[Lauchenoiria]

PREVIOUSLY in the IDU…
 
“Prince Kristofer would like to invite you to attend this evening’s dinner in the Sunflower Room at seven o’clock,” the servant informed her and then walked away. (This Damage Won’t Heal, 28 Mar 2021)
 
*
 
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.” (This Damage Won’t Heal, 8 Jul 2021)
 
*
 
"You'll be stripped of your title," she continued, "and your position on the Council. But I've asked for leniency. The punishment for treason is torture and death but I don't want you dead. I want this to end. You saved them, you sacrificed your own life to save them. And now I'll save you. I'll help you, you can go and be with your daughters in Zongongia. I'm sorry, Carmen. I've been wrong for so long." (Echoes of a Hidden Past, 23 May 2022)
 

---

PRESENT DAY
 
Prince Kristofer of Zongongia was nervous. It was not an emotion he was accustomed to, especially over something so small as a meeting with his father. Sure, his father was the King, but in a constitutional monarchy it was a ceremonial role, and they’d always had a good relationship. Still, the matter which he wished to raise with his father was one he could not predict the reaction to.
 
“He is ready for you now, your highness,” a servant bowed, opening the door to his father’s rooms. Kristofer nodded and made his way inside.
 
“Hey son,” the King said from his chair. These were his private rooms, not somewhere for a public audience, and the chairs were much more comfortable in here. The King was bent over a document in a language Kristofer couldn’t read.
 
“More language lessons?” Kristofer asked, sitting down next to his father.
 
“Not quite,” the King chuckled. “Here, what do you make of this? It’s a copy of writing found in an archaeological dig site down in Lauchenoiria. All their finds are public and I asked for a copy. It’s curious.”
 
“I don’t know, looks like old writing to me,” the Prince shrugged.
 
“Well of course it is!” laughed King Osvald. “No, the interesting part is what it isn’t. It isn’t the alphabet we expect to find in Costenan sites. This is much closer to proto-Huenyan than proto-Spanish. It’s intriguing.”
 
“I’ll take your word for it. Listen, dad, we need to talk about something.”
 
“Sure, son, what is it?”
 
“I’m 20 years old now, and I know that my generation are a bit late to these things, but in our family it’s important because of, you know, and anyway I… well, I think I know who I want to marry. And I want to propose to her now.”
 
“Are you sure, son? I’ll support whatever decision you make, but you don’t need to rush into things in this day and age,” said the King, patting his son’s leg.
 
“I know, but I love her, dad. I love her so much. But, well, there’s a complication.”
 
“Hey,” his dad said, turning to face his son directly. “Listen, if it’s because she’s a commoner, it will be awkward, but I think we’ve progressed enough to make it work. We’ll just have to be careful with the media.”
 
“No, no, that’s not it. No, she’s much closer to our family than that.”
 
“Ah. You fear an incest scandal. A first cousin will be very difficult, a second one less so, but it will still…”
 
“Can you just let me finish please?” the Prince interrupted. The King gestured for him to continue.
 
“She’s not a commoner, or a first cousin. She’s a… fourth or fifth cousin I think. But, like, here’s the thing: it’s Natasha Robinson. The Kerlian.”
 
The King froze, staring at his son. Prince Kristofer elected to stare back, attempting to appear defiant, but his nervousness showed in his eye.
 
“Oh son,” the King sighed eventually. “This one is going to be very difficult indeed.”

[Lauchenoiria]

Royal Palace, Zongongia

Carmen Robinson always wore gloves these days. Regardless of the weather, regardless of if she was indoors or out. She even slept in them. Anyone familiar with Kerlian policies would understand why; but among those ignorant of the consequences of the Kerlian Civil War, rumours spread that she was scared of touching males and that’s why she wore them while she was in Zongongia.

She also moved slowly. She’d spent almost a year in the Restricted Region. Some scars would not ever heal; both physical and mental. Sometimes when she moved, pain would just shoot through her joints for seemingly no reason. And she had nightmares. Her room was carpeted, but there were two rugs, one on top of the other, next to her bed for when she fell out of it while panicking in the night.

Very few prisoners sent to the Restricted Region made it out alive. After the ordeal of it; Carmen sometimes wondered if that wasn’t a blessing in disguise. Was it even possible for someone to recover from this? Or was life after just prolonging the suffering in the form of memories? She no longer knew.

“Mum!” came Imogen’s voice as the door opened again. “Natasha’s out horse riding with that prince again. I thought you said you’d talk to her?”

“Good morning, Imogen,” Carmen said from where she sat, near her bed. It took her a while in the morning before she was brave enough to venture far. Imogen had grown up since they had parted on that fateful March morning in 2021. She was now eleven, and very angry at being exiled from Kerlile. The idea of her sister hanging out with the Crown Prince of Zongongia angered her greatly.

“Well? Did you speak to her?” Imogen demanded again.

“No, Imogen,” Carmen sighed. “Your sister is eighteen now. She is an adult, and can make her own choices about who to ride horses with.”

“Horses stink anyway,” Imogen grumbled, sitting down on Carmen’s bed. “And one of the boys told me I belonged in the kitchen again!”

“They’re only saying that to wind you up. They don’t really believe it.”

“Are you so sure? And besides, it’s still clearly misogynistic behaviour!” Imogen whined. A Kerlian child could talk about ‘misogyny’ and ‘patriarchy’ by the time they started school. The other kids her age in Zongongia were less familiar with the terms.

“Which, while annoying, is not a crime here,” her mother pointed out.

“Well it should be!” Imogen shouted, standing up. “Why’d you do all this stupid reform business anyway? Men are CLEARLY still evil!”

Imogen kicked the bedpost and then stormed out of the room, slamming the (old, very heavy, and nearly twice her size) door behind her. Carmen sighed and made herself stand up and try to go after her very angry daughter. But by the time Carmen had got to the door, Imogen was out of sight.

*

“You’re much better at this than you were when you came here,” shouted Kristofer at Natasha as they raced their horses along the mountain track.

“You’re a good teacher!” she shouted back, laughing as she pulled considerably ahead of him.

Once it transpired that Natasha did not know how to ride a horse, Prince Kristofer had decided to teach her. They’d started lessons every other day, first in barns and enclosed fields, and then when Natasha became more confident, he showed her the mountain trails he loved so much. Over this, they had bonded – this, and many evenings drinking and making fun of the other noble teens.

Natasha spurred her horse on as they began to approach the line of hedges they’d designated as the finish line. At the last possible second, however, Kristofer appeared as if out of nowhere and passed her to finish first.

“Come on! How do you do that?” Natasha groaned, while catching her breath. “Every time!”

“A magician never reveals his secrets,” Kristofer said, grinning. “Anyway, we should get back. Aren’t your Kerlian co-conspirators arriving today?”

“Xia is, yes. Olivia and Reena are still in the hospital, and Rosemary and Carolyn returned to Kerlile yesterday,” Natasha sighed. “Which was foolish, but they never listen to my advice. I am, after all, the youngest.”

“Well, I managed to talk Dad into telling the Prime Minister that they could stay here for as long as they like,” the Crown Prince said. “From what I heard, the Prime Minister wasn’t happy about it, so I would advise you to refrain from attacking Kerlile while here.”

“You do realise starting a civil war is the last thing we want?” Natasha pointed out. Kristofer grinned in response, indicating he was trying to wind her up. She rolled her eyes.

“Do you think Councillor Arnott and the Greenwood heir will be safe?” Kristofer asked as they began riding back to the palace.

“Rosemary probably will be,” Natasha replied. “None of them want to harm another Councillor after the whole thing with my mother. It sets a bad precedent. Carolyn, I’m not so sure of. Her mother will probably beat her at minimum.”

“Rocks, I’ll never understand Kerlile,” Kristofer said, shaking his head.

“We’ll find out,” Natasha said. “One way or the other, and probably sooner than any of us would like.”

The prince shook his head once more at the chaos of Kerlian politics, and they rode in comfortable silence back to the palace. Now, clearly, was not the right time to ask the question he truly wanted to know the answer to.

[Lauchenoiria]

Royal Palace, Zongongia

The King of Zongongia was hardly used to fearing a conversation. He had little official duties beyond ceremony, and most conversations he had were either pleasant or, at worst, boring. As such, he was unused to the emotions he felt at this moment. He kept trying to make himself go to Carmen Robinson’s rooms to discuss his son’s… desire. And each and every time, he chickened out and walked away.

In truth, he feared her reaction. He did not quite understand Kerlians; no man ever could. He knew, however, that if the Robinsons had not been exiled, that Natasha would have been legally unable to marry Kristofer. And so, to even ask the question was to remind the former Councillor of Kerlile of her situation. Given that her situation involved permanent exile after almost a year of being tortured… he was in no hurry to do so.

He’d asked his son to hold off on any proposal until he gauged whether or not this would even be possible. Prince Kristofer had stubbornly refused to be talked out of the whole thing. He was deeply in love. As much as the situation made King Osvald nervous and uncertain, he did not want to deny his son true love, if there was any way to do this without causing an international crisis.

Once again, he raised his hand as if to knock on Carmen’s door, and then froze. Unfortunately for him, Carmen chose that very moment to open the door. The pair stared at each other for a second, until Osvald coughed and lowered his arm.

“Good morning,” he said to the former Councillor.

“Good morning, your majesty. I was just off to get breakfast. Did you need something?” Carmen asked smoothly. She seemed calm and collected at the moment, which was a good thing. He’d had reports from the servants that sometimes she would, well, scream and cry for hours; her mind far away. Such things were to be expected, in her situation, of course.

“Ah, yes, I was hoping we could… I was hoping we could talk in private?” he asked. She seemed to notice his nervousness, and adopted a mildly quizzical expression.

“Of course, your majesty,” Carmen said, stepping aside and gesturing for him to pass. He took a deep breath and did so.

Carmen’s rooms were very well-lit. She had all the curtains drawn back, and an excessive number of lamps dotted around. Evidently, she did not enjoy darkness. The King sat down on one of the armchairs by the windows, and Carmen sat opposite him, watching him with curiosity.

“Carmen…” he began, then trailed off, uncertain what to say.

“Is something wrong, your majesty?” she asked.

“You don’t need to keep calling me that,” he chuckled. “Oh, I should just get this over with. Uh, your daughter Natasha.”

“Has she been pushing teenagers in fountains again for being racist? Because, while I have warned her about this, I am also not happy about the racism itself.”

“No, nothing like that. Uh, you know my son, Prince Kristofer?”

“Oh Goddess, she didn’t push him in a fountain, did she?”

“No, no! I’m sorry, I’m not very good at this. The difference between Zongongian and Kerlian tradition in this matter is making things… confusing. So, I apologise if this is overly blunt, but: Kristofer would like to propose to Natasha.”

The silence stretched seemingly forever. Then eternity ended, and Carmen burst into hysterical laughter. “Oh Goddess, that is not what I expected! You do realise that… ah, EUDCA no longer applies. Still, the idea of Natasha marrying… that is truly hilarious.”

“Um, I take it that means you oppose the idea?”

“Oppose it? That assumes such a thing would even be possible! I’m sorry,” Carmen tried to compose herself. “Natasha is eighteen. And Kerlian. There is no way she would accept a proposal from, no offence, a foreign male.”

“That is unfortunate,” the King said softly. “Kristofer will be disappointed. He believes they are in love with each other.”

“They may well be,” Carmen replied. “Natasha still has not given up hope that the Council will rescind their exile. If she marries any foreign male, that would end that chance permanently. And the Crown Prince of Zongongia? Again, I mean no offence, but such a thing could very well attract the ire of the Council’s assassins.”

That worried the King. The idea of Kerlian assassins coming – especially after the mailroom incident – to attack members of the Royal Family frightened him. For his life and family, and also for the security of his country. He thanked Carmen for listening, and quickly made his way out of the room, his mind spinning. What, exactly, could he do now?

[Lauchenoiria]

Robinson Rooms, Royal Palace, Zongongia

“Mum, who was my father?”

Carmen Robinson almost spat out her tea at Natasha’s question. It was something of a taboo for a Daughter of the Council to ask – not that Natasha held that title any longer. If you didn’t come from a family which kept the father around illegally, most Daughters never discovered the answer to that question, and often it went unasked.

“Why do you ask?” Carmen replied after she managed to prevent herself choking on her tea and biscuits.

“All the others can trace both sides of their family back to pre-Founding,” Natasha shrugged, using the Kerlian term for prior to 1924. “The other teenagers here, I mean.”

“Zongongian nobility, you mean,” Carmen sighed. “You and Imogen were both conceived via IVF from a sperm donor. I neither wished to use some man who wouldn’t be allowed to stick around, nor endanger him through the other route. If you want to discover his lineage to impress that gaggle of overdressed fools, you’ll have to contact Council Family Services. If they’ll take your call.”

“Were we from the same donor? Imogen and me?”

“I don’t know, Natasha,” Carmen shook her head. “I wanted to know as little as I possibly could, given the circumstances. I was born into my mother’s plans, the ones that led to, well, this. Anyone associated with me would be in danger.”

“Great,” Natasha said sarcastically. “So, my father could’ve been anyone from anywhere.”

This was indeed true. Natasha was as mixed-race as one could get. It was another reason why she was trying so desperately to fit in with the Zongongian noble teenagers who hung around the Palace like moths to a flame. They were, for the most part, vain and selfish beings whose ideas of gender relations were probably not dissimilar to those of the pre-Founding ancestors they could name so easily. They were also racist, as much as the Zongongian monarchy was using the Robinsons to seem like they weren’t.

