[Lauchenoiria]

The night we met I knew I needed you so

 
“Come on, once more, push!”
 
Natasha Robinson screamed into her mother’s face as she pushed. This was unintentional; Carmen was merely too close.
 
“That’s it, well done!”
 
Natasha panted for breath as a tiny cry sounded.
 
“Congratulations, Miss Robinson; you have a beautiful baby boy.”
 
The midwife handed Natasha a tiny baby wrapped in a blanket, and as Natasha looked into her son’s eyes, she saw the world anew.

And if I had the chance I'd never let you go

 
Four hours later, Prince Kristofer stormed into his father the King’s bedroom and woke the Zongongian monarch with a shout.
 
“She’s had the baby!”
 
“Nghhh…” the King mumbled in his sleep.
 
“Father! Natasha has had the baby, and it’s a boy.”
 
“What? Oh, Kristofer, what time is it?”
 
“About 1am. Did you hear what I said? I’ve already called ZIA, they are on their way. You need to make a decision, father, about if you will stand with me on this.”

So won't you say you love me?

 
In Kerlile, the message was passed to each of the Councillors via phone, without requiring anyone to get out of bed. They did, however, collectively start messaging the chaotic mess that was the Council of Kerlile’s group chat.
 
[Greenwood]: So, are we congratulating her or what? Idk what to do in this situation lol
 
[Arnott]: I am, I’ve already messaged her. You should too!
 
[Patel]: Have you forgotten that the girl was exiled for treason???
 
[Georgiou]: Have you forgotten the girl was almost forced into marrying that misogynist pig in Zongongia? Have some compassion!
 
[Pierre]: Showing the patriarchy that we support women is more important than punishing Natasha for her grandmother’s conspiracy.
 
[Viallamando]: lol you’re so brainwashed by the reformists 
 
[Hart]: stop politicising a teen who just had a baby
 
[Hale]: Natalia’s right, Kerlians of all people shouldn’t be politicising this!
 
[Chiu]: It is 1am. Go to bed!!!

I'll make you so proud of me

 
Carmen Robinson returned to see her daughter and granddaughter after giving the press conference that Natasha had asked her to. They were both fully aware that if they did not get ahead of the story, it would get ahead of them. They’d tried very hard to trick her into giving away the baby’s name, which Carmen would not do – especially given that Natasha was yet to name her son.
 
Kerlians, as a rule, found out the sex of the baby before birth. Natasha had made a conscious choice to break with that tradition; in part because of rebellion against Kerlian society, and in greater part in case Kristofer somehow found out and did something. They were all deeply concerned that the Zongongians would try something, and had made that abundantly clear to the Eirians. Fortunately, Zongongia had bigger problems to deal with over the continuous protests in their capital.
 
When she returned, Natasha was asleep and the baby too. The midwife and Carmen exchanged smiles, and Carmen stroked her sleeping daughter’s head, leaning over to give her a kiss on the forehead.
 
“I’m so proud of you,” Carmen whispered. “For making your own choices, even if they upset both patriarchy and matriarchy at the same time.”

We'll make 'em turn their heads every place we go

 
By the next day, Kristofer had given his instructions to some very uneasy Zongongian intelligence agents. They would set off immediately. And in the meantime, a distraction was needed. One that would draw the eyes of the world.
 
And he knew exactly what to do.

[Lauchenoiria]

They had waited just long enough to reduce medical risks to the baby. Given, however, that their intentions were to kidnap him, this was small comfort. They did not know the name that Natasha had given her son; hospital staff had kept all the tags which usually displayed the name to ID-number only for precisely this reason - security concerns directed towards potential Zongongian interference.

Nobody was actually concerned about Kerlian interference, despite what the newspapers said. Messing with newborn babies was not their style (even the Auroras weren’t taken for training until they were two). In another universe, where Eiria was not so hostile to Auroras, a couple who had some loyalty to the Robinson family would have hovered around Natasha and her son as extra security. But in this universe, no self-respecting Aurora would touch Eiria with a barge pole these days. And thus, the three-person Zongongian task force did not have them to contend with.

