Words: 2911

So, this is the last real chapter. Next is the epilogue. This chapter has feelings!

"I have a doctor appointment today," Arthur mentioned offhandedly.

"What?" Alfred asked, startled. "Are you sick?"

"No," he said, slightly annoyed. "Are you coming with me or not?"

"Am I supposed to?"

"It's on your schedule."

Alfred pulled out his agenda, checking the date. Artie- Dctr appt. "Oh. Why do you have a doctor's appointment?"

"It's to find out if the mating was successful," Arthur said, not meeting Alfred's eye. Alfred stared at him blankly.

"It's to see if I'm pregnant, idiot," he snapped.

"O-Oh!" Alfred exclaimed, blushing slightly. He'd forgotten about that part of mating. "Oh, right, that's- Is that today?"

"Yes," Arthur said sullenly. "It's been two weeks since my heat ended, so…"

"Right. Yeah. Uh, okay."

"Are you coming to the doctor's with me or not?" Arthur asked exasperatedly.

"What? Yeah! Of course!" Alfred said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. In a way, it kind of was. The King was supposed to be the first to know (after the doctor) if the Queen was pregnant.

"Fine," Arthur said, not sounding particularly pleased with the answer.

Alfred's leg bounced nervously as he waited with Arthur for the doctor to show up. Arthur had been extremely quiet all day, and cold in a way that Alfred hadn't seen in months. It was unnerving and a bit terrifying.

The worst part was, Alfred wasn't sure what to say. He didn't even know what Arthur was hoping for with this. Traditionally, of course, the Queen would want to be pregnant and the King would want an heir. But Alfred had never really thought about kids before. Not seriously, anyway. It went back to his ideal plan: fall in love, get married, have a family. That was the most thought he'd ever put into it. He figured it was okay, then, to start a family now that he had the first two items checked off of his list. But Alfred had no idea how to raise a kid, and the thought of it kind of terrified him.

And then there was Arthur. Did Arthur want a kid? Was he hoping he was pregnant? Alfred was too nervous to ask, Arthur's unapproachable vibes even scaring him for once. Did Arthur think Alfred wanted a kid? Did Alfred want a kid? Alfred remembered the Arthur's near execution, the Queens that died for not getting pregnant. Was Arthur worried about that? He knew Alfred wasn't like that, right?

"Good afternoon, Your Majesties, sorry I'm late," Doctor Afonso said, flustered. "I was getting the machines set up, and there was- oh, never mind. Are you ready, Arthur?"

"Yes," Arthur said calmly, standing up to follow the doctor.

Alfred was left to wait.

Arthur felt like he was going to be sick.

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty," Afonso said tiredly.

"What?" Arthur asked, shocked.

"He's not pregnant? Again!?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Is he infertile?"

"I'm not sure. I-"

"It's been two years!" Henry turned on Arthur accusingly. "How are you not pregnant?"

"I don't know! I thought-"

"I don't care what you thought! You-" In an instant, Henry's anger seemed to vanish, replaced by cold hatred. It was a thousand times more terrifying than his wrath. "Fine," he said.

"…King Henry?" Arthur asked nervously.

"I have business to attend to," Henry said, walking away without another word. Arthur was left with a horrible sinking feeling in his chest.

The next day, the Queen was arrested for treason and sentenced to death.

Alfred wasn't Henry. Arthur knew that. But that didn't make the memories any less horrifying or the feat any less real. He lay down on the examination table, letting his mind wander. Afonso didn't bother trying to start a conversation. He knew Arthur wasn't in the mood.

Arthur felt he was in a lose-lose situation. He didn't want to be pregnant, but he couldn't afford to not be. It wasn't that Arthur didn't want kids; he actually loved kids, much to his chagrin. It was a horribly cliché omega trait, but it was part of Arthur's personality. What he did not love was the idea of being pregnant. Especially now, when he was actually allowed to do things as Queen. He did not want to deal with the pain and difficulties of pregnancy and he'd never planned to become pregnant before becoming Queen.

Now, it was his duty. One of his primary responsibilities as Queen was to bear the King an heir. It didn't matter that the child was in no way guaranteed to be next in line for the throne; it was tradition. And in any case, Arthur was sick of failing at this. He was finally in a loving relationship. There was not reason for him not to be pregnant, right?

"Alright, that's it," Afonso said, breaking Arthur out of his reverie. "I should have the results in a few minutes." Arthur stood to go back to the waiting room when Afonso interrupted. "Arthur? I… have this new test in. Something that they've been developing over in Hearts, and it seems to be accurate…"

"What is it?" Arthur asked curtly. Afonso took a deep breath.

"It's a fertility test." Arthur stared at him. "The science is sound; it works. You don't have to take it, but if you want to… You can know for sure," he said carefully.

Arthur continued to stare at him for a long moment, thinking. Did he want to know? Not if he was infertile. But what if he was? What if he was stuck doing this for the rest of his life, trying to become pregnant only to be let down every time? He could know for sure. Did he want to?

Finally, he nodded. He was going to take a fertility test.

