Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

July 21, 1977

Paris, France

She had no name. She discarded that when she decided to become a spy. All she had was a codename, Vixen, a moniker her enemies had given her, “The Demoness of Siberia”, and an ever-changing series of disguises and fabricated identities. She was currently disguised as Michelle Lamont, a curator at the Musée Carnavalet. The real one had been left bound and gagged in her Popincourt home after a rather easy break-in. She did feel a bit bad about it, but this was her best shot at pulling off the mission smoothly, and she wasn’t going to let that go to waste. With the keys she’d stolen off her in hand, “Michelle” unlocked the front door of the museum and made her way in.

“Who’s there?!” The beam of a flashlight immediately enveloped “Michelle”. The security guard holding it let out a relieved sigh after recognizing her— or rather, who he thought she was. “Oh, it’s just you. What are you doing back here so late? The museum’s been closed for hours.”

“I realized I’d forgotten my wallet here, so I came back to fetch it. You wouldn’t happen to have seen it anywhere, would you?” “Michelle” lied.

“I can’t say I have,” the guard answered. “I’ll let you know if I find it though.”

“Thanks. I have an idea of where I might have left it, so I’m gonna go look there now.”

“Here, let me come with you.”

“Oh no, there’s no need for that, I can find it on my own.”

“No, please, I insist.”

So he was the white knight type, always looking to help out women even when it wasn’t wanted. Luckily, she knew exactly how to deal with his type. She took the liberty of undoing the top few buttons of her blouse, exposing some cleavage, before wrapping herself around him. “How noble of you.”

The guard blushed. “Y-You think so?”

His guard down, she threw him to the ground and gave him a hard kick to the head, knocking him out. Too easy. She then wasted no time restraining him, then took his flashlight and made her way to her target. Residing in the French Revolution section on the second floor, it was a painting by one Gilbert Babineaux, a painter known to reside in the same circles as several French politicians, and according to her intel, there was a coded message hidden in the painting meant for the CIA, and the painting was due to be traveling overseas in a week. Her mission was to steal that painting and bring it back to Moscow, where experts would decode its message and find out what it says. It was a war on information, and she was going to make sure the Soviets won.

It didn’t take her long to find the painting. It was a Modernist depiction of the storming of the Bastille. She shut off the flashlight and let it fall to the ground, before grabbing the painting and making a break for it, running all the way back down to the ground floor and out the door and continued running from there, not stopping until she reached an unmarked van where her partner on this mission, one agent Natasha Cioara, codename Raven, was waiting in the driver’s seat. She threw open the passenger’s side door and got in.

“I have the painting— let’s get going!” she barked, and Raven slammed down the gas pedal and they were off.

July 22, 1977

Moscow, USSR

“Good job, Vixen. Our cryptologists are working on deciphering the message as we speak.”

“It was an easy job. The security at that place was atrocious. I do hope you’ll give me something harder next time, Oleg,” she said, sipping a glass of vodka. The old spymaster had once been one of the best agents in the KGB, and he had trained her in the ways of espionage before losing his left arm and ascending to the position of director instead.

“Well, you’re in luck. Your next mission may be your most challenging one yet, one only someone of your exceptional talents could handle. A diplomat we’d dispatched to West Germany died in a car accident recently, and we suspect it was an assassination. The primary suspect right now is the right wing political party, the Christian Social Union in Bavaria, who we suspect may be looking to start a war with the Eastern Bloc. If a World War were to break out in our age of nuclear arms race, the results could be catastrophic. Your mission is to get close to the party’s leader, Walter Mal, and find out what he’s planning. In order to do this, we need you to marry and have a child.”

She spat out her drink. “Excuse me?!”

“Allow me to elaborate. Walter is a notorious recluse who operates almost entirely behind the scenes. The only public appearances he makes are at events for an elite private school his children attend, St. Freya Academy in Kolosten. We’ll need your child to enroll at this school and gain you access to these events. You’ll need to be fast though, the deadline for admissions is in a week.”

“Only a week?!”

“I’m sure you’ll have no trouble acquiring a child in that time.”

“We’ll see about that. Is that all?”

“Agent Raven will be your handler for this mission. You’ll be expected to check in with her periodically to give updates on the operation. You’re dismissed.”

Cocolia downed the rest of her vodka in one gulp. Oleg wasn’t wrong, this probably would be her most challenging mission yet, if only because she couldn’t pull it off all by herself; she would need to rely on a child. First things first though, she had to acquire said child, and fast.

July 23, 1977

Novosibirsk, USSR

Truth be told, she wasn’t opposed to the idea of having a child. Rather quite the opposite. She’d always loved kids, and there was a small part of her that longed to have one of her own, but she’d always dismissed the idea, thinking it incongruent with her life as a spy. Yet here she was, having to adopt a child as part of the mission.

She’d already assumed a new alias, Cocolia Rand, and now she had decided to return to the city she grew up in and adopt a child there.

“Are there any specific qualities in a child you’re looking for?” the matron of the orphanage she was visiting asked her.

“I want one around six, maybe a little older, who can already read and write. Give me the smartest one you have.” St. Freya’s student body was made up of kids between the ages of 6 and 19, so she couldn’t go any younger, but she also didn’t want to get a child that’s too old, as it would be easier to hide the fact that she’s a spy from a younger child.

“The smartest six year old we have, huh? You may want Bronya Zaychik then.”

Zaychik? She’d once known a fellow spy by the name of Alexei Zaychik, but he’d died a few years back. Was this Bronya his orphan?

“Be warned though, she’s a little weird. Is that going to be okay with you?”

“Yes, that’s fine. Can I see her?”

“Of course, right this way,” she led her too a room in the back where young children could be seen playing, though most of them stopped what they were doing to look at the two. “Bronya’s right over there.”

Bronya was off in the corner, playing with some blocks alone. Judging by the color of her hair and eyes, Cocolia was even more certain this was Alexei’s kid.

“Bronya, this nice lady is interested in adopting you,” the matron said, getting Bronya’s attention.

Bronya got up and walked over to them, and stared at Cocolia. “You’re going to be Bronya's new mama?”