The first member of Prince Kristofer’s kidnapping team was in charge of the distraction. On the appointed day, he entered the hospital alongside the evening visiting-time crowd in the opposite wing from where Natasha was being kept more securely. He slipped into a particularly foul-smelling public toilet that he intuited would be off-putting to real visitors: the less collateral damage the better, they weren’t Xiomerans after all. He chucked some piles of newspaper he’d brought into a bin and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a large multipack of lighters, fluid included.

He did not smoke. The cigarettes had only been purchased to make the lighters make sense. He discarded the box in a nearby sink. Then he opened the packet of lighters and emptied the fluid carefully, in a trail which would cause the most damage with the amount he had. Ideally he would have brought more, but the lighters gave plausible deniability if he was searched in a way that a can would not. He reached up and disconnected the fire alarm for the room, which he had learned to do back in his covert ops training. Then he used the last lighter with a teeny bit of fluid to light the fire, and left the bathroom.

Meanwhile, another was disguised as a “nurse” on loan from another hospital to cover staffing shortages (the team had slipped some rotten food into the nurse staffroom, to induce food poisoning which would be temporary, barring complications). Her job was to monitor the situation, and keep her eye on the baby when the building was evacuated. Sure enough, the fire alarm started to blare once the smoke reached the next room’s alarm. Everyone looked around as if it was a test, and after a few minutes began to grab all of their belongings, and slowly evacuate the building.

Then someone smelled the actual smoke and shouted it aloud, and the drill-weary crowd turned into a panicked mob. The “nurse” made sure to bump into the most highly-strung looking individuals to stoke the chaos, while she made her way to the secure neonatal unit. It was crawling with doctors, midwives, and security personnel all arguing with each other. She pushed into the crowd, and assertively took control, lifting the baby up and yelling “enough! There’s an actual fire, you can debate this later!” and walking out before anyone questioned her.

The third member of the team, dressed as an Eirian firefighter, waited for the engines to arrive and then pushed into the building, heading to the rendezvous point with the “nurse” and not being questioned in the slightest. Their plan was going perfectly so far. The “firefighter” reached the rendezvous early and awaited his colleague.

She almost arrived. The “nurse” was all of one corridor away when an arm reached out of a door and grabbed her by the throat. Someone else slipped out of the door and grabbed the baby off of her. She gasped for breath as her assailant slammed her against the wall, squeezing all the air out of her. She blinked to see Natasha Robinson, barefoot and in a hospital gown, belly still postpartum-large, trying to strangle her. Next to her, Carmen Robinson stood, holding her grandson and glaring at the “nurse”.

“I sensed something wrong,” Natasha growled as she continued to squeeze on the kidnapper’s throat. “I knew. A mother always knows.”

This, to digress, is a phrase that is widely considered taboo enough in Kerlile to almost the point of becoming anti-matriarchal speech, and yet is also widely believed across the country, as anyone familiar with the legal case against Charissa Clarke during the post-Second Lauchenoirian Civil War Truth and Reconciliation Commission could tell you. Digression over.

Regardless of the Kerlian political correctness of Natasha’s assertions, the kidnapper was slowly losing consciousness due to lack of air. Once she stopped struggling and went limp, Natasha dropped her on the ground. She waited a few moments before checking for a pulse, and nodded.

“Good, the Eirians can still interrogate the [word banned in Kerlile],” she spat at the kidnapper, and then gently took her son from her mother. “Now, is there an actual fire, or…?”

“There’s an actual fire,” Carmen said. “We should leave, but not in the direction she was heading. How did you know, in reality?”

“I didn’t lie, it was mostly intuition. That, and the button camera on Ben’s babygrow,” Natasha shrugged, tapping on the top button of her son’s outfit. It was barely noticeable as a hidden camera, perhaps because Natasha had ensured the other buttons also looked the same. “Paranoia is a gift, not a curse.”

