Matthew was the sweetest baby imaginable, positively cherubic, never crying or fussing much, to the point that they sometimes forgot why they were holding a flask of warm milk in their hands. But other than that, Arthur took to parenthood enthusiastically, and he and Francis resumed their intimate relations as soon as he recovered enough to do so, though Francis was understandably now more eager to play the role of the husband than the wife. It spoke of his regard for Francis that Arthur did not object to this and instead welcomed the new sensation of being romanced and pleasured and simply loved.

Yet something so wonderful could not last forever, and this strange rose-tinted affection between them began to fade as the summer blossoms wilted, the autumn fruits fell, and the leaves turned to red and gold and then brown. Francis began to leave the house for hours at a time, sometimes days, leaving Arthur to tend to Matthew and wait anxiously for the other's return. And return he would, with his arms full of furs and pelts to trade or food to feed their little family, a tired expression on his face and a distant look in his eyes.

One snowy day, for winter came early in these lands, Arthur opened the door to find Francis holding a small polar bear cub in his arms. There was an immediate row, Arthur thought it was much too dangerous and he must be out of his mind to think otherwise, but Francis insisted on letting Matthew keep the cub as a companion.

"Why does Matthew need a companion?" Arthur muttered sullenly as Francis introduced Matthew to his new friend. "He has you and me, does he not?"

"No, not forever."

This time there was no hiding behind sweet words and false smiles.

"Arthur, you must realize by now, Matthew is like us. And we cannot stay here with him, even if we wanted to." Francis paused, meeting Arthur's eyes, those captivating green eyes that had bewitched him from the day they first met, and he forced himself to continue, for the sake of preserving this precious thing they had once and may never have again.

"It is for the best that he should not know about this… About us."

No, Arthur could not disagree with Francis, not this time, for he could feel the irresistible force pulling at his bones, beckoning him to catch the nearest ship and cross the ocean to his lonely isle, to go home where he was needed and leave these cold quiet lands behind. He could see the same compulsion occupying Francis' attention. He could not deny it, as he had tried to deny the fact that Francis had stopped wearing the ring he gave him.

But knowing did not erase the hurt, and this heart break he would remember till the end of days.

"I understand," Arthur said quietly, drawing himself up, closing himself off. "This never happened."

[Author's note: And that was how Canada was born of an unholy union between France and England! This is my first and last attempt at mpreg, I hope you enjoyed me not going into detail of how a baby came out of a man living in the late 1600s. Thanks again for your comments/favorites!]