There was a saying: “what’s born in the castle, stays in the castle.” It was a saying that for a lot of normal people would mean absolutely nothing, but for Dean Winchester… it ruled his life. His mother and father were both castle dwellers (or, well, they lived in the vicinity), and thanks to the way they appeased the king and grew the family name, once Dean and his younger brother were of age, they were both given rightful jobs on castle grounds, rather than being sent to live in the city.
Dean, of course, hit rightful age at the same time that his father fell ill, which meant that his job was all but a given; he began learning from the other mechanics in the large garage that housed the royal family’s fleet of cars, and when his father died a year later, his eventual role was set in stone.
Sam, the lucky buck, showed a propensity for math and science while in school, and was taught at the local university, before being brought back to the castle to serve as one of the doctors on staff in the large building. The castle’s ‘hospital’ took up three whole floors in the east wing, allowing for all staff members to have their own suite of rooms there on site. Once Sam moved into the large brick building, Dean hardly ever saw him.
It was probably for the better.
Since his mother had retired from her job on the castle cleaning staff and moved to one of the southern cities in Pacifica — seeking out a calm that couldn’t be found there in the capital — Dean focused almost all of his attention on his work. He worked something close to eighty hours a week, before he’d go back to the small room in the apartment he shared with five other men (one other mechanic, two repairmen, and two groundskeepers). It was a daily grind that showed no sign of looking up. Ever.
Dean rolled his eyes, halfway through making himself a sandwich in the apartment’s small kitchen, when his newest roommate Luke stepped into the space. Fifty years ago, under the rule of King Charles, it had made a difference whether or not a person was born alpha, beta, or omega, but in the late 60’s, a new law was passed to prevent discrimination based on secondary sex. Which is how Dean, as a rare male omega, was still allowed to be a mechanic, rather than being forced into a less strenuous position. His secondary gender and sexual organs had absolutely no effect on the type of person he was; hell, he didn’t even have heats thanks to the suppressants he was allowed to take.
Which is why it was so frustrating to come into contact with someone like Luke — who still lived in the past and wanted to judge people based on what they were, rather than who they were. “Luke,” he replied, voice stiff and void of emotions. He knew Luke’s type, the few times that he ventured down to the city for a rare night off, he was always surrounded by posturing alphas just waiting for him to cause a scene.
Not him. Not Dean Winchester.
Luke put his hands on the counter and used his arms to block in Dean’s body, allowing him to press right up against Dean’s backside. There was a moment of deep breathing and the feeling of air passing over his neck which told Dean that the other man was fucking scenting him, something that was not allowed in proper company, before Luke growled, “You’d look so much prettier hanging off of my cock, omega. Why do you fight?”
He shoved back, landing an elbow in Luke’s side and giving himself enough room to slip away thanks to the way the other man moved to hold the spot he’d hit. Instead of giving Luke a reply, he carried his breakfast quickly out of the room and back down the hallway to his bedroom, ignoring the alpha’s laughter as it followed him. The shitty thing was, he thought as he closed and locked his bedroom door, that Luke wasn’t a half bad looking dude, and if he wasn’t such an alpha dick, Dean might consider fucking him.
Thankfully, relationships amongst the castle workers were a bitch and a half. If someone happened to find their perfect mate and wanted to marry and live with the other person, possibly start a family, they had to get approval for the relationship — from four different people. First you had to ask your commander, whomever was in charge of the department where you worked, he had to sign a paper, as well as your potential partner’s commanding officer. From there, paper in hand with both signatures, you had to get approval from the head of household — the person in charge of all castle staff members. If the head of household approved the courtship, it was finally sent to the king’s desk… where, because it was such a lowly request, it could take up to twelve months for the king to actually get around to signing the damn thing!
If the couple actually lived within castle walls, things could be expedited much quicker. But for the people like Dean who lived in the surrounding buildings and never even saw the royal family, it was damn near impossible.
So it was common to find people sleeping with other workers, hell… some even had boyfriends and girlfriends down in the city that they hardly saw… but it was not very common to happen upon married couples in the barracks.
Which is why it was so much easier to just focus on his work and forget about things like relationships. Even sex. He had a couple of good alpha friends that he would go to if he ever had the overwhelming need to get fucked, but for the most part he kept to himself.
And ignored dicks like Luke.
Sam was not a big fan of Monday mornings. For most people it would be because it was the start of the work week and the journey back to reality — but Sam loved his job and never felt bothered by having to go back to work after a weekend.
No, he hated Monday mornings because his first meeting of the week was always a quick check-in with the royal family. It was a job that usually fell on the shoulders of the lead physician, but since his boss hated ‘house calls’, he had found some way around the rules and designated Sam as the royal doctor.
He took the elevator to the top floor of the large castle, and then carried his med-bag with him as he walked the long corridor to where guest reception area was. He checked in with the security staff, smiled at the head of household, and was escorted to the breakfast room, where King Castiel and Queen Madelyn sat eating breakfast and making very little small talk.
“Your majesties,” the servant of the day spoke, gaining the king and queen’s attention. “Doctor Samuel has arrived.”
King Castiel smiled and dismissed the servant, before motioning to the empty chair to his right. “Samuel, have you eaten?”
“Yes, your highness.” He sat in the offered chair and smiled at the queen, before focusing his attention on the king. Since Sam visited once a week, the need for actual check-ups was not really necessary. Rather, he was mostly there in case Castiel or Madelyn had any medical matters they needed to discuss or wanted advice on. He also monitored the queen’s heat cycle and the king’s rut schedule, to make sure everything was running smoothly down there.
