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"Why do you have to go, papa?" Phil sat down beside his youngest son. A fond chuckle escaped his lips as he ruffled the boy's hair. "I've got too many important people to talk to. They're all waiting on me, you know." Theseus sighed dramatically and slumped down onto the velvet couch. Not even the rich textures and intricate designs that decorated his bedchambers could console him. "I know," he mumbled. "I just wish you'd stay." He busied himself by tracing patterns in the shag rug underneath with his foot, eyes cast downwards. "Well..." Phil began. Theseus immediately perked up, his eyes wide and his back straight as if he were a soldier at attention. As he watched, Phil pulled a small object out of one of the many pockets of his formal suit. Theseus furrowed his brow as he tried to piece together what it was. Phil could hold it in the palm of his hand, it appeared to be made of metal, and intricate carvings covered the portion of its surface he could see. It was... "A music box?" Theseus asked, an eyebrow raised as Phil placed it in his hands. It was heavier than he had expected, but he easily adapted to the weight. Theseus turned it around in his hands and held it closer to his face to better inspect the engravings. Various couples, all drawn out with one line, stood in different poses as if frozen during a waltz. Just underneath the keyhole were letters— his initials. T.R. Theseus looked up at Phil, a question on the tip of his tongue. Phil gently smiled and returned a nod to the unspoken words. "It's yours. Oh, and before I forget..." He reached back into his pocket and pulled out a small golden key on a thin golden chain. Phil placed the key in Theseus's hand and gently guided it to the keyhole, then let go. Theseus turned the key and the music box opened. Two porcelain figures dressed in their best, most formal clothes slowly began to spin. A soft, soothing melody floated up through the air. "There," Phil said as he wrapped an arm around Theseus and pulled him close. "It can be our song. When you listen to it, think of me. That way, I'll always be with you, even when I can't be here physically." "It's beautiful, papa," Theseus muttered. He leaned his head on Phil's shoulder. Phil, in return, ran a hand through Theseus's hair and began to sing.
"Far away, long ago, glowing dim as an ember... Things my heart used to know, things it yearns to remember."
Safe and warm, Theseus closed his eyes and joined in the singing.
"And a song someone sings... Once upon a December."
The music box's song wound down as it closed again. Phil did not speak, nor did Theseus. The silence that filled the room was a comfortable one. Theseus could have fallen asleep there. A knock at the door roused him. "Phil..." The Empress's soft voice broke the silence. Kristin stood, already dressed in a ball gown made of the finest black silk available. The skirt barely hovered above the polished hardwood floor. A thin layer of lace trailed down from her bodice and became its own layer over the tulle of the dress. (Phil would have only the best for his lady, after all.) Kristin gently pressed a hand against the doorframe and smiled at the scene. "You really mustn't keep our child up so late, dear." "Ah, is it so late already?" Phil sat up and regarded Kristin with a fond smile. "I had gotten so caught up in avoiding my duties that I hardly noticed." Kristin sighed at her husband's remark and instead turned to face Theseus. "Have you at least said your prayers? It's best to live with the gods' approval in these troubled days." Theseus lowered his hands and held his music box in his lap as he met her gaze. "Not yet, mum. I'll say them right away, though." Kristin nodded her approval and Theseus beamed. Phil gave him a pat on the back and stood. "Sleep well, Theseus. Remember you are loved." Phil took Kristin's hand as he arrived at the door. The two stared into each other's eyes for a moment. (Had they done it for a moment longer, Theseus would have insisted they get a room.) "The people are expecting us," Kristin said quietly. "So they are," Phil replied. Theseus watched silently as his parents walked away. In the low light of the hallway, they looked almost like ghosts. Or perhaps characters from a storybook come to life. Theseus imagined that was how all of the people attending grand balls looked. He couldn't wait to see one for himself.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Theseus's sixteenth birthday arrived much too quickly, in his opinion. The years had passed by as if in an instant. But, as was tradition, a ball was thrown in celebration. The warm light of the ballroom shone down on all the guests. Theseus watched alongside various distant noble relatives as his parents swept across the dance floor. Much as they disliked these events, they still danced with all the grace expected of the emperor and empress. Phil led. His steps connected with the floor in perfect time with the orchestra. Kristin matched his movements perfectly, as if it was second nature to her. Despite everything, they smiled at each other, lost in the moment. Phil raised his hand and spun Kristin around. The skirt of her dress— white trimmed with gold for the occasion— fanned out around her and completed