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The following night found Ororo waiting in T’Challa’s own master suite, after she had to after she had to threaten his own guards to allow her entrance. The walls were a beautiful dark shade of green with intricate pale gold designs that broke up the green. The bed, of course, was king sized, and Ororo was certain that she would be able to lie down comfortable across the width of the bed. The bed sheets were white, simple, and in Ororo’s opinion, boring. Her own bedspread at home currently was a beautiful light shade of blue, the same blue as early dawn, which stood out brightly against the dark frame of her own bed. T’Challa had no personal artifacts in his bedroom, Ororo realized with a pang of sadness. There was no photos on the wall, no trinkets on his dresser, no scattered pens and papers, no books or magazine. There wasn’t any proof that someone lived here.

With a sinking feeling she sat down on top of the mattress, and pursed her lips at the folds of the comforter that her sudden weight had caused with carelessness. That would no doubt bother T’Challal his perfect bed was suddenly imperfect. This was empty, there wasn’t a single trace of the person living here, not a single clue to who the man T’Challa was, and suddenly she realized, could T’Challa lived in a perfect little world, where there was no room to breathe. Could that be why he loathed Logan the way he did? Why he had just a disdain to her spending time with Logan, because she wasn’t surrounding herself with perfection? Why else would he work so hard for this country, why else would he have hardly been around to speak to her these past couple days, because his own country still wasn’t perfect.

She placed the small box on the bed before getting up and moving towards the window. The sun was setting, and the sky was burning in yellows, oranges, and reds. Shadows that belonged to various plants, garden furniture and fountains stretched for meters away from the burning sun and towards the promising darkness. Her hands gripped the windowpane, and she pulled up, allowing the sweet scent of summer hair into the room, and the light curtains flew back into the room with the coming breeze. There, some movement within the room, that was better. Ororo watched the first night stars dot the darkening sky, watched the sun sink down below the horizon and taking the last of its fiery colors with him as the moon claimed the heavens.

Please, Goddess, am I doing the right thing? The weather wondered, as she studied the sky, blue eyes mapping out the stars and the constellations they formed. Like all other decisions, Ororo looked at the pros and the cons; she looked at the situation from all angles, because for some reason, she had a hard time making choices with her heart. Wind surged into the room, tangling her hair and providing her with the answer she needed as the door opened behind her. Ororo nodded towards the outdoors and turned around at T’Challa spoke.

“Ororo, what are you doing here?” He asked her, stepping into the room. He closed the door behind him, but made no move to walk further into the room, instead his eyes focused on her, and as Ororo looked at him, she realized that those weren’t the same eyes she fell in love with. They were colder, calculating, and though she could see the love in them, she was unable to see any life.

Ororo looked away and walked across the room towards the bed, feeling T’Challa’s eyes on her the entire time. “We are not children anymore, T’Challa. You and I have both grown, both become something that we were not years ago when we met, when we feel in love,” Ororo was saying as she neared the bed. She reached down and picked up the tiny box, and turned to look at him, sealing her heart for the pain that struggled to break her, to stop her voice. This man was her first love, and for the longest time she has compared other men to him, had a need to be good enough for him. Ororo wasn’t even able to number the nights that had stayed awake trying to figure out why she hadn’t been good enough for him when they were children, she wasn’t able to explain how much he had hurt her when he had left, because being a king had been more important than her.

“Ororo, what are you saying?” he asked as he stepped further into the room, strong arms out-stretched towards her, as if trying to keep her there with him, trying to cage her and everything she could be.

“I cannot marry you, T’Challa,” she answered and reached out to place the tiny box in one of his outstretched hands. She slipped her hands into the pockets of her jeans and watched his expression crumble from confusion and heartbreak. There was a dull pain in her chest, but Ororo forced herself to ignore it as T’Challa looked down at the box before he looked back at Ororo at a loss, and just like that, in a fraction of a heartbeat, his expression was controlled into a look of control, of indifference.

“You are making a mistake.”

“No, T’Challa. You are no longer the man that I fell in love with, you stopped being that man when you made it clear that your duties would always come first, and I understand that it may make me sound hypocritical, because I was the same with forge, but if our duties were the same, if we have the same goals, I would have been able to accept that. I would still love you with all of my heart,” she explained, keeping her voice level, trying make herself be heard and have him understand.

“I am exactly the same person I was all those years ago, Ororo,” T’Challa said, setting the ring box on top of the nightstand. “Are you sure it isn’t you that changed? Pretending to be a goddess can do that to people, but then again, so can being an X-Men.”

She knew that his comment about having been a goddess was supposed to get under her skin and upset her, but Ororo allowed his words to roll off her skin. “Perhaps you’re are correct, T’Challa, and I am no longer the same woman I was all those years ago. That does not change the fact, however, that you deserve someone that loves you with all of their. You deserve someone that loves every single aspect of you, and I am incapable of doing that. I am sorry, but I cannot marry you.” She pressed a kiss against his cheek and walked around him, heading for the door. “I will be gone before sunrise.”





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