“Natasha, why does it matter so much?” Carmen asked, exasperated at the way her daughter had begun to behave since their exile from Kerlile. “Is this about that prince of yours? How serious is your relationship?”

“Mum, I like Kristofer,” Natasha stood up, slamming down her empty teacup and pacing over to the window. “Why do you disapprove so much?”

“Natasha, I have nothing against Kristofer the person,” Carmen pushed herself up with difficulty, though it was easier every day, and went to stand next to her daughter. “But he is the Crown Prince. Any long-term relationship with such a person in this country would be unlike anything that exists in Kerlile. There’s no way you could cohabit without marriage for one thing; and in marriage you would be expected to take his name, dress up like the others every single day, and act like, well.”

“The opposite of a Kerlian, you mean,” Natasha laughed. “Mother, you are the chief reformist; or were, anyway. Why do you care if I take a man’s name, wear makeup daily, and act like a good patriarchal wife?”

“Is this some kind of teenage rebellion?” Carmen scoffed. “You know fine well that reform isn’t about bringing back the patriarchy. Or have you been reading Women’s Party propaganda for entertainment? I listen to you talk like this and worry that I picked the wrong side, sometimes! If this is what we’re up against, perhaps Kerlile does indeed need the supposed guidance of the Council!”

“I don’t think I’m the one who’s been reading propaganda,” Natasha replied.

“Daughter,” Carmen snapped finally. “Do you honestly think Zongongians would accept a Kerlian as Queen? Because Kristofer will be King one day. If you marry him, you’ll both end up getting strung up by an angry republican mob.”

“This isn’t the nineteenth century,” Natasha laughed. “But whatever.”

Then, she turned and walked away out of her mother’s rooms and along to her own down the hallway that she now shared with Camille Pierre. She entered her en-suite bathroom, locked the door, checked the lock, and then reached up on top of the cabinet behind the mirror. She pulled down the pregnancy test again, with its positive markings, and stared at it for a long time.

*

King’s Meeting Room, Royal Palace, Zongongia

“What would you have me do, Prime Minister?” the King of Zongongia asked Ivan Kristensen.

“You have seven Kerlians here, one of whom is pregnant. There is an eighth in hospital, in a coma recovering from,” he looked down at his notes, “being tortured by her own mother. Surely you understand that this situation is untenable. It was one thing when it was the Robinson trio, but now we have a pregnant Xia Chiu plus two children, and a loose thirteen-year-old Pierre officially in the care of the just-turned-eighteen Natasha. Do you think it will end here? This is becoming the go-to place for Kerlian political exiles.”

“The majority of those ‘political exiles’ are, I will remind you, children. Would you truly consider deporting them back to Kerlile? What about the boy? He’s a Lauchenoirian citizen, but his mother and sister are not. Would you send a two-year-old to Lauchenoiria alone?” the King asked.

“You know fine well that’s not what I’m asking!” Kristensen snapped. “I’m already hearing rumours that your eldest son, the Crown Prince, is infatuated with Natasha Robinson. I hope for your sake they are false. We both know that won’t look good. It’s beginning to look like Republic Now! Will win seats in September’s election.”

“Is that a threat, Prime Minister?” the King asked, but he chuckled, shaking his head to indicate that he intended it as a joke. “Look, I understand that more Kerlians is a political problem. Still, there’s nothing we can do. I don’t think we need to worry about a flood; the only other Kerlian likely to join them is Olivia Pierre. It will be fine.”

“Fine,” sighed Kristensen. “Keep your Kerlian collection. But on your own head be it!”

*

Royal Stables, Zongongia

Eight-year-old Jia Chiu was recounting the story of how she managed to successfully flee Kerlile on horseback accompanied by a toddler to Imogen Robinson and Camille Pierre, with added demonstrations as she groomed her horse. The pair had already heard this story several times by now, but Jia was still surprised she pulled it off.

“And then we crossed the border and the Zongongians jumped up and out of the way. They thought it was a wild horse at first but then they saw me and Cheung. Then they pulled out their guns, then they saw we were kids and put them away, and then I showed them our passports and then they…”

“Quick, hide!” Imogen said suddenly, pulling Camille into the stall with them, closing over the door and ducking down.

“What are we hiding from?” Jia whispered. She did as instructed however. Given her recent experiences, such a command was one to be heeded. Just in case.

“Males,” Imogen hissed. “Teenage male humans.”

“Um, okay,” Jia said. Camille rolled her eyes and went to get up, but Imogen pulled her back down.

“You haven’t been here long, Jia, so let me educate you,” Imogen whispered, keeping an iron grip on Camille’s arm. “Everything you were taught in Kerlile is true, kind of. The patriarchy is real, and it is alive. It is here, all around us. They make comments. They expect us to dress up fancy and wear a different thing every day. They don’t make girls clothes with pockets. Stay away from the males!”

“Um, isn’t your mum a huge reformist?” Jia asked.

“Let me tell you a story,” Imogen said.

“Let go, you’re hurting me,” Camille hissed. The thirteen-year-old was still recovering from her Alt-Ed ordeal and the last thing she wanted to hear was Kerlian propaganda.

“The King has a son my age: his third son; fifth kid. He’s the most annoying boy to ever exist. He pulls my hair all the time. When I told the tutor, he laughed at me and replied with ‘that just means he likes you’! That is literally on the list of phrases warned about in the Kerlian Foreign Travel Guide! And also, when the boys run around and get dirty, the adults don’t care, but if a girl has so much as a speck of dust on her clothes she gets told off. I really, really wish I could go back to Kerlile.”

Imogen burst into tears all of a sudden, finally letting go of Camille, who fell back onto the hay. The teenager groaned, looking at the crying eleven-year-old and unsure what to do in this situation.

“Hey, Imogen, it’s okay,” Jia said, hugging the older girl. Camille could only watch. Anything she could possibly say would only make matters worse. Camille despised the Matriarchy, and the thought that Imogen wanted to go back disgusted her. So, she stood up and quietly slipped out of the stall while Jia tried to comfort Imogen.

About ten minutes later, Imogen managed to stop crying when Jia distracted her by getting her to help groom the horse. Imogen had no idea what she was doing, as horses were more her sister’s area. It took a while, and then they cleaned up and walked back to the Chiu rooms. Xia and Cheung weren’t present: she had another hospital appointment about her pregnancy and had taken the toddler. Jia went into the bathroom to wash while Imogen waited by the window.

When Imogen heard the shower switch on, she pulled out her old Kerlian phone that she’d charged up several days ago. She looked at it again, still undecided about whether or not she would send the message she was considering. She stared, but when the shower went off, she quickly hid the phone away again and stared out of the window, thinking.

[Lauchenoiria]

Imogen Robinson ran along the path as quickly as she could. She needed to get away before one of the princes went back to tell their father what happened. Unfortunately, she didn’t know exactly where she was going – and she was being chased.

“Get back here you little Kerlian spy!” yelled Prince Jacob, the third son and fifth child of King Osvald. He was joined by Camille Pierre. Imogen was already getting tired, but the pair following her would not let up. The other brother, Albert, who was Jia’s age, would already be back at the Palace telling the adults. She had to keep running. She had to get away!

*

Earlier

Natasha Robinson sat on the floor of her bathroom, hugging the toilet as her stomach lurched again. She was going to have to do something about her condition soon. Tell somebody. Before it became obvious either way.

Knock, knock.

“Shit,” Natasha whispered to herself, quickly pulling herself up and flushing the previous evidence of her morning sickness down the drain. She grabbed her toothbrush and quickly ran toothpaste over her teeth, not to fully clean but merely to replace the smell with mint. Then, steeling her stomach and stubbornly telling it not now, she opened the door to find her mother, arms folded, staring at her in concern.

“I am not so foolish as to be unaware of what is going on, Natasha,” Carmen said. “You’re pregnant.”

Natasha turned red and looked away, unsure of how to respond.

“I’m not angry at you,” Carmen said softly, reaching out to take her daughter’s hand. “What kind of Kerlian would I be if I got angry at you? But, darling, the Zongongians…”

“Yeah I know,” Natasha sighed, allowing her mother – who was now moving easily and without pain thanks to all the work of the private physiotherapists they’d hired since her release from the hell of the Restricted Region – to guide her out of the bathroom into the sitting area of Natasha’s suite.

“Is it Kristofer’s?” Carmen asked. Natasha nodded. “I’m sure you know how complicated that makes matters,” Carmen replied.

“That’s why I don’t know what to do!” Natasha said, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. “Either I have to marry him, or listen to a bunch of misogynists call my baby a royal bastard. And it’s not like I can get an abortion; it’s only legal here if there’s some birth defect or something.”

“Shhh,” Carmen cautioned. “You think they haven’t been watching us this whole time?”

Natasha went quiet, glancing around as if she would be able to suddenly make out any hidden cameras. There was nothing indicating surveillance, though that did not mean it was not there.

“You have several options,” Carmen whispered. “One, you marry him like you were considering several weeks ago.”

“Mum, I was just winding you up, I don’t want to be a brainless princess in a ballgown with whatever they wear instead of corsets these days!” Natasha said, on the verge of panic.

“Two, we leave here and go to some other country. Regardless of whether or not you decide to keep the baby. The Zongongians, they have been very hospitable. But I know their limits, and I know how our family ended up exiled in the first place, as do you. If I am being totally honest, I’m not sure they’d allow him to marry you anyway.”

Natasha nodded, trying to keep herself calm. “We need to leave then,” she said. “What about the others?”

“The King has no reason to shelter the others if we leave,” Carmen spoke bluntly. “Either they return or they come with us. The Chiu group will probably be fine if they return; we can take Camille with us. Reena… what’s her status?”

“She’s still in a coma, there’s no way we can move her across a border,” Natasha shook her head.

“It’s okay, let me work something out,” Carmen said. “The important thing is that the Zongongians don’t find out until we’re gone. I don’t know what they’d do. So, let’s keep this between the two of us for now.”

Natasha nodded.

*

Imogen slipped back into the passageway she’d been using to spy on her sister. The Royal Palace of Zongongia was old enough that one could find secret passages (well, disused old servants’ corridors) if one looked hard enough. And Imogen, tired of living within the patriarchal world, intended to buy her way back to Kerlile, with information.

Her sister was pregnant with the Crown Prince’s baby. Imogen wrinkled her face in disgust, even though there was nobody around to see her. The very notion that her own sister would see fit to reproduce with that sorry excuse for a prince out of one of the horror stories from her childhood made her feel nauseous herself. That was how she knew she was doing the right thing, for herself and her family, and her country. The rest of her family were certainly guilty of treason against the Matriarchy, but Imogen would redeem them.

*

Unknown to Imogen, she was in turn being spied on by a suspicious Camille Pierre, who had seen the eleven-year-old’s pro-Kerlile outburst in the stables. Camille had been tasked with looking after Jia and Cheung Chiu while their mother was once again at a check-up about her own further-along pregnancy; but Camille had left Cheung with Jia. In her mind, anyone old enough to flee a country on their own was old enough to be left in charge.

Camille trailed after Imogen from a distance as the other girl made her way to her rendezvous with one of the cleaners who, Camille deduced, must be a Kerlian spy. They’d just turned the corner to the kitchens when Camille felt herself grabbed, hand over her mouth, and pulled into a closet. She tried to scream, but a voice stopped her.

“Why are you following Imogen?” came the voice of Prince Jacob, curious. She’d become something of an uneasy… not friend, more like ally, to the younger prince in her time here after Camille and Imogen had fought rather publicly. The enemy of my enemy.

“I’m just bored,” Camille lied when he moved his hand.

“Liar,” came a voice from the shadows which revealed itself to be Jacob’s younger brother Albert. “She was spying on her sister, and you’re spying on her, and we’re spying on you, and there’s no way this is because you’re ‘bored’,” the eight-year-old mocked her Kerlian accent.

“It’s none of your business,” Camille hissed, trying to leave. Jacob’s grip on her arm tightened.

“Tell us, or we will take you to Father’s security and you can explain why you are sneaking around old servants’ corridors to them,” Jacob growled.

Camille bit her lip. The head of security for the King of Zongongia was a scary man. His eyes seemed to pierce her soul, and he reminded her of the sorts of people her mother used to be friends with. The kind who enjoyed inflicting pain. She sighed, bowing her head and speaking in a monotone. “I think she’s selling information to Kerlile.”

The two boys looked at each other, and then at Camille. Jacob turned to Albert first. “Go and tell father immediately.” The younger boy ran off. Then Jacob squeezed Camille’s arm hard enough to hurt.

“Help me catch her, or I’ll tell Father you were in on it,” he hissed at her, and she believed him. Then he took off after Imogen, dragging her along. She had no choice but to help him. She didn’t know how Zongongia worked. She didn’t know what the consequences would be if she disobeyed.

*

Imogen had just handed a memory card from her recorder to her contact when the angry prince came barrelling towards her alongside Camille Pierre. The adult she was with melted into shadows immediately, leaving Imogen to face them alone.

“Spy!” Jacob yelled, pointing at her. “Stay there! Albert is fetching Father! This will be better if you don’t run!”

She didn’t listen, taking off in the direction of the footpath down the mountain. She didn’t know where she was going, all she knew was away from here. Both Jacob and Camille followed her, shouting at her to stop as she kept going, desperate to flee.

The Kerlian spy, the cleaner, watched from the shadows, shaking her head. She made her way back to her own room at a leisurely pace to collect her things and depart. Imogen would get caught, of course, but she was near the end of her assignment anyway. The eleven-year-old had been a convenient temporary asset, believing that information would buy her way back into the good books of the Council.