“Perhaps,” Carmen replied, leading her daughter and grandson to a fire exit in the opposite direction to that the kidnapper had been heading towards. “In some circumstances, certainly. I know how it can eat you alive, though. But we can discuss this later.”

And the three generations of Robinsons calmly left the hospital by a fire exit and made their way to the nearest fire assembly point, via a group of police officers who they told about the unconscious kidnapper in the corridor.

[Democratic Republic Of Eiria]

Drabeceda, Geminus Province, Eiria

The man in the black jacket stood on the train platform, occasionally glancing over his shoulder at his surroundings. A few other passengers stood all in various states of boredom and tiredness. A group of teens, presumably students, stood in a close group, eyes glued to their JanMōbils. The man didn't pay much attention, though. He was more concerned about the future, specifically, what would happen to him when he reported back to his superiors.

He and his team had failed, after all. The fire at Vernceda Community Hospital, while a solid distraction, failed to remove an unexpected obstacle: the young Benjamin’s mother, Natasha Robinson. A team of three highly-trained Zongongian intelligence had their mission foiled by a mother recovering from childbirth, with one of their members in Eirian custody. The superiors weren't going to be particularly happy about this. Alas, the actual kidnapping was not his job, so if worst came to worst, the “nurse” who was tasked with actually taking the baby from the hospital could serve as a scapegoat. Still, once he arrived home, living down this mission would probably be incredibly difficult.

A bell noise played over the intercom caused the man to look at the sign above him. Okay. I take the train to Nōrdjura, get a hotel at the airport, fly to Buttercity, and then get back home. Simple. Despite having a slight worry at the back of his mind that Eirian authorities would find him before he escaped, he quickly dismissed those concerns. If they haven't found me yet, how could they? I'll disappear once I reach New Riga.

The low rumble of a commuter train drew all of the eyes in the station to the end of the platform, where said train was making its way towards them. Once it stopped, the Zongongian took a step towards the nearest set of doors, but they didn't open, much to his confusion.

“Atencōn, tut. Pōr sul drošedzi, atteniet jākapat lei trān. Darbam salabat lei prablim. Mōs ekusjit pōr lei attenēča. Attention, everyone. For your own safety, please wait to board the train. We are working to fix the problem. We apologize for the wait.”

Huh. I always thought Eirian trains were efficient. Guess that's just propaganda at its finest. Or maybe smaller lines like this just aren't maintained very well. He stepped back from the doors, adjusting his backpack (that carried the disguise he had worn in the hospital). Well, I've already waited for twenty minutes, so what's a couple more?

Suddenly, a commotion arose from the right side of the platform. Six uniformed police officers, along with a trio of Geminus Province Transit Police, climbed the stairs, scanning the platform. Shit. The Zongongian tried to act curious instead of concerned, but when the officer in front pointed him out to the others, he knew the jig was up. He turned around and sprinted towards the only other set of stairs…

…Only to run face first into the outstretched arm of one of the teens. The man’s inertia carried him forward, and he landed on his back with a groan. The other two teens had drawn pistols out from under their clothes, aiming them down at the disoriented man. The one who had stuck her arm out pulled out a badge as the police brought the man to his feet while handcuffing him. “EICA, Office of Counterintelligence Operations. You are under arrest for the arson of a vital public building and conspiracy to kidnap a minor.”

—

Ever since the tragic assasination of Cihitlina, Eirian intelligence and law enforcement agencies had upped their security for their political asylees. The Robinsons, being easily the most high-profile asylees in Eiria, had their own contingent of agents watching for threats at their homes and workplaces. So, when a fire was reported at the very hospital where Natasha Robinson had just given birth, counterintelligence agents wasted no time to sound the alarms.

The Zongongian agent, all things considered, might have been able to escape in spite of these heightened measures. However, he hit three consecutive bits of bad luck that sealed his fate to be stuck in Eirian custody.

