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tinybibmpreg · 5 years

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Day 66 // ft. Pythrormr, Dreya, Oliver & Alban

#12 / Safe and Sound

“No no–it’s alright, come here,” Pythrormr beckoned his son closer. The boy hesitated, and then stepped forward. He gently tugged the boy against him, and took a moment to soothe and nuzzle him, rumbling softly. He brushed a clawed finger over the boy’s head-feathers, marveling still at how different the short, rounded squares were from his own sleek and pointy ones. They were puffy and soft in contrast to his silky feathers.

Two-toned eyes stared up at him, and he kissed the boy’s smooth forehead. “Father, are you okay?”

“I'm fine, my dear, just in labor. Your sibling is on their way.” He rubbed his swollen belly, and his son put a tiny hand on it as well. The baby kicked, and as he winced, his son grinned.

“Hello! It’s me, your brother, Oliver! Father says you’re going to be born soon. I’m excited to meet you.”

“And I’m sure they’re just as excited to meet you as well. N-now…” A contraction gripped him, stronger than all the previous ones, and he trailed off, holding his belly. “Ooh…”

Oliver searched his face, frowning. “Father?”

“Oh, j-just a moment, darling- mm…” Oliver crawled off of his lap, and knelt next to him as he laid down on his side. He buried his face into a pillow to muffle the noises he was making. Oliver pet his hair, making a small cooing sound, mimicking the one he often made when the boy was upset.

After a minute, the contraction faded away, and he took a moment to steady his breathing. Then, he turned his face towards his son. “Oliver… I need you to go down the road to the house with the dead tree and knock on the door. Ask for Miss Draya. Be very polite. When she asks you what you’re doing there, tell her the General needs her help.”

“Okay.”

“If she asks how far along I am, just say I told you I’m very close.”

Oliver nodded. Pythrormr rubbed his head, and pressed another kiss to his forehead.

“Good boy. Now, hurry.” After a pat to the shoulder, Oliver climbed off the bed and ran off. As soon as he heard the front door slam shut, he sighed and began to undress. He got off the bed and looked around at the candles and charms he’d set up. He adjusted a few of them, and lit the final candle at the small shrine on the nightstand.

He drank the concoction that had been sitting in the center of the shrine since he’d first realized he was in labor, wincing at the bitter taste of it.

All that was left of the ritual was a prayer, so he got comfortable in his nest and recited the chant he’d once heard at the other side of the lake, the one he’d repeated over and over while straining to deliver Oliver over six years ago.

Though Oliver was young, he understood what was going on. His bearer liked to baby him, pretend he was ignorant of many things, but he knew that having a baby hurt a lot, and that his bearer would be sick and in pain until his sibling was born. He’d read a few books about it.

Still, he didn’t like seeing his bearer in pain, and it did scare him. The books described how childbirth was dangerous, and that things could go wrong for both the bearer and infant.

It hurt his lungs to run all the way to the house with the tree, but his bearer had told him to hurry, so he did. Running always made breathing difficult, especially if he ran for an extended period of time. Oliver slowed down when he reached the property, and went up the door. He knocked, and waited, coughing.

Doing that didn’t make his chest feel any better, but he couldn’t help it.

The door opened, and a reptilian woman with long brown and black headfeathers glared down at him through her thick glasses. “What are you supposed to be?”

“I’m Oliver. Are you Miss Dreya?”

She snarled and corrected, “It’s Professor Dreya to you, Oliver. What do you want?”

“The General needs your help, Professor!”

Her eyes widened. “So you’re that wretched creature he delivered six years ago. Great to see the cause of my banishment choking ungratefully at my doorstep, I suppose.”

He didn’t know what he was supposed to say in response to that. “Hello.”

“Hello.” She sighed, her ruffled feathers smoothing down. “So, your bearer’s having another mongrel, is he?”

Mongrel wasn’t a word he had heard before. “He’s having a baby.”

“And he wants me to help him.”

Oliver nodded.

She resigned to her fate. “Alright. How far along is he?”

“He said he’s close.”

“Great, a nonspecific answer. Hey, did you run here?”

“Yeah.”

“...Are you alright?”

He shook his head. “I have bad lungs.”

“We’ll take my truck over. Come on.”