The Council never intended to allow any Robinson to return, of course. That had been made abundantly clear to her when her superiors approached her about collecting information from the girl. All that mattered, however, was that Imogen believed it for the time being. After that, well, the Council no longer cared about what came of the girl. But the information she had given Kerlile… now, that would be very interesting – and useful – indeed.

[Lauchenoiria]

“She’s a Kerlian spy! She’s spying on her mother and her sister for the man-haters!” the Prince crowed, pointing at the girl the security guards had dragged in. She was drenched in water from the heavy rain in the night, and was bleeding from where she’d fallen onto a rock while trying to get away. In spite of this, the eleven-year-old Imogen Robinson was glaring at the King with a look of challenge on her face.

Imogen had tried very hard to get away, and for a while she thought she’d managed it. She easily lost Camille and the Prince on the first day, by running through a field of sheep covered in their droppings. Prince Jacob had halted at the fence she’d jumped, exclaiming about how disgusting she was, and how he would never allow “that stuff” to ruin his expensive, fancy shoes. Camille hadn’t said anything at all.

Her trouble came from the fact that she didn’t have a destination in mind. When they’d accepted her offer of information, they were very clear that she needed to give them a lot to make up for her family’s betrayal. She doubted therefore that the Kerlian embassy would be particularly welcoming. And it wasn’t like Kerlile had many allies. Xiomera, perhaps, but she could just imagine turning up at the Xiomeran Embassy and asking them to save her from the royal family of Zongongia.

Besides, she didn’t know what direction the capital was in. The royals preferred to live away from the capital in Zongongia, unlike most countries. And Imogen wasn’t sure if she’d run north, south, east or west. She didn’t know how to navigate by either sun or stars. She did know what berries weren’t safe to eat, thanks to the first time she and her sister had been forced to go on the run in Kerlile.

She sought shelter in a tiny gap in some rocks. It could hardly be called a cave; she was an eleven-year-old and barely fit in the gap. That was where she spent the first night, uncomfortably curled up and shivering in the cold of the dark mountains. If she had been smarter, she would have travelled by night, but Imogen wasn’t really prepared to go on the run. She knew she ought to stay off the paths, but that made it harder to navigate.

Up in the mountains, she kept coming across steep drops and needing to double-back. She didn’t know what direction she was going in at any given time. She almost got trampled by a herd of wild horses at one point. She fell in a muddy river. And then the rain started; and would not stop. The only shelter she could find was the ruins of what had once been some kind of farm structure several centuries ago.

That was where they found her, when they searched all the possible hiding places. She’d been dragged unceremoniously back to the Palace on foot, given the inability of motor vehicles to access this area. Now, she was being stared at by the collected Royal Family and her fellow Kerlian exiles, and dripping dirty water onto the fancy carpets. She held her head up, as she had learned to do in Kerlile. But she was scared.

“How old is this child?” the King asked.

“Eleven, Your Majesty,” her mother whispered. Imogen couldn’t detect her tone.

“Eleven. Jacob, I am given to believe that you are the one who ordered Palace security to search the surrounding countryside and bring her back here?” King Osvald turned to his third son.

“Yes,” he said proudly. “So you can deal with the filthy Kerlian spy!”

“Jacob, where exactly do you think we are?” the King enquired, then held up his hand to halt any response. “Do you believe we are in Xiomera where the head of state rules by decree? Or perhaps it is time you have confused, and believe this is 1723 rather than 2023? No? Well, either way I must remind you of two things. One, I cannot do anything about alleged Kerlian spies. And two, the age of criminal responsibility in Zongongia is twelve. This child is a child Jacob. As are you.”

Jacob scowled at his father, opening his mouth to speak only to be interrupted.

“Let the girl go,” King Osvald commanded the security who immediately unlocked the handcuffs and pushed Imogen an inch away from them. She didn’t know what to do, and so hesitated, only for eight-year-old Jia Chiu to step up, take her hand, and lead her to stand with the other Kerlians.

“You’re just going to let her go!?” Jacob yelled. “She could be telling them how to attack us and make us all their slaves! Just because she’s eleven? I’m eleven and I know that you don’t let Kerlian spies do their spying!”

“Yes, you are eleven!” the King raised his voice. “You are eleven, and therefore you do not understand this situation. Leave us, Jacob. Go to your room immediately! And you, Albert, seeing as you were involved in this whole affair. I will speak with you later.”

His tone left no room for argument, and the two young princes departed, though not without a couple of glares in the direction of the Kerlian children. Jia stepped in front of Imogen and bared her teeth – which was more amusing than threatening, given Jia was a full head shorter than Imogen. Once the two younger princes had left, the King turned to Carmen Robinson.

“Our apologies, Madam Robinson,” he said. “This should not have been allowed to happen. We will be having words with our sons.”

“It’s okay, Your Majesty,” Carmen assured him. “I’m just glad Imogen is safe.”

They exchanged the necessary diplomatic pleasantries, and then the Kerlian group departed, leaving the King with his eldest two sons, the three princesses, the Queen and the youngest – still just a baby himself.

The Kerlians were all present; Carmen and Natasha Robinson; Camille Pierre; Xia, Jia and Cheung Chiu. The group made their way to Carmen’s suite in silence. Upon arrival, Xia Chiu took Imogen into the bathroom to clean her up and give her fresh, dry clothes. Imogen was silent, with tears beginning to form at the corner of her eyes. Xia gave her instructions, and then when she was finished, told her to sit down and began to brush the tangles out of her still-damp hair.

“Imogen,” Xia said softly, “is there any truth to the Prince’s words? I ask that you tell me, even if it is difficult. Your mother is quite upset and I would prefer to prepare both you and her for whatever has happened.”

Imogen closed her eyes, the tears rolling down her cheeks as much of an answer as any words would have been. She braced for the woman to hit her, or some other punishment deemed suitable by a Kerlian, but Xia kept calmly brushing her hair.

“I’m not angry, Imogen. None of us are. Let me tell you a story of the first time I ever left the Matriarchy. It was for the Olympics in Shuell in 2019; Jia was only five and I had just found out I was pregnant with Cheung. I was very nervous to be in such a different environment. I didn’t know what to expect. While we were there, I experienced a lot of things that people in Kerlile never do. Random flirting, wolf whistles, looks. It was scary! And then Jia and I had an… altercation with someone my family is very frightened of from our past.”

Xia put down the hairbrush and looked at Imogen in the mirror in front of the pair. “Your own family history with Zongongian royalty is complicated. And things here are very, very different than they were in Kerlile. It is natural to be frightened, and shocked, and crave the familiarity of what once was. You’re a child, Imogen. You acted as a lost, homesick child who acted on the only possible solution she could see. We’re not going to punish you for that.”

“I’m sorry,” Imogen whispered, crying. “I didn’t want anyone to get hurt, I just want to go home. I really, really, really want to go home!”

“I know honey,” Xia said, bending over as best she could to hug the girl, given she was quite heavily pregnant herself at this point. “I know. It’s going to be okay, but I will need you to tell your mother what you told the government, ok? Can you do that for me?”

Imogen nodded, wiping the tears from her face and trying to calm down. She sniffled, and Xia handed her a tissue for her to wipe her eyes and blow her nose. Once she had calmed down, Xia took her hand and led her back out to the others.

[Lauchenoiria]

Kerlian Intelligence Service HQ, Grapevale, Kerlile

Councillor Pierre slapped the woman hard on her cheek. “Did you truly believe this was information we would use!?” she shouted in the woman’s face. “This is Kerlile!”

“Councillor, the girl…” the woman began only to be silenced by another slap.

“You were instructed to get the girl to spy on the Zongongian royal family! Not her own family; and certainly not about this. We are Kerlians! We do not use pregnancy against women, no matter how much treason they commit! Even during the Civil War, we gave prisoners the choice and you know fine well what we did to them after!” Pierre shouted, drawing the attention of the security guards outside.

“Is everything okay, Councillor?” one of them asked, popping her head around the door.

“No,” Pierre responded. “Please put this woman under arrest,” she gestured towards the recently arrived spy from Zongongia.

“Councillor!” the spy reacted in shock. “I was just doing my job!”

“You have been corrupted by the patriarchy,” the Councillor recited as if by rote while the spy was dragged away. “If you think we have fallen so far.”

Once the spy was gone, Pauline Pierre groaned and leaned back. This was not how she had intended the Imogen Robinson affair to go. Zongongia was hardly the best place in the world for an accidental pregnancy, and if the father was the Crown Prince, then Natasha was in deep trouble. This was the sort of thing Kerlian agents were trained to notice, yes – in order to offer help to the woman in the situation, not to use the information against them! For all the Robinson family did, she did not deserve the likely outcome here.

It had happened before; accidental pregnancies in unmarried partners of Zongongian princes – not that history recorded such. It was something monitored in the files of Kerlian intelligence, along with the result. Zongongia lost a fair number of KWSI points for it. The long and short of it was that they generally forced the woman into marriage. A cardinal sin in Kerlian eyes, if ever there was one. Natasha was still a Kerlian citizen.

Pauline took out her phone and brought up Carmen Robinson’s number. She stared at the screen, at the messages from two years ago before the arrest of her former counterpart. It would be very awkward for her to contact Carmen now, especially since Pauline had failed to keep her promise to Carmen when the other woman came to her to confess back in 2021. Pauline had promised to protect the Robinson Auroras. She’d tried to keep the promise; but she’d failed. Even Georgiou couldn’t forgive the treason. It was her and Hale against the others in a bizarre Council session.

Please call me. I know. I can help you. She typed the message, but couldn’t send it. It sounded too much like a threat. But Pauline didn’t know a way to contact any of the Robinsons that wouldn’t sound like a threat, coming from her. Her stupid grandmother had stupidly killed Carmen’s grandmother in 1983 and the consequences of that act were never far from rearing their ugly head.

*

Royal Palace, Zongongia

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Xia Chiu asked her daughter in Mandarin. The Kerlians figured that if the Zongongians weren’t spying on them before, that they would be now. At least make them take the time to find a translator.

“Yes,” Jia nodded, placing another neatly folded top into the suitcase. “I don’t fear the Kerlian government, even if you’re wrong. It wasn’t that bad.”

The Chiu contingent of the Kerlian group in Zongongia intended to head back home, now that everything was supposedly water under the bridge regarding the Reena Patel affair. Xia had been concerned that Jia would be too afraid to go back, but her eight-year-old had only shrugged and begun packing.

“You came all this way to get out of Kerlile, Jia,” her mother reminded her. “It’s okay if you don’t want to go back, we can figure out an alternative.”

“I came because you were here,” Jia replied as if it was that simple to get on a horse and flee her country as a small child accompanied by a literal toddler. “I didn’t know what was going on. Now I know. And great-grandmother has been sending me texts, and emails, and voicemails, and videos apologising. Like, ten a day. I believe her. She won’t do it again.”

Xia was unsure if she should be concerned that her daughter was too trusting, or marvel at how forgiving she could be. Both, she decided in the end. Regardless, they couldn’t stay in Zongongia much longer with the information hanging over them. It wasn’t safe. The Robinsons were forming their own plan, since they were still banned from Kerlile, but the Chiu were welcome back, if they chose to accept. And if Jia was fine with it, which she seemed to be, they fully intended to take the offer.

*

Camille Pierre had flat-out refused to go with the Chiu, and so would have to be factored into the Robinsons’ plans. After a tearful confrontation, the three Robinsons had managed to work something out between them. Natasha was terrified though, when she found out what her sister had passed on to Kerlile. Carmen and Xia had assured her that there was no way the Matriarchy would use such information as a weapon, but Camille was less sure.

Either way, with the situation likely to become more noticeable by the day, Carmen was quickly making plans to slip out of yet another country in the dead of night. The former Councillor was getting rather fed up of what seemed like a chase across the whole planet, but needs must. Imogen was just relieved to be leaving Zongongia. Camille just didn’t want to go back to Kerlile.

Her phone rang, and Camille checked it only to see it was her mother again. She declined the call once again. If her mother wanted to speak to her, she shouldn’t have let the rest of the Council use her to make some point.

[Lauchenoiria]

In school, Natasha Robinson had chosen to study Eirian as her foreign language. Eiria also would have scored very highly on the KWSI if it hadn’t been for the political element, which made it an acceptable choice to Imogen. Carmen had no particular preference of where the family would flee next, so Eiria seemed as good an option as any. Camille was just tagging along, clutching the piece of paper that stated Natasha was her temporary legal guardian under Kerlian law, and refusing to return home.

The Chiu had already left, after acquiring a horsebox and vehicle to take back Jia’s pony. They had marketed their departure to the Zongongians as being related to Xia’s fast-approaching due date alongside some convoluted political nonsense they simply had to handle back home. It was in part true – Xia’s children appeared to be collecting nationalities like stamps from being born all over the place. If the trend continued, rumours would start that she was doing it on purpose, and that would be politically damaging.

One problem remained, however. Reena Patel was still in a Zongongian hospital in a coma following the abuses of her mother. In the worst-case scenario where the Zongongians became hostile to the group, she would make a perfect hostage. Therefore, they had to find some way to get her out of the country as well, without raising suspicions – or killing her in the process. Fortunately for them, Wosteaque provided the answer.

The archipelago nation had some of the most advanced healthcare in the world. Therefore, it would be entirely justified to send her for treatment there, given the Zongongians had so far failed to heal whatever was wrong with her. That was something of a misrepresentation of the situation, of course, but it was plausible enough. People with money would always become impatient with slow processes, and take any offer that would be faster, better, etc.

