Kings and Queens - IC - Cobalt Network Sponsored

by **Chewion** » Thu Dec 27, 2018 9:43 pm

Democracy... while it lasts is more bloody than either aristocracy or monarchy. Remember, democracy never lasts long. It soon wastes, exhausts, and murders itself. There is never a democracy that did not commit suicide - John Adams

A monarchy conducted with infinite wisdom and infinite benevolence is the most perfect of all possible governments - Ezra Stiles

The monarchy is a part of the state. It exists to serve the people. - Uknown

Welcome to King’s and Queen’s. An RP set in a world where pure democratic Republican governments failed and fell by the wayside following the failure in America. In this RP you will choose your nation and their ruling family and lead it to greatness. The focus of the RP is heavily on the characters and families themselves while still having nation based RP aspects. Players will be allowed some creativity for history however it must not conflict with OP history, a previously accepted applicants history, and must be approved by the OP or Co-OP.

OOC

COBALT NETWORK • COBALT SPONSORED ROLEPLAYS • COBALT NETWORK RECRUITMENT HUB[/b]

HISTORY

RULES
1. No Metagaming or Godmodding
2. No Flaming
3. No Puppets will be allowed if discovered player will immediately be Banned
4. Be Realistic, Rome wasn't built in a day, and you can't rebuild it in a day
5. No Posting for other players or NPCs, if an NPC is needed then ask the International Entity
6. Listen to the OP and Co-Op(s)
7. You will lose sometimes, accept that
8. Let war and conflicts build up
9. Don't only post about war, you are running a nation and family after all
10. Bad Grammar on a consistent basis is not going to be taken lightly
11. Unless explicitly stated in a post, or telegrammed to the International Entity, it will not be considered canon
12. No Toxicity
13. Minimum post length is 2 Paragraph, this is mandatory and not doing this will mean posts are retconned. Longer is preferred.
14. Inactive Nations will be removed after 2 Weeks, these nations can be revived if the player returns within a month, however, if the territory has been taken then it will remain with the country that took it
15. Reservations last 1 Week
16. Time is set at 6 months every IE Post (2-3 weeks.) This means for character interaction use Google Docs or something similar and then include those meetings/interactions in your post.
17. Remember to Have fun, and that this is a game.

MAP
https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/ ... pdated.png

by **Auropa** » Sat Dec 29, 2018 3:35 am

The Argentinian Empire

‘The day was bright and clear as the sun’s rays shone down upon the shore and adoring crowd collected on its length. Beyond them sailed their mighty First Fleet as it paraded its vessels past the city and its citizens. At its head, the carrier flagship ERV-Dauntless cutting through the water as it delivered their glorious Emperor to a local military installation so that he may inspect his naval pride.’

At least that’s how Christian Barrios III figured his papers would describe the otherwise mundane naval manoeuvre.

“You worry to much.” His brother and head admiral Elejandro stated as he waved to the distant shore. “Look at how the people flock to the shoreline, they love their Royal Navy.”

“Everybody loves a parade Elejandro. What I’m worried about is educated people being denied jobs, positions and opportunities because they didn’t spend a few years working on a boat or for some admiralty board.” Christian responded behind a stoic smile and occasional wave.

“You know how I feel about this. I agree that the people deserve more freedoms and I’ll admit that some cultural reforms could, and I say again could, be useful to the empire. But weakening the military is a dangerous and wasteful idea. While none hold grudges from war, we’re still short on local friends and I don’t think that any of the Northern and Eastern powers would take us seriously without our naval backbone. Not to mention how our ground forces are in desperate need of modernization and our pilots are stretched thin between our skies and seas. And I don’t think I even need to mention the technological and economical benefits our peacetime doctrines bring.” Elejandro replied behind his own practiced, bright smile.

Both were well versed in this argument after all the practice they had and the conversation always went this way. They’d agree on the problems and the necessity of a solution, but when it came to implementation they were at a perpetual impasse. Christian believed that while useful and a source of pride, giving the military so many social advantages would at best restrict the growing empire and at worst, divide it. Elejandro meanwhile believed that the benefits of said military outweighed the potential risks and felt that the best way to better the populace and economy was through precise controlled actions that could only be properly managed through the military.

“I know the benefits El” Christian began as he placed a hand on his trusted advisor’s shoulder “And I’m not so naïve or young to think that equality is the future like our dear younger brother. I want to see our navy beyond these shores, our people spread beyond this continent, I want our empire to take its place in the world. And that means we must not only be at our best, but beyond it.”

“And for that we must encourage all of our people to think and act beyond what they are now.” Elejandro added “Well your highness, if speeches could dictate the future then I’d retire young, assured of our prosperity under the protection of your big mouth.”

“You do remember that as your Emperor I can command you to swim back?”

“Yeah but you never would. I’m far too much to fun to have around, plus I have the liquor key. Now then, I believe we’ve waved and smiled enough. Come, we should continue our preparations in comfort. Ruler or not, you should still ensure your decrees will be popular and supported by the council if you want to see them properly carried out.”

With the alluring thought of a chilled wine to counter the less pleasant reminder of explaining his plans and then pushing to get them accepted, Christian gave in and with a curt nod of his head, led the duo back into the ship and its royal quarters.

Argentinian News Network

----
After a proud tour of his royal forces, Emperor Christian Barrios III returned to the capital in order to discuss and plan the future of our people amongst his trusted advisors. While much is still to be finalised and revealed, First Prince and Admiral of the Fleet, Elejandro Barrios gave a statement outside the Royal Court of Buenos Aires today, stating that: “The Empire will soon turn its attention towards expanding its industrial power and developing its place as a global minded empire through its naval reach and economic strength” and went on to hint towards future diplomatic missions stating that “the Empire is united beneath our majesty’s rule and while the good people of Argentina will always be his primary concern, we must end our time of seclusion and look to developing our foreign ties.”

With recent increased spending on his majesty’s education plan along with refitting’s within the empire’s naval fleets, many are curious as to what the future holds and how our leader will develop and prepare the country for his plans. Some are understandably cautious about opening ties to foreign powers, though many see it as a prime opportunity to further the economy and encourage growth while bringing in new resources for the empire.
----

by **Bentus** » Sun Dec 30, 2018 5:49 am

Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

The plane idled on the runway, its engines gradually winding down from their initial roar as the ground crew rushed around it like servants catering to its every need. An entire runway of Rio’s busy international airport had been set aside for this specific, honoured arrival, and no expense had been spared in readying a warm welcome for the passengers onboard. A red carpet had already been stretched so that it extended out from the bottom of the walkway to the tarmac to a waiting limousine, while a velvet rope and stern bodyguards ensured that the gathered press remained contained and polite. A few soldiers from the Brazil’s Imperial Army, wearing their finest dress uniforms, stood rigidly at attention as they waited to escort the Emperor’s guests, while a Navy orchestra began to play the French national anthem.

Prince Pablo I resisted the urge to pull at the constricting uniform that pressed against his figure. The youngest prince of Brazil and the third in-line to the Imperial throne, Pablo felt the sweltering heat of Rio’s summer sun bearing down upon him. He couldn’t help but feel ridiculous in the trim-cut and tailored dress uniform. Everything from the medals pinned to his chest - honours that he had obtained for doing little more than being born - to the cushioned pauldrons that subtly made him appear more broad-shouldered felt fake and artificial. Everything about the scene, from his standing straight and firm beside his siblings to his grandfather - the reigning Emperor - waiting patiently in front of them, was a staged portrait for the cameras and hand-picked journalists. It was all one gigantic publicity stunt, a show for the people, and the Prince was a prop amidst it all.

