It was mid-afternoon in the Germanic Kingdom when King Ludwig received the letter. The warm sunlight slanted in through the windows of Sanssouci Palace, illuminating the golden-wrought chair Ludwig was seated upon. In front of him on the table sat a china plate, empty save a few cake crumbs. He sipped his coffee peacefully, enjoying his afternoon coffee and cake.
"Hey, West!" A voice called, making him start. Coffee splattered onto the wooden table, luckily not ending up on Ludwig himself. He set down the cup and dabbed at the table with a napkin.
"What is it, bruder?" He asked, turning to see his older brother, Prince Gilbert. His red eyes had a sharp twinkle in them, standing out brilliantly against the white of his skin. His dark blue tunic was accented with gold trim, and his tall black boots clicked on the tiles of the palace.
"This letter came for you." He placed the letter on the table, beside Ludwig's plate. "From the Soviet Kingdom."
Ludwig picked it up thoughtfully, looking at the image of a closed fist on the wax seal. Gilbert pulled up a chair and leaned over his younger brother's shoulder as Ludwig opened the letter.
There was silence for a few minutes, as they both read the letter. Then Gilbert sat up. "Well, what do you think?"
"I'm not sure." Ludwig said. "King Ivan is... Unsettling, but I've heard his sisters are very beautiful. We've always been on alright terms with the Soviet Kingdom, but we're not indebted to them."
"Don't you think you should find someone?" Gilbert said, looking at Ludwig worriedly. "Because of... You know."
"I've moved on from that." Ludwig replied, though Gilbert still looked skeptical. "It's been a long time, bruder."
"Still. I say accept." Gilbert shrugs. "Meet them, and if worse comes to worst, then we can always decline. We have a far bigger army than they, so it's not worth it for them to attack us."
"You're right." Ludwig stood up, towering over his older brother. "Let's tell everyone. Castle Kremlin, in four days."
The brothers split, walking in different directions down the halls of Sanssouci Palace. Gilbert made his way out to the garden to find Elizaveta.
The gardens of Sanssouci Palace were beautiful, with a vineyard complemented by terraced gardens and a baroque garden. Orchards and greenhouses surrounded those, and the whole space was dotted with small temples and fountains. Gilbert found Elizaveta sitting on the steps of the Temple of Friendship.
"Eliza!" He called. She looked up, wind whipping through her sandy brown locks.
"Hey, Gil." She stood up, and despite the wind her dress hardly moved at all. The skirt was a pleasant shade of green that slowly faded to red, with a flowery pattern along the hem. The bodice was white with ruffles, and the three-quarter sleeves were white and puffy. Elizaveta picked up her skirt and slowly walked down the steps of the temple.
"We're visiting the Soviet Kingdom." He blurted.
"We are? Why?" Elizaveta replied. The two began to walk back up to the palace together.
"They want us to be their allies. We haven't accepted yet, but we're going to meet them. All of us."
"Even Lord Feliks?" asked Elizaveta. There was a spring in her step and a small smile on her face.
"I guess so." Gilbert shrugged.
"Are you bringing your boyfriend?"
"Birdie probably won't be allowed to go." Gilbert laughed lightly, giving Elizaveta a playful punch on his shoulder.
"Why not?" Elizaveta returned the punch. "I'll be taking Roderich."
"It would take too long for him to come over here. He is the King of the American Kingdom."
"One of them."
"Yeah."
The two reached the palace, and Gilbert held open the door for Elizaveta with a slight bow. She rolled her bright emerald eyes, but smiled nonetheless.
Castle Odescalchi loomed over the town surrounding it, magnificent and impressive. Its turrets seemed to scratch the undersides of the clouds, and its walls seemed impenetrable. Only a few residents of Rome had been inside the castle, and could attest to its beauty from the inside. The architecture was stunning, legends of selkies and sirens carved into walls. Halls were carpeted with exquisite rugs, ornate chandeliers hung from ceilings. The whole place had a perpetual aroma of perfume, and if one were to stand in some part of the castle, completely still, not even breathing, they would hear a harp playing faintly.
The King that inhabited the castle seemed just as lovely and elusive as his home. King Feliciano was a slender, almost childlike man. People close to him said he had a cheerful disposition, almost too cheerful. When he appeared to the public, his actions reflected this. Even his looks reflected his personality; his brown eyes, when he chose to open them, had a sparkle in them, and his auburn hair with one curl sticking out had a playful look to it.