It had been three weeks since the couple’s cycles had been completed. Which meant that it was a fine time to discuss—
“The answer is no, Sam,” Madelyn mused from across the table. “I have had no signs.”
Sam dropped his head for a moment, trying to school his features so that he didn’t show his disappointment.
Three years. He had been working with the king and queen for three years, dozens upon dozens of cycles, and still nothing. They had tried medicines, had even contacted an herbalist and tried herbs, but the results were always the same.
The queen, bless her soul, had a low egg count that made the chances of insemination less than one percent. The medicines — all attempting to raise her egg count — seemed to be failing. Which left them with very few options.
He turned his attention to the king. “What are we to do?”
Since he was the only physician that regularly visited the king and queen, he was the only other person with knowledge of how many times they had tried to get pregnant. If others knew, it would probably cause widespread panic throughout the city, hell, maybe even the whole kingdom. There had never been a king or queen of Pacifica that wasn’t directly descended from King Augustus — which meant that Castiel had to have a child, or his crazy cousin would probably step back into the picture and try to take over.
There had been rumors whispered in the dark for most of Sam’s life — rumors that the current lineage was destined to fail thanks to the fact that each generation, only one new heir was added. Hell, even the crazy cousin that no one dared to mention… was a fifth or sixth cousin with hardly any real connection to the throne.
King Castiel finished his breakfast, before taking a long sip of water and focusing his attention on Sam once the glass was placed carefully back on the table. “Maddy and I have come up with a plan, Samuel. One that will require your help, as well as Raphael’s.”
Raphael was the head of security — a stern man that Sam didn’t ever dare to look directly in the eye.
Castiel continued, “This plan will require complete secrecy with penalty of death looming, shall anyone let anything slip.”
“Raphael is starting to compile a list of omegas on castle grounds. From there, he’ll begin to sort through ones whose appearance matches that of the queen.” Castiel held Sam’s eyes with a sharp stare. “We will find a surrogate. You will help with coordinating exams to make sure the omega is fertile, then initiate the insemination process and monitor the omega throughout the pregnancy. Does that sound doable?”
Sam thought for a moment, before nodding his head. “Might I make one suggestion?” Castiel nodded, motioning for him to continue. “Come up with two candidates that are perfect, and we will work through the insemination process with both. That way, odds are in our favor as far as issues go with the pregnancy — the possibility of miscarriage is less daunting.”
“Smart,” Madelyn spoke from across the table. “And my head mistress will work with me to make sure that once the surrogates are showing, I’ll look just as pregnant. If the process is done properly, no one will ever suspect a thing.”
Castiel looked to his wife, reaching out a hand to grasp her’s and smiling softly, “If both pregnancies take… we could have twins, my love.”
“Oh!” She seemed surprised to realize that idea, but then laughed happily and nodded her head. “What a blessing.”
“One more thing, your majesties.” Sam bit at his bottom lip, thinking for a moment before looking up at them, “Once we’ve started to process, I would suggest having the queen go on suppressants. It wouldn’t do to have the surrogacies in progress and then your highness getting pregnant while looking six months along…”
“Perfectly reasonable,” the King responded. “And we’ll work with Raphael to have nearby quarters made up for the surrogates once they are located. The less time the spend out and about raising eyebrows, the better.”
“Very good.” Sam stood, picking up his bag and smiling at the two. “Anything else?”
Castiel shook his head, but Madelyn caught her husband’s hand and stared up at Sam. “Sam… you said before that… this can all be done artificially, correct?”
He didn’t understand for a moment, before he watched the queen look quickly to her husband and then back at Sam. Suddenly he got it, and he nodded his head at her worries. “Of course, ma’am. The science department has all but perfected the art of artificial insemination. The King will simply provide a donation on the day of, and from there we will handle everything.”
“Perfect,” Castiel mused. “If need be, we can tell curious folks that we are moving forward with test subjects to make sure the process is perfected. It’s a great explanation as to why the two surrogates will be receiving such levels of attention.”
“Thank you, Sam,” the Queen spoke. He gave another nod, before accepting the dismissal from the king and stepping out of the dining room.
As he carried his bag back the way he had came, he went over in his mind the people that he knew that would fit the requirements needed for a perfect surrogate. Unfortunately, since most of his time was spent in the hospital ward, the only faces that he could place were those of other doctors and nurses — most of which wouldn’t fit the bill.
By the time he got back to the ward, his attention was stolen but a few surgeries that the main doctor needed assistance with, and before he knew it, he was heading up to his apartment and hadn’t thought of the royal surrogate all day. As he stepped inside of the one bedroom apartment, he smiled at the smell of a freshly cooked dinner. Moving into the kitchen, he wrapped his arms around the small blonde omega that he had sworn his life to, and kissed along her neck. “Hello, love.”
She looked up at him, eyes twinkling, “Sammy. How was work?”
“Busy.” His hands moved down to the hem of her shirt, easily ducking beneath the fabric so he could brush one large hand along the small bump growing there. “How is our little bean?”
“Wiggly like a butterfly.” She kissed his jaw, before slapping playfully at his chest. “Go wash up, you smell like chemicals.”
“Yes, dear.” He leaned down, capturing one true kiss on her lips, before finally pulling away. “Love you.”
“Love you too, moose. Now hurry, dinner's almost ready.”
“Yes, my queen.”
“I’m going to smack you for that later,” Claire called after him, but she was laughing, nonetheless.