the spin a couple seconds after her. They ended the dance as the song ended, and the guests erupted in applause. Theseus now found himself in the midst of many people pairing up to join Phil and Kristin on the dance floor. A young woman in a jade green a-line dress that narrowly avoided the floor walked by. Theseus stopped her and asked for a dance. The two of them were not as graceful as Phil and Kristin, but they certainly weren't bad. Theseus's steps were not nearly as neat or on-beat as Phil's. The young woman had a natural talent for dancing, but couldn't possibly be compared to Kristin. Regardless, Theseus had a good time. He exchanged a joke or two with the young woman, who smiled and laughed and expressed her best wishes for his birthday before they parted. Somewhat dizzy and worn out from dancing, Theseus made his way off of the dance floor. He stood to the side and watched the dancers go by without him. There were his parents, in the midst of everything. They performed a new dance. Phil lifted Kristin up into an elegant little spin. Other dancers followed after them, creating a swirl of different fabrics that dazzled the eye. Theseus smiled to himself and looked across the dance floor. In the corner, he found his older brother, haphazardly following the dance with a man who, by his attire, was either very rich or very poor. Wilbur looked as if he'd had a few too many glasses of mead. His dance partner looked as if he could barely spell the word 'economy.' Wilbur spun the man as the music swelled, and in return the man dipped him. Theseus looked away as they kissed, though still winced as he heard the thud that came from Wilbur's dance partner dropping him. With a few strong notes, the song ended, and the orchestra struck up a softer one, much slower and more like background music than anything else. Phil and Kristin had finished their dance and approached Theseus. Kristin embraced him as soon as she got to him. "Happy birthday, my darling boy," she said as she pulled away. Theseus met her loving gaze with a smile of his own. "He's nearly a man, now." Phil placed a hand on Theseus's shoulder. Kristin gently ran a hand through Theseus's hair. Her hand came to rest on Theseus's other shoulder. "Theseus, who said you could grow up? I certainly didn't." Theseus laughed warmly and placed a hand over each of his parents'. "Come on, mum— it's not like you can make me stay young." "Oh, can't I?" Kristin challenged, a mischievous look in her eyes. "Theseus Romanov, by royal decree, you must stay this age forever." "Mum!" Theseus cried with no real anger behind the word. Kristin laughed softly as she removed her hand from his shoulder; Phil did likewise. The sound of approaching footsteps alerted them all to Wilbur's presence. He was a little disheveled, a couple of the medals decorating his chest were displaced from his fall, and his sash was unceremoniously loose. "Ah, there you are." Kristin took a couple steps towards him and straightened his sash with a little sigh. When she had gotten it sufficiently presentable again, she took a step back. Her smile returned. "Well, now that we're all here, how about a photo?" "I think that sounds lovely," Phil said as he guided Theseus towards the two. "Then what are we waiting for?" As they walked towards the photographer, Kristin straightened a bit of Theseus's hair that had fallen out of place. "I think we'll get to our dance after that," she mused. Theseus sat down in a chair in front of the camera. Phil and Kristin stood behind him, Kristin with her hand on the back of the chair. Wilbur took his place to Theseus's side, partially in front of Kristin. "We'll be having a talk later. Don't think I didn't notice that kiss," Kristin whispered to him. Wilbur paled. The photographer took the first photo. Some of the guards who had been stationed around the room joined in the photo, filling in behind Phil and Kristin and beside Theseus. The photographer took the second photo. "Come on!" Kristin waved to some of the nobles nearby. "This is a memorable occasion!" Some nobles Theseus recognized and more he didn't walked over and posed in the gaps left by his family and the guards. The photographer took the third photo. The camera flash was accompanied by an ear-splitting, rumbling, unfamiliar sound that seemed to shake the floor. Immediately, Theseus felt something was wrong. He tensed and looked towards one of the floor length windows in the room. The guards had already split up, each going in a separate direction to determine the cause of the noise. The room was silent. A kind of silence that made Theseus's hair stand on end. A kind of silence that let dread hang over all of them like the sword of Damocles. As if she could sense his discomfort, Kristin placed a hand on Theseus's shoulder and gently rubbed her thumb in little circles against him. Theseus leaned towards her a little. His eyes still followed the guards. All of a sudden, he was out of his chair. Kristin was holding him close as they all stood clumped together. The guards circled, facing outward as if to protect them from some great evil that could strike from anywhere. The word 'mum' had barely left his lips when the second explosion came. A rush of hot air came towards him, alongside the sound of shattering. Screams