Pablo’s gaze shifted to the idling jet’s tail, pausing on the red, white and blue of the French tricolour. Being in the public eye was nothing new for him. It was a fact of life for the royal family, and it was a role which he had accepted as his duty to play. He could smile and wave, talk convincingly on an array of topics, and appear intelligent even when caught off-guard. He had willingly walked the walk and talked the talk since the moment he was born, but this was different. This sent a lump of stone plummeting to the base of his stomach until it sunk to his feet and weighed him down like a pair of chains. It twisted his gut into knots and bows that confused the butterflies which fluttered inside of his chest. On the outside, Prince Pablo was calm and composed: a regal representative of the Imperial throne. But on the inside, he had never felt so far out of his depth. On this instance, he wasn’t just the youthful face smiling in the background as the lenses focused on his older brother and sister. Today he could feel every camera trained on him specifically, watching his every move like hawks toying with their prey.

A gentle elbow to his abdomen tore Pablo from his reverie, causing him to blink in surprise as he subtly shifted his eyes to glance towards his older brother. Pedro - or Crown Prince Pedro III, heir to the Brazilian Empire if you wanted to be technical - winked at his baby brother before mouthing a single, silent word.

Relax.

Taking a deep breath, Pablo tried to heed Pedro’s advice. He pushed the media and the eyes of the nation from his mind, instead turning to focus his attention on the plane’s entrance at the top of the waiting stairway. However, he froze as he wasn’t met by the expected closed door on the aircraft’s side. The cabin crew must have completed their checks while he was distracted, because Pablo was greeted by the sight of some of the most powerful men and women on the planet. The King of France and his family exited their personal jet with a practiced confidence and composure that marked them out as public figures, the media gallery immediately exploding into flashes of light as every outlet tried to snap that best-selling cover. Pablo felt his heart skip a beat as it pounded in his chest, his eyes locked on a young girl around his age.

He had never met Princess Roseline, the French King’s only daughter. He had only seen her in the videos and photos he had trawled through after being informed of their engagement. She looked as beautiful as he had been assured she would, her hair hanging softly to her shoulders. Pablo had never spoken to her himself, although he had heard her speak in recorded interviews and speeches. For some reason the approaching wedding and not struck him as being truly real until just this moment, when his bride-to-be suddenly transformed from a collection of ink and pixels into a living figure striding down the stairway. Even though he continued to stand firm and steady, looking every part the confident prince, inwardly Pablo felt like the ground had just given way under his feet.

The Emperor of Brazil wore a warm smile as he strode forward to meet his guests of honour at the base of the stairway. His wide grin caused a few smile-lines to form at the ends of both of his eyes, the wrinkles betraying his age just as much as his grey hair and neatly trimmed beard. The French King led his family down the stairway, taking the lead as was tradition. It was customary for the first contact to be between the two heads of the families, but there was no reason for it to be anything but cordial.

“King Napoleon, it is a pleasure to see you again.” The Emperor’s voice was somewhat hoarse from a lifetime of public speaking, but there was a youthful vibrancy in its tone. He extended a firm hand out to greet his counterpart and soon-to-be son-in-law. “Allow me to be the first to welcome Your Majesty to Brazil. I hope that you had a pleasant flight across the Atlantic?”

by **The Frozen Forest** » Sun Dec 30, 2018 10:02 am

The jet skittered on the runway three times before it connected with and remained stable on the tarmac. The vehicle happened to be a specially made Dassault Falcon 5X Business Jet, produced in France only a year before. It was one of the many things that Napoleon VII found himself to be proud of, apart from his children. Hundreds of thousands of Francs had been put into the jet, making it run on less fuel at a faster pace than the standard model. As it taxied onto the runway, its pilots chatted quietly among themselves. Gautier Sylvestre and Geoffroy Pueyrredón were older gentlemen who had served the Royal Family since their youth. They were among the most well trained and loyal pilots in the country. They would not be celebrating the Wedding unfortunately, but would remain with the plane in case of emergency. They both found the job boring, but they were being well paid for it and thus it was worth the boredom. "C'est votre capitaine qui parle. Nous avons maintenant atterri et vous pouvez commencer à partir." Gautier laughed at Geoffroy as he announced to the passengers that they were free to leave. It was funny because neither of them could actually prevent the King and his family from doing anything and likely they were already departing the plane.

Napoleon VII glared up at the sun as he exited the Jet. He had been to Brazil before, but he had never met the family, apart from its patriarch, with which his daughter was about to marry into. The one thing he hated most about Brazil was the blazing heat. At 94 years old he had already visited several of the hottest countries on the planet. These sorts of trips never got easier, the older he became the more sensitive he was to the heat and cold. There was a small risk that the heat might do him in if he stayed in it too long, so hopefully any ceremony that was expected at the airport did not last long. As he made his way down the stairs of the Jet there was a large amount of flashing lights in front of him. The media had begun to take their pictures of the Royal Family. Making a mental note to look at some of them later, the ailing man continued with his kids trailing behind him.

After the King came the Crown Prince of The Kingdom of France. Napoleon Bonaparte did not share his fathers sensitivity to the heat. Wearing a casual suit, he was accompanied by his wife and child, also named Napoleon. In truth, Napoleon did not want to be in Brazil for reasons other than the heat. The Brazilians? Really? Couldn't she have married into European Nobility at least? His sister could have done so much better, but instead she would be marrying into a country where the King had to share power with socialists. There was nothing worse than a socialist apart from a outright anarchist. He despised the ideology and its practitioners. If he were King, there would be no Royal Wedding between France and Brazil, no, absolutely not. He would set his sister up with someone proper, like an Austrian Duke. "Father, why do you look so angry?" He heard his son prompt him as he reached the bottom of the stairs. He neglected to answer, deigning instead to pretend that he hadn't heard his boy.

Prince Alexandre and Prince Lionel came next. Never could two brothers be so different in personality despite sharing the same color of hair. Alexandre looked like a child in a candy store as he stepped down the stairs. Whereas King Napoleon hated the heat, and Crown Prince Napoleon hated the people, Alexandre could not be more happy with where he was at. Brazil was a fresh paradise, full of unseen clubs and partying opportunities. He would be looking into it while he was in the country, perhaps so he could take a holiday in the future. On the other hand, Lionel looked neither happy nor angry nor hot. His eyes searched the crowd before him and he charismatically raised his hand for the cameras, waving to the photographers. He had always been good with the press, far better than his older brothers.

Finally, Princess Roseline exited the Jet and made her way down the stairs. She was incredibly nervous beneath her confident facade. Hopefully the nerves bubbling within her didn't show on her face while the Cameras were at it. The entire night she had thought about her Wedding. Tomorrow she would marry into the Brazilian Royal Family, to a man she had never met. She was given no choice, it was her duty as a Princess of France, that didn't mean she felt at ease over the situation. She had turned down dozens of suitors over the past four years. Dukes, Counts, Barons, she had been courted by men as far away as Russia and the United Kingdom of America. Her father never gave her a choice this time though, perhaps because he knew she would somehow ruin the match.

Prince Pablo I was to be her husband. She didn't even speak Portuguese, how would she talk to him? The more she pondered it, the more anxious she felt over meeting him. A sprinkle of defiance had crossed her mind but had to be dismissed. She couldn't do anything to hinder the match without dishonoring her family. As she stepped onto the foot of the runway, she looked around at the people before her. The Media hadn't stopped their rapid photo snapping. She recognized first the Emperor of Brazil, whom she had seen pictures of in French Newspapers days after the announcement of her betrothal. There was another man who looked confident with himself, standing next to a person who happened to be starring at her. Feeling momentarily unnerved, she turned and stood behind her brother Lionel as her father went to meet the Emperor.

Napoleon VII and Gabriel II represented the old breed of Monarchs. Gabriel himself was 76 years old, roughly two decades younger than the French Monarch, yet a decade and six years into his ripe old age. Funnily enough, despite Napoleon being much older than Gabriel, Gabriel would technically be Napoleons father in law. Napoleon tended to find that Monarchs who were old like him were always more pleasant than the younger generation. For the most part they were concerned with the succession of their sons, they tended to be less tyrannical and violent, though that was the rule and not the exception. Napoleon had met Gabriel once before, during the process of arranging the marriage between his daughter and Gabriels son.

