Hey everyone! I'm back, and with a new chapter! OK, first off let say this...this chapter almost killed me! Seriously! The amount of research I put into this thing was staggering! There were so many characters to chose from that I had trouble choosing who to use! And just when I finally get around to writing it, my own body decides otherwise, and put me in the hospital for three days (Chill, people, nothing major: just some unexplained pain. Is all good now.) And finally, the feels. THE FRIGGIN' FEELS! Phantom of the Opera wasn't cutting it anymore. What did, you ask? The Lion King soundtrack! When you get to the last bit of the chapter, just play 'Can you feel the Love?' and 'Love will Find a Way' and grab the tissues. Trust me, you're gonna need them.
Anyways, that's enough from me for now, so enjoy you guys, and I'll be quicker with the updates.
One last thing: I'd like to thank the guest reviewer who called the BS I wrote a few chapters back. I now realize the suit would've stopped the bullet, but I didn't so my research before I wrote the chapter...besides, how else was I going to get those two in an intimate moment?
Secrets of the King's Past
You know, I'm starting to think that someone in the Heaven Department delighted themselves on trying to make my life as hellish as they possibly can, or at the least they like seeing me in a constant state of panic or nerves. And I'm pretty sure that, if I told someone else that idea, they'd agree with me.
The last few days have given me enough of the butterfly-in-stomach feeling that I'd be surprised I if didn't turn into a zoo exhibit sometime soon. Examples being that I was attacked by my ex-boyfriend in my own home, I was turned into a gibbering pile of goop by a 'dark side' T'Challa, and a few other moments where he decided to be extra sneaky.
And then, there's today.
I have to be honest here and say that I have mixed feelings about what almost happened in that lab. The positive side was really excited that T'Challa had not only said I was attractive enough to beat a goddess of beauty, but—and more importantly—that he tried to kiss me. Don't get me wrong: it's nice to be told that I'm beautiful (especially by a king, no less), or that he was attracted to me in that manner. Heck, I will even admit to looking forward to that kiss before we were interrupted. Which neatly brings me to the negative side.
Thanks to that interruption (and a healthy dose of reality), all the doubts I ever had came to the surface, and I even began to wonder if I was really reading into this whole thing right. I was, by a lot of standards, and plain and shy girl. Sure, I had some smarts to me, but there weren't a lot of men out there who were truly interested in girls who were really intelligent. And I definitely know that I don't have the prettiest face or have the desirable body. So the question that my doubt was asking was whether T'Challa really loved me or not.
An outside spectator might argue that my positive side was in the right: that T'Challa was absolutely in love with me, and that I've been seeling myself shorter that I realized.
But another spectator would also argue in favour of my negative side: T'Challa is a king, with everything that came with that title, plus he was incredibly handsome enough to make women swoon with just a look. He could date models, actresses, princesses even! So why focus on me?
Instead of getting an answer, all I got was a twisted, unpleasant feeling in my stomach. Something whish wasn't going to help me was the other current situation; the one that involved me having to fly T'Challa to Wakanda because of something that really bothered him.
:Why do I get the feeling that when I finally found out about it, I won't like it?: I questioned myself. The limo pulled to a stop in front of Avengers Mansion, the driver coming around to let Voltaire and I out.
"His Majesty has left the embassy, and will be here shortly." He reported as he handed me onto the pavement. I gave him my thanks before rushing to get myself ready, JARVIS having taken care of preparing the Quinjet.
"How's everything looking, JARVIS?" I called as I nearly burst into my room, throwing things everywhere as I changed my clothes.
"The Quinjet has been fuelled and is ready for immediate launch." He answered, "I have also alerted several persons about the sudden departure, and return they granted clear air traffic. I have also the opportunity to load extra supplies in case of emergency; blankets, medicines, rations and the like." I had just finished getting changed and attaching my gear pouch and shrunken staff into their respective places.
"Thanks, JARVIS." I replied before running out of my room to head down to the sub-levels, nearly running into Mr. Foxworthy as I did.
"Ah, Miss Rose." He remarked as he skilfully steadied me without dropping the basket in his arms, "Mr. Stark has asked that I pass on his regards to you: he and Ms. Potts had to leave early for their business, but he would like for you to call him at your convenience.
"Also, JARVIS has alerted me to the urgent matter that King T'Challa is facing." He added, shifting the basket so that he could give me a one-armed hug, "I do wish you a safe journey, and that you come home safe." All the sense of urgency inside of me fled, and I wrapped my arms around him to return the kind gesture.
"I'm so nervous." I confessed softly, "T'Challa seemed so upset by whatever it is, and I'm not sure I should even go with him." At this, he pulled away to look at me with a warm and comforting smile.
"Even if it scares you, you should go with him." He offered sagely, "My guess is that a demon from his past has come to haunt him, and it's something that absolutely scares him—whether he admits it or not. So when he finally faces it, he'll need all the support he can get, even if he thinks otherwise."
:And remind me again how I can be of any help? All I'm ever good at is getting caught and/or hurt.: I griped to myself. My self-doubt must have showed up on my face, leading my father-figure to cup my chin in his hand so he could look me in the eye.
"And I'll bet every penny I have that it'll be your help that will get him through this." He said in a determined tone, "Whether you see it or not, there is more to you than you realize, and when it comes out, he's going to see what a bright and wonderful soul you have. And, he'll be all the more humble to have you in his heart." I had just barely opened my mouth to reply wh-
"Who will be humble?" My mouth shut quickly on a squeak, though a small sound did come through. With a warm chuckle, my old friend pulled his hand from my chin and fixed T'Challa with a pointed glare.
"That will remain between Miss Rose and I, young man." He calmly answered, "I have also heard that there is trouble in your homeland." Before T'Challa could get a response of any sort out, Mr. Foxworthy upped the wattage on his glare.
"I also expect that you bring home my young mistress, without a single scratch on her." He warned. And Heaven help the poor person who went against Mr. Foxworthy's warning: the last guy who did...eh, we really don't bring that up: it wasn't pleasant.
Speaking of which, I'd better step in before something drastic happens. Especially if that tense set in his shoulder and jaw were any indications about what T'Challa was thinking.
"I'll be ok, Mr. Foxworthy." I assured him, "I'm a big girl now."
"That you are, but that still doesn't stop me from worrying about you." He chuckled as he turned back to me, "Would you like me to look after Voltaire while you are gone?" Oh, the big sweetheart.
"If you don't mind." I replied sheepishly. Said dog whined and pouted at me, but I seriously doubted that T'Challa would let him come along, since he clearly didn't act like he wanted me to tag along.
"Of course not." Mr. Foxworthy assured before giving me one last hug, "Good luck, my dear." Once it sunk in that he wasn't coming along, Voltaire head-butted my side, and when Mr. Foxworthy stepped away, my furry friend rose onto his hind legs and planted his forepaws onto my shoulder to lick my face, then gave the same treatment to T'Challa.
"Ready to go yet?" I asked the king once Mr. Foxworthy walked away with Voltaire acting as his shadow.
"Indeed." He nodded then turned on his heel and led the way to the elevator. As the doors closed behind us and we began our descent into the dark, the nervous twisted feeling returned to my stomach, and began to spread out. I'm also pretty sure that my fingers just started tap-dancing on my though ever so slightly—something that only happens when I'm extremely and utterly nervous. Stupid as it is to wish this, but I really hope T'Challa doesn't notice how worried I was becoming in his presence.
