"Even though she was the daughter of a poor baker, the girl dreamed of being a princess."

The Dutch royal family, along with their nation, went by car to a Christmas concert. A man in a van swept along the crowd who greeted them at the Opera House and tried to do the same to their representatives. The police got to stop him before he did, but they couldn't prevent the death of four people and seventeen injured.

"How beautiful would it be to wear a dress for the first time and dance all night long!, she said. Every night before going to bed she looked at the start through her window and made her wish."

The Christmas market of Riga went by with no problems until a man took a gun out of his coat and started shooting. He entrenched himself inside of a nearby cafe, taking thirty hostages. He killed one of them before the security forces got to subdue him. Two tourists died at the market. Seven injured by firearm.

"One day, the girl went out for a walk at the forest, when she found a handsome prince who hunted around."

In Vietnam, a group stopped a bus full of tourists from different countries, although most of them were Korean. They sprayed the vehicle with gas, set it on fire and stayed to watch as the people inside burned. Only three survivors.

"Good morning..."

I stared at the illustration for too long.

It was a boy with brown, short mane and glasses.

Shit...

Too late. The kids were watching me. The nurses were watching me. The photographers and journalists were recording and taking pictures.

"Sorry..." I whispered, wiping the tears and breathing deep to push them down, where they couldn't bother me. "G-Good morning, fair maiden, he said to her..."

"What's the matter?" a girl with two cute pigtails asked me.

I could have said nothing, but not even the children would have believed it.

"...It reminded me of someone I once loved..." I was forced to admit.

I gave those damned journalists sensational material, I know. I was seeing the headlines: 'The tears of the nation' or something like that...and yeah, I found an article called precisely like that. As for the children, they were too surprised by my reaction to be interested in the story. There was no way I could bring them back.

A chubby boy jumped out of his bed and hugged me. Sighing, I hugged him back. Children are the purest things ever. Many times I wish I had been able to have my own. Nations are not completely sterile, there are cases in which they can procreate; at least that's what they say. If Austria and I had tried, maybe...

Austria...

I did nothing but think about Austria. Austria. Austria. Austria. I couldn't get in my head that he was gone and would never return.

I wasn't the only one, actually. His own people were perplexed. Weeks had passed and they were still in shock. I saw people in the news doing vigils at night, playing instruments in front of his house, flags hanging from every balcony, tears. Whoever they asked, the response was the same: they loved their nation, they thought most people still supported him in spite of the expansion of the movement, he would stay alive as long as just one person believed in him, why did that happen, then? Now they showed him all their love, a hundred times more the one they showed him when he was alive, with the bitter hope that this way he might go back to life. But nobody saw him anywhere, nor a newborn with a divine air come from nowhere, who looked like him was spotted.

Having wanted Noémi's advice back when I met her, over thirty years ago, she would have taken me to the bar to drown my pain in alcohol and would have looked for a hunk for me. Being with the same man for fifty two years, she would have said to me, was torture, and more when that man was an inmortal Beethoven wannabee who 'walked around with a pole up his ass'. But she calmed down with the years, she got married herself against the principles of her youth and now, a lady close to retirement with three children and two grandchildren, preferred to be my shoulder to cry on. We met as always, at her house, after work, with some coffee cups.

"I can't believe he has fallen...I just can't believe it...I mean, there are nations who have a worst relationship with their people and they're still alive and he..."

Noémi's arms were my refuge that day. She saw my scene at the children's hospital but didn't judge me. She didn't tell me I was dumb for crying like that in front of the children for something so silly.

"Death is that whimsical, you know it..."

"Last time I talked to him was in a chat. I didn't approach him last summit...Look, it's right here. 'Be careful'. That's the last thing he wrote to me. He was the one who should have been careful..."

"Come on, let it all out, dear. That's it."

I didn't want to cry anymore. I wanted to hit the walls, find those who started the movement and break their heads. They didn't know Austria. They thought they knew about us and they had no idea, what we were like, what we felt. Austria had his issues, but was a good man. Gosh, I was so angry...

Death is that whimsical...

I have seen many people die. My bosses. In the battlefield. My friends. I have seen many types of death: too soon, too late, at the precise moment. It seemed it was my turn. It is one of these things you never think will happen to you until it happens. First was Sealand, who I just knew of sight. Then Austria, who I once called husband. The next had to be me.

I took the same determination as Poland and got rid of my bodyguards. I started to go out, to let myself be seen. I only asked for a gun. 21st century's are great, they have a scope I could only dream about centuries ago. I carried it with me all the time. In case someone wanted to hurt people around me. Noémi. Those I visited. People who just walked in the street. If they wanted to get me, I would be waiting for me.

Lord, I thought, have mercy on me.