Chapter Text
As Joshua progressed through his third pregnancy, war continued to rage between the duchy and the empire. Just within the last few months, the conflict had become bloody, with mounting casualties on both sides. Neither side fought on each other's land out of fear of the other’s strength, but carried the battle off into uninhabited places, tucked away in some isolated hole where escaping the sharp, cutting steel of a blade was impossible.
Thoughts of these brutal images churned up in his head fed Joshua a bout of melancholy. The physicians claimed he was suffering from a recessed mind due to his pregnancy. It was a common plague among expectant omegas, but Joshua knew his rejection of such a plague would be ignored so he chose not to even try.
Concerned for the lives of his men, Joshua asked often about their welfare and the current state of affairs Clive had most of the say in. But any missives from the battlefield were secretly given to Clive before they even reached the archduke's hands. In the Undying’s words, it would not do for Joshua's fragile state of being if he read about the horrors of war. Still, Joshua pressed daily about needing to be involved in these horrific matters, and there were those who loyally offered to fetch for him when he himself was not allowed.
“Wade," Joshua spoke gently from his place of rest in an armchair.
Sir Wade bowed and came to him.
“Take a missive."
“Yes, Your Grace."
Sir Wade stuck by his liege more often than not, greatly preferring his role as personal advisor to that of First Captain. With a quill in hand, he frequently remarked it felt more natural to him to write the words of His Grace than to stay behind the pommel of a blade. He sat at the writing desk and set to pen on the parchment.
"To whom is this missive being sent?”
"My Uncle Byron in Isolde,” Joshua answers quietly.
His uncle, their father's younger brother, was a gentle and very understanding man. There were things about him that made him seem a bit eccentric and unorthodox at times, but most who knew him regarded him with the utmost respect. His skill with foreign relations made him indispensable to the war effort, and Joshua knew that Clive often consulted with him on plans he drew up and quickly doubted.
How much his uncle knew about Joshua's current predicament was a shot in the dark. Joshua wanted to know if his uncle believed in the torturous traditions Father had cast upon him. The last he saw him was at their father's funeral, and they had barely shared more than a few words and a tight embrace before his uncle departed in tears for his manor. He was always a sweet man in Joshua's eyes, and never one to condone injustice.
The idea of writing to him came naturally to Joshua. He was family, and he adored his nephews. Joshua figured if he could at least find someone with power and authority to see his side of things, this pregnancy and the ones to follow might be just that much more bearable.
After Sir Wade dictated the missive, he placed it before Joshua so he could sign it. Joshua received the quill, but paused before it even marked the parchment.
“I want my uncle's response given to me directly as soon as it arrives," he said, staring hard at Wade.
“It shall be delivered to none but your hands, Your Grace. This I swear."
Wade then tied the rolled missive to the leg of a stolas bird and prepared to set it out of the bedroom window. As it took flight, the beat of Joshua's nervous heart went with it. To go against orders from his alpha and the Undying was wrong. So why did it give Joshua such satisfaction to commit such a sin behind their backs?
Suddenly, he felt discomfort in the secret place of his womb. His hand moved there and squeezed. Shifting in his chair with a quiet groan, Joshua prayed Clive's pup was alright, and that this was not to be his punishment for his blatant disobedience.
"Wade?” He called out almost in desperation.
"Yes, Your Grace, I'm here,” the man said, kneeling beside him. "Is everything well?”
Joshua grasps Wade’s hand and looks him in the eye. "Please tell me I did not just make a mistake that will cost me greatly?”
Wade shook his head and wore a kind, knowing smile. “You did not. There is no harm in writing to your uncle. I'm quite certain your alpha will understand."
But lately, situations with Clive were never so smooth or understanding.
"Joshua.”
Joshua is roused from his rest as his alpha stomps into the room with a stern, unapologetic tone. "Good afternoon, my alpha,” he says sweetly, attempting to defuse the anger in his alpha with as demure and submissive a greeting as he can manage.