But, of course, I was proven wrong.
I felt a larger hand clasp my own, the fingers intertwining with mine. Almost immediately, I started to feel a little bit better, though the feeling was still there. I gave his hand a squeeze to let him know that his gesture was appreciated.
The elevator came to a stop, and with that his hand let go of mine and his walls raised up, making the air around us tense. I felt a bit sad as he slipped back into his serious mode again, but more than that I was feeling a bit scared by him. I know, I know: whatever is going on in Wakanda must be bad for him to act like this.
I just wish I didn't feel so...threatened by his seriousness, I guess you could say. Plus, he was starting to give off the vibe that screamed 'do NOT make this person mad'...basically, it was like standing next to an unexploded bomb, only you don't know when it'll go off, or what will cause it.
:Sheesh, and here I thought Hulk had the scary temper.: At least with him, you had some sort of warning that he was going to flip out. As for T'Challa, we've never really talked about what got us angry, so I don't know what will set him off. And something just told me that his anger was going to be a lot scarier than the Hulk's.
Mentally shaking my head free of the dark thoughts, I followed T'Challa out and to the Quinjet. Though I wasn't expecting the newest additions to the cargo.
"Heading somewhere, you two?" I nearly walked right into T'Challa when he stopped at the voice, and I had to step around him to see what was going on: Hawkeye and Cap had taken their positions in the seats behind the pilot and co-pilots, geared up and ready to go.
T'Challa, needless to say, was rather speechless. If the visibly hanging jaw was anything to judge by.
"You heard, then?" I asked while sliding my hand under the Panther's jaw and gently closed his mouth for him.
"Tch, are you kidding? What haven't I heard?" Hawkeye retorted, raising his eyebrow at me, and I honestly panicked for a moment: I was worried that he meant about the close call at the embassy. Then it sort of clicked that he was pulling my leg. At least, I hoped he was.
"JARVIS told us there was a problem in Wakanda." Cap explained to us both, "So we figured you could do with some help." As I mulled it over, what he said did make sense: this problem had the potential to blow into bigger proportions than T'Challa could have anticipated. So, having an extra set of hands (or more) felt like a good idea.
:Of course, this IS T'Challa we're talking about here.: I suddenly reminded myself. T'Challa may have been fine with bringing the Avengers to his homeland the first time, but that was under dire circumstances. For all the rest of us know, it may be something small, but we weren't going to take that chance. All I did know that was that T'Challa possessed a stubborn streak that could out-do an irate donkey.
"Thank you, my friends." ...Then again, I could be wrong.
######
"So, what's the big problem?" Hawkeye asked once we entered Wakandan airspace, "Not that I don't love a puzzle or anything, but I'd like to know what it is I'm getting myself into." He also would have asked earlier, but that may have been my fault, indirectly. Since T'Challa seemed to be...a little eager, I pushed the Quinjet as fast as she could. We got to Wakanda in record time, though some of us may be suffering from G-Force sickness.
Well, T'Challa did say 'go fast'. I only obliged his wishes, therefore it's not my fault.
"I would prefer to tell you once we have landed." T'Challa answered him, and no one could miss the strange hitch in his voice, "And when I have more information." I swear I could hear the hidden message of him saying 'I want off this thing now before I lose my kingly demeanour and my stomach'.
Giving him an apologetic look, I focused on getting us to the awaiting landing area, whilst partially admiring the view and how nice it was to fly here without being shot down. Though there was a bit of a worry as to the type of welcoming party that awaited us. Something must have appeared on my face or something, because I felt a hand clasp my shoulder and give a gentle but firm squeeze.
"Easy, Briar." Cap assured in a comforting tone, "I doubt that we'll be attacked again." Very true: I'm sure that they were told we were coming, and as friends too. That still didn't ease all of my worries. But it was kind of him to say so.
Finally, the landing area came into sight. Easing the air-shuttle down and landing with a soft whumpf, I had to smile when Hawkeye whispered 'get me off this thing!' as he and the two other men up to leave the safety of the shuttle and enter the relatively unknown.
Once I checked that everything was turned off, I followed the others. Outside, I stood beside Cap and Hawkeye as T'Challa walked over to a group of official looking people—quite possibly his council—and began conversing in the native tongue. Whatever they were telling him, I guess it wasn't what he wanted to hear, if the agitated gestures gave any hint.
:Geez! I wouldn't want to be in this persons shoes, whoever's pissing HIM off.: I mentally decided to myself, hearing my inner self agree vehemently. Eventually the conversation came to a temporary halt as T'Challa wandered back to us and offered the chance to eat and rest. By the look on their faces, I'd say that sounded like a good idea for Hawkeye and Cap, and I'd also tell them that next time I'm told to go fast, I won't hit any higher than Mach 4.
As T'Challa and his council escorted us somewhere, I briefly wondered at how Mitali was since I had last seen her, and hoped that after this incident was over I could get another ride. But first, I had to help T'Challa.
When I finally dragged my attention back to Earth, I realized that we had entered a rather lavish-looking dining room, all the decor rather intriguing. The table itself was huge, made of a dark wood and low to the ground. The chairs were plush looking bags of some sturdy-yet-quite-fancy material.
And, of course, there was the banquet of food waiting for us. I could practically hear Hawkeye's stomach weep in sight of it all.
"Please, friends." T'Challa spoke, gesturing for us to sit and eat. Hawkeye didn't need to be told twice, though a warning look from me kept him from being too enthusiastic, and too remember his manners. Cap took a seat beside him, looking very unsure about all the different foods, and how to eat properly. Thankfully, the council members were also eating with us, and a few say around him and quietly gave him a hand.
As for me, I got to sit next to T'Challa—mostly thanks to said man taking hold of my hand and leading me to the head of the table. Swell. A few of the councillors raised an eyebrow at me, but I like to think the sheepishly awkward look on my face said enough about how I personally felt about this. Finally, W'Kabi took his seat opposite me, and a few of Dora Milaje stood near their king. One was the warrior I had fought my first time here, and she offered me a small kind smile and nod. I did the same and helped myself to the food.
Everyone was quiet as they ate, which kinda had me nervous. Wasn't there a problem here, that had T'Challa rushing from New York? That question plus a few others were burning in my mind, but a small part of me said to wait for T'Challa or someone else first. That same part also wondered if Mr. Foxworthy was right.
Speaking of T'Challa, he was hardly touching his food. He was instead leaning back in his chair, watching the others and taking the occasional sip from his drink. Taking a careful look around the table, I nudged his leg with mine to catch his attention. When he glanced my way, I titled my head slightly and gave a concerned look. He gave a tiny shake of his head before offering me a even smaller smile of assurance. Which did not do much to alleviate my concerns.
"Oh, man. That hit the spot!" Hawkeye declared, his stomach full and settled from the flight. Geez my flying couldn't have been that bad!
"So, T'Challa." Hawkeye addressed, leaning forward to look directly at the man, "you wanna tell us what's got your tail in a twist?" Cue me slapping my hand to my forehead in annoyance: typical Hawkeye. A few of the council members tensed, T'Challa as well, and it strongly looked like no one was going to tell us.
"You have not been informed?" W'Kabi asked us all, a genuine look of surprise in his face.
"Nope; all we got was that there's a problem." Hawkeye informed him with a shrug then gave T'Challa an unhappy look, "And I don't know about Cap or Starky here, but I don't appreciate being flown at high speed and not being informed told of what I'm getting into."
