Chapter Text
1917
The soldier stands in front of the mansion, never before seeing such splendor.
The Udakus, he believes the sergeant said, are the ones who own the property. They have been kind enough to extend an invitation to the military camp, wanting to celebrate the men before they go off to war in a month.
Out of respect, Namor has left his hat behind and remains in his uniform as he walks up the long series of steps that will take him to the entrance. He doesn’t know anything about the Udakus except that they’re old money, full of generational wealth. He’s thankful his uniform disguises himself as a rich man, since the majority of these soldiers come from well-to-do families.
The Udakus would not be allowing him inside if they knew the truth.
Namor greets the socialites and aristocrats that he encounters, making small talk and being polite, mimicking the actions of his fellow soldiers to fit in. He’s in awe of their flashy clothing and jewels, of their very presence.
He sees Ramonda Udaku, the lady of the estate, heading upstairs in a rush for reasons unknown and uninteresting to him. He lingers in the parlor, taking a moment for himself for all of this is rather overwhelming for a dirt poor man.
“Mother, I don’t want to talk to all these strangers. I was in the middle of reading the most fabulous book about a princess who—“
“Shuri, you must take your nose out of all those fairy tales and nonsensical literature and discover a love story of your own. All of these soldiers are from very wealthy families, and quite deprived of women at the moment. They’ll fall fast for you, my precious diamond. Introduce yourself to as many as you can and let’s pray you land a husband.”
Namor glances up at the top of the staircase.
And then it’s as though time itself stops, and everyone inside this large mansion has disappeared, causing the only person other than himself to exist is that young woman up there.
The most beautiful person he’s ever seen in all 28 years of his life.
The face of an angel, with eyes like a doe, a striking color of amber. Her skin, a beautiful shade of deep brown. She carries herself well, with excellent posture and a soft smile as she descends the stairs, seemingly staring right at him. It feels so intense that Namor has to look behind him to see if she’s truly heading his way.
And she is.
She stops in front of him, where he can see now that the smile is forced, and her eyes disinterested, being forced by her mother to meet and greet with the soldiers.
“Why, hello, there. I am Shuri Udaku, the daughter of Ramonda and T’Chaka. Thank you for serving our country.”
Namor cannot speak for what feels like minutes. She’s even more stunning up close. When she tilts her head to the side, curious as to why he isn’t responding, he wipes his damp palm on the side of his pants and takes her hand.
Her flesh is so soft against his. Like rose petals.
He brings her hand to his lips, not breaking eye contact as he kisses it, watching her mouth slightly open, and a spark to occur in her amber irises.
He does not want her to meet anyone else tonight.
“Hello, Ms. Shuri. My name is Namor Almehen.” He hears soft music being played in the other room, quickly forming a brilliant idea. “Would you care for a dance?”
“That would be simply wonderful,” Shuri replies softly, and Namor remains holding her hand as she guides him to the ballroom.
A band is on a small platform, singing and playing the slow-paced music that is perfect for close dancing. Namor holds onto her waist and shoulder while they sway gently.
“Where are you from, Mr. Almehen?”
Namor doesn’t know how to answer her. Will she make assumptions about him? Leave him immediately? He doesn’t want this end when it’s barely starting.
“Chicago,” he lies, then changes the topic to avoid being asked more questions. “I overheard your mother and you having a conversation. You enjoy reading?”
There’s a major shift in her expression, reminiscent of childlike wonder. Something tells him that not many discuss literature with her.
“Oh, it’s my favorite pastime. I absolutely adore Jane Eyre and anything by Austen. Right now, I’m reading Dracula!”
“Ah… The world seems full of good men - even if there are monsters in it.”
Shuri’s grin widens. “So you’ve read it!”
“Why, of course. Books have the power to transport us to other worlds.” Much like you’re doing to me, Miss Shuri. “It is lovely to know you fancy reading. I do not mean to be judgmental or condescending, but socialites do not often participate in such activities.”
Although it lessens, her smile remains. “Mr. Almehen, how many socialites do you know?”
“Personally?”
“Yes… I imagine a man as handsome and as wealthy as you must know plenty of women who are just the same.”
Namor is beginning to see how youthful Shuri is, which makes him question, “What is your age, dear?”
“Eighteen.”
She’s ten years his junior.
Not horribly different, but there is no doubt that she’s young, with young ideologies. He thinks about what to say to play up his role of not being penniless, but decides to offer her the truth to ease her nerves.
“You’re the first socialite to let me touch you. Hell, even let me speak to you.”
Shuri pauses her movements, causing the two of them to become frozen on the dance floor in an embrace.
“How is that possible? You are clearly mature… Surely, you must’ve been invited to countless parties in your lifetime?” Shuri blinks when Namor is failing to come up with something quickly. Her voice drops to a whisper. “You are not wealthy, are you?”
“No,” he confesses quietly, sensing their time together is already ending. “But I…would appreciate it if you did not mention this to your parents. You see, this is my first time in an estate such as this, and since I’ll be going off to Germany in a month, I’d rather enjoy fine food and drinks while I can.”
“I just knew you were different,” Shuri continues whispering, and she doesn’t stare at him in disgust as he expected. If anything, she’s intrigued, her lips curled back and her eyes mischievous as they shift around. “Wait a minute or two, then follow me.”
Namor is both speechless and breathless as Shuri begins a slow ascent to the top story of her large home. She glances down at him briefly before she disappears from view, then Namor walks in the same manner, quiet and not drawing attention to himself. He catches Shuri entering through a door, and he goes through the same, finding a staircase he wasn’t expecting.
