Empire of the Midnight Sun [Aureumterra Maintenance Thread]

[Aureumterra III]

Empire of the Midnight Sun

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OOC: This is a lore maintenance thread for character posts and worldbuilding Aureumterra that doesn’t fit into active RPs. Most of what will be posted here will be connected to an RP in some way, but not directly part of its timeline, but rather serving as background or general worldbuilding-oriented stories. Most of what will be posted here is intended for the Bellverse RP Canon, though it likely still applies to any other canons I participate in with this nation.

With that being said, this thread is CLOSED, no one other than myself is to post here unless I give express permission to do so. However, if you’re interested, feel free to read the stories and follow along.

[Aureumterra III]

Överhallen Estate
A long time ago…

“I found another one!”

A voice of a young girl could be heard coming from a long winding stone path, lined with trees, looking down towards the chateau in the distance. It was a warm summer day, the beautiful rolling landscape of the estate given a backdrop of clear blue skies.

“Hold on, I’m coming!”

Another voice called out, this one of a young boy, as he could be seen quickly walking towards the other. He looked no older than 12, with an average stature and light brown hair in somewhat of a disarray. He approached the girl, seeming a couple years younger than himself, who was kneeling down and looking at the base of a tree on the side of the path, her flowing caramel-colored hair tied into a neat braid. The boy approached and came down as well, to take a closer look at the shiny diamond.

"How many is that now?" The girl asked, quickly picking it up.

"I think… that should be all? Put it back together." He remarked, picking himself back up.

She dusted herself and took out a bracelet, and put the diamond into it, making sure to fasten it tightly. She slid the bracelet right back onto her arm.

"Good lord Christina." He remarked with a slightly playful tone, "How do you even let a bracelet like that just slide off your hand?" He laughed.

Christina gave a short smirk, "It’s not like you’re any better. I wasn’t the one who let a centuries-old sculpture fall and shatter in the middle of the palace."

He rolled his eyes, "That was months ago."

She chuckled mischievously, "Whatever you say." The two dusted themselves off and stepped onto the path, "At least Mom’s not going to yell at me now for losing an old family heirloom."

"She would’ve yelled at me, because you being an idiot is always my fault somehow." He said with a laugh as the two began walking down the path. A pleasant breeze blew over as the green summer trees rustled. "This is so much better than Potens, you’re not suffocating from the humidity or freezing to death all the time" He remarked. "It does feel nice to come here, especially now that Brada is busy with Heinrik."

"Don’t worry Svein, he’ll be fine." Christina piped up. "At least he’s not spending all day reading long books-"

"Hey! At least I do something of value." Svein playfully elbowed her.

"Books. Booooo-ring." She bemoaned.

Svein sighed, "Okay then, madame." He said sarcastically. "Anyways - we should be heading back now, don’t want another bout of your clumsiness to land me in trouble again."

Christina simply smiled and shook her head. The two children walked past a pair of Imperial Guardsmen lining the path, rigid in posture and watchfully standing at their post, bowing as the two went by. They passed a stable, used to keep the Imperial Family’s horses at the estate. Christina beckoned her brother in, "Come on, I haven’t checked on them in a while." She entered the stable, a few stewards quickly prostrating themselves as the two entered. "Your highnesses," one of them spoke in proper style, "What brings your presence here?"

"Oh nothing much sir, just checking on them." Christina said as she approached her favorite one, a stocky brown Lyngshest. She took some feed and softly coaxed the steed to taking from her hand, gently stroking its mane. She turned back to Svein, "You can go back, I know you’re not into this." She smirked.

"Hm? What do you mean?" He raised an eyebrow. "I can ride just as well, you see." He approached a horse and attempted to coax it as well, only to be snorted on and the horse turning away. Christina burst out laughing, "Maybe if you took your head out of all those books and came outside, you’d know how to do this."

Svein shrugged, "What can I say?"

"You’re bad at this." Christina continued laughing. "What a shame to the family."

Svein sighed, "Anyways, Mom wants me to keep an eye on you."

A wide grin grew over the girl’s face, "More like the other way around."

"Oh you shut up already and just do what you need to do. It’s hot out here." Svein said, the boy visibly annoyed. "You have to get to your tutors as well."

"Okay okay" Christina said as she finished feeding her horse. The girl stood up on her toes to reach the top of his head, and pet him before turning back towards her brother. "Ugh, more tutoring. Boring." Svein rolled his eyes again. "At least be thankful it’s not like Brada’s ordeal."

"Now come on. We don’t want to be late again…" He said, heading out to the path. The children continued their way towards the chateau, the two siblings continuing their snide remarks and playful gestures as they approached, laughing.

[Aureumterra III]

Höll Glæsilegt, Potens
Present Day…

"Progress has been made in the Highlands, at least for now." Lieutenant Marshal Olaf Sigurdsson addressed the Emperor, pointing towards a map of Iceland. He moved his finger, displaying the line of control so far in the areas in the center of the island. "We managed to strike a terrorist camp last week, every identified terrorist in this camp has been killed or taken into our custody."

"And I presume, you are interrogating these men for information on the other locations?" Frederik replied, raising an eyebrow.

"Of course, your Imperial Majesty." Sigurdsson assured. "Furthermore, we have secured the valley South from Akureyri, all the way to Modhruvellir. We have made incursions into the Interior, however due to the weather conditions, our options are limited. We strike when the wind is down, but must leave when it begins again, as the Highlands are especially harsh in those terms. The terrorists also have the knowledge of the landscape, and many simply disappear and reappear almost."

"How are we not overrunning all their encampments already? Why is it taking so long to wipe out this band of fishermen and sheep herders?" The Emperor queried, his tone turning somewhat dangerous.

"Well… there are many factors at play. The biggest one is we simply don’t know all of their hiding places, which is why we have been running air scans of the entire area, scouting out any possible hideouts in the landscape they could be using." The military officer’s voice became somewhat timid.

"I expect to see progress soon, is that clear?" Frederik sternly remarked.

Sigurdsson’s eyes monetarily grew wide in fear, he quickly suppressed his emotions and nodded, "Yes, your Imperial Majesty."

Frederik turned his head back to the room, surveying the Imperial Government officials before him, whom anxiously looked on. "I believe that is all for today, you are all dismissed - except Director Aalberg." He finished as the men stood up and left the room, bowing respectfully as per protocol. The I9 director, Josef Aalberg, a middle-aged man with neatly combed dark hair and analyzing eyes remained stoically in place, waiting for the others to leave.

I9 technically fell outside the jurisdiction of the Imperial Government, answering only to the Emperor, and being directed solely by his decree. The agency had long been one of the core arms of maintaining the absolute supremacy of the monarchy in the Empire, not only focusing on international intelligence, but keeping an eye on potential internal threats, and making sure they don’t step out of line. Aalberg had long been a part of the agency, rising through the ranks until he was appointed director by the Emperor, shortly following his ascension to the throne not long ago.

He kept his head low and avoided eye contact, as per protocol, while Frederik inquired, "Do you have any updates on him?"

The director raised his head, "Deepest apologies, your Imperial Majesty, but unfortunately not."

The monarch shook his head, "How are your agents unable to take him out even after so much information has been unearthed? Does he just disappear?"

Aalberg sighed, "I once again apologize, but this will take time. Our infiltrated agents in neighboring countries have been scouring documents and records for any leads, but unfortunately we haven’t tracked down the whereabouts."

"I’m sure you’re aware of how imperative this is, director?" The Emperor remarked sharply.

"Your Imperial Majesty, certainly, it is one of our top priorities."

"Good. That poor excuse of a person can’t scurry away forever." Frederik’s tone turned dark. Aalberg’s eyes widened in surprise at the malice in the Emperor’s tone, but quickly suppressed his thoughts. He nodded.

"You may leave." Frederik said coldly, as the director bowed and quietly walked out of the room.

Left alone, the Emperor read over a few final reports before standing up himself, from the head of the table, and walking out. The door from the meeting room led straight to one of the palace’s magnificent magnificent hallways, lined with massive paintings and murals of historical events in the Empire’s past, alongside legendary biblical stories and others. The roof made of majestic arching ridges, with immense chandeliers hanging down.

His stride was uninterrupted as Imperial Guardsmen quickly opened the door, the Emperor paying no attention as he walked past. He made his way around the palace, retiring to his chambers, as he entered. The Imperial sanctum was quiet and extravagantly opulent, a large, plush, ornamental canopy bed in the middle with a tall window next to it, overlooking the sprawling palace gardens outside. In front of it was a fireplace with the Imperial Coat of Arms displayed above, as well as the Imperial Crown itself.

A small hallway led into another room, a living space with plush velvet couches lined on the sides of the room. Here was the Empress, Ingrid Korsagaard, sitting whilst having her hair done by an attendant. She quickly shooed her away as her husband entered the room, taking a seat on another couch opposite of her, and relaxing himself into it. Ingrid’s expression remained neutral, as she simply nodded at his entrance. They had only recently married, an arranged marriage at the behest of Frederik’s mother, the late Empress Lisette, for the benefit of keeping Ingrid’s aristocratic house in loyal ties with the Monarchy. It had been a largely loveless affair, based on the structure of politics rather than emotion.

"You’re here already?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

"There’s little progress in anything, for now at least." He said, his voice tired from the day’s meetings and briefings. "The officers keep assuring that they will eventually get the situation under control, but they haven’t shown any results. Their incompetence is evident… when I give orders, I expect them to be followed through."

Ingrid’s expression remained stoic, as she looked up, "Perhaps you’re being too harsh? You can’t expect everything to go right in these matters, just have patience…"

Frederik was mildly startled by her comment, a young man who was clearly not used to being retorted at. "What?"

"You’re jumping to conclusions. You’re not being p-"

"Are you questioning my judgement?" The Emperor replied, a hint of anger in his voice. Having been Crown Prince and then Emperor, he was not used to being openly critiqued. "What place are you in to suggest that?"