"Did you write to Uncle?”
Joshua gulps. "Yes, I did,” he says with a nod.
"Why?” Clive demands. "You know you are not allowed to send missives without my permission.”
Joshua rubs over his growing swell to soothe himself. "I didn't think writing to Uncle Byron would cause such a disturbance.”
"Joshua,” Clive spouts again, stepping in. "We are at war.”
"I know that,” Joshua says.
"You could have put us – all of Rosaria – in jeopardy with your missive! Any and all correspondence that comes in and goes out of Rosalith is a risk to our safety and the lives of our people!"
“I… I don't understand,” Joshua admits under this twinge of guilt.
Clive scoffs, "Of course you don't understand.” He moves closer to the bed, muttering, "Your mind is under strain, and your emotions are erratic. Every omega goes through this…"
Joshua leans forward. “Please help me understand, Clive,” he begs softly.
"Did you sign it?”
The seriousness in Clive's tone makes Joshua afraid to respond in truth. "I… I did…”
"Fuck,” Clive growls, breathing heavily as he tries to keep his anger from flaring. "Why? Why would you do this? You don't have the energy to think clearly about these things before you do them!! Damn it, Joshua!!”
Joshua's throat is closing up with sobs. "Clive… I… Forgive me, I…"
“Joshua…” Clive curses again. "Stupid omega.”
Joshua chokes on a sob, caught completely by shock at Clive's words he dared to utter about him.
"I'm ordering your servants to confiscate all quills and parchment out of your reach.”
Joshua only minimally hears him. Blood pounds in his ears as he has just realized how Clive truly sees him. It is a shock that hits the deepest part of him and suddenly, he can't breathe. Tears blur his vision. His pregnant belly now feels like the chains in a prison cell - heavy and eternal.
When Clive looks back at his omega, his eyes are darker than Joshua has ever seen them. They are as a daemon’s eyes - blunt, cruel, and mocking. “You will rest now. It is what you are supposed to be doing, isn't it?"
Joshua can't answer. His voice is lost, nothing but sobs filling his throat.
"Do not ever overstep your alpha's law.” Clive leaves him with that. “I am your master, and you will obey, Omega."
The door slamming shut is what heralds the tears pouring down Joshua's face. He covers his mouth to keep the noise of his weeping low. With a hand on his aching, sometimes clenching belly, Joshua prays for his own survival.
But he feels that even the gods have abandoned him.
///
That night, in the solace of his late father's study, Clive sits in eerie silence. His mind is on nothing in particular, but his eyes are wide open. He stares, motionless, wearing a blank expression. His body twitches oddly in different places. These are signals to him. They are a warning that something is terribly wrong.
"I called him stupid…” He mumbles in the silence. "I called him stupid.”
He repeats this to himself again and again, becoming increasingly disturbed and erratic. He jumps up, breathing hard, and marches over to the window. There, he gazes out into the long dark, muttering the same phrase over and over. Suddenly, he groans in frustration, racing out of the room as if trying to escape something or someone.
Out in the corridor, he leans like a drunken man against the wall. He's panting and looking around frantically. He can't control himself. He has power over nothing at this moment. With a yell, he rips the dagger out of his hip pouch and runs into a room across the hall.
This room is a parlor, and still sits untouched since the days his father was alive. A sight completely foreign to all the people who know him best, a disheveled and crazed Clive Rosfield slumps to the floor. With a loud, hoarse wail, he plunges the dagger into his right palm. He lays himself along the cold, dusty floor, mournfully murmuring Joshua's name as his breathing grows faster due to sobbing.
“My lord?!"
Sir Wade was the one who found him. He came and touched him, managing to help him to his feet, but Clive was completely inconsolable. "What happened to you? Are you alright?!”
As far as Clive was concerned, invisible hands were guiding him back to safety. His head lolled back, blown-out eyes focused on the portrait looming above them in the shadows.
