The chamber was filled with the sounds of their shared embarrassment, the gentle lapping of water, the soft murmurs of encouragement from their mothers and the low chuckles of the others who found the scene both amusing and heartwarming. It was a moment of unexpected tenderness, a fragile bridge between the horrors of their past and the uncertain future that lay ahead. For now, in the safety of the fissure, they allowed themselves to be cared for, to be vulnerable, and to find strength in the bonds that held them together.

Freshly bathed, dried with rough towels that felt like sandpaper on their sensitive skin, and dressed in clean, soft tunics provided by Nyxarion's supplies, their embarrassment reached a cosmic, unprecedented level. They were led back to the main chamber and seated side by side on a low bench like two schoolboys. Nyxara and Statera then proceeded to take charge of feeding them, using soft cloths to support their injured arms while wielding spoons with devastating maternal precision.

Nyxara's voice took on a melodramatic lilt as she held up a spoonful of porridge, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Open wide, baby prince! Here comes the star," she cooed, her tone exaggeratedly gentle as she leaned closer to Kuro.

Kuro's face was a mask of mortification, his storm grey eyes darting around the chamber as if seeking an escape route. He hissed through gritted teeth, whispering furiously, "Mother, I am begging you. Not the spoon noises. Not in front of everyone. Please, I beg you. You've won. I'm truly embarrassed. I'm at your beck and call. Please."

Nyxara's response was a picture of mock innocence, her voice saccharine sweet. "But how else will the nourishment reach your royal belly? It needs encouragement! Now, say 'ah' for Mother." She brandished the spoon playfully, as if it were a royal sceptre.

Kuro's glare could have frozen fire. "I'd rather starve," he muttered, his voice low and laced with deliberate defiance.

Nyxara sighed dramatically, her free hand fluttering to her chest. "And after I went to all the trouble of making Corvin get the special herbs for your special, whiny arm. Very well. I suppose I'll just have to tell everyone about your secret…"

Kuro's face paled at the threat, his eyes widening in panic. "Please no anything but that," he whispered, his voice cracking with desperation.

Nyxara's expression softened marginally, though the triumph in her eyes was unmistakable. "Then open wide."

With a defeated huff, Kuro's shoulders slumped. His eyes widened resignedly. "…Fine Ah..." He opened his mouth, accepting the spoon with a look of utter defeat.

Nyxara's smile was a blend of triumph and affection as she fed him. "Was that so hard? Good boy," she praised, her voice laced with playful approval.

Kuro's muttered reply was muffled around the porridge. "No, it wasn't, Mother," he said, his voice barely audible but clear enough to convey his utter resignation.

Across the chamber, Shiro was leaning close to Statera, his amber eyes wide with a mix of embarrassment and urgency. "They're all staring," he whispered, his voice low but tinged with panic. "Kuro looks like he's going to spontaneously combust. Can we please be done?"

Statera didn't look up from her own bowl of porridge, her tone steady and unyielding. "We are done when the bowl is empty. You need your strength. For me. Your dear, worried mother who stayed up all night fretting over you." Her voice carried a note of gentle teasing, but her resolve was clear.

Shiro snorted, the sound half hearted and laced with disbelief. "You were snoring by the time I finished my first sob," he retorted, his voice softening as he recalled the night's events.

Statera gasped, her hand flying to her chest in mock outrage. "A lie! A vicious slander from my own child! I was fretting in my sleep! It's very taxing. Now, another bite. For my nerves." Her eyes twinkled with amusement as she held out the spoon, waiting expectantly.

The chamber, which had been watching the entire spectacle with rapt attention, finally erupted in laughter. Ryota chuckled, shaking his head. "By the stars, I've seen raw recruits with more composure! Looks like we need to hire a nursemaid for our infant soldiers!" Lucifera, sipping her tea, deadpanned, "I'll volunteer, if only to ensure they're finally quiet for five minutes. I can be very… persuasive." Even Juro cracked a rare, broad smile, muttering to Haruto, "Necessary embarrassments. Builds character. And provides excellent entertainment."