"Clint!" I hissed quietly, but the damage was done and he earned himself a few unimpressed looks from some of the councillors, though a few of the others did look a tad amused.
"He does have a point, T'Challa" Cap agreed in a more respectful manner, "If we're going to help you, then we need to know who it is we're fighting." It didn't matter who said it or how, T'Challa still didn't look convinced enough to say anything, which was starting to get frus—
Mr. Foxworthy's words suddenly rang through my mind, and it began to make sense about his reluctance to tell us. Maybe someone or something from his past had come back to haunt him, and I knew what it was like having ghosts coming back. Especially if they were the bad sort.
If that was so, then...
"That bad, huh?" I asked quietly, catching his attention again. He gave me a look I couldn't really describe, so I offered a small lopsided smile.
"Bad judgement call, remember?" I reminded him, "so I know baggage when I see it." Even though T'Challa did a disturbingly good job of hiding most of it. But, T'Challa saw the truth in my words and he dropped the look with a sigh of defeat.
"In New York, I was alerted to a village not far from the Wakandan palace; that the people there were becoming unusually active." He finally explained to those who didn't know...which didn't seem all that big a deal. But then again, I didn't know who was in that village so I couldn't make a judgement call on that.
"That's...it? Seriously?" Hawkeye asked, almost complaining. I didn't miss a certain king's fist clenching tightly, even as his face remained impassive.
"Small as the problem may seem, there is a great potential for danger." W'Kabi informed the purple archer, thankfully getting a word in before T'Challa did. "Also, that particular village has been a thorn for many years." Ooh, pretty big thorn, really.
I took a brief glance at T'Challa, and nearly had a coronary: if I thought he was ticked before, then good grief I did not know any better. T'Challa was tense in every way possible; the firmness is his jaw line; in his shoulder. Even though he appeared calm, I could see he was anything but, especially in his eyes. His eyes were dark and cold, like when he talked about wanting to make Hammer pay, only worse. Much worse.
"Is this sort of thing common?" Cap asked, a curiousness burning in his mind, "Problems with other villages here?"
"Not until now." T'Challa explained to him, losing a bit of his edginess enough to talk normally (and I use the term lightly), "In the past of Wakanda, the marsh tribes on the outer rim of the kingdom often fought each, vying to be of more value to us. My ancestor, tired of the pointless and needless bloodshed, finally decreed peace. To further ensure the peace would last for generations to come, he also began the tradition of the Dora Milaje."
"The what now?" Hawkeye interrupted.
"Dora Milaje: bodyguards of the Panther King." W'Kabi voiced as he took over the explanation, "They are the strongest females of their tribes, chosen to protect the king, and act as his wives-in-training."
Of course, I had to be taking a drink as he said that, which led me to inhale most of my water and promptly end up in a coughing fit. Thankfully someone came to my rescue with a firm whack on my back, effectively clearing my airways.
"Thank *cough!* you." I choked out, rubbing my poor chest to ease the pain inside.
Ok: hearing that T'Challa had wives-in-training was a bit disturbing, and definitely a shock. I mean, the lady warrior I faced off when I first came here was part of a group that could literally kick my butt with little effort. If T'Challa chose me to be his girlfriend (and that's a major big 'if' to begin with), they'd wouldn't have a problem showing their displeasure to me, especially if they believed I was unworthy.
Well, if that didn't take a chunk out of my self-confidence?
:You know, this would've been a very helpful tip to have know before I fell in with him.: I grumbled to myself as my self-confidence dropped again, and my appetite disappeared with it.
"Are you alright, Rose?" My knees lightly bumped the table as Panther's question caught me off guard and jump in my seat a bit. This only caused the already concerned look on his face to grown even more so.
"Yeah, I'm alright." I assured him, giving him a small smile even as my heart started to sting a bit. It would figure that just as I finally get the courage to go for something I wanted, there'd be something to stop me. Great, just freakin' peachy. But being the soft-soul person that I am, I won't complain. After all, T'Challa will need a strong woman by his side, and while I may have won a few fights, I wasn't that strong.
You know what? Being in the same room as T'Challa was started to feel a little claustrophobic for me.
"Perhaps you are weary from your flight?" W'Kabi asked politely, "We can prepare a room for you to rest for a while." Tempting as it was, I really didn't fancy being alone with my thoughts right now.
"Actually, I was hoping to talk a walk around?" I asked back, "I have trouble sleeping after long flights." I could just see Hawkeye from the corner of my eye, giving me a raised eyebrow lock. He would know that I actually sleep like a log after a long flight, but thankfully didn't bring up my little lie.
W'Kabi seemed to approve of my small request, though T'Challa didn't seem so sold on it. However, luck was with me and he finally agreed.
"Very well." He relented with a nod. I returned the gesture and just turned away to get up when he added "I will send one of my Adored Ones to escort you, and act as your protector whilst you stay here."
It was just as well I had my back to him, otherwise he would definitely have seen how much that just crushed me. Bad enough that I was starting to doubt myself as a capable fighter, but having him assign me one of his personal bodyguards really made my confidence plummet. It was like he was subtly trying to hint at what he really thought of my fighting skills.
"Is that really necessary?" Hawkeye questioned him, "Sure, Starky isn't as strong as one of your girls, but she can protect herself damn well enough." It was rather kind of him to defend me like that, even if it was a bit back-handed. Unfortunately, it also had the potential to ignite an argument, which meant that I needed to head it off and fast.
"It's ok, Clint." I assured him, and plastering as genuine a smile as my poor deflating heart could manage I turned back to T'Challa, "Really; if it's for the best then I'll go with it." T'Challa looked so relieved to hear that, I didn't have it win me to say otherwise, even as Hawkeye quietly groaned into his cup.
A few minutes later a servant appeared along with escort/protector. And my already fragile confidence began to seriously wobble without somehow breaking (yet).
The Adored One that T'Challa had paired me with was a teenager, literally. She was an inch shorter than I was, dressed in an emerald green knee-length dress that hung off one shoulder, her black hair pulled back into a high ponytail.
Great: I get paired with a teenager Dora Milaje. The message T'Challa wanted to send was all too clear now.
"This is Ce'Athauna." The Panther King introduced to me, "She will be your guide and protector for your stay in Wakanda." And given how long that may be...yeah, I could see this ending with a completely shattered confidence, no problem.
"Thank you, your highness." I managed to say, though a little quiet, and probably not what he was expected. Before he—or anyone else—could comment on my sudden change in formality, I got to my feet and walked out of the room with the 'Adored One' following me quietly.
When the two of us finally exited the palace, I took a deep breath of the cool night air in. The night time air brushed against my face, as if sensing the pain I was in and offering its sympathy, and calming my rattled nerves. For a moment, it worked: I didn't have that claustrophobic feeling anymore. The worthless and crumby feeling was still there, however, and I got the sneaking suspicion that it was going to stay there for a long while.
"Dollar for your thoughts?" I almost jumped in fright as the girl spoke to me, but I had some sense to not make a show of it.
"Pardon?"
"You looked troubled. I thought that you would like to discuss it away from his majesty." She explained as we walked along a pathway, "It is also quite clear that you resent his decision of a protector." I nearly flew into a panic attack before she raised her hand to silence my words of protest.