All the Robinsons had to do was get Camille to call Nirmala Patel and suggest it to her, claiming she’d visited Reena and she was concerned that she needed more advanced treatment, and pitch Wosteaque as an option that she’d “just happened to stumble across online”! Nirmala would have never taken a call from a Robinson, but Camille managed to get through, and Nirmala – who was pissed at her sister for the politics of the situation – made the arrangements remotely.

Now all they had to do was leave in the night. Carmen expected that they would be stopped if they tried to fly from Zongongia, but fortunately the Lauchenoirians had an open border with Zongongia and didn’t check their outgoing passengers very thoroughly. The plan would be to head to the southern border, get a ferry across the river, take the train to Melissa City and board the first flight to Eiria.

They would go tomorrow. Hopefully, all would go smoothly.

[Lauchenoiria]

She just had to be stupid about it.

In the night, before the Robinsons slipped out, Natasha was tossing and turning, feeling guilty about just fleeing in the night without Kristofer knowing anything. She had loved him to begin with, or thought she did. Teen pregnancy scandal wasn’t exactly something Kerlians were taught to expect or fear. They’d been careful, of course – so either their protection had failed, or he hadn’t been entirely truthful with her. Probably the former, but one could never tell in the patriarchal countries.

Unable to sleep, Natasha had eventually made up her mind that to assuage her own guilt, she would have to tell Kristofer. In a moment which resembled the scene in the teen movie that has the entire cinema screaming “don’t be so stupid” at the screen, she snuck out of her room to find her prince.

The guards allowed her entry; this was not the first time she’d snuck into the Crown Prince’s room at night. They probably thought she was going there to do what had started this mess in the first place. Kristofer was reading in bed, and his face broke into a smile when he saw Natasha enter.

“Natasha! I was beginning to think you were angry with me, you haven’t come by in weeks,” he said, patting the bed beside him. She shook her head, instead perching on the edge of a chair in the corner. “Are you angry with me? What’s up?”

He had been so sweet to her as they rode horses together, and he taught her about Zongongian culture. She’d tried to teach him about Kerlile, but they’d only ended up making fun of it together. She laughed at all the jokes to seem as if she was in on them; as if she was laughing with him rather than him laughing at her country of birth. With the benefit of hindsight, it seemed like one way he hadn’t listened.

And the dates had been secretive but lovely. The rumours had spread regardless, and the other young women ended up hating her for it. She’d become very isolated aside from him and her immediate family as a result. But it’s not like he’d done it on purpose. Only, he hadn’t exactly reacted with surprise the time that journalist happened to stumble upon them in the middle of the Zongongian countryside. It had seemed like he almost expected it. She’d put it down to royal decorum.

The more she thought, in this moment, about how their relationship had progressed, the more red flags she saw flapping in the wind. All the things that Kerlile warned about were suddenly staring her right in the face. In her attempt at rejecting Kerlian propaganda, she seemed to have rejected the true parts among the lies and exaggerations. In some ways, her Kerlian upbringing made her more vulnerable.

“Nothing, this was a mistake, I should go,” Natasha stammered, rushing to get up and leave. But he was already in front of her, grabbing her hand and looking down at her with that look he always gave. She had thought it romantic, now it just seemed patronising.

“Natasha, I know something is wrong,” he murmured. “Is this about your sister?”

“No, no, that’s all resolved,” she quickly said, pulling back from him. He stepped forward, taking her hand again. In Kerlile this alone would be a crime, she thought, to take her hand when there was even a chance of interpreting her actions as rejection.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” he asked. She was between him and the chair, feeling trapped. She couldn’t work out what to do. A Zongongian woman would relent. A Kerlian would attack him. She couldn’t do either.

“Let me… I don’t… I can’t… You need to… I…” she desperately tried to find words. But it seemed she didn’t need to. He already suspected. He placed his hand on her stomach and she froze.

“Are you?” he asked softly.

“I…” she nodded.

“I thought so, the minute I discovered you’d acquired that many tests,” he said, shaking his head and walking over to a drawer, opening it and searching for something.

“I didn’t tell you because… wait, discovered what? How did you find that out?” she asked.

“Oh, they monitor everything you Kerlians bring into the palace,” he shrugged, still searching.

“And you asked them for the report?” she said.

“Well, of course, you were behaving oddly. Aha!” he exclaimed, turning around with a plain business card in his hand.

“I was behaving oddly, so you asked your country’s intelligence service to give you reports on me?” Natasha demanded. Kristofer hadn’t noticed her mood, and continued as if she hadn’t spoken.

“This is the details of a clinic in Greater Acadia, they can take care of it easily and discreetly; tons of my friends have sent their girlfriends there. Totally safe,” he tried to hand her the card and she took it in shock.

“I’m sorry, I’m having a hard time understanding this,” Natasha shook her head in disbelief. “You spy on me, and now you’re handing me a card for an Acadian abortion clinic like you’re recommending a new restaurant?”

“If you want to keep it, we’ll need to have the wedding as soon as possible,” he replied, frowning in confusion. “I assumed you wouldn’t. If you do, we’ll need to tell Father. But if you’re going to Acadia, he can’t find out or he’ll make us get married.”

“He’ll make us… what the hell, Kristofer!?” she shouted. “How is this your reaction!? Do you have any idea – any idea what you sound like right now!?”

“This is what all my friends do!” he replied defensively.

“And you don’t see a problem with that?”

He shrugged.

“Of course you don’t,” Natasha said to herself, laughing in disbelief. “Of course you don’t! Imogen was right, the patriarchy is well and truly alive in Zongongia. I’m such a fool. The biggest fool to come out of Kerlile in a century. Well you know what, Kristofer? You can go to the deepest level of hell.”

She shoved him out of the way, storming back to her rooms. She gathered her things quickly, then roused the others. Before Kristofer had time to process what had even happened, the remainder of the Kerlians were on their way south.

[Lauchenoiria]

Carmen had acquired a car during their time in Zongongia, which was certainly useful. They drove down the mountain, joining the fast roads to get south as quickly as possible. It was a drive of several hours, and the sun began to rise halfway to the Lauchenoirian border. This wasn’t an issue; the hard part was getting out of the Palace and that was already done. Imogen fell asleep in the back seat, and Natasha lambasted herself for her own stupidity inside her head.

They reached a sleepy town on the border and parked, wandering down to the boats by the river, looking for a ferry to Lauchenoiria. They found this quickly; the first public boat south was due to depart in a mere half-hour, and was far cheaper than the Robinsons had budgeted for. They didn’t even bother checking their passports – though they did ask if they had some. Apparently, they were much more important for the return journey.

“Lauchenoiria will let anyone and their dog in,” the youth in the booking office told Carmen. “Getting back to Zongongia is harder, so you’ll want to check you have them!”

Carmen assured him they did, choosing not to mention that they intended this to be a one-way trip. It went smoothly, although some large river creature gave Imogen a fright by appearing to the side of the boat all of a sudden. One of the crew members laughed and told her the creature’s name in Spanish, but Imogen didn’t speak the language and didn’t manage to catch the name.

Arrival in Lauchenoiria was distinctly underwhelming. The town they arrived in literally didn’t have any border guards at all. They could just wander into the street without another word said, while someone handed a crate of fish over to a shopkeeper standing by the dock, and a Zongongian mailman had a chat with a Lauchenoirian postwoman while handing her a bulging bag of letters and a trolley of packages.

The Robinsons asked directions to the train station and were pointed past a line of shops; a couple of small businesses interspersed with remaining state-owned stores showing that the transition to full capitalism was not yet complete. Imogen and Camille were hungry, so Natasha stepped into one of the stores to get some breakfast, blinking at the prices which had been haphazardly stuck over the top of old information about state vouchers.

With breakfast acquired, they arrived at the station, which was pretty, but a little run-down. Planters full of colourful flowers were on both platforms, and a hand-painted “welcome” sign in four languages sat next to the official station sign. But the ground was cracked in several places, and the platforms looked as if they’d first been constructed in the 1940s. The whole town gave off vibes that people there cared about it, but the authorities did not.

Trains in Lauchenoiria were blissfully frequent, however, and they managed to board one before the heat picked up. The actual train was much more modern than the station; with a hybrid engine, modern air conditioning, and seating that was perfectly balanced between efficiency in numbers and comfort. Perhaps it wasn’t that the Lauchenoirian government was reluctant to spend money, but rather that they were very precise about what they chose to spend it on.

They paid for their tickets, to which Carmen attempted to correct the conductor that she was buying four, not one, only to be told that was the price for four – or, rather, two, since under-18s travelled for free. He took them for Zongongians, and commented about how expensive things were there, to which Carmen nodded along. Kerlian public transport operated on a whole other system, but it seemed prudent not to mention that.

When they arrived in Melissa City, they had to change to the airport train, which was a fully electrified underground line which shot through the tunnel so quickly, it seemed that hardly any time had passed at all. They got out, and it was somehow still the morning. The journey had taken far less time than anticipated. For all Lauchenoiria’s issues, their public transport system was efficient.

This was the next tricky part. She had to hope that the person selling her the plane tickets either didn’t look too closely at the passports, or didn’t recognise the name. Upon arrival, Carmen scanned for whichever salesperson looked least likely to recognise, landing on a young woman who looked extremely bored. She headed to that desk and asked for four tickets on the next flight to Eiria.

True to impressions, the woman turned to a computer, her expression remaining the same, and looked up the next flight to any Eirian airport that had four free seats.

“I can get you on the 18:28 to New Riga, or if you’re willing to pay for first class there’s still some of those seats on the 13:45 to Geminus,” she recited in a monotone. Carmen took the first-class seats on the earlier flight. She judged spending longer in Lauchenoiria to be more of a danger than flaunting wealth would be. The woman gave their passports such a cursory glance that Carmen didn’t even think she’d registered that they were Kerlians.

They went through security and settled down to eat a proper meal in one of the airport restaurants. Everyone except Carmen was very hungry, and wolfed down the food. Carmen was too nervous to eat much, and her daughters finished off her leftovers. They made their way to the gate, and joined the first-class boarding queue. A pair of businessmen looked at Imogen, scowled, and muttered "Ain leilē, sana dvācana bernei danz lei āršat."

This time, the woman checking the passports did a double-take, and then stared at Carmen, very clearly recognising the name. She scanned the other three faces and then gaped at them, her mouth moving like that of a goldfish. She looked like she wanted to say something to deny them boarding, but she couldn’t quite work out what. Eventually, her colleague asked if she was okay, and she passed the four passports to him. He glanced at them and then at the four Kerlians.

“Go ahead, Ms Robinson,” he said, handing her them back. Then, as they walked ahead, Carmen overheard him say to his colleague “don’t stop them! Better Eiria’s problem than ours!”

And then they were on a flight to Eiria. They settled down, as did everyone else, and Imogen didn’t make a sound to anger the businessmen. They took off, and they were on their way.

[Democratic Republic Of Eiria]

Taugen Airport, Geminus

Kēam Wilson stood tensely in front of the coffee machine, watching as it prepared his fourth cup of coffee that day. The break room was clean, at least, but sparse and a touch dim, in line with the general appearance of the airport. Wilson didn't particularly enjoy his job as a border security officer, but it paid fairly well, so he couldn't really complain. The coffee machine slowed down it's pouring, and he picked his cup up gingerly, mixing in sugar with a wooden spoon.

A fellow border agent entered the break room, munching from a freshly-opened bag of chips from the vending machine. "Hey Emil." Wilson put the cover on his coffee cup and took a small sip.

Emil raised an eyebrow as he leaned on the counter. "Another coffee? Ain, Kēam. Just give in and drink tea like the rest of the damn nation! All that coffee is horrid for your health anyways. You drink it with just enough sugar to be bad for you, and yet not enough to make it actually taste fine. Your coffee habits are so strange."

Kēam gave a small chuckle. "Who are you, my father? And besides, you fell asleep in the break room last month. I'll keep drinking my coffee and not get written up for being away from my post, thank you."

"Hey, that was one time! And it wasn't even my fault! The party the night before was crazy. You should've been there. There were so many s-"

At that moment, the break room door flew open, startling both of the men. Amalē Vojkova, a coworker of theirs, stood in the doorway, a mix of confusion, shock, panic, and frustration on her face.

Wilson set his coffee back down on the counter. "What's wrong, Amalē? Did another moronic brute with an expired passport try to get in your booth again?" Amalie stood still in the doorway, seemingly still processing what had just happened. Kēam walked over to her, concerned. "What's wrong? Did something happen? I thought you were assigned to the asylum unit today."

She blinked again, then a whole bunch of words came spilling out. "There are Kerlians in the asylum lobby. Major ones! Former Councillor Robinson, her two daughters, and Pierre's daughter. They're refusing to tell me why they want asylum, and yet they insist that they're in real danger if they return to Zongongia. I don't understand. I think we're watching a diplomatic incident play out before our eyes."

The two men stared at Amalē, before looking back at each other. Emil spoke up first, in a steady tone. "I'll handle your post while you call the higher ups. This'll either be nothing, or a major controversy. Either way, I guarantee it'll be taken out of our hands soon." He gestured at Kēam's coffee cup. "Although, by the end of this, we all may need a couple of those."

[Lauchenoiria]

“She’ll probably get an abortion anyways,” Prince Kristofer told his father after explaining exactly why the Robinsons fled in the night.

“That is not a good thing!” King Osvald shouted, slamming his hand on the desk. “Life is sacred! And, also, it would look very bad if it got out,” he added at a lower volume.

“Why would she tell anyone?” Kristofer replied.

“She’s a Kerlian! I warned you about getting involved with a Kerlian! What did you expect would happen!? That she would marry you in a white dress and promise to love and obey? They’re practically feral when it comes to these matters! The moment she told you, you should have stopped her from leaving.”