"I am simply stating my opinion. You don’t need to have such a god complex about everything-"

"I am your Emperor, do not speak out of line to me." Frederik said in a low, angry voice, rising out of his seat.

Ingrid was defiant, "You’re my husband. I’m just helping you, yet you remain stubborn. Perhaps this is why you aren’t living up to your mother’s reign, bless her soul."

Frederik’s expression turned dark, "You did not just say that." He strode towards Ingrid, whose eyes widened in visible shock. His eyes meanwhile, shot daggers at his wife, as she paled in fear. He suddenly stopped, and let out a heavy sigh, sitting himself back down, "What am I doing…" He said weakly.

The Empress’ expression became more docile, as she stood up and approached her husband, still somewhat cautiously, and put her hand on his shoulder, "I shouldn’t have said that. I spoke too far." She comforted in a soft tone.

He shook his head, looking down, clearly startled at himself, "I’m sorry." He put his hand on his head, "We can’t stay like this. I made a pledge to mother, and I will keep it. Maybe you’re right… I shouldn’t be so impatient…"

Ingrid sat down next to him, "Trust your instinct… you have been sanctioned by God himself."

The two held each other’s hands, a rare moment of intimacy for them…

[Aureumterra III]

A long while ago…

Empress Lisette II relaxed against the fine oak wooden back of the bed. Located in the middle of the Imperial Sanctum, the center of Höll Glæsilegt, it was the defining feature of the opulent room. It served as a private retreat for the monarch and her family, away from the scandalous world of court intrigue and geopolitics, a refuge where one could take comfort and forget their worries. She gently stroked the hair of a tall, mature-looking boy, who lay sprawled across the bed to her side, snugly in the sheets. At the moment however, his face was pale and his eyes red.

"The nurse says you have a fever, how bad is it feeling right now?" She asked softly.

He let out a weak remark, "Painful. My throat hurts as well."

"Rest for a while, I will be back in a bit. Call someone if you feel worse." The Empress comforted in a loving, motherly manner. The boy simply nodded. She leaned down and kissed his cheek, and smiled at him before turning around. She had been ruling for almost two and a half decades herself, having pulled the Empire through he fallout of the end of the cold war, as well as facing the renewed threat of numerous insurgencies appearing across the realm. Her iron fisted rule was in line with her predecessors, and in sharp contrast to her demeanor in personal settings. To her loyal subjects on the mainland and the colonies, she was a benevolent ruler, a protectress who cared for her nation like a mother to her children. To her detractors however, she was a ruthless tyrant, the head of an oppressive system which had enserfed millions around the globe.

"Mother," The boy called, weakly raising his head towards the Empress, "Should I see Heinrik today?" He was referring to Heinrik Fjoltsson, commander of the Imperial Guard, and a close confidante of the Imperial family. Lately, he had taken special interest in tutoring the Crown Prince for his inevitable role in taking the reigns of the Empire himself.

The man had long been a close friend of the Empress, especially following her divorce from her husband years ago, the father to her four children. Lisette had always favored Fjoltsson in court, giving him increasing levels of influence until the position he attained today. Rumors swirled around court and Aureumterra’s high society about their relationship, with some claiming the Empress had taken him as a lover. Of course, those in court and in the aristocracy unhappy with the seeming influence wielded by him schemed against him, despite this, he had come to be seen as a primary force in court and an influence on the Empress… a dangerous position in some aspects.

She turned around, "Not today Frederik, you just rest for now, I will speak to him later."

He nodded, before resting back on the plush velvet pillow. A knock was heard on the large, arching door leading into the sanctum, as a palace attendant, a younger woman slowly pulled it open and peeked inside, "Your Imperial Majesty, the Ministry is waiting in the meeting room."

"I know, I will be out shortly." The Empress took to straightening her attire and making sure her dress was presentable. It was a crucial time, her reign had seen the Imperial Army making steady advances in fighting the insurgencies in the colonies. With multiple terrorist cells in Iceland destroyed and steady advances made deep into the Congo jungle, it seemed the instability that had plagued the Empire for so long was coming to a close. Her manner of dealing with these was rather simple,

No mercy.

She did not hesitate to order the destruction of entire settlements for the sake of taking out key known insurgents. In her mind, it was simply necessary, that they were complacent anyhow. Some looked at her methods as necessary, others saw it as cruelty. Over her decades-long reign, she had earned the nickname "Queen of Terror" among the Afrikaner insurgents in the Congo.

Of course, these matters were not discussed in the vicinity of her dear children.

Suddenly, the other smaller door leading into the room swung open hard, a younger boy stormed in, kicking off his baroque shoes and dropping himself onto the soft couch.

"Svein! Where are your manners?!" The Empress exclaimed, standing up.

The little prince crossed his arms, a scowl on his face as he looked down, "Mom! Chrissy keeps taking my army men set! She never gives it back!" He wailed.

Frederik turned over in bed, "Lord, can you be any louder?" He muttered, annoyed.

Lisette chuckled, "I’m sure she’ll give them back after she’s done playing." Lisette looked into an ornate mirror, as she groomed her golden-brown hair and straightened it. In the middle of her role as a monarch, guiding her people through pressing times, she was also a mother who needed to deal with her children’s fights and intrigue. She finished tending to herself and stood up, approaching her younger son.

"It’s not fair!" Svein whined.

"I have to see a few important people now, I’ll talk to her later, okay?" The Empress said, putting her hand on Svein’s shoulder. "Your brother is sick, try not to cause too much noise here." The prince continued looking downwards with a frown, his arms crossed in defiance.

"It’s fine mother, I’ll take care of this." Frederik said, stirring from the bed, "I’m not feeling that tired right now anyways."

"No no, you rest. I don’t want you going about the palace like this." Lisette got up to leave the room, turning back to her sons, "Don’t cause any problems between all of you while I’m gone, and Frederik, you please rest. Goodbye." She finished as she promptly left the room, carrying herself rigidly and with an aura of authority around her as she put her monarchical persona on.

Svein continued keeping his arms crossed, looking angry, "Mom always takes her side! Can you please tell Chrissy?"

Frederik sighed, "Alright." He lazily stumbled out of bed, straightening himself. He smiled at his brother in a somewhat mocking manner, "An Imperial Prince of Aureumterra, having a meltdown over his sister playing with his toy soldiers."

"It was my turn!" Svein retorted, flustered.

"Okay okay, calm down, I’ll figure it out." Even while down with a fever, he begrudgingly served as the wise older brother to his sibling’s fights. "Just don’t tell mother."

"I promise, thanks Brada!" Svein beamed, as he dragged his brother out to the other hallway, leading into the playroom…

[Aureumterra III]

Skånelandene
Tómas couldn’t see much in the pitch black void. The night was so dark it was essentially a blanket before his eyes, blocking them and leaving him to his other senses. He remained motionless as he was told by his father, kneeling behind what seemed to be a tree. The freezing air of the night cascaded around him, leaving him in a constant state of discomfort as he struggled to avoid shivering. His mother carefully had him embraced in a blanket along with his sister, but even then it couldn’t stand the air of the Aureumterrese winter. Small snowflakes swirled around, as brief flashes of light could be seen in the distance. He had to remain careful not to make a single noise… or as his father had told him, it would be the end in an instant.

His father motioned him and his mother to get up and begin moving. He could barely make out his father’s figure in the darkness, occasionally brightened by the half moon showing up between the clouds. His father looked around, making sure there were absolutely no signs of any Imperial Guards, soldiers, or police officers, and then whispered to his mother, "This should be far enough. We should be out of their sights completely by now."

He eased himself, as Tómas followed suit, while his mother and sister slowly got upright and wiped the snow off themselves. The partly cloudy sky obscured some of the sky, but his father's sense of direction remained keen, tailored from the time he was an insurgent leader in Iceland. He looked around one final time, making sure no one was there among the shadows, and pulled out a flashlight he’d managed to sneak out with him, and turned it on. The luminance brightened the area, making visible the heavy snow falling around them. Unfortunately this still clouded most of the view, blocking the flashlight from illuminating too far. Still, it was a nice relief for all of them after nearly two hours in pitch black darkness. The family began walking, still somewhat cautious as to not make too much noise, but at ease from earlier.

"Should be a few more kilometers and we’ll start to see the village - if my path was right." Tómas heard his father talking to his mother. "Are you sure, Ian? We’ve been walking for almost two hours now." His mother whispered back. Ian put his hand on her shoulder, "I know where we're going, don’t worry. We should be thanking God we made it this far, most don’t even make it out." He looked forwards, pointing the flashlight into the snowy air, which had begun to clear out slightly, allowing for greater visibility in the distance. "Come on now, they might still be coming, we can’t stay in one place like this, we have to be on the move." Ian began leading his family as they carefully but hurriedly made their way through the dense forest.

Tómas trusted his father’s instinct, this wasn’t the first time he'd been in a perilous situation, but this was their final chance. A final run at a free life, which would otherwise be lost forever. His father was one of the most prominent insurgent leaders in Iceland, taking up arms against the Empire when the initial crackdown began on the island nearly thirty years ago. Having been fighting for almost his entire life, either through low-key urban warfare, or leading militias in the interior, he’d permanently been at the brink of death. Tómas and his sister had largely been raised by their mother, Ian had made it a point to keep his children away from the violence, while keeping his own identity concealed to protect his family. Still, Tómas admired his father’s dedication to his cause and the liberation of their people, knowing he was putting his own life permanently on the line for it.

This relatively peaceful life, away from the frontlines had only been a temporary luxury for him, however. Following the Empire’s powerful crackdown on resistance activities on the island, along with new technological advances, mass surveillance was used to identify rebel leaders. Suddenly, his father was one of the most wanted "terrorists" in the Empire, with a lucrative bounty on his head, now that they had solidly identified him. Tómas, his mother, and then-newborn sister had to flee to the rebel encampments and militias waging the insurgency in the interior with their father, they were now being hunted down too.

