Chapter 378: Chapter 378: Congratulations [Win-Win]

Three weeks later, Chris learned that the universe had a sick sense of timing.

He was in the medical wing of the palace with Dax at his side, and it was astonishing how fast a corridor full of trained professionals could become a corridor full of people remembering urgent errands elsewhere.

It wasn’t even Dax’s fault this time. Not directly.

He was simply… there.

A touring alpha, tall enough to make doorframes look decorative, moving through the sterile brightness of the wing like a predator forced to enter a kennel. His presence alone changed the air, saturating it with his pheromones. Guards outside stepped straighter. Staff inside stepped back. Physicians who were normally unshakable found themselves swallowing before speaking.

Chris would’ve found it funny if he hadn’t already been irritable for days.

Sharp-edged, like his patience had been sanded down too far. Everything had been too bright, too loud, and too slow. His body had felt off in small, annoying ways he didn’t like to admit – sleep that didn’t satisfy, hunger that came wrong, and moods that shifted like weather.

Now he sat on the examination bed in a crisp white robe and felt like the room was conspiring.

The physicians filed in – two omegas, one beta, and an alpha who looked like he’d aged ten years in the last five minutes purely from standing within Dax’s radius.

Normally, Chris’s check-ups were routine. Efficient. Almost boring. The staff spoke to him easily because Chris didn’t do fragile. He asked direct questions, demanded direct answers, and treated everyone like professionals instead of servants.

With Dax there, they were… polite in the way prey was polite.

“One of you can talk,” Chris said flatly after a full minute of throat-clearing and eye-avoiding. “I promise my husband won’t eat you for using consonants.”

Dax’s hand rested on the edge of the bed beside Chris’s thigh. His expression was calm, but his gaze tracked every movement like he was taking inventory of threats.

The beta physician attempted a smile. It came out shaky. “Your Majesty… Consort…”

“Chris,” Chris corrected, because he wasn’t in the mood for theater.

The physician nodded quickly. “Chris. We’ll… begin with the usual.”

They did. Pulse. Temperature. Basic questions. Questions Chris answered with clipped patience while Dax stood behind him like a wall that could turn into a weapon if anyone breathed wrong.

The alpha physician tried to step closer to check a reading and visibly hesitated when Dax’s gaze shifted.

Chris sighed through his nose. “Dax,” he said without looking back, “stop looming.”

“I’m not looming,” Dax replied, entirely unrepentant.

“You’re radiating murder.”

“I’m radiating concern.”

Chris glanced back at him. “That is not the same thing.”

Dax’s mouth twitched, faintly amused, but he eased back half a step anyway. It helped. Barely.

Bloodwork had already been taken that morning. Notes were prepared. A scan had been scheduled because Chris had been ’off’ long enough for the medical wing to insist and because Dax didn’t do uncertainty when it involved Chris.

Then the door opened again and Nadia walked in.

She took the chart from one of the physicians with a brisk motion that carried authority without needing permission. Her eyes scanned the page once.

Then she looked up.

Right at Chris and smiled.

“Congratulations,” Nadia said simply.

The room went silent in the way rooms did right before history changed.

Chris blinked. “For what?”

Nadia’s brows lifted a fraction, unimpressed by his denial. Then she turned the chart slightly and angled it so Chris could see the lab line she was looking at.

Positive.

“Pregnancy,” Nadia said, like she was announcing the weather. “Approximately three weeks.”

Chris didn’t move.

His brain did that thing where it tried to reject reality on principle.

Dax moved, though.

One second he was a still, looming presence. The next, he was closer, hand tightening on the bedframe, his whole attention snapping to the chart like it had become the only thing in the world.

“What?” Dax said, voice low.

Nadia didn’t even blink at him. “The consort queen is three weeks pregnant,” she repeated calmly, as if she hadn’t just dropped a bomb in a room full of fragile glass. “I thought you were actively trying.”

Chris huffed a short laugh, breathless and half-offended. “Yes, but I didn’t expect to get pregnant from the first try.”