“Keep her prisoner, you mean? You’d have me do what your brother did to Aunt Rebekka?” Kristofer scoffed.

The King’s brother Tómas had gotten his now-wife pregnant when they were both nineteen, and their father Aleksander had told him they had to marry. When Rebekka tried to run away, Aleksander had blackmailed her into staying, threatening to reveal some ancient scandals from her family if she didn’t acquiesce. Very few outside the royal family knew about this whole matter. Rebekka had tried to run away several times, until they locked her in her suite. She later died from alcohol poisoning in her late 30s.

“I will do what I have to in order to keep this family safe, and I expect you to do the same,” Osvald told his son.

“There’s no way Natasha would do as you say,” Kristofer replied. “Besides, the Robinsons are all out of scandals, everything is way out in the open.”

“There are other ways of convincing someone, son,” the King snapped. “The misandrists know of many themselves.”

“Since when were you so… horrible?” Kristofer asked. “You sound like Grandfather. You’re being really… xenophobic.”

The King stood up and slapped his son on the face. “And how do you know that this was not a deliberate plot by these Kerlians? You realise how this could destroy us? We have to find Natasha Robinson and bring her back. This is about survival!”

“Do you know something I don’t?” Kristofer said, stepping back and rubbing his face. “You don’t normally act like this.”

Osvald took a deep breath and sat back down. “You’re right, the panic is making it difficult for me to explain. I do not want to be a monster, son. I do not want to have to do things like this. I liked Carmen Robinson; I want to be gentle, I want to be kind. But there is history here, son. Kerlile has had designs on Zongongia since their foundation. They want coastal access, and they have sought an excuse to attack us for decades.”

The King sighed, shaking his head. “There have been far more close calls throughout history than we have allowed to get into the textbooks. Our policy towards them, allowing them to transport goods down our river unrestricted, has been a way to prevent them taking more radical action. But there has always been the risk that they would escalate. I am not saying that Natasha tricked you in order to manufacture a casus belli. What I am saying is that I cannot guarantee that she didn’t.”

“You think she, what? How would this help?” Kristofer asked, puzzled.

“Hell if I know,” the King muttered. “Kerlian logic is impossible to understand. But this sort of thing – babies, marriage – is very important to Kerlian ideology. I don’t know what they’d believe is justification. But we cannot leave a Kerlian with a baby of royal lineage. Especially your firstborn. You say she will have an abortion, but we don’t know that. And if she does, her killing your firstborn makes you look weak regardless.”

“What exactly are you proposing?” Kristofer asked.

In response, his father looked him in the eye, and leaned closer.

[Democratic Republic Of Eiria]

(Joint post with Lauchenoiria)

Undisclosed Location, Geminus Province

A pair of heavy black trucks pulled up in front of a nondescript office building, the tinted windows glinting in the sun. Numerous guards in black suits filed out, examining the empty parking lot before opening the rear doors. A group of wary Kerlian asylum seekers slowly exited the secure vehicles, trying to get a good look at their surroundings before they were escorted into the building in front of them.

Inside, a number of soldiers in purple uniforms stood guard at the front doors and an elevator across the room. A soldier was seated at a large wooden desk in the middle of the room, and at the sight of the group entering, she stood at attention. "Kuois nejan?" She asked, her tone crisp and neutral. What do you all need?

The guard closest to the desk began to answer in Eirian, before glancing suspiciously at the group of Kerlians. He then decided to use rudimentary Eirian Sign Language to convey his meaning, occasionally shaking his head apologetically. The desk soldier gave a curt nod. "Identifkacōn?"

The lead guard reached into his pockets and produced a set of ID cards, each of which the desk attendant examined carefully. After what seemed like an eternity of verifying cards and typing on her computer, she pressed a pair of buttons on her desk, and the elevator opened. "Percateo, Kaptena. Poivan alet."

With a gruff acknowledgement, the lead guard led the group of Kerlians into the cramped elevator. As the doors shut and they began to ascend, the group stood in tense silence, the mood only broken by the sound of lighthearted pop music radiating from a single speaker in the ceiling.

The doors opened again, revealing a more elegant meeting room. A few modest chandeliers provided fair lighting across the room, and a handful of small paintings lined the walls. Perhaps most notably, Chancellor Leah Stendē and Minister Alice Lancaster, two of the most influential women in Caxcana, sat on the other side of a large hardwood table, wearing sleek business Halarei. They stood as the Kerlian women entered, and Stendē gestured to the chairs on their side of the table. "Please, take a seat. May we get you anything?"

“No, thank you,” Carmen Robinson replied. “We apologize for the disruption our arrival has caused. We would have liked to give advance notice, but for reasons which I hope will soon become clear, that has not been possible. If certain people in Zongongia had discovered our intention to leave, it would have put my daughter Natasha in danger. I will allow her to explain further.”

When Carmen turned to Natasha, she froze, her eyes darting around the room between all the humans present. She tried to speak, but her mouth just kept opening and closing. Her mother nudged her in encouragement, but all Natasha could do was stare at the Eirians like a rabbit caught in headlights.

Stendē gave her a reassuring nod, donning a look of sympathetic understanding. "It's alright, Kurena. We are in no rush. And as far as safety goes, this is one of the most secure places in Eiria right now. I promise that, unless there is an urgent need for it, anything said in this room shall be kept between us." She examined the rest of the Kerlians, before turning back to Natasha. "How was your flight?" Her tone was light and cordial, projecting an air of calmness.

Natasha took a couple of deep breaths. “Fine,” she answered in a whisper.

“It was great,” Imogen piped up. “Super comfortable, and the food was really good! It was nothing like flying with Kerlian airlines. Those are so terrible sometimes. Well, more like cheap. But anyway, there was…”

“I think that’s enough detail, Imogen,” Carmen interrupted before her youngest daughter could start describing everything about the plane in intricate detail.

“I’m pregnant,” Natasha blurted out all of a sudden, before standing up, walking over to a nearby wall and placing her head on it, her back to everyone else in the room.

The two Eirian women gave each other a confused glance. Lancaster spoke up first, her tone neutral and diplomatic. "Well, congratulations." She directed her gaze back at Carmen. "I don't mean to pry, but I'm afraid we'll need some more context, especially for a claim of asylum from Zongongia. Given your current situation, claiming political asylum from Kerlile would've been fairly easy. However, you all already had protection in Zongongia, so there would need to be an explanation as to why you left that protection." The Minister glanced over back at Natasha. "But given the expressions you have, and the fact that you willingly left a nation that gave you asylum, I have no doubt that there is a good explanation."

"The father of Natasha's baby is Prince Kristofer," Carmen began. "You may have heard rumours about their relationship; I know several gossip-focused media outlets have run such stories. They were true. However, the Zongongian nobility frowns upon childbirth outside of marriage. There have been stories of forced marriage within the Zongongian nobility, which I have on good authority have their basis in fact."

"Plus Olivia sent me this," Natasha said, turning around and handing her phone to the Eirians. On the screen was an email with an opened attachment. The attachment was a document marked with the seal of the Kerlian Intelligence Service, detailing with evidence the story of the King's late sister-in-law. The body of the email read 'do with this as you wish'.

The Eirians read the document, their neutral expressions fading into a look of serious sympathy. The Diplomacy Minister shook her head, her lips pursed in disgust. "Metdi. Blackmail, forced marriage, practically kidnapping. If the royal family was willing to do this, they would've almost definitely exploited your family's exile status in order to keep Natasha there. There are multiple levels on which that would be illegal here."

Lancaster handed the phone to the Chancellor, who shared a similar look of distaste. "Even though immigration and asylum law aren't my specialty, I can say without a doubt that you have a valid case for asylum. And regardless of political difficulty, we aren't exactly in the business of turning valid asylum seekers away. I assume you'd like the asylum process to be as discreet as possible, given the circumstances?"

"Yes, if that is possible," Carmen nodded. "We do have sufficient funds to pay for our own housing and whatnot in various accounts, so I can assure you we have no intention of being a financial burden on your government. The only other thing I wish to raise immediately is Camille here. I am uncertain of the process for her, since she is not a blood relative."

Camille awkwardly waved, as if they wouldn't know which one she was: despite being very visibly the odd one out in the group.

Alice Lancaster thought for a moment. "Eiria has plenty of mechanisms in place for immigration with a child not related by blood. Adoption and fostering are quite important to us here. As long as one of you has legal custody of her, it should be relatively simple. If not…" She contemplated her word choice. "It may be a lot more complex, with a few more roadblocks and a much longer time span. So, is one of you her legal guardian under Kerlian or Zongongian law?"

"Under Kerlian law I have temporary custody," Natasha said. "It's a long story, and technically could be revoked by the Council at any point. I don't think they will, though, but you ought to be aware of the situation. The reason I don't think they will is that…" she paused, to gather her thoughts but was interrupted by Camille herself.

"I'm more trouble to them in Kerlile than I am here," Camille interrupted. "If that's not enough then I can tell you all about what happened in that horrific Alternative Education Centre. It's like a Kerlian brainwashing place where they try to make you loyal to the government," she explained.

"Um, basically that," Natasha shrugged. "The Zongongians honestly never specified if they recognised that themselves or not. Like, the actual Zongongian government, the non-royal ones, kept their distance from the whole matter as much as they could."

"The issues," Carmen said, attempting to summarise the chaotic phrasing of the two younger Kerlians, "are primarily two: one, that the Council could indeed revoke the custody order at will, as they can do most things in Kerlile. The second is that most countries would not, under their own laws, grant even temporary custody to someone of Natasha's age. Even in Kerlile it is highly unusual and only occurred because, well, I myself am barely considered human under Kerlian law nowadays."

"'Alternative Education Centre'?" Stendē adjusted her glasses. "Being sent to an 'alternative education' camp would actually give Camille an even stronger claim to asylum. Despite being a minor, it would classify her as an oppressed dissident. Even if the custody was rescinded, she alone could apply for what's called an Ozolina visa. It's usually given to victims of trafficking or other crimes, or the children of dissidents who could not come themselves. It's very unusual that political oppression is used as a reason for an 'Ozo' visa, but depending on the treatment in the Alt Ed facilities, she'll likely have a very strong case for it. It would require one or more citizen, resident, or asylee guardians, however, that role could be filled by you all, with occasional checks from a welfare officer."

"And besides, as long as the custody order isn't rescinded, she could be part of your family's asylum anyways. Once we get your initial asylum approved by a judge, her custody will be based in Eirian law, not Kerlian, and as such, it won't matter as much if the council rescinds it later. And since she could qualify for an Ozolina visa as well, you could always apply to have the benefits of the visa added to her asylum status. If I recall correctly, it would make it easier to apply for citizenship down the road, if that's what she would want to do."

“Yes,” Camille said.

“I don’t know if that will be necessary,” Natasha said simultaneously. The pair looked at each other awkwardly.

“I’m never going back there,” Camille said firmly to Natasha. She folded her arms. “I don’t care, I’m never going back there. Not after that. The rest of them are stupid, ever going back once they get out! I will NEVER go back there!”

“That’s not strictly what I was saying,” Natasha swallowed, looking to her mother for help.

“This is all, of course, a discussion for the future,” Carmen said, attempting to smooth over the possible argument. “Right now, let’s just focus on the initial claim. What do we need to do immediately?”

"Well, after this meeting, you'll be taken to an office of the Ministry of Diplomacy, where you'll fill out Form I-A-POL-1. You'll have your rights and the asylum process told to you by an immigration attorney, and then you'll need to find housing accommodations." Alice Lancaster grabbed a nearby legal pad and jotted down a few notes on the process for the Kerlians. "Your case will be brought before a judge, whom we will convince to seal your case records, for your own safety. There is also another possibility, if you'd like even more discretion. Alas, it is an extreme change, so it's completely your decision."

"What is this possibility?" Natasha asked.

"In English, It's called the 'Cloaked Life Program.' You'll be given new identities, your assets would be recycled to be as traceless as possible, and you'll have full cover stories made up for you by the Ministry of Intelligence. You'll have some say in this, of course, as it has to be a convincing identity. I'm not saying that this is the best plan of action for you, however, if security is ever a concern, it's an option. You don't have to decide right now either, you could join the program any time down the line. I just wanted to inform you that you have alternate options that give you more security."

"No way!" Blurted out eleven-year-old Imogen. "I'm not doing that!"

"Think about it, Imogen," Natasha said. "Both Kerlile and Zongongia will be after us for various reasons, probably for the rest of our lives. This might be safer."

"I said no!" Imogen shouted, slamming her hand on the table.

"Imogen!" Carmen snapped. "Behave yourself!"

"I'm, uh, also not keen on the idea," Camille piped up. "I never ever want to go back to Kerlile, but I don't want to never speak to my family again. My sister, Olivia, she's the whole reason I got out of Alt-Ed and… well."

"I don't think that will be necessary at this time," Carmen said slowly, addressing the Eirians. "And I apologise for my daughter's outburst. She appears to have forgotten her manners."

Stendē smiled. "No worries at all. I have three young nieces, and I can assure you they've been far less polite many times. And again, the Cloaked Life Program is certainly an extreme measure, and it will be an option for you in the future. I also must warn you, despite Eiria's reputation as a pluralistic society, there may be some here who aren't so friendly towards Kerlians, especially after the deal with Xiomera and the embassy withdrawal. The fact that you are asylees will help, as that's seen more sympathetically. Still, trust may be harder to earn, and I wouldn't exactly recommend flying a Kerlian flag in public. I'm sorry to say it, but that's an unfortunate fact of life right now."

"Don't worry, we certainly don't intend to go around broadcasting our association with the Matriarchy," Carmen assured Stendē. Natasha and Camille nodded in agreement, while Imogen only scowled.