In between pants and groans, Pythrormr prayed to his beloved’s gods, even if he did not believe in them, in words he only half understood. He knew the father would have wanted the children to be born according to his culture’s tradition, and though the man had no idea he had sired two offspring, Pythrormr would not disappoint him.

He could feel the urge to push growing stronger with each contraction, but waited. Until the urge was irresistible, or if Dreya had told him he was ready, he would hold back.

The front door opened, and he heard his son’s light footsteps, as well as the heavy steps of a reptilian, the dragging of a long tail.

“Father, I brought Professor Dreya!” Oliver brought the former professor into the bedroom. Dreya looked just as irritated as always, her feathers ruffling as she took in the sight of him laboring in his nest. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yesss… Your sssibling issss quite clossse…”

“I’ll be the judge of that, sir. You just lay back and actually try to relax this time. Oliver, go make yourself as out of the way as possible.” She put her medical kit on the bed next to him as she approached, a look of disdain on her face. With a bit more force than necessary, she moved his leg out of the way.

“He… He can sssstay… Ah…”

“I said to relax,” she growled, two of her declawed fingers pressing into his cloaca. He leaned his head back and focused on breathing, mouthing the words to the prayer. “You still have a few centimeters to go.”

“But I-”

“-Feel the urge to push,” she finished for him. “I know. But yet again, your body has no idea what it’s doing. That’s why we don’t have little hybrid babies all alone on the outskirts of the desert.”

“I… I have you.”

“Against my better judgement. I should hold your little half-breed hostage until you reinstate me back into society.”

“I’ll- I’ll kill you if you hurt him, Dreya.” He pushed himself up with one arm, teeth bared. Then he fell back on his side as his abdomen contracted, groaning.

Dreya moved towards Oliver. The boy hissed and darted to the bed, ducking under her arms. Pythrormr forced himself to get to his knees, pulling his son close. His headfeathers flared, and he growled at her even as the pain made him want to curl up.

“Always on alert, ready for anyone to strike, no matter how injured, how ill. That’s General Pythrormr- ready to kill even when he’s an hour away from delivering a hybrid that won’t survive past the age of ten.”

He refused to believe that Oliver wouldn’t survive to adulthood. His blood had always survived impossible odds. Oliver was a fighter at heart, just like everyone else in his bearer’s family. The baby would be as well.

Though… he glanced down at his son. Oliver had just run a distance that would be easy for any reptilian child his age, or even a younger one his size, and his breathing was ragged, his chest no doubt wracked with pain. He could feel his son’s heart racing against his skin, not from fear, but overexertion.

He knew even a human child wouldn’t still be so worn down.

“Well, General? Do you believe your children will survive?”

“They’re my blood.”

“The both of them are lucky to be carried to term at all. They need doctors and daily medical care. You leave that boy here all alone, don’t you? Just him out in the desert, just a few miles away from me.”

Of course Dreya still held a grudge against him. He shouldn’t have expected her to forgive him after so long. It’d been foolish of him to think he could actually have help during his delivery.

He had Oliver move behind him, and when Dreya pulled a knife from her coat, he lunged at her.

It was exhausting to kill and then drag a body outside, and to clean the blood from his scales, but he refused to have a corpse looking at him while he gave birth to his beloved’s second child.

Oliver was unfazed by the death, but worried about him as he sank to his knees in the doorway. He doubted Dreya had told the truth about how dilated he was, so he bore down, groaning.

“Father!” Oliver hurried over to him.

Pythrormr did a count in his head, and then relaxed, panting. “Hey, Oli… Would you mind cleaning up the floor in here while I have your sibling?”

“Okay.” Oliver, always the obedient child, did as he was told. He left the room to find cleaning supplies, and Pythrormr crawled over to the bed. He pulled himself up onto it, and got into position. As soon as he was ready, he pushed again.

Just as Oliver’s birth was excruciating, this one was too. He didn’t understand why it hurt so much to deliver such small babies, but his body insisted on making it as painful as possible.

His son cleaned up the blood splatters on the floor, and picked up and relit a candle that had fallen. Once all the blood was gone, soaked up by towels, Oliver came over and asked, “Do you need anything, Father?”

He shook his head. Oliver still seemed worried about him, and sat down on the floor next to the bed.

The boy stayed quiet and huddled up until Pythrormr gave one last yell. The baby slid out onto the bed, and he gasped. Carefully, he lifted up the baby and laid them down on his belly. As he wiped the baby clean with a small towel, Oliver peered over the edge of the mattress.