"My flight was well, my pilots always seem to avoid turbulence, even on longer journeys. Its a pleasure to see you as well, as well as the beautiful country of Brazil." He was lying but at his age, no one would be able to tell that. "This is my family. May i introduce my son and heir, Crown Prince Napoleon, as well as my other sons Alexandre and Lionel. It is my pleasure to introduce my only daughter, Princess Roseline. One of my sons cannot join us unfortunately, as he had some sort of emergency with his company headquarters in Toulon." He gestured with his hand to each child as he introduced them, allowing attention to focus on Roseline a moment longer as the Media took another rapid flurry of photos.

by **Chewion** » Sun Dec 30, 2018 10:34 am

Peterhof Palace, Saint Petersburg, Russian Empire

Tsar Alexander waited just inside the palace front doors for the French Countess to arrive. Alexander has briefly met her before while touring Europe with his parents only a few months ago and really only new she was a year above him and easily one of the prettiest royals in Europe. So much so he found himself nervous now as he waited for her to arrive from the airport in the limousine he had sent to pick her up.

Ariane was stunned by the opulent interior of the limousine. When she had stepped onto the runway she had expected something nice, she was meeting the Tsar after all. Still, being as she was only a countess she had only seen limousines from time to time. Despite being the niece of the King of France, she was not incredibly wealthy. Albeit she was far better off than any of the commoners, especially in Normandy. Ariane felt along the handle of the door. She would be meeting with the Tsar. She hadn’t stopped to think about it beforehand when her father had informed her of who she was to meet. Now a well of nervousness had built up inside her.

As the limousine pulled up to the front doors of the palace, she looked towards those waiting to greet her. Her eyes fell upon the figure of a man who looked to be about her age. Something about his appearance put her fears to rest. She took a breath and a man opened the door for her, helping her out. She realized with more clarity that she had met him before, once when he was touring the continent.

Alexander couldn’t help but contain his smile as Ariane stepped from the limo. Clearly a testimony to French and European beauty and womanhood, he couldn’t help but be immediately enthralled by her. Trying to maintain his composure, Alexander smiled as she neared him before taking her hand and planting a kiss on it saying “Bonjour ma dame. Puis-je dire que vous êtes vraiment la plus belle chose que j'ai jamais vue.” Switching from French to Russian he said “I understand you speak my language? Impressive in my opinion. Now what would you like to do first”

Ariane was surprised by the use of her native language by the Tsar. She imagined that he knew more than just French and Russian though, he would have had the best tutors in Eastern Europe to teach him. She contained her surprise as best she could, trying to put on an air of confidence in front of someone like Alexander. “Je suis honore…” she began, then came up with something else. “Je suis surpris que quelqu'un d'aussi charmant que vous avez remarqué quelqu'un comme moi.” She thought back to her lessons with Sabine Dubos, her old Russian tutor. She decided against venturing forwards with Russian, not feeling confident with the language despite being fluent.

She was suddenly prompted by Alexander to speak Russian. Inwardly she would have groaned, but thought on her feet for the words. “I was taught by one of the best Russian tutors in Western Europe. He was a member of your fathers government, if i remember correctly.” She realized suddenly that she was trailing off. “Well, what do Tsar’s usually do in their free time?”

Alexander smiled saying “Il faudrait être aveugle pour ne pas vous remarquer.” Getting lost in her beauty for a moment he quickly snapped back to reality and said “Well it depends, my father…” Pausing momentarily as a wave of sadness visibly hit him. “My father liked to spend time with us or playing golf. I prefer going out and meeting the people or playing some sport. However we can do whatever you like. Be it a game of football (soccer) or a walk around the gardens.”

Noticing that they had been standing on the steps he added in “But regardless of what you decide let’s go inside first.” Walking next to her, he led her inside the front doors of the grand Peterhof Palace and turned to her to see her reaction. While not the biggest palace in Russia or even Saint Petersburg, Peterhof was built as a direct competitor to Versailles so it was definitely one that brought out a sense of wonder and grandeur.

Ariane offered a gracious smile as she was led into the palace by the Czar. Soccer didn’t really appeal to her, though her little brother adored it. Walking around the garden was something she could enjoy, but nothing really compared to riding horses. She had stole off to the stables a lot when she was a girl, earning her the ire of the stable master. She looked towards Alexander, who had been gracious and she noticed the smile spread across his face. Her mother had once told her that the father of respect was confidence. She realized that she was still trying to shake off some of the nervousness that had built up inside of her over the meeting.

As they walked through the front doors of the Peterhof Palace, she became aware of a distinct familiarity, yet also a bit of exoticness to it. Something about the palace reminded her of the Royal Palace in Versailles, but the architecture and designs of the buildings interior were identifiably Slavic. For one reason or another, she couldn’t help but be impressed by it. Wasn’t this exactly the sort of Palace that she had so ambitiously wanted to live in? She glanced at Alexander, wondering if he was offering her courtesy or if he was attracted to her. Judging by the smile plastered across his face, it was the latter.

She didn’t feel nervous after meeting with and rejecting the sons of Dukes and Counts across Europe and the America’s. Whether her feelings were amplified by mutual attraction or the grandeur of the Peterhof Palace and all she had seen since landing at the airport, she didn’t know. “I would like to go on a walk so we can talk.” Hopefully her directness would make her look more confident than she felt. Confidence was attractive, isn’t it? She wondered faintly if he would be accompanied by guards as Kings so often were. She decided not to mention it.

Alexander nodded and continued to smile saying “Sure thing. I’ll have the guards leave us so we can have privacy.” After a few minutes the two found themselves standing just outside the palace and in the gardens.

Turning to Ariane, Alexander smiled as he said “So tell me about yourself. Besides being the prettiest woman in Europe and speaking Russian I’m afraid I know little about you. Something I hope to quickly remedy.”

Ariane felt satisfied that the Tsar had commanded the Guards away. She understood that they were a necessary part of Royal life, she was surprised by how quickly they obeyed Alexander though. Without hesitation, it seemed that he carried weight in court despite only just ascending to the Throne. In France it was much the same, but her cousin had told her that in Italy or Britain, such immediate obedience was unusual for new monarchs. Perhaps it was a cultural feature shared by nations like France and Russia? In any case, seeing him command them made her feel happy for whatever reason.

She looked around at the Garden, it was just as beautiful as the one in Versailles, but not quite as pretty as their estate beside the city of Paris. Something that the Royal Family tended to boast about was the beauty of that particular garden, with imports from every habitable continent. She turned her attention away from the flowers and towards Alexander. “I’ve heard that my cousin is a close second.” She was of course referring to Princess Roseline, who had about as many suitors as Ariane herself had. “My father is the Count of Normandy, but i would think you would already know that.” She thought about it for a long moment, then came to a decision. “I love horseback riding, when i was little my father used to beat me for breaking into the stables at night. He had this Arabian horse that he bought for a few hundred thousand Francs, he was my favorite.”

Alexander smiled as she spoke, finding her voice soothing and sweet like honey. Almost getting lost in it he realized she had stopped and quickly said “Next to you your cousin is a troll. I uh… I mean no disrespect but it is the truth as I see it.” Feeling slightly awkward for saying that he quickly said “I enjoy horseback riding. The freedom you feel when riding is unmeasurable. If you wanted we could go horseback riding later?”

As he said that an idea popped into his head and he pulled out his phone sending a text quickly before saying “Sorry about that. I normally don’t use my phone on a date but it was important. Anyways, tell me more about yourself.”