Kuro and Shiro sat through it, side by side, two pillars of crimson misery, silently chewing their porridge and praying to any god that might be listening for the fissure to cave in and save them from this relentless, loving torment.

As the morning stretched on, the deep, throbbing pain from the potent salve became a constant, unwelcome companion. Kuro's arm ached with a deep, persistent intensity that made him wince with any slight movement. Shiro's wrists burned, every twitch a reminder of the nerve damage being aggressively treated.

Kuro made a show of trying to stand, using his good arm to push himself up. "I'm going to... check the perimeter. Get some air that doesn't smell like porridge and pity," he announced, his voice steady despite the wince that flickered across his face. Nyxara didn't even look up from her tea. "Sit. Down," she commanded, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Kuro rolled his eyes but tried to keep his defiance intact. "I feel fine. The pain is barely there. It's just a dull…" He accidentally brushed his bandaged arm against the wall, and the sharp, involuntary hiss that escaped him betrayed his words. His face paled, and he slumped back onto the bench with a defeated grunt.

Nyxara took a slow, deliberate sip of her tea, her gaze finally lifting to meet his. "A dull, earth shattering throb, was it? I believe you. It sounded very 'barely'. Sit. Down. Now. Or I will have Lucifera find a sling and actually swaddle you to this bench." The threat was delivered with such calm authority that Kuro had no choice but to comply.

"This is unjust," he muttered, letting his head thud back against the stone wall. "I'm a strategic asset, not a... a nursling."

Nyxara's eyebrow arched. "You are an asset who will be useless if that corruption flares up because you were too proud to sit still for a few hours. So, you will sit. Am I understood? Yes?"

Kuro groaned but finally relented. "...Yes, Mother."

The focus shifted to Shiro, who had been watching the exchange with a mix of sympathy and amusement. Seeing Kuro's failed attempt, he tried a more subtle approach. Spotting a waterskin just a foot away on the floor, he leaned forward, his bandaged hand twitching toward it. "I can get that..." he whispered, hoping Statera was distracted. A white hot spike of pain lanced up his forearm the moment he tensed the muscles, forcing a choked gasp from his lips. He jerked his hand back, cradling it against his chest, his eyes watering.

Statera didn't even look up from her herbs, her voice sharp with teasing. "And what did we just learn about 'heroic' independent action?" She kept her focus on organizing her supplies, her tone light but firm.

Shiro's cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "It was just a waterskin. Not a sword," he grumbled through gritted teeth.

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Statera finally turned to face him, her expression a mix of playful mockery and genuine concern. "Ah, but in your current state, that waterskin might as well be a sword. Your body is speaking to you, Shiro. It's screaming, in fact. The only words in its vocabulary right now are 'stop' and 'help'. You would be wise to listen." She finished her task and turned, picking up the waterskin and handing it to him.

Shiro took it reluctantly, his cheeks still flushed. "I hate this. I feel useless. I should be training, or planning, not... not sitting here like a broken tool."

Statera's expression softened, but her teasing didn't disappear entirely. She sat beside him, her voice gentle yet firm. "A tool that is being sharpened must be held still, my love. A bowstring that is being re strung cannot be fired. This is not uselessness. This is preparation. It is perhaps the most important work you can do for yourself right now. Be still. Let yourself be sharpened. Let yourself be healed. Can you do that for your mother?"

Shiro looked at his bandaged wrists, then at her face. The concern there didn't feel suffocating, it felt strengthening. The fight drained out of him, replaced by a weary acceptance. He let out a long, slow breath. "Yes, Mother."

Kuro watched the exchange, his own stubbornness mirroring Shiro's. "He has a point. Sitting here is a waste of time we don't have," he muttered, though his scowl suggested he wasn't entirely convinced.