“I thought your mansion was only two stories.”
“Oh, it is. This leads to the observatory Baba built for my sixteenth birthday. A small room where you can see all the stairs right above you through the glass ceiling.”
“An observatory,” Namor murmurs, never not amazed by what wealth can do. “Please guide me.”
He follows her to the observatory, in awe of what he sees. There are beautiful, luscious green plants growing in tan pots, shelves stacked with books, and a single green sofa. Shuri turns the lights off, and the only thing allowing them to see comes from the moonlight and stars.
The soldier and the socialite stand beside one another, heads tilted back as they observe the night sky.
“Isn’t it wonderful?” Shuri tells him. “It makes me believe that the true ocean is up there, and outer space is the sea.”
“Is this where you come to read?”
“Oh, yes. This is where I hide from the world.” Shuri sits on the couch, and Namor joins her far on the other side to not frighten her. He looks at her softly, finding her even more beautiful than before knowing she’s so different from what he first thought.
“Why do you feel the need to hide?”
Shuri shrugs, then meets his gaze. “Consider yourself lucky, Mr. Almehen. You were born a man. Perhaps not a rich man, but a man nonetheless, and that gives you more freedom than a wealthy woman has. You can make your own choices. I may have fine things, and a fine life, but it is not a happy one. It is not what I want.”
Namor has never been this infatuated with anyone or anything, hanging onto her every word, desiring to know more, more, more.
“What is it that you want, Miss Shuri?”
“Ah, if I could have it my way? To do nothing but sit and read, and perhaps on occasion, go on a trip to a mango orchard and pick the ripest fruits.”
They laugh together. Hers is so charming.
“A mango orchard, you say? You would love Oxkutzcab.”
“Oxkutzcab?” Shuri asks curiously. “Where is that?”
“A very small city in Yucatán known for growing many delicious tropical fruits. Mangoes, papayas, oranges, avocados, plums…”
“Is that where you’re actually from? Yucatán?”
“Yes. I migrated to Chicago for work, and becoming a soldier for this country was one of the better options. Let’s hope I survive the war and get paid.”
Shuri frowns, not finding the joke funny. She rests her chin and cheek on one hand while her other touches his thigh. Namor feels electricity where she gently smooths her palm against his pants before withdrawing it.
“If I had access to any cash, I’d give it to you so you can run away and start a new life.”
“Would you run away with me?” Namor asks, somewhat joking again, and he’s stunned when she immediately says,
“Yes. But only if we travel by boat.”
Namor can’t stop smiling, and it only worsens when Shuri compliments him.
“My, you are a beautiful man. Truly. The prince that has emerged from a fantasy novel.”
“You’re stunning,” he says quickly, only now realizing how close they’ve become during this conversation. “The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. And the more you speak, the more gorgeous you become. Must be your pure heart.”
“Oh,” Shuri sighs happily, and he might be deceiving himself, but he swears she’s staring at him with affection that wasn’t there before. “How romantic. Would you like to spend the rest of this party reading with me?”
“It would be an honor.”
And so they do, with Shuri finishing Dracula, and Namor rereading The Count of Monte Cristo. At one point, Shuri shifts on the couch, her head falling onto his lap as she becomes absorbed in the pages. Namor pauses to stare down at her, his heart beating quickly, his body melting, his soul tangled with hers before he begins reading again, a permanent smile on his face.
The weeks come and go.
The Udakus continue hosting parties for the soldiers.
And Namor continues sneaking into the observatory to spend time with Shuri.
Sometimes, he’ll read. Sometimes, he’ll watch her read. And always, he takes turns talking with her, learning all there is about her. All of her dreams, all of her history. All of it.
And then he has the need to touch her.
With the sound of the band on the first floor traveling all the way to the observatory, Namor finds the perfect opportunity to do so.
“Shuri.”
She looks up from her book, her bare feet on his lap that he has been squeezing for the last hour.
“Yes?”
“Dance with me.”
Her smile touches his soul, making him yearn to have that image to carry with him forever. She remains barefoot as they dance underneath the stars.
The tips of their fingers brush, then interlock, and Namor’s heart is no longer beating. It’s aching. The all too familiar ache of longing to hold her hands, to pull her close, and to embrace her drives him quite insane.
They’re so close.
So very close.
Chest to chest.
But this physical distance, or lack thereof, does not matter when there’s always going to be distance between their hearts. Namor is a poor man with nothing to his name. Shuri comes from old money, her parents’ darling and prize. They’re going to pawn her off to some rich man who does not deserve her. They’re never going to accept Namor as a husband for her, who comes without a thing to offer. She cannot access her parents’ funds to run away, and running from the military will result in jail time, and desertion during wartime can result in the death penalty. The risks are not worth it.
But oh, she is worth the risks.
A lump forms in his throat and he swallows hard. His brain is fuzzy and he tries to focus on everything except the woman he must say goodbye to. But his brain betrays him. He can’t look away.
She’s simply ethereal, with the soft glow from the lamp in the corner and the moonlight, looking like a dream, his dream. She’s the kind of woman that has poems written about her.
He memorizes her details; the hint of a smile on her lips, the faint scar on her forehead she received in childhood, her long lashes, how the light bounces off her face, how she looks like she’s bathed in a glow from the moon itself.
Pure art.
“Namor,” she breaks the silence, and he comes undone, the syllables of his name rolling off her lips like velvet, smooth honey. No more Mr. Almehen. He’s Namor. This is personal now.
