Fallen General's Omega (BL)-Chapter 258: Niall and Thieran

Thorne POV

Noelle blinks up at me, his green eyes hazy with exhaustion, but the second he realizes what I’m holding, his lips part slightly. His gaze moves from my face to the tiny bundles wrapped securely in soft cloth, their small chests rising and falling with each tiny breath.

I adjust my grip slightly, cradling both of them in my arms as I settle onto the bed beside him. The flickering candlelight makes the moment feel even more intimate, casting soft shadows on the walls, wrapping us in a cocoon of warmth and silence.

Noelle swallows hard, his fingers trembling as he reaches out, as if afraid he might break them.

I smile and nudge his hand toward the older twin—the one with dark wisps of black hair, a mirror of his father.

"Here," I murmur, carefully shifting the small bundle so Noelle can hold him properly.

The second his arms encircle our son, something changes in his expression. His lips tremble, his breathing hitches, and his entire being melts into something softer, something infinite.

"He’s so small," Noelle breathes out, his voice barely above a whisper. His fingers trace over the baby’s cheek, then brush against his tiny curled fingers.

"So warm."

I nod, my throat feeling too tight for words.

The other twin—our younger boy—wiggles slightly in my hold. His fine blonde hair catches the dim light, a perfect mix of our lineage, his sleeping face unbothered by the world around him. I brush a thumb over his cheek, feeling the delicate softness of his skin, marveling at how something so small can feel so... monumental.

"How are you feeling?" I finally ask, watching Noelle intently.

He sighs deeply, shifting slightly against the pillows.

"Like I was hit by a racing carriage."

I can’t help it—I chuckle.

I lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead before moving lower, brushing my lips over his in the gentlest of kisses.

"I’m proud of you," I whisper.

He closes his eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply. When he opens them again, there’s something soft and warm there, something I know is only reserved for me.

He closes his eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply. When he opens them again, there’s something soft and warm there, something I know is only reserved for me.

A tiny noise from the older twin makes us both turn our attention to the babies.

Noelle smiles, shifting his hand slightly so the tiny fingers of our son curl around his pinky. The sight is so fragile, so delicate, that I swear something in my chest aches.

For a long moment, neither of us says anything.

We just... exist.

Then I sigh and reach over to the bedside table, pulling out an old leather journal. The edges are worn, the pages slightly frayed from use.

Noelle raises an eyebrow.

"Really?" he asks, amusement flickering through his tired expression.

I smirk. "Of course. We need to decide on their names, don’t we?"

He rolls his eyes but doesn’t protest.

And so we begin.

The first few names are absolutely ridiculous.

"Tom?" Noelle says, looking at me like I’ve lost my mind.

"What’s wrong with Tom?" I argue.

"It’s so... normal."

"Fine," I mutter, crossing it out.

He flips through a few pages and grins.

"How about... Banana?"

I freeze.

I look at him.

He looks back at me.

"Banana?" I repeat, flatly.

He nods, barely holding back a laugh.

I grab the pen and dramatically cross it out. "Absolutely not."

"Okay, okay, what about... Cinnamon?"

I let out a long, suffering sigh.

He is doing this on purpose.

"Do you want our child to be bullied?"

"With you as the father, is that even possible?" He counters, giving me a knowing look. Guilty.

He rolls his eyes, but his lips twitch in amusement.

"Regardless," I continue, "we need something strong. Something that suits them."

I scan the page, tapping my fingers against the parchment.

"What about Nathaniel?" I suggest.

Noelle tilts his head, considering it for a moment before shaking his head. "Hmmnn... No."

I try again. "Joseph?"

Noelle merely gives me the stink eye.

I grin. "Alright, how about Matt?"

"Absolutely not."

"Dule?"

"What even is that?"

"Monmot?"

"Thorne."

"Jack?"

"No."

"Jean?"

Noelle gives me a look.

"Johnson?"

"I swear to Elaris’, Thorne—"

"Chelle?"

"Thorne, be serious," he groans, rubbing his temple.

I laugh quietly. "Alright, alright. Maybe I got a little carried away there."

"A little?" he deadpans.

I take a deep breath and glance back at the babies, searching for something that fits. The dark-haired one shifts slightly in his sleep, his tiny fingers curling around the fabric of the blanket.

"Niall," I say suddenly.

Noelle pauses. "Hmm... no—wait." He sits up a little straighter. "I like it."

He tests it out, repeating it under his breath.

"Niall. Niall. Niall." He rolls the name around in his mouth, as if feeling its weight.

I try it again, looking down at our firstborn. "Niall."

We share a glance.

A silent agreement.

"I like it," Noelle says with finality.

I nod, writing the name down carefully.

One done.

Now for the other.

Noelle snatches the book from me and starts flipping through another list of names. He skims them quickly, his lips pressing into a thin line. None of them seem to fit.

Then—

"Thieran," he murmurs.

I blink.

He looks at me.

"I like it," I say without hesitation.

"Me too."

We both glance down at the second twin, the little blonde one, who suddenly scrunches his tiny nose, as if already unimpressed with us.

Noelle chuckles softly. "Thieran it is, then."

I jot the name down beside his brother’s.

Niall and Thieran.

I set the journal aside, wrapping an arm around Noelle as he watches the twins with an unreadable expression.

"Hey, little guys," he whispers, voice impossibly soft. "Welcome to the world."

Something in my chest tightens painfully.

I pull Noelle close, pressing a kiss against his temple, feeling the weight of everything settle deep in my bones.