One of the physicians made a faint choking sound and immediately pretended it was a cough.

Dax’s gaze slid to Chris – purple, suddenly too open. Awe didn’t soften him the way it softened other people. It made him… frightening in a new way. Like the world had just handed him something sacred, and he’d decided nobody would breathe near it without permission.

“I told you,” Dax said, voice rough with quiet satisfaction, “the process is highly effective.”

Chris turned his head just enough to give him a look. “You mean you are highly effective.”

Dax didn’t even flinch at the accusation. If anything, his mouth twitched. “Yes.”

Nadia’s pen scratched across the chart, entirely unbothered by royal intimacy, and her tone stayed brisk. “Given that it worked immediately, we’re going to assume your baseline health is excellent and your stress management is atrocious,” she said without looking up.

Chris opened his mouth.

Nadia lifted a finger. “Don’t.”

Chris closed it again, offended on principle.

Dax’s hand found Chris’s, fingers threading through with slow reassurance. The contact was careful and grounding, like he needed to touch proof that Chris was real and not something he’d imagined into existence.

“You’re alright,” Dax murmured, more to himself than to anyone else.

Chris swallowed and tried for sarcasm because sarcasm was safer than feeling. “I’m great. I’m only being medically bullied in my own palace.”

Nadia finally looked up, eyes dry. “You’re welcome.”

A pause.

Then she added, with the same calm she might use to announce a schedule change, “You’re carrying a royal pregnancy. You’re going to sleep, you’re going to eat, and you’re going to stop pretending you can outwork biology.”

Chris’s mouth twitched before the grin won.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Chris said. “I’m going to take full advantage of it.”

One of the physicians made a soft, helpless noise and stared very hard at the wall as if professionalism were painted there.

Nadia didn’t look impressed. “If by ’advantage’ you mean you’ll finally stop skipping meals, I approve.”

Chris’s grin widened. “No. I mean, I’m going to finally delegate without guilt and sleep like a tyrant with medical justification.”

Dax’s eyes warmed, fond. “You already delegate like a tyrant.”

“I delegate like a competent adult,” Chris corrected. “You start fights like a tyrant.”

Dax’s mouth twitched. “I don’t start fights.”

Chris turned his head just enough to look at him. “You start wars, and I file the paperwork to keep them from happening.”

Nadia’s pen scratched across the chart. “That’s… the most accurate description of your marriage I’ve ever heard.”

Dax looked vaguely pleased about it, which was the problem.

Nadia flipped to the next page. “You’re not going to use pregnancy as an excuse to ’take advantage’ by pushing yourself,” she said, and her gaze flicked to Dax. “And you…” She paused, because calling a king out was always a calculated sport, “you are going to stop trying to solve stress by intimidating the building.”

Dax’s expression went innocent in the way predators pretended to be harmless. “I’m not intimidating anyone.”

Chris huffed a laugh. “The corridor emptied when you walked in.”

“That’s efficiency,” Dax said smoothly.

Nadia didn’t blink. “It’s fear.”

Dax held her stare for half a beat, then looked away as if the ceiling had suddenly become fascinating. He didn’t argue, which was practically a confession.

Chris leaned back on his palms, posture relaxed, voice lighter than it had any right to be. “See? She’s on my side.”

Nadia arched a brow. “I’m on the baby’s side. Which means I’m on the side of whichever one of you is more likely to follow instructions.”

Chris opened his mouth, ready to claim victory…

Nadia’s gaze slid to Dax. “That would be you,” she said flatly.

Chris went still. “Excuse me?”

Dax’s mouth twitched, smug and delighted.

Nadia tapped the chart with her pen. “You,” she said to Chris, “will negotiate with logic until your body collapses out of stubbornness. He,” she nodded at Dax, “will obey any medical order if you tell him it keeps you safe. It’s the only time he becomes civilized.”

Chris stared at Dax, betrayed.

Dax lifted a shoulder. “She’s correct.”

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