“Father…” Clive slurs, grasping his bloody, gushing hand with his other. He can't stop his whole body from shuddering. His father's portrait hangs there, silent, heavy judgement pouring from those dead, unseeing eyes. “Why did you do this…? I should never have listened to you…! Never!! I never wanted to be this!!”
More men, including Lord Murdoch, come to assist in lifting Clive back to his own separate chambers. There, the Undying try to clean and dress the wound in his hand, but Clive thrashes at them. He continues to yell like a mad man, sweat running down his temple as he shouts hideous things about his father. The Undying decide he is in the midst of an episode of insanity. Many acolytes, as well as a very reluctant Sir Wade, restrain the lord commander to give him an elixir, which will sedate him enough for sleep.
An hour later, when Clive is finally asleep, Lord Murdoch has to convince Bishop Cyril that it was only a break in Clive's mental state.
“It won't last, my lord," Rodney Murdoch says, glancing over at his heir to his title. "This war has put him under much strain. And with the archduke in expectant health once again, it is small wonder why he has stumbled like this.”
Cyril sighs with a shake of his head. “As much as I'd like to believe that, Master Murdoch, his current condition presents a most hazardous burden for us. As he is the commander of the army, we must first clear him to return to duty. Otherwise, it may come to having to choose a man to replace him.”
“Replace him? No," Rodney Murdoch replies with determination, encouraged only by the memories of that very bold and daring young soldier boy. Clive used to dream of one day leading the army. “He will recover. My lord knows his limits and what is expected of him. If he were replaced, it would surely be the end of him. Please, I ask that you put away your doubts and wait for him."
Cyril hums with dissatisfaction. “We will wait. But, my lord, remember that we do not have much time to wait for him. War is on our doorstep. Bear that in mind for yourself as well."
///
The next day, Joshua had an examination. The Undying were present as expected, but so was Lord Murdoch for Clive’s sake. The archduke's alpha had recovered well, but was still under surveillance in case he relapsed.
As the physician examined him, Joshua whined and squirmed against the man’s ministrations. He was so uncomfortable during this entire pregnancy, and it wasn't something he'd experienced before. It made him fearful for the coming months, and gave him reasons to question.
“Please…" Joshua whined again. “Let me close my legs now…”
"Almost, Your Grace,” the physician replied with a grumpy voice. He removes his hand after a few more moments and taps Joshua's legs to let him know he can bring them down. "Everything looks well, Your Grace. Although you are carrying low, you are following my advice, correct?”
With a grunt, Joshua struggles to sit up, but the Undying acolytes on either side of him hold him down to keep him on his back. "To the letter, my lord.”
“Good. Keep doing that and you will, without a doubt in my mind, have a very healthy birth."
But Joshua's hands felt nervously over his belly. Instinctively, as a mother does, he knew there was reason to doubt. He shook his head and said, "No. No, there's something wrong.”
The physician turns to him aggressively. "There is nothing wrong, Your Grace. Everything is in its place. You will be just fine until your time comes.”
"I can feel there is something wrong, my lord,” Joshua insists as gently as a mother would with a wayward, fussy child.
"Do you want there to be something wrong?!” The physician shouts, hovering over Joshua's naked legs.
Suddenly, all the men in the room take a bow. Joshua feels the pup in his womb roll and poke at his left side. He gasps, not sure whether to feel happy or frightened as Clive appears in his peripheral vision. Clive greets the men, and then leans down with a soft ‘hi’ as he nuzzles Joshua. Immediately, Joshua sensed there was something off about his alpha. The balance in his strength was tilted, the bandage around his palm a dead giveaway.
"What happened to your hand?” Joshua asked, his voice as timid and tender as it could sound.
"Nothing,” Clive mutters, shaking his head as he looks to the head physician. "How is he?”
"All is well, my lord,” the physician answers, feigning an angelic smile for his lord. Joshua turns away. “Another couple months, and you'll have another healthy pup to cradle in your strong arms.”
