Just Think of Them as Little Blessings

by La'Ruelia

Jansen counts his children's milestones, proof that maybe he was sort of okay at this fatherhood thing. With maybe a little help from his dear friends.

The teacup could not clatter harder onto the saucer Jansen held in his sudden grip. The sound rang in the empty space between husband and wife; Ming sitting across from him, eyebrow raised, taking a careful sip out of her own cup.

"Come again?" he gasped, trying and failing to recover any semblance of self-control. He had to hold himself from wiping away the spilled tea with the cuffs of his shirtsleeve. Old habits, he supposed.

"I think you heard me."

Jansen sputtered, mouth dropping open and shutting two times. "I think you heard me, you say, drinking your tea like—like you didn't just drop a metaphorical bomb!"

"Is it truly surprising this has happened?"

Jansen didn't fluster easy, Ming neither, but his eyes widened at her implication. A blush seizing his face and was that a giggle he just heard coming from behind them? Ming, with all the gracefulness of the thousand years she had ruled this place, gently nodded toward her young maiden in waiting without cracking a smile. Jansen heard the soft rustle of the curtsy and held his head in his hands as the door clicked softly behind him.

"Are you upset?" There was so much concern laced in her tone, Jansen snapped his head up to look at her.

"Upset?" Am I? he thought with a frown. Jansen's head drooped and he rubbed his neck at the swiftness he lifted his head. The creak of his spine told him he was going to feel that in the morning. "No. No, I'm really not, I mean."

He looked at his wife again, from the tips of her toes to the top of the neatly placed bun at the crown of her hair and knew he could never be upset with her. Not in a thousand years. "I'm just…it's just…"

"It was bound to happen."

Ming was hiding a laugh behind one delicate finger to her lips, and Jansen leaned back into his chair with a sigh. "We've only been married, what, six…seven months," he said to the ceiling.

"Mmm," Ming agreed taking another sip of tea.

Jansen tilted his head her way. "That's it?" Jansen could feel the exasperation in his voice, and told himself to cool it. "That's all you have to say?"

"What else would you like me to say, Jansen, love?" Ming's laughter rang out into the air like a tinkle of a bell. Jansen could literally sit for hours and listen to the sound in better circumstances. If he hadn't felt like he was going to melt into the floor and never recover from this situation they have landed themselves in. He gasped when she added, "that you've come too often into our bed and—"

"Why would you phrase it like that!" he half whispered, and half shrieked, if it were possible. His face reddening for only his wife, who was still finding this situation too amusing for his liking.

"Perhaps you have rubbed off on me?" she suggested instead.

Jansen groaned. If he heard his beautiful, once naïve wife, make another innuendo, he didn't think his heart would survive.

"Jansen." He could not quite meet her face. "Jansen?" He shut his own eyes tightly, breath escaping him in a rush. He felt Ming's hand come up to his shoulder, gently shaking him. She lifted it and he missed the connection immediately, but still couldn't find it in him to look up at her face. "My love, are you alright?"

"Never better." He sounded winded and strained. He heard Ming shift before he felt her gentle touch on his knee. He rested his hand on top of hers, but it took a few deep breaths to finally let his shoulders droop. When he finally opened his eyes, he could see her worry. It twisted his gut knowing he did that to her. "I never thought this would happen. I mean, I know it could happen, that it was bound to, but…really. Truly. I grew up on the streets, I hung out with some super shady people in Uhra. Suddenly, I meet Kaim. Barely a year goes by, I'm a king, and now. Now, I'm expected to be…"

"A father?" Ming suggested. Jansen swallowed, not trusting his voice. He looked away suddenly ashamed. Why couldn't he react normally? Any other man would be elated to hear their wife was expecting a child. "It has been quite the year," she concluded softly.

She let the sentence linger, just keeping her hand on his knee for a time. Jansen rubbed his face. He could feel himself winding up to escape, and for reasons he really could not explain. The anxiety of doom, of the unknown, sinking into his skin and veins like venom. He finally asked, "how…how far along...?"

"Healers and a midwife have a guesstimate of around three months," she replied.

"So, what, I've got about six months to get ready?" Jansen looked up at Ming and she gave him a very soft smile. She still looked worried, and he wanted to smooth away her fear. He wasn't going to slip away from this, no matter how much of him wanted to run far away. "I got this! I'll get there. I promise. I'm not upset, I'm not. I'm not."