First, Vernceda Community Hospital had recently had a series of renovations done to portions of the hospital. One of these renovations was the installation of a brand new security system, including new security cameras. One of these cameras happened to be just outside the hospital where the agent lit the fire, allowing law enforcement to send out a notice that contained a clear picture of the agent across the area.

Second, the agent knew that local law enforcement would probably be swarming the more central train stations if they even suspected an organized kidnapping. As such, he opted to leave from a station in a smaller suburb nearby, called Drabeceda. However, this gave the police critical time to work, and the alert with the spy’s face went out five minutes before he got to the station. As such, when he bought a ticket, the ticket officer notified the authorities.

Third, as Drabeceda was neither a major transit hub nor a stop on major lines, trains to and from the station were, on average, slower than the average Eirian transport train. In particular, the route to New Riga that the agent wanted to take was run by some of the slowest commuter trains still in operation in Eiria. This final factor sealed his fate, as the police task force was able to surround Drabeceda Station and notify transit operators to temporarily hold the train before it arrived at the station. At this point, almost a dozen agencies were coordinating an overwhelming force to catch the unlucky spy.

This tremendous response illustrated one thing to anyone who would oppose Eiria: No one will ever get away with harming their political asylees again.

[Lauchenoiria]

“How dare you!” the King of Zongongia shouted at his eldest son and heir. “No, don’t interrupt – I am speaking! I gave you direct orders to refrain from this course of action and you lied and told Intelligence that I approved this mission!”

Prince Kristofer sat sullenly across from his father, glaring every so often at the Zongongian intelligence agent who was standing at the side of the desk.

“Look at me while I am talking to you!” the King yelled, slamming his hand on the desk, hard. The pair of royal guards posted at the door flinched. Normally, they would have been ordered to leave before such an outburst. This time, King Osvald wanted an audience.

“DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU HAVE DONE!?” Osvald screamed at his son, picking up a stack of paperwork and throwing it at his heir. “Do you understand the position we are in after the election? After this damn scandal in the first place? To think I supported you!”

“She has my son,” Kristofer responded, sounding much calmer than his father. “I will get him back.”

“She has… rocks of BALANCE, son! The kid’s a bastard! Do you have any idea how many bastards my own father had kicking around that nobody’s ever heard of? Gods, son, half the damn country is my half-sibling! Nobody would even KNOW if you hadn’t made such a big deal of it! You gonna take a kid from a Kerlian woman? Really?”

“She’s an exile, it’s not like Kerlile will care…”

“Are you STUPID, boy!? Rocks, the Kerlians will threaten war for their mortal enemy if someone claims she was called a misogynistic slur! Kidnapping her baby? Someone who used to be one of them? Catch them on a bad day and the damned Matriarchy would NUKE us!”

“I think you’re exaggerating,” Kristofer shrugged.

“And I think you are a bumbling idiot, a liar, and not fit to run a school sports day! If Zongongian law allowed me to disinherit you, I would! Get out.”

Prince Kristofer snorted in amusement, and began to open his mouth.

“I mean it. GET OUT!” the King shouted, picking up a letter opener and brandishing it like a dagger. “Or shall I have the guards remove you?”

Kristofer looked at his father with disdain, but got to his feet and left the office without another word.

The King sat back down, gesturing for the guards to leave him alone with the spy who had watched the whole scene with keen eyes.

“Your Majesty, I do not believe this will stop him,” the spy said calmly.

“No, probably not,” the King sighed, his head in his hands. “Apologies for using that word, Jasper. I allowed my anger to get away from myself.”

“Forgiven,” Jasper shrugged. “It is merely an accurate description, my half-brother, within the context.”

“I’m sorry,” the King repeated.

“Our father may have hidden my existence, but he ensured my mother and I were provided for, which is considerably more honour than many would have had in that situation. I have made my peace with the situation. I am not sure Natasha Robinson’s son will feel the same way when he is grown.”

“Certainly not if Kristofer continues in this fashion,” Osvald agreed. “If only one could send a twenty-one-year-old to boarding school.”