“Excellent," Clive says without much emotion. He's clearly disturbed. “We shall ensure he has plenty of rest…"
“No," Joshua blurts out, gathering all eyes to himself. Some are concerned, some are angry, but Clive seems distracted and anxious as he looks right at him. “No… Clive, there is something wrong."
The physician suddenly grasps Clive’s sleeve. “Ah, m-my lord! There is nothing wrong! I have given him a thorough examination and he and your pup appear to be in excellent health!"
Clive doesn't respond to him. He turns to Joshua and very calmly asks, “Joshua. What do you mean? Why do you think something is wrong?"
Joshua's shaky hands peruse his pregnant belly, still afraid to speak honestly with his alpha brother. "I… Whenever I feel the pup move, I… It is painful. And I've been constantly uncomfortable this pregnancy. I haven't felt such things before…”
Clive turns to the physician expectantly. The man is caught sweating and nervously sputtering.
"All the usual complaints from pregnant omegas, my lord!”
“Then, why hasn't my omega felt these ‘usual’ complaints until now?” Clive demands impatiently.
"It cannot be explained, Lord Commander! Omegas are mysterious and infuriating creatures.”
With a flick of his hand, Clive hisses, "Leave us.”
Once they are alone, Joshua swallows hard. He watches his alpha’s hands clench and unclench, his brows furrowed painfully as he paces back and forth. The quiet between them is suffocating. Joshua keeps rubbing over his belly to occupy himself, but the time he spends with his brooding brother is becoming far too uncomfortable.
“You don't believe me, do you?" Joshua finally asks. Breaking the silence took more courage than he was prepared to give.
Clive stares incredulously, his brows creased now with a rather heavy reluctance. “Joshua… I have to believe there's nothing wrong. We don't have the time nor the luxury to worry one of our pups might not be viable. Your past two pregnancies were fine.”
"I didn't have this issue in my last two pregnancies!” Joshua reminds him with a break in his voice, feeling hopeless. “They are all trying to convince you that I'm wrong! That I'm… That I don't know what I'm saying!”
Clive moves over to him and clasps one of Joshua's hands. “Isn't it enough for you that I don't believe them?"
“Enough…?” Joshua echoes the word like it stabbed him. He gazes hard into his brother's eyes.
“Think of our people," Clive suggests with a low, ominous tone. “They wish and they pray as they anxiously await the birth of our pup. To them, it is hope. Every heir we produce gives them hope it will grow to become an archduke worthy of their praise, ruling with grace and power."
"At the cost of my life?” Joshua questions desperately. "And what of our pup? We could both perish if something isn't right.”
"Joshua!” Clive exclaims, stroking his forehead out of irritation. “These fears are unfounded! In your condition, you do nothing but worry."
“They're not unfounded! Clive-!"
Clive cuts him off with a deep, sudden kiss. Joshua whines at him, pawing and pushing against him, but he cannot hope to match the strength of Clive’s powerful, dominating body. When Clive finally pulls back, Joshua has become flustered and uncertain. His mouth lies open as Clive’s lusty eyes linger on him. He wants to say something, but Clive is sure to try to silence him again. The sound of Joshua's involuntary purring makes Clive feel victorious, a smirk crossing his face.
“Hush," Clive nearly hisses, hand tangling itself in Joshua's hair. “We’ve had two pups already, and you came through beautifully with them. You will do the same with this one."
Joshua tries not to let Clive’s smooth touch on his belly lull him into submission. “Clive, please listen to me-"
“Shhhh…" Clive says again, toying with him as he pecks his lips over and over. “You are overtaxed, my love. You must rest now."
“Clive-!"
Joshua is overwhelmed by another suffocating kiss from his alpha. Clive gradually pushes him down, letting his weight sink onto him. Joshua's struggle means nothing to Clive, even as he squirms and whines under him to stop. Clive’s hands reach under and scoop Joshua closer. But Joshua still muffles in protest, unwilling to submit.