It was almost comical, the way his brother was so different from him. Prince Lovino had dark brown hair and eyes, and a more olive skin tone. There was a rumour that they were only half-brothers, indeed, King Romulus did sleep around. But Lovino was much more different from his brother than just in looks. His personality was the most surly, irritated, angry, and generally rude one you could imagine. Swears slipped out of his mouth more often than actual words, and he seemed to have an unfounded dislike of anyone that wasn't his family. One wondered how his husband, Prince Antonio, put up with him.
If you were to enter the castle that sunny afternoon, walk through the halls carpeted with exquisite rugs, you would be privy to the private conversation the two brothers shared.
King Feliciano sighed and cupped his head in his hands.
"What is it, idiot fratello?" His brother, Prince Lovino, said sullenly. Lovino was the only person in the whole South European Kingdom who could refer to the King that way and not be punished.
"Nothing, nothing." Feliciano waved off his brother's half-hearted concerns. "I'm just remembering..."
The scowl faded from Lovino's face. He wasn't exactly a patient person, but with this subject, he always had been.
"You need a spouse." He said matter-of-factly.
"What?" Feliciano replied, bemused.
"Someone to help you get over that bastard." Lovino inspected some dirt underneath his fingernails. "It's been fucking years, Feliciano. Years. And yet you still have days where you mope around and sigh and say you're 'just remembering.' And then you say you've gotten over it. Bullshit."
"But I don't need a spouse. It just takes time." Feliciano mumbled.
"Time? How much longer do you need? Ten more years? A hundred more paintings?" Lovino softened his speech as he saw his younger brother flinch at the last sentence. "You've been unhappy for ten long years, fratello. Don't you think it's time to try and save yourself?"
"I still don't think-"
"I'm going to write a letter to Emma. It's about time you met her, anyway." Lovino muttered a few curses under his breath as he stood up to look for pen and ink.
"Shouldn't you just get Antonio to ask her in person?" Feliciano asked snidely.
"Shut your fucking mouth, Feliciano." Lovino snapped.
"Sorry." Feliciano replied automatically.
Lovino huffed. "If we do visit the North European Kingdom, Toni's staying here. I still don't trust him around her."
"You really should try to forgive and forget, you know." Feliciano tried.
"Hell no." Lovino snarled.
Feliciano sighed again, and then all was silent, except for the scratching of Lovino's pen against paper and the faint sound of a harp.
Saturday evening in the Soviet Kingdom. King Ludwig and his family were due to arrive any moment. Irina, Ivan, and Natalya were seated in the parlor.
Ivan was dressed in a long white coat. It was pristinely white, whiter than pure snow. The only spot of colour on the garment was the Soviet crest, red and blue against his chest. His hands, covered in black gloves, clutched his sceptre. It held sentimental value for Ivan, thus he often kept it locked up, afraid it could be stolen. Light from the lamps, wick turned low, reflected of its silver surface. He glanced nervously at each of his sisters.
Irina, the jewel of the evening, was dressed extravagantly. A long blue dress that trailed on the floor, encrusted with gems. Sleeves that hung almost to the hem of the dress. Bodice fitted as tight as possible, complemented by a corset tied in a rib-crushing manner. Neckline drooping, but not too much. A piece of shimmery fabric, trailing from her shoulderblades to the end of her train. A single silver locket, resting just below her collarbone. Heavy silver earrings, a blue topaz set into the centre of each. Hair braided tightly, piled on her head and held back with clips. Her red-painted lips smiled, but her blue eyes had a shard of worry.
Natalya was dressed simpler than her sister, but still fit for a special occasion. Her dress was a deep violet, with a puffy skirt supported by petticoats. Pink lace peeked out from the bottom, grazing the marble floor. A pattern of black vines crept up her skirt, curling out at her waist. A black ribbon was tied around her waist, looped in a stiff bow at her lower back. The neck of her dress was tied up with a bow overtop of white ruffles and pink lace. Her sleeves fell to the floor as well, and were trimmed with white. She wore black gloves like her brother, and in one hand she clutched her favourite knife. A white bow was fixed in her blonde hair.
"Nervous?" Ivan asked Irina, rather nervous himself.
"A bit, I suppose." She touched her locket, smile fading.
The siblings heard a knock on the door, and a servant's footsteps walking to open it. Ivan bit his lip, Irina took a deep breath, and Natalya rolled her eyes.
