Author Note: Because I wanted to, honestly. That's why this is here. :D I just started writing it this morning, it's been rolling around my mind for months, and I just wanted to do it! :D so HA! :D and again I say HA! :D haha I promise I'll get back to the other stories, I just wanted to do this :D oh, and it's a oneshot... maybe... I'm putting it as complete anyway! :D hahahahaha... I need to get some breakfast, though now it would be lunchtime :D so, thanks for reading, waiting (impatiently or patiently, doesn't matter :D), faving, and reviewing! :D

P.S. :D I love doing accents :D

Soli Deo Gloria

Disclaimer: Disney owns Tangled, its characters, and its story


Catherine took a deep breath, closing her eyes. Then, because she was more worried than she had planned for, she took another deep breath.

The queen of Corona opened her eyes, staring at the door to her husband's office. She had to calm herself down before entering. It was necessary to be calm, to be collected, to not freak out over the news she had just been given. After all, it was—it was wonderful news. Fantastic news. News that she had been waiting to hear for years. News that would change her life forever. News that would bring as much joy to the people of this kingdom as it had brought to her.

"Oh, why couldn't Oliver wait to tell me about this?" Catherine sighed, clenching and unclenching her fists. "I just go to see him because I've been feeling bad all week. Normal checkup, all in routine, and then he—he has to go and tell me that… it's—it's wonderful and—and I'm happy but…" she sighed again and once more looked at the office door, whispering, "How on earth am I going to tell him? What will he think?"

The door did not answer, and the guard positioned beside it knew better than to respond. After all, it was not the first time a visitor came to the king's office without having an external discussion with himself, and it certainly would not be the last. The fact that it was the queen, however, did make it all the more interesting.

"After all, he is my husband." Catherine reasoned quietly. "He has a right to know. It's part his fault anyway, and—and—oh balderdash! Why am I so scared?"

She continued along this vein for several more minutes, torn between racing into the room screaming the news and bolting off in the opposite direction like a frightened rabbit.

Finally, the guard by the door cleared his throat, addressing his queen politely. "Excuse me, your Majesty?"

"Yes?" Catherine looked up at the formidable soldier.

He smiled slightly, "The king 'as an appointment within the next ten minutes. If you want to speak to 'im today without being glared at by the Duke of Florence, I would suggest you go in now. It is entirely h'up to you, of course, but-," he hesitated before adding encouragingly, "-whatever it is you 'ave to say to 'im, I'm sure 'e wants to 'ear about it."

"Are you sure?"

He nodded, "Yes ma'am. I've 'ad eight of 'em myself and it never gets old."

Catherine's expression of tense anxiety relaxed slightly, and she smiled at him. "You dear, dear man. I'll talk to him about giving you a pay raise."

The solider grinned, his face reddening, "Thank you, your Majesty, but you don't 'ave to-."

"What is your name?"

"Uh—Charles, ma'am."

"Expect a bonus in your paycheck, Charles." She declared firmly.

Charles dropped a quick bow, stammering, "Th-thank you, ma'am. Um, would you like me to get the door for you?"

The queen shook her head, turning back to the door, "No I—I can do that much."

"Okay. And, ah, congratulations, ma'am, on your forthcoming blessing."

"Thank you." She gave the soldier a nervous smile and set a trembling hand upon the door handle.


The king of Corona did not look up from his desk when his door was opened. Nor did he leave off from the letter he was scripting when a pair of light footsteps he knew very well approached.

In fact, he probably would not have spoken at all if his wife had not said his name.

"Tommy."

"Not now, dear. I need to finish this letter to Geoff. Apparently he's having trouble with the fainting goats again—blasted things are a nightmare to herd."

Catherine nodded silently, gazing at her husband.

Thomas had not changed much during the last several years of their marriage. Even after taking the throne two years in, the man was still as strong and healthy as ever. He still had the same handsome, dark brown hair and whiskers, reassuring blue eyes, and austere Roman nose. He even had that furrowed line which appeared upon his forehead during moments of stress or concentration. In fact, the only true difference she could really point out was the medallion of Corona resting upon his chest. And that was a material difference, nothing more.

Listening to the quill scratching upon parchment, the queen experienced yet another internal struggle. Should she interrupt him? That would be rude… but this was important! This was amazing! This was something he needed to hear, and he needed to hear it from her first of all. Meanwhile, the court physician was probably already having his apprentice draft up an official diagnosis. The number of people who knew would continue to grow nonstop. By the end of the day, everyone in the kingdom would have heard.

It would be quite a shame if the king had not.

Catherine tried to speak again, found she could not manage to get a word out, and instead set her hand over his right. The action prevented Thomas from writing any more, but it also alerted him to something that was more serious than fainting goats. He turned to his wife.

