[Lauchenoiria]

Royal Palace, Zongongia
5am, 8th July 2021

Natasha Robinson sat in the gardens, a blanket pulled around her shoulders to keep her warm against the cold early morning breeze. She couldn’t sleep without medicinal help these days, and she hated taking the pills. Every time she was asleep she dreamed she was with her mother in a Kerlian prison and about to die. She needed to keep a bucket by her bed for the vomit when she woke up. So rather than sleep, she would wander the gardens at night, the cold distracting her from her fear for her mother.

“You’re going to get hypothermia, you know,” came a voice from behind her and she jumped, pulling the tiny knife she carried and pointing it at her would-be attacker.

Prince Kristofer, second-in-line to the Zonongian throne stood behind her, a grin spreading across his face as he eyed the little weapon. “I’d recommend putting that away before the guards all rush in here,” he suggested.

Blushing, Natasha tucked the knife away and sat back down on the rock she’d been using as a chair before his appearance. “I would rather die at the hand of the cold than the hand of my country’s government,” she replied. He sat down next to her on the adjacent rock and turned to her, the grin still on his face.

“See, I don’t think you want to die at all,” he said. “Else you wouldn’t be so afraid of them. If it matters, you’re safe here. Zongongia is a mountainous country; we’re difficult to invade and this place was built back when playing capture-the-castle was every noble’s favourite activity.”

He gestured at the palace grounds, which were built atop centuries of Zongongian royal castles. They were high in the mountains, hence the cold wind that permeated the palace, but Natasha couldn’t deny that it would be a difficult location to attack. Even a single assassin would struggle to sneak in; every approach was easily monitored and there was only one road up to the palace. If she had to hide from the Council of Kerlile, it was a good choice of location. Still.

“If I go back to Kerlile they’ll kill me,” she told the Prince without moving or looking at him. “But that’s not what I’m worried about. It’s easy to not go to Kerlile; most people have done it for a century. I do not want them to execute my mother; I do not want to be alone and responsible for my little sister; I do not want to be Councillor-in-exile and expected to do something about this whole mess. Things were supposed to be better now.”

“Ah,” sighed Kristofer, “people always say that, but it is rarely true. We’ve spent the last few decades here in relative isolation, keeping out of our neighbour’s squabbles, but in September we have elections and following that scandal it looks like the parties who wish to end that state of affairs will have a landslide. Unlike in your Kerlile, where the Council rules, my grandfather can’t actually do anything. So, we’re beholden to the whims of the people, and things will always change. For better or for worse.”

“I actually think democracy is a good thing, your Highness,” retorted Natasha, folding her arms and turning to look at him. “The people have a right to choose their own leaders, and I was hoping that one day soon Kerlians would have that opportunity. Don’t you dare tell me you want more power for your monarchy!”

The Prince’s grin grew even wider. “Knew I could make you react. No, I don’t want more power, that just sounds stressful. But it strikes me that your Kerlile’s reform lasted all of five minutes before the bad Councillors clamped down again. If you really want to change things there, then you might have to actually do something, as you so succinctly expressed disdain for earlier.”

“I’m not going to start a civil war in Kerlile,” she said primly, frowning. “War does not solve anything. And if you think I am going to ally with you if your wish is to invade Kerlile, you can think again. I will not partake in such an enterprise.”

“Always so quick to accuse others of imperial ambitions,” he chuckled. “Trust me, we’re perfectly content with our little corner of the world. Everywhere else is far too chaotic. Well, I suppose if Lauchenoiria was to declare war on us we might well take back that little bit of our territory they stole a few centuries ago,” he teased.

Natasha rolled her eyes. “I haven’t spent much time around males before this. Are you all so insufferable or is that only princes?”

“Ah, of course, you grew up in Kerlile. You have not been exposed to the wonder of interaction between the sexes,” he grinned, then reached out and took her hand, pulling her to her feet. “Perhaps I can teach you.”

She pulled her hand out of his and stepped back. “We are cousins, Your Highness. Any such relations between us would be inappropriate.”

“We’re fourth cousins at best,” he snorted in response. “My parents were third cousins; closer than you and I. It’s just the way things are here. We’re not Kerlile.”

“I’m fairly certain that Kerlile is, for once, the more normative society in this regard,” Natasha remarked. “I have studied other cultures and I’m fairly certain that your issue is what they refer to as ‘inbreeding’ and was a major problem amongst nobility in feudal times. Apparently stretching to today.”

“Ah, well, when royalty marries outside of the nobility, it causes a scandal,” he grinned at her. “As your ancestors knew fine well.”

It was a mistake. Natasha immediately closed off, picking up her blanket and turning away from him. Before, she had been teasing him, friendly banter, but she didn’t take well to mentions of her great-great-grandmother’s exile. The fact that Prince Kristofer thought it an appropriate topic to joke about, rather than a racist miscarriage of justice that the Zongongian royals should be apologising for, said much about him. Natasha was fooling herself if she considered for a moment he was anything better than his own forebears.

“You’re right, I’m cold,” Natasha said flatly. “Goodnight, Prince.”

Then she turned on her heels and stalked back towards the entrance of the guest residential quarters as Kristofer realised what he’d said and kicked himself, calling after her to no avail. The Prince groaned and put his head in his hands. He liked Natasha Robinson; she was the only girl he knew who didn’t fawn over him and come across as fake. But Natasha Robinson was also an enigma, and one he was utterly failing to understand.