So cute…

Cocolia kneeled down to be on Bronya’s level and gave her a soft smile. “That’s right. If you’re okay with it, that is.”

I’m not about to force her to be my child if she doesn't want to be. There are plenty of other kids to choose from, kids I could probably complete the mission with just fine. Still, I hope she accepts me…

Bronya mumbled something Cocolia couldn’t quite make out, before her eyes lit up and she nodded. “Da.”

July 24, 1977

Kolosten, West Germany

“Listen Bronya, though we’ve only just moved here, and I’ve only just adopted you, as far as anyone else is concerned, we’ve always lived in West Germany, and you’ve always been my child. The truth could make people suspicious and potentially treat us poorly for it, so it’s better they don’t know.”

She hoped Bronya would buy the excuse, as she couldn’t tell her the real reason she wanted Bronya to pretend they’d always been a family and always lived here was to avoid potentially being caught as a Soviet spy.

“Oh, but don’t just bring that up out of nowhere. Only mention it if it actually comes up in conversation, understood?” She added, figuring a child her age would probably need the extra clarification.

Bronya nodded. “Understood.”

“Good. Now let’s get our things unpacked.”

Cocolia had just purchased a pre-furnished apartment for her and Bronya to stay in; they were able to move in immediately. It was a huge convenience when the deadline for St. Freya admissions was approaching fast, so she couldn’t afford to spend time dallying. She made her way over to a closet.

I can keep my spy things in here. I’ll just have to make sure to keep this closet locked…

After placing a box containing her spy equipment inside the closet, she took out a combination lock and attached it to the closet door.

I’ll set the combination to 8-6-7-5.

After putting away her clothes, Cocolia went and found Bronya, who was watching a spy show on the television.

“Bronya, I’m stepping out for a bit. Would you like to accompany me?”

Bronya nodded and turned off the tv, before running up to her. “Where are we going?”

“I was just going to walk about town a bit and do some shopping.”

“Will you buy the Bronya anything?”

“If you want me to. Anything you want, just point it out and I’ll buy it for you, okay?”

“Okay!”

Bronya held Cocolia’s hand tightly as they walked down the street together.

She must feel so anxious. I wonder how she feels about all this, being suddenly adopted and then taken to another country… Is she going to be able to adapt to the change?

As if she’d read her thoughts, Bronya suddenly spoke. “This new life is unfamiliar to the Bronya, and that makes the Bronya feel a bit anxious, but the Bronya also didn’t like life in that crummy old orphanage much either, and the Bronya thinks this new life will ultimately be better, even if it takes some getting used to. It helps that the Bronya’s new mama is also super nice, and cool too.”

Cool? What gave her that impression?

“You think so?”

Bronya nodded in affirmation. Cocolia was relieved to find out Bronya had a good impression of her so far. She would hate to end up a failure of a parent whose child hates her. All of a sudden she felt Bronya pulling her somewhere.

“The Bronya wants Mama to buy her this.” She was pointing at a Homu plush in the window of a toy store.

So she likes Homu then? I’ll have to keep that in mind.

“The Homu plush? All right then, let’s go inside and I’ll buy it for you.”

Soon they were back to walking along the street, Bronya holding her new Homu plush in one hand, and Cocolia’s hand in the other.

“I’m going to buy some groceries. What kinds of food do you like, Bronya?”

“The Bronya likes cheese and crackers and grapes and apples and chicken nuggets and…”

Cocolia let out a warm hearted laugh. She supposed she shouldn’t have expected any different from a child her age. Still, she resolved to get her the food she likes, and some other foods to find out if she likes them as well. It sounded like she hadn’t had many more complex meals in her life yet. A half hour later and they were walking the streets again, Cocolia carrying a bag of groceries in hand, this time heading in the direction of their apartment.

“Mama, the Bronya is tired.” She had let go of Cocolia’s hand and was now rubbing her eye with her free hand.

Cocolia knelt down and held her free arm open. “Here, let me carry you the rest of the way home.”

And so Cocolia went on walking the rest of the way home, grocery bag in one arm and Bronya cradled in the other. The sight of the sleeping Bronya in her arms, arms wrapped around her Homu doll, was one of the most precious things she’d ever seen. While she may have only had Bronya for a day and a half at this point, she knew she would do anything for her.

Once back home, she made sure to carefully tuck Bronya into bed, before stepping out again. The KGB had an informant in town by the name of Sampo Koski that she needed to meet with, and with Bronya asleep in bed this was her best opportunity to do so.

Bronya woke up to find her mama was nowhere to be found.

“Mama?” she called out as she searched every room of the apartment, but she received no answer. She came to the conclusion that she must have slipped out of the house to do some secret spy stuff.

The Bronya wishes Mama would have taken her along. The Bronya would have loved to see Mama in action.

She looked out the windows to see if she could spot her mama, but from what she could see, her mama was too far away from home to have any real hope of finding her.

Hmmm, what about the spy things Mama left in the closet?

Recalling her mama had set the lock combination to 8-6-7-5, Bronya got the closet unlocked and pulled out her mama’s box of spy things.

“Ooh, a spy radio?”

“Sir, we’ve just intercepted an interesting transmission.”

“What is it?”

“We found it on a frequency often used by the KGB. It’s in plain text, and says ‘Catch me if you can - the Demoness’.”

“What?! The Demoness of Siberia?! Does she intend to taunt us? Find the source of that transmission as fast as you can! We’ll make her pay the price for her hubris.”

BND officer Edmund Hofer smiled. No one had ever successfully captured the Demoness of Siberia and lived to tell the tale, so if it really was her, he’d be sure to earn himself a raise, maybe even a promotion too, especially with the juicy secrets an interrogation could bring to light. He couldn’t let this opportunity slip up.

“Well, if it isn’t my old friend, uh, what’s the name you’re going by these days again?” Sampo greeted as she approached his shop.

“Cocolia.”

“Well, if it isn’t my old friend Cocolia!”

“Cut the small talk, Sampo. Do you have the goods?”

“Of course. You can find a St. Freya application, an appointment for the entrance exam, and a copy of the test all right here in this little envelope,” Sampo said, pulling one out and holding it out to her.

Cocolia opened the envelope to confirm what he was saying was true, then handed him his payment. “Thank you.”

