A/N: I find that the wesen element of the Grimm universe (a huge element, lmao) doesn't gel too well with the story I've written so far, especially since I took so many chapters to finally introduce it. I'm working on wiggling it in there, but there might be some growing pains.

Viktor sat in front of the fireplace, poring over his situation, drinking to try to forget said situation. Klara had gone to bed early, after an especially bad bout of morning sickness from what Ingrid told him when he asked about her whereabouts.

He heard soft footsteps behind him, he had hoped it might have been Klara's, but he wasn't so fortunate.

"Sir." The new head of the Verrat, Marcus Rispoli, said softly as he approached the crown prince. "Sir." He spoke again when he did not get a response. Viktor would let the disappointment sink in before receiving what would likely be unsatisfactory news.

"What?" Viktor slurred. He was clearly drunk, Rispoli could smell the liquor on his breath even with a few feet between them, even with the comforting scent of burning cedar wood filling the room.

"I have information about the plane." Rispoli started, noticing that the prince's interest piqued him out of his stupor. "Based on our contact in the Generale de L'Avation Civile, a plane matching its description was tracked leaving French airspace at 7:50 am, heading due west over the Atlantic. Seven hours later, it was picked up by Civil Aviation in Canada, still heading west.

"Where is it now?" Viktor asked as he rose from his seat.

"Civil Aviation lost contact somewhere over Manitoba, they were flying extremely low, staying out of controlled airspace."

"Those pilots know what they're doing. Why did no one stop them?"

"The influence of the resistance has spread farther than we thought."

"Well, they had to land somewhere."

"We're checking west of Manitoba, from Alaska to Mexico."

"The resistance could have taken them anywhere. Why go all this way?" Viktor paused, staring at the map on the tablet in front of him.

"Sir?" Rispoli asked.

"Maybe it's Adalind." Viktor thought out loud, his long fingers zooming into the map until getting a map of Portland's main roads and districts. "Maybe she wanted to go home."

"I will contact people we have in the Pacific Northwest, few and far between that they are with your cousin and his Grimm presiding in the area."

"And I suggest you do so immediately. Seeing as Adalind's mother has been murdered and she has incurred the wrath of a Grimm, I think we've just been made certain that Sean is the father rather than Eric."

"Sir." Rispoli gave a shallow bow before leaving the room.

The next morning, when Viktor was having breakfast with his wife, he decided to break the news to her.

"The royal child should be joining us soon." Viktor told his wife.

"That's wonderful, do you know if it's a boy or a girl?" Klara asked.

"No, not yet. There are also a few things I should update you on."

"Oh." Klara didn't like the sound of that.

"There is a chance that the child is not by Prince Eric, but by one of the King's bastards, Sean Renard, not that the king cares about legitimacy within his line at this point." Viktor started.

"Wait, so Adalind slept with both Eric and Sean?"

"Oh, and I'm not even done yet." A smug grin and a chuckle livening him up. "Not only did Adalind sleep with both Eric and Sean, but Sean also went to bed with Adalind's mother while he used to be in a relationship with Adalind, her mother has since been murdered by an unknown assailant."

"Oh my god, what?" Klara said with a gasp, clearly amused by the story that was better suited to a soap opera rather than a royal family. "And she went back to him?"

"My cousin is a prince, a bastard prince, but he still has his charms." Viktor told Klara.

"Having a baby with a man who cheated on you with your mother." Klara said to herself, shaking her head, the idea unfathomable to her.

"He has an uglier side to him, I shouldn't be surprised that his loyalty towards women is much the same as his loyalty to the family."

"So he's got a bad boy schtick?"

"Yes, it's rather ironic he's a police captain."

"Wait, he's a cop?" Klara was surprised. "Less ironic than you might think." Klara said, recalling all the things her ex, Johann, told her about the police.

"Yes, Portland police department, his relationship with the family is tentative."

"Before the recession, I went to college in Seattle, friends and I would drive to Portland sometimes for parties. I prefer Seattle, but Portland is cool." Klara felt a little stupid after saying it, like he'd care much.