Then King Ludwig entered, followed by Prince Gilbert, Prince Vash, Princess Erika, Lady Elizaveta, Lord Roderich, and Lord Feliks.
The siblings stood up, though only Ivan stepped forward to shake Ludwig's hand. He was greeting them, to be sure, but the butterflies in Irina's stomach had just doubled in size, and she'd stopped listening.
King Ludwig was certainly very handsome. Tall, muscular, with a serious, stoic face and piercing cerulean eyes. He wore an olive green tunic with black trim and accents. As Irina watched him, he dipped his head at her and she forced herself to pay attention.
"Thank you for coming," She heard herself saying, "I'm sure you must be tired. Your bags are being taken to your rooms for the night. Supper will be served in an hour. Please sit." She gestured to the surrounding seating, and slowly, everyone took a seat.
"Thank you for having us." Ludwig told her courteously.
Their guests were certainly more well-off than them, and their dress showed it. The men's tunics were make out of silk, satin, and velvet, precious stones bordering the hems and necklines. Lady Elizaveta's dress was luxurious, flowy, and encrusted with jewels. Even Princess Erika's dress was much more beautiful than Natalya's, and the two were the same age and status. However, what the Soviet Kingdom lacked in money, they made up for in history. Castle Kremlin was decorated lavishly, most of the furniture and decor dating back several generations. The Germanics looked around them in awe for a few minutes, giving all three siblings a twinge of pride.
"I love your dress, Lady Elizaveta." Irina started off the conversation, a bit awkwardly.
"Oh, thank you." Elizaveta brushed down the front of it unconsciously. "Your dress is lovely, too."
"Thank you."
"Your home is beautiful." Commented Elizaveta. "Very classic."
"It's rather old, but that is what makes it home." Irina replied sweetly.
"Ours is almost completely new." Elizaveta said. Irina was sure she didn't mean to brag, but it came across that way. "King Fritz had it built as a gift for Queen Charlotte."
The conversation continued at a snail's pace for the rest of the hour, the two women mostly exchanging compliments with occasional interjections from Ivan or Roderich. Irina suppressed a sigh of relief when a servant came to inform them it was time for supper.
The three siblings led their guests from the parlour to the dining room. As they took their seats, the servants were putting out dishes.
The Soviets had laid out a beautiful feast for their guests, made up of traditional cuisine from their Kingdom. For soup, there was of course shchi with sweet apples, various meats, sauerkraut, fresh, cool cabbage, and lots of spices. The soup was topped with sour cream and dense rye bread. Then there was borscht, a delectable beet concoction, made thicker by the addition of cold cream. For the main course came steaming platters of pelmeni and pierogies, dumplings filled with either juicy meat or buttery potatoes, and topped with savoury fried onions. The studen was the perfect texture, and the carp sizzled as lemons were squeezed over the flesh. Rounding out the course were fluffy pancakes, served with hot butter. To drink they offered a type of juice called kvass, beer, and medovukha, a sweet alcoholic beverage. And for dessert there was solozhenick, a huge cake made of layers of pancakes and cherries, covered in light, airy egg whites and thick whipped cream. Sweet, hot tea was served along with the dessert.
After the meal, the party was moved to the ballroom, where they mostly stood around and talked. Roderich and Elizaveta were dancing, but they were the only ones.
"Princess Irina?"
Irina blinked, taking in the image of King Ludwig standing in front of her, head bowed, arm extended. His blond hair was combed back neatly, though a few strands were loose and hanging down. He looked at her through his lashes, not raising his head. "Would you like to dance?"
"You can call me Irunya," She replied, "And yes."
The two moved out to the middle of the floor and began to turn slowly to the music. Normally, dancing in the Soviet Kingdom was jumpy with big movements, and required quite a bit of space. However, out of courtesy for the Germanics, Ivan had chosen slower music, meaning to dance to it, one would have to be calm. Irina and Ludwig twirled gracefully on the floor for a few quiet moments.
"Are you always this nervous around women you don't know?" Irina asked suddenly.
Surprised, Ludwig let out a short, awkward laugh. "Yes, I suppose I am."
"You don't have to be." Irina replied breezily. "I don't bite." She winked.
Ludwig chortled again, though this time it sounded more natural. Irina grinned, slowly coating a small smile onto Ludwig's lips.