Jansen wasn't sure if he was trying to reassure his wife or himself, and he was too nervous to really think more on it. He instead gripped her hand harder hoping that expressed what words could not.

Ming, like the patient saint she was, just patted his knee. "I know," she said with a wider smile.

. . .

Ming was glowing. Anything she wore now supported the small, but very much noticeable, baby bump, and everyone seemed to have a compliment to throw her way. She took it with a kind smile, gently laying her hand here or there. Miraculously, the nausea only lasted a week or two and she was back on her feet doing her duty for the people of Numara. In public, Jansen noticed, the people were worse. The gasping, the giggling, the excitement, the questions of the future.

This was an event! The Immortal Queen of Numara was expecting! Rejoice!

Jansen could not escape it.

He was having trouble with almost everything that had to do with this pregnancy. When people talked to him about it, he became nervously rigid. He would fluster and lose his witty tongue. For now, maids and servants and other important people chalked it up to a new-to-be father's silliness, but he knew it was deeper than that. Any mention of Ming or the child growing within her made him recoil. Dark thoughts invaded his mind, telling him that he wasn't going to be good at this. He wasn't going to be a good father. Look at your past, Jansen. No father to guide you. You grew up on the streets. You were a drunk, a lech.

Your children will be as well.

It left him cold and hot at the same time. He started speaking less and he threw himself into his work quietly without complaint.

Unfortunately, Ming noticed it too.

Jansen was almost too afraid to touch her, like his hands were going to do something wrong or hurt her or something else too dumb to voice aloud. He found himself pulling away when she reached out, and when he started noticing her tight-lip frustration, he knew he needed help.

So, with a cloak to disguise himself, he went seeking out Kaim.

And when Kaim answered his door, Jansen thought that this too was a dumb thought. "I should go," he said.

Kaim's brow creased. "You just got here."

"It's dumb, don't mind me." Jansen waved, backing up a step. He turned and then he was stopped by Kaim's calloused hand to his shoulder.

"Come in. I've just made some tea."

Jansen was guided into the home of Kaim and Sarah, noting the absence of the latter and the giggle of his arch-nemesis. "Brat," he greeted Cooke.

"Old man," she said just as scathingly. She then added, with a curious stare and point to his shoulders, "you're too hunched up."

"I'm leaving. No king deserves this treatment!" He dramatically went to turn away, hoping Kaim's arm didn't wrangle him back.

Or hand, he should have guessed. It was back on his shoulder, practically shoving him into the chair opposite the door. Jansen could feel his shoulders hunch up, to use Cooke's vocabulary. "Why are you here?" she asked as if it were an accusation.

"Can't I visit friends?" he sniffed. Cooke pulled her eyebrow up, and Jansen could feel himself wither just slightly. As much as he cared for the girl, he did not care for her kicks when he teased her too much. He moved his shins out of her way, just in case she was feeling feisty, sighing. "Fine. I need some fatherly advice from your withered, old grandad."

Kaim lifted a brow, and Jansen shuddered at how alike grandfather and granddaughter were. Cooke stuck her tongue out at him and Jansen mimicked her. He could hear Kaim's disappointed sigh at the behavior, and almost smiled for it.

You never grow up. How can you raise a child? Jansen grimaced, luckily unnoticed by his company.

The young girl rolled her eyes. "Ugh, boring. Kaim, can I go to the beach?"

"Take your staff with you in case you bump into anything."

"Gotcha! Thanks!" Cooke was in her room then out of the house in a flurry of noise, leaving the living room silent.

"Nice drapes," Jansen said.

"You've been here before," came Kaim's gruff reply. Jansen laughed. With a roll of his eyes, Kaim went into his kitchen, returning with a tray of tea.

Kaim sat the tray down on the table in front of them, poured their tea into the mugs, and passed one to Jansen. "Thanks," he said quietly, as if suddenly shy to be left alone with the immortal and scooped four sugar cubes into the hot liquid. He sat back and stirred, watching Kaim add one cube to his own.

Of course, he wouldn't want his tea sweet, he thought to himself.

