as the tsaritsa wills it
When the Tsaritsa learns of the last living child from the fallen nation, her eyes glimmer like the stars her kind capsized in fear of a revolution. She is a pretty little thing, with diamonds in her ears and on her throat, and her lilac hair spirals into ice-blue curls around her shoulders. Gripping the hands of her throne when she hears the news, she leans forward."I want him." She announces.
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The Tsaritsa wants what the Tsaritsa wants.