“Always a pleasure to do business with you, friend! And hey, if you happen to need anything else-”

“Drop the salesman shtick, I’m not interested in any of your scams and you know it. Anyway, now that I have what I came for, I’ll be going. I need to get back to Bronya.”

“Try not to get too attached, it won’t end well and you know it.”

Of course she knew it. Even still, it was hard not to get attached. She’d have to make sure to find a good home for Bronya when the mission was over. She deserved as much. It was the least she could do.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

When Cocolia opened the door to her apartment, she found a baseball bat being swung at her head. Reacting quickly, she ducked under it and retaliated, kicking him in the crotch and then the chest, sending him flying back against the wall. A second man tried to attack her from behind but she took him out with a roundhouse kick, also sending him flying against the wall. Her attackers incapacitated, she frantically searched the rest of the house for Bronya.

“Bronya? Bronya are you there?!” And yet she could not find her. Frustrated, she pulled out a silenced pistol, grabbed one of the men who’d attacked her, and held him up against the wall, the barrel of the gun poking into his neck. “Where’s Bronya?!”

“Is that the kid’s name? The others decided to take her with them just in case.” “What others? Who are you people, what do you want?”

The man gulped. “We’re BND agents. We intercepted a transmission from the Demoness of Siberia taunting us and telling us to catch her if we can, which we traced back here, but all we found was a little kid, so the others took her with them to use as leverage while the boss told us to stay behind in case the Demoness showed up later. He wanted us to capture her and bring her over for interrogation.”

Odd— Cocolia didn’t recall sending such a transmission. Still, that wasn’t important. Right now she needed to figure out how to save Bronya. She took a brief moment to think up a plan.

“All right then, if it’s the Demoness he wants, it’s the Demoness he’ll get. Listen up you two, if you want to live, you’ll do as I say. Here’s the plan…”

Bronya was scared. If she had known playing around with her mama’s spy equipment meant a bunch of strange men would break into the apartment and kidnap her, she would have never done it. But here she was, tied up in an abandoned warehouse surrounded by a handful of unfamiliar men she suspected did not have good intentions. They must be real life bad guys. She could only hope her mama would show up to rescue her soon.

“Why did we bring the kid along with us again? I didn’t think kidnapping little kids was in my job description,” one of the bad guys said.

“Don’t you get it? She was in the same apartment we traced the Demoness’s transmission back to,” another one of the bad guys, who seemed to be the leader of them, said. “She’s probably her daughter. If Hans and Ernst fail to capture her themselves, we can force her to surrender to us herself instead by using the kid as a hostage.”

“I guess. It still doesn’t exactly sit right with me though.”

“Look, sometimes you’ve got to do things you’re not comfortable with. Those dirty commies won’t play nice, so neither should we. If we don’t play dirty every now and then, we’re just letting them win. The ends justify the means, as they say.”

“You know, if this kid really is the Demoness’s, maybe she knows something. Maybe we should ask her some questions while we wait for Hans and Ernst to get back,” a third bad guy suggested.

“Good idea. Hey kid!” The leader bad guy crouched down in front of her. “Do you know anything about the Demoness of Siberia?”

“Um… Uh…” She wanted to tell them she didn’t know anything, but found herself unable to form words. In the end, she just ended up shaking her head.

“Damn, sounds like the kid’s too scared to say anything right now,” The leader bad guy said, backing away from Bronya, to her great relief. “Oh well, we’ll get all the information we need off the Demoness when we get our hands on her.”

Just then, a black unmarked van pulled up outside the warehouse.

“Speak of the devil, looks like Hans and Ernst are back.”

Two men stepped out of the van, presumably Hans and Ernst, and then they went around to the back and dragged out a woman in a green suit, who had a bag over her head and was bound hand and foot. She was squirming in her bonds and making muffled grunts.

“She gave us some real trouble, but in the end we managed to get the jump on her,” either Hans or Ernst, Bronya had no idea which it was, said, dropping the woman to the ground.

“Good, good. Now let’s find out what the Demoness of Siberia really looks like,” the leader bad guy said, pulling the bag off her head.

“Mama!” Bronya called out, recognizing her instantly. How could her mama have been caught by the bad guys too?

“Shut it kid!” the bad guy next to her yelled, slamming the but of his rifle into her shoulder, making her cry out in pain.

“Bronya!” her mama cried out, though it was muffled by the gag in her mouth.

The bad guy leader chuckled. “So I was right, that kid is your daughter. You got too cocky, Demoness. I bet you thought you were being real cute sending that transmission, but now look what it’s done for you. Not only have you been captured, but so has your daughter. What do you have to say for yourself?”

He leaned down and pulled the gag down.

“Stay away from my daughter,” her mama said.

And then all of a sudden, she was sprinting towards her, her hands and feet no longer being bound, and soon her mama was carrying her in one hand and pointing a silenced pistol at the bad guys in the other.

“I suggest you close your eyes, Bronya. Real violence is more graphic than what you’ll see on TV.”

As much as Bronya wanted to see her mama in action, she decided it was probably better to follow her mama’s advice, and so she closed her eyes. The sounds of gunfire erupted around them, occasionally interspersed with the sound of a man screaming in pain. Never her mama though. It was clear that, even as outnumbered as she was, her mama was winning. Eventually it grew silent for a second, before another gunshot rang out.

“Ernst! I thought you said you’d let us live if we helped you?!” the man from earlier, who must have been Hans, said.

“I lied,” her mama said, and one more gunshot rang out, before her mama started running. Soon, an explosion was heard behind them, and her mama spoke again. “You can open your eyes now, Bronya.”

Bronya opened her eyes to find her mama looking at her softly. They were out on the street now, and judging from the explosion she heard, her mama must have blown up that abandoned warehouse. Her mama pulled out a knife, using it to cut her bonds. “Are you okay, Bronya?”

Bronya hugged her mother tightly and cried, before nodding. “The Bronya is, now that you’re here. It was so scary. How did you do that, Mama? Who were those people?”