"I had assumed so." The two women stood and gave the group a shallow bow. Stendē adjusted her Halar as she spoke. "Thank you all for your patience. You'll quickly be brought by the Solar Guard escort that brought you here to the nearest office of the Ministry of Diplomacy, so you can begin the arduous forms and interviews. The process will be as confidential as possible, and all documents will be sealed on my authority until a similar measure is approved by a judge. I'm sure that Minister Lancaster will be supervising the whole process and making sure that everything happens in a timely manner."

The Chancellor gave all of them a polite smile. "Well, I can't think of anything else to say. Welcome to Eiria, ladies. I hope you enjoy your time here."

[Lauchenoiria]

Babies, and Babies, and Babies

“I want to keep it,” Natasha Robinson informed her mother. They were in their new house in Eiria, in the suburbs of Geminus. It was smaller than their home back in Kerlile, but it was more than sufficient for the four – soon to be five, it seemed – Kerlians.

“You know I will support whatever decision you make,” Carmen replied. She’d only been 20 when she’d conceived Natasha, so she was hardly one to talk. Before their exile, the Robinson family had considered it safer to produce an heir early – before the Pierre family could assassinate the sitting Councillor.

“Thanks, Mum,” Natasha said, smiling briefly before her pensive expression returned. “Will the Zongongians do anything, do you think?”

“I’ll be honest, Natasha, I don’t know,” Carmen sighed. “As you’ve seen, they have a strange history with such things. Our family history with them won’t help. And then there’s the potential for racism too.”

“That was the weirdest part, when Imogen and I first went to Zongongia,” Natasha confessed. “It’s probably why I ended up getting so close to Kristofer: everyone else was making these comments that I didn’t really understand.”

“For all our flaws, Kerlile has done well in stamping out racism for the most part. Zongongia has barely even tried,” Carmen shook her head. “So, are you sure about the baby?”

“Yes,” Natasha nodded firmly.

“It won’t be as easy as it would be in Kerlile,” Carmen warned. “There is likely a lot of stigma attached to being a teenage mother here, though I don’t know to what extent.”

“I don’t care, I want to keep the baby,” Natasha replied.

“As I say, it’s entirely your decision.”

*

President Rebecca Arnott of Kerlile walked along the corridor of the fertility clinic, smiling to herself following the good news. The doctors had informed her that her own frozen eggs were indeed viable, and she had no health issues that would automatically produce any complications. Therefore, she could indeed go ahead with the IVF process. Now, she just needed to work out how to tell her daughter that she was so uncertain of her survival that she felt the need to produce a spare at the age of 46.

“Mother? What are you doing here?”

The President froze in her step, staring at her daughter. Was this real, or a hallucination brought on by her thoughts? No, it was real.

“Oh, Rosemary, I, uh…” Rebecca was normally more articulate than this. “What are you doing here?”

“I figured it was time for me to start thinking about having a daughter, especially given the precariousness of our society just now. We are four days away from Jennifer Hale handing control of the Council back to the Women’s Party with her plan to leave the country; and I know the others won’t act against me if I’m pregnant. Did someone tell you I was here?” Rosemary asked.

“No, uh,” Rebecca blushed. “I was just, uh…”

“Madam President, you forgot your prescription,” a doctor appeared around the corner and handed the aforementioned prescription to Rebecca.

“Uh, Mum? Are you here for the same reason I am?” Rosemary asked. “Just saying; this is a fertility clinic so why would you be getting meds here unless you were planning to have a baby?”

“Rosemary, I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about this sooner. Please believe me, this is nothing to do with you; I just…”

“It’s fine, you’re worried I’m going to go and get myself killed.”

“Rosemary…”

“I’m not offended,” the Councillor reassured the President. “Why would I be? I’m literally worried about the exact same thing. I know fine well I’ve made enemies.”

The pair looked at each other awkwardly for a few moments. The staff noticed the situation and quickly cleared out the adjacent corridors, not wanting to get involved in one of those notoriously tense Council situations.

“So…” Rosemary asked eventually. “You still going to go through with it?”

“I, uh, already have,” Rebecca confessed.

“Cool,” her daughter nodded. “Cool. Um, well. I should, uh, get back to work.”

“Right, yes, so should I,” the President agreed.

The pair quickly walked to the exit and went their separate ways; their heads spinning. If they were both successful in their treatment, and the resulting babies were female, then it seemed that aunt and niece would end up growing up together. Which was going to be entirely too awkward.

[Lauchenoiria]

After taking advice from some Eirian PR specialists, Natasha Robinson chose to quietly announce her pregnancy on social media and then unplug the landline before the press could start calling. She posted an hour after publishing deadlines would already have passed locally in Eiria, and then sat down with Camille to play a board game. They’d invited Imogen to join, but she’d just stuck her tongue out and went back to reading Kerlian propaganda books in her room.

Camille thoroughly trounced Natasha at their game, by which time she was feeling a little braver, and checked her phone. That was a big mistake. The internet had taken to calling her every name under the sun. It did not seem to matter what political position an individual had for them to have some reason to dislike Natasha. She was a slut, a prude, a misogynist, a misandrist, a tragic teen mother, a spoiled rich girl, who should have abstained, or got an abortion, or…

She switched her phone back off, and went to find her mother. Carmen was in the home gym they’d set up doing the gentle exercises doctors had recommended she do to recover fully from her ordeal in the Restricted Region. Natasha hopped on a treadmill beside where her mother sat doing stretches.

“Does the entire world hate us, or something?” Natasha asked her mother.

“Probably,” Carmen shrugged. “We were a Council Family which means everyone anti-Kerlile considers us suspicious misandrists. And we betrayed Kerlile, which means everyone pro-Kerlile considers us traitorous misogynists.”

“Great, that’s just what I want for my life and my kid’s life,” Natasha replied, turning the speed up on the treadmill.

“They’ll calm down,” Carmen said. “It’s all fresh right now. Nobody knows quite what to think of us after the Aurora affair. But as time passes, politics will move on and we can fade into obscurity if that is our wish. Although, I would have cautioned against getting mixed up with royalty if obscurity was your desire.”

“Trust me, I wish I’d taken that advice,” Natasha shuddered. “Here’s hoping that Republic Now! does well in the next set of Zongongian elections.”

*

Over in Zongongia, Prince Kristofer was throwing things around his room while ranting aloud about Natasha using words that would be deemed Anti-Matriarchal Activity in their own right over in neighbouring Kerlile. It was morning in Eiria, and late evening in Zongongia, making him all the more irate. There was no way he would get a wink of sleep tonight after that girl basically told the world she’d left him and taken their child!

“We have to do something!” he shouted at his father. King Osvald merely sighed and waited for his son to get it all out. Only after Kristofer had thrown around some more expensive ornaments and collapsed in exhaustion on a chair did the King choose to reply.

“There is little we can do,” Osvald told his son. “Do you expect us to attack Eiria and drag the girl back here?”

“No, but you could, I don’t know, ask the Eirians to hand her back!” Kristofer replied.

“I will speak to the Prime Minister about submitting such a request, but the chances of Eiria honouring it are slim to none,” the King shook his head. “They do not recognise the taking of an unborn baby as kidnapping in Eiria, or most countries for that matter. And while we can prove to them that the child, Imogen, was working as a Kerlian spy, she is eleven. They are unlikely to extradite her.”

“Unlikely doesn’t mean impossible,” pointed out the Prince. “We have to at least try!”

“If you insist,” the King said, shaking his head.

*

The Theocratic Kingdom of ZONGONGIA formally requests the extradition of three individuals from the Democratic Republic of EIRIA. These individuals are as follows:

NATASHA ROBINSON, citizenship Kerlian, on the charge of KIDNAPPING of the unborn child of Prince Kristofer.

IMOGEN ROBINSON, citizenship Kerlian, on the charge of ESPIONAGE for the Matriarchy of Kerlile.

CARMEN ROBINSON, citizenship Kerlian, on the charge of AIDING AND ABETTING the KIDNAPPING of the unborn child of Prince Kristofer.

[Lauchenoiria]

Elisabet Breiner, Foreign Minister of Zongongia, stormed along the corridor of government offices within the Parliament building, as assorted aides hurried to get out of her way after seeing the look on her face. She was most displeased with the recent turn of events, and she wanted everyone to know it. She stormed into the Prime Minister’s office without knocking, slamming the door behind her.

“Why on Earth did you think it acceptable to file this absurd set of extradition requests to Eiria without consulting with me first!?” she demanded.

“Back up a moment,” Prime Minister Ivan Kristensen said, putting down the sandwich he had been taking a bite out of at the time of the interruption. “What extradition requests are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb with me! Who else could possibly have… wait…” Breiner paused as a look of sheer horror came over her face. “The King. I should have known. Oh, that man, I swear! Now, I’m no republican generally, but he is sorely tempting me right about now.”

“What has he done now?” the Prime Minister sighed, forlornly pushing his sandwich to the side and readopting his work posture.

“King Osvald has requested the extraditions of Carmen, Natasha and Imogen Robinson from Eiria,” Breiner said, turning to hiss at the picture of the King on the wall of the office.

“His Kerlian cousins? For what?” Kristensen frowned. He’d been confused when the Kerlians suddenly left, but relieved too. He hadn’t enquired too far into the circumstances of their departure for that very reason.

“You’ll like this – not a lot – but for kidnapping and espionage. And the espionage one? Yeah, he’s pinning that on the eleven-year-old.”

“Kidnapping? Of who!?”

“That’s what makes it even worse,” the Foreign Minister cringed. “Of an unborn baby being carried by Natasha Robinson; likely parentage Prince Kristofer.”

“By the sacred rocks!” Kristensen blasphemed, slamming his hand on the desk. “He’s trying to get a Kerlian extradited for being pregnant!? Has he completely lost his mind? Seriously, are you having me on Elisabet?”

“I wish I was. You know that law’s still on the books, regarding royal offspring? The one from the sixteenth century, aimed at that princess, I forget her name. High school history class; the Valahandian Wars.”

“Oh, uh… I don’t remember the name either. The one who tried to run away while pregnant with the future heir?” the Prime Minister scratched his head.

“Yeah, and they had her executed for trying to abduct the baby,” Breiner nodded.

“Surely Osvald doesn’t think he’ll get away with that? I doubt Eiria has an equivalent law on their books. And accusing an eleven-year-old of espionage? Has he forgotten the age of criminal responsibility here, never mind whatever it is in Eiria?”

“It’s an absolute joke!” agreed Breiner. “Honestly, this is going too far. Osvald has been blatantly abusing his de jure authority. The royals are overstepping their bounds. And I doubt Kristofer will be much better when his turn comes – this whole debacle clearly originated with him. Look, I know we’re not a republican party, but I am this close to bringing such a resolution to our party conference.”

“Hey, if they keep this up, I’ll second it,” Kristensen shook his head. “I’ve seen how we’re being hammered in the polls for this nonsense. Rocks, we’re called Economic Focus and yet not a single damn question is about the economy any longer! It’s all ‘why did King Osvald invite Kerlians?’ and ‘are you going to do something about the Kerlians murdering postal workers?’”

“Speaking of the Kerlians, they’re not happy with Osvald either. You know what landed in my inbox this morning? A formal complaint regarding our treatment of their citizens, with regards to allegedly attempting to force Natasha Robinson into marriage. And after what the royals have done today, I would not be disinclined to believe them for once.”

“The Council hardly have a leg to stand on, given it just came out that their ancestors murdered six whole families last century,” the Prime Minister pointed out. “But I see what you mean. The public is angry, the Kerlians are angry, the Eirians are probably angry… and we’ve got an election next month. We need to do something about our monarchy problem.”

“Do you have any suggestions?” Breiner asked.

“I wish I did,” sighed Kristensen. “I really, really wish I did.”

[Democratic Republic Of Eiria]

(Joint Post with Lauchenoiria)

"Kidnapping? They're actually accusing a pregnant woman of kidnapping her unborn child?!"

Minister Alice Lancaster looked incredulously at the poor courier who had placed the extradition papers on her desk. "These people are seriously deluded. How the hell do they intend to request an extradition for an allegation that's not even a crime here? Have they ever heard of the concept of double criminality?! Not to mention charging an eleven year old with espionage. Angels save me from this mess."

She rubbed her temples and nodded at the courier. "Sorry for the outburst. You may go." As he shut the door behind himself, the Minister of Diplomacy slowly spun around in her desk chair, pondering her options. I promised the Chancellor that I would manage the fallout from accepting the Robinson asylum request. So, first, I better figure out what the hell is going on.

She pressed a button on her phone, and a few moments later, one of her assistants entered the door. Alice wasted no time in rattling off orders. "First, I need a staffer to call Carmen Robinson and ask her about the espionage claim against her daughter. If she'd rather email or call me, that's fine, I just need the information. Second, as you leave, get me the office of Prime Minister Kristensen of Zongongia. Tell them that I must speak with him at his earliest convenience."

Kristensen was just settling down to finish his sandwich when the phone rang. "Sacred rocks!" he exclaimed. After his assistant told him who was calling, he was ready to upgrade them to mountains. He collected himself, and took the call.

"Good morning - or is it afternoon there? - Minister Lancaster," he greeted her. "A pleasure, as always. How are you doing today?"
"It's between afternoon and evening here, Your Excellency. And I was having a bit of a calmer day at least, until I received a package that was addressed to my office. It was an official diplomatic parcel from your government. I assume that you know what it contains, and why it might raise a few questions on our end?" Lancaster's voice sounded polite, if a little terse.