Nyxara raised an eyebrow at him. "Would you like to compare strategic insights on the subject of wasted time, my son? Or shall we simply review the transcript of this morning's activities? I believe it began with you s..."

Kuro interrupted sharply then looked away, scowling at the opposite wall. "No. That won't be necessary."

Nyxara's tone took on a teasing edge. "I didn't think so. So, we sit. We heal. We plan. In silence. Yes?"

Kuro muttered to the wall, his tone resigned. "Yes, Mother."

Haruto Watching the entire exchange, his stern face unreadable. He finally steps forward, his voice cutting through the moment. "The infants are bathed and fed ? Good. Phase 3. The Black Keep. Our next move is simple: we finalize the insertion team. Everything else is secondary. We'll discuss after they've napped." He shoots a look at Kuro and Shiro, a rare hint of a smirk on his face.

A heavy, sulking silence had fallen over the bench where Kuro and Shiro sat, a united front of miserable, pained resignation. Haruto's declaration about napping had been the final, ignoble straw. It was Shiro who finally broke, his voice a low, strained whisper meant only for his brother, though it carried in the quiet chamber.

"Napped," he repeated, the word tasting like ash. "He said 'napped.' We're to be bathed, fed, and then put down for a nap like tired toddlers."

Kuro didn't turn his head, his gaze still fixed on the opposite wall as if it held the secrets to his liberation. "It's a tactical redeployment of assets," he muttered, the clinical phrasing a thin shield for his humiliation. "A period of forced convalescence to maximize future operational efficiency."

"It's a nap, Kuro."

"Don't say the word," Kuro hissed, a flicker of genuine agony in his stormy eyes.

From where they stood, having just finished a quiet, shared cup of tea, Nyxara and Statera observed their sons despair. A look passed between them, a silent conversation of shared amusement and deep, unshakeable love.

"They are taking it so very hard," Statera remarked, her voice a gentle, carrying whisper. "One would think we'd suggested dunking them in the Polaris falls."

Nyxara's multi hued eyes sparkled. "A thought for next time. But for now, I believe their morale requires a… coordinated maternal intervention. Let's switch tactics."

A slow, knowing smile touched Statera's lips. "An excellent strategy, Your Majesty."

They moved in unison, but crossed paths. Statera glided to Kuro's side, while Nyxara settled before a bewildered Shiro.

Statera placed a gentle hand on Kuro's good shoulder. He flinched, looking up at her with startled, stormy eyes. "Aunty Statera?"

"Does my other son require a story to settle down?" Statera asked, her voice warm and teasing, but with an underlying sincerity that made his defences waver. "I know a lovely one about a very stubborn little star who refused to set, and thus missed the entire dawn."

Kuro's cheeks flushed a faint pink. He was so used to Nyxara's melodramatic teasing; Statera's calmer, more clinical mockery was somehow more unnerving. "That will not be necessary," he managed, his voice slightly hoarse. "I am… processing the logistical constraints."

"He's sulking," Shiro supplied unhelpfully from his side of the bench, before his own torment began.

"Oh, I don't know," Nyxara chimed in, now standing over Shiro. She leaned down, her voice a conspiratorial, silken murmur. "And you, my honorary little rain baby? Shall I have Lucifera fetch you a pacifier from the Nyxarion supplies? I'm sure we have one lying around, carved from obsidian and infused with calming starlight. It would suit your current… mood."

Shiro's amber eyes went wide with a fresh, unique horror. Being teased by Nyxara was a different kind of battlefield. "Aunty Nyx! No! I'm…I'm fine! I don't need… that."

"Are you sure?" Nyxara pressed, her tone dripping with faux concern. "You look like you might start making little snuffling sounds at any moment. It's a precursor to the rain, I'm told."

Meanwhile, Statera continued her work on Kuro. "The more you fight the medicine, the longer you'll need it," she said, her tone pragmatic, as if stating a simple fact of physics. "It's a simple equation. Even a 'baby' prince should be able to understand it. Your resistance is only prolonging the indignity."