“You have a little brother, dear.” Oliver’s eyes brightened, but he didn’t move. Laughing softly, Pythrormr reached for him. Oliver climbed onto the bed and crawled closer. The baby began to cry, a quiet whine just as Oliver had done as a newborn. He finished wiping the baby clean, and wrapped him up in a soft blanket. Leaning back against the wall, he held the baby to his chest and tugged Oliver against his side.

His son was enamored with his new sibling. “Hi there, brother… I’m your big brother, Oliver.” The boy looked up at him and asked, “Father, what’s his name?”

“I’m not sure yet, dear. It took me a few hours to come up with yours…”

“He looks like me. But without my spots.” Oliver was albino, but with patches of brown on him that was very similar to his father’s skin color. The baby was all white, not a single brown scale or speck of flesh to be seen.

Typical of young children, the baby had far less scales than he or Oliver, and the scales he did have were fairly smooth.

“His eyes aren’t like mine either…’ Oliver said, as the baby settled down and opened his eyes, revealing pale pink eyes. His pupils were the same shape as Pythrormr’s.

“They’re the same as half of your eyes.” Each of Oliver’s eyes were half brown on the side close to his nose, while the outer half was pale pink. “Would you like to hold him while I take a shower?”

“Yeah!” Oliver happily took his little brother, and once Pythrormr was certain he had a good hold on the baby, he left to take his shower. It felt great to feel hot water on his scales, and to get the fluids off of his thighs. He felt horribly sore between his legs, and it hurt to touch his slit.

The water started to turn cold, so he shut it off and dried himself with the last towel he could find. He found and pulled on a pair of underwear and some shorts, deciding to go without a top so he could get some skin-to-skin with the baby.

It felt nice to lay down in his nest, knowing they were all safe and sound. The baby was cooing at Oliver, and his son was purring loud, a scratchy rumble Pythrormr loved to hear more than anything. He had Oliver lay down next to him after retrieving a diaper for the baby, and pulled the baby against his chest. He would have to prepare food for the baby, and give him a proper bath, but for now he was content to let them all relax.

He was just about to doze off when Oliver asked, “Have you thought of a name yet?”

“Hm… How about Alban? Oliver and Alban… I think your father will love your names.”

“They’re human names, right?”

“Human names, just like him. He’ll be so proud of you two. You’re both perfect.”

“Even if I’m really sick all the time?” No doubt the baby would be just as weak as Oliver, have the same poor immunity and fragile skin.

“Yes. You’ll always be my perfect boys. Your father will agree.”

“When are we going to meet him?”

“I don’t know, Oli. Maybe when you’re both bigger. It’s a long trip to where he lives. Your brother is too small to make it that far without a doctor, and I’m afraid there’s no doctors who would go with us.”

He had considered taking Oliver with him to the isolated territory his beloved resided in the last time he’d gone, but did not. He was too focused on work, and wouldn’t have been able to have had the time necessary for introducing Oliver to his father. He’d been lucky to have a night alone with his beloved. Now Alban was squirming in his arms, and he couldn’t risk traveling so far with a newborn.

“Okay. I hope it won’t be too much longer, though. I want him to meet Alban too.”

“So do I, dear.”

#here's a birth one for the holidays lmao #oblio's fics #original #mpreg #male pregnancy #mpreg birth #labor #Oliver (WRiE)#Alban (WRiE)#General Pythrormr #Professor Dreya (WRiE)#What's Right in Exchange

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tinybibmpreg · 5 years

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Day 70 // ft. Pythrormr, Ezra, and Oliver & Alban

#7 / Weapon

“What? Does that feel good?” Ezra held the knife tightly in his hand, smiling up at Pythrormr as the man’s scales darkened and his headfeathers ruffled. “Do you like being cut up?”

“Mm, yessss… You cut my neck the night Oliver was- ah!” A quick slice of the blade left a shallow cut on the reptilian’s neck. Green blood welled up, and Pythrormr swallowed hard. Ezra was glad that the man was laying back, propped up against a stack of pillows, so he could nip at his mouth without having to pull him down. Reptilians were quite tall compared to humans, and Pythrormr was especially large, built like the warrior he was. Ezra smirked as he groaned, and pressed a harsh kiss to his lips. Their teeth clacked together, and he tasted blood. “Beloved…”

“So, the Gods are into knives, are they?” He had no memory of the nights any of his children were conceived, as his Gods had possessed his body to carry out their will. “Or did they just know what a masochist you are?”

