There were few people T’Challa trusted to the extent he trusted Ororo, and for good reason. If anyone on Earth had earned his faith, it was her. She had every right to hate him, had every right to view him in a negative light. He’d abandoned her once, left her alone without so much as a reason to his departure. He had still not explained it, had still never told her why that day in the market changed him so. Anyone else would have taken the excuse to never speak to him again, but Ororo was not anyone else. She never hesitated to come when he needed her, never even attempted to politely point him towards another instructor at Xavier’s that could help him train the young mutants in his country. It made sense that his trust in her would translate to battle as well, made sense that their connection would be just as strong when fighting demons as it was when having a simple conversation.
They were not the same children they had been before. It was a fact T’Challa was well aware of, one he knew Ororo recognized as well. The first time they met, the first time they were together, they were so young, so free of responsibilities. T’Challa had been a prince, but his leadership was a distant concern. His uncle had still been on the throne, had promised to stay there until T’Challa chose to take over. Ororo had not yet had the X-Men or Xavier’s to worry herself with. Neither of them would trade their responsibilities for the world, and T’Challa knew it – she loved the X-Men as much as he loved Wakanda – but they did complicate things. They couldn’t be as reckless and carefree as they once had. There was some disappointment in that. “I will say it as many times as you need me too,” he murmured softly. “I would tell you how I felt about you daily if I could only find the words.” He took her hand, gently running his thumb over hers before allowing it to drop. He was not a man who hid the way he felt, and he never had been. It was not in his nature. “I would like that,” he responded, nodding his head. Truthfully, there was little that could dampen his mood when Ororo was present. “They do not seem to enjoy it, though they don’t have much time for regrets.” He knew that violence was not something she regularly took part in, and he attempted to refrain from it himself when she was around for her comfort if nothing else. The demons, though, were different. T’Challa was something of a religious man, but he saw no souls in the creatures’ eyes. He felt no remorse for killing them. “This king will do everything in his power to try,” he told her with a smile. At her question, he nodded. “I would be very appreciative.”
There were moments when Ororo was hurt by T’Challa’s actions despite it having been years ago. That would change if T’Challa ever explained what had fuelled his sudden abandonment, though she highly doubted T’Challa would ever be inclined to reveal that particular secret. He trusted her completely, Ororo had never doubted it. It had been proven repeatedly with each time T’Challa contacted her, asking Ororo to aid the mutants in Wakanda, and had been proven when he invited her to his chambers later in the night and they shared for hours. Their relationship was not solely physical, although at times, Ororo wished otherwise. If their connection was solely in attraction and not in the heart and the mind, T’Challa would be a much easier man to forget. As it was, T’Challa never completely vacated her mind, and Ororo was slowly coming to terms was that. Trapped in New York City on an unknown planet alongside the king, Ororo was being forced to, and rather than view it as a negative, as a hindrance to her future with a different potential suitor, Ororo had every intention to spend every possible moment with T’Challa. Their fortune was now entwined.
Rather than vocalizing her thoughts, Ororo kept her feelings guarded, a stark difference from T’Challa who did not bother to hide his feelings for her. It felt good, Ororo had to admit, to have T’Challa being so up front, but Ororo was not quite ready for that. She had come to terms with the world thrusting them towards each other, was even enthusiastic about it, but Ororo needed time in order to admit that she cared for T’Challa deeply. Luckily, he in no way pushed her towards confession despite their limited time. They were both wise, both aware that their responsibilities and commitments complicated their possible future together. It was not impossible for them to be together, but it would be difficult. “I’m listening,” Ororo replied with a smile. “I don’t need daily, I just need every once in a while,” she replied, catching his hand in hers. When he dropped it, Ororo reached back for T’Challa hand and grasped it in her own. “Then let me start now,” she said, squeezing his hand as she spoke. “You’re more handsome than I remember from when I saw you last.” Truthfully, Ororo felt that way every time she saw T’Challa. Her memory could never do him justice, although she wondered whether that was her bias speaking. “No, I suppose they don’t. Do you ever wonder whether killing them is the right decision? Technically speaking, we invaded their home.” The demons were violent creatures, but they were also native to whatever planet they were forced to invade. Causing their extinction was an imbalance to the natural order of this world, and it was one that Ororo was sensitive to. “I look forward to your efforts,” she replied, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. Ororo wrapped her arms around T’Challa tightly, though truthfully, it was unnecessary. She used the wind to fly, it could easily move them both without touching. “Are you comfortable?” She asked quietly, knowing that it would most likely be cold for T’Challa as they travelled towards his apartment.