“Well, two of those men tried to ambush me when I came home to the apartment, but I made quick work of them. I then told them I’d spare their lives if they went along with my plan. It was a lie, of course. I did not trust them, but I needed their help to get to you, so I had them pretend to have captured me. All the while I had this knife hidden up my sleeve, with I used to cut the ropes while their boss was talking, under the pretense of normal struggling. As for who those guys were…”

Hrmmm, how am I supposed to explain this without giving away that I’m a spy? her mama thought. Well, maybe if I just keep things simplified…

“Well, they were bad people that worked for a bad organization, and they wanted to harm you and me. I’m afraid we’re going to have to move too, now that our location has been compromised. Really though, it’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have left you home alone.”

Her mama was a big liar. Bronya almost wanted to reveal that she knew she was a spy, but she knew she couldn't. Her original mama had told her to never tell anyone about her power.

“Mama?” Bronya asked. “Can you teach the Bronya to fight like you do? If bad guys come for the Bronya again, the Bronya wants to be able to fight them off, rather than counting on Mama to save her.”

“I’ll tell you what. If you can manage to pass the St. Freya entrance exam, I’ll teach you how to fight, okay?”

Bronya didn’t know what that was, but if it meant her mama would teach her how to fight, she’d do it. “Okay.”

July 25, 1977

Kolosten, West Germany

Cocolia had managed to find them a new house, and while she had worried the building she’d destroyed and BND agents she’d killed might bring her unwanted attention, it seemed the media was assuming the RAF had done it, so she was in the clear for now. In the meantime, she needed to prepare Bronya for the exam.

“All right Bronya, if you’re going to pass that exam, you’ll need to study for it first. Here, let’s go over it together…”

July 30, 1977

Cocolia was relieved to find out not only had Bronya passed the exam, but she’d been one of the top scorers at that. She knew she was right to have chosen Bronya.

“Congratulations Bronya, you did it,” Cocolia said, hugging her daughter.

“This means you’ll teach the Bronya how to fight now, right?”

“Of course, I don’t go back on my word.” “You did with those bad guys.”

Well, Bronya had her there. Still though. “That was different. They were bad people. You’re my daughter. I wouldn’t break a promise to my daughter. Now come on, let’s go home.”

Just as Cocolia had begun to teach Bronya the basics of self-defense though, there was a knock on the door.

“Is this the Rand household?”

Cocolia went over to the door and opened it, where a mailman was standing there. “Yes, what is it?”

“You’ve got a letter from St. Freya Academy.”

It must be about the admissions. Cocolia took the letter and opened it immediately. Apparently for the second phase of the admissions process, there would be a mandatory family interview. That already sounded daunting enough on its own, but then she read the last line: Both parents must attend with the applicant. Absolutely no exceptions.

“Блять!”

Chapter Text

July 31, 1977

Kolosten, West Germany

“Well, if it isn’t my old pal Cocolia! What brings you around here this time, friend?”

“I need you to find me a husband,” Cocolia said, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. She had made sure to have one of the neighbors agree to watch Bronya before she left the house, to avoid repeating the mistake she’d made a week ago.

Sampo gave her an inquisitive look. “A husband?”

Cocolia took a puff of her cigarette. “The second phase of the admissions process is a family interview and requires both parents to attend, with no exceptions. Obviously, this poses an issue in a case such as Bronya’s, where there is no second parent. If I can’t find a husband in the next two weeks, Bronya won’t be able to get into St. Freya.”

“Can you not get the KGB to send someone to pose as your husband?”

Another puff. “Already tried that. They don’t have anyone available to send right now. They suggested I have you pose as my husband, but to be honest I think I’d sooner kill myself than have to pretend to be your wife.”

Sampo put his hand over his heart and feigned shock. “You wound me, my lady.” He then leaned in and whispered. “Just between you and me, I don’t swing that way anyway.”

“Somehow that’s one of the least surprising things I’ve ever found out about you.” Another puff. “So can you do it or not?”

“I’ll have the profiles of every unwed man in town in your hands by the end of tomorrow.”

Cocolia smothered her cigarette against the wall. “Good. I’ll see you then.”

“I’m sailing away… Set an open course for the virgin sea…” Serval sang as she popped open the hood of a client’s car. It was a pretty simple spark plug replacement job. She already had all the plugs properly gapped and greased up, and now all she had left to do was actually change out the plugs. She had her record player playing Styx’s new album, The Grand Illusion, which was easily the best new music release of the month in her opinion; the fourth track, “Come Sail Away”, was the highlight of the album. “Cause I’ve got to be free… Free to face the life, that’s ahead of me…”

“On board, I’m the captain… So climb aboard…” She pulled out the wire for the first spark plug.

“We’ll search for tomorrow on every shore and I’ll try, oh lord, I’ll try…” She cleaned out the plug’s well. “To caaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarry on…”

“I look to the sea… Reflections in the waves spark my memories…” She broke loose the old plug, discarding it. “Some happy, some sad… I think of childhood friends, and the dreams we had…”

“We lived happily forever… So the story goes…” She put the new spark plug in place. “But somehow we missed out on the pot of gold…”

“But we’ll try, best that we can…” She used a torque wrench to make sure the plug was secured according to the car’s specifications. “To caaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarry on…”

She went ahead and replaced the wire for that plug, and by the time she was working on the next one, the chorus was kicking in. “A gathering of angels appeared above my head! They sang to me this song of hope, and this is what they said: They said come sail away, come sail away, come sail away with me, lads. Come sail away, come sail away, come sail away with me…”

She continued to sing and hum along to the song, and within 15 minutes, she had all four spark plugs and their corresponding wires replaced. She closed the hood and wiped her brow, before heading back to the main room of her workshop, pulling out her phone and making a call. “Hi Mrs. Schröder, this is Serval. I’m here to let you know your vehicle should be good to drive again. You can come by the shop to pick it up whenever you’re ready.”

Hanging up the phone, Serval grabbed the remote control for the TV and turned it on. “Let’s see what’s on the news today.”

“Dresdner Bank chairman Jürgen Ponto was murdered in his Oberursel home yesterday in what is believed to have been a botched kidnapping attempt by the Baader-Meinhof Gang. It’s believed to be the terrorist group’s third major crime this year, after the murder of Attorney General Siegfried Buback back in April and the murder of eight BND agents in an abandoned warehouse in Kolosten a week-”

Serval shut off the tv. That last one hadn’t even been them, though she didn’t think whoever had done it had done anything wrong. After all, eight dead fascists was eight dead fascists, regardless of what specific people or group had committed the deed.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the phone ringing. “Hello, this is Serval Landau. Who is this?”

