping that the cold would shock away all inappropriate thoughts that had been plaguing him.

Thoughts that clung to him like a thin veil of webs. Sticky and impossible to be fully rid of.

Thoughts of a woman he barely met and could not stop thinking about.

Shuri Udaku.

It had been a couple of weeks now since the Kraven's had come back in town and Namor felt forever changed.

The curve of her neck, the warmth of her small hand in his, her penetrating gaze as she spoke his name on her tongue. Her accent making his name uniquely her own. Every movement, every inch of her form imprinted in his mind.

Including the bloody vision of her and Kraven.

What on earth had he seen?

The way Kraven and Shuri had interacted when they had first visited him was perfectly civil. Distant at worse.

…But Shuri had looked so terrified in that vision.

Namor pulled his face out of the water to gasp for breath, his lungs burning for fresh air. He kept his face hovered just above its surface to splash some of the water on the back of his neck. The cold settling over him from the water did nothing to make the image of Shuri go away.

He let out a shaky sigh and looked out of his window. The morning was overcast with a thin layer of fog rolling in from the sea. Blanketing the town in a soft quiet. There was a small hope that he would see her in the distance but he only saw the workers in the farmlands.

Shuri was commonly seen walking down the many streets of Talokan, especially along the outskirts. At first she would be accompanied by one of Kraven's soldiers, who trailed behind her, but eventually it would be just her alone. He would often see her standing at the edge of town, staring off into the distance.

There were a number of things that Namor would like to ask her about, but he could never bring himself to speak with her.

The faint trace of want, growing steadily everyday, turned him into a coward.

A banging at the chapel doors had Namor quickly dressing. The knocks were numerous and varied in pitch, giving him a clear image of who it would be calling on him. He was proven correct when he opened his doors to a group of children.

"I've never known you children to be so eager to come to church." Namor joked lightly as they all clamored around him.

"There's a dead man! There's a dead man!" They chanted.

"What?"

"Padre!" Cried one of the younger girls clinging to his clothes, her eyes wide. "Mr. Romero was out here when we got here. We can't wake him. Is he dead?"

Namor had to push them back so he could step outside, finding Mr. Romero slumped against the chapel wall to the side of the doors. He nudged the bigger man with his foot and heard a soft groan. "No," He sighed out, "Not dead."

Just drunk.

"He'll live?"

"Yes, he'll live." Namor let out a soft chuckle, ruffling the hair of the boy who asked. "I'll take him home. Can you let Mrs. Romero know so she'll know to expect us?"

"Alright!" The younger children ran out ahead of him, leaving behind some of the older ones. They looked like they wanted to say something more, but the kept their lips pressed into a hard line.

Namor kneeled to the ground to drag the much larger man into a sitting position, patting his cheek roughly to wake him up, "Mr. Romero?Attuma? Come on, I'll take you home but you have to wake up." The man only groaned and mindlessly pushed Namor's hand away. With Attuma being twice his size, there was no way that he would be able to carry him back, so he walked back to his room and grabbed the bowl of leftover water.

Before he could dump it on Attuma, one of the older children decided to finally ask, "Did you hear?"

"Hear what?"

"One of the farm owners saw a ghost in his fields!"

"Oh he did?" Namor responded lightly, humoring the children as he knew they liked to indulge in these kinds of stories. He turned back to Attuma and unceremoniously dumped the freezing water on top of him, and Attuma sputtered back into waking.

"Yeah. It looked like a woman with glowing eyes, all dressed in a white dress…although he said it wasn't quite a woman. Because when he ran back home he said he could hear growling, like the creature was following him."

Namor had been in the middle of lifting Attuma up into an unsteady stance, allowing him to lean on Namor heavily, when his mind stuttered to a halt.

Growling?

An uneasy feeling settled at the base of his chest, clawing up his throat.

There had been a lot of chatter amongst the townsfolk about weird animal noises outside their windows at night, but there was no real cause for alarm since there was a simple explanation. Kraven was known to have a pack of hunting dogs when he came to visit, and they occasionally escaped to roam the town.

However...

He couldn't recall seeing them once since the Kraven's had come back to town.

Mrs. Romero was already waiting for them outside of her home, hands planted on her hips with an irritated look on her face. "So, you found my husband." She turned and ushered them through the front door, the scent of onions and garlic mouthwateringly fragrant the moment they stepped through. "You could have left him where he was."

"My love," Attuma cooed, looking a little more awake from the brisk walk. His hair still wet from the water. The air too cold to dry it. He patted Namor on the back, hard enough for him to nearly lose his balance. Even half asleep and partially drunk, the giant man would still be a force to reckon with.