“It is a pity that the tradition of Zongongian royals joining the military fell by the wayside in the nineteenth century,” Jasper mused.

“Rocks, no. He’d be plotting a coup in five minutes,” the King chuckled.

“What is your plan with him?”

“I don’t have one,” Osvald sighed. “He may still grow up. Or the Kerlians will handle the problem, I expect, if he keeps going after Natasha.”

“How callous, to allow the Kerlians to deal with it,” smirked Jasper.

“I do not want Kristofer to be hurt,” Osvald replied clearly. “But if it is him or the entire country… sacrifices must be made.”

[Lauchenoiria]

Havkantsborg, Zongongia

On this day in the year 1257, a very similar scene was playing out in Havkantsborg to that which was now taking place in 2024. A group of people were moving through the town gathering items, then stacking them at the base of the city walls for others to lift them up on top in preparation for a siege. The residents of the town hid indoors, wanting nothing to do with the events going on outside yet fearing they would be dragged into it nonetheless.

The situations were somewhat different, of course: nobody in 2024 on either side actually planned to kill anyone, unlike the feudal war of 1257 between a pair of twin princes. Boiling oil had been replaced by what smelled like (and, indeed, was) sewage water; bows and arrows had been replaced by slingshots and rotten eggs; and instead of swords or spears the town’s “defenders” were armed with anti-government placards.

Still, there were similarities. The potential for something to go horribly wrong was still there, of course: a protester in Sneedville had already died. The town was surrounded by fellow countrymen; there was a tension in the air that could be cut with a knife; and nobody exactly knew what the sunrise was going to bring. The central government was watching the town with a beady eye. Also, both situations were caused primarily because of the follies of royalty.

In 1257, Havkantsborg had been an important port city, seeing trade from all kinds of far-flung areas. Zongongia had neither been a coloniser nor colonised, but they had traded with anyone willing. The town had long since lost its city status as the requisite population to be classed as such grew and it remained stagnant or decreased. Indeed, the 2024 permanent population of the town was around half of what it had been in 1257; if the ancient records were to be relied on.

The residents of the town in 2024 were divided equally into four camps of opinion on the current situation. One quarter supported the protests and had joined; it was not solely an “occupation” by outsider students, as many claimed. A second quarter thought the whole thing stupid, and elected to ignore it as much as possible. The third set found the whole thing hilarious, and were the main source of information on what was happening in the town thanks to their social media posts. The last set, though, were those who were very thoroughly annoyed at the protesters.

They were led by the President of the Havkantsborg Tourist Board, the closest thing the town had to a political leader, all things considered. Anita Andersdatter had confronted the protesters when they first arrived. They had laughed in her face. She’d departed, gathered her employees at the Tourist Board, and found volunteers to sneak past the protesters and open a side gate to let police in. They had been caught by protesters, who promptly locked them up in the Havkantsborg Dungeon next to some fake skeletons and a plastic radio that made screaming noises at regular intervals.

The Tourist Board had continued to try and sabotage the protests, so eventually a group of protesters came to Anita’s house and dragged her to the cheesy tourist attraction dungeon too. The protesters got their hands on a list of Tourist Board employees and began trying to round them up. The group of residents who had previously ignored the situation began to drift towards the wary faction.

Meanwhile, those who found the situation amusing were continuing to broadcast the whole thing on social media, sometimes in inaccurate “medieval” costumes. They, too, would move towards the wary group when protesters stomped over to some teenagers recording and ordered them to stop or they’d take their phones. This too was broadcast; and it was after that footage that the situation began to be taken seriously.

At first, the majority considered the protesters to be engaging in an overly complex live action role play of a medieval siege. Now people, especially the authorities, were beginning to wonder just how far they would take matters. It was not like feudalism was an entirely dead ideology in the IDU in 2024 – Samara Island somehow gained independence because its feudal lord was a cat just last year! Did anyone really trust things to not actually devolve into some kind of medieval conflict?