"It is alright, I understand." She continued in a gentle tone, "If I were in your shoes, I would feel insulted as well." I almost let out a harsh snort of disbelief: she was trying to be nice to an outsider, and I doubt laughing at her would go over so well. But honestly, insulted? I feel a whole lot more than insulted.
"Perhaps we could look at our situation in another way?" She offered.
"Oh?" I asked back, while asking myself what other way was there, other than I needed a teenager to protect me?
"I am in training to become a Dora Milaje, so maybe we are together so that I may learn from you." She theorized in a bright tone, "Goddess knows that our leader thinks highly of your combat skills." Against my better judgment, I could feel my hope swelling up to mend my shaky self-confidence.
"Do you mean the king?" I questioned softly. The hope I felt sank like a rock as she gave me an apologetic look.
"I was actually referring to the leader of the Dora Milaje." She corrected me, and my interest began to perk up a little. Ce'Athauna could see it and smile a little as she elaborated. "Our leader Neela; she was the one you fought when you had first arrived in Wakanda." She said, "No outsider has ever hurt her, let alone beat her in combat. So when she discovered that you were here, she decided that I should speak to you, and learn from a gifted talent like yours."
...Well, I admit that I was a little bummed that it wasn't T'Challa who was impressed with my skills, but when it's coming from the leader of a group of women whose purpose is to defend their king? Yeah, that made my confidence repair itself. If not completely, I at least didn't feel like a dead weight to anyone anymore.
"Well, I'm not sure if I'm all that worthy of her praise." I admitted sheepishly, "But I guess I could show you a trick or two." The look on her face made me feel better, and something told me that maybe this trip wouldn't be as painful as I had previously imagined it.
######
Afterwards things became more open and friendly between us, even going so far as for my new friends to ask that I call her Chanté instead, and I reciprocated by letting her call me Briar instead of Miss Stark. It also gave me great relief when we started talking about her role as a future Adored One, because the part about them being the Panther's wives-in-training was mostly a ceremonial position.
"Personally, I would rather hope not to be his potential wife." She confessed, "Being his bodyguard is one thing, but being a potential bride is not really my wish." It was now that she gave me a sly smile, one that made me a little worried.
"Besides, I overheard Neela saying that some outsider has already snared his heart." She remarked in a teasing tone, and I was just grateful that the evening light was dark enough so she couldn't see how hard I was blushing right now, or how panicked I was getting.
"Oh, don't worry. I won't tell anyone." She assured me with a pat on my shoulder, "But it is quite clear to all of us, and we're happy that you both care deeply for each other. If the gossip from New York is anything to judge by."
At my puzzled look, she gave a delicate shrug before answering my unasked question. "When the king is abroad, at least one of us goes with him. She also reports to the rest of us, and she is most impressed with you."
"Oh, please." I laughed sheepishly, "I'm just a shy, normal girl."
"Which is why she is impressed." Chanté asserted firmly, "most female outsiders are so loud and brash and rude. It's quite a breath of fresh air that His Majesty has found a girl who is not only polite and generous, but his equal in intelligence." Well, not exactly his equal, but I could hold a scientific conversation with him.
"So how long have you realized it?" She asked as we came to the village entrance.
"Realized what?" I asked back.
"That you are in love with the king?" She replied, immediately pointing her finger at me before I could protest, "And don't deny it: I can see how your eyes shine when we talk about him, despite his silly decision."
I swear I resembled a gaping fish, even as I felt my hope climbing again. The fact that all of the Dora Milaje were happy for me to love T'Challa was astounding; that they even approved was even better.
:You know, this isn't as bad as I thought.: I commented confidently. I began to tell her about the time T'Challa and I first met, when there came a rustling from the tall grass in front of us. I immediately brought out my staff and increased its length while Chanté pulled out a pair of daggers from behind her back.
The pair of us stood silently, watching the grass as it continued to move. As I thought to call the others for back-up, the most heartbreaking sight occurred: from the grass emerged a group of children, no older than Chanté, dressed in ragged clothes, emaciated and completely terrified, but I couldn't be sure if they were scared of us or what they were running from.
"Goddess." Chanté choked quietly, the sight obviously eating at her as it did me. The poor children flinched as she spoke, and again as I lowered my weapon. I could feel my heart weeping at the tragic sight, but I had to stay strong if they needed help.
One of the children—a small girl who held onto her doll for dear life—took a timid step from behind an older girl and began to speak in a language I didn't understand.
"She is begging for help." Chanté translated softly, something that made my heart hurt even more. I could never refuse a cry for help, especially if it was from a child.
"Tell them we won't hurt them." I instructed Chanté, keeping my eyes on the tiny girl, "Tell them we will take them to safety, and protect them." My friend did as told, and the result was instant. The little girl gave a choked sob before tottering over to me, managing to wrap her free arm around my legs before hers gave out and she began to cry. I gently pried her arm off and knelt down closer, letting her wrap her arm around my neck and held her as the tears came hard.
The other children nearly fell in exhaustion, but somehow found the last bit of strength to come closer. The other girls, and younger boys, embraced Chanté and I, weeping as they did, while the eldest boy began talking to Chanté.
"What's he saying?" I asked, comforting the poor terrified souls around me. When the pair of them had finished conversing, Chanté turned to me with a look of worry and fear.
"He says a monster is chasing them." She answered in an ominous tone. I could feel a cold weight drop into my stomach, my mind painting all sorts of images as to was this 'monster' could be.
:Well, whatever it is, I won't let it hurt the children.: My inner voiced declared, and I whole heartedly agreed.
"Chanté, take the children into the village and to some help." I ordered firmly, "Once they are safe, find T'Challa and tell him what's going on."
"What about you?" She asked, "The king will not be pleased if I abandoned you."
"You're not abandoning me; you're helping me." I corrected, "These children come before my own safety, so I'm staying here: we can't let the thing chasing them get a hold of them again. So if it shows up, it'll deal with me first." Ok, that may not have been my best plan to date, but protecting these children had to come before questioning my sanity.
Chanté looked very dubious at the plan, but conceded when the children began whimpering, and their poor little stomachs growled in hunger. She spoke quickly, and led the young group through the gates. The little girl with the doll looked back at me with a fearful expression, so I gave her my most reassuring smile, or as close as I could manage. But it did its job and she followed after the others.
:Great. So now you have to keep your word and fight the person chasing them.: My inner self commented before sounding peeved, :What are the odds that it's a great big brute of a man, or even a group of them?: The last part had created a cold sinking feeling in my gut, but I was determined not to give in to it.
Besides, there could be the chance that T'Challa and the others find out sooner rather than later.
:A lot of things have to go right for that one to work, you know.: Yes I realize that, Little Miss Buzz-kill! Ever hear of 'optimism'? And why am I even arguing with you?!
:Someone has to be the voice of reason in this outfit.: Then I'm just going to ignore you now.
:Fine. Just don't come crying to me when you get your butt whopped by this or these guys...hey...did it just get colder out here? And windier?: Actually it had, which I found a little strange. It hadn't been like this earlier, and I don't think it actually gets near-freezing cold in this part of Africa at night. Plus, I don't remember there being a forecast for strong winds, either.
"Oh-kay." I drawled out softly, holding my staff in both hands, "Things just got a little creepy." I jumped as a crash of thunder and lightning lit up the sky, making me look up on instinct and—HOLY HELL! Was that someone freaking flying?!