Alfred and Arthur waited in tense silence. For Alfred, it was even worse than waiting alone. He still had no idea what to say, and Arthur only seemed to be in a worse mood since he came out of the doctor's office. It was the longest fifteen minute wait of their lives.

"I have the results," Afonso said, voice carefully neutral. Then he looked down. "I'm sorry. Arthur's not pregnant."

Sorry. So Arthur wanted to be pregnant? Alfred thought, rubbing Arthur's back in what he hopes was a conciliatory manner. Arthur only tensed more.

Before Alfred could say anything, Arthur said, "And the fertility test?" The doctor seemed surprised by Arthur's question.

"Er-" he paused, turning to address the King. "Arthur also took a fertility test, to see about his ability to become pregnant in the future. It-" he turned back to Arthur nervously. "It wasn't… I'm sorry, Arthur. You're infertile."

Arthur stood up abruptly. "What?" he demanded, voice cracking.

"I'm sorry," Afonso repeated. "It will be very difficult for you to have children, if it's possible at all."

Alfred stood as well, watching Arthur warily. The Queen seemed shocked, eyes unfocused. Alfred was afraid of startling him.

"Arthur," he began, but that was all it took. Arthur spun on his heel and was running down the hall before Alfred even had time to blink. "Arthur!?" he called, shocked, before starting after him.

"Wait," Afonso said, grabbing the King's arm. It was entirely inappropriate, but he didn't know what else to do. "Your Majesty-"

"Why's he freaking out!?" Alfred demanded, rounding on the doctor. Out of all of Arthur's possible reactions, he hadn't expected this. "Is this about the last King? He knows I'm not like that!"

"I know," the doctor said in a placating manner. "But King Alfred, you have to understand, infertile omegas aren't chosen as Queen," he said more urgently.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know what happened," Afonso said. "It could be stress, or the way he was treated before, but something damaged Arthur's reproductive organs to make him unable to reproduce. No Queen has been thought to be infertile and stayed Queen."

"What about the Queens before Arthur? The ones that were executed?"

"Henry suspected they were infertile, but it always seemed more likely that it was the King himself who couldn't bear heirs." Afonso sighed. "The Queens that are chosen are meant to be reproductively healthy. Even if he didn't want children, Arthur is going to take this very hard."

"Then I need to go talk to him!" Alfred exclaimed impatiently.

"I know, just… please be careful."

Alfred looked at him and then nodded, an understanding passing between them. They both cared about Arthur.

With that in mind, Alfred hurried down the hall in the direction Arthur had run off to.

No no no no no fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK. Arthur's thoughts had become entirely incoherent, adrenalin burning in his veins as tears blurred his vision.

He tore at the ground, ripping flowers out of the ground.

No no NO NO NO. Every flower he had planted since becoming Queen, every story that didn't matter. Silence, devotion, malevolence, misanthropy, frigidity, heartlessness. Cheerfulness, new beginnings, joy, growing love- He clawed at the dirt, tearing them out by the roots, destroying everything. Dirt flew through the air, smeared on his robes, clumped under fingernails that were beginning to tear and bleed. He couldn't feel the pain of pebbles scraping at his hands over the sound of blood pumping through his veins.

NO NO NO. I WAS HAPPY! I WAS HAPPY! NO! Flowers piled up, limp and lifeless. Everything he had, everything he'd gained over the past months- each memory rushed through his head: the meetings, the flowers, the ghost stories late at night, conversations over tea, board games and impromptu races and games of tag and knitting a present that he'd yet to give and his future which was bright before he threw it all away, him, Arthur, the obstinate, unlovable, infertile Queen.

Arms wrapped around, grabbed his hands, and there were sounds he couldn't hear, couldn't hear over his shaking, the sobs which tore from his throat, a desperate keening noise escaping him-

He was rocking, back and forth, he was being rocked. A sound, like the ocean, like the blood rushing through his veins, I CAN'T BREATHE, a quiet shh. He gasped for air, curling up in on himself as Alfred anchored him to the world.

"I'm sorry!" he gasped, choking on his words, on the air in his lungs, and he wasn't even sure what he was sorry for. I'm sorry for crying, for losing it, for getting dirt all over myself and now it's getting all over you, I'm sorry I'm a complete mess, I'm sorry for ruining everything, everything we had, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry-

"Shh, shh. Breathe, Arthur, it's okay, it's okay." If Arthur had been in his right mind, he would have noticed how Alfred's own voice sounded choked with tears, how the rocking seemed to be for Alfred's comfort more than his own.

"NO!" Arthur screamed, a primal scream from somewhere deep inside himself. He clung to Alfred and sobbed, full-out wailing, in a way he hadn't done since he first found out he was Queen. Alfred held him tightly, making soft meaningless sounds, sounds of comfort that had never been offered to Arthur before and he cried. He cried for his pain, his family that never loved him, his wasted education and wasted dreams of a stupid, stubborn omega. He cried for his past and the future he used to think he had, and for the future he had just gained and then lost again. He cried for all the times he hadn't been allowed to cry, hadn't allowed himself to cry.