"I haven't had much reason or opportunity to visit the west coast. All that rain, it seems dreary."

"There are a lot of evergreen trees, they stand out against the grey in a way that trees just don't in the midwest. The freeways are absolutely lined with trees and the cities have lots of trees too. Seattle and Portland have big coffee cultures for a reason... it's nice and cozy over there."

"You know, you make it sound quite appealing." Viktor lowered his voice. "Pouring rain, you parading around a cabin in nothing but a flannel with a cup of coffee in your hand."

"You'd like me in any environment wearing hardly anything." Klara lowered her voice too.

"More reason for me to travel the world with you."

The pair beamed at each other, Klara breaking eye contact with a blush and a giggle.

"You are so intense sometimes but so corny at others."

"Corny?"

"I don't mean it in a bad way, I like it." Klara said smiling. "But good god, I have a hard time keeping up with you, it's like riding a damn roller coaster."

"Oh hush now, you love it, even if you're too proud to admit it." He stood from his seat and kissed her on the forehead. As though he caught the time from his watch from the corner of his eye, he raised his wrist to make sure he was reading his watch correctly. "I'll see you in the evening." He gave her another kiss before leaving her.

Klara stared blankly at her breakfast, not even noticing Ingrid walking into the room.

Was Royal life always this lonely for women?

"Is it not to your liking, your highness?"

"No, it's fine, I'm just a little spaced out." Klara reassured Ingrid.

"Well, when you're finished, we have the baby's nursery to arrange."

"That's right." Klara perked up. "I'll be ready in a few minutes."

Klara spent the rest of the morning excitedly preparing for the arrival of the baby, readying a bedchamber for both Adalind and the baby, complete with a bed, a pretty white bassinet trimmed with fine lace, a changing table, a rocking chair, and a heavy wooden chest full of blankets, burp cloths, and baby toys.

"If possible, I'd like the paint color changed to something softer, the current color is..." Klara trailed off, wondering what time period would find that bright green to be a suitable color for a nursery. "The stone in the fireplace and the wood in here would look fine with powder blue or white walls."

"I was thinking the same thing, your highness." Ingrid said. "What would you think of a mural?"

"Is that possible?"

"Your highness, I could not stop you if you wanted to paint this room hot pink and neon green, though I would caution you against it and your husband would have harsh words."

"No, no mural, I think we should just decorate it, hang some portraits on the walls."

"As you wish."

Klara walked over and opened the wooden chest, seeing what all was in there.

"Oh this is darling." Klara said, holding up a soft white teddy bear perfect for a baby to snuggle up with, no sewn-in buttons they could choke on. She put it in the bassinet, fussing over getting the angle and placement perfect. "Oh! We need a rug in here so the baby will have something soft to play on."

Klara and Ingrid kept brainstorming, Klara so involved that she didn't notice Viktor enter the nursery as she decided she'd keep the lace curtain lining but change the solid curtains to white, gasping and jumping when she finally noticed him in the room.

"Viktor, you scared me half to death." Klara scolded.

"I wasn't busy." He lied. "I thought it might be nice to see what my wife is occupying her time with."

"Super secret and important royal duties I can't tell you about." Klara teased him.

"Well, I hope one of these super secret royal duties involves repainting the room."

"How did you know?"

"Because I'm under the assumption you're not secretly an 18th century time traveling aristocrat, this lurid green paint is a stain left by an era where vibrant paint colors were gauche displays of wealth."

"I really like this changing-table-cabinet-thing." Klara said ineloquently. "It has a lot of room for everything Adalind and her baby will need. Diapers, wipes, formula, oh, Ingrid, we don't have bottles or a bottle warmer, put that on the list."

"Your highness, it's customary to hire a wet nurse." Ingrid told Klara.

"A wet nurse?" Klara asked incredulously, her face soured with confusion bordering on disgust, she turned to her husband. "What century are you people living in?"