“This is your father.”

Shit. She’d hoped to be able to go at least another month without her dad pestering her again. She let out a nervous laugh. “Oh hi, Father. What’s up?”

“Have you managed to find a boyfriend yet?”

She sighed. She had a feeling this was what it was going to be about. Her father had been putting increasing pressure on her to settle down the older she got, but she had zero interest in being some rich scumbag's trophy wife, she just wanted to live her life as she saw fit, without having to worry about what people wanted or expected of her, and maybe make the world a better place while she's at it. Yet she had to make concessions to him every now and again, otherwise she risked getting cut off from the family's money, and then she’d be in big trouble. While she loved running the workshop, it wasn’t exactly profitable. And yet a decision like this was too big to make lightly.

“Oh no, I haven’t yet, sorry. I’m still trying to find a guy who meets my standards.” It wasn't entirely a lie; good men were hard to find, that's why she generally preferred hooking up with women. She could never tell him that though, he'd probably have an aneurysm if he found out.

“You’re setting them too high. If you go looking for a Paul McCartney, you’ll just end up disappointed. Honestly, you’re 27 years old, you should have given us grandkids by now, and yet you still haven’t even found yourself a boyfriend, let alone a husband. And if you wait too long, you’ll be too old and no man will want you anyway!”

She winced. Not this rant again. “Sorry.”

“No, sorry’s not going to cut it. Listen, the family will be hosting a dinner party this Saturday. You will attend, and you will bring a date, and if you can’t find one, I will pick one for you. Do you understand me?”

Serval sighed. “Yes, Father.”

“Good. I’ll be seeing you then.”

And with that he hung up. Not only would she have to attend one of her family's stupid fancy dinner parties, they were forcing her to bring a date too. What a drag. She didn’t even know if she had any clothes that would be appropriate for the dinner party anymore. Fancy dresses didn’t fit with the punk rock aesthetic she liked to cultivate. She would have to check later; she had more important plans first.

After work, Serval made her way to one of the city’s RAF safehouses, where she was due to meet with one of the members of Kolosten’s local commando, which she acted as quartermaster of. Rather than her usual flashy attire, she was clad in a trench coat, a fedora, and a mask covering the lower half of her face, so as to hide her identity. While normally simply using codenames with each other was enough to keep the identities of RAF members sufficiently hidden, the Landau family was too important a family in the city for a codename to keep her identity hidden, and she could not afford to risk potentially being ratted out to the government should one of the members of her commando get caught.

The man she was meeting with went by the codename Foxtrot, and his rather unassuming appearance made him perfect for the job she had for him.

“Is it just me today?” He asked, noticing there was no one else with them.

“That’s right. Tonight’s job won’t need more than one person to carry it out. It’s a pretty simple one, really. According to our intel, Jochen Busch, former Nazi and an executive at Hoechst AG, has been staying in Kolosten for the past few days, but he’s due to be taking a train to Frankfurt tonight.” Serval pulled out a syringe from the inside of her trench coat. “This syringe contains a lethal dose of ricin. Your job is to head to the train station and pretend to be a normal passerby, and inject him with this while drawing as little attention to yourself as possible. Do you think you can do it?”

Serval thought it was a pretty easy job. Were it not for the fact that she’d stand out too much in a crowd and be too liable to get caught, she’d even do it herself. The ricin wasn’t hard to make either, so long as you knew the right process to extract it.

Foxtrot took the syringe. “Yeah, I think I can do it.”

August 1, 1977

Kolosten, West Germany

“All right, I’ve got files on every unmarried man in the city,” Sampo said, placing a huge stack of papers on the living room table.

“Mama, who’s that?” Bronya asked.

“This is my… friend, Sampo,” Cocolia said. She wished she had a better word to use, but she didn’t, so friend would have to do. “He’s going to help me find you a Papa so you can get into St. Freya.”

“That’s right. I don’t know how easily we’ll be able to find a man who doesn’t care that you have a kid and is willing to get married within the next two weeks, though.”

“You’d be surprised how far most men are willing to go for an attractive woman.” Cocolia was no stranger to taking advantage of her looks for the sake of a mission. “Don’t assume other men are like you. For one thing, most of them aren’t gay.”

“What is ‘gay’?'” Bronya asked.

“Well, you know how girls generally like boys and boys generally like girls? For some people it’s different, some of us are girls who like girls or boys who like boys. That’s what being gay is.” Cocolia explained.

Bronya nodded. “So Mr. Sampo likes other men?”

“That’s right, but don’t go telling other people that. It’s a secret, okay?”

Bronya nodded again. “Understood.”

“Anyway— ideally, I’ll also want the man I marry to be refined enough for St. Freya, and most importantly, a good father to Bronya. With all these factors put together, finding someone eligible will be hard, but surely someone in the city must meet them.”

“Speaking of refinement, shouldn’t you have your daughter work on that too? The way she’s dressed right now doesn’t exactly scream ‘high class’ to me.”

Sampo had a point. Cocolia had been so focused on having Bronya pass the exam, and then on getting a husband, that she hadn’t gotten her any new clothes yet. She would have to fix that. “You make a fair point. Come along Bronya, we’re going to the tailor.”

“Wait, what about finding a husband?!” Sampo asked as they got up to leave.

“We can worry about that when we get back. Feel free to go over the candidates for me while we’re gone.” And with that, Cocolia and Bronya were out the door.

I should get some dresses made for myself as well. Ideally, I’ll want dresses that allow me to blend in with the country’s bourgeoisie while sacrificing as little mobility as possible. The skirt can’t be too short either, lest I get called a harlot…

“Mama, what’s a harlot?”

“Where did you learn that word?!”

“Um… TV?”

“I’m going to have to pay more attention to what you’re watching on there. Kids your age shouldn’t know that word…”

Bronya came back from getting measured by the tailor to find a strangely-dressed woman staring at her mama.