Ariane felt faintly offended as Alexander called her cousin a troll. Perhaps she was a bit prissy, but something about the word Troll made her angry. She bit her lip lightly, knowing that she shouldn’t correct him. Other than that single indication, she gave off nothing to suggest that she was offended by the statement. Then he looked at his phone and she felt angry. After a moment her temper cooled and she responded amiably. “ I would love to go horseback riding with you.” Better to focus on what they had in common than the Tsar’s faux pas.

She looked him over as she spoke. She would lying if she didn’t admit she was attracted to him. The sensation of attraction was something she was unfamiliar with. Generally her suitors were of high positions but all too often they were much older than her, or much younger or plainly unattractive. Tsar Alexander was attractive and she felt her heart thump in her chest. She allowed the thought of suddenly kissing him to pass from mind, remembering that she was not a dirty commoner but a member of the French nobility. She would have to act according to etiquette.

“I think the Palace is beautiful. I’ve only ever seen one that could compare to it.” She enjoyed talking about herself, but she felt faintly curious about the Tsar, of whom she herself knew very little. “I would like to know more about you. Have you ever been to Versailles?”

Alexander smiled again as she spoke, his eyes locking hers and for a moment he felt a strong urge to kiss her but he worried she might not want that.

Coming back to reality he replied “I have been once with my parents on a visit a few years ago. I don’t remember much but I loved the gardens there.” Pausing again for a moment he studied her eyes before thinking to himself Screw it.

Ensuring nobody was around he quickly leaned in for a kiss hoping he was right.

Ariane felt...confused by what had happened. She had admittedly been studying her potential suitor, wondering about where the meeting would go. She thought briefly of the horses they would be riding, wondering what sort of breeds the Tsar kept in his stables. Suddenly she felt strong lips on hers and panic seized her. It was a hot, invasive thing that she hadn’t seen coming. Immediately she gripped the shirt of the attacker. Then she stopped and came to the realization that she wanted it. Her eyes closed and she submitted to the kiss. Something about the whole situation was alluring, she felt her cheeks flush.

Leaning into the kiss, she wrapped her arms around the Tsar. They had only just met, but that only amplified the cauldron of feelings that were boiling in her. She felt simultaneously hot and drunk, though she had not had any alcohol. After what seemed like a long moment she broke from the kiss, pulling back to look into the eyes of Alexander. She was a Countess! She felt outraged and at the same time, still submitting to what had happened. Her station, all her etiquette and tutoring screamed at her to slap him, berate him and leave. What a scandal, the Tsar kissing a member of the French Nobility without her consent! She thought about it, then leaned suddenly in and kissed him for a second time.

Whatever faux pas had been committed, she was OK with it. If any of her other suitors had done something like that, there would have been hell to pay but she was in bliss for a moment. Her heart raced and she broke the kiss for the second time, looking at Alexander expectantly, though unsure as to what she wanted.

Alexander felt a surge of emotions the first time but then a flicker of fear when she pulled away before that was suddenly replaced by a wave of emotions as she returned for a second time.

Looking into her eyes, Alexander held her close before giving another kiss and saying with a big smile “I think we might’ve just broke every convention and rule about royal’s dating.” Continuing to look into her eyes he felt a passion burning inside him telling him this was the one.

Ariane laughed, her cheeks still burning hot and her eyes suddenly focused on the man before her. If they were caught, the scandal would anything but fun. Something about what had happened was funny though, the tension probably. The Tsar had kissed her! They weren’t even married! Her father would beat her, or hug her. It depended on how he felt at the time, but she wouldn’t let him know about this particular act.

“I don’t know what to say, i’ve never kissed a man before.” She was being honest, she had been saving such a kiss for her husband. She had relented so easily that she felt as though she were betraying something, her family maybe? But it felt so good that the guilt was washed out. “I…” she felt her eyes drop to the ground as she thought about what had happened. Had she wanted it? She thought that she did, but what if Alexander wasn’t interested in marrying her? She felt a wave of fear and anxiety but kept it contained. As her eyes returned to the man she froze. His expression was complex and she felt much like a deer in headlights. She wondered if she should kiss him again. What was he thinking? Questions raced through her mind. She steadied herself by gripping his shirt.

Alexander felt a million thoughts race through his mind before one settled there. Looking into her eyes, he felt a big smile form on his face as he knew.

Giving her another quick kiss he said “Ariane we just met and this might seem crazy and probably breaks a thousand rules about Royal dating but honestly I don’t care. Ariane…. Ariane I think…. No, Ariane, I know I love you. I know it’s sudden and so quick but I just know. I probably sound like a madman don’t I.”

Ariane smiled nervously, unsure of how to feel. The speed at which everything was happening was dizzying. They had just met properly only half an hour ago, possibly even in less time than that. What did she even want? Could she marry a man so soon? Her mother had been courted by her father for six months, and they had countless dates before she even felt attracted to him. Somehow she felt this situation was different however. Her father would be elated that she would be getting married to the Tsar, surely he thought it was unlikely that Alexander would become a suitor of hers.

She nodded and allowed her smile to remain. “Your crazy, but i...i feel the same about you.” She gulped quietly, how would she explain this to her family? The Country? What would be reported by the press? How did Alexander know he loved her when they had only just met? Despite every question that raced through her head, she came to a single question. “Alexander...i can’t do this unless i know that…” she trailed, hoping that he understood that she was referring to marriage. Naturally she needed an indication that this would lead to a union. She couldn’t imagine the guilt if she went through with kissing him and being turned away. She wasn’t a prostitute.

Alexander smiled and nodded understandingly saying “I know and neither could I.” Thinking for a moment he dropped to one knee saying “Ariane Bonaparte, I do not have a ring on me at this moment and I have yet to ask your father as tradition goes but…. will you….. would you marry me and make me the happiest man on this planet? I swear to you as Emperor of all Russias that my feelings for you are true or may God almighty strike me down and turn this Empire into dust.”

Looking Into her eyes he eagerly waited for her response while he also planned out the fastest way to contact her father.

Ariane couldn’t blush harder than after Alexander's proposal. The tradition of asking for her father’s hand was important, though she felt that he would understand given who was making the proposition. Her father would enjoy the perks of being the father in law of the Tsar of Russia, in itself the honor would be immense. He would understand, she felt. She looked at the kneeling man, wondering exactly how she had gotten to this point. So much so quickly, she was still basing her actions of her emotions, which was unlike her.

She felt a tear well up in her eye. She couldn’t start crying, how embarrassing that would be. She reached down towards Alexander, speaking as she did so. “You will have to ask my father but...yes. I will marry you. Alexander, Tsar of Russia…” She felt a tear roll down her cheek. So, she had begun to cry. Joy? She thought that it must be joy, she didn’t feel sad, perhaps a speck anxious still but with the promise of marriage made, everything would be legitimate and good. She quietly pushed a strand of her hair back into place, smiling and feeling very strange. The whole meeting, it hadn’t even been regarding a potential match between the two. At least that’s what father had told her before leaving. She looked off towards the wall of the palace. “What now…” she wondered aloud, obviously still recovering.

Alexander couldn’t help but smile as he stood back up and studied his now soon to be wife’s face before gently wiping away her tears and saying “I will talk with your father and gain his permission. Then the public is notified, a bunch of governmental stuff happens since our wedding will be a public holiday, planning etc.” Pausing for a moment he kissed her again before saying “For now, it’s just you and I. Now I was going to surprise you later but I feel like I should just tell you now. When I was on my phone it was for you. Your Arabian horse story gave me an idea so as we speak I have people searching all over for the best Arabian horse. So when they find it I was wondering if you still wanted to go on that ride? And in the meantime we could go inside and I could call your father. How does that sound?”