“B-both, I think.”

“Goodness, look at you. You’re half a mess, and I’ve only cut you twice.”

“You know how sensitive I am.”

“Of course I do.” Ezra rubbed the man’s swollen belly. “You’re practically insatiable. Now, be a good boy and settle down. No untoward behavior until after the wedding.” He pushed himself away from Pythrormr, hiding his smile as the man protested.

“We have two, soon to be at least four, children! No one will care if we make love outside of marriage.”

“The Gods will.”

“They’re the ones who impregnated me with your body three times.”

“Exactly! If they wanted me to have sex with you before we get married, they would take over my body again, or speak to me and tell me it was alright.”

“Please… It’s already maddening that I can’t evert, won’t you help me?” Pythrormr wrapped his tail around his waist, pulling him back. “Dearest…”

The human chuckled, and put a finger over the other’s lips. “Ah, ah. We talked about this. I’ll let you stay by my side only if you respect my beliefs and traditions. The boys are obedient, I’m sure you can be too.”

“Oh, alright. But it’s easier for them. They’re children.”

“Oliver struggles with the rules.”

“Only because he’s still upset about what happened with the Cosmos clan. Besides, Alban is an infant. He doesn’t count.”

“I suppose not. Why don’t you go check on him?” Sighing, Pythrormr got up, tied a blanket around his waist, and went into the next room. Oliver was sleeping, curled up around his pillow, his blankets in disarray. He jolted awake when he heard the sound of someone entering the room.

“It’s just me, dear. Go back to sleep.” He stopped at Oliver’s bedside and stroked the boy’s hair. “You’re safe.”

“I had a bad dream, Father.” Oliver reached up at him, so. Pythrormr picked him up. The boy tucked his head against his father’s throat, and then made a curious sound. “You’re bleeding…”

“Nothing to worry about, dear. Just a little ritual between your father and I.” He nuzzled the boy’s head, and walked over to Alban’s crib. The baby stared up at him with the tip of his forked tongue sticking out, squirming. His little tail curled and unfurled. “Hello, sweetling. Did you have bad dreams too?”

Alban gave a quiet whine, and Oliver extended an arm down towards his brother. “Hussshhh. I’m here, kitten.” Pythrormr lifted up the baby as well, and cradled him against his chest. “My poor little dears, plagued by nightmares. I wonder if your father has a remedy for that.”

“He’s still up?”

“Of course.” He brought both children to the bedroom.

Ezra was cleaning the knife off. He gave it one final wipe and returned it to its sheath. Then, he looked up and gave the boys a smile. “Hello, children. You’re still awake?”

“We had nightmares.” Ezra took Oliver from Pythrormr and set the boy on his lap. “Do you ever have nightmares, sir?”

“When I was a boy, I had all sorts of bad dreams. Now, I don’t dream at all unless the Gods are showing me something.”

“What’d you do when you had them?” Oliver asked.

“Well, my mother would take me on her lap, like this.” He turned Oliver towards him, and wrapped his arms around him, clasping his hands together behind the boy’s back. “And then she would ask me about my dreams. Then, she would tell me a story until I fell back asleep.

Pythrormr climbed back onto the bed, pulling a few blankets over himself, just beneath his chest. He let Alban curl up on top of him, and rubbed the baby’s back. He purred, a low rumble deep in his chest, and Alban purred as well.

Ezra reached over and plucked Alban off, putting him between Oliver and himself. Pythrormr hissed quietly, glaring. “I had a little sister once, and Mother would hold us like this during rough nights.”

Hugging his brother, Oliver smiled. “Hi, Alban!”

“Ah!” Alban cooed, his purring growing louder. “Ah-li!”

“Beloved…. I was holding him.”

“How can I tell them both a story properly if Alban is over with you?” Ezra grinned at him, his eyes opening as wide as they could with the threads connecting his eyelids. “Besides, you must be tired, carrying the clutch. You should pull on your pajamas to keep warm and get rest.”

Grumbling, Pythrormr protested, “I can hold my baby even if I’m tired.” Still, he found his night clothes in the folds of the blankets and pulled them on. Ezra reached over to give his belly a rub before hooking his hands back around the children.

