Chapter Text
The tension in the Secret Meeting Room lingered. Aldo couldn't bring himself to look at anyone anymore. His gaze remained fixed on the tabletop, on the grain of the wood, on anything except the people around him. His family. Because if he looked up, he would have to see it.
The disappointment. The anger. The betrayal. Maybe even pity. And somehow pity felt worse than all the others.
For several seconds, nobody spoke, then Roier broke first, as usual. Always the first one to defend Aldo. Always the first one to scream at him, too.
"Is that...?" His voice sounded strange. Tight.
Carefully controlled.
"That day with Fenris..."
The entire room focused on him.
"When we killed Fenris..." Roier stared directly at Aldo. "We did it because the Federation told you to?"
The question hit harder than any accusation because it carried hurt within it. Because Roier wasn't asking as a soldier, or a prince, or even a brother. He was asking as someone who trusted him.
Aldo swallowed slowly. Then nodded.
Foolish's head snapped toward him.
"What?" he said.
The word came out dangerously sharp.
Aldo flinched.
Roier just shrugged.
"Pensé que lo habíamos hecho de chill", he said.
The absurdity of the sentence almost made Tina choke.
Juan stared at him in disbelief.
"¿Cómo es que matar a alguien es 'de chill'?"
"Depende del contexto," Roier muttered.
"It absolutely does not depend on the context," Juan shot back immediately.
Under any other circumstances the exchange might have eased the tension.
Tonight it only made it worse because nobody laughed. Nobody smiled.
The room remained tense. Broken.
Finally Vegetta spoke.
"Why?"
The single word silenced everyone.
Aldo slowly looked up.
His father's face had gone pale a while ago, but it was different now. It was not with fear, but with anger. The kind that sat behind narrowed eyes and measured every word.
"Why were you following Federation orders?"
Aldo felt smaller under that gaze than he had under Cucurucho's because this was his father. His king. The person whose approval had always mattered more than anyone else's.
"They griefed my castle."
The answer sounded pathetic the moment it left his mouth.
"They wouldn't let me finish rebuilding it."
Aldo forced himself to continue.
"They said they would keep interfering until I completed the mission."
The room remained quiet, too quiet. And suddenly Aldo heard how stupid it sounded.
Not because it hadn't mattered. His castle mattered. His work mattered. The things he built mattered.
But compared to this? Compared to Molly? Compared to what had happened? It felt insignificant.
Aldo lowered his head again, unable to bear the silence.
Vegetta didn't answer immediately and somehow that hurt more. Because if his father had shouted, Aldo could have defended himself. Could have argued. Could have justified it.
But Vegetta saying nothing left him alone with his own choices, alone with the consequences.
"They want to start a war?" Senpai asked quietly.
His fists were clenched so tightly his knuckles had gone white.
"No."
Everyone looked toward Vegetta. The King was staring at the tablet still sitting on the table.
"No," he repeated, "They want more than that. They want the island focused on something that isn't them."
Vegetta's voice had gone distant. Cold.
"They want everyone fighting each other." His jaw tightened. "So nobody notices they're kidnapping people again."
Again. The word hit the room like a physical blow. Everyone froze.
Because Vegetta hadn't been talking about Molly. Not only Molly.
The look on his face said otherwise. His eyes weren't seeing the conference room anymore. They were somewhere else. Somewhen else.
Roier recognized it immediately, because his own chest tightened at the same moment.
Memories.
The Federation.
Taking children.
Experimenting.
Separating families.
Breaking people.
The cycle repeating itself over and over again.
Most of the younger members of the North didn't know much about that history.
Vegetta never talked about it. Neither did Foolish. And Roier...
Roier talked about it only slightly more. Enough for them to know there had been another island. Another family. Another life.
Enough for them to know there had been a little girl. Leonarda.
A name that slipped into conversations every now and then. A name spoken carefully, tenderly. Like touching a scar.
A name that made Vegetta's expression change every single time.
Nobody except a few people in the room had ever met her. But they all knew she mattered. They all knew she had died. And they all knew the Federation had something to do with it. That was enough.
The North's hatred of the Federation had never been a secret. Not if you'd spent enough time around their King. Not if you'd watched Foolish tense whenever Cucurucho appeared. Not if you'd seen Roier's smile vanish whenever the subject came up.
They had lived through this before. Maybe not exactly this. But close enough. Close enough to recognize it. And yet...
Aldo had listened to them. Worked for them. Taken their orders. Even if he'd done it because he felt cornered, even if he'd convinced himself he had no choice. He had still done it.
The one thing his father would never approve of. The one thing Roier would never support him with. The one thing Foolish hated more than almost anything else.