"The use of formula is as alien and offensive to the aristocracy as the employment of wet nurses is to you." Ingrid told Klara.

"I couldn't have put that better myself." Viktor said. "I won't be having any of that American chaff in my family."

"You know, not all babies can latch properly, not all mothers can produce enough, and buying other women's breastmilk is expensive and risky." Klara got defensive.

"It's a good thing I'm a prince who has access to experienced and trustworthy wet nurses." Viktor told Klara. "And you're the princess who gets to pick one out."

"Okay, I guess." Klara reluctantly relented, still entirely uncomfortable with the notion and giving her husband and incredulous look.

"I hope I didn't think you were going to formula feed our baby." Viktor said to her as if she told him she wanted to bottle feed her baby coca cola.

"I guess I assumed I'd give my baby formula because of work, but I guess that isn't an obstacle anymore. My sister breastfed all of my nieces and nephews and she's told me for years I should breastfeed."

"You might have been more academically gifted than your sister, but she seems wiser, you should listen to her." Viktor gave Klara a kiss on the cheek. Viktor's phone started vibrating in his pocket, it was Rispoli. "I have to take this. I'll hopefully see you this evening." He stole another kiss from her lips before striding out of the room, his presence soon replaced by a servant who came in with the paint color cards Ingrid texted her to retrieve.

"I have an assortment of white and powder blue, your highness." The woman said with a quick curtsey, handing the swatches to Klara.

Klara looked through them all, holding them up to the fireplace and the wood in the room.

"Eggshell, definitely eggshell." Klara decided.

The room was painted, making it look less garish and more soft and sophisticated. Klara was satisfied with her efforts, hoping Adalind would like it.

"I think a break is in order, excellent work, everyone." Klara said, earning grateful responses of thanks from the servants who did all the hard work of moving furniture in and out and painting the room.

The uncomfortable topic of wet nurses was brought back up in the evening when Ingrid handed Klara a tablet showing profiles of reputable wet nurses from across Europe.

Klara's eyes bulged out at the objectified nature of the women's profiles, including their height, weight, breast size, age, milk production in mL, credentials, and even references. The women were most often in their mid twenties to early thirties, but a handful of eighteen year old Eastern European girls made Klara's heart drop to the pit of her stomach. What had happened to those girls and why were they on something like this?

Klara paced restlessly, clicking on a few profiles, her discomfort making her click back to the database, she kept repeating this until she got to the bottom, electing to scroll back up a ways to revisit one of the profiles.

Ellie was a babyfaced, twenty-five year old English brunette with chocolate brown eyes, a long, slender throat that didn't quite match the rest of her. What set Ellie apart from the others were the glowing recommendations of the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge and the Prince and Princess of Norway. She wasn't ugly, but she seemed like someone who could easily fade into the background, and Klara wouldn't put it past the lithe beauties of the aristocracy to prefer wet nurses and nannies who wouldn't catch the eyes of their husbands.

"I'll hire Ellie, she seems to be as good a candidate as anyone on here." Klara told Ingrid, handing her the tablet before unceremoniously slumping down onto a chair, rubbing her temples.

"This is so fucking bizarre." Klara groaned. "I felt like I just looked at really weird porn and I feel gross."

"Wet nurses are paid handsomely for their services and discretion, should they see or hear anything the aristocracy would rather not get leaked to the media."

"I can understand why everyone is paid for their discretion, rich people get up to more insane shit than I previously imagined... and I guess I'm one of these insane rich people now." Klara shifted around in her chair in discomfort.

"I imagine you'll begin to understand why royals act the way they do when you get more settled into your role as crown princess." Ingrid told Klara. "As foreign as their actions might be to someone like you or I, I don't imagine they're without reason."

"If I ever understand, I'll make sure to clue you in." Klara said with a cynical laugh. "My ex was part of Die Grünen, we split when I started working for the family, he used to talk my ear off about the royal family and other 'elites' but I never believed him... I wonder what he'll think of me now that I'm royalty."