"Don't 'my love' me."

"I didn't have to work today, so I had a few drinks-"

She snorted, "A few?"

"I'm sorry to have worried you."

"Worried? Your the only man I don't have to worry about because I know you are drunk in a ditch somewhere." During their back and forth, Attuma had been slowly making his way to her and when she finally noticed she glowered at him, "Don't you dare-!"

Attuma quickly yanked her into a brief yet passionate kiss, and Namor quickly looked away, inching toward the door. When Attuma pulled back, his face still close to his wife's, he grinned, "You look particularly fetching in that dress today, Eladia."

She swatted him off of her, but her face softened into mild annoyance. "Go wash up, you stink. Namor, come have breakfast." Mrs. Romero plated some eggs and potatoes, and placed it on the table, gesturing for Namor to sit.

The sight of the food made Namor's stomach grumble, reminding him he had left in a rush out of the chapel that morning without eating a single thing. "Won't you be late?" With the Kraven's back with a house full of grown men and she the lead cook, he knew her schedule to be packed.

"I'm already late, thanks to my husband. Besides, I know you didn't eat anything, so please, come sit."

"I really shouldn't-"

"Sit."

It was no longer a request.

Namor sat down and hastily ate the entire plate. Not out of politeness, but because he truly was hungry and Mrs. Romero wasn't hired as a main cook for the manor for nothing. Her cooking always reduced him that of a child. A time when she had less grey in her hair and would sneak him a sweet when she came to visit his mother.

She brought him a mug of coffee after he was done and he took it gratefully. The warmth seeped deliciously into his fingers and he simply just held it for several minutes.

"How is Kraven's new ward doing?" Namor asked mildly, finally taking a sip from his coffee to hide his eagerness for any new information about Shuri.

Lucky for him that Eladia Romero was a well known gossip.

"Poor thing, lost her whole family in one go."

"I saw it in the papers."

Mrs. Romero nodded, and brought her cup to her lips, "She's sweet, but she mainly keeps to herself, so we try not to bother her too much. Ms. Shuri is often in the library…whenever she's in the manor that is. She wanders quite a bit."

"I'd imagine a house full of men would make her uneasy."

"Yes, she's young and unmarried so I do worry about her, but they all keep their distance." Her eyebrows furrowed before she admitted, "Although I will say its been largely tense as of late. No good can come of a woman alone in that house. It's like a den of wolves." Mrs. Romero laughed at her small joke, grabbing Namor's finished plate to place in the sink.

Namor wasn't laughing though. It struck something inside of him that made his whole body stiffen, as if it had sensed a danger and his body was going on the defensive.

'He said he could hear growling, like the creature was following him.'

There was something there, he was sure of it, but he didn't have anything more then a slip of a story and a probable answer.

The unease wouldn't let him go though.

"What about Mrs. Kraven? She's a woman all alone in that house, albeit a married one."

Mrs. Romero's smile dropped, "I'm scared of her more so then the men."

By the time Namor was done making his rounds around the town, helping with odd jobs here and there, he noticed the farm workers walking back from the fields to take a break. The heat of the sun had burned away most of the morning mist, taking the extra moisture with it. Which meant it was time for lunch. Ch'ul was easier to harvest and cultivate when the air felt damp.

He was curious if what the children had told him had any truth to it, and walked up to the group to ask directly.

"Good Afternoon."

The group slowed their pace and gave Namor a nod. A range of voices simultaneously saying, "Good Afternoon, Padre."

"I heard that someone had seen a ghost in the fields last night?"

The farm workers gave one another an uneasy look. A ripple of tension flitting amongst them before one of the workers stepped forward. "Do you mean Evie?"

"Everado?"

"Yeah, he was really freaked out, saying he saw a demon. We told him to rest at home for the day, but he's the definition of, 'you look like you've seen a ghost'. It was hard not to believe him."

"…I see."

The group waved Namor goodbye after that. He looked toward the direction of Everado's home and began walking toward it. Unnerved that the group had confirmed the children's story.

Now he just wanted to hear it from the source.

Everado was from one of the oldest families in Talokan and owned the largest plot of land for the cultivation of ch'ul. He was much older now and a head shorter than Namor, but he always seemed to match the energy of any of his workers. It was odd to hear him so thrown off.

Namor found him on his front porch, staring ahead at the orderly rows of crops. Surprising Namor that he didn't have a cigarette in hand that he generally liked to enjoy when he relaxed.