Ariane felt better as he wiped away her tears, though that did little to stop them. Luckily she wasn’t wearing makeup, mainly because of the haste her father had sent her to Russia in. She never did understand that man. She felt warmth radiating off of her soon to be husband, looking at him tenderly as he kissed her. The passion was overpowering and she leaned into it blissfully. She listened as he explained to her what would happen. The engagement of the Tsar and the Countess of Normandy would cause a stir, not just in Europe but perhaps throughout all the monarchies in the West. Hopefully there wouldn’t be backlash. They had indeed broken every single conventional rule in dating between Royals. Typically there would be some form of press coverage regarding dates between potential pairings, the whole situation would come as a shock.

“You..that’s what you were doing?” She was surprised by how sweet the Tsar was. None of her suitors had ever done anything like that for her. The best attempt had been done by the Duke of Savoy, when he had rented a private yacht but even that was done preemptively. Alexander was charming, she realized that he could easily have almost any woman he wanted, probably. She felt both privileged and honored. Having been kissed multiple times by him, she wanted to return the favor. She leaned in and kissed him with a fiery purpose, pushing her body against him lightly. “You’re charming, Alexander. Thank you, no one has ever done something like this for me.” She felt joy rise up from inside her. She felt comfortable suddenly, and that itself was blissful.

Alexander smiled at her kiss. Thinking about what was next he said “I love you.” Not knowing what else to say he held her close for a few moments before saying “Shall we call your father and make this official?”

As he said that he retrieved his phone from his pocket saying “I’m sure I have his number. If not we can go inside and do it.”

Ariene nodded, wondering further what her mother would think of everything. Her father would be overjoyed but her mother didn’t have the same calculating thought processes as her father. She would probably be concerned, she would try to make sure that Ariana actually wanted to go through with it. Then she would accept that she did and would be supportive. That is, if she thought Alexander was worth it. Her mother gave her too much credit, she was lucky that the night was going the way it was.

“We should call my father. He’s usually in his study at this time, we won’t be disturbing him.”

Alexander nodded and gave her one last kiss before pulling out his phone and finding the number. Calling it he felt a wave of anxiety and nausea hit him. What if this went wrong and he said no? Part of Alexander said he didn’t care and would marry Ariane regardless even if he had to defend himself publicly for it.

Pushing those thoughts from his mind he sat and waited for the father to answer.

The phone rang once, twice and a third time before the call went through. The voice that made its way through the phone was gruff and particularly angry. Ariana wondered if her father had been fighting with her mother again. She doubted he knew who was calling, it would have probably been registered as a unknown number on her father’s old phone. The last thing she wanted was for her father to embarrass her. Then again, even embarrassment would be alright if it meant that he still accepted the marriage.

“Yes? Who's there? What do you want at this hour?”

Alexander cleared his throat before saying “This is Alexander Romanov. Tsar of all Russias. I hope I’m not interrupting anything sir. However something important has come up. I…. I wish to marry your daughter Ariane. I seek your permission and blessing to do so sir.”

Alexander looked nervously at Ariane. This wasn’t something one practiced or did often, hopefully, so he had hoped he had done well. The look he gave Ariane was clearly one of nervousness as he waited an answer.

She wished that she could look confident but her father was someone she didn’t feel she was strong enough to stand up to. It was a childish weakness probably, but her father was someone who tended to command respect out of Dukes, though he had never talked out of line with a Tsar. She wondered how he would react if things didn’t go well and her and Alexander were forced to marry without his permission. It would be a scandal, especially in France. Still, she was in Russia and her family couldn’t stop them from eloping, short of a war.

“Hmm.” She heard the voice over the phone go quiet. She knew he was thinking, probably stroking his beard like he did. “You wish to marry Ariane? She has a strong will like her mother, i don’t know if i can force her to it. I trust that you haven’t proposed yet, as is customary. Where is my daughter? I would like to speak with her.”

Alexander flashed Ariane a mischievous and cheeky smile as her father mentioned proposal. Collecting himself he said “Of course not sir. And she is in the next room. I’ll bring you to her.” Covering the phone he waited what felt an appropriate time before handing her the phone.

Ariane quickly grasped the phone, nearly dropping it in her mirth. She shared Alexander’s smile as her father brought up the proposal. It was funny but if she laughed it would have blown the ruse. She took the phone and lifted it to speak. “Hello?”

“Ariane, dear is that you?”

“Yes father, what is it?” She smiled anxiously at Alexander.

“Alexander has asked me for permission to take your hand in marriage. I told him i couldn’t force you into it. The last thing i need is for you to throw the poor man into a pile of mud like the did with the count of Caen. Are you interested in him or is this a waste of my time?” Naturally he didn’t understand that he was on speaker and that Alexander could hear everything that was said. She had to hold back laughter as she remember the Count of Caen, who looked more like a horse than a man. She remembered that day fondly. “He’s charming father. Did you know that he’s bringing an Arabian horse to the stables just for me?” She expressed some happiness in her voice, which was genuine. “Well, i’ll let your mother know then. Put the Tsar back on the phone, and please hurry.”

Taking the phone, Alexander smiled and gave Ariane a wink before saying “Hello, this is Alexander.”

“I don’t know how you did it, but she is interested in you. You have my permission to ask for her hand. I would advise that you hurry though.” Perhaps her father did care for her, she thought as she watched her father and Alexander speak.

Alexander held back excitement as he said “Thank you sir. Will do. Take care.”

Hanging up, Alexander put his phone away before grabbing Ariane and kissing her as he lifted her up and held her bridal style saying “Stay right here.” Setting her down he rushed off and returned minutes later holding something.

Getting on one knee again he said “Let’s do this right.” Pulling out a golden ring with several diamonds and one large one, Alexander said “This ring belonged to my great great great however many great grandmother, Catherine. With it I ask for your hand in marriage. Will you, Adriane Bonaparte marry me?”

“Yes, Yes!” She said enthusiastically, not even trying to hold in the joy bursting from inside of her. All the kissing, today was the first time she had ever even been so personal with a man, and she was accepting a proposal. She would accept the ring, and before long she would be married to the dashing young man before her. The thought filled her with a new sensation, pride. She looked down at the ring offered by Alexander, surprised that it was not just a beautiful piece of jewelry, but had one belonged to a great queen of Russia. Such a proposal was beyond special. Doubtlessly she would be expected to tell this story to the press, she would have to leave out Alexander's first proposal, lest her father retract his acceptance.

She felt a incredible urge to hug Alexander, a overwhelming feeling that she somehow suppressed.

Sliding the ring onto her hand, Alexander stood and kissed her for several moments before breaking and saying “I love you so much. Are you ready for this? You are the future Empress of Russia. There will be a lot of press and I can only protect you from them so much.”

Ariane knew that there was only one correct answer after all that had happened. She couldn’t suddenly back out after he had spoken with her father and offered her a ring and marriage. Well, perhaps she still could but she was infatuated with her future partner. She could only nod and agree, the press would be a necessary evil to contend with after tonight. She had dealt with only small numbers of them before, and once on a occasion where she joined the rest of the Royal Family in Versailles during a local football tournament. She would have to touch up her Russian though, while she could speak it fluently, she knew that it would be best that she get rid of any french accentuations when she spoke, so as to better identify with the people of Russia, particularly the Nobility. She looked towards Alexander with incredible happiness. Surely there would be issues in the future, especially since they didn’t know each other that well. She would have to take them as they came. “I’m ready for that responsibility. We should head inside, its getting cold and i need to compose myself.” She felt slightly subconscious as to her happy, tear-stained cheeks.

Alexander smiled and gave her one more kiss before saying “You look so beautiful right now.” Then he picked her up bridal style and let out laughter as he carried her inside before setting her down and saying “Will you stay here or return to France?”

She thought about it for a moment then quickly came to a decision. “I’m going to stay here. My family will probably book a flight out as soon as the news breaks. I should be here when it does, with you.” They were inside and the Palace would still have people meandering about. Carelessly she stepped forwards and laid her head against her fiance’s chest. “I’m going to stay here with you” she said conclusively.

