Act III

[lolitics_meme]

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An Unholy Matrimony 4/7

[anonymous]

Five Years Later

Taking tea on the roof of the new Roman Headquarters was even more enjoyable than George had anticipated. There were no pigeons to disturb them (the nasty things had been shot, naturally); the weather was perfect, upliftingly warm without being stiflingly hot. George still insisted on wearing one of his royal dresses, but had gone for a relatively simple white-and-pink affair, with a matching parasol to keep the sun off his increasingly delicate skin and high stockings lined with white lace. A collar ringed his neck, the attatched leash tied in a bow to the arm of Peter's chair. George beamed with pride over their city, reveling privately in the knowledge that it was as a toy in his hands, the souls inhabiting it mere dolls to be played with.

Peter, meanwhile, was not in such a carefree mood. Legs crossed, he sipped his green tea thoughtfully and gazed out at Rome. The river ran nearby, the magnificent new bridge gleaming in the sun while underneath it the water rippled a hundred shades of green and gold. The sky was clear and empty, the noise of the city barely carrying up here to the top of the Headquarters, which towered above every other building. The scene was as beautiful as he could ever have wished, but in his mind a dark cloud was starting to overshadow his paradise.

At the time of the Takeover, the old rulers had simply been banished. Peter had quickly realised the need to do away with them for good, so within a few months every politician of the old order had been tracked down and discreetly murdered in order to insure lasting peace and lower the chances of a successful rebellion. All, that is, except for one.

Rumours were spreading in Europe. His informants in Holland told disturbing stories of a secret resistance, led by a mysterious figure from the old order...

"Peter? Is everything well?" asked George, concern in his voice. "Have a custard cream."

"No, thank you, dearest," Peter shrugged, quickly pouring himself more tea. "I would hate to deprive you of your favourite snack. By the way -" Peter paused, hesitant to mention the rumours to his queen, who was somewhat prone to hysterical overreactions these days.

"What?" asked George, perplexed.

"Oh... nothing, darling," replied Peter, the worried crease vanishing from between his eyebrows. "I'm just being silly." He leant back and closed his eyes, letting the sun bathe his face in pleasant warmth. Soon - very soon - he would have to deal with those ridiculous rumours. A mysterious figure from the old order... Well, anyone who dared challenge the supremacy of the Prince of Darkness soon found that all the courage and noble causes in the world could provide no protection from an old-fashioned bullet through the head.