I kid you not: hovering in the sky, with lightning flashing about, was a woman with long snow white hair, and dark skin. The strange lady hovered in the air a little longer before she began to descend, stopping a few feet from the ground. Now that she was closer, I felt a small twinge of jealousy at her rather risqué black leather outfit she wore, but that disappeared when I realized her eyes were glowing white as her hair. And her expression was not a happy one, at all.
"I advise you to lower your weapon, young child." She spoke in a feminie deep voice, one full of authority, "And surrender the children you stole." Any fear or awe I might have had was instantly replaced with shock and annoyance.
"I didn't steal any children." I replied stonily, gripping my staff even tighter, "and even if I knew what you were on about, I wouldn't let you near them." That was clearly not what she wanted to hear, but I promised to protect those kids, and I don't go back on my promises...even if I was literally in over my head.
"You Americans; so cocky and full of yourselves." She sneered angrily, the lightning and storm clouds getting bigger and angrier, and it didn't take a genius to notice that she was controlling them.
"Crap." I whispered to myself as she rose a little higher.
"Perhaps, with some persuasion, you will rethink your decision." She commented, and all hell promptly broke loose.
I threw myself into the grass, just missing by this much before a lightning bolt struck where I had been standing. I had barely gotten myself together before the winds howled loudly and I was exposed. To hell with exposed: I was freaking lifted into the air!
"Oh, this is bad!" I gulped upon seeing how far down the ground was.
"Care to surrender now?" The flying lady asked smugly, "Though I was expecting more of a fight from you. But then, you aren't much of a challenge." I levelled her with a very dark look, belying just how angry she made me.
It was bad enough that I had been doubting myself, and even had T'Challa throw his subtle two-cents in, but this lady?! Uh-uh, not cool!
"You want a challenge?" I asked her darkly, "Get ready, because you've got one!" Without a second (or first) thought, I brought my staff up in a striking move. I didn't hurt her, but she was surprised enough to fling me away to avoid being hurt. True, being thrown against a wall then falling to the ground wasn't my ideal landing, but I would take whatever I was given.
In a flash I was back on my feet, and snapped my staff into eskrima sticks. I reflected how nice it was to see the moon out again, so now I got to see what a moon-powered weapon could do. Throwing my right hand upward, a silver tendril shot out and wrapped around her leg, and I pulled with a shark yank, sending her falling to the ground with a heavy thud. Rushing over before she could fly, I was ready to encase her in an orb, but she sent a gush of wind at me, throwing me back into the ground. She got to her feet and splayed her arms wide, lifting herself into the air again. As I got to my own feet, I used both sticks to fire moon balls at her, which she easily brushed aside with gusts of wind.
In retaliation, she waved her hands: rain and hail stones the size of baseballs began to fall, and fast. The rain part was trouble enough; it limited my field of vision, made the ground wet and slippery, and would slow me down. Not to mention I would be electrocuted better now that I was wet. But the hailstones added their own problems. As the stones raced towards me, I began striking them aside, moving quickly as I could. Some did manage to get past and graze my skin, and let me tell you those things hurt like hell!
Fed up with the cuts and bruises, I used one stick to create a protective dome around me, the hail stones now bouncing off it instead of me. The other stick I began firing orbs with, making sure to keep moving, while not slipping in the mud or being trapped in one place, especially when she began using lightning bolts again.
I couldn't tell you how long we exchanged attacks for, but I was starting to get tired and achy, meaning that I had to end this before I got into bigger trouble. And where the hell is T'Challa?!
"I must say you are a challenge, after all." My opponent called over the noise.
"Ditto." I grunted, batting aside more hailstones.
"But I'm afraid this battle grows pointless, and I must end this now." She declared. I barely registered the fact that she was playing with me when a small tornado was literally dropped onto my head, just as I slipped on a wet patch and the shield dropped. Now I was in the center of the tornado—and to top it all off, I could feel the oxygen being sucked away from me!
:Crap!: I hissed to myself as I grasped at my throat, feeling the air really being ripped from my lungs in a painful manner. Soon I began to lose consciousness. In fact, the last thing I remember was a strange whistling noise and someone yelling, then I hit the ground in a wet slump.
After that, everything went black and silent.
######
"Briar? Briar, can you hear me?" Cap's soft and comforting voice broke through the uncomfortable haze, allowing me to slowly came back to the land of consciousness. I was nearly blinded as I tried to open my eyes by a bright light, but soon I was able to fully open them and see Cap and Chanté sitting on either side of me.
"Hey." I croaked at them weakly, making them smile in relief. I tried pushing myself into a sitting position, but not only was I still groggy, but a pair of hands on my shoulders prevented me from sitting up.
"Easy, Briar." Cap spoke, "You've had a rough night." No kidding; I felt like I was tossed around by some lady who could create storms. Oh, wait; that did happen!
:Sarcasm? Seriously?: Do NOT get me started on you, missy. :Shutting up!: Thank you.
"Goddess, Briar! You had us so worried!" Chanté scolded lightly, "When we found you in the dirt unconscious...well, we panicked!"
"What were you thinking?" Cap demanded in a firm yet still gentle tone, "You should have gone with the children when they-" At the sudden reminder of the children, I bolted into a sitting position, but immediately regretted that with a pained groan. I was gently lowered back onto the pillows even as I rubbed a particularly sore spot on my chest, Chanté chattering away at my side.
"The children are alright, Briar. I got them to the hospital like you told me to." She explained, "I was running to get the king when he and your friends appeared. The purple archer demanded to know where you were, so I led them to you."
"We got there just as you passed out." Cap took over, "Hawkeye almost lost it and tried to attack the lady you fought, but T'Challa stopped him before he shot off another arrow." Ah, that explains the strange whistling noise I heard before I completely went out.
"And.. the lady?" I asked quietly, wincing at the tightness in my voice. At least it didn't hurt my chest again. It was a worry, though, when they didn't say anything to me but gave each other a look. I was about to ask what was going on when a door opened. I lifted my head and saw the storm-creating lady there.
"Briar!" Chanté yelped as I lurched forward again, only to get more pain in my chest again—this time making me whimper, as I tried to catch my breath again.
"Careful, girl, careful." Cap tried to sooth as both he and Chanté pushed me back down, "It's alright Briar—she's on our side."
"What?!" I rasped out, whimpering again at the harsh raspy feeling in my throat and pain in my lungs.
"She's on our side." Cap repeated as the lady in question came closer to us, "In fact, she's an old friend of Panther's." I finally stopped fighting, but not because the pain had stopped, but because of the bombshell Cap just dropped on me.
"His friend?" I repeated, looking from him to her to Chanté, the later giving a nod to confirm what Cap had told me.
OK then. T'Challa has a friend who can manipulate the weather...WHY WASN'T I TOLD?! Did he think it wasn't that big a deal to mention he was friends with a woman who can literally suck the air from a person's lungs?! Or direct frigging lightning bolts wherever she wanted?! I could've been killed!
"That would've been helpful to know before I got myself beaten up." I remarked dryly, causing the lady to give me an apologetic wince.
"That appears to a common thought today." She responded before turning her attention to Cap, "your archer friend is most displeased with T'Challa for this, and is having...eh, words." Even I knew that she really meant Hawkeye was tearing into the poor king.
"I'd better go settle it, then." I began only for Cap to gently push me back against the pillows.
"No can do, soldier." He informed me, "You can't leave that bed until the doctor gives you the all clear. I'll go." Seeing as I was beat, I nodded and cap got up, leaving just us girls in the room. Talk about an awkward moment.