To Pythrormr, Ezra said, “Sleep well, General.” Then, he turned his focus back to the boys and asked, “Why don’t you tell me about your bad dream, Oli?”

“I was dreaming about being on the run with Alban and Maura again.”

“Was it a memory?”

“It started off as one, and then it got kind of different… I ended up hurting Maura, and then her master hurt me and took Alban away again while I was trying to hide.”

“How did you hurt Maura?”

“With a bent, bloody pipe.”

“And how did you come across a pipe?”

“We were in an alley, in the city, and-” Oliver stopped there, a haunted look in his two-toned eyes. “And there was junk everywhere.”

“Why did you pick up the pipe?” Oliver whimpered, and Pythrormr had a strong feeling that Oliver had been holding the bloody pipe in the memory, and not the nightmare. “Okay, then why did you hurt Maura in your dream?”

“She... she was mad at me. Which didn’t really happen. Maura never got mad at me.”

“Why was she mad?”

“Cause I did something that made her scared. Only it made her mad instead.”

“...What did you do to upset her?”

“You’ll just get mad at me if I tell you. It’s not a nice thing.”

“But it was a nightmare. You didn’t really do anything to upset her.”

“No… Her getting mad was what was different. Everything before that was real.” He looked down at Alban, and his brother cooed up at him. “Can you just tell a story?”

“Oliver… Did you hurt someone besides Maura?”

“I was just protecting us. He was gonna take us back to Maura’s master.”

“How badly did you hurt him with your pipe?”

Oliver sniffled, burying his face against his brother’s head. Ezra rubbed his back until Oliver finally mumbled, “I killed him. And I kept hitting him until Maura told me to stop, ‘cause I was really scared…”

“You did the right thing, dear.” Pythrormr told him. Ezra glanced over at him, and Pythrormr stared at him, daring him to say anything different. “You were protecting your brother. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.”

“No, of course not. Now, how about we put all those bad memories aside and I’ll tell you an old story my mother used to tell me and the other sister I once had.”

Oliver lifted his head, perking up. “How many sisters do you have, sir?”

“None. I haven’t had sisters in a very long time.”

#oblio's fics #original #mpreg #male pregnancy #nsfw-ish #General Pythrormr #Ezra 'The Prophet'#Oliver (WRiE)#Alban (WRiE)#Maura (WRiE)#What's Right in Exchange

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tinybibmpreg · 5 years

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Day 76 // ft. Ezra, Pythrormr, Lilian, Lizabeth, Lindsey, a couple of the conevites, and Oliver & Alban

#66 / Sisters

“You said you’d always be there for me… so how did this happened? Why weren’t you there?” his little sister asked him, tears in her deep brown eyes, her hyperbolic triangle pupils blown wide with fear. He looked down at the seven year old in indifference, even as there was crashing on the first floor.

There was a piercing scream from another of his sisters, which abruptly cut off with a horrible gagging sound. His mother wailed, that same cry she always made when this happened. He glanced at the door. His sister grew restless, and grabbed his shirt.

“It’s happening again! You have to do something!”

He crouched down to look her directly in the eyes. Tears spilled over her cheeks, and he told her, “The only thing I have to do, sister, is survive.”

“Please, don’t let them hurt me…” Selfish, only begging for her own life. He pried her hands off of him and stood up straight. “No! Don’t leave again! Please!” Footsteps came up the stairs, and he heard his mother shout the names of him and his remaining sisters.

As someone broke through the door with an ax, he hopped out the window and left, those pretty voices in the back of his head he worshiped telling him exactly where to go.

Oliver still hadn’t made friends with the other children in his father’s village, and it was starting to bother him. Alban was too young to play games with rules, and hadn’t learned to walk yet. His bearer had liked playing with him when they first moved, but now that he was almost due with more babies, he was too tired and achy to play. The village doctor had told him to stay off his feet as much as possible, so that meant his bearer couldn’t come outside and play with him. His father was always very busy, so they rarely played together.

He wasn’t sure why the other children hadn’t gotten used to him yet. He’d been there for almost a year, and he was their leader’s son. Since everyone loved his father and weren’t afraid of him, he was confused. They’d gotten used to his bearer, though he suspected it was only because his bearer had turned into something of an accessory to his father. He’d asked his father if the others didn’t like him because he looked strange, but his father had called that silly, saying that judging others based on appearance wasn’t something the Gods’ worshipers did.