Kaim narrowed his eyes at him, as if he heard Jansen's comment, and sat back in his own seat. Jansen could feel himself start to sweat. The stare Kaim was giving him was what he would call normal, but not a normal he had seen in more than a year. Like it was back in the days where they were freshly paired up with Seth by Gongora, Kaim an amnesiac with a mission and Jansen a mage who just got the payday of a lifetime. He swallowed his burning tea with a gulp. Those were not the good old days, and he was not here for the reminder.

The electrifying silence came to an end when Jansen set his mug down and stood on his feet. Kaim shook his head at him. "Sit."

"I'm here for advice, not for your glares!" Jansen crossed his arms. "You, Mr. Judgy-Judgy over there! Stop!"

"I'm observing."

"You make a guy nervous is what you're doing!" Jansen sat, despite the little voice inside of his head urging him to go. Instead, he bounced his leg, hoping to satisfy that aching, leave now, feeling.

"You're shaking my house."

"I shouldn't have come."

"Why did you?" Kaim set his tea on the table, leaning forward. His expression slightly less hostile, allowing Jansen to ease his shoulders down just the smallest degree. "You said fatherly advice?"

"Yes."

Kaim blinked a few times, then suddenly sat back. He crossed his leg, ankle over knee, and lay his hands in his lap. He lifted his brow, expression softening, "go ahead. Ask away."

Jansen let his shoulders drop even lower. At least the immortal was done glaring. "You've relaxed," he noted.

"I was just wondering if you were serious or not," Kaim said simply. He shrugged a shoulder and Jansen sighed. "What's wrong?"

"It's just…" Jansen didn't know what to say. How could he explain his anxiety? "You ever feel trapped and alone?"

"Plenty of times." Silence. Kaim didn't elaborate.

"Okay, well." Jansen lifted his hands in exasperation. "Example, please?"

"I've been trapped in jail cells for years at a time. I've been buried alive. I was once left stranded on an island for ten months. After a tiring war, I broke my leg falling down a pit and died waiting for help—"

"I get it. Bad question. Or, well, bad wording." Jansen winced, then scrubbed a hand over his face. "I mean in fatherhood."

"Oh," Kaim uncrossed his leg and leaned over to pick up his mug. He lifted it to his lips, said, "no," and stared again.

"You know what? You're the worst."

"Is this the advice part?" Kaim said, ignoring the comment. "Don't feel trapped."

"Yeah, great! All's solved!" Jansen had half the mind to leave and never return to this cursed house. He scooted up in his seat, as if getting ready to do just that, but Kaim held up his hand. There was a smile tugging on his lips and it was Jansen's turn to glare at his companion.

"Sorry. Continue."

"There's literally nothing else to say." Jansen began tapping the heal of his foot. Kaim just blew on his tea and took a small sip. "There nothing. Zilch. Nada. I mean can you imagine me? A dad?" Jansen clicked his tongue, watching as Kaim just watched him prattle on. "I'm going to be terrible. It's like everyone is excited but me. I keep having these negative thoughts that I can't let go of. I can't even touch Ming right now. I'm going to mess up. I'm going to hurt them—"

"What do you mean you can't touch Ming?"

Jansen chewed on his tongue a moment. How was it that Kaim could just get him to blab on without even saying or doing anything? Jansen laid it all out without even knowing it. "I don't know."

"Like physically?" Kaim frowned. "Intimate—"

"Don't you dare finish that thought." Jansen felt himself turn red, pinching the bridge of his nose. How did the tides reverse not only on his wife, but now the stoic mercenary as well? Did everyone need to mettle in his own affairs? "Yes, and kinda no to those."

"Why?" When Jansen stared back at him, his own leveling glare, Kaim added, "describe it to me."

"I can't touch her. I can't hold her hand. I get nervous when she's close to me."

"What are you feeling?" Kaim crossed his leg again.

"Anxiety." Jansen crossed his arms over his stomach. He didn't like admitting this. "Like everything I'm doing is wrong. I tell myself that I'm not going to be able to do this whole parenting thing, and then my heart starts racing and I turn away."

"Has Ming noticed?"

Jansen nodded, grimacing. It had gotten to the point where the worry was coming back to her eyes. He would do anything to get her to stop looking that way, which is why he supposed he thought Kaim could fix this problem. Can he fix it? he found himself wondering. Kaim was old. Older and wiser and more experienced in just about everything in life itself. So, it seemed like the right idea, but as Jansen stared at Kaim's blank expression, he started to second guess his whole thought process.

