Chapter 87: Telling the Boys

Ren decided, after considerable deliberation with both Yegard and Reven, that Milo and Finn deserved to know about the pregnancy properly, directly, rather than discovering it through overheard palace gossip or careful, incomplete explanation once his condition became more physically obvious.

He found them in the garden, Milo practicing a basic containment exercise under his own careful supervision while Finn watched with his usual enthusiastic attention, and settled onto the nearby bench, gathering his composure before calling them both over.

“I have some news,” Ren said, once both boys had settled close, something careful and slightly nervous in his own tone despite his growing excitement about the pregnancy itself.

“Good news or bad news,” Milo asked, old wariness immediately surfacing despite months of growing security.

“Good news,” Ren said quickly, wanting to ease that particular worry immediately. “Really good news, actually.” He took a steadying breath. “I’m going to have a baby. Two babies, actually. Twins.”

Finn’s face lit up immediately, delighted comprehension crossing his young features. “Really? Babies?”

“Really,” Ren confirmed, something warm settling into his chest at the boy’s immediate, uncomplicated joy.

Milo’s reaction proved more complicated, something careful and considering behind his initial surprise. “Does this mean things are going to change,” he asked slowly. “For us, I mean.”

Ren felt his chest ache at the old, familiar fear underlying the question, understanding immediately the boy’s unspoken worry about being displaced or forgotten once actual biological children entered the family. “Nothing about how much I love you is going to change,” he said firmly, meeting Milo’s careful gaze directly. “You and Finn are my family, exactly as much as these babies will be. That’s never going to be different, regardless of how many children end up in this household.”

Something eased visibly in Milo’s posture at that reassurance, though careful consideration remained in his expression. “I believe you,” he said finally. “I just… wanted to make sure.”

“Always ask,” Ren said gently. “Whatever worries you, whatever uncertainty you’re carrying, I want you to feel safe bringing it to me directly.”

Finn, meanwhile, had already moved on to considerably more immediate concerns. “Can I help pick names,” he asked, practically bouncing with excitement.

Ren laughed, genuine warmth replacing his earlier careful nervousness. “We’ll definitely consider your suggestions,” he said, something fond entering his voice.

They spent the remainder of the afternoon together, Finn peppering Ren with an endless stream of questions about babies and pregnancy, while Milo offered occasional, more thoughtful observations that suggested genuine, careful consideration of what this significant change might mean for their unconventional family going forward.

The peaceful afternoon shattered entirely three days later.

Ren was midway through a quiet morning routine with Yegard when the first sharp, searing pain tore through his chest without warning, and he gasped, stumbling against the nearest wall as the sensation intensified rapidly, something foreign and violent that had nothing to do with his pregnancy at all.

“Ren,” Yegard said sharply, immediately crossing to support him, concern cutting through his usual composure. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” Ren managed, voice strained with the overwhelming, inexplicable pain. “It’s not me, I don’t think, it’s—”

The realization hit him and Yegard simultaneously, both their expressions shifting to matching, dawning horror.

“Reven,” Yegard said, already reaching for his comm with sharp, urgent speed.

The connection took agonizing seconds to establish, and when Reven’s face finally appeared on the display, it carried the same strained, pained expression Ren currently wore, something fierce and controlled despite the obvious agony underlying it.

“I’m under attack,” Reven reported through gritted teeth, the sound of combat clearly audible behind his urgent voice. “Routine Council business, ambushed en route, I’m handling it, but—”

He cut off sharply, another wave of pain visibly crashing through him, and Ren felt the echo of it himself, sympathetic agony tearing through his own chest in perfect, horrifying synchronization.

“The bond,” Ren gasped, understanding crashing through his pain. “We’re feeling what he’s feeling.”

“I need backup,” Reven managed, voice tight with controlled urgency despite his obvious injury. “Current coordinates transmitting now. Multiple hostiles, considerably better equipped than standard opportunistic threats.”

Yegard was already moving, fierce determination overriding his own echoed pain. “I’m coming,” he said immediately. “Ren, stay here, stay safe.”

“I can’t just sit here feeling this and do nothing,” Ren protested, even as another wave of shared pain made him stagger.

“You’re pregnant with our children, and currently experiencing debilitating sympathetic pain,” Yegard said firmly, though something gentle underlined his urgent tone. “Please, Ren. Let me handle this. Trust me to bring him home safely.”

Ren felt old fear and fierce protective instinct warring against his own physical limitation, finally nodding despite every protective impulse screaming at him to act directly. “Be careful,” he said, voice still tight with shared pain. “Both of you, please.”

Yegard pressed a quick, fierce kiss to his forehead before departing, already coordinating additional security forces as he moved, and Ren sank onto the nearest seating, one hand pressed against his stomach, the other against his own aching chest, old fear and the strange, unprecedented bond’s violent intrusion tangling together in overwhelming, frightening waves.

Alouis found him moments later, drawn by the commotion, and immediately crossed to his side with sharp, focused concern. “What’s happening,” she demanded.

“Reven’s under attack,” Ren managed, still fighting through the shared pain radiating from wherever Reven currently fought for his life. “The bond, I can feel everything he’s feeling.”

Alouis’s expression hardened with fierce, immediate focus. “Then we need to get you somewhere secure, properly monitored, while this plays out,” she said, already moving to support him. “Vance needs to see this directly. If the bond is genuinely transmitting physical pain this severely, we need to understand exactly what risk that poses to you and the babies.”

Ren allowed himself to be guided toward the medical wing, old fear for Reven’s safety tangling with fresh worry about his own, currently vulnerable condition, and felt, with each wave of shared, violent pain, old resolve settling alongside his fear.

Whatever new enemy had apparently decided this was the appropriate moment to strike, whatever danger Reven currently faced, Ren found himself desperately hoping, with everything he possessed, that Yegard would reach him in time, before the bond’s violent, unprecedented connection revealed considerably worse consequences than simple, shared physical agony.