And it was like this how he’d spent the last few years of his life, going from encampment to encampment, dodging the Imperial Army and witnessing his father and his comrades continuing their efforts for liberation. All until they were finally captured. He’d been forced to mentally prepare for this his entire life, always living on the brink of peril. He’d heard stories about the Imperial Army’s treatment of captured "terrorists" all his life. The interrogations, torture, living conditions… everything. There was even a saying among the rebels, once a man was taken to the mainland, they are already dead, and have just entered hell. And so they, along with numerous other captured rebel leaders were brought to the hells that were the holding camps. Scattered throughout the Empire, these were exclusively reserved for political militants, insurgents, and all others Potens deemed as "terrorists."

Very few even dreamed of escaping these - but by miraculous odds, Ian, always calculating and crafty as he’d been his entire life, had managed to escape with his family. The escape was planned for weeks, and their odds were low, but death or eternal torture awaited them on either side. They had nothing to lose. And so, they now were on the run. Capture now meant certain death… or a fate worse than it. There was no underestimation of the Empire’s brutality. It was the one chance at freedom, a final chance.

The snow had stopped by now, but the air had not gotten any warmer. The chilly wind of the night gripped them as they made their way through the woods, "Dad, it’s really cold…" Tómas barely let out words has he shivered. Ian looked at him with an eyebrow raised, "I know, I can’t do anything about it. You have to get used to this." He replied while continuing his stride. He then turned to his wife, "Did you bring another blanket?" He asked. She shook her head, "Don’t be ridiculous, we had absolutely no time."

They walked, saving their energy by not talking, as the wind blew occasionally. Another half hour had passed, finally lights could be seen in the distance as the snow had completely stopped. They’d made it here at least… now was the biggest challenge. The Baltic Strait was not small by any means. It would take over 3 hours on a rowboat or canoe to make it to Bornholm, and from there nearly 5 hours to Prussia-Poland. The Baltic was one of the most tense regions in the world, and by virtue of that numerous naval patrols and government vessels were always in the water. Ian had expected a manhunt to have begun by this point, as the guards would’ve noticed he’d escaped, and he expected the patrol boats to be equally as alert.

Ian gathered his children around, "Now listen carefully, we are going to go to the beach quietly. Do not do anything that can draw attention, understood?" They nodded. He continued, "There’s a bunch of boats out there, we are going to find one fast, and we will begin rowing. Now this is important, you two are to sit on opposite ends, and each take an oar. It will be heavy, but you need to do it. When I give the call, you row. If we are to get out across the sea alive, you must follow everything I tell you, is that clear?" They nodded again. "Good, now let’s go."

Tómas followed as they made it to the beach near the village, the moonlight shining onto the Baltic Sea and slightly illuminating the docks. They found a sizable boat, a fishing rowboat that seemed fairly sturdy. They quickly got on, making sure there was no one at the beach who could tip the authorities off on their location. Someone reporting a stolen boat was the last thing they needed at this point. Tómas took his seat, as they adjusted themselves into the boat and pushed off into the sea.

Then they began rowing.

The coordinated rows of all four of them got the medium sized boat to pick up considerable speed. Its streamlined figure was built to cut through ocean water, complementing its speedy pace through the sea. It wasn’t clear how much time had passed by, the first hour went by with relative ease. Now Tómas was beginning to wear out, he was still very young, and this was more physical labor than he’d ever done before, even during his time among insurgent militias with his father. He realized the severity of the situation however, and pushed on. The soft waves splashed against the side of the boat, the family avoided talking to conserve energy, they hadn’t brought any food due to the necessity of making a quick escape in a short window of time. His father had been over the whole procedure with them all for weeks repeatedly, but now any slight deviation would cost them all with their lives.

He could feel his arms burning more and more as another hour passed by. The sound of water splashing onto the boat and spilling in was getting painfully monotonous. At this point, he felt like his arms would simply buckle, or even fall off. His heart was beating at a rapid pace, not just due to the physical efforts but the tension of the situation as well. His breathing was heavy, along with everyone else.

Suddenly, his father yelled, "STOP! GET DOWN!" Tómas quickly did so, putting his head into the side compartment of the fishing boat and his body below the bench to conceal himself. He didn’t know why his father panicked, but he followed his call anyways. He lay hidden, not daring to move a single muscle until he was in the clear. He remained still for a while, at this point he had lost all perception of time, his entire body aching all around, burning from the saltwater and strained from the exhaustive rowing. He had no idea how long he was down there for, but it was a while. Eventually, his father told them to get back up, "There was a ship. I couldn’t tell what it was or of which country, but it was dangerously close, it could’ve spotted us. Anyways, continue." He instructed.

The rowing went on.

It was ironic. At this point, there wasn’t even pain and aching anymore, Tómas just stopped feeling his arms altogether. Yet he still continued rowing like a machine, the sheer determination and willpower of all four of them keeping them going. Finally, land was in sight. It wasn’t Prussia, that was still a long ways off, it was the island of Bornholm, as his father had calculated. They were unsure if news of their escape had gotten out among Aureumterrese security forces in the region, but they certainly expected so. However, the island provided a much needed place to rest for a while, before the longest stretch of this treacherous journey.

The boat glided towards the beach, softly setting itself on the white sand that shined in the moonlight. For Tómas, the stability of ground felt heavenly, his entire body was in pain and the soft, silky sand was a godsend. All four of them promptly got off, and spent almost half an hour just resting on the sand, catching their breath after the exhausting stretch. It was still imperative not to be seen, they were still in Aureumterra, and the Imperial Guard was likely on the lookout for them at this point.

The moonlight began to slightly fade as ominous dark clouds could be seen in the distance, the worst possible timing, Ian thought to himself. However, stalling was simply not an option now. It was now or never, turning back would likely mean going back under the oppressive heel of the Empire - or worse. After about an hour of simply resting on the sand, they got back up and promptly continued on their way. There was a faint hope of making it to Prussia before the looming storm hit, but Tómas knew it was unlikely, as he looked on the growing clouds. All 4 of them began rowing again. Usually his sister would be complaining, but the dire situation at hand convinced everyone to push through all of the pain and make it to their destination - and their only hope - as fast as humanly possible.

The clouds grew in size steadily as the hours passed. The strange tranquility of the ocean at the time was a calm before the storm… they all knew it. By the time they were roughly halfway through to the other side, where their salvation lay, the winds began to pick up. The air back in Aureumterra was freezing cold, but here it was strangely a lot warmer… and far more humid. A light drizzle began as Tómas, exhausted beyond description, still continued his rowing along with his family. It was life or death now.

The drizzle turned into a shower, and the shower turned into a downpour. Suddenly, a clap of thunder was heard loudly in the skies directly above, startling everyone in the boat. The wind picked up stronger, and large waves began to form. Tómas looked up, surprised to see his father crossing himself, as he momentarily paused his rowing. He motioned for his family, especially his children to come closer and huddle together. His voice was barely heard, extremely tired from all of the hours of rowing, "This storm is powerful, there will be big waves. Be prepared for it, the water is thankfully warmer here than back in Skånelandene, but it’s not pleasant. Hold firmly, and do not let go of the boat if it's steady, at any cost. I cannot be more clearer, hold on to the boat as if your life depends on it, because it does. No matter how big the waves are, DO NOT let go of the boat." Tómas, too tired to reply with his voice, simply nodded.

"And…" Ian’s voice turned somber and emotional, "No matter what happens to any of us… just know I love all of you." Tómas was taken aback by this, but he realized that the next few moments were crucial, and could decide the fate of their lives. He let out a weak, but passionate reply, "I love you too dad." His mother and sister joined in the hug, the family together in what could potentially be there last moments of doing so.

Suddenly, another clap of thunder was heard, and the rain picked up drastically. It became so heavy that Tómas could barely make out the rest of the boat. A large gust of wind blew, nearly knocking him out, but he followed his father’s words and held on to the boat. Suddenly, through the shadow of the heavy rain, he could make out a faint outline of what seemed to be a large cloud… only to realize in horror that it was actually a massive wave.

It crashed into the boat with the force of a truck, hitting the bow of the vessel with full force, right where he was sitting. He was almost swept into the ocean, were it not for him holding onto the boat. The freezing water of the wave caused him to shiver, but the adrenaline of the situation energized him to get back into his place. His family looked wide-eyed, reeling from what had just happened, when another even larger wave crashed, right into the stern, where his dad was.

The sheer force of this wave was inexplicable, it was a miracle the entire boat didn’t capsize. Tómas only heard a faint shout from his dad right before the wave hit, with him at the epicenter. "Arg-" Ian’s words were cut off as the wave swept the boat, with a thundering noise louder than that of a freight train. It was almost impossible to see anything in the mass of water that had overcome them, but Tómas could make out his father’s outline, initially holding on to the side of the vessel, and then… disappearing.

"NO! DAD!" He screamed with newfound energy. Ignoring the incoming waves, he jumped out into where his father was, as the crest of the water subsided and went back into the sea… an empty seat. Tómas’ eyes widened, his mouth gaping at what’d happened. He desperately looked around in the ocean, trying to search for any sign of his father at all, but to no avail, in the midst of more waves and a continuing heavy storm.

The realization hit his mother, "OH JESUS NO!" she panicked. "Where is he? Where did he go?!" She too began scanning the surrounding ocean, no signs of her husband at all.

"He went into the water…" Tómas said to his mother in a strangely calm voice in spite of the situation. Almost spontaneously, his sister began sobbing, he embraced her as the storm around them neutralized and eventually subsided, almost as quickly as it had begun. It would’ve been comical if it weren’t for the situation, almost like a cruel joke played by nature, right in their last stretch, mere kilometers away from safety.

"He’s gone now…" Tómas said to the two other remaining members of his family on the boat. "Just like that."