“Hm?”
“Why do you keep staring at me?”
Because I am in love with you, he thinks. Yes, it’s true, Shuri. I have fallen deeply in love with you, and I believe you have fallen in love with me, too. Marry me.
But all he can do is stare.
And it’s stifling.
Staring at her and not being able to do anything is suffocating, as if he’s drowning in a pool, only the sound of the water in his ears, with no one around to save him.
The sheer agony of wanting to do more, to be more, it is head spinning and heartbreaking.
“You’re beautiful, sweetheart. That’s all.”
Shuri crashes into him, her cheek on his chest, and he’s burning.
He feels that dizzying sensation he always gets with her, like he’s drunk on something stronger than alcohol, a mercurial high. Drunk on the energy of the stars above.
Then she looks up at him.
His heart beats faster and faster as her melanated face comes up to his own. He knows that when he kisses this girl, and forever wed his unutterable visions to her perishable breath, his mind will never romp again like the mind of God. So he waits, listening for a moment longer to the tuning-fork that has been struck upon a star. Then he kisses her. At his lips’ touch she blossoms for him like a flower and the incarnation is complete.
This is something real now.
Something that is going to destroy him.
She is going to destroy him.
With both of her hands on his face, Shuri continues kissing him softly. Namor has his left hand around her neck while his fingers on the right work frantically, finding the zipper at her mid-back, pulling it down with a tug. He works his hands up to her sleeves, pulling them off of her arms to rest at her waist.
Shuri slips out of her dress, then resumes kissing him, only pushing back when a soft moan escapes Namor’s lips.
"Wait…”
Namor leans back, with his two hands still flush against her upper back, waiting.
“I need to tell you something,” she whispers, and he dives back into her neck, her hand wrapping around his head, softly holding him there.
With his hands fumbling around her waist and his mouth lightly attacking her chest and neck, he sighs sharply.
“Say it. Please.”
She gently pushes him back, her two-hands placed lightly at the base of his neck, a twinge of guilt knocking at her brain. He examines her eyes, mirroring the regret etched across her face.
“I am untouched.”
Namor nods, having assumed as such. She is so young.
“We can end this night with a kiss if that’s what you need, Shuri. If you wish to save yourself for marriage, I will respect that.”
“No…” Shuri softly shakes her head. "I just…" Her hands fall lower, to the top of his partially open collar. Gently, she presses on one of the buttons, easing open his shirt a little more. His eyes don’t leave hers. "I want you, Namor. I want you to be the man who deflowers me. No other.”
While he remains too stunned, too in disbelief to say anything to that, Shuri kisses him again. His hand flutters back to her neck, his thumb brushing over her ear lobe. His other arm circles around her waist, pulling her closer to him. She deepens the kiss, her hands tangling in his hair, gently tugging at the ends of the jet-black strands. He groans against her mouth, the taste of her already so divine. Feeling bold, he flicks his tongue at her top lip. She grants him access, and their tongues quickly tangle. Wet, warm, and needy.
“Namor,” she moans, and he tastes the salt of a single tear. “I love you.”
And there it is.
A confession.
The beginning of the end, for he’ll always be hers from this day forward whether she realizes that or not.
“I love you,” he murmurs back, tongue plunging deeper, sensing the pulsing of her cunt against his erection.
The heat pooling deep inside him is too much to ignore, and she’s too much to resist. He takes a step back, taking in her form, that petite body dressed in a lacy white brassiere and underwear.
“You are so God damn beautiful,” he whispers, and she tears up some more.
“I thought of myself as odd… Never— Never having the ache my companions have mentioned when staring too long at a man. I felt it instantly with you… Right in between my legs, hurting so very much. What is it?”
Namor licks his lips while feeling very protective of her suddenly, feeling very aware of her youth and innocence, feeling very aroused that he’s going to be the one to turn her into a woman.
“You truly do not know?”
“Mother keeps me very sheltered. Sex talk does not exist in this home. My… my books do not mention this ache, only what the heart feels. I am sorry for sounding so foolish.”
“No,” he murmurs. “You are not foolish at all. May I touch you there, where it aches?”
“Please,” she whimpers, and he can hear her breath quickening as he carefully approaches. Holding her steady with one hand at her waist, he lowers the other, cupping the crotch of her underwear.
There’s that pulse again, her cunt fluttering. She’s wet, arousal dripping through the tiny holes of the lace and causing his palm to glisten. Namor groans from the heat of her and finds her lustful eyes.
“That feels wonderful,” she rasps, and when he nudges the heel of his palm against her clit, she moans and visibly melts, her knees going weak. “Oh!”
His lips graze her ear. “That ache you feel is your womanhood begging to be pleased. Tell me what happens after this.”
The hand not palming her cunt undoes the latch of her brassiere. The bands of white fall from her shoulders. Her breasts spill over the cups as she loops her arms out of the straps. He gives her a light smirk, leaning in to suck at the top of one of them. She throws her head back in instinct, tossing the now worthless piece of fabric across the room. He moves up to suck at her neck, nipping softly at her pulse point.
"Namor," she gasps, her hand ravaging his hair.
He meets her back at her mouth, whispering against it. Her cunt is wetter and hotter now, ready for something more.
“How does it feel now?”
“Torture,” she whines. “Pure torture. Make it stop. Please.”
“Sit on the couch,” he murmurs as he strokes her. “Legs spread. Hips arched.”