Smiling Alexander said “I won’t let them fly commercial. A plane will be sent first thing and bring them here.” Pausing for a moment he stroked her hair as he said “And I’ll be here with you.” Giving her a kiss on top of her head he smiled as he thought about the future.

by **The Manticoran Empire** » Mon Dec 31, 2018 8:00 pm

Washington
United Kingdom of America

Catherine Alexander Hamilton lay on her bed, barely noticing the rustle of sheets and creak of springs as her husband rose. Her mind was awash with thoughts and fears, thoughts and fears that she shouldn't have had. After all, it was merely the Inspection of the Guard, an annual event that she had participated in for the last decade. One would think that she would have grown past her girlish fears of tripping up during the event. Misspeaking, tripping over her own feet, falling off of her horse, or some other clumsy and embarrassing event that would be broadcast to the entire country live on every news network as well as livestreamed on social media networks.
She groaned aloud as she thought about the possibility of the entire world watching as she embarrassed herself, her Family, and the Kingdom, a groan that her husband heard and reacted to. "Cathi, if this worries you so much that you can't bring yourself to get up this morning, perhaps I should do it in your stead?" Catherine rolled over to face him, her gaze resting on the tall, handsome form of William, her husband of eight years and father of her three children, including the Heir Apparent, Margaret. "If you perform the role of the Queen, it will imply to the entire world that something is wrong with me and I don't want to have to deal with the conspiracy theories about Lizard People or the endless barrage of questions about my health." William smiled and said, "Well then, get up. Take a bath, get dressed, have some tea. The event isn't scheduled to start for several more hours so take that time to relax. Gather your thoughts. And don't focus on what can go wrong. Focus more on what can go right." William wrapped himself in a robe and walked to the door. "While you are getting yourself ready, I'll be in the study with a cup of coffee and the children."
As he left, Catherine rolled onto her back again, staring up at the ceiling for several minutes after he had gone. Finally, she sat up, pulling her knees to her chest and grasping them with her hands. The sheets fell from her shoulders and she shuddered as the cool, climate controlled air, stirred up by the ceiling fan, wafted across her skin. She swung her legs over the bed, her feet landing softly onto the cashmere carpet, her toes curling to bring the soft, soothing fibers around her feet as much as possible. She shook her head, running her hands through her long, blonde hair before rising and walking to the bathroom.

by **Achidyemay** » Fri Jan 04, 2019 10:42 am

Today is the day that the nations mourning was scheduled to end. It's a weird thing, a bureaucratic thing, scheduling the end of mourning like that. The thirteen days had been observed, then the month had gone through, then it was two months, the nation continuing on autopilot, holding its breath. Sri Rama Varma Gandhi Ji Wadiyar III knew it didn't inspire confidence that he still had not returned to the royal palace in Bangalore, he knew that he had a duty to his people, he knew that he had done his diligence and had been blessed by the priests and now it was time for him to continue the legacy of his father. He knew these things, he repeated these truths like a mantra to himself as he stared at the ceiling above his bed. He was in his childhood room, although it had been renovated countless times over the years to suit his needs, he couldn't bring himself to inhabit his father's room, though the medical equipment had long been moved away. The truths, and his advisers, had been increasing in urgency as time ticked on, so His Exalted Highness had fallen back on a tactic that had served him well in Grad School: Blind obedience to a pre-written schedule. Today had been set as the day. Today would be the day. And it had started off rather rough, with the Maharaja waking long before dawn, incapable of sleeping, with a knot that pulsed and grew in his stomach. He was awake when the drapes automatically drew themselves, when the sound of the tub from the bathroom kicked on, when the characteristic chimes tolled through the room from speakers within the wall. He didn't want today to be the day, but he pushed all thoughts from his mind, letting his feet swing down onto the heated floors. He found that if he focused on accomplishing simple, immediate tasks, his mind wouldn't wander too far from where he needed it. He moved his body in a wide stretching motion, and then made his way to the bathroom.

Freshly washed and smelling of sandalwood, Sri Rama re-entered his room and was surprised to find his clothes laid out on the bed for him. He recognized the stylish suit with deep floral inlay as a gift from his cousin, a renowned designer. His mind shot back to when they were really young, listening to a troop of macaques in the trees. Putting it on, he was relieved at the incredible fit, it was a good suit. He admired the craftsmanship in the mirror as a knock rapped across the door. Sri Rama opened the door to reveal a young woman in a pressed, ruddy-tan uniform. Her cuffs and epaulets revealed her to be part of the head staff, but Sri Rama didn't recognize her. She spoke succinctly, informing him that his mother has invited him to breakfast on the west veranda.
"Thank you, what is your name? I'm afraid I don't recognize you."
"Harshada Gupta, I was promoted to the head of this wing before your father's passing."
It was tradition for the staff to leave the family castle during times of mourning, her presence meant something, but Sri Rama didn't acknowledge it.

He found his mom quickly and joined her at the table, they had had a lot of meals together lately, but there was seldom much talking. He knew before sitting down that everything at the table was sourced from the palace gardens and farms, his mother had been championing self-sufficiency, particularly among the elites, for some time now and gardens were back in fashion.
"You're heading back to Bangalore today?" She asked.
He nodded over a glass of orange juice, "the train leaves at 10."
"You're grandfather will be happy to see you."
"I'm sure he will."
"He never was much for politics, he stresses about such tiny details, everything is fine, I would tell him, no one could challenge you, but did he listen to me, no! The nation was so much better when your father took over." There was a beat where she realized what she had said. Mentioning Sri Rama II was like cursing these days.
"Anyways," she continued, "It'll be good for the nation that we can move on." She didn't sound particularly convinced by her words. Sri Rama III stared at his rava dosa.

The bullet train from Mysore to Bangalore had been a gift from Japan and had secured for their companies the bid to expand the bullet train network throughout Southern India. It wouldn't have left before the King of South India's arrival, but Sri Rama III arrived just a bit early. The royal cabin was resplendent in ornamentation and amenities. Upon arrival, he was greeted by attendants whom he immediately dismissed. With the car to himself, he pulled a Barqs from the fridge, took a sip, then laid down on the floor (a habit he had picked up at Cambridge).

The Bangalore Palace had never seen better days, with it's newest addition still only two years old and all of the surrounding gardens well established. His father had insisted on something more modern, the dark black mirror of glass that was the new addition had blended surprisingly well with the rest of the architecture: the classic Tudor revival base and the previous Indo-saracenic additions. The wing was jokingly called the Wing of Mirrors and seeing it sent a smile across Sri Rama III's face and a pang through his heart as the black car pulled up the road. His grandfather was waiting on the steps with a handful of other top officials and some roped off reporters. Sri Rama III stepped out of the car and gave them a wave and a confident smile, then took his place at his grandfather's side, whispering a greeting and giving him a conspiratorial pat on the back as they led the procession back inside. The throne room was the largest room in the castle by far, and it grew taller with every addition, with light filtering from the heavens through now distant stained glass. Large marble columns reached like trees overhead and the whole room echoed with the sounds of people walking. It was annoying. Sri Rama lead his grandson to his office on the second floor.
"How have you been? You look well." Sri Rama III said.
"Fine, fine, leading a country has never been so easy." Sri Rama laughed, but it rang hollow like a cough. It was hard for Sri Rama III to conceptualize how his grandfather could continue to do what he had hated and step in after the loss of his son. Sri Rama seemed to read this on his grandson's face, "Though sometimes I wish it were busier, it's easier to get lost in the work then. Speaking of-" He gestured to the papers across his desk. "These are some of the recent reports, you'll find your own copies on your desk, and I'd like to encourage you to set up a meeting with the kings of Ceylon and Japan soon."
The elder filled in the younger on various other details before he retired to his office down the hall. It was his father's office, but he was actually relieved to notice that it was not his father's desk. The interior had been mostly replaced, the spartan, glass and metal office had been replaced with a warmer wood and iron aesthetic. Mementos from his life had also been set up and he idly wondered who had been in charge of the interior design. He walked behind the desk and looked through the drawers, almost immediately finding a laptop. There was a computer on the desk but Sri Rama III had sort of decided to do things his way for a moment, urged on by the warm interior. It hummed to life and responded positively to his system password, so he crossed the room to a couch by the window, kicked of his shoes and sat himself sideways on the couch. Then he did what every royal is ought to do, he checked the news.

by **Chewion** » Fri Jan 18, 2019 10:23 pm

Saint Petersburg, Russian Empire

The day of the Wedding between Alexander Romanov and Ariane Bonaparte had come. A week of celebrations and parades had preceded it, now those important heads of state, local Russian Nobility and other important figures were arriving in the Capital for the ceremony. Invitations were hard to come by, it would already be packed as one of the more controversial and simultaneously popular matches in recent history. The story of love at first sight had permeated and been reported on by newspapers and magazines as far away as China and Mexico. It was an alluring story.