Oh wow, she’s gorgeous. I almost want to make a move right now, but I know better than to hit on women outside of gay bars. Besides, I can’t say I’ve ever seen her in one before. If I did, I would definitely remember. She’s probably straight.

So this lady was gay for her mama? Bronya leaned against the wall to spy on the two of them. It was kind of exciting. Was this what her mama felt like when she did her missions?

Her mama turned to the stranger. “Is there a reason you’re staring at me?”

The strange lady blushed. “Oh, uh…” Crap, think of an excuse, quick! “Well, uh, I don’t think I’ve seen you around before. Are you new here?”

“That’s right, I just moved in about a week ago. I’m Cocolia, by the way.” She held out her hand for the strange lady to take.

Ah, so she’s new in town— no wonder I haven’t seen her in the gay bar before. There’s still hope for me yet!

The lady took her Mama’s hand and shook it. “I’m Serval. Nice to meet you.”

Serval Landau, the rebellious eldest child of the CEO of a major military contractor. I hadn’t expected her to be so attractive in person…

So her mama was gay too?! What an interesting development. No wonder she’d been so unenthused about having to find a husband.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Serval. What brings you here?”

“My parents are making me go to one of their stupid dinner parties this Saturday, and I don’t have any fancy dresses in good enough shape to wear to it. What about you?”

“I came to get some dresses tailored for my daughter and I.”

Crap, she has a kid! There go my chances with her…

Bronya knew she had to do something to salvage this, so she ran up to her mama, clung to her dress, and said “Mama, can she be the Bronya’s second Mama so the Bronya can get into that school?”

Her mama’s face immediately went red. “Excuse me?!”

Serval gave them a questioning look. “What’s she talking about?”

Her mama sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Let’s take this conversation outside.”

As they headed outside, Bronya noticed Serval looking at a newspaper someone was reading.

‘Hoechst Executive Hospitalized’? Sounds like the assassination was a success. It’s only a matter of time until the ricin completely does him in.

Assassination?!

“To make a long story short, little Bronya here’s father died a couple of years ago, and it had always been a dream of he and I to get Bronya into a good school. We had our sights set on St. Freya Academy, and while she passed the written exam with flying colors, the second phase of admissions requires both parents to attend a mandatory family interview, which is a problem when the second parent is dead,” Cocolia explained. “I’m not sure why Bronya suggested you for it though, I doubt they’d let in a kid with gay parents.”

“Actually, you’d be surprised. If the family interviews now are anything like they were when I went to that school, it’s the headmaster, Otto Apocalypse, that conducts them. He happens to be close friends with one Kallen Kaslana, who I’ve seen at the local gay bar every now and again. Given how close they are, I imagine he probably knows she’s gay and doesn’t have a problem with it, so I don’t see why he’d have a problem with a kid with gay parents applying for his school,” Serval said. “Plus, I happen to need someone to act as my romantic partner as well. My dad told me if I don’t bring a date to his stupid dinner party, they’ll pick one for me, and I’d rather avoid that if I can; If you act as my date to this party, I’ll gladly pretend to be Bronya’s second parent at that interview for you. So what do you say, I scratch your back, you scratch mine?”

Cocolia knew she should say no. The logical part of her brain was screaming at her to say no. Even if she did manage to successfully get Bronya into St. Freya this way, acting as a gay couple would put a lot more attention on her than if she just found a man to act as her husband, and the less attention a spy had on them, the better. And yet for once in her career, she found herself ignoring the logical part of her brain.

“You have yourself a deal. I’ll see you Saturday.”

August 2, 1977

Kolosten, West Germany

“Good day, Agent Vixen.”

“Hello, Raven. What’s this about?” Cocolia asked. She’d been given a coded message to meet up with her handler at a secret location at this date and time.

“Oleg wants a status report on the progress of your mission. By now the first phase of admissions should have been completed. From what I’ve heard, it sounds like you managed to get your kid through that just fine.”

“That’s right. I adopted a brilliant child by the name of Bronya, and she not only passed, but with a perfect score at that.”

“Good. If she’s that smart, this mission should go a lot more smoothly. And how are preparations for the second phase going? I know we weren’t able to fulfill your request for an agent to act as your husband, have you managed to find one yet, or are you still looking?”

“I've found one,” Cocolia said. “Sort of.”

Natasha gave her an inquisitive look. “What do you mean, ‘sort of’?”

Cocolia let out a nervous laugh. “I managed to find a second parent for Bronya, but it’s… another woman.”

“Another woman?! Are you insane?!”

“I know what I’m doing,” Cocolia insisted.

“Look, I don’t care if you’re gay, but a lot of people in that country will, including, I’d imagine, the people at St. Freya!”

“It’s not like that! She just also happened to be in need of a fake romantic partner. It was done out of convenience for both of us, that’s all,” Cocolia insisted, though she couldn’t hide the way her cheeks had reddened. “It shouldn’t be an obstacle to getting Bronya into St. Freya either. From what I’ve heard, the headmaster’s best friend is a lesbian, and it’s likely she’s out to him, so he’s unlikely to discriminate against same-sex couples.”

“You’d better make damn sure you get that confirmed if you’re still insistent on going this route. Personally, I think you’re getting the raw end of your deal. Even if you do manage to get Bronya into St. Freya this way, you’d still be drawing more attention to yourself than you would if you’d just found a man to pose as your husband, and you of all people should know how important it is not to draw more attention to yourself than necessary as a spy.”

Cocolia sighed. “I know. Still, I think I can pull this off. Have a little faith in me.”

Natasha sighed in turn. “If it were any other spy but you, I wouldn’t, but since it is you, maybe I will. That should be all. You’re free to leave.”

“All right. Before I go though, I have a personal request to ask of you, Natasha.” She used her given name instead of her code-name to show that this had nothing to do with the mission. “Do you remember Alexei Zaychik?”

“Yeah. It’s a shame what happened to him. Why do you ask?”

“The child I adopted, Bronya, her last name was Zaychik, and she has the same hair and eye color as him. I think she may have been his child. Would you mind looking into her history for me? You don’t have to, of course. This request is purely to sate my own personal curiosity. I doubt anything you find out will affect the mission.”