"So, how much trouble did you get into?" I asked Chanté.
"A lot." She grimaced, "It would have been much worse if your archer friend had not stepped in to defend my actions." Sounds like Hawkeye: he knew that I a soft spot for children, and would do everything I could to protect them.
Still, I had a sneaking suspicion that T'Challa was going to make this visit harder before it got any easier.
Before the awkwardness could move in again, the lady finally introduced herself as Ororo Munroe, and she was a mutant from New York City...ok, so she's a mutant that can manipulate weather. Huh. Go figure.
"I was born in New York, but I grew up in Cairo, Egypt." She explained as we all nibbled at the fruit platter a servant had brought in for my breakfast. "I was 15 when I first met T'Challa on his walkabout." She explained the circumstances of how they met, and I couldn't help but notice how it was almost the same as my encounter with the king.
A small part of me twinged in jealousy: it didn't like how fondly Ororo was talking of T'Challa, but I pinned that down to her having known him longer, and nothing more.
"So, tell me Briar. How did you meet T'Challa?" Ororo asked. Ooh, this is going to get interesting.
"Well, the first time I saw him was a few years ago, when we were taking our physics degree at Oxford." I told her, "But I only found that out about 3 months ago, when he rescued me from a group of thugs." That small part I mentioned before? It felt incredibly smug as a look of surprise crept onto Ororo's face, and I fought to keep it down. Being chased by a group of idiots is not something to be smug about, especially when weapons were involved.
"Goddess, that is quite the meeting." Ororo finally remarked, "And so like my own. I wonder, perhaps he has begun a habit of rescuing damsels in distress." Again, the twinge of jealousy was back, stronger than before: it did not like the thought of T'Challa rescuing another girl and potentially falling in with them.
A sickening cold sensation dropped into my stomach and spread. What if the same thing happened to Ororo? Did she fall in love with him as I did? And did...does she still love him, after all this time? I quickly squished that thought away, even as I hoped that wasn't true.
"He...he certain has that sort of pull, doesn't he?" I joked lightly, though my smile didn't quite match what I was trying to feel. Ororo seemed to buy it, but I knew that Chanté wasn't convinced, though she thankfully kept quiet.
"Indeed." Ororo nodded, reaching for a piece of melon, "I must admit how enchanting it was to be in his presence; the mysterious air that surrounded him, the graceful way he moved, how deep his voice was. But what I found most alluring were his eyes, and the way they'd pierce my soul when he looked at me as we slept under the stairs."
I had been a tad upset before, but that had been changing to increasing dismay as she talked on about his 'pull'. Now, I was trying hard not to begin crying, because I realized that not only had Ororo been in love with T'Challa but she still is. And their relationship was probably more intimate than she was letting on.
:Great; I've fallen for an African Casanova.: I mentally choked, feeling my throat begin to close up. I knew I was about to start crying, but I'll be damned if I did it in front of an audience.
"Briar, you look a little tired." Chanté suddenly chimed in, "Maybe you need a nap?" God Bless that girl, what would I do without her?
Apparently, I did look tired enough to convince Ororo, and they both left me in peace. Once the door shut behind them, I pulled a pillow from behind me and pressed my face into it, the plush material and thickness muffling my sobs.
He had another girl? He had Ororo on a string, and he was being Mr. Seductive to me?! What the hell was he thinking?! What am I thinking?! Oh God, what do I do?!
######
It was in the afternoon that I was finally allowed to get up and roam. After crying my sorrows into a pillow, I somehow drifted off to sleep, but even that didn't help. Especially when my mind would torture me by playing images of T'Challa courting other women and going behind their backs to court other women again. It was mean of me to think like that, but I could no longer bring myself to care anymore.
So it was a relief when the doctor woke me up later, and gave me a check over. The bruises and cuts I had incurred would heal over time and my lungs functioned as good as before, so I was allowed to leave my bed.
Chanté appeared after he gave me the all clear, with a spare set of clothes for me. Once I had a shower, and got rid of the red puffiness (I wonder why the doctor didn't say anything), I changed into the fresh clothes: a pair of beige shorts cut mid thigh length, a pair of flat soled shoes and a red dress Chanté had borrowed from one of her friends.
Ok, the shorts and shoes were fine. The dress? I think Chanté misjudged my size by a little. I had to shimmy into that thing, which ended up being a little snug around my chest and stomach. When I came out to show her, Chanté tried so hard not to laugh, but she managed to give an encouraging smile, which did make me smile a bit.
After that little pick-me-up, my friend/protector offered to take me on a walk throughout the village again, something the doctor approved of. It wasn't until we got outside that she confessed that she was supposed to bring me to T'Challa as soon as I had woken up.
"After this morning, though, I felt it may be wise to avoid him." She shrugged, and gladly returned the fierce hug I gave her in gratitude. Yeah, after this morning, I definitely planned on avoiding T'Challa. For a long time.
Instead of going to meet the man who broke my heart, I was led around the village again, this time shown points of interest and the history behind them all. We took a quick stop to get something to eat, then Chanté suggested we go and visit the children from last night.
We also ran into W'Kabi who was heading there himself. He wasn't happy that Chanté had disobeyed another of her king's order, but when I told him that I really wanted to check up on the children, he relented and let us follow.
The Wakandan hospital was not what I expected: it was like stepping from Africa into any outsider hospital...sort of. The ward where the children were being kept was certainly flashy enough. Speaking of children, as soon as they saw Chanté and I enter, they called to us happily, to the amusement of the nurses. Being the softy that I am, I went to each other them and gave them hugs—whilst being careful about the IV drips and various other tubes.
The little girl with the doll hugged me back with no intention of letting me go again, so I sat beside her on the bed, listening to her chatter in her language. Chanté provided the translation, even as a pair of boys curled in her lap for hugs themselves. W'Kabi gave me a smile at the sight before going to the other children who couldn't leave their beds, probably to ask them about how they came to the village.
For a time, I could relax and let these children hug me till they were content, while being grateful that I could have helped them at all.
At one point, they asked me for a story, even though I couldn't speak their language. But I complied and began reciting Alice in Wonderland off by heart, feeling happy as the children hung off my words. We had gotten to the part with the Mad Hatter's Tea Party when the doctors came around, saying that the children needed to be checked over and have their meals. Chanté and I promised to come back to finish the story, then followed W'Kabi outside.
"They were quite drawn to you, Miss Stark." He commented, a warm smile on his face. I could feel a warmth spread across my cheeks, especially when Chanté playfully elbowed my side with a smile, but I didn't give W'Kabi a reply. I did, however, ask him if the children told him anything about before they were found, and grew worried when his smile dropped and turned grave.
"All are from the same village that concerned us yesterday." He informed me. That wasn't something I was expecting to hear: I had thought that the village in question would be attempting something...bigger, and more dangerous, but to send their starving children?
"It doesn't make any sense." I pondered out loud, "why would they send their children here? Everyone gave the impression that neither you or them have anything to do with each other."
"Unless they have become desperate for something." Chanté added, making W'Kabi nod.
"They are." He remarked quietly. I knew he didn't have the elaborate further—this matter clearly affect the king and Wakanda more than me—but need I remind people that I almost got my backside mistakenly fried for protecting those kids? I think I deserve a little give here.
"It is fortunate, then, that you have come to our aid." W'Kabi sighed, "if what the poor children have told me is true, then King T'Challa will need all the help he can receive." At our confused looks, W'Kabi motioned for us to follow him somewhere. That somewhere turned out to be an empty office, where he told us to sit.
