Their life, during the centuries that followed, was turbulent. Constantine had given back all the land to his siblings and the Italy twins. Bulgaria had waged war with him, once, when Constantine’s Emperor had refused to let Bulgaria’s children become independent. And another during Antonius’s Iconoclast movement.

That movement had led to Antonius’s death and Beshter, now named Michael’s, descend into madness. Dracon had moved from Constantinople and into Veliko Tarnovo. The newest capital of Bulgaria.

Then, the now named Nikola, after he took up the Christian faith, got worrying news. Francis and Ludwig were marching with the rest of the western nations, demanding a safe passage through his lands.

However, Nikola’s spies had come with a worrying rumor. It was not the holy lands that the now teenagers wanted to fight in, but Constantinople. So, Bulgaria was staring at them all, assembled before him, with Vatican at their head, a nation that came to life with the Catholic faith, and was considering what to do.

Constantine was entering a period of unrest. Michael had to, at one point, play the part for Constantine’s Emperor. But the peaceful times that had come from that hadn’t lasted.

“Uncle Kyla,” began South Italy.

“Nikola, I am a Christian. Same as you, Romano,” while it had been needed for Nikola to change his name, it had not been so for the nations before him. He remembered them as young children, then stilled his heart.

The same way he had done so when Ivan had attacked him and he and Byzantine had chased their son back to his lands. The same way when he had refused help to his children for dealing with the Golden Horde.

“Uncle Nikola. We need to go through to the sacred lands,” Nikola sighed.

“Is that where you are heading? Or, is it, Constantinople?” The children before him tensed, and he felt anger rise in him.

“Tine and I raised you all! We fed you, clothed you! What is your excuse for attacking? And if you answer that it is the schism between our churches, so help you!” The guards moved closer, and Ludwig reached out for his sword. Gilbert placed a hand over his.

“Brother, you have to know that Tine’s Michael wants all the old Roman holdings and Germania’s too. Father is dead, and it lands on Ludwig and I to protect our holdings. Tine has it coming,” Nikola glared at the albino, who was taller than him now, and waved at the guards.

“A couple of nights and days in the dungeons will make you all reconsider,” said Nikola, and the teenagers were taken away. Nikola turned to his Tsar Kaloian.

“You don’t approve?” He said to the man, who was glaring.

“Byzantine has been cutting us off when it comes to trade deals. Don’t forget that Basil’s grab for your throne…”

“I know,” Nikola remembered how he had to assassinate the man. “But that is over with. Constantine has been effected by Michael’s madness, but he loves me and I him. We will protect him, Kaloian. And this is final.”

His Tsar, the brothers of whom died fighting the Golden Horde, stormed out of the feasting hall and Nikola was left alone.

He had given up so much for his Tine. His name, his land, his siblings. And Tine was going to demand more sacrifices from him. That much, Nikola knew. He looked at the map.

Because of the machinations of vampires, Tine was left with a depleted royal fleet. That simply wouldn’t do. The crusaders couldn’t be allowed to cross the Golden Horn. It will be a disaster.

Nikola went to his room and began writing a calling of the tropes. He needed to evacuate his people in the castles. He had to get the last harvest in before the crusaders got wind of what he had done.

The crusaders began to harass Bulgaria on the next day, which made everything harder. But, his cavalry knew a trick. In the following battle, Kaloian earned the name the Roman killer and high praise.

When Nikola went back to his home in Veliko Tarnovo, Constantine was lounging on his bed.

“Niki, I could have handled it,” said his husband softly. For once, his eyes did not look as hazy as they normally did. Nikola was glad.

“A day may come when I am no longer there to protect you, but it won’t be today,” Constantine sighed and patted the empty space next to him.

“Why don’t you want for us to become one?” Same old question. Nikola remained silent, rather than to give the same old answer. He laid on the bed and embraced his Tine. “You won’t assimilate me. Our names can be together in a dash. I’ll even recognize you as an empire.”

“The world recognizes me as one. Whatever you do or not just hurts me and has little consequence. How is Beshter?” Constantine lowered his head to rest it on Nikola’s chest.

“Not well. He thinks that he is the Archangel Michael and his Lasombra lickspittles are egging him on,” there would have been a time when this fall from grace would have made Nikola smile. But he only felt pity for his once lover.

“Perhaps if Dracon moves back to Constantinople they could stabilize each other,” Dracon lived as a hermit and refused to do anything but drink and sleep. Nikola was feeling more torn about him than Michael.

“I should have stopped Antonius. And he should have known better than to use religion as something to put a wedge between Dracon and Michael,” Nikola nodded. Constantine should have paid more attention to his teachers. For all they were dear to him, he had left them to their destructive vices.

“What are you going to do with the leaders of the crusaders?” Nikola had wondered the same, for a time. They were men grown and had children. The Westerners wouldn’t be left without heads of state.

“I will throw them off a tower,” said Nikola, kissing Constantine’s curls. “And I will make sure that this never happens again.”