He cried until his head ached and his throat went hoarse and he felt he'd cried out every last tear he had. And then he shuddered and shook, panic stuttering to a stop like car that had run out of gas. He stopped, finally, whole body aching with the force of his trembling, hands aching from scrapes and torn fingernails. "I'm sorry," he whined, pathetic, heart aching with pain and regret.

"It's okay, it's okay, it's okay," Alfred murmured, over and over again, a mantra of insane sanity. Arthur shook his head.

"It's not," he croaked. "I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for? It's not your fault, Arthur, it's okay." Arthur could hear the tears in Alfred's voice now.

"I'm infertile," he said, as if finally accepting the reality of what had happened.

"It's okay," Alfred repeated. And for some reason this made Arthur angry, because of course Alfred would say that, because he didn't understand, did he?

"No, it's not!" he said, wrenching himself away from Alfred and turning to face him.

"What do you mean?" Alfred asked, looking lost and confused and oh so sad, sad for him, for Arthur.

"I'm infertile, Alfred," Arthur said, voice shaking with exhausted emotion and pent up frustration. "You can't pretend that this is just okay. You're King, alright? I get it. You can keep the used omega if you want, you can keep the 'treasonous' Queen, and you can love the unlovable, but you can't fix this. I'm infertile. The Queen is not allowed to be infertile."

Alfred, who had looked increasingly pained and confused as Arthur spoke, said, "Why not?"

Arthur laughed in disbelief, a short, quick thing. "The Queen's whole job is to bear children!"

"Says who?" Alfred asked, voice taking on the edge of a challenge. "There's no law that says that."

"I-It's tradition!" Arthur spluttered, because even with all the traditions Alfred was quick to break, surely this was too far.

"Screw tradition," Alfred said immediately. For a moment, Arthur could do nothing but gape in astonishment.

"You can't be serious," he said weakly. "It would be completely unheard of! Queens are executed just on suspicion of being infertile. Now there's proof!"

"Do you even want a kid?" Alfred asked abruptly.

"What?"

"Do. You. Want a kid?" he repeated slowly.

"Wh-What's that got to do with anything?"

"It's your kid! It's got to do with everything!"

"That's not-"

"Arthur," Alfred said, cutting him off. "I'm not asking you as Queen, I'm asking you as Arthur. Do you want a kid, yes or no?"

"I," Arthur hesitated, considering his answer. "…I don't know. I mean… I always wanted a child, but after my career took off. Not that that matters now, and I was never fond of the idea of pregnancy, but-"

"Then this is good!" Alfred exclaimed almost cheerily.

"What?"

"Right? You don't have to be pregnant."

"Because I can't be," Arthur said dully. He never could get Alfred's optimism. And, wanting to be pregnant or not, it felt completely different knowing that he didn't have the option anymore.

"And we can adopt kids," Alfred said, brushing over Arthur's negativity. Arthur stared at him.

"…You're serious, aren't you?" he asked in disbelief.

"Well, yeah. I mean, maybe not now, I'm still kinda getting used to this whole King thing, but… yeah, I mean…" Alfred paused, frowning. "You don't even want to be pregnant. It's not your job to be."

"But it is," Arthur argued, exasperated.

"No. Your job is to rule the Kingdom with the King. That's what you do." Arthur just stared at him, shocked. Your job is to rule the Kingdom with the King. Was he serious? That hadn't been the job of the Queen in centuries. Alfred looked troubled, expression oddly serious even for the situation, before he took Arthur's hands in his own.

"Look, I don't know about having kids or being a show wife or whatever else it is you think you're supposed to do," he began. "You're smart, okay? And you're good at understanding things that I don't, like knowing when people say one thing and mean something different, or when they have ulterior motives." He paused, gathering his thoughts, or, perhaps, his courage. "And you know how to deal with nobles, and the rulers of the other Kingdoms. You're good at diplomacy and manipulation, and you can read those five hundred page proposals in a quarter of the time it takes me. I don't care what the Queen is meant to do or is expected to do. You've done everything you can for this Kingdom, and you're the best Queen I could ever ask for." By now he was blushing, but still he looked Arthur in the eye. "And I hate it when you freak out over stuff like this because it shouldn't matter, but it does, and I hate it. It doesn't matter to me, though. And if anyone says anything about you being infertile, or calls you a bad Queen or something, I'll punch them. Or ignore them. And it won't matter, because I'm the King and you're the Queen and they can't do anything about it."

It was clear Alfred had finished his spiel, as he watched Arthur carefully for his reaction, almost daring him to argue. Arthur didn't. He felt numb with shock, and he almost felt like crying again, though he wasn't quite sure why. It was overwhelming. That was all. Everything about Alfred was simply overwhelming. Arthur still wasn't quite sure how he had come up with all that, when Arthur wasn't sure he could even name that many positive things about himself, but he had. Because Alfred loved him. Alfred would love him while he re-learned how to love himself.

He said nothing, but leaned into the King again, hugging him. They sat there, in the middle of the ruined garden, each finding solace in the other.

A/N The Arthur loving kids bit is based on England raising America, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, etc. For a fierce imperialistic empire, England definitely seemed to have a paternal side. Also, that bit in the garden was a full-blown panic attack.