"Relax, Omega,” Clive says, using his alpha voice to send Joshua's mind into spiralling conflict. "Do as I say and rest.”
In every pregnancy so far, Joshua's entire body has been very sensitive to the touch. It has to do with his biology becoming unquestionably compliant to his alpha’s dominance over him, and to the pup his alpha placed in his womb. Joshua used to enjoy how his body shuddered and gave in to Clive’s touch, how he would move obediently into his gestures so Clive would be pleased.
But now, he's afraid to. Joshua fears that if he continues to give in, his life may be at risk. No one will listen to him, and no one seems to care for anything except what his womb can produce. Some of that stems from the pride Rosaria has in Clive’s seed, the seed Joshua suffers so much for just to bring into existence.
Joshua suddenly moans. His brother's lips are suckling at his little plump breast, his big hand cupping underneath the soft skin and pumping it. He arches into Clive's ministrations, his alpha's hand touching the mound of his shoulder and trailing gently down along his side, sending shivers of pleasure crawling up Joshua's entire body. It stops under Joshua's rump and squeezes, followed by Clive’s hot mouth in his ear.
“Be still, Omega."
Freed of Clive’s obsessive suckling on his omega’s overwhelmingly tender and sensitive breast, Joshua slowly relaxes under his alpha's warmth. He doesn't want to admit this to himself, but his submissive, omega brain loves the feeling of Clive’s weight sinking into him. It's a comfort he has come to despise.
As Clive slowly moves off of him, Joshua whines at the sudden loss of warm pressure. He stares down at the omega, eyes always dark, body language indifferent and commanding.
"Rest now. You will be fine.”
Joshua gulps, but nods his way out of punishment. Before Clive leaves, he kisses and nuzzles Joshua again, repeating his order for him to rest.
Still slightly purring, Joshua answers with a tired, "Yes… Alpha.”
As Joshua closes his eyes to sleep, he feels that clenching sensation in his belly again. It keeps him awake, makes him frightened. He cries over it, and over the loss of his alpha's tender care. Whatever happened to Clive is beyond Joshua to even know now, and Clive would certainly never share it with him.
Alone in the cold dark of their chambers, Joshua speaks softly to the pup in his womb.
His only comfort…
///
Despite everyone's reassurance, Clive paces anyway. It's a natural thing for an alpha father to do. Once again, he was shut out of his own chambers as his omega labored with their third pup. Founder, he'd never heard Joshua scream so. Every time Joshua let out a cry of pain, Clive stopped in his tracks. The men who waited with him kept trying to reassure him, but Clive was frantic even if he didn't quite show it.
And the memory of his argument with Joshua came back. All of Joshua's expressed fears and worries Clive had shelved. He lied, too; he really didn't believe there was something wrong with Joshua's pregnancy. But now, he couldn't help but wonder if he was the cause of all this misery Joshua was facing alone.
Alone…
Another scream has Clive whipping around out of fear. His heartbeat echoes in his ears, blood ringing in his head. He goes to the lead physician, who left the chambers to let his apprentices deal with a ‘simple birth’, as he called it.
“Tell me: how many omegas do you know that have died in childbirth?” Clive asks, gaze locked on the closed chamber doors.
“Only a handful, my lord," the physician answers. “But His Grace is strong. He will push through to give His Lordship another healthy son. Mind you, it isn't common for omegas to die in childbirth." He adds that with a small chuckle, as if the situation held humor to it!
The next scream Clive hears tears at his heart. He can't stay away, and he refuses to lose Joshua. He races to the chamber doors.
“My lord, you mustn't!" The physician shouts after him. “It is not necessary! Alphas should not be present!"
“I was there when it was conceived, I will be there when it is born!" Clive yells in return.
When he bursts into his chambers, the room is hectic. Servants and healers are pacing, carrying bloody bedding and basins of reddish water around like they don't know what they are doing. Some servants are ordered to hold Joshua still, even as he thrashes and cries out against them. Two physician apprentices, elderly men, tend to Joshua, but they seem distressed as well. Clive can't stop staring at all the blood on everything as he comes around to tap the shoulder of the apprentice between his omega's legs.