He remained without words, a neutral expression on his face as he just continued rowing like a robot. His sister continued sobbing uncontrollably, her brother and mother too distracted and traumatized by what had just happened to pay attention for the time. No one spoke a word for the next few hours. An eerie silence fell over them as the clouds cleared, the rising sun of dawn coming out and putting a tranquil, golden shine over the sea.

Finally, a ship was sighted. The red and white banner that marked it as a Polish one was visible on its side. His mother stood up and waved to the ship, while he remained too weak to say anything. It seemed to a a Polish naval patrol, they’d heard of the Aureumterrese diaspora community in PPC before, and the PPC governments willingness to accept political exiles and refugees. The ship approached in the golden sunlight, it almost looked like a scene from a movie, one which would signify a happy ending.

However, this "ending" was anything but that. Tómas observed as the Polish put out lifebuoy, the three of them holding on as they left the boat that’d carried them and were pulled in to the Polish ship. He used what energy he had left to climb the ladder, onto the deck, where their officials awaited. His mother quickly began to explain the situation, while he took the time to process everything that had happened. He began crying the power of emotions overwhelming the young boy, and almost randomly, and collapsed onto the deck of the ship, safe at last… but at what cost?

[Aureumterra III]

Skípanabygging, Potens
It was not often the top brass of the Imperial Armed Forces all gathered at Skípanabygging, the General Staff Building, at once in peacetime. The longstanding interservice rivalry between the branches had caused a great strain for the Imperial Government’s leadership, but now a coherent plan or at the very least, a direction was imperative as the geopolitical situation got more tense. The Chief Minister of the Imperial Government, Marquess Jørn Bonde had decided to finally convene all of these men, generals, admirals, marshals, the highest men in the Imperial Armed Forces, at last to get a sense of direction amid all the chaos.

The room was fairly large, a hall with a wide array of desks and a large screen at the front, complete with a hologram display with maps and statistics relevant to the discussion. Bonde stood up and spoke to the gathered officers, "Good evening, gentlemen."

The room went silent as he began, even in the relative chaos of the gathering, the officers had clearly split themselves by service branch, the blueish army officer uniforms being split next to the white naval uniformed men. Almost symbolically, the leaders of the Air Force, a much smaller group, sat as a "buffer" between the two groups. The silence in the room pointed towards the tension, which could be felt by everyone within.

Bonde continued, "As you all know, we are gathered here to discuss the ongoing situation - and to what direction the Empire’s armed forces shall be working in to carry out HIM’s goals. I want to stress foremost that it is imperative for us to have a common goal and methodology of working towards it in mind, as without one, we will be left woefully ineffective in the face of increasing hostile forced who wish to upend the Holy order our Empire upholds."

"And that is the reason why we need to take direct action against them, now!" Lieutenant Marshal Olaf Sigurdsson piped up, one of the most experienced of the Army leadership, he had recently been advising the Emperor himself on dealing with the ongoing insurgencies. "We have been fighting insurgents for a long time now, though we are making progress, let’s face it, we must cut the head of the snake. These insurgents aren’t magically getting everything, they are being funded by these same powers. We are the bigger threat here, our Empire makes the nations of the world tremble with its vast might, it is about time we stop letting them be a thorn in our side and assert ourselves at last."

"Excuse me Marshal, are you suggesting a full on invasion of foreign countries at this moment?" Admiral Nicolaj Lund raised an eyebrow at Sigurdsson’s comments.

"Of course not, that would be laughable, however, if we directly intervene in their own conflicts and flex our might at last, not only would their resources be diverted, but it will show the world as a whole that this Empire is not one to be kicked around."

The Admiral slightly chuckled, "I mean no offense, Marshal, but isn’t that a, dare I say, idealized view? What would truly be laughable is to assume that such rash actions like the ones you suggest wouldn’t weaken our standing further, not when we have internal issues to deal with, and especially not when our leverage in trade and economical clout can do far more for us. Let’s face it, though we may be able to take on one of these smaller nations, Lauzanne, PPC, maybe even the Germans or Nifon one on one, they have formed their own defensive pact. There is little chance we will come out successful in a direct confrontation against all of them, not with out current status… but things can change."

Sigurdsson shook his head, "With all due respect, we have been trying these "subtle" and "indirect" methods for far too long, with little improvement in our situation. Our brewing alliance with the Cassadians has brought in an entirely new responsibility into the mix, we can’t keep being passive like this, it will just continue to weaken us until we have little standing left."

"Please calm down, all of you!" Bonde chimed in. "We are not here to make a decision, that power solely lies in the Crown. And HIM - good health upon him - has made his preference for continued proxy support and economic influence clear. Intervention is out of the question at the moment."

The Army officers at this point were almost giving a death stare across the room, until another officer, General Svend Holberg, spoke, "Even within our borders, we are able to escalate far more than we have. If we can crush these insurgents once and for all, we can show the entire world our power."

"And how has that approach worked out so far?" Admiral Lund once again retorted. "To return to what Marshal Sigurdsson said, we need to cut the head of the snake - though I would prefer the term "starve" in this case. Intervention is simply not feasibly, but we can’t brute force these domestic terrorists out of existence either. We need to strike at their foreign backers where it hits hardest - trade and their economy. The can’t back terrorists if they have nothing to back them with."

“The admiral makes a valid point, while it is tempting to rush in and intervene, it would be dangerous, especially if we consider Wenchuan… intervention there would sour relations with the Nifonese permanently. They are not yet open enemies of Aureumterra, and it is better we keep it this way, as per HIM’s wishes.” Bonde interjected. As the face of the crown and its government in this room, he had essentially made a judgement on this deliberation. It was unsurprising, the Emperor had not been subtle in his bias towards the navy, after all, he himself had served as a naval officer.

The irony here was that the army was staffed by men who could be called far more fanatic Imperialists than the navy, yet their difficulties in subduing the insurgents in Iceland and Mittelafrika had caused great dishonor for the Army, giving the Navy the firm upper hand in this interservice rivalry. The Army officers in the room looked uneasy, they knew they needed to show the results they had been promising for so long in fighting these terrorists, for the Emperor had grown impatient. Unless they did, their influence and ideas in the government would lose the clout they had held for the past decade.

Bonde sensed this, and quickly added, “We all have different ideas here, but do not forget our mission, to defend the Holy Order we uphold, the authority of the Emperor, and the glory of our Fatherland. I trust all of you to carry out your duties in their fullest at the behest of HIM and for the benefit of the Empire.”

He continued, "Furthermore, in order to maintain our commercial standing and hold together the numerous domains of the Empire, a larger portion of the Kongo resources will be allocated to the Navy for the purpose of building and maintaining vessels to project our interests."

General Holberg got out of his seat, visibly angry, "Why do they need another super carrier that will do nothing but circle in the ocean? We are fighting terrorists here, on our own land, but this is where you choose to focus your effort?"

Lund laughed, "Have you been asleep this entire time? There will be no terrorists or insurgents if their foreign backers - of which there are many - have nothing to back them with."

"Oh do you really believe you can destroy an entire insurgent group by circling them with ships? You need boots on the ground to wipe them out once and for all, this is a pointless move!" The general retorted

"Excuse me, are you suggesting The Crown is poor in its judgement?"

The entire room seemed like it went cold. Such a belligerent attitude could easily be misconstrued as treasonous behavior, the General’s voice shook, "I-I can’t believe you have the gall to suggest something like that. This is logic, you can’t take out an enemy without soldiers on the ground. A ship isn’t going to push back hordes of enemy troops."

"But we aren’t going to be fighting enemy troops anytime soon, at least not head on, we will be starving them by straining their trade and commerce, an unhappy population as a whole makes for a very weak government." The Admiral replied, smugly.

A large murmur was heard from the disgruntled Army officers, frustrated at the course of the conversation. Bonde interjected, "HIM has decreed we are not to pursue unnecessary aggression, as such, our interests in weakening the commercial of our enemies at the moment supersede those of overt aggression. The allocation stands."

An uproar was heard, as officers reacted either with anger or smugness at this.

And with that Bonde stood up, everyone in the room following along with him.

“Thank you for attending, gentlemen, it has been a pleasure, I will inform the Palace of the matters we have discussed immediately.”

And with that, he dismissed the meeting. The officers filed out, still maintaining the rigid segregation by service branch as they had when they entered, except this time it seemed even more pronounced. The Imperial Navy officers in an almost jovial mood, and the Imperial Army officers to the contrary.

[Aureumterra III]

Somewhere in the Arctic Ocean
When he closed his eyes, he would imagine himself back at his home. His cozy fireplace, himself in a pleasant, warm recliner that rocked gently back and forth in front of it. The sounds of his two boys playing around the house, the smell of wine being mulled and gingerbread being baked by his wife. He knew that scene was a far-off dream. But it didn’t stop him from indulging in it. Indulging in hope. Hope that one day, he will be right there again, with his wife at his side and his sons at his foot, recalling the days and laughing at them. He was a man of incredible faith.

Of course, one had to be to devote their entire life to the Lord.

But then, just as he is about to get lost in these fantasies, in this scene of pure, unbridled happiness, reality always hit him. And each time, it hit harder.

Darkness came over the small, damp cell as water slowly dripped from an unseen source at the top. Of course, this darkness was barely a difference from what had been before. The only source of light here was through a small, likely unintentional crack in the corner. But for the last six months, this crack was his only source of sunlight. He was one of the lucky ones. Those who got placed deeper in the complex had nothing but pitch blackness all day and night apart from what light streamed in when the guards gave them their food. Up here, sunlight was already a rare, valuable commodity as is, let alone through a small crack. He had never realized how vital it was for the functioning of the human body until now. The severe lack of vitamin D had taken its toll on him, he had already lost two teeth and counting, his skin had drained of all color whatsoever, becoming a cold and pale, near-transparent showing all of the blood vessels underneath. Around him was the same exact configuration he had seen every single moment of his life for these months. A small cell, barely even ten meters across and six meters wide, with nothing but a small cot as furnishing. His only view of the outside world, apart from that crack, was the small slit in the steel door of the cell, which only opened twice a day for a few brief moments before closing again to send in food and water. The lack of light was still not as overwhelming as the total lack of sound was. The silence was deafening. For all of his days, all he could hear was his own breathing and heartbeat. The walls were reinforced with multiple layers of material preventing even the loudest crash getting through cells. He had no idea who was in the cells next to him, or if there was even anyone there. At times, it felt like it was just him in the entire complex.

