Crux groans as he feels the spawn inside him shift distinctly downwards, a growing pressure building up lower in his hips. He fights the urge to try and accommodate it by spreading his knees, instead choosing to cross his legs because, oh god, if this is it, he’s not ready—
Corvus is standing next to his general, the two looking over the war table with a grim concentration, discussing something he can’t quite make out over the sounds of fighting happening on the floors above them.
He’s not ready, and this is a terrible fucking time.
So Crux thinks, not now, and bits down on his lower lip. The waves of pressure that he had been ignoring throughout the day had started in the early hours of the morning, and they’ve turned into unrelenting bands of pain that are steadily getting closer and closer together. Part of Crux knows that he can’t delay the inevitable, but the optimist in him is hoping that wishful thinking might win out.
Crux presses a hand to the tight, heavy swell of his stomach and hisses as another wave of pain pulses through his body. The strain on Crux’s back is almost unbearable, and he wonders if walking might be a better alternative to sitting.
He goes to stand, determined not to give Corvus a reason to be distracted because there is a war going on, and that’s something that demands focus, but as he reaches the door that will lead to the connecting library, he feels a contraction that’s stronger than the previous ones pull and take hold of him. Crux gasps in pain, unable to hold back, and his knees buckle under the intensity of it.
Crux doesn’t even realize that Corvus is at his side, holding him up in his arms, until the pain subsides. He tastes copper and realizes, a little distantly, that he’s managed to bite his lip hard enough to draw blood.
Corvus runs a finger gently across Crux’s mouth, wiping the blood away, making a distressed sound at the sight.
‘You should have said something,’ says Corvus, frowning. ‘I’m supposed to take care of you.’ Crux shakes his head, too strung out to say anything, instead leaning forward and resting his forehead against Corvus’ shoulder.