"So," Irina twirled, "Tell me a bit about yourself." She put both her hands on Ludwig's shoulders, making him put both his hands on her waist. "I've heard of you, but I don't know much about the actual man."
"Well, I'm twenty four." Ludwig started. "I like dogs. I have three. I can't stand messes or unorganized spaces. Half the cleaning that goes on at my house is done by me, not the servants." Irina laughed. "I try to be a good King. I don't know, I'm not very interesting."
"A man who likes dogs, is organized, and tries to be a good King? Not much to go on, is it?" Irina pretended to think. "Leaves that much more for me to find out by myself, then."
Irina smiled coyly at him.
Around the room, people were starting to warm up to each other and talk more. Gilbert had started a conversation with Ivan, and Vash and Roderich weren't even glaring at each other. However, Princess Natalya hadn't socialized the whole evening. At that moment, she was standing with her back to the wall, arms folded over her chest.
Natalya surveyed the room, unintentionally glowering at everyone.
It wasn't that she was sulking or she was bored or anything - in fact, she liked thinking to herself for hours on end. She was thinking that the evening was stupid and pointless. All this fuss over Toris, Eduard, and Raivis? When they split, she thought she was finally rid of them forever. Now it looked like they were going to be rejoining the Soviet Kingdom. Great.
Natalya's chain of thought was interrupted when a blur of green entered her vision. Upon focusing, she found it was Princess Erika, her forest green dress trailing behind her. Her blond hair was tied to the side with a matching green ribbon.
In no time, the girl was in front of her, and Natalya didn't know what to do. Should she say hello? Tell her to go away? Be polite, then shoo her away at the earliest possible moment?
"Hello!" Erika said cheerfully, sticking her hand out for a shake. "My name is Erika."
"Natalya." She replied, taking Erika's hand and shaking it lightly.
Erika surprised her by saying, "Boring party, huh?" She sighed. "Big brother Vash is always so protective of me, so I never really get to go to parties. When I do, they're always like this."
"I don't like parties. Or people, in general." Natalya shrugged. "There's two people I like in this world, and that's my siblings. Everyone else I tolerate."
"Cynicism doesn't suit you." Erika joked. "You're too young for it."
"I'm older than you." Natalya countered.
"We're the same age." Erika stated. "Unless, of course, you're older than nineteen."
"Oh," Murmured Natalya, "You look younger, somehow."
"Everyone tells me that." Erika fiddled with the end of her hair ribbon. "So, what do you like to do?"
"To do?"
"For fun. Or do they not have that here?" Erika flashed a cheeky smile.
"I sing. I keep a diary. I, uh..." Natalya paused, cocking her head. She seemed to be pondering something. Then, a genuine grin dawned on her face. "Can you keep a secret?"
"Of course."
Natalya leaned closer to Erika, lowering her voice. "I practise magic."
Erika took a step back, and for a moment Natalya feared she'd scared her away. But when she widened her sparkling eyes, Natalya knew she'd captured her attention.
"Really?" She gasped.
"Well," Natalya conceded, "I wouldn't call myself a witch. I mostly use amulets and communicate with ghosts. Sometimes I cast spells."
"What do you use it for?" Erika asked her.
"To bring good luck or get me things I want. The study of the occult is supposed to be a journey to become closer to the Goddess and the universe, while bringing forth the powers from within. But I'm not that dedicated."
"That sounds amazing." Erika's eyes were as big as saucers, the pupils ringed by a bright, intense green. For a moment, Natalya could have sworn she saw the glittering of a galaxy in those eyes, but then she blinked and it was gone.
Erika seemed different from the other girls who, admittedly, Natalya had little contact with. Natalya had some idea in her head of a giggling, blond-curled little girl, having tea and frolicking in a garden. Erika seemed... Multi-sided. She giggled and liked to joke, but Natalya could sense there was another version of the girl hiding within her.
It was with this in mind that she formed the question, "Do you want to see it in person?"
The look on Erika's face was one of ecstatic disbelief.
Natalya giggled. "Come on." She grasped Erika's hand and, very inconspicuously, sprinted across the room and out of the door.
The two ran as fast as they could in their dresses, shoes clicking on the tile floors and their laughter ringing through the halls. There was something deliciously forbidden about running down a quiet hallway in a fancy ballgown, and it was intoxicating. After tripping up a winding marble staircase, they reached the safety of Natalya's bedroom and tumbled inside. Slamming the door behind them, they collapsed on the floor.