He could remember the events as if they happened a day ago. Him and his fellow Ministers congregating at their usual meeting place. They had been coming here for years at that point, congregating in secret and discussing. They all knew what they were risking. They had all heard the stories of those who were discovered, what they went through after being nothing other than hell on earth. But none of them had expected one of their own to be the one to bring it all upon them. He could vividly recall the horror on the faces of everyone in the room as the door burst open, the armored soldiers rushing in, violently beating and seizing every man in the room. He remembered the soulless grin on the traitor’s face as he was brutally beaten by two soldiers with the butts of their rifles. A traitor not just to them, but to God himself. Their purpose was to discuss the idolatrous nature of the state of affairs, one which claims to be synonymous with the Faith, yet continues to make a mockery out of it. And just like that, from that moment onwards, they found no relief.

They were all split up to avoid conspiring with one another. In the eyes of the regime, they were the most dangerous people in the country. Organized crime bosses and serial killers were secondary, for their captors, they were the largest threat to peace and stability. At first they were all crudely thrown into an ordinary detention facility not far from where they lived. The conditions were brutal, nights had to be spent out in the open, the mass of prisoners all huddling with each other’s bodies as their only source of warmth. What rations they were given were barely enough to keep the body functioning, far from fulfilling. During the day, one by one men were pulled aside by the security officers, sometimes asked questions, other times beaten just for fun. He could recall spending day and night hearing the screams of people pulled to other rooms where they would be brutally abused. It was even worse when the ones being beaten were friends or family of those he could see nearby, people recognizing their brother’s, father’s, or son’s voices agonizingly coming out. He thought it was the lowest mankind could get.

But compared to what came next, this may have been a five star resort.

Once the dreaded trial date came, one that each one of them was going through one by one, until his turn came, he knew nothing would ever be the same again. They all knew going in that it was a sham, that no one was ever really acquitted. And so, it shocked him even more that he discovered his mind still had a small glimmer of hope, one that shattered completely when the magistrate read from the document in front of him,

"By the power vested in this body by the Crown, the accused has been found guilty on all counts, conspiracy against HIM’s Government, threatening the peace of the Empire, threatening the stability of the Empire, and threatening the personal safety of HIM.

The sentence as discerned shall be death."

And with those cold words, words which lacked any sense of humanity whatsoever, his fate was sealed. But before it came, he had to go through what many warned was a process worse than death. First came the interrogations. The days on end of brutal torture to try to get names of accomplices, other groups they knew of, conspiracies they knew of, and whatever else they could get their hands on. He was one of the lucky ones who didn’t outright die as a side effect of these. He wished he had maintained his loyalty and his faith during this, after all, the good guys in epic books and movies always do. But he wasn’t Odysseus or Spartacus, he was at the end a man. And he could not help himself but let slip names and plans. Every day had a different, equally terrifying fate for him. Sometimes he would be handcuffed so tight that for moments, the blood circulation to his wrists would feel like it has completely cut off. Other times, guards would take turns with interrogation, almost as if it was some sort of game to them, a game to extract the most information to get their sweet promotions.

Then, at last, he was taken to the facility where he was scheduled to live his last days and ultimately meet his demise. No one knew exactly where it was, all that was known was it was on a remote island somewhere in the Arctic. Escape was a laughable idea from here. Once you came here, you never went back.

The first few days felt longer than any other in his life. After that, it all just became a blur. A remarkable thing the human brain was, he thought. Spending all of his days for months on end alone in this small cell, he thought he would have gone completely mad by this point, but he was pleasantly surprised at his own resilience. He knew his life hung by a thread no matter what, during his first month, he was fully expecting to be executed sooner or later. When one is at the brink of death, it almost feels like they unlock parts of their mind which they did not even know existed. His life had been flashing before his eyes. Not in a brief, fleeting moment as happens to someone before certain death, but almost as a slow movie, the death march of a man who knew at any point he could wake up and find himself in heaven. Yet the execution never came. He had absolutely no idea or thought regarding what delayed it so long. He had heard of many of his former colleagues, those in the same movements as he was. The regime never waited this long to rid itself of people such as him, often people deemed too dangerous to leave alive. At times, he felt that this psychological torture was a fate worse than death, that being dead would leave him better off.

When these thoughts began to take hold of his mind and send him down that spiral, he would always fall back on one thing. The only thing that had been with him throughout this entire time. He reached under his cot and carefully brought it up. It was a small, wooden crucifix, nothing too special. It had been given to him after his ordination, a present from a family member he’d barely ever met. Its source wasn’t important however, but the fact that it was the only object that he had kept throughout his entire ordeal strangely gave him the force to keep going and not give in to these thoughts.

He wasn’t naive.

He knew that at every single place he had been, the guards were ordered to strip him of any objects whatsoever. He didn’t hide it, it was impossible to hide anything from them. But consistently, at each place, everything else including his normal clothes were taken away, but this cross never was. At the first facility, the guards turned a blind eye. At the next one, the man in charge of searching him saw the cross, took it, but hesitated and handed it back to him without a word. And when he arrived here, it was seized initially, but slipped through with his food on the second day. He did not know why they kept hesitating to seize that particular item from him, multiple people from completely different places at that. Perhaps he would never know why, at least until he was in heaven himself at the side of God’s throne. But for now, it emanated an aura that always put him out of misery no matter the dire circumstances.

His thoughts were interrupted by the opening of the slit. He stood up from the cot and moved to the door, getting on his knees in order to each the slit. It was the same as every day, He never saw the man’s face, just his eyes.

But the eyes often told a story that dwarfs that of the face.

He knew it was the same man every day. And it was the same process every day. All within a minute. A tray with bread, a piece of meat, and a glass of water slipped in. Upon receiving it, he softly said "God bless you" as he did every day.

But today, the slit didn’t close immediately upon receiving the food. Today, he could tell, the man looked for a couple seconds longer before closing it…

[Aureumterra III]

Hospital Wing, Överhallen
“There appear to be no health issues with either you or the child, Your Imperial Majesty.” A blond man with neatly combed hair dressed in a labcoat said to Ingrid. The Empress lay spread across a hospital bed, with an elevated upper third, allowing her to rest her neck and torso on its back while supporting her womb. The doctor stood besides her reading reports, while an ultrasound showed up on the monitor. Two nurses stood close by, keeping a close eye on the monitor.

The room, despite being host to numerous top of the line medical equipments and having many wires and monitors scattered across it, measures in place to be ready to give the best medical care which was able to be offered in the world at any given moment, maintained a rustic, ornate charm that emanate throughout the rest of the estate. The walls were painted a gentle shade of brownish gold, easy on the eyes and relaxing for anyone interred here. The bed lay towards the edge of the room, on the opposite side of the door which served as its main entrance. A small window on the perpendicular wall revealed a beautiful view of the estate grounds outside.

“Thank you so much, doctor. I pray it shall remain that way.” Ingrid said softly as she gently run her hand over her abdomen. The pregnancy had thoroughly exhausted her, but she had laboured through it looking towards the light at the end of the tunnel. Despite all of her years, even in marriage, she had never realized the true ramifications of motherhood and the reality of having a child until now. It was both exciting and tense at the same time, with an added layer considering who this child was to be.

The pregnancy had not been announced to the public. Ingrid continued her normal duties as Empress of Aureumterra in the first few weeks. Once it started to become more obvious, she retreated to Överhallen where she planned to remain until she came to term. The official reason for this so far was a vague “health reasons.” That didn’t stop any speculation in the media, doubly so considering this child was to be the firstborn. The seclusion and tranquility of the estate had greatly assisted her health through the last few weeks.

“And the gender?” Frederik asked, looking inquisitively at both the doctor and the ultrasound while seated a few meters away from the bed. Ingrid was somewhat surprised by the question, something she hadn’t taken time to consider earlier.

The doctor hesitated to respond, the Emperor pressed, “It has been almost 30 weeks. You should be able to tell the gender by now.”

The doctor looked with a hint of fear in his eye at both the nurses, who seemed to share that same feel. His tone got much lower, “You Imperial Majesty… it’s a girl.”

Frederik raised an eyebrow, “Are you absolutely sure? There is no doubt about this whatsoever?” It was clear the Emperor was upset by the news, his usually relaxed demeanor in domestic settings visibly tensing.

The doctor hesitated once again, “Yes.”

The Emperor let out a long sigh. He gave a long look at the ultrasound and his wife. “Can I have some time alone with her?”

Ingrid frowned, turning her head towards her husband with a quizzical look. She knew the ramifications of this, it had just never occurred to her before, in all her attention focused on her own health as well as that of her child, coupled with the excitement of having a child at last.

The nurses and the doctor both prostrated themselves before exiting the room, leaving the couple to their own.

Frederik stood up and approached the bed, putting his hand on his wife’s womb. “We’ll have to try again.” His voice became a lot softer, losing the authoritative Imperial nature he spoke with in the presence of most. “You must carry it to term, then we’ll have to try again.”

Ingrid scowled at her husband, an expression of surprise and slight anger visible on her face, “Carry it to term? She’s your daughter! What do you mean, are you just going to see her as a one-off? A mistake?” The Empress was shocked at the seeming lack of her husband’s affection for the child. She had begun to feel what many termed were natural, almost animalistic motherly instincts. A sense of deep rooted protection for her unborn child had already set in, and the lack of reciprocity from her husband had caught her off guard.