"You shouldn't value his opinion, the boy was a fool to leave you, but I suppose he was right to."

"Right to?"

"You would have gone to waste with a man like him. You are exactly where you need to be."

Klara didn't want to engage with Ingrid's royal apologia, she was too exhausted and too disgusted with herself and those around her to tolerate it anymore.

"If Viktor asks, I'm sleeping." Klara rose from her chair and left abruptly.

When she retired to her chambers, Klara changed into a warm nightgown and slid on a pair of wool socks, braiding her hair before almost immediately falling asleep, not even reading before bed like she usually would. The day's events had taken a strange and disturbing turn, she didn't want to think about it further.

Viktor didn't return to their chambers that night, he didn't sleep either, spending his time shared between pacing anxiously around his office and getting menial tasks done.

It was dawn before Viktor heard from anyone, he was alert with adrenaline, ready to be told something that would lead them closer to getting the royal child. There was a knock at the door.

"Come in." Viktor permitted.

Marcus Rispoli walked into the room, footsteps as quiet as ever, as they should be for an agent of the crown.

"Six dead Verrat, no Adalind, and no royal child." Viktor lamented. "I hope there's no more bad news."

"Sir, we just received confirmation. The plane landed on the Oregon coast." Rispoli revealed, his soft voice and the good news were like music to Viktor's ears.

"Then Adalind Schade has gone home, where she assumes she'll be safe. Who do we have in Portland?" Viktor asked, knowing that with Sean Renard lording over the area, royal influence would be next to nothing.

"Weston Steward, FBI. Shall I contact him?" Rispoli asked.

"Yes, right now." Viktor ordered, not caring for the difference in time zones.

Rispoli brought up the contact and made the call, Weston answered promptly, promptly enough to indicate he was working late that night rather than sleeping.

"Rispoli?" They could hear from the other line.

"Is this a good line?" Rispoli asked.

"Yes, but it's not a good time right now." The FBI agent spoke in hushed tones.

"Your problem." Rispoli told the agent after exchanging looks with the prince, seeing the impatience and intent in his eyes. "We've sent you two photos. Have you received them?"

"One second."

"The woman is Adalind Schade. The other is-"

"I know, Captain Sean Renard, Portland Police Department." Weston interrupted.

"We believe she's on her way to see him. She has a baby with her." Rispoli elaborated.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Confirm that she's there and they're together."

"Look, it can be a little tricky running surveillance on a police captain." Weston's apprehension undisguised in his voice, he knew that Sean Renard was not one to be trifled with even without the half royal-half zauberbiest blood.

"Then be a little tricky, Mr. Steward." Viktor snapped, his long, slender hands spanning the ancient wood of the table, standing up sharply from his chair, leaning over the phone as if to dominate it.

"Yes, sir." Weston backed down. "And what if they are there?" Viktor walked around his chair, catching himself about to start pacing again before he stopped himself, turning back towards the phone and resting his right hand on the back of his chair.

"We want that child, unharmed ."

"What about the others?" Weston asked.

"Do what you have to." Viktor sanctioned, it didn't matter to him if Renard and Schade were casualties in his mission, even if the king would mourn his bastard son.

"How much time do I have?"

"None. This has to be done... now." Rispoli told the agent, who stayed silent, likely taking in the fact that he was practically given a suicide mission.

"We're on our way." Viktor said, immediately leaving the room, eager to get to the airport as soon as possible.

Unfortunately for him, his wife, walking so vivaciously down the corridor, was in an inquisitive mood.

"You seem to be in a hurry." Klara pointed out.

"Yes, I will need to leave for a few days, I have business to attend to in America." Viktor tried to keep it brief, but it was in vain.

"Does this have anything to do with-"

"Yes, the royal child was found in Portland."

"How much time do I have to pack for myself and the baby?" Klara asked, trying to keep up with her speed walking husband and the Verrat leader in a pair of three and a half inch heels, Viktor might have been impressed if his mind hadn't been so engrossed in getting this mission over with.

