Chapter Text
Arthur
"I think Dad knew and never cared."
Arthur Fox was known by many names. To the public, he was Arthur Fox, actor extraordinaire. For a brief period of time, he was known as James Bond. To the literal Queen of England, he was known as "that actor scum". To his wife, he was Artie and, affectionately, husband. He had a little secret though; his favorite name was the one his children gave him: Dad.
Arthur had always wanted to be a father. He was an only child growing up, and despite his friends' insistence that having siblings wasn't all it was cracked up to be, Arthur still had always wanted a sibling. But then he found out what a terrible pregnancy his mother had with him and promptly filed that wish away, only bringing it back to the forefront when he and Catherine had the Kid Talk and expressed that they both wanted multiple children. As only children themselves, the couple didn't want one child to shoulder the monarchy on their own.
So they had Philip and loved him, although they were too new to the whole parenting thing that once they realized Mary had her grasp on Pip's mind, it was too late. Arthur became known as "Father" after that.
After Philip was Beatrice, who had always insisted on doing things herself, like walking for the first time or climbing onto a chair with only Arthur's hands around her in case she fell. Bea was an independent spirit, and Arthur loved her for it.
After Beatrice came Henry, who was quiet and soft-hearted from birth. He liked being read to before bed, asking for "one more story, Dad, just one more!" and couldn't pass by a single puppy without asking if he could pet them.
Philip needed Mary, Bea needed nobody, and Henry needed everybody.
Henry needed and needed and needed and Arthur would gladly keep giving and giving and giving ten times over. And right now as Henry ran into the castle, Arthur knew that Henry needed him again.
He would never tire of caring for Henry, of loving him. It was so easy to love his little blue-eyed boy, so easy to receive love from his big bleeding heart. It was also so easy to feel worried about when his big bleeding heart would bleed too much.
"Henry," Arthur called as he knocked tentatively on the bathroom door. "Are you alright, son? You left quite quickly there."
It was a rather mundane garden party that Henry had dashed out of, and although not many noticed, Arthur could tell when Henry had left his side. Arthur could hear the sound of rushing water behind the door and briefly wondered if Henry just needed to use the loo. It was just a brief thought though before he remembered the truly distressed look on his twelve-year-old son's face as he ducked past all the guests.
"I— I'm... I'm fine Dad," Henry's little voice echoed to Arthur.
Arthur's eyebrows furrowed. He was an actor, a professional at pretending to be someone he was not. It wasn't all that different from lying once you got down to it and Arthur could tell a bad actor from a good one. Henry was neither a good actor nor a good liar and he never lied.
"May I come in, Hen?"
Henry's voice was quiet, so much so that Arthur barely heard his son say he could. The door was unlocked as if Henry had forgotten to lock it because his mind was on other things that he considered more daunting than being walked in on. Henry was still at the sink, the water splashing on his hands as he washed them again and again and again. Henry had to have used up half of the soap container by now as he scrubbed his hands the same way Arthur himself had taught him when he was younger. Henry's hands were red and raw, but he kept going as if there was something on his skin that he needed off more than anything.
Before Henry could get more soap from the intricate dispenser, Arthur placed his hand on top of his son's, wordlessly turning the faucet off with his other hand. He guided Henry by the hands lightly to the toilet seat. Henry sat on it, looking down at his wet hands. Arthur took the hand towel and bent down on the floor, wiping Henry's hands slowly as he looked at them.
"Could you tell me what's wrong, little star?"
Arthur had started calling Henry his "little star" around Henry's seventh birthday when he received a brass telescope from Arthur. The telescope was the start of Henry's shared interest with Arthur in the stars. No matter how bright the stars shone above them, nothing was brighter than the look on Henry's face as he looked through that telescope.
Henry hesitated before he spoke, "It's dumb—"
"It's not."
Arthur discouraged his children from ever calling how they felt anything less than worthy of discussion. Being royalty was such a private position, Arthur would be damned if his children had to be private to their own family.
"It's just... Gran made me meet with the girl whose dad is a viscount or something. I dunno. But she said she would 'make a nice bride for me'. I don't wanna bride, Dad. She's nice but I don't wanna marry her. And then we had to hold hands for her mum and Gran and I didn't like that."
Arthur looked up, his eyes searching Henry's small face and it all clicked. Oh. His bright blue eyes were tearing up and immediately Arthur took his son's hands in his, the large palms of his own hands blanketing his son's.
"You don't have to like that. You don't have to marry her, little star. Or anyone for that matter. You're only twelve!" His thumb rubbed Henry's pink skin comfortingly. "And even if you wanted to marry someone, it doesn't have to be her. It's your choice who you marry one day, just like how your mum chose me. Whoever you choose, we'll be happy because you're happy."
Henry looked at his father cautiously, as if he were expecting him to take it back. Arthur would never take it back. He would always be happiest when his children were as well.
"Okay," Henry answered, sniffling a bit. Arthur reached on the countertop for a tissue, holding it out to Henry who took it and blew his nose.
"Do you want to go back?" Arthur asked, standing up and looking down at Henry. "You don't have to if you don't want to. You could go to the library or perhaps to your room if you'd like."
"My room, please, Dad." Henry stood as well, expecting his father to walk ahead of him but Arthur stuck out his hand for Henry to take instead. They'd go together, holding hands.
Arthur would die before he let Henry go through this alone.