Mistress of the Elements: Storm/Ororo fanfic

Mother

"There is nothing for you there, Ororo." Jongikhaya sounded in their dream world but The Goddess ignored him.
The winds steadied her as she came closer to the palace complex. Her eyes were moist (although she chose not to acknowledge it) and her heart beat wildly in her chest.
"How many times have your borne your all to the King of Wakanda only to be met with nothing in return?" Jongikhaya was careful with these words. He let them ring in her ears over the whispers of the breeze. He knew that T'Challah would always be a difficult conversation. She loved him- more than anyone she had ever known- but her feelings were beginning to fade. Every time they coupled and then broke apart- a little less of her heart would break at the sight of him. Jongikhaya would not compete with T'Challah but he could not say nothing when he was sure Ororo would be hurt.
"Don't go." The warrior choked out but could not look at her as he did so. Among the Yaxola he was powerful, feared and admired. Although raised to be humble, he knew of passion and desire- was invited through every door he ever knocked on... But their way of life also meant Jongikhaya was ignorant to love and the connection he now felt with a woman who refused to believe. He never needed to ask for something like this. He did not know how- Asking the goddess, his only fated in this lifetime- not to visit her lover was pure agony.
The warrior didn't know what to do with himself as his heart splintered.
The goddess slowed her pace and hovered as she placed a hand on her heart. She was so overwhelmed and confused- aching with need and heartbreak. Were these feelings her own?
These new powers worried her- and perhaps frightened her as well. Was that the reason she was going to T'Challah?
"Am I going because I'm scared? Do I need him to chase my fears?.... do I need him... in that way ...anymore?"
Jongikhaya whispered through the mist- You know the answer to your questions... he was already gone..."
The winds swallowed what was left of her tears, inviting her to encircle herself with their protective powers but she couldn't bring herself to do it. The warriors words should have filler her with anger, but they were met with a silence.

If she admitted she no longer needed T'Challah, would everything between them be lost to the follies of another time?

Jongikhaya came close to her but she held out a hand to keep him at bay.
"No, warrior... Go now... I will come to you when I am ready."
The warrior nodded, and saluted Ororo in the way of the Yaxola before fading. He too, preferred to be alone with his pain.

Storm, now grounded, determined that she would walk back to Okoye's. She wanted to feel the earth under her feet and connect to the energy of the people around her. She didn't need to think about Yaxola or ki or her crumbling heart anymore.

As she walked through one of the older shopping arcades she noticed a woman looking at her. The woman wore a hooded robe that made it difficult to see her face, but her attention was surely pointed towards Ororo.
The goddess continued to walk as she kept a sharp eye out for her new friend. She began to turn down alleyways and side streets to be sure that she was not imagining things.
The figure continued to follow.
As she neared the edge of the arcade she lost her. Ororo began to look around, eyes weary but poised for danger.
"Would you like to take a closer look?" The vendor invited and gestured toward bouquets of crimson.
"No thank you."
"How about your mother?"
Ororo followed the vendor's eyes to see her hooded assailant standing by.
"... not today, thank you."
Ororo turned to walk away but a chocolate hand pulled her in another direction.
Scanning for danger but sensing no real emotion outside of urgency and anxiety, the goddess allowed herself to be led through the stalls and into a small series of alleys.
The woman stopped in a small courtyard veiled by large trees with flowing vines descending from their branches.
The older woman sat and motioned for the Goddess to follow.
She felt the psychic link grab hold of her before she heard the words-
Your fated is in grave danger, Goddess. You must rescue him before it is too late.
Ororo tried to communicate her thoughts but the woman kept repeating.
Your fated is in grave danger, Goddess. You must re-
"I am aware that he is imprisoned but how can I trust your word that he is in danger? You are one of them and no Yaxola is forthcoming."
The woman's imploring eyes searched the ocean of Ororo's thoughts.
"No," The goddess put her hand on the woman's, but as she did so was greeted by blinding visions.

A room of young women strapped to hospital beds with bulging bellies. The birth of a white haired boy who shook the very room with his cry. A mother screaming as her newborn is ripped from her arms. She cannot form words because they have cut out her tongue- so she wails in unformed vowels that explode from her lips until someone comes and places a hand over her heart to relieve her of consciousness. The Yaxola elders held up the baby, as they laughed and cooed- congratulating one another and claiming the child as their own.

Tears were streaming down the woman's face as she gazed through the branches of the sleeping trees. She gently squeezed Ororo's hand.
"... what?... what did I just witness?"
The birth of my son, Ngtharabu...
"Ngtharabu? How is that possible?"
Please Goddess, there is no time. It must be you- only you can reach him now with the truth... he obeys because he still thinks he is theirs. They convinced my child that he is one of them. She spit the last par out like the skin of a tamarind.
"But he isn't is he?" The Sapphires in front of her sparkled with moisture. ".... No..." realization weighed on her in an instant. ... he is something else- someONE else."
The woman nodded and continued to hold her hand as a tear slipped down.
We are the First People- born from the gods of the Sahara, the cliffs of Sankofa, and the wombs of the rivers that connect us all. The Yaxola were deeply devout and closed in on themselves under the channel as the other tribes migrated throughout the world. My people settled in Cameroon- cultivating our psychic abilities to heal.
Yaxola numbers were limited, however, and when birth rates were low, they began kidnapping First People of the other tribes. Stealing white haired women in the dead of night to carry child after child until ... she tore her eyes away in emotion... until they were no longer useful....
Ngtharabu was my only birth. I was barely able to escape and if not for my powers, I would have been executed for my infertility... I reunited with my people to expose the Yaxola and to try to rescue my son but they were too strong. Almost all of the gifts within our people have been lost to time and age. All we have are visions now. Glimpses of the past, present or future.... that's how i found you... and it's how I know you must save him... he is Ngtharabu of the First People reborn- and you, the Goddess fated for him.
Please- I beg you- Do not let them use him up.

Ororo's heart began to ache. All of those tiny and tender moments- memories with his mother, elders, other children, training- all of those memories she also now held for the warrior known as Jongikhaya- were all a lie.
He was in danger. That much was true. If the Yaxola thought he had outlived his usefulness as their guard dog, they would not hesitate to kill him- and use every cruelty in doing so. If she and Jongikhaya were really Ngtharabu and her fated god reborn, the Yaxola would never let him go.
Ororo had to contact Jongikhaya quickly or it might be too late.
"I-" Ororo held her mouth open for a moment before closing. Was she not the one who just sent him away? Was she not the one who was just longing for the King of Wakanda's embrace? And now, at the the mere thought of Jongikhaya harmed, her breath constricted. The air around her conveyed her true feelings- fear, uncertainty, affection. The winds never lied.
She had feelings for the warrior- fated or none- their shared energy sparked her desire as well as something she hadn't felt in a long time. An unfamiliar spirit was awakening within her- strengthening her powers and filling her with need when in his presence.
Without noticing, she had begun to rub her legs together.
She looked back at the woman who was now smiling knowingly.
Fate calls to us all... for you two, it will be stronger. And the desire to bare fruit will be beyond anything you've ever felt... but be careful. Ngtharabu is merely mortal- it will limit your ability to conceal yourselves from the Yaxola- and if they find out about you, they will come for you, him, and all of your seed.
Ororo looked at her belly.
"How will I-" she stopped short.
Her visitor was gone, and only the swaying vines languidly waved back at her.