"Ah yes," he replied, though he already knew the reason for the call. "That will have been from His Majesty, King Osvald." There was a not-unsubstantial amount of sarcasm in his tone at the use of the address and title.

Alice picked up on the sarcasm and tilted her head, curious. "I see. And you do understand that there is no possible way that Eiria can honor any of these requests? We don't exactly hide our extradition policies and equivalent laws, so I was quite surprised that requests like these were even filed. Any competent lawyer or judge would take one look at these and throw them out immediately."

"His Majesty did not deem it necessary to consult with myself before filing the requests," Kristensen replied tersely. He had considered the options between making sure Zongongia appeared united to the world, and then decided that no, he was going to fully throw Osvald under the bus. If the King wanted to go behind his back, let the world know what he was up to. "I would have advised him against such a move. Indeed, the law he wishes Natasha charged under is literally from 1548."

"1548? Wow. I guess it makes sense that such a draconian law is that archaic. Still, I'm surprised to see that a law that is over twice the age of the Eirian Republic is still in use. The Royal Family must really be desperate for Natasha's return." She paused. "Regardless, I am glad that your government did not send us these requests, and that you don't expect us to approve them. It is a relief."

"I believe the oldest law still on Zongongian books predates the Valhandian conquest of Melissa; we are not as efficient as we ought to be regarding the repeal of outdated legislation," Kristensen admitted. "I will speak to King Osvald and make sure he understands that his actions here were... ill-advised."

"I'd appreciate that, so we can avoid any future misunderstandings. Thank you very much for your time, Prime Minister. Chancellor Stendē sends her warmest regards."

"You are most welcome, and thank you. Please send her mine also," Kristensen replied. He hung up the phone and exhaled. That wasn't as bad as he had anticipated. His subsequent conversation with King Osvald, however, was looking to be far, far worse.

---

As Alice hung up the phone, she looked blankly at the extradition papers sitting in front of her. They'd only be useful as toilet paper now. God, I wish that I could rip these up. With a sigh, she opened a lower drawer on her desk and pulled out a stamp that bore the seal of her office. She dipped it into an ink pad and then went through and stamped each request, before tucking them back in the folder, setting it aside, and stamping the folder once for good measure.

Rejected under the authority of the Minister of Diplomacy.

[Lauchenoiria]

Pierre Household, Kerlile

“Mother, are we going to be safe?” asked Eva Pierre. “In light of the leaking of this so-called Secret of the Six, do you believe we are at risk of foreign intervention?”

Eva had not known the Secret beforehand, being a second daughter. Only the direct heir would be told unless there were exceptional circumstances. Certain things could not be spoken of, even within the Council’s own households. Or, that used to be the case at least. Now, all the cards were laid bare on the table for everyone to see. There were few secrets left in the secret archives of Kerlile that the world had not discovered.

“It is doubtful,” Pauline assured her daughter. “After all, Xiomera kidnapped and tortured a pair of Lauchenoirians in the present day, and nothing happened. The Secret refers to something that happened nearly ninety years ago; something our grandmothers and great-grandmothers were behind. They know they cannot change the past.”

“Nonetheless, I do not like that Eiria has such access to a member of our own family,” Eva replied. “Camille would make a useful hostage if they desired. And please, mother, do not give me the spiel about how democracies do not do such things. Nothing in this world is guaranteed but death. It’s not like Darrin’s regime is ancient history, either. Clearly there have been people in Eiria in the past willing to do such things; so, we cannot count on Eirians in the present to be more magnanimous.”

“Eva has a point,” Gabrielle Pierre, the third daughter, agreed. “Frankly, I’m surprised you’ve allowed her to stay with the traitors this long as it is.”

Gabrielle and Eva were both of the mind that Carmen Robinson should have been executed, alongside her daughter Natasha. Indeed, upon learning that there was indeed precedent for the execution of an entire Council Family for (perceived) treason, the pair were even more outraged that the present-day Council had permitted Carmen to leave. If they had known it was their own mother who had ensured Carmen’s safety, there would have quite possibly been a miniature civil war within the family unit.

“I will remind you that I had little choice after Olivia chose to anger the Patels,” the Councillor turned to her eldest in reproach.

“I regret nothing,” Olivia asserted. “They would have tortured Reena to death. I had no choice, and then to prevent civil war you had no choice, I do understand that. I’d rather suffer a couple beatings to prevent a civil war than be responsible for all the carnage that would cause. What I won’t allow is for Camille to suffer the same.”

Camille had, of course, ended up living with the Robinsons in a convoluted response to Olivia partaking in a plot to rescue Reena Patel, who had been held prisoner by her own family. Olivia had fled the country, and would only return in exchange for Camille’s safety and release after Camille was imprisoned in lieu of Olivia’s presence. Olivia had duly negotiated and had returned, only to suffer for a week or so until the Council decided to do yet another U-turn on the matter. As was usual.

“And what do you think will happen if the Eiria decides to have another military coup while Camille is in the country?” asked Eva. “Do you think they’ll give her milk and cookies?”

“I’m not naïve!” Olivia snapped. “But there’s no way Eiria will let that happen again. This is all an unlikely hypothetical, and surely we have bigger fish to fry right now?”

The three daughters turned to their mother, awaiting her thoughts on the whole matter. Councillor Pauline Pierre mused over what her daughters had said. Each of them had good points; and it was far better to deal with the matter of Camille now than later. She was rather heartbroken, if she was honest, that her thirteen-year-old daughter would rather flee across the planet than come home to her. Pauline kind of hated herself for letting the Council imprison her back then. Pauline kind of hated herself a lot these days.

“Camille should be here, with her family,” Pauline said eventually. “I don’t think it likely that Eiria will suddenly turn into a military dictatorship, but that does not matter. Camille doesn’t belong in Eiria. We must be careful, however. We should not do anything hasty, that will anger the Eirians. Someone needs to speak to Camille in person, convince her to come home of her own volition.”

“No offence, mother, but Camille is safer in Eiria,” Olivia shook her head. “Here we have the threat of the other families, the possibility of the world attacking us, and not to mention that whole Zichitla nonsense. I heard you saying she apparently broke out some prisoners the other week? This place is not safe. I won’t bring my kid sister back to this.”

“Very well,” Pauline replied. She had not expected Olivia to cooperate. “I can hardly go myself; I am not permitted in Eiria. One of you two will have to go.”

“Yeah, uh, I think I might also be banned from Eiria,” Eva said sheepishly. “Last time I checked, anyways, they had some absurd warrants out for my arrest. Gabrielle, please tell me you’re allowed to go there?”

“As far as I know… unless they ban members of the Kerlian military I guess,” Gabrielle shrugged. She was in the middle of her national service – which was not compulsory for Daughters of the Council, but which was still expected of younger Daughters unlikely to inherit as a matter of culture.

“We can find out,” Pauline said. “And if everything’s safe, then you can be on the next flight to Eiria. Just, please, Gabrielle. Bring your sister home.”

[Lauchenoiria]

Gabrielle Pierre was already exhausted by the time she was allowed into Eiria. Being a current member of the Kerlian military, and probably her family name also, meant the Eirians were taking every possible precaution before permitting her entrance into their country. By the time she made it out of immigration, it was late and so she went straight to her hotel, and fell into a deep sleep.

The next morning, she set off for the Robinson residence. She was fully aware of the EICA tail following her everywhere she went, even to the little coffee shop she stopped in. But she wasn’t doing anything wrong, so she paid them no mind. All she wanted to do was talk to Camille, and encourage her to come home. If she wouldn’t, then Gabrielle would find out exactly what it was Camille wanted, and they would go from there.

When she reached the Robinson residence, she rang the bell and waited, like a normal guest. After a couple of minutes, Natasha Robinson came to the door, opening it and then pausing in surprise. Natasha’s pregnancy was starting to show a little; it wouldn’t be immediately noticeable unless one was looking. Gabrielle was looking, but without any level of judgement. She was Kerlian, after all.

“Gabrielle,” Natasha said, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“Hello Natasha,” Gabrielle said politely. “Congratulations on the baby, and my commiserations regarding the patriarchal dipshit of a father. I would like to speak with my sister, Camille.”

Natasha snorted at the mention of Kristofer. “Thanks; I should’ve known better than to trust him in the first place, but it is what it is. Come in, I’ll get Camille.”

Natasha stepped aside, letting Gabrielle into the house. She showed Gabrielle into the sitting room while calling up the stairs for Camille to come down. “Would you like any tea or coffee?” Natasha asked Gabrielle. “I have decaf as well.”

“Oh, I stopped for some on the way here,” Gabrielle said. “Wasn’t sure how you’d react to my visit, you know.”

“The blood feud? Water under the bridge; honestly,” Natasha chuckled, sitting down. “Why should I have to bear grudges around the actions of our great-grandmothers?”

“Indeed,” Gabrielle nodded. Camille appeared in the doorway.

“Oh,” Camille said, simply.

“Hi Camille,” Gabrielle said softly. “Please don’t be worried, I just want to talk.”

“Is Mother here?” Camille asked.

“No, she’s not allowed in Eiria,” Gabrielle replied. “She wanted to be, though. She wanted to apologise to you for what happened, and tell you that she loves you very much. She wishes you would come home; we all do.”

“I, uh…” Camille said, biting her lip. And then the front door burst open.

*

Concurrently

As soon as Gabrielle approached the Robinson property, the EICA agents tailing her contacted their superiors, who in turn immediately called Carmen Robinson, who was in the middle of an Eirian lesson. She excused herself and took the call.

“Hello?”

“We’re sorry to bother you, but we thought you’d like to know that Gabrielle Pierre is at your house.”

“What!?” Carmen said. “Get her out of it, immediately! She must be up to something! Are my daughters safe!? Arrest her!”

*

The EICA agents burst into the Robinson household, approaching where Gabrielle was seated on the couch. One of them grabbed her arm, pulling her up.

“Um, what’s going on?” Natasha asked.

“Orders,” one replied. “Your mother has instructed us to remove this individual from the property for trespassing.”

“I wasn’t trespassing,” Gabrielle replied. “Natasha invited me in.”

“I did; she just wanted to speak to Camille,” Natasha confirmed.

“Your mother says she is to be removed; it is her house,” the EICA agent replied, tugging at Gabrielle’s arm to force her to come along.

“This is silly,” Gabrielle declared. “All I want to do is see how my sister is!”

“Ma’am, you are under arrest for trespassing,” the EICA agent informed her. "Please step out now, or we will have to remove you with force."

“Surely this is going a bit far,” Natasha said, alarmed.

In response, the EICA agent produced a pair of handcuffs and put them on Gabrielle’s wrists. The Kerlian looked down in surprise, then up to meet her sister’s eyes. Camille had been standing in the corner, watching proceedings with a look of utter confusion.

“See who these people are, Camille? The truth of it? I came here to tell you how much your family loves you, and they have me arrested. Are these really the people you want to stay with? Do you really trust these Eirians?” Gabrielle asked.

“Enough,” said the agent, dragging Gabrielle out of the room. She stopped resisting, and looked away as Camille’s eyes followed her sister as she was led off. Both Natasha and Camille watched as the EICA agents departed with their new prisoner, matching looks of confusion and upset on their faces.

[Lauchenoiria]

Jointly written with Eiria

Prince Kristofer of Zongongia was determined to use the Gabrielle Pierre affair to his advantage. He did not care one single iota about Camille or whatever bizarre custody affair was going on within the Pierre family, but he wanted Natasha (and, more to the point, the foetus inside Natasha) back in Zongongia as soon as possible. And if this would help him? Yes, yes he would use it to his advantage.

To that end, he had the Eirian ambassador summoned to the Royal Palace. With the election going on, the democratic leadership was too distracted to pay attention to the activities of the royals, and his father was too busy scheming to give him another sibling (disgustingly) in his bedroom to pay attention to Kristofer’s plots.

He waited in one of the grandest, most intimidating receiving rooms in the palace, with a table set out for a particular upper class variant of afternoon tea that required participants to understand arcane and mystical etiquette to correctly consume. Then he sat back and prepared for the ambassador to be shown in.

Ambassador Stefan Stadē, a tall man with striking blue eyes, examined the room as he was escorted towards the table. He gave a deep bow towards the prince, his light blonde hair becoming a little unkempt as he did so. "Thank you for inviting me for tea, your majesty. Especially here. This room is quite stunning."

“Why thank you,” Prince Kristofer said. “And it’s ‘your highness’; last I checked my father was still alive, unless you know something I don’t?” he chuckled. “Please, take a seat.”

"Ah, my apologies. Honorifics don't translate from Eirian very well. We tend to have one single word that can translate into a variety of words in English." Stadē studied the tea set, unwilling to touch anything until his host did so first. He knew that this was by no means a social call. "So, how may I assist you, your highness?"

“Well,” he said, reaching out for a sandwich, “it’s more like how I can assist you. I hear you’ve been having some trouble with Kerlians recently.”

"Define trouble, your highness." Stadē joked. "Sure, the Gabrielle Pierre affair wasn't the most pleasant, but any crisis that would result from it has since been mitigated. Certain people on the Council wanted a reason to push Eiria further away anyways, so it was only a matter of time before they blew something out of proportion." He raised his eyebrows. "I appreciate your concern, however. I'm curious, how would you be able to help us in this regard?"

“Well, I’m sure you don’t believe that Kerlile will just leave matters alone as it stands,” Kristofer shook his head. “They are only going to become more forceful. This time it was Gabrielle but next time it may well be Kerlian covert agents or even - rocks forbid - an Aurora.”