“I’ll see what I can do. What was the name of the orphanage you got her from again?”

From what Cocolia could tell, there was only a single gay bar in Kolosten, a place called “The Garden of Delights”. The facade was unassuming and didn’t stand out, but that was to be expected, as places like this were usually advertised through word of mouth. She’d opted to wear a short-skirted dress, as she figured this was the kind of place she could get away with it. As she stepped into the bar, she took note of the layout. It was a large room, with the bar at the far left side, various tables, booths, and chairs lining the perimeter of the room, and a dance floor at the center. There was a mix of men and women scattered throughout the bar, though if Cocolia were to make an estimate she’d say the men slightly outnumbered the women, and couples could be seen all throughout the bar engaged in various public displays of affection; It was understandable, given places like this were the only places they could get away with it without fearing for their safety. As Cocolia scanned the crowd, she spotted someone familiar walking over to her.

“Cocolia? What are you doing here?” Serval asked. She was wearing a band tee of Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon album art that had been modified into a cropped tank top, ripped jeans, combat boots, fingerless leather gloves, and a dog collar, and her nails were painted a bright purple. She looked incredibly attractive. Cocolia had been no stranger to using her looks to her advantage in a mission, and couldn’t help but wonder if this was how it felt to be on the receiving end of that.

“You mentioned you’d seen Kallen Kaslana here every now and again, I was hoping to catch her so I could get it confirmed from her firsthand if Otto Apocalypse is open to gay couples,” Cocolia explained. “What about you? What are you doing here?”

Serval gave her a pointed look. “What do you think?”

“You’re right, that was a stupid question. Anyway, have you seen her?”

“I can’t say I have.”

“Damn it. I guess I’ll come back tomorrow then.” Just as she was turning to leave though, she felt Serval grab hold of her wrist.

“Now hold on, I wouldn’t be so hasty. Even if she’s not here now, she could still show up later. Are you sure you don’t want to stick around?”

Cocolia knew this, of course. Really she’d just wanted to leave because she knew if she stayed, it would be in her and Serval’s best interests to start acting like a couple, and doing that in a place like this… “You’re right. While I’m reluctant to leave Bronya in the care of Sampo any longer than necessary, she’s probably asleep by now, I’m sure she’ll be fine for a few more hours. In the meantime, while we’re here, we should probably start acting like a couple.”

“Are you sure? You’re aware of what that entails in a place like this, right?”

“Of course I am. But if I’m to get Bronya into St. Freya, it’s in my best interests to eliminate any possible shred of doubt about us being a real couple.”

“Makes sense to me.” Serval bumped Cocolia with her hip. “Come on, let’s start with some dancing.” She led Cocolia out onto the dance floor, where various people were currently dancing to ABBA’s “Dancing Queen”. “You don’t get out to these kinds of places much, do you?”

“I can’t say I do, no.”

“I figured. I’ll take the lead then.” Serval took Cocolia’s right hand with her left and put her right hand on Cocolia’s back, and soon she was singing and swaying along to the music, Cocolia doing her best to follow, Serval occasionally spinning her around. Such close, intimate proximity to Serval did make Cocolia feel a bit flushed, but she also knew this was nothing compared to what some of the other couples were doing. All the while Cocolia was making sure to scan the bar for any sign of Kallen.

After about a half hour of dancing, there was still no sign of Kallen. “I’m getting tired. Let’s go get a drink.”

“Okay.”

The two of them walked hand-in-hand over to the bar. The bartender saw them approaching and called out. “Hey Serval, who’s the new fling?”

“Oh she’s not a fling, Lukas,” Serval said, taking a seat on one of the bar stools, Cocolia sitting down in the one right next to it. “She’s my girlfriend actually.”

“No way, you actually entered a serious relationship with someone?!”

“That’s right.”

“We’ve actually been dating for a while now, but because our relationship was long distance until I moved into town recently, we’d decided to keep it private as well, until now that is,” Cocolia added, a story she’d come up with to avoid accusations of only getting into a relationship so she could get Bronya into St. Freya. She held out her hand for the bartender, Lukas apparently, to shake. “I’m Cocolia.”

“I’m Lukas. Nice to meet you,” he said, shaking her hand. “So what can I get you two tonight?”

“I’ll have a piña colada,” Serval said.

“Vodka,” Cocolia said.

“All right, one piña colada and one vodka coming right up,” Lukas said, and he turned to go make their drinks.

“Just straight vodka, really? I’m surprised you can stomach it.”

“Vodka has always been my alcohol of choice. Generally you’ll want to have food to accompany it, but I’ve been drinking it long enough that I can drink it straight without issue.”

“Wow, impressive.”

“Here are your drinks, ladies,” Lukas said, setting down their drinks on the counter.

“Thank you,” Cocolia said, grabbing her drink and standing up. “Let’s go find somewhere to sit.”

They ended up settling in a booth in the front right by the entrance, allowing Cocolia to easily spot Kallen Kaslana should she happen to come in. Of course, this didn’t stop her from continuing her habitual scanning of the crowds. It was always possible she was already in there and she just hadn’t managed to spot her yet.

“How often would you say Kallen Kaslana comes here? Is there any consistency in what days she comes here?” Cocolia asked Serval, before taking a sip of her vodka.

“She comes in fairly often, but there’s no real consistency to it that I’ve noticed. If you just keep coming every day you should easily be able to run into her before the day of the interview,” Serval said. She was scooched up right next to Cocolia in the booth, and while the proximity made Cocolia a bit nervous, she also knew it was necessary to really sell the idea that they were a real couple.

“Good to know. I’ll be back tomorrow then.”

“Are you leaving already?”

Cocolia shook her head. “No, I’ll give it a couple more hours, but I’m starting to doubt if she’ll show up tonight. Does she have any specific time she tends to show up at?”

“Not from what I can recall, sorry.”

Cocolia sighed. “I guess I’ll have to wait it out then.” She took another sip of her vodka.

“We should kiss.”

Cocolia spat out her drink, before coughing and sputtering as she tried to formulate a response. “Where did that come from?!”

Serval blushed. “Well I just meant like, it’d be hard for us to pass off as a couple here if we don’t kiss at least once, right?”

