Seidrik
The font had been the birthing place for a dozen generations of Liaberian royalty. And it would be no different that evening. No matter where the sun shone on her people, the birthing omega belonged to the moon.
As he lay on the platform in the chamber normally reserved for bottling vitalis, propped up with all manner of pillows, he breathed through contractions and enjoyed his brother’s company.
Jori flitted about sanitizing things, cleaning and repeatedlyviolatingSeidrik, trying to see if his canal had opened sufficiently. They’d been waiting for water to break for some time, but things just hadn’t gone that route until Jori went in to check and received an ample wash of fluids as his reward. “I’d say that’s what we were waiting for.”
“Finally. I didn’t take this long.” Virion sat by, studying the font and the lettering on the walls.
“Why don’t you just bless the font while you’re here instead of showing off. We get it, you’re the best at everything,” Seidrik said, his voice rough in his throat.
“Never thought I’d be able to bless the fonts, you know?” Virion laughed. “But I’m not the best at everything. You’re the best at hiding things.”
“Apparently not! Saria knew. Pallosar knew… Stamel.” Seidrik breathed his way through a contraction.
“Once again, I’m left out of the party.” Virion sighed and quietly spoke the spell, holding his hand over the water. From what Seidrik recalled, he didn’t need to speak it, but doing so added a focal element to his work.
As he finished his blessing and the font glowed, Stamel made his way down the stairs, his face pale and posture shaken. Seidrik had never seen that side of him. He was usually so cocky and dominant that the expression and stooped stance made Seidrik sad.
“Is everything going well so far?” Stamel stared at Seidrik, but the question was meant for Jori. He sent fire to flow over his fingers to sanitize them with a word of a spell.
“Wonderful so far. I really wish he’d get into a more conducive position, but he says he’s fine on his back like that.” Jori made a derisive snort.
“I keep telling you that my legs are too weak to stand on. Every time I get a contraction, they buckle.” Seidrik sighed heavily and groaned as Virion stuffed another pillow behind his head, propping his forebody up.
“Shouldn’t be the case,” Jori said, resuming his examinations. He squeezed along Seidrik’s legs and up to his hips.
“Sending pins and needles up my back.” Seidrik squirmed uncomfortably and cringed when his belly knotted up.
“Unusual, but not unheard of.” Jori pressed his hands along Seidrik’s belly and frowned. “And what did the other healer say?”
“Haven’t seen her in a few months. The healer here has no idea how pregnant omegas work. The best we had available was an omega night nurse who said I was carrying a large child and should keep on my feet to speed things along.” Seidrik panted through the pressure as his belly twisted.
“Should have asked Croatens to send an omega healer a while ago.” Jori snorted and moved Seidrik, helping him to position on his side a little. “Does this bring sensation back?”
Seidrik breathed through a contraction and waited a moment, taking a deep breath as the pins and needles intensified then ebbed, feeling returning.
“Yes. Brilliantly so.” Seidrik sighed in relief. “Is something wrong?”
“Not at all. It gives me an idea of what to expect.” Jori gave Stamel a lingering glare before washing his hands and digging through his belongings. Unlike Nilla, he didn’t keep any tools on standby, but had magic. He flipped through what appeared to be a spellbook, the pages worn and the lettering done by hand.
“If you’re going to birth on your back and not walk around, this is a safe option.” Jori returned and pressed his hands around Seidrik’s belly, whispering a spell.
Seidrik had taken much coursework on thalmistry in his youth and understood portions of the spell, elasticity, blood flow, wind, and elements woven into it that made his head feel light and belly spasm harder. “Fuck!”
“There we go. Few more contractions and I think we can push.” Jori pulled another notebook out and wrote some hasty words in it, brow furrowed. “Just making notes for my memory. Every birth is different and has something to teach me.”
“As long as my child and I survive.” Seidrik huffed and breathed through a lull that slowly worked into another contraction.
As his head swam from the spellwork and intensity of sensation, he lost track of everything going on. Stamel muttered something while holding his hand. A cool rag daubed his forehead as Virion snapped something catty. To whom he directed it, Seidrik wasn’t certain. His only focus was the growing pressure plying his hips apart.
“Push!” Jori’s voice bit through the haze and Seidrik tried to, but found he already was. His body knew what to do. Stamel had his hand, letting him grip as tight as he wanted.
“Breathe, love. Breathe.” Stamel leaned down to kiss Seidrik’s temple.
“I am breathing!” Seidrik gasped and cried out, sensation racking through his body. Jori busied himself between Seidrik’s legs as his voice echoed around the room. He pushed again, then again, closing his eyes to block out all the fluttering until his hole stretched, body strained, and in an ultimate apex, he screamed.
Jori fumbled between his legs and rose, a pale sun fae child struggling in his arms. His hair was sodden dark and inundated with blood, but a swipe of a towel had that red hair exposed in a delightful wisp.