Shuri shudders as she leaves him to get into the position. While she sits, he begins to carefully take off his uniform, folding it neatly onto the nearby table. Not wanting to wet his briefs with any of his arousal, he removes those, too, standing confidently naked before her.
He may not have money, but his looks have never been an insecurity of his. His self-esteem in that aspect only rises from the way she stares at him, eyes fully dilated, mouth gaping.
“You are… quite the man.”
Namor hooks his thumbs around the sides of her underwear and pulls them all the way down her slender legs as he kneels in front of her. He takes a moment to admire her beautiful little pussy, with a clit fatter than those of his previous lovers. That can only mean it gives her immense pleasure, and his cock throbs and twitches at the idea.
“You are quite the woman, my love.”
“Your love?” Shuri squeaks out, her hands folding over her heart in the most endearing, precious way. “You’re my love.”
He smiles.
“I am.”
He kisses up her left inner thigh, trying to settle the shaking of them as he gets close to her mound. When that doesn’t work, he kisses the right one, then he has to firmly grasp her knees to keep her legs from closing against his head.
“You will love this,” he murmurs, resting his bearded cheek against her skin, smiling reassuringly while she’s panting above him. “I swear it. You smell so wonderful, my love. Knowing you will taste the same has my teeth aching.”
“I trust you,” her voice shakes out. “Taste me.”
He begins with light strokes of his tongue, and that alone has her jolting so harshly that he has to pin her down by her hips instead and use his broad shoulders to keep her legs spread. He keeps these gentle licks going until she settles down, her hands clasped over her mouth to keep her from screaming, her heels lightly tapping on his back after he hooks her legs over his shoulders for extra comfort.
He moans when her arousal soaks onto his tastebuds. She’s so clean and pure. Honey on his tongue. He wiggles his tongue in deeper, listening to her gasp for air and feeling the vibrations of her quivering until those sounds turn into erotic groans. It’s not until she’s clutching the back of his head and pressing his face further against her that he makes everything more intense.
“I, ah— I, oh, Namor! I didn’t think men did this!”
He can’t respond, too addicted to her flavor, too greedy to let it up. When he sucks on that big delicious, fleshy pearl, Shuri erupts with a scream, convulsing on his tongue, drenching his beard. She continues to twitch as he licks gently one more, wanting every single drop cleaned out of her.
When he’s satisfied, he moves up to kiss her. She’s licking his lips and stroking his tongue, making a cute face.
“That’s what I taste like?”
“Heaven,” he says, remaining where he is at eye level with her. “Sweetheart, men get aches, too. I need you. Need to get inside you. Do you want my fingers in you first to prepare you?”
“In a moment,” she says a bit shyly. “Kiss me first.”
He presses his lips to hers, and she sighs, her breathing short and choppy. She grabs his hand, and together, they squeeze one of her breasts.
“Here.”
Growling, he dips his head and his tongue licks at her nipple before wrapping his lips around it. She arches into his mouth, pulling him onto the couch with her, wrapping her legs around his waist, her hands settling back into his hair. With one rake of his teeth, Shuri releases a soft cry.
"Namor," she whimpers, and his hand is running gently along the inside of her thigh, settling at the dip where her leg meets her torso before circling back down, mimicking the movements he is making with his mouth against her tight peaks. She feels so hot. “Namor, please…”
"What do you want, darling?" he murmurs, coming up to meet her lips.
"Touch me."
Namor kisses her. A lip searing kiss that leaves the both of them panting. His hand flutters down her stomach, stopping just above her mound. He looks into her eyes, so deep, seeing her soul. She nods, telling him that it’s okay.
He drinks in her reaction as one of his fingers slips into her slick fleshy folds. He nearly comes on the spot from how wet she is for him. He lets a second finger dive in, watching her arch and pull her bottom lip into her teeth. He begins sucking at her neck again, his thumb pressing against her now pulsating nub. He feels her tense, her thighs squeezing against his forearm. He retreats his hand, causing her to let out a small, disgruntled whimper.
"I want you, Shuri.”
She breathes, her hand taunting over his chest and abdomen. "You have me."
She pulls his face back down to hers, the fire burning between her legs rearing its head.
He pulls away, feeling her squirm underneath him. He exhales sharply, "You're sure about this?”
She looks into his eyes, pulling his head to her face, placing the lightest peck against his lips. "Please,” she whispers against his lips. "Please make love to me. Please make a woman out of me."
He groans at her words, slipping a hand between her sex. His touch causes her to let out a cry, bucking against his hand in shock.
"You ready?" Namor asks her as he steadies himself above her, and she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, giving him a nervous nod. "I'll go nice and slow. Tell me if you need me to stop.”
“I trust you.”
He eases in gently, stopping every few seconds to read her face. Her wince at the halfway is clear enough, and she bends into a position, nuzzling her head into his neck. He accidently slips the rest of the way without warning at her action. She gasps at the sudden pinch, then moans at the stretch, throwing her head back in a writhe.
"Are you alright?" Namor asks softly, showing restraint despite how tight she’s squeezing him, making him want to fuck her hard.
She nods, tears lightly pricking her eyes.
“You’re crying.”
“Because of what a lucky girl I am to have a man so caring and beautiful doing this to me.”
Her sweet words make him kiss her, then he makes eye contact as he begins to rock, barely able to move because of the tight squeeze. She’s squirming underneath him, moaning. A sheen of sweat sweeps over him at the sight of her. Naked, vulnerable, and his.
