EVERMORE ─ marvel ⁷

II. Anticipation & Trepidation

Chapter Two
Zy'aire

"My queen, you're looking more radiant every time I set eyes on you." I admit in awe, staring at my wife from the entrance of our bedroom.

She rolls her eyes, placing a hand on her pregnant belly. "I don't feel very radiant," She pushes herself up and leans against the headboard, wincing as she does so. "What was the meeting about?"

I quickly catch her up, and while I do so, I sit at the end of our bed and rub her feet, casting occasional glances at the fishbowl sitting on her nightstand. When I'm done talking, she lets out a long sigh, I'm not sure if it's from the information I've just given her or the foot rub. Maybe both.

"What will you be doing in the mean time?" She asks.

"I've already spoken with Uncle Khari. Once everyone leaves in the morning, we'll assemble the Wakandan forces for battle. Hopefully it will be for nothing."

"I wish there was something I can do." Livy grumbles with a pout. I know how hard this whole process has been for her. Between taking the daily dose of serum that robs her of her powers, being forced into bed rest, and of course carrying twins, she's had a rough couple months. I wish more than anything that I could take away her suffering. Hopefully it will only last a few more days, but of course, then a whole new challenge arises: parenthood.

I remember when Livy told me she was pregnant. It was nearly six months ago, she had dinner prepared for us in this very room, and I burst into tears when she showed me the result of a test she had done at the hospital. It was the greatest happiness I had ever felt, but it was quickly dampened by crippling fear. Fear that I would not be up to the task, that my child would come to resent me, that my child would develop the same insecurities that I did. This fear only worsened when we discovered Livy was pregnant with not one, but two children. Double the chance of failure.

"Zy?" Livy sounds worried. I realize I've just zoned out. I force a smile, shaking my head.

"Sorry, my darling," I continue to rub at her feet. "I know how badly you want to help, I wish there was something I could do to speed this process along, or make it easier for you."

Livy falls silent, long enough that I start to feel alarmed. I glance up at her and find her studying me, her face tight with concentration. After another moment she pats the other side of the bed. I crawl across the blankets and plop myself down beside her, watching her turn herself around enough to face me.

"I know what's going on, what has been going on. You're worried about being a father, you're worried you won't be enough. You always worry you won't be enough."

I have always loved her ability to see right through me, to know my thoughts and feelings without having to hear about them from my lips. I've heard many married couples say they can read each other like that, but it's different with us. She and I have known each other our whole lives, have grown up together, lived our lives as partners long before we became husband and wife.

I had sworn I would accept myself as I am, and believe that I am enough after Sam made me see that it was I who was putting such high expectations on myself, not the world. Having that knowledge only made me feel worthy for a short time. If anything, realizing that I was the one who thought less of myself, not others, made me feel even less worthy of being king, of being my father's successor. But then Baba died, and I promised myself that I would stop comparing myself to him, that I would finally view myself as a worthy king and man. I've kept that promise, for the most part, but years of dealing with those insecurities has made me fear that my children will be plagued with them too. I tell Livy as much.