Fucking T’Challa.
He grunted and took another swing from his bottle, dark eyed focused on the bottles that lined the back of the bar wall as the door slammed opened behind her. Shit. Even without his sense of smell, the fall of boots gave the new pardon away in an instant, and Logan wondered how the hell she was able find him? He shoved the question aside, shocked that he was even surprised, this was a woman that has known just as long as Ororo, maybe even longer, of course she would be able to fine him.
“Yukio,” Logan greeted her as the tiny woman sat down at the bar to his right. The woman was silent as she slammed her hand on the bar, and shouted her order at the barkeep, her demeanor as wild and as the dark hair that hung down her back, and when she finally looked at Logan, with those sharp eyes of hers, he had to look away, because Yukio was pissed, and Logan just wasn’t in the mood.
“You are a fucking idiot,” she told him in English, and as he ignored her, taking a last pull from his beer, she noticed that he looked like shit. His clothes were bloodied and covered in dirt, which for the bar they were in, was entirely acceptable. She leaned forward and sniffed him, before jerking back as the barkeep placed her drink in front of her. Yukio extended a short leg and kicked the side of Logan’s calf. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Having a drink, isn’t it obvious?” For someone that was just around his height, that kick has a bit to it, but Logan ignored it, he’s been getting into fights since before she was born, a kick from her high heeled feet didn’t bother him much.
“Logan,” Yukio said, her voice soft, a trick she had picked up from Ororo no doubt, and Logan turned to look at her, which was exactly what she had wanted, before the anger from her eyes was gone, but the pity he saw there only spiked his anger. He didn’t need pity.
“What are you here?” He growled at her.
“To convince you to go get the love of your life,” she answered easily, and the corners of her mouth tilted up weakly. “I like Ororo, and if she marries that African Ape, I’ll never see her again. I’m doing this all for myself, of course.”
Logan grunted at her and signaled for another drink as Yukio took a sip of her own hard liquor. “He makes her happy,” Logan said, and ignored the sharp pain in his chest, because Logan knew that Ororo had lied to him, knew that he could make her happier even if he wasn’t good for her, he knew how she ticked, and what buttons to push or not to push, he knew her inside and out.
“You make her happier,” Yukio insisted with a gentle voice, and reached out to touch his arm. Logan turned and gave her a steady stare, and though it wasn’t one of disbelief or even anger, there was something in his stare that unnerved Yukio, and she let go of his arm and took a drink from her beverage. It wouldn’t be until a lot later that she would realize just what that look meant, and that she has seen the look before, when his last wife had died.
It was a look of hopelessness.
She’s only seen T’Challa for a total of three hours in the past two days of her arrival, and she was infuriated, because if this was how their marriage was going to be like, Ororo would turn around right then and there and head back to Westchester. She couldn’t imagine a marriage where she hardly saw her husband, no matter how much she loved each other.
She had spent time with the Queen of course, but a majority of the time Ororo spent her time out in the gardens. T’Challa had once told her that he had them expanded years ago because they reminded him of her, and Ororo had been too touched, so smitten, that she couldn’t remember loving a man more then she had at that moment. That man wasn’t who T’Challa was anymore, and as the hours passed in the exotic gardens, Ororo began to realize that more and more.
“You do not love my son.”
Ororo started and turned around and dipped her chin at T’Challa’s mother. She has never once bowed to the Queen, nor has she been asked to do so. Having once been voiced as a Goddess, Ororo always saw the Queen as her equal, and once she discovered that her mother had been a princess, Ororo stopped feeling guilty for not bowing. They were both women; after all, each one having to do what is needed to survive, to stay good, and to make their own God proud.
“Ramonda,” Ororo greeted the older woman, and stopped her journey through the garden to allow the Queen to catch up to her. She had a hard face, but kind green eyes, so unlike her stepsons dark brown eyes. “You startled me.”
“Yet you do not deny me claims,” Ramonda said as she caught up to Ororo, and the two began walking through the maze of pathways together.
Ororo hardly paid attention to the flowers now, mindful of her interaction with the Queen. She knew that Ramonda loved T’Challa as if he was her own, but they both also knew that T’Challa was his own man, and that he did not need protecting, but Ororo still worried that the Queen would turn her first love against her.
“Your son has never been an easy man to love,” Ororo answered, and turned her head in order to catch Ramonda’s eye so that she could offer the woman a gentle, teasing smile.
Ramonda reached out and grabbed ahold of Ororo’s hand, and the both of them stopped underneath the shade of a large tree. Ororo felt her back tense for only a moment until she caught to gentle look in Ramonda’s eyes, and though it had been decades since Ororo saw her own mother, a part of her felt that the gentle look in the older woman’s eyes would be how her mother would look at her during talks of love, and Ororo’s throat dried, because she hadn’t realized how much she missed her parents and the guidance she wanted from them, how much she wanted that from Charles, and Ororo felt guilt, because she was an adult, she ought to be able to make her own choices.
“Ororo, my dear, you are a smart woman, you are brave and you are beautiful, I can see why my son loves you, and why he believes you would be fit to be a queen, but do not marry him if you do not love him. Do not marry him if he does not possess your whole heart,” Ramonda gave Ororo’s hand a tight squeeze and refused to let go of her, and with the same stubbornness, she refused to break eye contact, and Ororo found that she couldn’t force herself to look away because she realized that those were words she has been waiting to hear.
“I cannot bear the thought of hurting your son,” Ororo admitted in a whisper, and watched as Ramonda smiled kindly at her, the gesture lighting up Ramonda whole face.
“It will all work out in the end, my dear Ororo. You heart is what is most important, and I will not allow you to marry my son if you do not love him completely.”