The Eirian glanced downward, taking a bite out of a sandwich. "While I hope that it doesn't come to that, we have experience dealing with Kerlian agents, including Auroras. And I can't imagine the international backlash that would occur if the world found out that the Council is still using Auroras to do their bidding. At the moment, we can only speculate, and I believe we will have to wait and see what, if anything, the Kerlian government will do in response."

Kristofer nodded, chewing his sandwich. “Indeed, indeed,” he mused. “Still, having such an important Kerlian family in Eiria opens you to all sorts of difficulties.”

"True, but that's just part of governance. Call it an occupational hazard, if you will." Ambassador Stadē gave an unassuming smile. "These sandwiches are delicious, by the way."

“I’ll make sure to pass your compliments on to the kitchen,” Kristofer said, smiling out of the corner of his mouth. “I only worry that these Kerlians are more trouble than you need right now, what with the Xiomeran threat and all. And Natasha, well, she was doing so well here in Zongongia. It’s a lot of upheaval for them, no?”

Stadē's face went neutral. "I do admire your compassion for the Robinson family. And while it may be a little rough for them right now, I have faith that they'll be able to get through it. Rest assured, your highness. Your cousins are safe in Eiria, I promise you."

“Ah, if only,” he sighed. “But I fear that it is only a matter of time before the Xiomerans take hostile action, as they continually threaten. I worry what will become of Natasha, and the baby, in such a scenario. It would be better for the baby, do you not think, if its father was also present?”

"What kind of hostile actions do you fear that Xiomera will undertake?" The ambassador sat back in his chair. "A war on Eirian soil is highly unlikely, given the current state of the Xiomeran navy. If a war would begin, I highly doubt that the Robinson family would be anywhere close to the line of fire." He paused. "And as of your last point, I'm not quite sure I understand. Could you elaborate, please?"

“In Zongongia, both parents’ rights are respected,'' Kristofer said, sipping his tea and staring icily at the Eirian. “The father’s as well as the mother’s. To only respect the mother is, well, very Kerlian, wouldn’t you agree? I wish to see my baby born here, in Zongongia. Natasha is attempting to deny me that right.”

Stadē's tone went frigid. "Even though family law is not my specialty, I know for a fact that Eiria also respects the rights of both parents. However, we also respect the rights of asylees to not be potentially blackmailed and practically imprisoned because of a pregnancy. And given that there is historical precedent for that very scenario, I'm not sure what you want me to do, your highness." He thought for a moment. "And if I make a recommendation? If you are going to try to compare us to Kerlile, try not to use a centuries-old law of your own to help justify it. The Eirian Republic does not take kindly to draconian policies."

“Draconian policies like allowing a homeowner to be dictator within their own home?” Kristofer responded idly. “But please, do go on. Tell me of how wonderful and safe it is to be Eirian. Unless you’re one of those Xiomeran athletes, who you failed to protect, perhaps.”

"Blaming us for Xiomeran cruelty? How twisted of a mindset, your highness. Perhaps that victim-blaming attitude is part of why Eiria gets more asylum seekers than Zongongia does. And as for the dictator remark, I never knew that you were so against property rights. When did the Zongongian royal family start expressing its support for the radical wing of the Milintican Communist Party?"

“Ah, I knew this would be a waste of time,” Kristofer sighed. “Eirians are borderline anarchists, no respect for the laws of other countries. You can go now.”

The ambassador stood, finishing his cup of tea. "There's the disdain for personal liberty. Thank you for taking your mask off, your highness, and showing me how autocratic you would be if you had actual power. Thank the angels for the Zongongian Parliament." As he walked towards the door, he turned on his heel, looking back at the Prince one last time. "Speaking of which, I'll give Prime Minister Kristensen your regards. Farewell, Prince Kristofer."

“If he’s still Prime Minister tomorrow,” Kristofer muttered, standing up and walking away to the other door without further word.

[Lauchenoiria]

Camille Pierre and Imogen Robinson walked home from school together, having the same conversation they’d had every school day since Gabrielle’s visit. The pair were quite a sight to an outsider. Camille was wearing a navy knee-length skirt and a pale blue blouse, her hair tied back in a French braid. She wore tights and sensible boots, a warm jacket and a plain blue warm hat. She looked foreign, yes, but boring foreign.

Imogen, on the other hand, was flaunting her Kerlianness for all it was worth. She wore tight but flexible trousers in bright purple over a pair of pink boots with tiny kitten heels. Her tight pink top was made of sturdier material than it looked, and hung down longer at one side than the other, creating a semi-dress like effect. Her long jacket had a military-style design and her hat literally had a Kerlian flag knitted on the front.

“You see how they treat me in the playground,” Imogen said once again. “The Eirians, laughing at me for being Kerlian.” They were actually laughing at the fact she was standing on a bench giving a speech about the virtues of gynarchism, but Imogen would not let truth get in the way of a good argument.

“Yes, yes, and they will never fully accept us, so I should call my mother and ask her to take me back to Kerlile and, oh yes, bring you too,” Camille recited in a monotone. “You ask me this every day. The answer is still no.”

“I’m going to keep asking until you come to your senses,” Imogen informed Camille, skipping ahead as they approached the house. Camille rolled her eyes and hopped past, and they ended up racing up to the door, laughing. They’d had this conversation before; Camille had chosen to find it amusing.

The pair went inside, throwing their schoolbags down in the hallway and play-fighting with each other all the way to the kitchen where they found Natasha, waving away residual smoke from a tray of slightly-burned muffins.

“I’m getting better!” Natasha said to the pair as they entered. “I didn’t set the smoke alarm off this time! And I think they might even be edible!”

Natasha had taken to spending her days learning to bake and cook. It turned out she did not have a natural talent in the kitchen. Still, she was determined to learn, and it wasn’t like she had much else to occupy her days. She didn’t want to start a general education course only to pause halfway through to have her baby. She preferred to wait until the baby was born, so she had to do something with her time.

“Well, let me try then,” Camille said, reaching, only for Natasha to slap her hand away with an oven glove.

“Hot!” Natasha scolded. “There’s fruit tubs in the fridge.”

“You are definitely ready to become a mother,” Imogen grumbled as she headed for the fridge, passing Camille one of said fruit tubs before taking one herself. “Denying us muffins in favour of healthy food.”

Natasha snorted, chasing them away with more instructions to do their homework. The rest of the evening was uneventful until Carmen got home from work. Once Carmen had returned, and the family had eaten, Carmen gathered everyone around the table, sat down and looked serious. The girls became uneasy.

“We need to discuss the incident with Gabrielle,” Carmen began. “Each of you has told me that I apparently overreacted, as have numerous foreign media outlets. I have taken the time to consider this, and I have concluded that I was both right, and wrong.”

“That doesn’t make sense, Mum,” Imogen pointed out.

“Wait until I finish. I was right to be cautious. We are, all of us, in a precarious position. The Zongongians want us returned to them; and the Kerlians could change their minds on the matter of permitting us to live at any second. I do not want to lie to you, so I am being very blunt here. We cannot trust anyone, and we must always exercise caution. That said, I did overreact around Gabrielle. I should have at least heard her out before demanding she was removed.”

“Thank you for admitting that,” Natasha said. “Will you apologise to the Pierre family?”

“Will I…” Carmen began sounding outraged, then sighed. “Fine, I will. Show of good faith, and all that. Camille, I am sorry, to begin. I should not have prevented you from speaking with your sister, if that was your desire.”

Everyone turned to Camille, who hesitated for a long time before answering. “I didn’t know if I did, when she came. This is all really hard. I… I miss Kerlile. And I’m scared of Kerlile. I never know what to think any more. But, well, yeah. I would have liked to speak to her.”

“Then I’m sorry,” Carmen said. “And I will try to rectify it however I can.”

The timer beeped, and Natasha’s attempt at a homemade crème brulée was brought out onto the table. Everyone tried it, made fake choking noises and then finished their plates regardless. They laughed, and it seemed like everything had been sorted, and everyone was happy. But deep down, almost unnoticed, an unease remained. And only time would tell if anything became of it.

[Lauchenoiria]

Grapevale International Airport, Kerlile
12th September

When Gabrielle stepped off the plane into Kerlile, a stern-faced official turned to the Eirians who had delivered her, and instructed them to leave the country immediately. If they didn’t have enough fuel, they were welcome to stop off in Lauchenoiria, or anywhere else, but they were not welcome in the Matriarchy for one more second. Gabrielle was taken inside where her sister Eva awaited her.

Gabrielle, shaken, was taken back to the Pierre household while Eva informed her of the Council’s new order to deport any Eirian who did not pledge their loyalty to the Council and apply for Kerlian citizenship. During the whole drive, Eva chattered incessantly about all the ways they were going to make Eiria pay for their impertinence; not noticing that Gabrielle was shaken and withdrawn, and in no mood to listen to this.

Upon arrival at home, Gabrielle had pled exhaustion and retired upstairs, where she crept into her eldest sister Olivia’s room. When Olivia returned after work, she found Gabrielle asleep on her bed, the sheets stained with tears. Olivia curled up next to her sister and let her sleep.

The next morning, the pair woke, and Olivia gently washed her sister’s face and waited for the younger woman to talk on her own terms. After a while, Gabrielle began to tell Olivia what happened. “It’s not that I was scared or anything,” Gabrielle assured her sister over and over. “I don’t want you to think I’m weak. It’s just that Camille looked so lost, and it was just the indignity of it all!”

Olivia, who did not care if Gabrielle was weak, but knew how much the appearance of strength mattered to her sister, nodded throughout her sister’s explanation. Then she told Gabrielle it would be okay, fetched her sister a large pile of comfort food, and took Gabrielle back to her own bedroom, where she promptly fell back asleep for the second time, this time with chocolate cake smeared on the sheets in place of tears.

*

Pierre Household, Kerlile
Present Day

Olivia returned from the Council Archives, a thick pile of handwritten notes under her arms. The Archive still prohibited digital technology for security reasons. That had not stopped Olivia from carrying out her research, however. She had been sceptical, at first, of her country’s allegations against Eiria. It did not make sense to her, a democrat. Kerlile was the totalitarian mess she hoped to reform, while Eiria was a model liberal democracy.

She’d watched the video Imogen Robinson sent her mother nearly a hundred times, each time expecting something to jump out at her. She’d called Natasha Robinson and heard her side of the story. She had not managed to speak to Camille; apparently Carmen Robinson was prohibiting the minors under her roof from having any contact with Kerlile and Camille was less rebellious than Imogen.

It was her lack of contact with Camille that cemented Olivia’s opinion, in the end. There was something very rotten in the state of Eiria. It remained to be seen, however, if that rot was Eirian or imported from her own Kerlile, via Zongongia, in the shape of Carmen Robinson. Or both; both was always an option.

She’d begun her research, using her OMCP to study Eirian laws and attempt to work out exactly what had happened from a legal perspective. The research was damning for Carmen; it appeared blame could indeed be laid at the feet of the former Councillor. The woman her mother had granted mercy; when there was absolutely no precedent for such an act. Despite years of their families attempting to kill each other.

Olivia was naturally a Robinson sympathiser, especially over her own family. But Camille was her precious little sister, that she would endure anything to protect. And the idea that Camille was being forbidden to speak to her? Oh, Olivia was not happy. Suddenly, all the lessons her mother had tried to teach her as a child, about ruthlessness and survival, came flooding back, corrupting her from within.

Which was why she had gone to the Archive. The information she had found would ensure that Carmen Robinson posed no further threat to her family. It did not really matter if she was indeed a threat, but any possibility had to be eliminated.

“I have the information,” she informed her mother and sisters.

“Look, I’m not sure this is a good idea,” Gabrielle said hesitantly.

“I am,” Eva clapped gleefully. “Finally, Olivia, you’ve seen sense!”

Olivia’s conscience rose up, whispering words of alarm in her mind that her most authoritarian, somewhat sadistic sister agreed with this plan. That would have been the moment for Olivia to shove down her consciousness and become a true Pierre, but that would have been too cliché. No, instead, Olivia suddenly looked back at her own activities over the last week and became somewhat horrified. She dropped the pile of papers at her feet and blinked a few times.

“Okay, everyone,” Councillor Pauline said to her daughters, gesturing for Olivia to sit down. “Listen, I made a decision to grant mercy to Carmen Robinson. I do not regret that…”

“What!? She’s basically kidnapped our sister, your daughter! How can you still agree with that moment of weakness, Mother!?” Eva snapped.

“Eva, please,” Pauline said, pained. “This could not go on! You know this! The feud, all of it. I acted how I had to make things better for all of us. Camille being in Eiria is not Carmen Robinson’s fault; it’s mine! Because I agreed to Patel’s ultimatum with Alt-Ed! And scared her away.”

“No, it’s Olivia’s, for that stupid deal,” Eva glared at her elder sister.

“You’re both wrong!” Gabrielle snapped eventually, standing up. “It’s Zongongia’s! This whole thing is Zongongia’s fault! Who made Carmen even more paranoid? Zongongia. Who treated Natasha like a walking baby incubator? Zongongia. Who pretended to be a safe haven for wayward Daughters, and then turned that on its head? Zongongia! Eiria is a distraction, they are NOT the threat here.”

The other three Pierres stared at Gabrielle in surprise for a few moments.

“Blame shouldn’t matter,” Olivia said eventually. “What matters is how we ensure Camille’s safety. Preferably without the products of my momentary insanity,” she said, staring warily at the papers.

“Imogen Robinson claims that Camille does not, at present, wish to return to Kerlile,” Pauline spoke so quietly it was almost a whisper. “Therefore, we would be acting against her wishes if we acted in any way. If that situation changes, Imogen will inform me. For now, we do nothing. And before you object, Eva, that is my final word as head of this family. We will wait and see.”