"Oh, God..." Shuri’s hoarse as she lets out the sob. The pressure between her thighs is quickly turning into a burning sensation. Her legs squeeze around him, fighting off the searing need.
She needs to relieve the ache buried deep in her stomach. Beginning to suckle his neck, she trails a hand between them, needing to touch herself in the way that he did earlier. He intercepts quickly, pulling her hand away, replacing it with his, making her hot all over again.
“Come on, Princess,” he purrs as he fucks her, applying pressure to her clit. “Let go.”
His pet name and soothing tone is enough to send her spiraling. A rush of heat escapes her stomach as she cries out his name, her nails raking gently across his back. The tightness around him is enough to stop him mid-thrust, a low growl escaping onto her chest. He manages to pull out just in time, spilling his seed all over her thighs.
She’s quivering, still recovering from her orgasm. He collapses on top of her, laying there for a few long moments. Steadying their breathing, coming down from the high. Their hearts beat in sync.
He lifts his head to look at her. She is spent, looking exhausted but oh so beautiful.
"I love you, Shuri.”
His words startle her, breaking her from her stupor. "I love you, Namor. Thank you..."
He places a light kiss against her lips. "Was that okay? Are you hurt? Did I hurt you?"
She wraps her arms around his neck. "No. It was perfect. Absolutely perfect in every way."
He runs a thumb over her eye, a tear prickling the side. “But you’re crying again.”
Shuri sniffles. “Because I wish we could escape this world and find a place of our own. Just the two of us. I don’t… I don’t want you to leave, Namor.”
As she cries, he brings her up with him, cradling her in his strong arms, stroking the back of her head and not allowing her to see his own tears.
“I don’t have a choice anymore, but I can make a promise. I promise that as soon as this war is over, I’m going to make something of myself. I’ll have the wealth your parents desire. I’ll marry you. Then we’ll find that special place. The one just for us. I promise. You’ll see.”
And during their final night together, Namor makes love to her again, sitting on the floor as shooting stars zoom through the night sky above them.
Shuri giggles inside her closet after reading another letter from Namor that arrived from the postman, one she quickly snatched out of the pile before her father could see it. He tells her how much he loves the lipstick marks she left on her last letter, and how he thinks of her to help him continue on.
“Shuri, I know you’re in there. Come out. Your father and I would like a word with you.”
Quickly hiding the letters into a special box, Shuri emerges from the closet, holding onto a dress, pretending that she was in there looking for something to change into.
“May I put this on first, Mother?”
“No, Shuri. This is important. Hurry.”
Fearing that something might’ve happened to her brother or one of her other family members, Shuri’s heart races as she follows her mother to the dining room. Her father sits at one end of the table, his hands folded on top of it. There’s a stranger at the other end who causes Shuri to freeze when he looks at her.
He’s a large man, and when he stands up, he’s way over six feet tall. His black hair is in swoopy curls, his beard covers his symmetrical face, and his eyes are blue. An extremely attractive man, though incomparable to her Namor.
“Shuri, this is Kent Loxton, former polo playing champion and inheritor of the Loxton family fortune.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Shuri,” Kent tells her in a deep voice, showing off dimples when he smiles and holds out his hand. She reluctantly gives it to him, and her stomach feels nauseous when he kisses it.
It feels nothing like the way it did with Namor.
“The pleasure is mine, Mr. Kent,” she tells the older gentleman, and glances at her father, waiting to hear what he has to say next.
“Kent is the man you’ll be marrying.”
She immediately yanks her hand away from the handsome stranger, and she can’t control the volume of her voice.
“No! That’s not fair!”
“Not fair!?” T’Chaka roars back, jumping to his feet. “We gave you plenty of chances to meet a man of your choice! We hosted all those parties for those wealthy soldiers and you chose to keep yourself locked in that damn observatory with your books! You are of age and you’re not getting any younger! You will be marrying Kent by the end of this summer!”
Sobbing, Shuri heads for the stairs and runs as her mother is shouting after her. She throws herself onto her bed, crying into her pillow, thinking about Namor and how she wants to disappear to that special place in their dreams.
She hears the door open, then her mother’s voice speaking calmly.
“Shuri.”
“Leave me be…”
“I am not a fool, Shuri. I know you did not spend those nights alone in the observatory. You were with that soldier, the quiet one. I also know he’s been sending you letters.”
Shuri lifts her head, her eyes puffy and her throat aching.
“I love him, Mother.”
“You don’t. You hardly knew him. You were infatuated with him.”
“No,” she whimpers, choosing to hide the loss of her virginity. “You’re wrong. I felt seen for the very first time when I was with him. I love him, and I will not love another.”
Ramonda’s nostrils flare, then she takes in a deep breath, speaking calmer.
“If you do not marry Kent, this family will be broke in a year.”
“…What?”
“Your father made some risky investments prior to this country joining the war. If you do not marry Kent, we will lose everything. Your brother will not be able to afford his treatments anymore. Are you going to put your selfish needs above him and allow your brother to die, or are you going to bring honor to this family and protect our wealth and T’Challa’s life?”
Shuri’s eyes burn all over again.
The idea of T’Challa dying when she can prevent it isn’t something she can handle, isn’t something she can accept.
There’s another knock on the door. Kent steps in, having to duck his head to avoid it hitting the frame.
“I apologize for entering a lady’s room, Mrs. and Ms. Udaku, but Mr. Udaku granted me permission to speak to Shuri alone.”