The Bonaparte family had flown out despite a busy domestic schedule. Napoleon VII, The Crown Prince Napoleon, the son of the Crown Prince, Prince Lionel and Alexandre and even Louise, who rarely attended events like weddings. In addition to the Royal Family, Ariane’s father Roland, her mother Sauvanne and her little brother Julien were also in attendance. The group had gathered in one of the local Hotels which had been rented out by the French Royal Family in order to give them some privacy before the wedding.

Despite Napoleon VII’s original distaste for the marriage of his niece to the Tsar, he had warmed to the idea. He was wearing an expensive Ermengildo Zegna Besoke suit, which had cost upwards of 16,000 Francs. He was beaming as he directed the family around, ensuring that everyone had their ties tied and their best clothes on. Alongside his directing were an army of tailors and makeup artists, intent on making sure the Royal Family looked incredible for the Wedding.

Napoleon VII had some of had some of his elderly wrinkles smoothed or brushed away to give him an appearance of youth. He had his nails clipped and his hair done while being fitted for new shoes. He was used to this sort of busy life. Perhaps these sorts of preparations could have been done in France if not for the haste at which they had been forced to leave. Still the whole process was flowing smoothly.

Crown Prince Napoleon enjoyed the spectacle. He thought back to the wedding in Brazil, at least Russia wasn’t burning hot, at least not for the moment. He happened to love the country, it’s obedient servants and cool weather. Naturally they weren’t close to being as civilized and cultured as France but that was of no consequence. They were among the better nations to exist. Really, Roseline should have married into a Royal Family like the Romanovs. They were a well bred family, plenty of Slavic and Germanic blood in its family tree. He looked down at his son, also named Napoleon. He didn’t mind the child visiting Russia. He recalled that his son spoke Russian unlike himself. God, that child was frighteningly brilliant. He certainly lived up to his namesake, the Crown Prince felt anxious to see what the boy would one day become. At the moment the boy was chattering away with a young Russian Clerk, learning everything he possibly could while he still had the chance.

Lionel and Alexandre, as they had in Brazil, looked entirely opposite in everything but outward appearance. Much like in Brazil, Alexandre was eager to party in a new place. Well, relatively new. He knew of a few interesting clubs in the City that he would probably visit before their trip ended. If he had to come to an event like this, he should at least make the most of it, yes? Lionel, on the other hand, looked incredibly bored. He didn’t care for his cousin or Russia. The scheming rat that he was, he was certainly cooking up a plot or two for some fun. Hopefully, nothing that would embarrass the Royal Family, there would be plenty of cameras to capture the Wedding.

Roseline was not in attendance, unfortunately. There were no commercial flights available out of Brazil to Russia and she was still preparing for after wedding celebrations for her own wedding to Pedro I. It had broken her heart that she wouldn’t be able to make it. She had asked Lionel if he would take photos for her, but that was much the same as asking a horse to buy you coffee. Lionel had probably already forgotten about the request. Louise was in attendance but it didn’t seem like his brain had arrived with his body. Whereas the rest of the Royal Family were racing around to prepare, he sat on one of the sofas, cleanly and perfectly dressed for the occasion, clattering away on a laptop and making last minute phone calls.

The final and most important Bonaparte preparing for the day was Ariane. She was not with her family but instead inside the old Nicholas Palace. She, along with a number of bridesmaids was quickly applying small amounts of makeup, making sure that her Wedding Gown was essentially perfect and preparing the girl for an important milestone in her life. The brown-haired beauty had recovered entirely from her concussion a month prior, the small injury has completely healed. Her illness at the moment was due to nervousness.

Her dress was something out of a fairytale. Long and flowing but with an exposed back, revealing her soft, arguably perfect skin. There had been a small debate between the bridesmaids a week prior over a traditional design, based off of the dress worn by her ancestor Marie Louise, something of a more Russian design or a something entirely original. The result was a combined effort between French and Russian tailors to create a gown which incorporated both French and Russian designs, while still being somewhat contemporary.

As she twirled in front of the mirror, she realized just how beautiful she looked. It made her happy enough to cry but her friend Mégane Beauvilliers was quick with a tissue and her makeup was spared the soft death of tears. “It’s alright dear, it’s your special day! Don’t cry!” Mégane had always been a sweet girl at heart, she was one of Ariane’s closest friends. It was almost 11:30, as she was constantly reminded by the girls. She would have to leave so that she could be at the Winter Palace before Tsar Alexander. She hadn’t been able to see him before the Wedding, having come to the Nicholas Palace the day before. No doubt her family would still be arriving at the Winter Palace themselves. “Alright! Let's get going, it’s time!”

Ariane understood that traditionally she would have been taken to the Winter Palace by her mother in law. For obvious reasons that weren’t able to happen, so she would go along with a drive and her bridesmaids. She felt butterflies well up inside her as she wondered what Alexander was doing at that moment. She stepped into the car outside and the group began to make their way through the streets with the adoration of a large crowd following them.

Alexander stood inside his room at the Anichkov Palace. His younger brother, Michael, was nearby while his sisters, Anastasia, Sophia, and Alexandra, his twin who was technically older by 2 minutes and never failed to announce that fact, were waiting at the Winter Palace.

Romanov offshoots from all over the world had returned for the wedding. People Alexander had never even met or had done so a long time ago. All of them wearing their best and displaying the family crest.

Outside in the streets, there were thousands of commoners who lined every available street and corner to try and catch a glimpse of the royal couple. Alongside them stood hundreds of soldiers all in ceremonial outfits ready for the wedding.

Back inside the Anichkov Palace, Alexander looked at the official Tsar Military Tux. Complete with a sash and medals. Next to him stood his brother, dressed in a standard tuxedo, followed by several of his close friends dressed identically to the prince.

Standing there Alexander couldn’t help but let his mind wander to Ariane. How beautiful she must look at this moment. He could picture her, standing in all of her angelic beauty. Coming back to the present he made his way outside and into the Tsar Limo awaiting him.

As the guests and the bride and groom arrived at the Winter Palace, canons from the Peter and Paul Fortress were preparing to announce the beginning of the ceremony. The ceremony would begin at precisely 12:10, much like the wedding between Tsar Nicholas II and Alexandra Feodorovna in 1894. By the time the Tsar had arrived, Ariane and her Bridesmaids had stopped for a moment to speak with the rest of the Bonaparte family, who had also arrived. Members of the Romanov and Bonaparte family, the former outnumbering the latter, were intermingling and speaking with one another.

Tsar Alexander felt nerves in his stomach as the limo pulled up to the Palace. Taking a deep breath he exited the limo to the applause of the crowd and the firing of the canons as he made his way to the doors.