“Of course not!” Frederik was taken aback by this brazen outburst from his wife. “You completely missed the point. We must secure the succession, and having no male heirs puts all of that in jeopardy, to say the least. Might I remind you what Mother went through to secure the throne - it nearly resulted in the collapse of the Empire and the Throne’s very existence.”

He was of course, referring to the events of 1989. A saga that had nearly brought the country to an all-out civil war. The sudden death of a reigning Emperor whose only male heir was his youngest, most inexperienced, and extremely publicly unpopular son. What followed was multiple coups by ambitious generals, warring factions within the Imperial government, intervention by the Russians, and the descent of the government and power structure into complete anarchy. It was only ended with then Princess Lisette’s coup, installing herself on the throne as Empress, after which she purged the government and did her best to maintain an iron fisted grip on the state, managing against all odds to bring the instability to an end at last. It truly must have been God’s will that the Empire prosper, making it through that.

It was the year that had defined all of Aureumterra’s history in the 21st century. The consolidation of power in the hands of the monarchy was done to ensure nothing of that sort repeats again. Yet Frederik continued to remain cautious. He knew the person who sat on the Sun Throne was elect by God himself, and bore the responsibility of securing it from anyone who dares challenge its legitimacy.

Frederik took another look at the ultrasound. He sighed again, “Listen, I know that this is an exciting moment for us. But we must also stay grounded in the reality of the situation and be vigilant. She isn’t coming into the world as just a person. She has been elected by God, divinely ordained to be born into this very House. Her very existence is divine in nature. At the same time, we have to recognize that there will be those who claim a lack of legitimacy if we cannot produce a male heir. In their eyes, the lack of having one is a sign from God that our line has lost its legitimacy.”

Frederik turned around, giving a long glance toward the pale, yet ornately decorated wall of the hospital wing, as he continued, “And for them, that means the crown goes back to Mother and follows the line of succession down to the next male heir after me. The second son. And you know who that is.

The Empress lifted herself up, sitting up on the bed, “I understand all of it, but you shouldn’t neglect her. She is your daughter as much as she is mine. She isn’t just a political obstacle and I won’t allow you to treat her as such.”

Frederik’s tone now became audibly angry, as he turned back towards the bed and his wife, “What makes you possibly think I would do that? Of course she is my child, but I shall not raise her in the expectation she takes the throne. After all, at some point, we shall have a suitable male heir. The lack of one could threaten the very future of the country.”

“And what if we don’t?” Ingrid retorted, raising her tone to match that of her husband. The mood in the room became extremely tense as the two now looked each other in the eyes, “You don’t want history repeating itself. God forbid, but anything can happen to either of us, you do not want a woefully unprepared heiress on the throne, just to be taken advantage of all over again and send the Empire into chaos.”

Frederik shook his head, he sat back down on the chair. “Of course. But I have faith in the lord. Faith that he shall bless us with a suitable heir who shall be universally seen as a legitimate one with no questions, ensuring the stability of the Empire forevermore. We just have to be patient.”

There was a long moment of silence, silence that felt like a razor through skin, before Ingrid finally looked down. “I just don’t want you to ignore her. Treat her as your daughter, not a potential heiress or a liability. Think beyond your lineage and succession for a while. Just be a father.”

The Emperor put his hand on his forehead, recanting himself from the anger outburst he had just minutes ago. He looked down as he considered the words of his wife. This didn’t secure the succession as he had hoped. This brought with it many complications which had the potential to threaten the very stability of his reign - and by extension his oath to God, which he took upon bearing the crown of the Empire. Yet he was also soon to be a parent. He had been brought up his entire life, conditioned to take the throne, to think about everything from the perspective of his lineage and his reign. It was an extraordinarily difficult mental task for him to put it all aside and just be a father. He knew it was going to be difficult, there would be tension, and felt mixed emotions about the situation.

It was one of those rare moments he wished he was just a commoner, a regular man working a day job coming home to greet his wife and children in the evening.

“I shall try my best.” He simply told his wife, whose expression shifted to a slight smile.

“Should we make it public?” She asked, her voice soft to the point it was practically a whisper, despite the fact there was no one in the room except the couple and their unborn daughter.

“Yes.”

[Aureumterra III]

Potens
Seven Years Ago
Sofia put a towel around her shoulders as she got out of the swimming pool, wiping herself dry before putting on a robe wrapping around her swimsuit. She walked towards the end of the pool, where a small shack stood, with a table and a few chairs in it. A singular candle lay on the table, glowing in the evening twilight. A young man followed her, wiping himself dry after getting out of the pool and putting a casual T-shirt on. He allowed her to take the seat first, smiling at her. On the other side of the pool from the shack was the entrance to an ornate villa, led in by a glass door. Servants watchfully stood around the area, ready to wait on the two if needed.

"You really didn’t have to do all of this, Frede" Sofia said while smiling back, taking her seat on one side of the table.

He sat down at the opposite side, putting his arms on the table. "It’s the least I could."

"Smile!" A young woman said, pointing a camera at the two as they posed for the picture. "You’ve got to be careful, Christina." Frederik said, beckoning to his sister, who continued to hold the camera. "You never know how things like this can get out."

"Oh it’s fine!" She laughed, "You two look cute together. You’ll want to keep these for the memories." She pulled up a chair and took a seat at the table as well, putting her head down and looking sideways at her older brother. "Thanks for letting me come along, sorry if I’m being intrusive."

Sofia laughed, "Oh you’re perfectly fine! It’s great to have any of this at all."

A crew of waitstaff came and began serving their meal, an appetizer followed by the entree while the three chatted.

Christina inquisitively looked at Sofia, "Did you really go to school for eight hours every day and come home?"

"That’s what everyone does. It’s not abnormal." She replied in between bites. "Most people don’t have tutors where they live." She had not been born to any family of rank, quite the opposite. She was a mere commoner, born to a middle class family and had been studying in Potens. It was only a year ago when she found out the Crown Prince was visiting the university. As one of the top students in the class, she was chosen to be one of the student ambassadors, who would be meeting him personally during the visit. She could not have imagined what fate had in store for her, it was almost a fairy tale cliche, the story of love at first sight. But it was practically what had happened to her, meeting Frederik on this chance encounter, him getting her contact info, and things going off from there. They had to keep their relation under wraps for obvious reasons, she would often meet him in smaller palaces or estates as to not attract attention or suspicion. Very few people, her closest friends and family, knew about this.

Both of them knew this wouldn’t be long-term, at least with the present circumstances. The prospect of a commoner ascending to a position of rank such as Crown Princess - the future Empress-Consort of Aureumterra would never be something the Empress would approve of. But for the time being, they just enjoyed their time together, not worrying about the future ramifications of this affair.

As they finished up their meal, Frederik had a smirk on his face, to which Sofia raised her eyebrows. She stood up and gasped in a mix of shock and excitement as she saw what it was for - a massive cake, larger than she had ever seen, three layers, was wheeled in. In large lettering on the top, Tillykke Med Fødselsdagen Sofia (Happy Birthday Sofia). A small figure was on the top, seemingly of herself, wearing a gown and tiara - almost as if she herself was an Empress. She quickly embraced Frederik in a tight hug, almost shocking him, as he laughed. "Oh my god!" She nearly squealed.

"Do you like it?" He asked, beaming.

"Of course! It’s wonderful!" She continued hugging him, as Christina took another picture of them. A few birthday candles were lit by a waiter, who quickly prostrated and handed Sofia a knife.

"We have to sing!" Christina exclaimed, taking yet another picture of Sofia cutting the birthday cake. And they did, the two siblings sang her happy birthday, recording it on her camera. For Sofia, it was almost surreal. Never in a trillion years would she have thought she would be standing here having a birthday with the Crown Prince and Imperial Princess of Aureumterra. All three had plenty of cake thereafter.

"Do you want to stay?" Frederik asked Sofia following the meal. She looked somewhat surprised, "What?"

"Do you want to stay here tonight?" He asked again, slightly smiling. "I don’t have to be back at the Höll until tomorrow afternoon, we could just stay here tonight." The villa they were at was a property of the Imperial Family, almost a little mini-palace in the middle of Potens, gifted by a certain close friend of Empress Lisette’s.

"Oh- sure." Sofia was somewhat hesitant, which Frederik picked up on.

"You don’t have to. I can head back n-" He was interrupted,

"No no, we can." She said more confidently.

Christina had a wide grin the entire time, "Well then, I’ll head to the Höll, I don’t think Mom’s returning from Skånelande until tomorrow. I’ll leave you two at it."

"What do you mean by that?" Frederik asked inquisitively.

"Oh nothing- nothing at all." Christina answered clearly sarcastically.

"If you’re suggesting th-"

"I said nothing." She said, continuing to grin, as her brother simply sighed. She walked over to the other end of the swimming pool, approaching an Imperial Guard standing there, "Get the motorcade ready, I’ll be leaving soon." She turned back around to Sofia, "I’ll see you soon too!" The two hugged, and Christina left.

"Let’s go inside. It’s getting cold out here." Frederik told Sofia, and they went into the Villa. They entered a modern looking room with a white finish and a glass fireplace going on the side. Two long couches lay facing a large flatscreen tv across the room. A staircase led up to another floor above, and a large kitchen was on the side. He dropped himself on a couch and spread his legs on the side, while she kicked off her slippers and did the same. The two sat there in silence for a moment.

"When are you going to tell the Empress?" Sofia softly asked him.

Frederik turned his head in an almost confused fashion, "I- I don’t know. Why bring that up anyways?"

She shook her head, "How long will we be doing this? Playing hide and seek with the Empress of Aureumterra? If you don’t tell her soon enough, she may find out in a way that will end terribly for both of us."

