I Choose You

Sixty

Mare

Maven helps my tie up the back of my dress. It's a soft red that fades to gold. Spaghetti straps, and my flats with some simple jewelry, as well as a belt that goes over my bump. Maven says it adds to the style. He also helped me do my hair. Being pregnant makes doing everything 10 times harder.

"Thank you love," I say. He takes my shoulders and kisses my cheek from behind.

"Of course, Mare Bear,"

I turn around and brush off his black tux. "Handsome as always."

He chuckles, then kisses my forehead. "Beautiful as ever."

I would pull him in a tight embrace, but I haven't been able to in a while. Thanks to being pregnant.

"Do we have to do the broadcast?"

"Yes, we have to,"

I groan. "Me no wanna."

"I don't either, but we must,"

"But Mavey,"

"But Mare Bear,"

I groan and cross my arms. "You owe me big time."

He beams. "I'll get you ice cream when we are finished."

I smile back. He takes my hand and we leave quickly. I really didn't want to do this broadcast. I don't do much, just stand there and when it gets to pregnancy progression I say my piece. Maven does all the heavy work, which I appreciate.

Once we reach the balcony door, I tug on Mavens arm. A silent plea. He looks back at me. "Hmm?"

All I give him is a look. He does a solemn smile before kissing my forehead. "You'll do great."

"I don't even know what I'm supposed to say. 'Babies are fine, I'm bigger than last month'. That sounds so... bad," I jolt my head back.

"Maybe be a little more detailed than that,"

"Oh sure, 'they were kicking me last night. The future heirs of Norta are quite feisty. Look out for what's ahead,'. Maven, I'm not a host, I'm..."

"You are my wife, mother of my children, Queen Mare Calore of Norta," He interrupts.

"That's my title, not who I am,"

"You'll do amazing, Bear," He kisses my forehead again. "I'll be with you the whole time."

That's reassuring. We always hold hands under the rail. No one seems to notice. I look up at him with my eyes. "I just hate this."

"I do too, believe me. I always have," He caresses my shoulder. "It'll go by so quick, and ice cream afterwords."

Mavens about to take us outside, but someone comes by. "Your highnesses." It's Volo. Asshole.

"Hello," Maven says. "What is it, can it wait?"

"It's quick," He's holding two drinks. "I brought accommodations for the both of you."

Maven takes his, and Volo is giving me a look, a sneer but masked by friendliness look. I hesitantly take it. "Now, I'll enjoy watching the podcast."

I watch him walk away. "That was..."

"Weird," Maven finishes.

"I don't know if I should drink this, it's most likely poisoned."

He grabs it and takes a swig. "Maven no!"

There's a hard moment of silence. A very long moment.

"Seems good to me,"

"Maven Merandus, don't scare me like that," I punch his arm.

"It's good, I'm fine," He chuckles and hands me the glass. I take it back.

"Better not do that again." I smile quickly, then he takes my hand and opens the door. The crowd below roars and claps. Maven closes the door and acts proud, waves. I wave too, copying Mavens movements. It seems as if the clapping doesn't stop.

Maven raises both of his hands, to which the applause ceases. "Thank you, thank you."

Mavens good at acting, unless he likes the attention.

Maven is talking, but I'm not listening.  I look at the glass and take a sip.  It tastes like a Shirley Temple.  Sweet cherry. 

I hold onto Mavens hand, I glance down to it with my eyes, smiling to myself.  Maven let's go and touches my bump softly, before going back to holding my hand.  Not taking his eyes off the crowd or speaking to them. 

I feel a slight squeeze in my bump, and I look down.  What was that? I'm 7 and a half months along, could it be a kick?  No, kicks are more exact, while this was everywhere.  It happens again, more intense. 

I squeeze Mavens hand, he doesn't react, to in depth, talking of politics.  I ignore it, but then it happens again, a third time, harder, more intense.  My breathing hitches.  My eyes dart around as I think of a solution, or a cause. 

It's too early, too early for the babies, too early for any of it.  Not now, not here, not my girls.  It's not happening now, it's just- again, even harder, more tight, more urgent.  I squeeze his hand again, pulling.  Still nothing, still dead fox used on the crowd. 

There it is again, hard.  I gasp slightly. 

And again, again.

Cracking sounds shattering through the air, I drop my glass on the floor.