"Evie?" He called out tentatively and Evie simply nodded his head in acknowledgment, eyes still straight ahead. "You doing alright?"

"Hmm possibly…" Evie finally glanced in Namor's direction. He looked tired, as if he hadn't slept the night before, but he still offered Namor a small smile. "You've come to pray for my soul, Padre?"

"Would you like me to?" Namor joked back. They shared a small laugh, but the humor was too slippery to keep a hold of and it quickly left just as easy as it came. He stepped up on the porch to stand next to Evie, leaning on a nearby wooden beam.

"You know your mother and I grew up together?" The old man began, throwing Namor another small grin that gave him a hollow glimpse of how he normally looked on any given day. "I would have married her if she would have had me, but her standards were higher."

It had been a long time since his mother had been alive, but it didn't surprise him that she and Evie knew each other. She had also come from an old Talokanil family. This particular story had been new to him though. He was unaware that they had been that close.

"She told me once that this world is full of monsters, all kinds. From regular men who would smile in your face, to creatures that would emerge from your darkest nightmares." Evie settled back into his seat with a sigh, his face looking grim as he stared out in front of him again. "…I told her I only believe in what I can see in front of me."

The words were heavy with a story that Evie wasn't telling.

"Did you see something, Everado?"

There was no real response from him, just a low hum as he continued to not look at Namor. It felt final, a period firmly placed on a sentence that was not finished.

Namor didn't want to push so he copied Evie's stance and looked forward at the fields ahead of them. Only given a breath of a moment before Evie lurched forward and grabbed onto Namor's arm.

//The night was dark, but Evie could walk across his lands blindfolded if he needed to, so the dark didn't bother him much. He had left his gloves in the field and he wanted to grab them before the next morning, worried that one of the workers would claim them. It was only thirty or fifty feet away from his front door so he didn't think anything of it.

Until he heard the snap of a branch to his left. Evie looked to find something a few rows of ch'ul away from him, slowly standing at a height that made him feel like a child.

Eyes gleaming brighter then the partially hidden moon above them.//

Namor ripped his arm away with a gasp stumbling until his shoulder hit against the wooden beam he had been resting on just before. When he looked back to Evie, the old man was already walking back into his home.

Namor moved his sleeve down to see the deep welts on his skin, where Evie had dug his nails into his wrist. The image of the 'ghost' lingering like a stain on his memory. An image that he could see in great detail now.

It was too dark to identify what Evie was seeing, but he could see the silhouette of a thin white dress, and she looked tall. Too tall. Her thin limbs so dark that it was simply a shadow in a dress standing before Evie.

The most memorable feature was the unsettling glow of her gaze.

Wide and unblinking.

He came back to himself just in time to stop just as a small carriage rolled past him. The driver called back an apology to which Namor could only manage a smile. His mind to occupied with rationalizing what Evie had seen.

Namor crossed the road to get to the chapel, looking up the hill toward the manor. There was a figure standing just at the top, staring in the direction of the town. From this far, Namor couldn't tell for certain who it was, but he could tell it was a woman by the clothing.

Instinctively he knew exactly who it was.

He quickly averted his eyes and hurried into the building.

Namor was accustomed to people being in the chapel at random times through out the day, and was able to tell when someone was there the moment he opened the door. A subtle creak or play of light alerting him to a change in the room.

A pleasant thrill went through him when he was surprised to find Shuri.

She wasn't wearing her usual cloak today, but Namor already knew it was her by the curve of her neck. Her hair pulled back by an ornate circular silver clip.

She looked back when he closed the door and his heart sped up in tempo.

"Can I help you miss?"

"Sorry," Shuri flicked her eyes around the small room then looked back at him. "I just needed some guidance I suppose."

He took his time walking down the aisle. Not wanting to scare her off. Namor sat down in a front pew to the left of her, the aisle between them now. "Guidance? Do you feel lost?"

"Yes... I'm not," She waved a hand toward the cross, "But I thought prayer might help."

"And does it."

The room settled between them, creating an atmosphere that was soft and safe. Every noise outside muffled. Every color muted by the light filtering in through the windows. To Namor, this was were he lived, a place where he was a necessary function for Talokan, but in this moment it truly felt like a home. And he could see it affect Shuri as well, her shoulders relaxing just a fraction.

Shuri let out a soft laugh, "Not really. My family is from Wakanda…Was from Wakanda."

"I'm sorry for what happened to your family. I read about it briefly in the paper."