It took a few minutes to recover from their laughing fit, but once they did, Erika felt awkward. She stood up, straightening her dress and coughing.
"You were going to show me your occult things?" She asked Natalya politely. Natalya, still on the floor, nodded.
Natalya stood up and walked over to the fireplace. "One of these bricks is loose." She explained, tapping each brick. "I keep all my supplies here so no one will find it." She pulled out a big brick and set it carefully on the floor. She then rolled up her sleeves and plunged her arm, elbow-deep, into the hole. When she pulled her arm back, she was holding an iron box.
Beckoning to Erika, she took the box to a small table and pulled two chairs up to it. Once Erika was seated next to her, Natalya opened the box.
Inside was a mess of knives, candles, pouches of herbs, bones of small animals, and various pendants. Erika lifted one out of the box, the acorn pendant swinging lazily.
"That's an acorn amulet." Natalya told her. "It attracts the opposite sex if you douse it in musk oil."
Erika placed it on the table with a quiet, "Interesting."
"My Athame," Natalya took out a double bladed knife made of stone, "More amulets, some candles, herbs, a spellbook. That's all." Natalya closed the lid of the now-empty box.
Erika picked up the book and started flipping through the pages. Natalya looked over her collection of amulets with a thoughtful gaze. Then she picked one up, light glinting off the miniature dragon's wings.
"Here." She told Erika, gesturing for her to bow her head. "A gift for you." Natalya slipped the amulet over the other girl's head. "It's the dragon amulet. Brings creativity, protection, and fertility."
"Thank you." Erika breathed, touching it lightly. Its golden wings were folded back as though they were about to unfurl and take off. Its eyes, tiny rubies, glowed in the sputtering candlelight.
"You're welcome." Natalya replied softly, touching the amulet that hung around her own neck, a small gold fairy.
After a beat of silence, Natalya began talking about each amulet and their powers. Erika listened with eager interest.
Downstairs, no one seemed to be missing them. Ivan and Roderich were talking, Irina and Ludwig were sitting together, Elizaveta was cracking jokes to Vash, and Feliks was in the foyer.
Feliks was bored.
Not that the party wasn't entertaining; Irina was very nice, and even Ivan wasn't bad once you got used to him. He somehow felt as if he didn't belong. All these pretty people, standing around and pretending to tolerate each other for the sake of reclaiming some land. It felt uncomfortably dishonest, like he was a puppeteer who could control the thoughts and feelings of the Soviets. It was surprisingly easy to get the siblings to say what he wanted them to; he was the guest, so they had to agree with him and treat him nicely. But it felt wrong, so he went into the foyer to be alone with his thoughts.
He was milling about, his mind wandering aimlessly, when there was a knock on the door.
Feliks looked around for a servant to call, but there was none in sight. He waited for a minute, biting his lip, as the knocking started again, louder and more impatient. He gave in with a sigh, and walked towards the big oaken door.
He opened the door.
On the doorstep stood a man of about his age and height. He had a kind face and soft green eyes. His longish brown hair was tied back, and his pale, spindly fingers fiddled with the hem of his tunic. Feliks figured he was also a Lord, as their clothes were about the same quality. Perhaps the man's was even a little worse. He looked nervous, and when he saw it was Feliks at the door, red began to colour his cheeks.
"King Ivan has guests?" He asked, voice wavering slightly. Feliks began to feel a little sorry for him.
"Yes, Lord Feliks Łukasiewicz of the Germanic Kingdom at your service." Feliks introduced himself gallantly.
Any trace of red that had been on the man's cheeks disappeared at the mention of the Germanic Kingdom. He looked white again, white as a ghost. Another pang of empathy pulled at Feliks' heart.
But then he coughed, straightening himself up to his full height. Confidence rushed into his voice as he said, "Tell King Ivan Toris Laurinaitis gives him this message." Toris cleared his throat. "With King Tino and King Berwald's help, we've now an army of 4,800. Don't try to reclaim your land. We're the Baltic Kingdom now."
Toris turned his back on Feliks, walking down the steps to his horse. Feliks stood there a moment, processing what he had just heard. Absentmindedly, he watched Toris mount his horse and ride away.
Toris didn't look back once.
Feliks took a few steps back and shut the door. He needed to give the message to Ivan.