Kuro looked from Statera's steady gaze to Nyxara's playful one and back, his expression that of a cornered strategist who had not anticipated this particular pincer movement. "You're… ganging up on us."

"We're sharing the burden of motherhood," Nyxara corrected smoothly from Shiro's side, not even looking at Kuro. "It's a tactical necessity when dealing with two particularly stubborn, albeit cute, enemy combatants."

"I am not cute," Kuro and Shiro said in near unison, then glared at each other for the synchronization.

"You are when you pout," Statera said to Kuro, reaching out to gently adjust the collar of his tunic with a maternal fussiness that made him freeze in place. "And you," Nyxara said, tapping Shiro gently on the nose, making him blink, "get that same adorable wrinkle right here when you're trying to be brave and failing miserably."

"I'm not a rain baby," Shiro mumbled, his protest weak.

"And I am not a baby prince," Kuro grumbled, his own defiance sounding hollow.

"You are whatever we say you are," Nyxara declared, her tone leaving no room for argument. She placed a hand on Shiro's head, her touch surprisingly gentle. "And you are both going to stop complaining and close your eyes. The world will not end if the mighty Twin Stars take a nap. In fact," Statera added, her hand still resting on Kuro's shoulder, "the world will be better for it, because you will be stronger for the fight to come. So, for us? For your mothers who would very much like to see you both whole and healthy? Rest."

"I'm not tired," Kuro gritted out, his voice a low, stubborn rasp as he forced his eyelids open, glaring at the opposite wall.

"Neither am I," Shiro echoed, though his words were slurred, his head dipping forward before he jerked it back up. "Just… resting my eyes. Strategic… recalibration."

Nyxara, seated beside Shiro, gently tightened her arm around his shoulders. "Of course you are, my dear," she soothed, her voice a soft melody. "But even the most brilliant strategists must occasionally… surrender to the inevitable."

Shiro tried to shrug her off, the motion weak and uncoordinated. "Don't… need to surrender…" he muttered, but he was leaning into her side, his body betraying his words.

Across from them, Statera observed Kuro's losing battle. His good arm was trembling with the effort of keeping himself upright. "Kuro," she said, her tone calm and factual. "Your body is overriding your pride. The statistical probability of you remaining conscious is approaching zero."

"The statistics… are wrong…" he mumbled, his head lolling to the side. He blinked slowly, his stormy eyes clouded with exhaustion.

"Just… close your eyes for a moment, princeling," Shiro slurred, already halfway there himself. "Prove you can… do it…"

"Don't tell me… what to do…rat" Kuro shot back, but the fire was gone, replaced by a weary sigh. His shoulders slumped in defeat. "Fine… A moment… Just to… prove a point…"

That was all the invitation Statera needed. With a quiet, firm hand, she guided his head down to rest in the crevice of her shoulder. He offered one last, token resistance. "This is… highly… unnecessary…" The protest was lost in the fabric of her robe as his body went limp, a deep, even breath escaping him.

Seeing his brother's surrender seemed to break the last of Shiro's resolve. "Traitor…" he whispered, his own head finally dropping against Nyxara's shoulder.

"Shhh, now," Nyxara murmured, her fingers gently carding through his hair. "The battle is over. You've both fought admirably."

There was no more argument. The chamber fell into a profound silence, punctuated only by the soft, synchronized rhythm of their breathing. Nyxara looked across at Statera, her multi hued eyes glistening not with mischief, but with a deep, glowing pride. Statera met her gaze, a small, serene smile touching her lips as her hand came to rest protectively on Kuro's back. They had fought a war of attrition against stubbornness and pain, and love had won.

Haruto watched the scene, his wintery gaze taking in the two sleeping warriors cradled like infants. He gave a slow, single nod.

"Good," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that disturbed nothing. "Let them rest. The moment they wake, we move to Phase 3."

And for now, in the quiet heart of the fissure, there was only peace.

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