Ramonda smiles warmly. “Ah, of course. Please proceed. I will be waiting in the dining hall for you both.”
Shuri draws her knees to her chest, watching as her mother closes the door and Kent sits on the edge of her bed.
“I’m sorry that was sprung on you. I wanted to take you on a few dates first and ease my way into asking you, but your father was very insistent.”
“Sounds like him,” she murmurs, and Kent laughs.
“I know marrying a complete stranger isn’t the greatest choice to make, but I promise I can be a good husband. I will be a good husband. You and your family will be set for life. You’ll be taken care of. We’ll live in my estate in Long Island. You’re going to have a beautiful life, Shuri. If you give it, and me, a chance, you won’t regret it.”
Before he came in here, Shuri already made her devastating decision. But knowing he doesn’t seem like too bad of a guy to be a wife to, it makes it hurt a little less. Only a sliver.
Because he isn’t the one her heart belongs to.
Time could change that, though, and there’s no other choice. She has to save her family.
“Sounds wonderful,” she comments with a smile, and he’s silent for a moment, those sapphire eyes looking her over.
“Gosh, you’re beautiful.”
“Thank you. You’re not so bad yourself.”
Kent reaches out to squeeze her calf, a sensation that leaves her shivering.
“I’ll see you downstairs.”
Shuri keeps her smile long enough until the door closes, then she bursts into tears again. After a few minutes of crying, she manages to make it to her desk where she takes out a paper and pen.
She was planning on telling Namor about the planets she saw last night, wondering if he was able to see them in the sky where he is.
Instead, she has to write a lie to break his heart, needing him to stay far away from her if she’s ever going to make a marriage with Kent work and keep him satisfied enough to provide for her family.
Because one look at Namor is going to ruin any chance of that.
And thus, she composes the lie, having to rewrite it on new pieces of paper each time she soaks the previous one with her tears.
Namor,
I regret to inform you that our brief affair must come to an end.
My parents hosted a party recently, and I met a man. A wealthy man, who has made promises that you simply cannot live up to and never will. A wealthy man who my family approves of. A wealthy man who I have instantly fallen in love with.
I will be moving with him to Long Island as soon as possible, and therefore, I must ask that you do not send any more letters to this address and respect my marriage. This will be the final one that I send you.
I wish you all the best wherever life takes you.
Sincerely,
Shuri
The wedding was beautiful, Shuri had to admit. She never liked the flashiness of such events, but it was tasteful and lovely. The estate is also tasteful and lovely, and Shuri cannot believe that there is even more space here than her parents’ home.
She stands on the dock now, waiting for Kent to finish playing a round of polo with his friends in one of the fields. She glances up at the green light that cannot be seen during the daytime, then straight across the vast sea to the other side of Long Island.
The sex during their honeymoon was good, Shuri also had to admit. She had to pretend to be a virgin, and Kent was none the wiser. She particularly liked how after that first time, he brought her into the washroom where he fucked her in the tub, hard and rough, making her scream and orgasm and beg for more.
He’s big in every sense of the word, able to stroke her deep within, able to lift her and bend her and toss her and so much more.
The sex is divine.
Absolutely divine.
It might just be enough to help her move on from what can never be.
A hand swats her ass, startling her out of her thoughts and causing her to jump around. Kent chuckles, then picks her up effortlessly by the thighs, kissing her.
“Are you ready to go out for dinner, Mrs. Loxton?”
She smiles, kissing him again. “Yes, Mr. Loxton.”
They hop into his car, and their driver takes them into the city. Shuri presses her hands against the glass, observing the folks who live in the industrial area between Long Island and New York City. They’re so hardworking, covered in soot, and it’s admirable seeing them do the best they can. She searches hard, studying as many faces as possible, hoping to find someone familiar as though he’d actually end up here somehow…
“Disgusting.”
Shuri laughs at her husband’s comment. “Yeah, the air is difficult to breathe around here. That’s the smell of jobs and hard work, though.”
“I meant the people, Shuri.”
She pulls her eyebrows together, slowly turning her head to look at him.
“Excuse me?”
“Look at them. Filthy creatures. Vermin. Begging and poor and desperate. They’re not better than new money folk.”
“Whatever could you mean by that?”
“They’re all addicts and drunks. You know how new money folk get their money, don’t you? Gangsters. Bootlegging. These industrial area folk are criminals just like them. Most of them are immigrants who don’t belong here to begin with.”
Shuri can’t believe she’s hearing him say all of this.
“Those people you speak so poorly of are the reason we have anything at all! You’re the disgusting one for speaking like that! My great grandparents were immigrants from Wakanda! Are you going to call us bootleggers and filth, as well!?”
Kent shuts his mouth as his jaw clenches, and a darkness takes over his face that she has never seen before. It causes her to look away immediately, and she feels his eyes remaining on her as he addresses the driver.
“Thomas, please take us to the hotel instead of the restaurant.”
His voice is so chilling, giving her a fright that makes it difficult to breathe.
“Yes, Mr. Loxton.”
There’s complete silence the rest of the way. His hand clutches hers at one point, threatening to break it, something he is very much capable of. He continues holding it in this way, from where they exit the car to where they enter the room.
Once they’re inside, Kent picks up a small lamp and tosses it across the room, where it smashes against the wall and causes Shuri to scream. He shoves her against another wall, a large hand wrapped around her small neck, not to choke her but to keep her in place. She’s so frightened that the tears can’t stop bleeding from her eyes.
“You think you can disrespect me without consequences?”