"What is wrong?” That word haunts him as he glances between Joshua's legs and all he sees is beautiful flesh covered in blood. “What's happening to him?!"
“The pup is stuck, my lord," the physician says, gesturing to the servants above. “We believe it to be trapped between his hips."
“What can…” Clive trails off as Joshua wails in pain, fighting against the servants restraining him. "What can be done? Will he… Will he perish?!"
“We shall not let it come to that, my lord. We must give him an elixir to calm him down."
“No! I don't want it!" Joshua cries, struggling and whining. His mind is clearly blocked by all the pain.
"Will it…?”
Clive’s words become lost as the lead physician comes around carrying a long, two-pronged piece of metal. At the sight of it, he covers his mouth. Nausea surges up, fear swirling like a storm in his stomach. He grows lightheaded and suddenly feels faint, but Joshua's screams are what bring him back to reality.
"Joshua…" Clive moves to be with Joshua, nuzzling and kissing him wherever he can to help him calm down. But the elixir they forced down his throat is already taking care of that. He talks softly to Joshua as his omega limply moans. “What are those…?"
“We must take the pup," the physician explains, having two servants hold Joshua's thighs wide open. “If we don't, well…”
Clive can't watch as the pronged metal dips between Joshua's legs. He kisses Joshua on the forehead and prays he will live through this, Joshua's weak protests caught in his ears.
“I'm sorry," Clive whimpers, smearing his face with the clammy sweat of Joshua’s hand. “I'm sorry, Joshua…"
///
It was a boy.
Another healthy son was born to Clive after a long, hard labor. But in the hours that followed, Joshua waned and eventually fell into a weak sleep. He had lost so much blood, and the trauma it placed on his body was unimaginably significant. He hadn't even seen or held his newborn pup before his body gave in to an unconscious state. Clive hopes he at least heard the shrieking cries of their precious little boy when he came out.
Clive had heard stories of some omegas suffering permanent trauma from childbirth, but he didn't expect such a nightmare to unfold for Joshua. Right after the pup was born, he watched with horror as Joshua slumped, his eyes rolling closed as he fell against the bed. The physicians were doing all they could, but even the most they could do was almost futile.
Two days later, Clive was still camped at his omega's side, praying he would live, begging the gods to spare him; some of Clive's prayers held slurs towards their late father, for forcing this inescapable torture on Joshua. Then he cursed himself for perpetrating the use of this prison their father had meticulously planned and struggled to perfect from the day Joshua first presented.
But this was duty, was it not? Who was Clive if he wasn't all that his father and the duchy expected of him?
Still, Clive singularly blamed himself for this. He had ignored Joshua's outspoken fears and set him in chains. Though he knew he had no right to be close to him, Clive couldn't bear to leave him. He breathed hard over Joshua, begging him to forgive him. He prayed and he wept – day and night. He wanted to protest when the maids would arrive with the newborn and let it suckle from Joshua's breasts, but he knew deep down that the child needed his mother's nutrients for as long as Joshua's body would continue to give them.
He named the raven-haired, fair-skinned pup Xavier – for Joshua.
Another day passed. With no sign of physical recovery in the Archduke of Rosaria, the Undying were due to arrive to chronicle what everyone thought would be Joshua's passing. The servants followed orders to drape black curtains in every room of the castle, signalling a probability most everyone had thought of already. Clive couldn't stand the formalities the visitors to their chambers gave, where they kissed Joshua's soft cheek and read aloud their own prayer of parting. It all felt too final, like giving up…
“Joshua…" Clive whispered when it sounded like Joshua may have taken a breath. “I love you… You can't leave me like this…"
Joshua was deathly pale and his lips had a tinge of blue to them. His normally vibrant, golden hair was matted and greasy, his skin clammy, dull, and stained with blood, the bed he laid on soaked in that same blood and fetal juices. No one cared to move him to clean everything; the physicians had even warned against it simply because he was a dirty, little omega. So Joshua remained in a mess of his body's own making, the secret place between his legs having suffered the greatest wounds.