"This village I speak of holds a dark and terrible secret from the king's past." He began, his voice grave and face solemn. "It began long ago, when T'Chaka was king, and T'Challa was a young boy." Something in my mind twitched, rustling up old memories. T'Challa told me about his childhood, but he never mentioned something bad happened.
:Then again, you two had barely known each other back then, and you never mentioned Hammer, either.: My inner voice reason. True, so I guess I couldn't really complain too much.
"In that village, there was another young boy: the son of the tribe chieftain. His name was N'Jadaka. When they were young boys, they were as close as friends could be, so much that they were like brothers to each other. Always getting into trouble together, causing mischief and delight." I almost choked with laughter at the mental image: a young T'Challa causing trouble? That was hard to imagine, but pretty damn funny too.
"Then came the day no one can ever forget." The twisted feeling returned to my stomach, and with a nasty vengeance. Something about this did not sound happy.
"The tribe chieftain had long resented the Panther tribe and its king, and desired to replace him." W'Kabi sighed heavily, "There was a coup; bloody and violent. It ended with the tribe's surrender, and their leader's death at the hands of the Black Panther." I couldn't help it—I winced at the mental image. I also had a feeling that this N'Jadaka kid wasn't too happy about having his best friend's father kill his own.
"What about N'Jadaka?" I asked quietly. W'Kabi gave me a sad look, one that made my heart hurt painfully.
"At first, the boy was in shock: he had been with T'Challa and the other children in safety. But when he finally understood that his father had been killed and his entire village cast out from Wakanda...N'Jadaka turned on T'Challa in the most evil way." Oh, god. Don't say torture, don't say it!
:Wait, if it was torture, then wouldn't there have been scars on his body?: My inner voice asked. Technically, I had seen T'Challa half naked, and the exposed skin bore no scars, or indications that he had been tortured...but, there's more than one way, to break somebody.
"T'Challa was taken from the safety of the palace, and subjected to the most horrendous mental and emotional torture at the hands of his former friends and brother. The king and his Dora Milaje found them both, but T'Challa...he was never the same after that day. He could never fully trust anyone, always seeking leverage against them in case they too turned on him, and always keeping secrets to himself."
As he spoke, I thought back on my actions this morning. Sure, I was pissed that T'Challa never told me about Ororo or their history together, but after learning what the poor guy went through as a kid, can I really blame him? I was tortured myself not that long ago, and I can still remember how hard it was for me to open up. Especially when it came to secrets; how paranoid I got if someone were to find them out, it was more painful than being hurt in the first place. Made you feel vulnerable.
My only saving grace was that I had Alenka to talk me through it, not to mention Tony after his 'adventure' in Afghanistan, when he had the mini arc reactor implanted in his chest. I also had Hawkeye, Quartermaine, even Fury himself! I had all of those people helping me through, did T'Challa have anyone like that? To understand that the aftermath was more horrible than the event itself?
"What about N'Jadaka?" Chanté asked softly, "What did King T'Chaka do to him?"
"The late king exiled him from Wakanda, never to return to the land he was born." W'Kabi answered, "Our intelligence networks attempted to keep a watchful eye on him, but he is as cunning as King T'Challa himself: he eluded all our best efforts. Until yesterday, when scouts not only noticed the village becoming more active, but spotted him within the village walls."
Now I understood why T'Challa was so desperate to get back here: having your abuser on your own turf is more than enough to trigger the memories of what happened. Trust me, I knew how that felt.
It probably explained why I was given one of the Dora as my bodyguard, even an in-training one: if N'Jadaka ever knew that I was here, there's an all too real chance that I'd be kidnapped and tortured too, and T'Challa would never be at peace with my blood on his hands.
:Wow, now I feel like a total bitch.: I whined to myself as my shoulders slumped, :I was too busy thinking about my own feelings to notice how bad this must be for him.: How could I be so selfish? Maybe I'd better go apologize for being a cow? Which actually sounded like a good idea.
"I'd..." I croaked, pausing to clear my throat a little before trying again, "I'd better go see the king." I just hope this doesn't end as badly as I think it will. Well...here goes nothing.
######
Ok, I admit it! I chickened out and didn't go to see him. I was so worried about what I'd say to him, and how he'd react (badly, in my scenarios), that I ended up wandering around the village again.
It was a long walk; it was well into the evening when I found myself in a secluded garden, surrounded by high white walls. The garden was beautiful, with several small lanterns burning to reveal the different flowers, bushes, trees, and a large pond. One edge of the pond was raised, enough for someone to sit and have their toes barely get wet, and a tree to provide shade in the day time, so it was there that I made myself comfortable.
Slipping off my shoes, I dangled my feet over the edge, the coolness of the water touching the soles of my feet gently. I leaned my elbows on my legs as balance, so I wouldn't tip over as I looked at my reflection and got lost in my thoughts.
First off, I found out that the Dora Milaje had the potential to be the king's wife. However, Chanté expressed that she and the others were hoping he would fall in love with me (if he wasn't already, as they claim), and they also admired my fighting skills. So, my problem with that fact was cured, in a way.
Secondly, there was Ororo. She wasn't a bad person; even though we mistook each other for a bad one. In fact, she was a very kind, gentle, and altogether nice woman...with an attractive figure and revealing leather uniform. So really, I can probably chalk my issue there as to me being completely jealous of her beauty...and that T'Challa never told me he had a girlfriend.
Which sort of brought me to thought number three: that the village T'Challa was so worried about was the home of his former brother-like friend turned torturer, and due to said torturer, T'Challa now had a habit of not sharing secrets.
Begrudgingly, I had to admit that I couldn't fault him for it, no matter how much it rankled. Wow...now I know how Tony felt when I didn't tell him any of my secrets, especially the latest one about T'Challa and when he used to sneak into my room at night.
You know, I think I just had a breakthrough. It doesn't matter how bad I hurt because of his secrets, because it was nothing compared to what T'Challa had to go through; like watching the friend he treated as a brother turn against him and mentally and emotionally abuse him.
:Great, now that you've come to that realization, you do remember that at some point, T'Challa will have to confront him?: My inner self spoke, and I had to groan softly at that. As if things weren't testy enough around here.
I gave a heavy sigh as I leaned back on the ground, my hands behind my head, to watch the sky darken into night, the bright pinpricks of stars coming out to shine. It was so calming, watching something so innocent and pure go about its business, not worried about anything or anyone harming it.
"Pretty." I commented to myself.
"I've seen someone more so." I tilted my head further back to see T'Challa standing behind me, leaning against the tree as he looked down at me. Dammit, I hate it when he does that.
"You know, you might have heard of something called a cowbell?" I asked him with a slightly annoyed tone, "you may want to wear one the next time you want to sneak up on a girl."
"Why, my dear Rose." He chided in a joking manner, "Where would the fun be if I did that?" I rolled my eyes at him, then noticed that at this angle, he had an excellent view of my cleavage. One which he was taking advantage of right now, and enjoying greatly. And no, I couldn't deny that I didn't feel a thrill go up my spine.
"Ahem, excuse me, your highness?" I politely coughed then gestured to my head, "My eyes are located here, not at chest height." It was my turn to smirk when he looked away in embarrassment as his cheeks darkened. Deciding to go easy on him, I sat upright to put my shoes back on before getting to my feet, and I could feel his gaze on my back as I dusted myself off, which sent another thrill up my spine.