The Zongongian government did not wish to find out. They cancelled the order for police to attempt to enter the city, and reassigned the majority of police to other areas and other protests. If they were to handle Havkantsborg, they would need a better plan. And they’d need to decide if this was indeed a police matter… or a military one.

[Lauchenoiria]

Vernceda KōpCent, Eiria

Natasha Robinson walked from the car park with Benjamin strapped to her chest followed by her security detail. Since the kidnapping, EICA had been unwilling to let the Robinson family out of their sight. This meant that her attendance at a local mothers’ group attracted considerably more security than such an event would normally require. Despite this, she had been going regularly twice a week, to both a general group and one specifically for younger mothers. She’d managed to make friends here as well as at her Eirian classes, and she looked forward to the outings away from the increasingly stuffy and overly secure family home.

That day, she was almost to the community centre entrance when a bird pooped directly in front of her, causing Natasha to automatically stop short, her speedwalk instantly turning to a hard stop. This was fortunate, as half a second after she noticed the bird poop, there was a loud crack and a projectile flew past, a centimetre from her face, lodging itself in the wall.

Many things then happened at once. The gunshot - for it was, indeed, a gunshot - was quickly followed by several others, though this time aimed in the direction from which the first came from. Naturally, this woke Benjamin up, causing him to begin wailing. Several EICA agents leaped forward to drag Natasha behind a bus shelter, and inside the community centre a cacophony of wailing babies could be heard drifting out of an open window.

Natasha sat behind the bus shelter rocking Benjamin as the chaos erupted, allowing denial to briefly cloud her acknowledgement of the situation in favour of focusing on her baby. She took a deep breath to steady her own breathing, half listening to the EICA agents tell her that the initial assailant was “down” and they were checking he was alone. But between her rocking of Ben, and her growing sheer fury with Kristofer, she barely heard.

*

Royal Palace, Zongongia

Prince Kristofer sat in the dark room with several of the mercenaries he had hired after his father cut off his access to official Zongongian agents. They met in a disused basement in a palace storage outbuilding that was last used for anything beyond throwing boxes inside around the year 1894. His father had restricted his movements outside the palace and this was the only place they could meet undisturbed.

“When will we know?” he snapped at one of the mercenaries.

“Patience,” she sneered, sharpening a knife. A skull tattoo bulged on her muscled arm, under which were words in a script Kristofer could not read.

“What does it mean?” he pointed at the tattoo.

“Only in death is freedom won,” she replied, her expression unchanging.

“Cheery,” he mumbled, regretting asking. “Come on, you must have some idea!”

“Do us a favour and get us more food,” one of the other mercenaries, a scrawny man who specialised in hacking, said.

“I am the Crown Prince of Zongongia, and you do not get to speak to me like that!” Kristofer snapped imperiously.

“You’re an abandoned baby daddy hiding in a basement trying to murder his ex,” the tattooed woman remarked. “Titles don’t mean shit to us.”

Kristofer saw red and moved to slap the woman. Casually, she grabbed his wrist mid swing, had him against the wall and a knife at his throat. Her breathing remained as steady as it had been standing still.

“Listen, Prince,” she began, “you want this kept from the ears of Daddy Majesty, so you don’t get to use your titles. We work how we work, and if you can’t deal, go dance at a ball or something and come back later.”

He snarled, but she kept still and eventually he had no choice but to allow his expression to go sullen and silent. She moved the knife and he stormed out of the room.

*

Kerlian Intelligence HQ, Kerlile

“Ma’am, look at this,” a Kerlian analyst said to her passing superior. The woman turned, tucking her stack of paperwork under her arm and watched the satellite footage on the screen. It was grainy and low quality, as befit a live feed from a surveillance satellite. From above, it showed people running across a street with guns towards what seemed to be a newly created corpse.

“What is this?” the supervisor asked.

“Eiria, ma’am, Natasha Robinson. The Eirians jumped and began to shoot at the figure on the bottom-right of the screen. I believe it was an assassination attempt.”