A paper article that was hidden in a small box in the back of his desk, in his room just a few feet away from them. Folded and refolded so he could look at her photo. He felt his heartbeat increase again, mortified that he hadn't gotten rid of it yet.

"Thank you…" She mumbled, lifting a hand to her neck to stroke the threaded choker. Shuri looked unsettled. No doubt thinking of what had happened to her family. It made him wonder if she had been with them when it had happened.

Namor rubbed his hands on his pants, and stood as he got an idea. When he was younger, his mother would bring out a map of the world and point to the different countries. Telling him they too believed in more than one god.

"What do Wakandans believe in?" He walked over to one of the wall curtains and began untying them.

"Several deities…but mainly Bast. Although I wasn't much of a believer myself…"

Once the ties were loose, Namor beckoned her toward him, "Come, Ms. Shuri, let me show you something." She hesitated for only a second, but Namor could see her curiosity burning through her eyes. When she stood next to him he pushed the curtain open to show her what it was hiding.

On the wall, there were large beautiful murals decorating its surface. Color and shapes filling every bit of space. If glanced at, it simply looked like chaos, but given the chance you could see the stories merged together. Stories of Gods and the people who believed in them reaching and thriving.

Namor pointed to a large green feathered serpent, flying across a field of Ch'ul. "This is K'uk'ulkan. A god revered by my people. Although we have others as well…"

There was such an open look of awe on Shuri's face that Namor's words trailed off, too enraptured with her reaction.

These stories, passed down through generations, were all kept safely within this chapel. Hidden in plain sight and entrusted to Namor to upkeep. It was a little lonely for the path he had chosen, but he was proud of it.

Shuri's reaction, her eyes wide with wonder and acceptance, made Namor feel lighter. A flutter of emotion that he knew he would have to hide as well.

She lifted a hand to touch one of the paintings of people praying, her fingers careful as she followed the outline of hands. "This looks freshly made."

"Every few months I do touch ups to keep it from fading."

"This-" She said just as he said, "Here-"

They both moved at the same time to reach for the painted plants that matched the ones just outside, their hands bumping briefly.

//Shuri shifted out of the sleeping gown she wore for the night, allowing it to fall to the ground…her smooth back slowly exposed as she pushed the straps of her white under slip off of her shoulders…then that joined the dress on the ground as well…//

Namor stumbled away and dropped his hold on the curtain, the thick red fabric swaying back into place. Heat flooded him in a way that he had never experienced. He swallowed thickly, his lips moving but he was unsure if he had actually said anything.

Shuri, looking a little flustered herself, held her hand to her chest. "I-I noticed there's a school here, but I never see it opened."

The sudden change in topic had Namor's mind floundering, taking several moments too long to respond to it. However he gladly welcomed the thread of new conversation. "The former teacher unfortunately up and left one day a few months ago. No one really knows why. We have yet to procure a new one for the children. They don't seem to mind it one bit though."

"In Wakanda, one's education is extremely important. Those children deserve a teacher." Her earnest expression delighted Namor as he had only seen her looking closed off and grim.

"I agree."

"Maybe…" She bit on the inside of her cheek, fingers splayed together, "Maybe I could-"

The chapel doors opened abruptly, revealing James Barnes, his arrival swiftly putting an end to any further conversation. He smiled pleasantly when his eyes landed on Shuri. A slight twitch at the corner of his eye when he noticed Namor. "The Kraven's were wondering where you had run off to. They would like for you to come home."

Namor watched as Shuri closed off. That open expression carefully folded away and replaced with an empty smile and a stiff posture.

It made his heart twist painfully to witness it.

"Of course." She responded lightly, taking the arm that Barnes had offered her. Shuri glanced back, and gave Namor a short nod goodbye. He had moved his hand to wave back in response, but a small twig dislodged from her hair and fell to the ground. Taking his attention with it.

By the time he looked back up the pair was already walking out of the chapel, the door swinging shut behind them with a slam.

Namor's gaze lingered on the closed door, his mind replaying the moment Shuri looked up at the mural in wonder. He got down to a knee and picked up the twig.

//…It was dark…the moon partially covered by the clouds as Shuri ran…she ran barefoot through low hanging trees, through bushes, through fields of ch'ul…she ran until her lungs were burning…her feet severely scratched up…her white dress slip catching on pointed leaves…the sounds of growls all around her…//

The twig fell from his shaking fingers, severing the vision. Namor looked up at the closed chapel doors. His mind trying to rationalize the frightened Shuri from his visions and the prim and proper Shuri she presented in public.

What was happening in that house?