"Sofia you know why I can’t. You know well what the issues are, I can’t just go and tell her about this. You think she will just be fine with it?" His voice became noticeably uncomfortable. He knew his mother would be disapproving if not outright disgusted, he knew as long as she reigned it was impossible for him to advance this relationship into a marriage. Unless she had a major change of view or - god forbid - he were to become Emperor much earlier than expected, there was no near future for them to be public. It wouldn’t be unprecedented, but undoubtedly scandalous, maneuvering keeping his image with this would be tricky.

He didn’t want to think about it.

"Get me vodka." He told an attendant standing nearby. "Do you want anything to drink?"

"I’ll take it too." Sofia said, as two glasses were poured and served to them. Frederik turned on the television, finding something to watch and take his mind off the elephant in the room that Sofia had just brought up. He raised his glass, and she did the same, "Cheers, Happy Birthday." He said softly and drank.

They began watching a movie that was on. Both got another glass once the first round was over, and another. They spoke little as they watched and drank, occasionally commenting on what was happening on screen. As the movie came to an end, Frederik weakly got up, with Sofia following. "Let’s go upstairs."

And they did. They went into the master bedroom, a magnificent wooden room that contrasted the marble white finishing the rest of the villa had. It had once been the property of the Empress’ friend and Imperial Guard commander Heinrik Fjoltsson, his family crest still remained above the fireplace in the room, next to the crest of the House of Ålta. A large window on the side of the room, looking out into the city, was draped with thick velvet curtains as to not let any views in. A large bed, with a canopy of intricately carved oak wood lay at the end of the room.

Frederik turned around and locked the door as he entered after Sofia. She was still in her swimsuit, with the robe around it. "Do you want to get changed before bed?" He asked her.

She didn’t reply. She took a seat at the side of the bed and looked longingly at the Crown Prince.

"Why the fuck won’t you just tell her and marry me!" She said suddenly, clearly upset. "I don’t want to keep pretending like this isn’t what it is!"

Frederik was surprised by this sudden outburst, he was wordless for a moment, "I-"

"Are you so afraid of your own mother?!" She continued.

"There is far more to this than just her. I can’t just break the very conventions that have existed for centuries-" Frederik began to reason before Sofia interjected again,

"What conventions? Other members of your family have done it in the past, your mom has the authority to grant an aristocratic title to anyone. Just do it already, so we can get married and be legitimate. I can’t keep doing this!"

"I know, it would be much easier if I was Emperor - but it’s not just that. There’s the old aristocracy, they will not see it the same way, many of them will disapprove-"

"Then fucking kill them! You’re the Crown Prince! You’re the next Emperor!"

Frederik was throughly surprised at her, yet, perhaps it was the alcohol, but he saw some of what she was saying. An act such as granting her family a title and marrying her would be seen as a brazen breach of tradition by many in the aristocracy - but doing so and silencing those who criticized it would further solidify his own power and authority over that of the petty nobility which he seeked to purge and consolidate in the state. But it was an ambitious thought, and he was in no position to do so yet.

"I’ll see. I hope I can come clean soon… if things go right." He said, getting onto the bed, as he rested a hand on her thigh. "We’ll do it, it might just take time but we will - I pray we will."

Sofia, now calmed down, put her own hand on him. "I just want to stop scurrying around like this." She embraced him again and kissed him on the cheek. He embraced her back. She took off the robe around her swimsuit, which was still on and unchanged from the pool.

What happened next can only be described as a euphoria. They went down into the soft cotton bed together. Frederik had no perception of how much time had passed, or what he was doing, or what he was seeing or hearing.

The next few minutes - hours maybe even were a complete blur. All he felt was her. And he felt a safety, a pleasure he had never felt in his life in that moment.

When he opened his eyes, he was shocked to see sunlight pouring in through the window. The bed was wet.

It took him a few minutes, but the realization of what he had just done hit harder than a speeding train. And it hit him with such a shock that he jolted up, realizing that he had no clothes on. He found the T shirt and shorts was wearing last night laying near the bed and quickly put them on.

He still was reeling from the shock- the guilt- even the shame of what had just happened. He had broken a sacred oath, one of the critical commandments of the Lord in his moment of carelessness. He just prayed that it was just that, and not any more than just that…

[Aureumterra III]

Höll Glæsilegt, Potens
The booming sound of whirring rotors could be heard as a helicopter landed in the gardens of the Imperial Palace, easing its way into the grass and coming to a halt. The grass around it blew in the downdraft from the roots, and eased out as the spinning came to a stop and the aircraft rested. The only passenger was the Crown Prince, sitting in the back, now dressed in the usual white suit and epaulettes that was characteristic of his rank.

"Where was I last night?" He inquisitively asked the pilot, a stern tone in his voice carrying the usual air of authority he had when he spoke.

"Inspecting an Air Base in Nørrebro, staying there due to the time." He responded, a hint of fear in his voice, hoping he had gotten the rehearsed answer correct. He knew exactly what the consequences of slipping up on this intimate detail would be.

"Takk" Frederik nodded as he climbed out of the helicopter. A stony brick path winded through the gardens of the palace grounds, leading up to the titanic building that stood in front of him. He quickly made his way through the gardens, ignoring the beautifully pruned hedges and fountains that lined the path. He made sure to adjust his attire so as to not let any hint of what had transpired. As he made his way towards the doors leading into the back of the palace, two Imperial Guards snapped to a salute and opened them, leaving his pace uninterrupted. He made his way through the hallway within, lined by more Imperial Guards, until he got to the smaller private dining room.

The room was rather simple compared to the intricate and extravagant nature of the rest of the palace. A simple white wall lined the back, alongside a similarly colored ceiling. A window looked out into the gardens on the side, with somewhat transparent curtains reminiscent of a bridal veil covering them, yet still letting the afternoon sunlight stream in. A small wooden table lay in the middle

A single man sat at the table, in a relaxed posture as if he was expecting him. He was tall in stature, his neatly combed blonde hair complementing the uniform he wore. The medallions on his chest gave his rank - Commander of the Imperial Guard, a title bestowed upon him by Frederik’s mother.

"Høloj, Heinrik." Frederik said, greeting Fjoltsson, realizing that he indeed had been awaiting him. He took a seat at the table, a hint of fear in his usually domineering self visible to the man across from him.

"Høloj." He replied, almost inquisitively, a tone that made Frederik even more fearful. "Have you eaten yet?"

"No." Frederik looked down at the table, which was empty. "Nevermind however, I’m not very hungry today."

"Very well then." Fjoltsson turned to look at Frederik in the eye, his eyebrows in a frown, "Where were you last night?"

Frederik quickly turned up, a sharp chill running up his spine. There was no reason for Fjoltsson to be asking this, he "knew."

"Nørrebro." He said, first too subdued to be audible. "Nørrebro, I was there inspecting the air force base." He said louder and more confidently.

Fjoltsson continued looking him in the eye, almost as if it was an interrogation. "How did you get there?" He rested his elbows on the table, crossing his fingers as his arms came together in between.

"Helicopter." Frederik was now visibly restless. He sensed something was off.

"Interesting. Because I have access to the trackers that go over where every vehicle used by you or anyone in this household goes. And there was no helicopter that went to Nørrebro yesterday." Fjoltsson was now leaning into the table, towards the Crown Prince’s side, as Frederik backed up against the rear of the chair. "Where did you actually go?"

Frederik stammered for a moment, "I-Well, I just paid a visit to an old friend."

Fjoltsson almost laughed, "And why did you feel the need to cover it up? No one minds you visiting an old friend, do they?" The commander had his doubts as to who this "old friend" really was.

Frederik quickly came up with a justification, "I didn’t want Mother thinking I’m being irresponsible." He was somewhat impressed at his own ability to improvise. However, Fjoltsson continued pressing him.

"And where was Christina?"

"No idea." Frederik quickly replied, "She wasn’t with me." He was unsure of what she had told him, he silently prayed she hadn’t spilled anything.

Unfortunately for him, that was not the case.

"She told me she was with you. Why would she be visiting an old friend of yours with you?" Fjoltsson was almost grinning now, hoping to get exactly the answers he wanted.

Frederik was silent. "You’re a very bad liar, you’ve always been one." The commander chuckled. His expression became serious once again, "I won’t press further. I just hope whatever it is you’re hiding is nothing like what I think it is. You cannot be getting involved with women at your rank and future position, any whiff of this would threaten the very image your mother has worked so hard to cultivate of the Empire. You have a duty to the Lord, and having a consort that embodies such values and serves to strengthen the dynasty’s control over the sta-"

He was surprised to be cut off by the Crown prince. Frederik’s voice regained confidence now, seemingly out of nowhere, "Quite hypocritical for you to say, isn’t it?"

Fjoltsson was taken aback by the remark from Frederik. It was almost as if the atmosphere in the room suddenly did a 180 degree turn, with him on the back foot now. He didn’t reply, as Frederik continued, "Let’s not pretend no one knows about you and Mother. It’s rather ironic you would be the person lecturing me on this considering what you have been doing for the past… however long it’s been." He was referring to the rather open secret among the palace of Fjoltsson’s relationship with the Empress. Ever since the nullification of her marriage with the former Prince-Consort - the father of Lisette’s children - or possibly even before, Fjoltsson had been deeply intimate with Lisette. Many believed it was this that allowed him to ascend to becoming Commander of the Imperial Guard at such a surprising pace. His influence over the Empress was deeply resented by many, yet it was difficult to do anything about as no one dared challenge the Empress herself. Many foreign observers and those with insiders in the palace considered him to be the second most powerful person in the Empire for these reasons.

"Frederik, excuse me, how are you gullible enough to fall for these rumors? There is no way you actually believe this." Fjoltsson lost the inquisitive and interrogative air he had in his voice, it was almost as if it was a different person than from a minute ago.