“Natasha?”

“Appears fine,” the analyst replied.

“Where is this exactly?”

“Community centre; it hosts a mothers’ group Natasha attends.”

“A mothers’ group? The Zongongians - I presume - sent an assassin to a mothers’ group?”

“Conjecture, ma’am, but most likely yes.”

“Fools,” the other Kerlian agent burst into laughter, attracting attention from the other analysts in the room wondering what their boss found so funny. “They’ll have every damned democracy, patriarchal and otherwise, at their throats. Not to mention what the Council will do when they hear of this. Get me actual facts, Agent.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

[Lauchenoiria]

I’ll make you happy, baby

 

“We have to call an election,” Kristensen said glumly as they left the helicopter, taking shelter with the Royal Family in the palace – the only place in the country the security services believed was sufficiently defendable from their own citizenry.
 
“I agree, it’s the only way to prevent this from slipping over into civil war,” Eliassen agreed, nodding nervously as if a protester was about to jump out from hiding behind a pebble. Tomasson just nodded, trailing along. He was the least important partner in the coalition, and had become nothing more than a yes man.
 
“Rocks… well, I’ll call the media and get it over with. At least this way they won’t literally kill us. I expect the general public will be pleased.”

 

Just wait and see

 

The betting shops in Zongongia, as well as in several other nations where they thought people would have any interest, were already quickly calculating the odds of victory for each party as soon as the election was announced. They, of course, had ongoing data but so much had happened over the last 24 hours to affect it. Several of the executives at these companies were blinking at their computers or their statisticians and asking them if they were quite sure the calculations were correct. Yes, they would respond.
 
The bookies were nervous. If they trusted their systems, they ought to accept what was in front of them. But with money on the line, and such seemingly impossible predictions, not all of them were willing to put their trust in the idea that Zongongians would turn their backs on a hundred years of history. The odds published online were more conservative than the statistics suggested. The statisticians pursed their lips in annoyance.

 

For every kiss you give me

 

The King and Queen of Zongongia were waiting to greet their guests from the parliament. The Queen had been very quiet about this whole affair, preferring to hide in the background than stick her neck out to verbally defend her husband or son from all the allegations. It had led to some criticism from their supporters in parliament.
 
“Dear, why don’t I do this alone?” King Osvald suggested. The Queen merely nodded and stood to leave. Osvald took her hand and gave it a quick kiss; to which she smiled slightly before turning and exiting the throne room.

 

I’ll give you three

 

Fifteen minutes later, the Queen was in her private, unshared bedchamber with her lady’s maid. They were both naked. And in the bed. And certainly not sleeping.

 

Oh, since the day I saw you

 

“That bitch!” Prince Kristofer spat, kicking a table over. “She fooled us all! This is all a Kerlian plot, I’m telling you! LET ME OUT!” he screamed, throwing an already-broken chair at the door. His father had ordered him locked in his room after the assassin incident. No visitors other than immediate family.
 
There was no response to his tantrum.
 
“When I’m king, I’ll have you all EXECUTED!” he screamed through the door at the guards, kicking the door again for good measure. He leaned back against the door and surveyed his trashed room. If only he had never laid eyes on Natasha Robinson, this could all have been avoided.

 

I have been waiting for you

 

In an unmarked office building in an unnamed city, a hand was writing on a chalkboard, doing calculations. The owner of the hand looked back at their work every so often, going in to make corrections. Eventually, they nodded, satisfied, and placed the piece of chalk back down gently as they went to make their report.

 

You know I will adore you

 

Natasha Robinson kissed Benjamin on the head as he fed from her breast as her own mother handed her a cup of herbal tea and she watched her sister playing games on her phone across the room. She felt a warm safety. She had no regrets.

 

Til eternity

 

Or not. Did you really think it would end there?
 

The story of the Robinsons will continue in Echoes of a Hidden Past.

The story of Zongongia will continue on September 12th, Election Day.