He found Ivan in the ballroom, chatting with Elizaveta. After a quick apology to her, he pulled Ivan into the hall.
"What is it?" Ivan asked, worry creeping in at the edges of his voice.
"Toris Laurinaitis was just here." Feliks told him. He repeated the message Toris had given him.
Ivan's face was grim and sad at the same time. "Oh no." He murmured.
Feliks stood there, and when it began apparent Ivan wasn't planning on saying anything more, he hastily excused himself.
Walking back into the ballroom, Feliks saw everyone else was occupied. He resigned himself to standing alone and thinking.
He began to think about Toris, the Lord who'd split from the Soviet Kingdom. It certainly took a lot of bravery to do that, especially as he was clearly nervous when he came to the door. Coupled with the fact he could possibly be killed for what he did, he really was quite courageous.
Feliks had an idea. A very good idea. If it worked, anyway. If it didn't, he was in trouble. But he had a good feeling it would.
Ivan entered at that moment, and resumed his conversation with Elizaveta. Feliks scanned the ballroom, eyes coming to rest on Ludwig, sitting with Irina.
Sorry, Ludwig. He thought.
Ludwig seemed to sense someone watching him, and glanced over his shoulder. He saw no one, so he turned back to Irina.
She was still giggling from the story he'd just told, hanging her head to hid her smile. Her hair looked feathery soft, eyes twinkling, cheeks pink from alcohol and laughter. Somehow, her beauty reminded Ludwig of why he came, and his own smile faded.
"You know..." Ludwig said, his voice soft and faraway, yet stiff and unnatural. The strangeness of it caught Irina off guard and made her stop laughing. Ludwig's eyes were unfocused, and she could see he was clenching his jaw. "There's no political benefit for me if we do get married."
Irina let her arm fall listlessly to her side, feeling defeated.
"You're right. I'm just an offering to entice you to become our ally."
Ludwig dipped his head to acknowledge the correctness of her statement. "When I first got the invitation, I was hesitant, because your brother can be intimidating. However, I accepted because I'd heard of your beauty. After meeting you, though, I know there's more to you than how you look."
"You think so?" Irina asked dubiously. "I'm not very smart, as Natalya constantly reminds me, and people never look at my face when they speak to me. They always look at my chest." She pulled at the neckline of her dress self-consciously.
Ludwig lowered his voice. "I've been looking at your face the whole evening. More than that," He took her hand, "I've been looking into your eyes."
The two gazed at each other for a moment, as if daring each other to make the first move. Eventually, Ludwig started to lean closer. Though it was he who initiated it, it was Irina that closed the gap between them and kissed him. Neither closed their eyes until their lips touched, like they were under a spell. The kiss itself was short and hesitant, though when they pulled away, each was left wanting more.
"Well, uh," Ludwig said awkwardly, "It's rather late."
He stood up quickly, knocking his chair. It made a loud noise, drawing everyone's attention. Both Irina and Ludwig were blushing by now, though he more than her. While her cheeks were pleasantly pink, his were very red. It could be the alcohol, the company, or a combination of both.
Ludwig offered her a hand to stand up, and she took it, but quickly walked off to talk to her brother.
By this point, everyone was tired and a little bit tipsy. When Ivan suggested they retire for the night, everyone agreed readily. The guests were shown to spare bedrooms for the night, and the three siblings went to their own bedrooms.
Vash, Gilbert, Roderich and Elizaveta all went toolset right away. Feliks, Ludwig, Erika, Natalya, Irina and Ivan were all up for hours after they went to bed. Each had very different things on their minds to keep them up, but one thing was certain. If they chose to act on what they were thinking of, everyone's lives would be impacted.
A/N: Holy shit this chapter turned out to be longer than I thought it would be.
Sorry for the wait, I would have finished this sooner, but I've been really busy this past week.
Three side ships have been revealed! You'll have to wait a few chapters for the RoChu, but in the meantime you get Gerkraine, BelaLiech, and LietPol.
A few things I need to mention:
-Studen is jellied pork
-I love the idea of Natalya being able to use magic and I will definitely find a way to work that into the story a bit more
-Feliciano and Lovino will be getting another scene, but a while from now, as it isn't exactly important to the plot.
So what do you think will happen next? Will the Germanics accept and ally with the Soviets? Will the Soviets attack the Baltics even if they don't? And what's Feliks planning?
Reviews are appreciated very much. Speculations, constructive criticism, anything!