Kaim sighed, expression finally changing into what Jansen would almost think was pity. Nothing seemed pitiful in this conversation, but Jansen was going to let it slide. "It's not abnormal for partners to get nervous about pregnancy."

"Did you?" Stupid question. He was probably born ready. Or whatever it was when he started existing, Jansen berated himself with a frown.

Kaim nodded. Jansen sat up a little straighter. "Every time."

"Every time?" Jansen deflated. He then sat right up again. "Every time?" he repeated. "Just how many times?"

"Children birthed? Two hundred and seven."

"Two…hundred…and seven." Jansen's eyebrows crept higher and higher. Kaim nodded, the smallest smile upturned his lips. "That was only birthed. I mean. That's a lot."

"It is."

"And you remember?"

"Every one of them." Here his expression darkened.

Jansen felt for the guy. To live a thousand years and live through every death of a loved one. He felt his heart pound painfully in his chest as he thought of Lirum and the father and daughter's short-lived reunion. Jansen remembered that dreadful afternoon and seeing the man he barely thought had any emotions at all break down into uncontrollable sobs. It was enough to suck all the moisture in his body up and redirect it to his eyes. Jansen swallowed, throat suddenly dry. "I'm…I'm sorry."

Kaim just shook his head as if he were physically clearing his thoughts away. "It's life."

Jansen grabbed his mug and took a loud sip of his cooling tea. Anything to fill the silence and sudden melancholy of the room. However sad the situation was, it was good to know that his friend had survived the worst things imaginable in fatherhood. Maybe he could too.

Kaim sighed. "It's not abnormal to think you'll hurt Ming, or the baby," he said, readdressing the conversation.

"How do I stop thinking that? What did you do?"

"I made sure to talk about what was bothering me. As you can imagine that was hard for me to do, most of the time."

"Yes," Jansen said, quirking a smile. Kaim returned it, accepting his teasing. "It's not exactly something I want to bring up either, ya know."

"Do it anyway." Kaim took the last draught of his tea and set the mug on the tray. He offered Jansen some more, but he held up a hand. Kaim poured himself another small cup. He sat back stirring his one sugar cube in. "You need to talk to Ming about your anxiety if you're ever going to try and get over it."

"Did you ever think you were going to mess up?"

Kaim nodded. "Only the first few times. I got in a lot of practice as you can imagine. It got easier." He still stirred in his sugar slowly, thoughtfully. Jansen could tell he was stewing over his next words. "It was hard to hold my first child," he admitted with a frown. "I thought I would drop him or hurt him. I thought maybe I didn't know my own strength and I would break his arm."

"Uh."

"I never did," Kaim said as if he was trying to be reassuring. Jansen burst out a laugh, and Kaim narrowed his eyes at him again.

"So serious, yeesh!" Jansen cracked a smile. "Thanks, this is helping. A little."

"Your anxiety probably won't go away until your baby can walk. And then you'll have a whole new set of anxieties." Jansen's mouth dropped open as Kaim closed his eyes and sipped his tea.

"Aaannd now it's not!"

As Kaim opened his mouth to say something else, hopefully something to soothe the damage he just laid out, the front door burst open. Mack toppled onto the carpet, scrunching it up on the hardwood floor, Cooke pulling up behind, landing on him. Her staff skittered onto the floor beside her. "No fair! You cheated!" she called out.

"I didn't!" Mack was smiling and trying to kick his sister away from him.

"Kaim!" Cooke whined.

"Sarah!" Mack whined in just the same way.

Sarah stepped through the doorway, sighing at the tangle of children on the floor before looking up. "Oh!" she cried out. "Jansen, lovely to see you!"

"Hello, Sarah," Jansen greeted. He watched as Cooke and Mack wrestled a moment more before Kaim cleared his throat once, eyes on his grandchildren. The two siblings separated immediately, looking abashed. Jansen made a mental note to ask Kaim to teach him how to do that later.

.

Ming was in her personal study when Jansen arrived back at the palace. He hopped from one foot to another, pumping himself up—not even blushing when a passing servant giggled into her hand—and knocked softly on the door. He heard her gentle call to come in, before pushing open the door.