“I’m—I’m sorry!” Her lip quivers. She once was so attracted to the difference in their sizes, but now she’s terrified of it. Where is this monster coming from? She’s never seen this side of him before. “I just… I just don’t like hearing anyone being talked down on. That’s all.”
Kent laughs cruelly, his eyes wild, his teeth showing.
“Shall I drop you off and let them have turns at you since you admire them so much?”
“You’re disgusting!”
“Me?” He laughs again, shaking his head. “No. No, dear. That’s you. Losing your virginity before marriage. Ha…”
Shuri’s lips part while Kent snarls and speaks to her in a mocking tone.
“Oh? You thought I couldn’t tell? I ignored it because you still have a tight little cunt I couldn’t wait to fuck, but don’t confuse yourself, sweetheart. I know exactly what you are. Who’d you let deflower you, huh? A butler? A gardener? Surely someone who your folks wouldn’t allow you to marry so you had to give away the next best thing. A poor man’s whore. C’mon, doll. Say it.”
Shuri shoves him, and for whatever reason, he moves back, allowing her to run and lock herself in the bathroom. She falls to the floor and cries, holding herself. Thoughts of Namor can’t even bring her comfort when she knows there’s no escaping what she’s married into.
After several long minutes of crying, Kent rattles the door free. Shuri flinches at the sound of it opening, and doesn’t look up from her knees.
Her husband sits by her side, putting an arm around her. He speaks gently this time.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
She looks up, glaring at him through her watery eyes. “No. You shouldn’t have!”
Kent closes his eyes when she yells, and instead of arguing back, he puts himself on her, kissing her despite her protests as he lowers her to the cool tiles. She’s crushed underneath his weight, feeling his lips press against her lips, her cheeks, her neck, and collarbone as she cries softly.
When they make eye contact, his blue eyes are gentle and red-rimmed as though on the verge of tears.
“I had a rough afternoon playing polo, and I have taken my frustrations out on you. Forgive me. I love you.”
Shuri doesn’t know what to say or think. He switched up so fast and out of nowhere and it’s entirely out of character from what she’s been used to. Is there a chance he’s telling the truth?
“You really hurt me, and the things you said about myself and those in a different class were terrible.”
“I know, honey, I know.” Kent kisses her again. “I know. You will never hear me repeat those words. Come on. Let’s go buy you some pretty pearls to wear with that sexy dress tonight.”
Shuri inhales through her nose, and exhales through her mouth. What else can she possibly do? She has to remain married to this man. Pretending to be fine and dealing with it is better than her brother dying or her parents blaming her for the loss of their wealth.
“Sounds swell,” she comments at last, forcing a tender smile as she runs her fingers through his hair. “Thank you for taking care of me.”
1922 (Present Day)
N’Jadaka Udaku opens his arms wide as he parks his car outside of his new house he has purchased after hitting it big on Wall Street.
“Golllll-ly!” He whistles, squinting up at the huge castle-like home that towers way above his tiny garden house.
So, truthfully, he didn’t hit that big.
But big enough to leave Chicago and move to Long Island where all the rich folk live, and that’s enough for him.
He adjusts the collar of his shirt and begins taking his boxes into his house to unpack and settle in. On his way out to grab more, he sees beautiful women on the beach across the way, coaxing him to come join them before they bound off, breasts and ass bouncing as they run off. N’Jadaka chuckles and shakes his head, knowing it might not be difficult to score a lady or two around here, especially if they believe he’s as rich as his neighbors.
While N’Jadaka cuts open the box that contains his books on Wall Street, he has the eerie sensation that someone is watching him. He glances up to see a figure in the window of the castle house next door, which vanishes after a moment.
The young man shrugs it off and finishes what he can before he gets bored, figuring now is a better time than any to go visit his cousin, Shuri, and finally meet that rich husband of hers.
“N’Jadaka, you son of a bitch!” Kent laughs loudly, befitting a giant his size. He smacks N’Jadaka on the back, causing the younger man to cough. “I finally get to meet the man I’ve spoken on the phone with so many times! How the hell are you?”
“Doing just fine, thank you.” N’Jadaka removes his hat as they enter the mansion. The boys back in Chicago aren’t going to believe this is the type of place he’s walking around right now. “Hope you and Shuri are doing well. This is a nice place. Real nice.”
“I’m very proud of it.” Kent motions for him to travel down a certain hallway that’s full of awards, prizes, and photos of Kent in his prime, a highly decorated athlete. “Your cousin and I are well, but we’d be even better if she’d give me a child.”
“Ah.” He recalls how odd Shuri can be, nothing like other women. He can’t see her having babies this young. “She’s not ready?”
A maid walks up to them, holding a tray of tea. N’Jadaka politely thanks her and takes one, sipping on it as they approach another door.
“I ejaculate into her every night,” Kent says, and N’Jadaka chokes on his tea. “I’ll just say the problem isn’t me. Planning on sending her to a doctor soon if her uterus keeps betraying me.”
Unsure of what to say to that, N’Jadaka remains quiet, praying his ears don’t ever have to hear that again. When they walk into this next room, the breeze from the ocean has entered through opened doors, causing bright white curtains to be blown around from everywhere.
There’s a woman with white hair and deep brown skin, sitting with one leg crossed over the other on the chair. And what a woman. Muscular and curvy all at once, with a gorgeous face, a face N’Jadaka has seen in the papers.
The professional golf player, Ororo Munroe, a sport uncommon for women to play and yet she excels above the men who challenge her. She winks at N’Jadaka, and he sweats.