Trusting the Federation. Thinking he could control the situation. Thinking he could work with monsters and walk away untouched.
Aldo felt sick, because now Molly was paying the price. Not him. Not the Federation. Molly was alone in some white room, injured, scared and thousands of blocks away from home.
The realization twisted like a knife in his chest.
Then Foolish spoke quietly. Almost too quietly.
"When did they give you the mission?"
The question made Aldo look up.
Foolish wasn't angry, and that somehow felt worse, because Foolish looked heartbroken. Like he was trying to understand. Trying to find the moment everything had gone wrong.
Aldo hesitated.
"...Weeks ago."
The revelation hung over the room like a storm cloud.
Weeks. The Federation had been manipulating Aldo for weeks. Threatening him, using him, pushing him toward a war, and none of them had known.
Aldo stood there feeling smaller by the second.
The silence wasn't filled with accusations, which almost made it unbearable.
Because if they were angry, he could accept it. If they yelled at him, he could take it. If they blamed him… God, maybe he deserved that. But they weren't.
They were trying to understand, to help, and that only made the guilt worse.
Finally, Vegetta opened his eyes.
"When were you planning on telling us?"
The question was gentle.
Aldo looked away immediately.
"I wasn't."
The honesty shocked even him.
Several heads lifted.
"You weren't?" Tina repeated.
Aldo shook his head.
"No."
His voice was barely above a whisper.
"I thought I could fix it."
A bitter, humorless laugh escaped him.
"I thought if I completed the mission quickly, everything would go away."
The words sounded ridiculous now. Childish. Naive. But at the time… at the time it had seemed possible.
Complete the task. Get the Federation off his back. Finish rebuilding his castle. Protect the North.
Nobody would ever need to know. Simple. Except it hadn't been simple.
The Federation never played fair. Never had. Never would.
Foolish stared at him for several seconds. Not speaking, nor looking angry. Just... tired.
Heartbroken.
"Aldo."
The prince looked up reluctantly.
Foolish's expression twisted, not with rage but with recognition.
"You screwed up."
The bluntness made several people blink.
"A lot."
Aldo flinched.
"But this?" He pointed toward the tablet. "That isn't all on you."
Silence.
"You should've told us." His voice hardened. "You should've trusted us."
Then he glanced toward the black screen. Toward the evidence of what the Federation had done.
"But Molly is in that room because they put her there. They made that choice."
For the first time all night, Foolish's anger showed. Cold. Focused. Terrifying.
"They don't get to take someone's kid and convince us it's our fault."
Aldo stared at Foolish for a moment. The words didn't make the guilt disappear. He wasn't sure anything could. But for the first time since Cucurucho had shown him the video, someone had looked at the situation and blamed the Federation before blaming him. Someone had looked at his failure and seen the trap behind it.
The realization left him feeling strangely unsteady.
Then Roier spoke. "Of course."
Everyone looked toward him, but Roier didn't seem to notice. He was staring at the tabletop now. Jaw clenched.
"That's exactly how they do it."
As Roier continued talking, Aldo felt something in his chest tighten again. Because every word sounded less like an observation and more like a memory.
"They start small." A hollow smile appeared briefly. "They ask for one thing, then another, and another."
His fingers tightened against the edge of the table. The smile disappeared.
"Until suddenly you're trapped."
The room fell silent again. Roier finally looked up.
"I know."
Aldo froze. For the first time all night, he realized this wasn't just Foolish trying to make him feel better.
Roier knew. Maybe not this exact situation. Maybe not the same choices. But he recognized the trap immediately. Recognized the isolation, the pressure. The way the Federation slowly convinced people they had no options left. And suddenly Aldo wasn't looking at someone judging him.
He was looking at someone who had survived the same kind of nightmare.
Vegetta looked away.
The old wounds were opening again.
The old island.
The old experiments.
The old losses.
Always the same enemy. Always the same methods.
"They showed you the video for a reason."
Juan's voice broke through the silence.
Everyone turned toward him. He looked pale but focused, thinking. The cards he'd been carrying earlier were still sitting forgotten beside him.
"They wanted you to tell us."
The realization spread through the room immediately.
Aldo frowned.
"What?"
Juan leaned forward.
"If they only wanted compliance, they could have threatened you privately." His eyes narrowed. "They showed you Molly, they gave you evidence, they let you leave."
Nobody interrupted because he was right. The Federation wasn't stupid. If they wanted to keep Molly hidden, they could have. If they wanted to isolate Aldo, they could have. Instead, they'd practically handed him proof.
"They wanted this meeting." Juan finished.
Senpai's expression darkened immediately, "...Mierda."