The queen sat at her desk, the shine of the setting sun bathing the room in orange. She was writing something down in her journal, but smiled up at him when he poked his head in. The smile was a little strained. Jansen hoped it was because today was hard and not because he had been avoiding a lot of her the past few days. "Uh, hi," he said, hand lifting to scratch at his neck. He hated this feeling of sudden nervous energy.

"Well, hello." She made to stand up, but Jansen was quicker. He lifted her hand, and with a little flourish, kissed each knuckle before turning her hand over to softly kiss her wrist. The soft laugh was exactly what he wanted to hear, and he had to admit to himself that he missed the feeling of her hand in his. He didn't let it go when he pulled over a chair to sit. "You seem…"

"Less stressed?" Jansen finished, letting their hands fall into their touching knees, fingers intertwined. "I might be a little. Less."

"Your trip helped then?"

"It did. I think." Jansen sighed. It was now or never, but before he could say anything, he felt Ming's thumb rub across his own.

"How are Kaim and Sarah? The children?"

"As rambunctious as you can imagine they are," Jansen said with a snort. "The children, I mean. Practically wrestling in their king's presence."

"Horrible manners," Ming teased with a laugh.

"They learned from the best," Jansen retorted with a smile. He could practically see Kaim's frown and hear Sarah's light sigh at the teasing. His smile faltered after a moment. Before Ming could question, he started again. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for the way I've been acting." He tightened his hold on their hands, finding it easier to concentrate on the bands on their left third fingers. Together forever. "I've been a real…ass."

Ming sighed. "I cannot say I disagree, though…I would not say you were a total one." Jansen lifted his eyes to see her small, precious smile. Less strained but still tight.

"I've been avoiding you. Or well…avoiding touching you anyway. It's harder than I thought to push all of my intrusive thoughts away," Jansen said with a sigh. "I can't describe to you how terrible it makes me feel and yet…I still try to dodge everything."

Ming placed her other hand over their intertwined fingers. Jansen was encouraged by the warmth. "I…I've been in my head a little too much. I thought I might hurt you somehow or do something stupid like light your dress on fire. I know, dumb."

"I do not think you would go as far as that," she said with a smile. "Maybe bruise my hand if you held it too tightly. Maybe bruise my lips if you kissed me too passionately, but never catch my dress on fire."

Jansen laughed at that, looking up into her eyes. She was smiling brighter now and he could tell she was relieved to finally be able to have this conversation. Her smile didn't even falter when he added, with just a little bit of melancholy, "it's just so hard for me to truly look at this and think I'm doing something good…right even. You know I didn't grow up with many positive male figures in my life…and…and I'm just afraid our child will turn out like me. Makes me want to leave." He winced and quickly added, "I'm not! I will not."

"My love, this is new. It is as exciting as much as it is terrifying for us both. What I know is that you are here with me, not running away." Ming squeezed his hand. Jansen sucked in a small breath wondering why he felt the need to cry all the sudden. "I love you so much for it, even when you do not feel like you can touch me. All I can say is that I am stronger than I look. A few accidental jabs won't send me to an early labor."

Jansen's laugh was shaky and wetter than he intended. Ming smiled and stood up. She pulled him along until they sat at her small settee in the corner of her office. Jansen looked at their hands and wondered if they were just trying to make up for lost time at how they just couldn't let go. As if Ming could guess his wandering thoughts, she looked at his face and then down to her hands. He watched as she carefully opened his palm and brought it closer to her growing belly. She looked up again, a silent request. Jansen nodded, not trusting any sound to come past the lump lodged in his throat.

Ming carefully laid his hand on her stomach. Jansen gasped at how small and warm it was. He shakily took his other hand and smoothed her dress over the bump, a tear slipping from his eye. "I'm the truest idiot, huh?"

"Not in the slightest." Ming used her own hand to wipe away the tears that fell, leaving her fingers to hold him there. Their eyes met and she continued, almost in a whisper, "you are the truest self you can be, and I love you for every bit of it you have shown me."

"Thank you." Jansen sniffed, a watery gaze lifting and smiling up at his darling wife. Ming wiped away more tears and he could feel his heart swell. "I love everything about you, too."

No, Jansen still had some hang-ups. The dark feelings had lessened but were still there. He still thought that he was going to do something dumb, but with Ming there to help him bumble along, he decided maybe he would come out just fine on the other side after all.