"I do believe the colour suits you." He commented as I straightened up, "As does that dress." I was sorely tempted to ask if he only said that because this dress was pushing my—ahem—upper assets together and up, but I managed to curb my curiosity.
"I'll keep that in mind." I replied before turning to face him, "So what brings you here, or are you here merely to shower me with flattery?"
"To be honest, Rose, I have been trying to find you all day." He remarked, losing all sense of teasing from his voice and body, "I know I gave orders to Ce'Athauna to—"
"Chanté." I blurted out, then gave a sheepish look when he raised an eyebrow at me, "I couldn't get my tongue around her name, so she's letting me call her Chanté instead." Then I gave a wince, knowing I had to tell him the truth eventually.
"And I...I sort asked her not to take me to you." I added, bringing my hands together and fiddling my fingers.
"You did?" He asked incredulously, "But...why? Surely, you must've known how worried we were after your battle with Ororo? Her attacks could have—"
"I know; her attacks could've gotten me killed." I cut across him, feeling a little annoyed at him. Hey, I couldn't help it if it seemed like he was condescending me! "And need I point out that, had I known Ororo was your friend in the first place, that fight wouldn't have happened?" I asked him whilst raising my eyebrow, almost daring him to say a comeback.
He knew I had him at that, and shut his mouth with a sigh and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Not informing you of her was a mistake, I will admit to that." He agreed before dropping his hand and pinning me with a look, "But you should have alerted us that you were in trouble, nor have stayed behind. Ce'Athauna is more than—"
"Chanté! And I told her to take the children to safety." I cut across him in a huff, "What, did you seriously expect me to be selfish about my safety over a group of children? I resent that!" Now T'Challa looked thoroughly annoyed at me; this first I've ever seen him while directed at me.
"Must you be so difficult about your safety?" He demanded me, "Just five days ago you were attacked by your former lover, and when I give you protection you disregard her help!"
"Oh, you mean the help you forced on me?" I threw back angrily, "You never asked me if I wanted a bodyguard! You just assumed that I needed someone to protect me, plus you had the gall to use one of your own Dora as my protector!"
"Because they can help you!" He snapped angrily, "There are many dangers in Wakanda, and they are trained to protect me—and you—from them! And they have been to fight against mutants like Ororo."
"Again, who you never told me about." I growled angrily, "In fact, it was up to Ororo herself to tell me how you two knew each other!"
"Why are you so obsessed with Ororo and I?!" He demanded, "We are just friends, and nothing more!"
"BECAUSE SHE LOVES YOU!" I finally yelled. Everything went so quiet, not even the wind dared to utter a sound. T'Challa could only stare at me in shock, while I finally felt my poor little heart break with one little sentence.
"She loves you, and you stand there telling me you're just friends?" I said in a softer voice, my tears falling down my cheeks as I tried to breath normally, "I had to listen to her talk about you, how you met, and how... so damn perfect she found you! Chanté had to lie that I needed rest to get Ororo to leave, when she knew how upset I was getting.
"But do you know what was even harder?" I choked out, but didn't give him the chance to answer, "I now understand why you never told me. Not because she's more beautiful than me, or able to protect herself. You never told me, because of him. Because of N'Jadaka. And it hurts, knowing that you can never trust me as much as I trust you." The tears finally got too much, and as I turned around, I buried my face in my hands, hoping to muffle the sounds of my sobs.
Minutes passed by, and even as my sobs started to lessen, I could still feel T'Challa standing behind me, and I silently began wishing he'd just leave me alone.
"Rose." He spoke in a soft tone, one that nearly brought me to my knees.
"Don't." I hiccupped as I started wiping at my tears, "Just...go. Please." Dammit, why do I always cry so much? And always in front of him?
"Ororo knew." He spoke, still using that same tone. I let out a choked sob, trying so hard not to listen to him. If I did, then I'd...what?
"Ororo knew what you were really feeling; she could see through your ruse." He repeated, "She spoke to me afterwards, and literally hit me for keeping the truth about her from you. She was quite adamant that I tell you everything there is to me." He paused, and I then felt his hand caress my bare shoulder.
"And I do trust you, Rose." He continued, carefully stepping closer, "I trust you more than myself, even. I never told you because I thought my past would not matter to you."
"Not matter to me?" I repeated in a chopped voice, "Of course it matters to me. You were hurt so bad, and you...you"
"I meant about Ororo." He cut across gently, "My history with Ororo is just that: history. We may have had something in the past, but we found that we could not be together. Then I saw you, in the park that night. You are so...different, from Ororo, in every way. You were never afraid to be yourself; if something frightened you, you always turned to help. And you were never one to rush head long into a battle—you always thought before you acted."
Now T'Challa was standing so close to me, I could feel his chest rising and falling with every breath. Ever slowly, he moved his arms around my waist, and turned my body around so that we now stood face to face, even though I kept mine lowered.
I felt his fingers curl underneath my chin and tenderly lift my head. Against my will, my eyes stayed open to met his; now a deep warm golden colour, filled with an emotion I couldn't place. He said nothing more, just moving his hand from under my chin to my cheek, his thumb brushing away the tears.
"Rose." He finally spoke, then paused to gather his words, "Being here, with N'Jadaka nearby...it scares me. I can still remember his words, and the hurt he wrought. But having you here, and being yourself? I will never feel the same fear ever again, because I know that your strength and compassion will never let me fall."
My breathing hitched a little, but T'Challa used his other hand to curl around my waist and pull me closer to him, my arms reaching up to weakly grasp his shoulders.
"Rose." He sighed softly, his face coming so much more closer to mine, "My dear, beautiful, loving Rose." My eyes finally fluttered closed as his lips began to part, and s—
"BRIAR! T'CHALLA!" We pulled apart in shock as Chanté raced towards us, Hawkeye close at her heels. The pair of them looked puffed out, but scared as well: like they have seen the Devil or something equally terrifying.
"What is it?" T'Challa immediately asked them both, his kingly authority coming out, "What has happened?"
"It's...the chi-children." Hawkeye huffed out, leaning on his knees slightly to catch his breath. My heart froze before beating powerfully. Instinctively, I grabbed the hand T'Challa kept at my waist, and felt him pull me against him for comfort.
"Wh-what happened?" I weakly asked, turning to either Hawkeye or Chanté for answers. There was a feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach, slowly spreading outward as I imagined the worst that could happen.
"The doctors were examining them." Chanté explained as she finally caught her breath, "and then something happened. Now, all the children have entered a deep coma, and dying!"
The worst I was imagining? This was not it.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Ugh. The feels: I'm never one for feels, but I sure dang 'feels' them now. Now I'm just emotionally drained, and I have two more to go. Geez, I'm never gonna catch a break am I?
Speaking of which, I have a tiny inkling that some of you will be checking that I've gotten my information right. So let me point some things out: Yes, I know that Rose's bodyguard is meant to be older; No, Ororo was not 15 when she first met T'Challa; and yes, I realize that the village they're discussing wouldn't send their poor kids to their enemies. And yes, I do realize I sound a bit cranky now, it's just this chapter is so emotionally draining, especially the ending.
Right! That's it for now: I have much work to do, and I'll try to get the next chapter out by either this coming weekend or the one after it. If not, feel free to send a message to see if I'm still alive. Bye for now, because Den is outta here!