So he played by himself away from all the other children, taking a ball or toy with him. Sometimes he would sit and watch the wind blow in the grassy hills surrounding the village, or settle down by the river and soak up the sun.

Today, he laid atop a small, grassy hill after spending a while kicking a ball around, and absorbed the sunlight beating down on him. The temperature was fairly high, and he was pleasantly warm. After a while, he turned his head to look over at the river.

He sat up straight when he saw three people in some kind of roofless vehicle. Immediately, he regretted being so startled. They spotted him, and the vehicle veered off towards him. He debated running, but decided that they would easily catch up to him in the vehicle. It’d be better to wait for them to get out of it before trying to fight or flee. His knife was strapped to his leg, and he was a quick draw.

The vehicle slowed to a halt at the base of the hill, and one of the people hopped out, hands raised up to show they had no weapons. He stood up, keeping his hand on his knife. The person walked up to him, and he could see that they were human, an adult woman. Her pupils were a triangular shape he had never seen before, like someone had squeezed the sides of the triangle in.

She smiled down at him, and thought there was something familiar about her face, though he certainly didn’t recognize her. Glancing at the vehicle, he saw the other two were human women as well, both similar to the first in appearance, though varying in age. Her voice was familiar as well as she greeted him with a, “Hey kid, how ya doing?”

“Who are you?”

“Wow, they said the conevites didn’t like outsiders, but… You’re not a conevite, are you? They’ve got big ears.” When he didn’t respond, she sighed and answered, “My name is Lilian. These are my sisters, Lizabeth and Lindsey. What’s your name?”

“My parents said not to give my name to strangers.”

“Sensible. Do you live with the conevites?”

“Yeah. What do you want? We don’t conduct trades or sales in town.”

“Oh! We’re not traders! We’re looking for someone. Our brother. We heard rumors that he went to the conevites for help twenty years ago, and wanted to know if anyone could help us find him.”

“There’s only one human in town. The Prophet, Ezra. I could ask him if he knows about your brother. He’s been here for a really long time. And since you’re not selling anything or trying to stay, I guess you could come ask people.”

She beamed. “Thank you!”

“What’s your brother’s name?”

“Morrigan Barnett.”

One of the conevites dragged him aside by the arm when he walked into the village, the three sisters behind him in their vehicle. “Oliver, who are those people?”

“They’re humans. Lilian, Lizabeth, and Lindsey. Their brother went missing twenty years ago, and they heard he came here for help. I’m going to ask my father if he can help them find him.”

“Oh. Hm… I would have been a child. I don’t remember any humans besides the Prophet coming here.”

“Do you know where my father is?”

“He’s still in the house with your mother.”

He thanked them, and began walking to the house. The sisters stopped their vehicle in the village square, and he glanced back at them to see Lilian greeting a few of the older conevites. Since his father’s house was just outside the village, on the top of a hill with a large, flat peak, and he didn’t want his chest to start hurting, he walked slowly up the path.

When he got to the house, he walked right in, knocking on the door frame to alert his bearer that he was back. His parents and brother were in the main room. His bearer was lounging on the couch, his brother lying on a pillow by his bearer’s knee. His father was by the shrine, praying. Oliver stayed quiet, knowing he wasn’t supposed to interrupt. So he waited, and went up to his bearer. He received a kiss on the forehead, and his bearer had him sit so he could pluck the grass strands from his headfeathers.

His bearer’s arm wrapped around him, and he leaned back against him. He could feel and hear the man purring, and he soon dozed off.

When he startled awake as his bearer shifted, he could see that the sunlight streaming through the windows was dim. His bearer rubbed his arm. “It’s okay, dear, you just slept for a few hours.”

“Ah… I had something I wanted to ask Father about.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. You just looked like you needed the sleep. I know Alban and I did too.”

Before Oliver could say it was alright, his father entered the room, a smile on his unmasked face. “I heard you ask for me.”

Oliver got up and took a few steps closer. “Yes, I had a question.”

“Of course. What is it?”

“Do you know who Morrigan Barnett is?” he asked.

The smile on his father’s face was quickly replaced with one of anger, and before Oliver could even see it coming, his father had struck him hard across the face. He was thrown to the ground by the force of it. Too shocked to react, he laid there. His father dropped down, grabbed him by the shirt collar, and demanded, “Where did you hear that name?!”

