Chapter Thirty-Nine

In the four years they'd been married, Harry could not recall having a fight like this with his wife. Ruth was, without exception, an intelligent and rational person. She could see all the sides of an argument. She might have a differing opinion, but she always knew where Harry was coming from. It had been that way at work from the start. It was like that at home, too. But this was practically unhinged. He'd never seen her like this before. And he did not care for it a single bit.

"God dammit, Ruth! Would you just listen to me!?" he shouted, slamming his fist on the arm of his chair as he stood up to pace angrily.

She sat there in her own chair, her legs curled up to her chest. She looked so young and fragile like that. But her eyes were full of fire and her fists were clenched in a way that let him know that she was anything but delicate right now. If he pushed her any further, she might leap up and tackle him to the ground with a feral screech.

Ruth did not say anything as Harry tried to calm himself down. He was getting himself far too worked up, he knew. But why couldn't she understand what she was asking? Why was she being so insistent? This was not a decision to take lightly.

He sat down on the edge of the table across from where she was sitting. With a heavy sigh, he rested his elbows on his knees and put his head in his hands. His hair was thinning more and more every day, it seemed. Yet another reason for this whole situation to give him pause.

"I just want to discuss this, Ruth," he said quietly.

"There is nothing to discuss, Harry," she answered coldly.

Harry looked over to her with slight shock. She was being…well, she was being heartless. That was not something he'd ever expected from her before. It took everything in him to keep from flying into a rage once again. But they'd been at this for hours. Days. This had to be the end of it. "Explain," he directed. It had worked in Foreign Intelligence, when Ruth got a bee in her bonnet that he did not quite agree with. She would be insistent and he would force her to explain herself, to convince him to her side, to prove her point.

"We have to conceive a child," Ruth said. "My father is king. I'll be queen after him. He's not well, Harry, you know he won't last long. I am the crown princess of this country. I need to produce an heir. Edmund and Juliet failed to do that. They were married for seven years before he became king, and they wasted that time. We cannot do that. We have to have a child."

He did his best to be patient, but she'd said all this before. This was not anything he did not already know. "I understand that. I know we have to have a child to be your successor. But I still fail to see why you are so insistent that it has to be right now."

Ruth regarded him curiously. "When do you think we should start trying for children, Harry?" she asked. "I mean, we've been together all this time and I've never even had an inkling that I might be pregnant. We haven't bothered with any sort of preventative measures since we started living together when we were engaged. Neither of us is getting any younger. I don't know why you think we have any other choice but to focus our efforts now."

At least she was calmer now. She was saying useful things. Harry felt a bit of a fool. More than a bit. In all likelihood, it was his fault they hadn't had children already. After all, he was over forty. Ruth was still plenty young. "Well, one of us is a bit over the hill for children," he grumbled.

"Harry, I'll be thirty in just a few months. You realize my mother had me when she was twenty-one? And Jane was what, twenty-four when she had Catherine? Twenty-six when she had Graham? I'm well beyond anyone thinking I'd be a young mother. And that's the thing too, Harry. Can you imagine what would happen if my father died while I was pregnant? Never mind the trauma that might cause to me and an unborn baby, but how am I supposed to go through childbirth and planning a coronation at the same time? Right now, Dad is still…well, he's not well, but he's alright. How much longer do you think that will last? I mean honestly, Harry, I am scared to death of knowing my dad is going to die sooner rather than later, but that's the reality of it. He's got cancer and the most stressful job in the world and more likely than not, he is going to die sooner rather than later. I know we need to produce and heir, but I just…" Tears were forming in her eyes and her voice cracked.

"You just what, darling?" Harry asked softly.

"I just want to be a mother before I have to be a queen. I won't be able to do much parenting with a crown, Harry. And it's not fair. It's just not fair! It's not fair that we can't have the life we wanted, that we won't get to take our time with any of this. I don't even know if…" She trailed off, tears streaming down her face.

Harry could not take it after that. He could not bear to see her so distraught, so full of the pressures of this life. These were not things she should have ever had to worry about. She was right, it wasn't fair. But it was the reality of their situation, and they'd both have to cope with it as best they could.

He pulled her up out of the chair and sat in her place, folding her up in his lap so he could hold her properly. Ruth buried her face in his neck, shaking with her sobs.

"Shh, it's alright, Ruth," he soothed. Of course, it might not be alright. They both knew that. Neither was naïve enough to be optimistic anymore. Not after all that had happened in the last three years.

Eventually Ruth stopped crying and got her breathing back under control. "I'm sorry," she murmured hoarsely.

"Nothing to be sorry for," he told her, rubbing her back affectionately.

"Yes there is. It's my fault that we had to move here, that I'll have to be queen, that we're forced to have children."

Well, that was true. But it didn't mean she needed to be sorry for it. Harry had decided a long time a got that a whole manner of unpleasantries would be bearable if he could be with her. And he was. And he would be till the day he died. Even if it wasn't exactly how they thought it would be. "You know," he realized, "I didn't even know you…" Harry stopped himself, realizing that might not be the best thing to say.

"Didn't know what?" she asked, prompting him to continue.

He hesitated, trying to think of another way out. There wasn't one. "I didn't even know you wanted children," he confessed. But he tried to soften the statement. "We never talked about it. Having children of our own. We just…well, we were more concerned with the children I've already got. I didn't really think I'd have any more than Catherine and Graham, honestly."

Ruth was quiet for a moment, chewing her lips. Harry was starting to panic, hoping beyond hope he did not upset her any further with that statement. "You're right," she finally said. "I didn't think of it. I was young when we first started up together. And I was more concerned with Catherine and Graham than with having any of my own. They're not mine, I know, but I love them just as much. And I think…if I had the choice…I might be happier with just them. Just the four of us."

"But you don't have a choice," Harry synthesized.

She sighed and snuggled against him. "No," she agreed. "I don't have a choice."

Harry pressed a kiss to her mussed hair. "Can I tell you something though?" he whispered.

"Of course," she answered.

He smiled and said, "You are going to be a wonderful mother. You're going to be so beautiful when you're pregnant. And we'll have a marvelous time getting you pregnant. And our son or daughter is going to be the most brilliant, gorgeous, incredible little thing."

Ruth's face broke into a happy grin, too, warming Harry's heart. "You think?"

"Not a single doubt in my mind," he assured her.

She tilted her head up to kiss him. And then they started trying to get Ruth pregnant.