filled the air. Theseus's hands instantly went to his ears. "Protect the royal family!" Miniature explosions in short bursts echoed around him. Every time, they made the screams get worse. Theseus winced, make it stop, make it stop. "We've got them!" Theseus's vision blurred, but he could still see the bright orange blaze that began to spread, still hear the urgent, panicked voices around him. A violent force brought him to the floor. His head hurt, his body ached, his eyes burned— "Theseus!" Theseus desperately gasped for air, met with the acrid smell of smoke. The room was hot, too hot, he had to get out. The chain his key hung on cut into his neck— his key— his music box— his music box! He scrambled to his feet. His music box. He had to get his music box! He willed his legs to move forward, desperate for one more step, just one more, and one more after that. One step quickly became what felt like a thousand. Determination quickly became exhaustion. The world quickly faded to black.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
"We hear you, comrades! The revolution hears you!" Tubbo stood on his soapbox in the middle of the square. Dozens of people walked by. So far, not one of them had listened to him. He tried again. "Together we will forge a new land that will be the envy of all the world. The old St. Petersburg is now the people's Leningrad!" This earned him a look from a passerby, and not a kind one. Others, completely disinterested in his words, made a point of giving him a wide berth. Only one, very young-looking person flinched and scurried away as if they were actually scared. Tubbo sighed. At least there was that. He stepped down and picked up his soapbox. Tubbo tucked the box under his arm and scanned the area for somewhere else to go. Maybe, unlikely as it was, he would find people to listen. Something in the corner of his eye caught his attention. Tubbo turned, his brow furrowed, to find a larger-than-average group gathered around a couple of crates. Suspicious, he set the box down and approached. Casually, Tubbo brushed off his uniform and came to a stop behind the people in the outermost layer of the group. One voice, towards the center, spoke up. "They can call it Leningrad, but it'll always be Petersburg! It’s a new name, but they still haven’t fixed the old problems! I mean, really, when was the last time any of us got a good night of sleep? They’ve got us packed into houses like sardines." Tubbo narrowed his eyes. Whoever this speaker was, they had to know that this sort of talk was going to land them in jail. He pressed through the crowd, and it seemed that his mere presence was enough to disrupt the gathering. The people stopped talking and grew uncomfortable, some to the point of abandoning their counter-revolutionary positions in favor of their lives. Tubbo arrived at the center of the circle, right behind the dissenter, and leaned over their shoulder with a little 'ahem'. The speaker instantly froze. His pointed ears, black and white and inverses of each other, twitched once. They glanced back, one red eye making contact with Tubbo's. A beat. He pointed dramatically out into the street. "Hey what's that over there!" Tubbo was neither impressed nor distracted, and he did not look away. Without bothering to check, the counterrevolutionary stood and bolted off, their crowd now completely gone. Tubbo sighed and straightened up again. Perhaps, this one time, he could ignore it. Ranboo breathed a sigh of relief as he came to a stop against the cobblestones. They glanced back to make absolute sure they hadn't been chased. Thank gods, the Communist officer was nowhere to be seen. Ranboo leaned against the nearest wall, closed his eyes, and slowed his breath in an attempt to calm down. Footsteps passed Ranboo, accompanied by hushed voices conversing just loud enough for them to hear. "Did you hear? About Prince Theseus." Ranboo's ears perked up to subtly listen to the conversation. "Oh, yes; the soldiers firing at him were so drunk they missed the shot." Ranboo glanced over, but the pair had already turned the corner. He pushed off the wall and followed after them at a reasonable pace. The connecting street the speakers had turned onto was very crowded, with people huddling around small fires to ward off the cold. But over the sound of people talking, fire crackling, and footsteps crunching in the snow, another voice could be heard. "I hear the emperor survived as well. Something about a pocket watch..." Ranboo's gaze flitted over to the new voice. Three women carried crates down the street, beside him. The eldest of them, middle-aged with her hair tied back in a braid, had imparted this information to her younger cohorts. One of them shrugged the tail of her faded scarf over her shoulder, leaned towards the other and whispered, loud enough for Ranboo to hear. " And he's in Paris now." " Really? " Ranboo continued down the street. The gears in their head began to turn, an idea forming little by little. He took note of one more conversation amidst all the chatter on the street. "He's offering ten million for Theseus' safe return." Ten million? "Almost makes me want to convince him I'm Theseus..." Oh! Well, wasn't that a great idea. Sounded like the sort of thing only a couple of the greatest