“Don't leave me…!” Clive pleads with his sweet omega in the silence, leaning over him and laying his head upon his breasts. Under those tender, beautiful breasts beat the soft, nearly comatose heart of his mate. The pitiful, faint sounds it made brought him to tears once more. "I love you, Joshua… I… I need you…"
Around him, the servants were finally putting up the black curtains in the only room they hadn't touched. Clive’s heart raced at the dreadful sight of them. He held onto Joshua tighter, clinging to whatever small piece of life was left in Joshua.
By the door, Bishop Cyril stood sentry, Lord Murdoch beside him.
“If His Grace still shows no improvement with the coming of the dawn… We shall make the necessary arrangements.”
///
In the first hours before dawn, Joshua barely stirred. After three days, he took a breath voluntarily and shifted, feeling a warmth laying on his belly. It was heavy, but something he had felt before; the gentle pressure of it drew fond memories close and locked away the lingering, stinging pain of childbirth. He opened his eyes, as weak as he felt, and on the now empty swell of his belly laid his ever-faithful alpha.
Tears made it even harder to do anything. But Joshua called out anyway, his omega instinct telling him he needed none but his strong alpha. In a shaky breath, his voice raw and just above a rasp, he called to him. “Clive…”
Slowly, Joshua moved his hand that Clive held under his cheek as he slept. His alpha sputtered awake, looking as weary and battle worn as a dying soldier. But the instant he saw Joshua's hazy blue eyes gazing down at him, he came to life. A smile burst onto his face, tears streaming along his scruffy cheeks. He wept Joshua's name, only the frame of his mouth able to curl around his omega's name.
Bittersweet joy tangled itself up in Joshua's heart. He loved Clive, and he could not abandon the happiness that soaked in at the sight of him so relieved to see Joshua alive. He cries because he can't process all of his conflicting emotions at once. He just gave birth and nearly died. That is enough.
“Clive…” Joshua finds himself weeping his brother's name over and over again, the only word in his head as Clive nuzzles desperately into Joshua's empty swell. He realizes in this small, intimate space… That Clive truly does own him. All of him. And that, he knows he would be a fool to refuse.
“Oh, Joshua!" Clive finally finds his voice, down on his knees as he blesses Joshua's swelled belly. “Joshua, my love… You're alive!!" He carefully kisses his lips, hand curled around his neck. “You came back to me…!”
Joshua doesn't flinch, doesn't pull away. He weeps with his alpha, beyond grateful to feel alive in his arms again. They hold each other, Clive expressing sheer elation to hear Joshua purring.
“My sweet omega," Clive says, looking Joshua over as if he'll suddenly disappear. “I… I couldn't breathe. I couldn't live without you!"
Joshua’s tender fingers trace the rugged features of his brother's face. So familiar, so powerful. “Clive," he says in a breath of exhaustion. “Our pup…?”
"Another son,” Clive answers, shushing his omega softly. "He's fine, but I just want to be with you right now.”
"With me…” Joshua purrs louder at those words.
"Forgive me, my beautiful omega…"
Joshua looks into his alpha's eyes. If he can see honesty there, he doesn't recognize it. But having just come back to life, he doesn't doubt. He receives Clive’s love gratefully because it is warm and gentle and careful – all the things he thought Clive had forgotten to be with him.
Once news had spread of His Grace recovering, Bishop Cyril gave orders. The black curtains were torn down, good news taken by a messenger to the leaders of the high court, and a scribe once again assigned the task of recording the timing of the archduke's next heats.
"Every six months,” the Undying leader told the scribe. "We wait. Six months shall soon be upon us as if it were the passing of a single moon.”