"You're not coming, it's too dangerous."

"Viktor, were you planning on bringing a baby that might not be vaccinated or have her vitamin K shots on a plane across the Atlantic ocean? Without a carseat? Without diapers, burp cloths, baby wipes, a blanket, a binky, I literally only hired her wet nurse last night and she's in England, oh my god we need to go get her or else the baby will be hungry!" Klara was truly in awe at the men's stupidity. "What if she has a diaper rash? What if she has allergies? She could have an ear infection!"

"Klara, I think I underst-" Viktor tried getting a word in.

"What if you are attacked like Eric was? Hell, even just a drunk driver could put the baby in danger!" Viktor and Rispoli gave each other a knowing glance as she continued to reprimand them about their oversights. "What about Adalind? You didn't mention anything about-"

"Klara!" Viktor raised his voice, sighing in relief when she immediately stopped her rambling. "We will be waiting to return to Austria to medicate the child because of the nature of this engagement. The longer we are in Portland, and the more people I have to account for, the more likely we are to fail. Adalind has made up her mind on where her allegiances lie and has no intention on cooperating with the family. And, yes, I suppose we do need a carseat."

"You're kidnapping a baby." Klara said, crossing her arms, appalled at exactly what she was hearing. "Are you hearing yourself, you're actually kidnapping a baby."

"I don't have time for this, darling." Viktor growled, trying to walk around his lovely and very pissed off wife, but she simply side-stepped to block his path.

"You are so evil it's almost pathetic." Klara levied the insult. "But you also seem

to be completely out of your element when it comes to babies."

Klara immediately pulled out her phone and speed dialed Ingrid.

"Hello Ingrid, my husband's latest royal venture is kidnapping a baby, please have someone get a carseat so my husband doesn't kill the baby he's trying to kidnap." Klara listened to Ingrid, but was looking her husband dead in the eyes. "And they'll meet us at the airport? What about Ellie?" Viktor couldn't quite hear what Ingrid was saying. "Already booking her flight and she'll be in Portland before us. You're a lifesaver, I'll also be needing my things and the baby's packed for- you are incredible at this, I'll let you know if I need anything else." Klara hung up the phone.

Viktor might have remained angry if she didn't seem so... dignified. Here she was, his new bride, pregnant with his child, taking charge and dolling out orders to make sure he didn't sabotage his own mission, a swell of pride took over him.

"I can't believe I'm helping you kidnap a baby." Klara laughed to cope.

"Klara, the child belongs with the family, she'll be in the same danger out there that you would be."

"The mother seems more scared of you than the world outside these walls."

"I hope you don't have the misfortune of seeing what Adalind Schade actually is."

"Is?"

"She's wesen."

"So wesen and humans can have children."

"Yes, but mixed unions are rare, half wesen children are typically bastards."

"Like your cousin?" Klara asked quickly enough to throw off Viktor.

"Yes, he's half wesen."

"Those... hundjagers, they were so strong, how were humans able to get wesen under their control?"

"That is an incredibly long story that would be better taught by a tutor than by me, and one we do not have time for. If you're coming, I suggest you get dressed in something warm."

"Didn't think my first outing as crown princess would be to kidnap a baby." Klara said, really wanting to drive in the point, and the point being that she disapproved.

"Hexenbiests and zauberbiests are not suitable parents for a royal child, especially ones as clandestine as Schade and Renard."

"What the hell is a hexenbiest?" Klara asked.

"Do you think we can save this conversation for the plane, hmm?" Viktor asked. "You might even begin to comprehend why I have to do this and that I'm not the callous tyrant you seem to think I am."

"Yeah, sorry." Klara apologized sheepishly, unconsciously reaching for her husband's arm, looking down at her shoes as she walked uncomfortably fast to keep pace with him.

You should listen to him, he might make you into something worthwhile.

A/N: The fact Viktor didn't have a carseat for Adalind's baby in S3ep18 bothered me so much I am doing AU: European royal family isn't janky and brings carseat.