conmen in St. Petersburg could pull off. Ranboo slowly began to smile. "Ranboo!" Niki called as she spotted them. She ran over to him, her hat clutched a little closer to her head. Without stopping, Niki wrapped an arm around their neck and began to walk them down the street, her voice hushed. "They've closed another border— we should've gotten out of here while we still could!" Ranboo leaned down a little to be heard better. "I think we may still have a chance— and I have a plan." Niki raised an eyebrow. "I've been thinking about Prince Theseus." Niki groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Not you too, Ranboo!" "No, no, no— listen!" Ranboo held his hands up and turned the both of them onto a quieter side street. "Everyone's talking about it— even the emperor believes it's true. We just need to get someone to play the part, find a crafty way to escape, and we're set for life!" "... The emperor is offering a high reward..." Niki admitted after a moment of consideration. "And who better than us to pull it off?" Niki looked up to find Ranboo grinning at her. She sighed, but couldn't help the smile that spread on her face or the hope that spread in her mind. A block or so away, a truck backfired as it pulled away from a building. Tubbo would have thought nothing of it had there not been a scream. A young man, a little younger than him by the look of it, dropped his broom and collapsed to his knees in the middle of the street. Tubbo rushed over and crouched beside him, a hand on the man's shoulder. "It's okay, comrade." Tubbo offered the young man a hand up. "It was just a truck backfiring. Those days are over, neighbor against neighbor. There's nothing to be afraid of anymore." The young man raised his shaking hand to Tubbo's and stood. He brushed unkempt blond curls away from his face and looked up, his eyes still wide. Tubbo's expression softened. "You're shaking. There's a tea shop just steps from here, let me—" "Thank you," the young man said as he pulled his hand away from Tubbo's. He quickly bent down and picked up his broom again. Tubbo was a bit taken aback, but withdrew his hand and returned to a semi-formal position, his hands behind his back. "What's your hurry?" "I can't lose this job. They're not easy to come by." The young man paused and hurriedly added, "but thank you." In an instant, he was gone, down the street and back to sweeping. "... I'm here every day," Tubbo said awkwardly after him. Ranboo and Niki strolled through the back alleys where black marketeers sold off their wares. Both of them kept their heads down to try and keep attention off of themselves. Niki glanced around, eyes scanning for anything that could potentially be of use. "This painting, only a ruble!" One of the vendors called, holding up a painting of dubious quality. "It's Romanov, I swear!" Niki quickly looked away and made the mistake of meeting another seller's eyes. "Would you like to buy something that belonged to Count Martyn, comrade? His pajamas, perhaps?" To emphasize their point, the seller held up a neatly folded stack of green silk. "Er— no thanks," Niki said, then promptly hurried forward. Ranboo followed suit. Directly ahead of them, another vendor scoffed, likely at some sort of challenge, and spoke, loud enough for the whole street to hear him. "Well, I sourced all my merchandise from the palace! And look here— probably the most valuable thing I've got! Engraved silver, with a couple initials on it. 'T.R.' Even you can't deny that it must have been Theseus'." The words caught Ranboo's attention. They straightened up slightly, straining to see what this person really had. And, sure enough, he held a little box made of silver, tarnished somewhat from years of neglect, but if his claims were correct... Ranboo leaned down slightly to whisper to Niki. "That... Box that guy over there is selling. It could help seal the deal. Prove our fake Theseus is the real Theseus." Niki glanced at the box, then back at Ranboo, her eyes narrowed. "It's risky. We don't know if that was actually Theseus'. Besides, how are we going to afford it?" "I have an idea." Ranboo weaved through the crowd and up to the vendor with the music box. Smoothly, he leaned against the man's stand and glanced indifferently at the music box. "How much is that music box?" They asked with a nod towards the item in question. The seller put on a new, smug air as he replied. "Ah, the music box... It's genuine Romanov, you know. I could never part with it." Niki pushed through the crowd just in time to hear the final price. "Two cans of beans, comrade?" "Deal." Niki watched in surprise as Ranboo took the music box, his bag now two cans of beans lighter. They smiled a smile Niki knew all too well. The kind of smile that only emerged when a plan was going perfectly. "Niki, do you believe in fairy tales?" Niki was confused by the question, but replied nonetheless. "Once upon a time I did." Ranboo held the music box up for just a moment more, as if the sun would part the endless clouds just to shine down on it. Abruptly, he opened the satchel he carried and quickly stored it. They stood straighter and held themself with a new sort of self-assurance, a confident gleam in their eyes. "We're going to create a fairy tale the whole world will believe.”