He was released just as quickly as he was grabbed, as his bearer snarled and lunged at his father, grabbing him and forcing him to the ground. Oliver sat up and touched his face. His body finally registered the pain, and tears welled up in his eyes. His little brother wailed.

“How dare you hit our sssson! What isss wrong with you?”

“Where did he find out about that name?”

His bearer ignored the question, hissing, “If you ever touch my children again, I will kill you. I don’t care who you are, I’ll rip you to piecessss. No one touchesss them.”

“Get off-! Oliver, tell me where you heard that name!”

“Don’t yell at my ssson!” His bearer pressed down on his father’s throat. It looked like he was about to kill him, and Oliver was petrified, his chest hurting. He didn’t understand what was going on at all. He squeezed his eyes shut to try and wake himself up, but the snarling and wailing didn’t stop, and he was still sitting on the floor when he opened his eyes.

Though he found it difficult to get in enough air, he answered his father’s question. “I- I heard the name from three humans. They’re- they’re in town, ‘cause- ‘cause their brother Morrigan went missing a long time okay, and- and they’re… they’re looking for him. I… I said I’d ask you…” His eyes stung, and he hugged his legs to his chest, starting to sob.

His bearer released his father, but kept growling at him as he picked up the two children. They left the house, and Oliver didn’t look up to see where they were going. He heard his father shouting for them, but his voice got quieter.

“General! What’s wrong? What are you doing on your feet?” Oliver glanced at the person.

“Protecting my children.”

“Did something happen?”

“Ezra hit Oliver. He went mad after Oliver asked him about some human.”

The elderly conevite’s ears went straight up in surprise, her long fingers twitching. “Oh… The Prophet has never raised a hand to anyone before. Though… was the name perhaps Morrigan?”

“It was.”

“I probably shouldn’t speak of it, but… when the Prophet first arrived here, he confessed to the Gods that he had murdered an innocent man, named Morrigan Barnett, and performed the funeral rites for him.”

“I didn’t know he had killed someone… A bit hypocritical of him to try and shame me for all the deaths I caused, when he doesn’t have such clean hands.”

“One man is a bit different from too many to count.”

Ignoring that last bit, his bearer sat down on a bench so he could check on Oliver. He frowned at the bruise that was starting to form, and brushed a finger over it, careful not to scrape Oliver with his claw.

Voice low and soft, his bearer asked, “How are you feeling, dear? Does it hurt?”

“Mhmm…”

After a few minutes, a concerned voice asked them, “Are Oliver and the little one alright?” He looked up to see the three sisters. They all looked worried about them.

His bearer didn’t answer their question, instead responding with one of his own, “Are you the humans looking for your brother?”

“Yes. I’m Lilian, and these are my half-sisters, Lizabeth and Lindsey. We heard our older brother once came here.”

“I’m afraid I’ve only been here for a year. But my boys’ father seems to know what happened to your brother. It evoked quite the explosive reaction from him.”

“His face is bruised… Did you get hit asking your dad our question?”

Oliver nodded at the same time his bearer warned, “I wouldn’t expect any good news.”

The three girls exchanged looks, and Oliver sniffled, hugging his bearer. The end of his bearer’s tail came to wrap around him, and the man cooed at him and his little brother. Sensing that both of his family members were upset, Alban didn’t settle down, whimpering and trying to bury himself against his bearer’s chest.

“Pythrormr!” Oliver heard his father shout, and he could see the man jogging up to them. For the first time since Oliver had come here, his father wasn’t wearing his mask outside. “Pythro!”

Lilian turned, her eyes going wide. “Morrigan? Morrigan, is that you?”

His father skidded to a halt, and his eyes opened as wide as they could with the threads keeping them half closed. Mouth opening slightly, he looked between the three sisters. Oliver had a bad feeling about what was going to happen, so he held on tight to his bearer.

“Ezra, these are the humans that told Oliver to ask you about their brother.”

“Morrigan! Oh, we thought we’d never find you-” Lilian went to hug him, but his father shoved her away. Lizabeth caught her, and Lindsey clung to her arm. “Morrigan, what’s wrong?”

“My name isn’t Morrigan. Don’t touch me.”

