Based on a prompt: Write a story featuring the symbolic use of your favorite color.
Word count: 400 (roughly)
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The sun was orange again; T'Challa knew it was because of the smoke. The cinders of the smoldering ruins of Wakanda blew into his eyes and stung as he stood on the highest balcony of his palace. He did not blink. His cheeks were already wet. What was pain? It wasn't as though he didn't deserve it.
"T'Challa." He heard his mother say behind him. "Come away from there. It does not do to dwell on the past." She placed a tentative hand on his arm.
"The past…" T'Challa whispered.
Romanda was worried for her son. It had been two years since the war against Thanos had been fought. It had been won – but at a price, she knew. Her son, the King, had not been the same since. He'd borne it all on his own shoulders; the deaths of so many and the needless waste of so much of Wakanda's proud landscape.
"And you would have me sit on my throne," he spat, turning slowly toward her, "ruling a Wakanda that I ruined?"
"You didn't – you didn't!" Romanda gripped his arm with renewed passion. "May all the Earth know it wasn't your fault, T'Challa."
"I am the King. Whatever happens to Wakanda is my fault and my fault alone." T'Challa wrested his mother's hand from his arm firmly. "Who let you in?"
"Nakia. She knows you shouldn't be left alone while you're - "
"So you take orders from Nakia now?" T'Challa's eyes snapped wildly in a way that startled Romanda. "My orders were that I should be left alone."
"T'Challa, you know – "
"Leave!" His voice was suddenly raised with such a passionate fury that his mother felt a stab of fear within her. She knew that it was too late to plead with him, too late even to stand up for herself. The best thing she could do for him was leave. He was, after all, first and foremost her King.
She moved to the door and stood at the threshold for a moment. "There is a time to mourn and a time to be King. Decide which it is time for now, before it is too late." She turned and left.
T'Challa returned his gaze toward the open doors and the balcony. The sun was setting, spreading yellow reflections shining on every parapet of the castle.
He smiled. Yellow.