Just as the Tsar exited the Limo and made his way towards the doors, the clock struck 12:10 and the ceremony officially commenced. The procession began with Countess Ariane Bonaparte and the sister of the Tsar, Anastasia, Whereas Ariane was made to look more attractive, Anastasia appeared to be dignified. The two girls had gotten along well since they had first met, there as banter to be had regarding Alexander. Anastasia was a stand-in though, as Ariane should have been accompanied by Alexander’s mother, who was deceased. The pair were silent and were followed by the Tsar and behind him, the rest of the procession. Despite her nervousness, Ariane snuck a peek at Alexander, causing Anastasia to make a sound somewhat like a cough as though to remind her of the importance of not looking upon her soon to be husband until they were at the dais.

Behind Alexander came the rest of the congregation. Bonapartes, Romanovs, and members of the Russian and French nobility made up the largest portion, with a few scattered Monarchs from other countries with close relations to Russia or France. The service was to be presided over by the Archpriest of the Palace Clergy. Following tradition, the groom would mount the dais first, then Ariane would mount her dais.

Alexander took a deep breath as he made his way onto the dais. Doing his best to hide his nerves. Looking at his very soon bride to be he couldn't help but feel excited. Smiling at her he couldn't help but think of their honeymoon. Stepping onto the dais he waited.

As Alexander mounted the dais, Ariane did the same after being led to them by Anastasia. From somewhere near the back of the Church, a boy handed a tray of rings to a priest, who brought them to the Dais. The presiding priest needed to bless the couple before the ceremony could proceed. The priest stepped forward and began to bless the Tsar and then the Countess, and then the ceremony. When he was finished, he announced to the congregation “We honor the betrothal of Tsar Alexander IV and Countess Ariane of Normandy.”

The priest took the rings and handed one to Alexander and the other to Ariane. Tradition called for them to exchange them three times, after which they would say their formal wedding vows. While this exchange happened, the Tsars three best men would hold the nuptial crowns above their heads.

Alexander smiled as he took the ring. He looked at Ariane with a smile. She was the most beautiful person he had ever seen standing there in her bridal gown. Taking the ring he handed it over to her for the first time.

Ariane listened as the priest blessed them. She could finally look at Alexander, he was wearing a military tuxedo with a sash. He looks nice, she thought to herself. The priest took the rings and one went to Alexander, the other to her. She accepted the ring, looking down at it and then at Alexander. They were expected to exchange the rings wordlessly but she quickly found his eyes. They were as expressive as ever. Silently she offered him the ring that she had been given.

The pair exchanged their rings twice more. As they held onto the rings that would be their wedding rings, the vows were to be said next. The priest stepped forwards, looking at Alexander. The Room had fallen silent for the most part, all eyes were focused on the Tsar. What he said next would be written down and likely quoted by hundreds of media outlets. “Would you like to begin your vows?”

Alexander cleared his throat before saying “Ariane, when we met for a second time I knew you were the one. I promise to love and cherish you. I promise to defend you and your honor. I promise to be your loyal partner in parenthood. I promise to stand by you through the rest of our lives whatever may come.”

Ariane listened as Alexander said his vows. She had practiced her own for two weeks, but suddenly she felt unsure about them. “When we first met, I hardly gave you any attention. When I came to St. Petersburg last month I never thought I would find love, and then I met you. I promise to always care for and honor you as my husband. I will never love another man as I love you until the day I die.”

Ariane smiled, with vows said the Wedding would be nearly over. She had been confused when her cousin had told how short they tended to be, Russian Royal Weddings anyways. She was glad as she looked over at the Tsar.

The Priest stepped forwards and spoke to the whole congregation. “I now pronounce Tsar Alexander IV and Ariane of Normandy to be Man and Wife.” Ariane had been disappointed when she had been told that they didn’t kiss during a Russian wedding, but there would be time for that later.

They were expected to walk around the lectern, the stand where the priest read from. After that, they would kiss a gold cross and they would pray. She stood and along with Alexander, followed the priest to the other end of the lectern. The Cross was first offered to the Tsar, it would be offered to her second. After Alexander and she had kissed the Cross, the Ceremony was over. In the distance, Ariane could hear the sound of cannons and gunfire, symbolizing the marriage of the Tsar and Ariane, the new Empress of Russia.

What followed was entirely informal as the guests made their way to the couple to offer their congratulations and wish them luck with their lives together. Ariana looked towards Alexander, suddenly overcome with the urge to kiss him. Leaning over and without thinking about it, she pulled him into a passionate kiss, causing someone near the back to whistle.

Alexander held the kiss for a second before breaking it and holding her close giving a wave to the crowd before heading off together.

by **Clarcia** » Tue Jan 22, 2019 4:15 pm

Denver, Duchy of Colorado

Denver University Grand Library.

Duke Jonathan Hickenlooper stood in front of a table of the many dukes/duchesses and lords/ladies representing the states North of Texas proper. From the Magistrate of Cascadia to the Baron of Tulsa, these vassals were dissatisfied with their emperor, who sought to tighten his power like his father and grandfather before him. The Empire has been in decline for years. The electorate of lords had been angry since the original revolt of Hickenlooper’s grandfather. Now, they stood waiting for the moment to strike.

“My fellow lords and ladies,” Hickenlooper began, “we stand at the edge. This grand council has been amassed each year for the last 100 years. Our forefathers have fought and schemed to preserve the unity and the protection of our great people through our electorate and parliament. However, our Emperor Zachery Hannover has installed Ultra-Nationalists in all of our great parliaments without our permission. He has broadened his secret police’s range to all of Texas, violations his vassals there. If we do not act fast, he will wipe us alll out and harm our people. That is why I have called you all here in secret. It is time to bring back representation. Equality must come back. For too long have the Hannovers corrupted our Empire! I say it’s time to change things! I say it’s high time we do what we did all those years ago when we had had enough before! This winter is a cold one, snow everywhere, even down in houston! It’s time to show them the meaning of our great people! It’s time we take it all back! For the Mohntains remember, and they shall have justice!”

“THE KING IN THE MOUNTAINS”

The lords’ and ladies’ hopefull cries echoed through the old building as a young man ran to the group. In a panic, he practically slammed into the large table they all sat at.

“My lords and ladies!” Prime Minister of the Colorado Parliament Hancock exclaimed, “there was a massive North American unity demonstration in Houstaon. 10,000 people participated!”

“And?” Lord Hickenlooper asked.

“The Imperial guard, ordered by the emperor, slaughtered them. Thousands are dead or dying. What’s worse is that Emperor Hannover has called for a mobilization of all vassals’ soldiers. He wants them all in the capital for federalizations. We believe he plans on wiping us out once and for all.”

“Then it is time,” Hickenlooper replies as he turned to the men and women looking at him in almost shock. The Wmperor has never been this ambitious,”lords and ladies, it seems we must act now. Order your generals to march on the capital. Operation Eagle’s return is a go. We all know that if we wish to unite the North American monarchies, now is the time. I will send a letter to the Queen of the UKA. Hopefully, we can bring justice back to our realm. Now, we can only wait. FOR THE MOUNTAINS!”

”FOR THE MOUNTAINS!”

Dispatch to Queen Catherine

Your majesty,

My name is Duke John Hickenlooper of the Duchy of Colorado. It may come as a surprise, but soon, there will be a coup in the Empire of Texas. Do not be alarmed. The nobility of his land is currently trying to take back our rights and reverse this downward spiral created by the corrupt Hannover dynasty. While our dreams of a United American Empire may seem notice, we do not wish to forge such a thing with war. Only peace will bring this great continent together. It is only a lofty goal that would take decades to achieve. We wish to tell you that we pose not great and that if you could support our fledgling movement by keeping foreign powers at bay, we would be forever in your debt.

Kindest Regarda,
Duke Jonathan Hickenlooper

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