NOTES: excuse the misfire a few nights ago. it was terribly ... awful and was removed to be redone and expanded. as i get deeper in the plot, updates will take longer due to fact-checking and my newfound love for homestuck and hetalia crossovers.

also, please excuse my poor grasp of russian history. I am going over all my my historical changes to make sure SOME of it makes sense.

also, who is everyone's favorite grand duchess?

V

VIENNA, AUSTRIA-HUNGARY, OCTOBER 1921 TO FEBRUARY 1922

It was four months of bliss. Four months of comfort and peace and smiles when they woke up to each other.

But there were problems. Oh, yes, there were problems, particularly among the elite aristocratic families with marriage daughters who felt as if they were pushed to the side.

Some of the public was upset as well, but the majority was, surprisingly, not. These were modern times, and this was Vienna!

These were the people who had been able to accept Katharina Schratt, even love her for the support she provided to the previous emperor, and as long as their Emperor and Mr. Sharp weren't the burnout that Mary Vetsera and Prince Rudolf had been, they were content with their ruler being a little light in his loafers.

Alek had been reluctant to take Deryn out in public at first, fearing more for her safety rather than the 'shame it will bring' an adamant Volger had protested for.

Barlow, the opposite to Volger's nearly constant offering of opinions, had held her tongue on the entire matter, only shaking her head when Deryn asked for advice on something, anything. The lady boffin's withdrawal had bothered Deryn for a while, yet she had moved beyond that, because she was with Alek, and there was a nearly constant high of love and lust and everything-

Everything was perfect.

And they had gone out into the city. (He had wanted to take her into political meetings, but she had sensed a boundary and said no. ) Deyrn was able to see every inch of Vienna, every moment steeped in history and pastries and Alek.

They went to operas, which Deryn quickly developed a taste for, oddly enough. There was something about the drama and elegant worlds that were formed when actors got on stage that made her lean forward in her seat, so very eager to heard and understand. It amused Alek endlessly to see her wider-eyed, hands balled into fists in the fabric of her trousers.

Four months passed like days when one was enjoying each day so much.

VIENNA, AUSTRIA-HUNGARY (HOFBURG PALACE) FEBRUARY 12, 1922

She had known from the beginning that four months was the maximum they were planning to stay. Deryn had ignored the deadline and wished it away with all of her, knowing that she would have to go. If she stayed, it would be a form of treason.

Yet, that mark came and went.

Two weeks past it, Deryn walked her usual morning route through the palace halls she was rapidly becoming familiar with, only to hear noises from Dr. Barlow's room. The noises were not voices, despite how much time Volger and Barlow had been spending together lately. No, they were the crinkling and airy sounds of fabrics (layers of ruffles, silks, thick wool coats) being folded and packed.

In a hurry, Deryn crossed the last few feet between her and that doorway. She knocked, as a gentleman should before entering a ladies' quarters, only to have the door pulled open a few inches by a maid.

"Excuse me? Is Doctor Barlow there?"

A tired hand shooed the maid out of the way, and Barlow's own face came into view.

"Dylan. What is it?"

At least she had the courtesy to step back a bit and allow Deryn to enter. The room was a mess, dresses and shoes and all sorts of things scattered about. There were Barlow's suitcases on the bed, open and half packed (meanwhile, the maid stepped around them and resumed folding).

"Dr. Barlow, why are you leaving?"

It was amazing what this lifestyle had done to her. Her speech was more formal, she didn't use contractions. Her gestures were all elegant, such as the sweeping movement she made to address the clothes. Deryn Sharp had grown easily into this new role as she shed the habits of her life before this.

"Dylan. Haven't you been paying attention to the conversations? You are in one of the royal houses of Europe- surely you listen to the gossip?"

Hearing no answer, and seeing Deryn's blank stare, Barlow continued angrily. She expected more than this from her student.

"The Bolsheviks have issued an ultimatum to the British government. They need my ... assistance." Barlow sighed, running a hand through her hair.

"It may be that the tsar's dead. It would certainly explain their newfound confidence."

Deryn paused, mouth hanging open, all formal pretenses gone.

"You are being allowed to stay."

And suddenly, Deryn had all of Barlow's anger, the rage and the sharp words turned on her. She had seen it used on others, but never on her.

"Do you know what you've done, putting yourself publically in this situation with that boy? Out of all the things–"

Deryn's mentor paused, and shook her head.

"I cannot do anything about it now. Please, just... watch yourself. Take these."

Into Deryn's sweaty hand a bag was shoved.

"Be careful. I can't watch you anymore."

The pills. But how? Deryn must have been radiating confusion.

"I thought-"

"I lied to you. I thought it would make you careful around him. I was wrong."

As Deryn struggled to understand the boffin, Barlow made a gesture to the maid. The woman hustled forward, shooing a shell-shocked Deryn out,

"Please, sir, if you wouldn't mind leaving-"

Deryn was quickly moved out of the room. She was too shocked to do much about it, both from Barlow's lies and her own ignorance of events.

Alek. She would find Alek and ask him about this. He would be able to explain it.

She turned on her heel, spinning around to face the direction of the meeting rooms. That was the most likely place he'd be today. She vaguely remembered that he had said something about a meeting around lunchtime.

Again, Deryn moved through the halls. This time, she abandoned all pretenses of not panicking and simply ran. The slap of her new fine leather boots echoed as she passed painting after panting of Alek's ancestors. They gazed down on her with some form of benevolence. She chose to ignore it.

There it was- three doors to the right from that one door with the gear handle, there was a large set of doors. They were open, so she simply slipped in. The large room was packed, up to the observer railing.- Deryn had to squeeze and maneuver her way through the men to understand what was being said over the constant low murmur of voices.

Her eyes quickly swept the large table that Alek insisted on using to hold meetings. He was at the head of the table, palefaced in his Austrian field marshal's uniform. He had said he wore it because the people were accustomed to seeing their Emperors in it, but he never wore it when meeting solely with citizens of his empire, only the foreign dignitaries. Armed with that, Deryn looked over the crowd for the person who would prompt his outfit.

There. It was the Russian. And he looked far too content for Deryn's nerves to be at ease. She struggle to remember his name, but her mind was unable to grasp it right now. Switching her focus to what was being said was the next best option.

He spoke in a booming voice with few gestures.

" – and so, you agree, sir, to accept Olga Nikolaevna as your consort, in agreement with the terms of this treaty?"