“Morning, ma’am.”
“N’Jadaka?” a soft voice calls out to him, and he smiles when Shuri pops up from where she was lying on the couch. “Why, hello, dear cousin. Do they miss me in Chicago?”
He runs over to her, and she gets up to hug him. It feels so good to see her finally. He grins down at her while he holds her shoulders.
“You know it ain’t the same without our sunshine there.”
Shuri pouts, touched by his words. She then pulls him towards Ororo, who is now standing.
“N’Jadaka, I’d like you to meet my friend, Ororo.”
“Oh, I know who she is,” N’Jadaka laughs nervously, holding his hand out to her. “It’s a real fine pleasure to meet ya, Ms. Munroe.”
She arches her eyebrow, intrigued when she feels the strength within his handshake.
“Chicago, hm? What brings you out to Long Island?”
“Working on Wall Street now. Couldn’t ignore the buzz of New York City.”
Kent calls out to him from the corner of the room as he drinks some whiskey. “And the whereabouts of your new place?”
“Uh, still need to memorize the exact location, but it’s nestled in there next to that castle-looking place. I believe the name on the gate was Almehen.”
“Almehen?” Shuri’s voice suddenly sounds foreign, dream-like. Her expression has changed as well. “What Almehen?”
Before N’Jadaka can tell her — though he has no idea what his neighbor’s first name is — a maid barges into the room.
“Lunch is ready!”
Shuri seems to forget all about it, linking her arm with his and guiding him towards wherever the kitchen is.
“You still love samosas, cousin?”
“Hell yeah!”
When they’re all sitting at the table together, Kent pours them all a glass of champagne. N’Jadaka doesn’t know a damn thing about the company that made it, but the bottle looks expensive, the same as everything else in this home. Shuri herself looks like a little prize, pearls around her neck and in her hair, diamonds in her ears. Time hasn’t changed her one bit, except for maybe her eyes. They don’t shine as bright.
Maybe it’s all the factory smoke.
“A toast to N’Jadaka and his new life!” Kent announces. “Proud to have you here with us. Cheers!”
“Cheers!” Shuri and Ororo say along with him, and all four of them bring their glasses together before taking a sip.
“Thank ya, thank ya. Greatly appreciate it.”
“So, N’Jadaka, tell me. Have you—“ Shuri pauses when there’s a phone ringing in the other room.
Her expression changes again, and not in the way as it did when she heard Almehen. She had the look of hope, then, for whatever reason. Right now, it’s as though life itself is drained from her.
A butler enters the room.
“For you, sir. It’s of high importance.”
Kent clears his throat and excuses himself. Shuri’s eyes follow him, and after Kent can be seen through the glass door talking on the phone, Shuri excuses herself and goes in there with him. N’Jadaka shrugs and smiles at Ororo, who is staring at the couple.
“I saw what you did at that one course in—“
“Shh!” Ororo shushes him sharply, holding a finger to her lips. “I’m trying to listen.”
N’Jadaka makes a face at her, then stares at Shuri and Kent. Not a thing can be heard through the glass door, but it looks as though they’re arguing about something.
“What’s going on?” N’Jadaka whispers.
“Well, that’s what I have been dying to find out. Shuri won’t tell me herself, but I’ve heard from a friend of a friend that Kent has a mistress in the industrial area. A red-headed bombshell.”
N’Jadaka frowns. If that’s true, it makes sense why Shuri has lost that spark he grew up seeing.
The husband and wife return at last, with Kent leading the conversation, a huge smile on his face, always the charismatic one.
“So! How’s that Great American novel coming along?”
“I’m…” N’Jadaka glances at Shuri, watching her chew on her food without making eye contact. Is she hiding tears? “I’m not writing anymore. Dedicating all my time to being a stock broker.”
“Much better success that way,” Kent agrees, and continues talking about Wall Street. N’Jadaka looks at Shuri again, seeing she has perked up, having her own separate conversation with Ororo.
As much as it concerns him, it’s not his place to get involved with another man’s marriage.
N’Jadaka returns home sometime after the moon has taken over the sky. He exits his vehicle, and something catches his eye once more.
There’s someone out on his neighbor’s dock.
And there’s a bright green light all the way across the water, to the other side of Long Island. His hand outstretches as though he’s attempting to grab it. N’Jadaka considers introducing himself, but decides against it, knowing these rich folk aren’t always kind to people like him. Kent only speaks to him because he’s Shuri’s cousin, something he’s aware of no matter how nice Kent treats him.
N’Jadaka isn’t like these people, but he’s damn sure trying.
On his way to his small home, he notices that there’s something sticking out of his mailbox. He takes it out.
A letter.
No, an invitation.
With a big N and A in cursive on the black envelope.
N’Jadaka rips it open and takes the card out.
N’Jadaka Udaku,
Please do not be alarmed that I know your name. I asked the former owner of your new home about you so I can properly prepare you for what you will be expecting each weekend.
I am the host of many grand parties that are open to the public. It gets loud. It gets wild. It might even get borderline illegal. I assure you that nobody will show up drunk on your doorstep or that your car or house will be vandalized. I have vigilant security at all times.
Beyond informing you, I wanted to cordially invite you to the party happening this Saturday. I’d love to get to know you, as we’ll be living next to one another. I understand if you decide against it, but there is no doubt in my mind you will enjoy yourself immensely.
I hope to see you there.
Your neighbor,
Namor Almehen