Frederik now looked defiant. He put his arms forward on the table in an assertive posture, "Oh please. I’m her son, and it’s not just me, Christina, even Andre can very easily tell what is happening. And truth be told, I appreciate all that you have done for me, but you are in no morally superior position to judge me on this. Everyone knows, Heinrik. Everyone. They don’t dare speak of it, but they know. Have you been blind?"

Neither of them spoke for an uncomfortably long pause. The air in the room had become extremely awkward. At last, Fjoltsson broke the silence,"How could you speak to me like that? After all I’ve done for you, you come in here and spread ridiculous rumors about me to my face? Do you have no s-"

"I am not the one who is lecturing you, Heinrik, you are. You’re telling me what not to do while you and Mother have been doing the exact same thing for a while. Don’t deny it, you know everyone knows don’t you?" Frederik stood up from the chair now, dusting his coat off. "Anyways, it was nice talking to you, I have to actually do some work now, Mother’s returning in a while."

He moved towards the other exit leading out of the room before he was stopped by Fjoltsson, "Hold up a minute." Frederik turned his head in his place. "I hope you do realize the very real consequences of this if it comes out - not to the public but to your mother. It is just an affair right? Nothing more?" Fjoltsson hoped Frederik understood what he was implying. Simply having an affair on the side was not a big issue, it could be worked with. However, things escalating - prematurely - would cause immense issues, the carefully crafted image of a strong, Christian, moralistic monarchy could be shattered in an instant if such news ever got out. It would put the monarchy’s position at the centerpiece of Aureumterra’s society at jeopardy even, and that was something far too much for anyone to risk.

Frederik did not have any decipherable expression on his face at that. He pretended to ignore what he had heard, "See you soon."

He left the room.

[Aureumterra III]

Espegærd, Potens
To say Sofia was terrified would be an understatement. It had been nearly two months now since her birthday - the day where she and the Crown Prince had spent the night together. She didn’t think much of it since then, going back to her usual life. The two hadn’t met in person since, but she kept in touch with him over messaging on a regular basis. She had hoped he would have finally revealed the relationship to his mother by this point, but according to him, circumstances prevented him from doing so at that moment. Otherwise, there was nothing abnormal since then.

Or so she thought.

Neither of them said it, but both of them feared one thing. And Sofia’s fears were heightened considering that it had been over a month and a half without a period. She hadn’t told the Crown Prince about this, not until she got tested… but she was nonetheless terrified. It was difficult for her to focus on her normal life, go about her day without constantly thinking of the terrifying ramifications of this anxiety if it turned out to be true. Eventually, she had finally brought herself to do so… take a blood pregnancy test at last. She would have to find out at some point or another, it was best to do so before it was too late - when it was still possible to do something about it, handle the issue as it came one way or another.

It had been an agonizing week for her, taking the test and impatiently awaiting the results through stressful days. Eventually, the results had arrived in the mail at her family’s townhome in Espegærd, she made sure it would not be seen by anyone else in her family before she did - she was the only one who knew. Nobody was home in the afternoon, at least for now. She sat on a sofa in the living room, her hands somewhat shaky as she opened the envelope containing the results. She slowly unfolded it, taking her time - stalling even - as she carefully took the piece of paper within out and unfolded it. Her eyes scanned the top of the letter, Blood Pregnancy Test Results: Sofia Nielsen.

She unfolded the rest of the paper, her eyes widened at what she saw. She had been expecting it, she knew it was what all of the evidence pointed towards. However, she still retained a faint glimmer of hope until this moment that it would have all just been a delayed period, or some other health issue. It was all shattered right now. What she had been having nightmares about for weeks now was her reality. In that moment, she could not help but completely break down. Her face buried into her arms as she began uncontrollably sobbing, she didn’t know how long she was sobbing for, it was far too much for her to worry about.

Her deluge of tears was only stopped by the sound of the door opening. She looked up, her eyes still blood red from the crying, as she wiped the tears. Her body was still shaking, and by any means she looked extremely distraught. She was surprised to see her older sister, Clara, walk into the room.

"Sofia?!" She looked shocked to see the state her younger sister was in. The folded letter in her hand clearly gave the impression that something serious must have been revealed in it.

Sofia didn’t respond. "What’s wrong?!" Clara asked, quickly moving to the sofa and putting a hand on her sister’s shoulder.

It still took a moment for Sofia to respond, her voice was shaky and incredibly weak, but she managed to speak, "T-There’s no easy way to put this."

She unfolded the letter and showed it to her sister, who had the same shocked expression as she did.

"I’m pregnant." Both of them had read it, but verbally saying what was there almost made it even worse. An air of despair fell over the room, for Sofia especially.

Both of them were clearly in a state of shock for a moment, before Clara broke the silence, "Was it… him?" She knew who she was referring to, very few people knew about her sister’s affair. Such a matter was so sensitive, it had the potential to put all of their lives at risk.

Sofia simply nodded.

Clara got up, anxiously pacing around the room, "Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no no no no no no…"

She stopped and looked at Sofia, "Oh my fucking g*d, how the fuck could you be this careless? This isn’t just any fucking person, you know that." Sofia broke into a sob once again as Clara continued pacing, "You’ve now managed to put a massive target on not just your back, but all of us, our entire lives upside down now?! Do you understand how fucking terrified I am right now?"

Sofia looked up, continuing to sob and not saying a word. Clara did not stop, "Oh no, oh God… I warned you. I warned you about getting involved with any of this! You knew just as well that I did, before you were blinded by fantasies of some unattainable future."

Sofia finally managed to get a few words out in between sobs, "He said he was going to tell the Empress soon - he was serious!" She tried to compose herself, taking a deep breath and sitting straight on the couch, looking at her sister, still anxiously pacing.

"Of course that’s what he said! But has he done it? Has he?" She almost rhetorically asked her.

"…no"

"Exactly! I knew this was going to be what it was since the fucking start of this whole shitshow! You fucking idiot, did you really think this was going to amount to anything real? Did you really think you were fucking Cinderella, who would find her "prince charming" and be happy ever after?" Clara’s anxiety was replaced with a rage now, one that profoundly startled her sister.

"He was serious about it! He really did love me!" Sofia tried to bargain, not even with her sister, but against her own conscience.

"Sure, he may have. But here’s the cruel reality of this. He had nothing to lose. You had everything - every fucking thing - to lose from this. And I told you that, and you didn’t listen. And look now. Look what you have fucking done to yourself." She had a brief pause, "And every single person you know as well! You know how these people are. You can’t just fucking sleep with the Crown Prince and not expect everything to just be normal."

"But he had a plan, he was going to legitimize our family, we would have lived like royalt-" Sofia’s report was sharply cut off by another outburst from her sister.

"Are you fucking stupid?! Do you really, honestly think he seriously thought this was going anywhere? Why would he? He doesn’t need you. He can get as many fucking girls as he wants, Sofia. Do you really think that he saw you as anything other than just his temporary whore who would maybe if things go right become a permanent thing? Because it’s very fucking obvious what it was for him. He would not have hesitated, he doesn’t need to, he can do whatever the fuck he wants and get away with it. But you, not you. And now your own fucking fantasies have ruined all of our lives."

She abruptly stopped pacing, looking at her sister in the eye, "Wait. Does he know?"

"About?" Sofia almost confusedly asked.

"The fuck do you mean about? The fact that you’re pregnant?" Clara had a very faint glimmer of hope that any trouble from this could be avoided.

"I haven’t told him y-"

"THEN DON’T FUCKING TELL HIM!" Clara almost yelled so loud that her shriek could have been heard outside.

"How am I supposed to hide this forever?" Sofia was less panicked and more puzzled at this point as to what her sister was implying.

Clara on the other hand put her palm on her forehead, "Oh my - you really don’t get it do you?" Sofia didn’t say anything. "The only way I see out of this is just to -" she paused, "find a way to get an abortion. Let nobody other than you and me know this ever happened." Such a task was easier said than done in the Empire, where abortions were strictly illegal aside from provable cases of threats to the mother’s life. However, Potens was a city of vices beneath its charming exterior. People in certain parts of the city regularly found ways to obtain illicit things such as vapes, snus, and even prostitutes. Finding someone to perform an operation such as this would be difficult, but possible.

However, Sofia was not onboard with the suggestion, "You’re calling me stupid? Don’t you realize, I’m not just carrying a child, I’m carrying the child of the Crown Prince. If we do this and it gets out at all, it would be a fate even worse than what would happen if I just told him and found a way to work around that. It’s far more risky to even consider this, I’m out."

Clara was enraged, "Oh - what do you think is going to happen if you tell him? He’ll just accept it? Forget about him, what will happen when the Empress finds out all of this had been going on? I’ll tell you what, we’re all going to be fucking rotting away in a medieval dungeon or at the other end of a firing squad."

Sofia shook her head, "I know you don’t, but I still think he has faith in this. In fact this could encourage him to finally come clean, get the Empress to legitimize us, and finally get married so we don’t have to have a child born out of wedlock. It’s very possible!"

If the circumstances weren’t so dire, Clara would have burst out laughing. "Really… after all this you really fucking still stick to you fantasy of becoming a princess or whatever? If you want to tell him, fine. But I’m out. I don’t know you, mom, or dad now. I’m getting the fuck out of here before you all are at the mercy of the most powerful person in the country. You brought this upon yourself, I don’t have anything to do with it."

"Where will you go?!" Sofia exclaimed. She now stood up from the couch, looking toward the window.

"I don’t know. Anywhere away from here, where I can safely disassociate with you. Because you clearly don’t want to see reason. And I don’t want to be caught up in any of this for no fault of my own. You’re on your own now, all I can say is good luck and farewell."

Sofia gave a blank stare out of the window. She still had a small, if not faint, hope that things would go the way she envisioned. All she could do now was just hope and pray.

---

Author’s Note - I censor the word "God" in a context I would be uncomfortable using personally, but still want my characters to express themselves. Apologies if any confusion was caused