Juan nodded.
"They want us scared, they want us angry. They want us talking about the Regime."
Vegetta's jaw tightened because that was exactly what he'd said earlier. The Federation wanted attention elsewhere. Away from themselves. Toward another enemy, another war, another conflict, and they knew exactly how to make that happen.
-Take Molly. Give Aldo a deadline. Force the North to react.-
Suddenly every path led toward violence. Toward retaliation. Toward blood.
Exactly where the Federation wanted them.
"They gave me until Monday."
The words escaped Aldo before he could stop them.
Vegetta looked at him sharply, "What?"
Aldo swallowed, "Cucurucho said I have until Monday."
Nobody moved.
Nobody even seemed to breathe.
"And if you don't?" Foolish asked.
Aldo wished he hadn't. He wished nobody had, because saying it aloud made it real. Then forced the words out anyway.
"He said..." His voice broke. "...he said Molly won't return to the island."
Foolish lowered his eyes.
Alondra covered her mouth.
Tina looked horrified.
Juan's face drained of color further.
Senpai's fists clenched so hard the wood beneath them creaked.
Roier closed his eyes.
And Vegetta… Vegetta didn't move, but something changed. Something cold, ancient, dangerous.
The King of the North slowly stood from his chair. The room immediately fell even quieter.
Aldo's stomach dropped because he knew that look. Everyone did.
Vegetta wasn't emotional anymore. Wasn't scared anymore. Wasn't grieving anymore. At least not visibly. The fear had transformed into something else. Purpose.
The same expression he wore before battles. The same expression he wore when defending his family. The same expression he wore whenever someone threatened one of his children.
When he finally spoke, his voice was terrifyingly calm.
"No."
Aldo blinked. Vegetta looked directly at him.
"No." He repeated it more strongly this time. "Your sister is coming home."
The certainty in his voice made everyone look up. His eyes were hard now, focused, determined.
"They took one of my children." Every word landed like stone. "They don't get to keep her."
A dangerous silence followed.
Then Foolish stood too, without hesitation, without needing to think. Standing beside Vegetta exactly like he always did.
"Agreed. We're bringing her home."
Roier stood next. Then Sempai. Then Juan. Then Tina. Even Alondra.
One after another.
Aldo looked around the room, confused and overwhelmed.
Nobody was yelling at him. Nobody was blaming him.
Instead they were standing.
Choosing Molly.
Choosing family.
Choosing him.
Vegetta stepped around the table, crossing the distance between them.
Aldo couldn't look up, not until a hand landed firmly on his shoulder. His father's hand. Steady. Warm. Real.
Aldo finally raised his eyes. Vegetta was looking directly at him. Not with disappointment. Not with anger. With concern. With determination. With the kind of certainty only a parent could have.
"You made mistakes."
The words hit hard because they were true.
"But listen to me carefully."
Aldo felt his throat tighten.
Vegetta squeezed his shoulder once.
"You are not fixing this alone anymore."
Aldo stood there under his father’s gaze, unable to comprehend what he was feeling now. The crushing weight that had been sitting on his chest eased slightly. Not disappeared. But eased.
The room remained standing for a few moments, united by something stronger than fear, then reality settled back in because determination was one thing, actually getting Molly back was another.
Vegetta withdrew his hand from Aldo's shoulder and slowly returned to the head of the table. The movement alone was enough to signal a shift.
The family meeting was over. The war council had begun.
"Sit."
Everyone obeyed immediately. The tension in the room changed shape. No longer panic, now it was focus, planning.
The King didn't sit. Instead, he leaned forward, both hands resting against the wood.
"We need to know everything."
The words immediately shifted the mood. He looked directly at Aldo.
"When did they first approach you? How often? What exactly did they ask for? Everything."
Aldo nodded slowly and began talking.
For the first time that night, he felt something inside him crack. Not from fear. Not from guilt. From relief.
Because for hours he'd been carrying this alone. The mission. The threats. The deadline. Molly. All of it. And now suddenly he wasn't. For the first time since seeing that video, Aldo felt like he could breathe again, just a little.
Not because the situation had improved.
Not because Molly was safe.
But because his family knew, and the North had always been strongest when they stood together.
And somewhere far away, in a sterile white room illuminated by artificial lights, Molly sat curled against the edge of a narrow bed.
Waiting.
Not knowing that an entire family was already trying to bring her home.
Not knowing that her father had gone frighteningly quiet.
Not knowing that her twin blamed himself for everything.
Not knowing that the North was already moving.
The Federation thought they had taken one girl hostage.
What they had actually done was awaken the full attention of the North.
And that had never ended well for anyone.