"Cat?"

"I-," she sighed weakly, not meeting his eyes, "-I have—have something to—to…" she faltered, unable to continue.

Immediately, Thomas started panicking. His wife had been ill all week. She had gone to see the court physician. Now she had returned and she did not look pleased with the result. What had happened? What could he do? What in the world had that idiotic doctor thought when he had scared Catherine into near-muteness? Oh, if he got his hands around that upstart intern's neck he would-.

Thomas's line of thinking instantly broke off when his wife sank down to her knees, still clutching his hand.

He turned around in his chair to face her, asking hastily, "Cat dear, what's the matter? What did he say? What's wrong?"

She was crying. Oh no—no… she was crying.

"Cat!" Thomas pleaded urgently. "Cat, please tell me what's wrong!"

His wife shook her head, wiping at her eyes, "I'm sorry, Tommy. I—I'm sorry. N-nothing's wrong. I'm fine, just-."

"You're not—you're not ill?" He choked, staring at her.

She shook her head, smiling, "No dear, I'm not ill."

Feeling immensely better, Thomas nodded, "So what—what happened? Why are you crying?"

"Honestly, I don't know why I'm bothering with that." Catherine muttered, still dabbing tears away. "Natural reaction, I guess."

"Reaction to what?"

"Well, to the pregnancy."

Thomas nearly fell out of his chair. "To the what?"

"Though I suppose the correct word would be 'of'…" She murmured thoughtfully, apparently not noticing that her husband was close to having a seizure.

"Cat, to—to the what? Reaction to the what?" The king demanded, gripping her hand very tightly in both of his.

Catherine frowned, "Tommy, don't squeeze so hard. That actually hurts."

Thomas glared sternly at her, growling through gritted teeth, "Cat."

"What? Oh, I'm so sorry." She grinned sheepishly. "Forgot what I was doing. Um, Thomas?"

"Yes?"

"You're going to be a father, dear."

Her husband made a noise that sounded like a mixture between a frog's croak and a sheep's bleat. It also sounded as if it had a question mark at the end of it, but Catherine was not certain for sure. So, instead of answering, she simply waited for him to regain control of his vocal functions.

Eventually, Thomas managed, "So you—you're-?"

She nodded, "Yes."

"With a—a?"

She smiled and nodded again, "Yes dear."

He stared at her helplessly, his mind trying to form a suitable response that did not resemble the cry of a petulant, half-starved kitten.

Thomas gulped back the meow threatening to leave his mouth and asked hoarsely, "After—after all this time? After what all those doctors said about us not having any children and we're—we're having one?"

His wife shrugged, "Apparently so."

"And the physician-?"

"Was very pleased to inform me about it. Oh-," Catherine started, remembering, "-and you need to give Charles a bonus."

Thomas narrowed his eyes, "Who?"

"The guard outside your door. He's very kind and he actually has eight children of-," her husband rose out of his chair and knelt on the floor in front of her, "-you should really consider raising his-," Thomas cut her off abruptly when he wrapped his arms around her.

Catherine, her head pressed right against his chest, could hear that his heart was beating rather fast. He was also shaking slightly even as he held her in this very strong embrace. And then he was saying something.

"Cat, I love you."

She could hear his chest rumbling with every word. The vibrations literally hummed.

"I love you so much, dear, beautiful girl."

She reached up and grasped his shirtfront, feeling as if she would quite like to start crying again.

"I love you more than life itself." He murmured tenderly. "And you know what else?"

"What?" She asked, her voice quivering.

Thomas drew back to gaze right into her face, grinning broadly, "I love the fact that you're carrying my child."

Catherine sniffed bravely, smiling, "Good, because it's mostly your fault."

The king laughed, each booming note shaking the glass in the windows behind him. He then began to kiss his wife enthusiastically, receiving a very satisfied response in return.


Outside the office, the Duke of Florence crossed his arms and glared at the guard. "And just why, may I ask, am I not allowed to see his Majesty? I had an appointment!"

"I know, your dukeship sir. But, um, 'e's celebrating, sir." Charles replied, shifting to stand more rigidly before the door.

"Celebrating what?"

"Well, most fathers tend to go a bit overboard the first time around, sir. And 'er Majesty's in there and, well…" His face grew significantly rosy.

The Duke of Florence raised his eyebrows, "'Father'?"

"Yes sir. And a very 'appy one, I wager."

"Ah." He nodded and coughed uncomfortably, "Well, I'd better tell Andrea to start looking for a gift. Goodness knows we appreciate that bassinet the queen sent us. Um, give my regards to the king, please. We can schedule another time."

Charles grinned, "I will, sir."


Thanks for reading! :D