“What? Why wouldn’t I recognize my own brother…? Morrigan, stop with your stupid games! You’ve been gone for twenty years, everyone who was after us is finally dead! You’re safe now, you don’t have to pretend you’re not associated with us anymore!” Lilian got to her feet, clenching her fists.

“You have me confused with someone else. My name is Ezra, the Prophet of the conevites.”

“You’re Morrigan Barnett, our older brother, who left us for dead twenty years ago as people raided our home and tried to kill us like they’d killed our sisters! What happened to you? What happened to your eyes?”

“Ezra, what’s going on?” Oliver glanced up at his bearer. His headfeathers were ruffled, his eyes narrowed. “The conevites said that Barnett was the name of a man you murdered. Not that you had a different name.”

“The conevites are right,” his father cried, “I did murder Morrigan Barnett! I murdered him, and I have felt guilt every day for my crime! Morrigan Barnett was an innocent man, and I killed him in cold blood as an offering to the gods that they did not ask for, would never demand!”

“But you look just like him, sound like him! Morrigan, what happened in this town? Did they do that to your eyes?” Lizabeth asked.

“I am not that poor man, I am Ezra.”

The three sisters clearly didn’t believe him. As Oliver looked between them, he had his own doubts about what his father was saying. The women resembled him. Since his father had no pupils, he couldn’t tell for sure, but he wouldn’t be surprised if his father had been born with the strange triangles in his eyes.

The four humans argued back and forth, all getting louder until they were yelling at each other. Oliver was terrified that at any moment, his father would lash out at one of the weapon. Alban was crying, so upset by the sound that their bearer couldn’t manage to soothe him. Oliver couldn’t help his own tears and distressed chirps, trembling against his bearer’s side. The reptilian man kept looking between them and the commotion.

The conevites had all fled inside of their homes, though Oliver could see them peeking through the windows, their wide eyes trained on his father.

“Stop!” his father roared. “I am not Morrigan! I am Ezra! Morrigan Barnett died twenty years ago, when I sacrificed him to the gods. I slaughtered him!”

“Why did those gods take you away from our family when we needed you?”

“I am not him! All of my sisters are dead! You aren’t my family- my only family members are my husband and sons.”

His bearer made a small sound, and Oliver looked up. The man had a worried expression, and was looking down at his swollen belly. “Father?” His bearer handed Alban to him and then held his belly, wincing. He took a few deep breaths, closing his eyes. Oliver chirped up at him, but saw no indication that his bearer had noticed.

“Ah…” He leaned forward, face screwing up in pain. “Ezra… ooh... Ezra!”

His father paused in whatever he was saying to the three sisters and hurried over. “Pythro, what’s wrong?”

“Th-the babiesss…”

“Are they coming?”

“No… ssssomething’sss wrong…”

His father turned and looked toward one of the small houses, signing as he shouted, “Doctor!” A skinny conevite quickly exited the house and came over, ears perked up. He signed something quickly to his father, but Oliver couldn’t see both of his hands, so he couldn’t tell what he’d said.

“Pythro, we’re going to take you to the doctor’s house so he can examine you, alright? We’ll help you up.” They pulled him to his feet. His bearer leaned against his father, and the three of them walked slow across the square.

The three sisters didn’t say anything to them as they passed, and didn’t try to follow them. They watched them go by. When the three disappeared behind the door, the sisters looked at Oliver and Alban. “Hey, kid-”

Before Lilian could say anymore, someone lifted up the both of them. It was the conevite who had pulled him aside when he first came into town with the three women. Without a word, the conevite brought them into their house and then locked the door.

Once secure inside, the conevite set them down on a cot, and closed the window and curtains. They turned around to give the two boys a nervous smile. “There! We’ll wait in here until everything settles down. Now, ah… I’ve never been given the task of caring for children, but I was the closest local adult near two unsupervised children, so your care falls to me until your parents can retrieve you, or you can group together with the other children.”

The two didn’t respond to them, so they sat down next to Oliver and hugged him. Alban turned to the warmth of the conevite’s chest, and Oliver buried his face against them.

“I’m sure your mother will be alright. He’s big and strong, and the Gods wouldn’t let anything happen to your siblings.”

#oblio's fics #original #mpreg #male pregnancy #Ezra 'The Prophet'#General Pythrormr #Oliver (WRiE)#Alban (WRiE)#Lilian Barnett #Lizabeth Barnett #Lindsey Barnett #What's Right in Exchange

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