“Well yes, I agree, but bringing it up out of nowhere?” The many couples in the establishment sucking face had not failed to escape Cocolia’s notice.

“It wasn’t out of nowhere! I was just waiting for a good opportunity to bring it up,” Serval defended. “Come on, let’s do this.”

“Right,” Cocolia said, taking a deep breath and bracing herself. She could feel her face heat up already.

Serval smiled at her softly. “You’ve never kissed another woman before, have you?”

“No,” Cocolia admitted. Let alone one as attractive as you…

“That’s okay, just close your eyes, and let me ease you into it…” Serval said, cupping her face. Cocolia closed her eyes, and soon Serval’s lips were on hers. It was intoxicating. Within seconds, Cocolia found herself kissing back, wrapping her arms around Serval, wishing the moment would never end. But of course, it had to eventually, and once they had parted, Cocolia found herself giggling a bit at Serval’s face. “What?”

“Let’s just say you may want to wipe your face before you leave here,” Cocolia said. The red lipstick she’d worn had rubbed off on Serval’s own lips, leaving her looking like she’d sloppily applied some on.

Not having a mirror on hand to look at, Serval opted to look at her reflection in her wine glass instead, and started laughing as well. “You’re right, I probably should. But the night’s still young, I think it can wait for now. If you look at the other couples in here, they’re not settling for just one kiss.”

And so they kissed again. They spent the next couple of hours drinking and conversing and committing the occasional public display of affection, so as to really sell the couple act. They never did end up seeing Kallen Kaslana that night, and Cocolia ended up having to give up and leave. And while the CIA, FBI, BND, and KGB could never get it out of her, she could admit to herself, at least, that she’d had a great time.

August 3, 1977

Kolosten, West Germany

Knowing that Cocolia would be at the gay club again tonight, Serval had decided to put a little extra effort into her appearance before going out. In addition to her collar and fingerless gloves, she was wearing an off the shoulder crop top, short jean shorts, fishnet stockings, and a pair of high-heeled boots. She gave herself a good look over in the mirror, making sure her outfit and makeup were on-point.

Looking herself over, she thought - hoped - that Cocolia wouldn't be able to keep her hands to herself. She actually had no idea if Cocolia was even into women. She knew she’d had a husband, but that didn’t mean anything, Serval knew plenty of lesbians who had been in relationships with men before, be it because they hadn’t figured themselves out, he was serving as her beard, or otherwise, plus it could also just be that she swung both ways. Of course, it was also entirely possible she was just a straight woman who was weirdly okay with pretending to be in a gay relationship. This uncertainty kept her from making any moves that weren’t under the pretense of making their pretend relationship look convincing. She was honestly kind of hoping Kallen wouldn’t show up for a while so that she could have more opportunities for it.

As soon as Serval arrived at the Garden of Delights, before she could even begin to scan the bar to see if Cocolia was there yet, she heard the woman in question’s voice coming from her left.

“Oh good, you’re here now.” Serval turned to see Cocolia sitting in the same booth the two of them had occupied the previous night, nursing a glass of vodka. She was wearing a green dress that showed a generous amount of cleavage, which Serval had to stop herself from staring at. “I’ve had several women hit on me in the time since I arrived here, only for them to be disappointed when I tell them I’m already taken. Your presence should ward off any future attempts.”

“Awww, you missed me,” Serval said playfully, sitting down in Cocolia’s lap. It seemed her seduction was working already, because next thing she knew, Cocolia had grabbed her wrists and pinned her up against the wall. Serval couldn’t help but notice how strong Cocolia was too. All the more reason to be attracted to her.

“Of course I did, my little… um…” Cocolia paused for a moment. “We’ll have to work on coming up with pet names. But first…”

Cocolia leaned in and kissed her, and as Serval kissed her back, she wanted nothing more than for this moment to last forever. There was a spark she felt with Cocolia that she hadn’t felt with anyone else before. She thought she could even fall in love with this woman. When Cocolia broke the kiss, she didn’t stop there, opting instead to trail more kisses along Serval’s exposed shoulder, and Serval could feel her face really heat up. Just as she was really getting into it though, she heard the door open, and found herself looking in its direction.

“She’s here,” Serval said, and Cocolia stopped what she was doing immediately. Serval almost regretted saying it, thinking maybe she should have kept it to herself so she could enjoy the moment longer, but she knew Cocolia probably wouldn’t have appreciated it if she’d hid that from her.

“Let’s go then,” Cocolia said, getting up and pulling Serval up with her. Kallen had taken a seat at the bar, and Cocolia walked over and took a seat next to her, Serval sitting right next to Cocolia and clinging to her bicep to make it clear they were an item. “Excuse me, you’re Kallen Kaslana, right?”

Kallen turned to them and gave them a friendly smile. “That’s right. Did you need something?”

“You’re close friends with Otto Apocalypse, the head of St. Freya Academy, right?”

“That’s right, we've been best friends for over 40 years now! Why do you ask? Are you trying to get a child into St. Freya or…?”

“That’s exactly it. My daughter has already passed the written exam, but I notice the family interview requires both parents to attend, and in my case, my partner is another woman,” she motioned to Serval. “I wanted to know if he would discriminate against us for that at all. I figured since his best friend is gay, there’d be a chance he wouldn’t.”

“Well, I don’t think he would. A long time ago he might have, but he’s let go of such prejudices ever since I came out to him. If he does decide to disqualify you because of it though, just let me know and I’ll never let him hear the end of it.”

Cocolia let out a visible sigh of relief. “Thank you. It’s a real weight off my shoulders to know that.”

“That said, don’t think getting in will be so easy just because he won’t disqualify you for being gay. You still have to make sure you meet the academy’s lofty standards, which may be a bit difficult given your partner is Serval Landau.” Kallen looked right at Serval, and Serval suddenly felt a bit awkward. “Didn’t you nearly get expelled from St. Freya when you went there?”

Serval let out a nervous laugh and tried to brush it off. “That was a long time ago. I’ve cleaned up my act since then— it’ll be fine.”

Kallen gave her a look of disbelief. “Are you sure? You’re not exactly dressed like a St. Freya parent. The dyed hair isn’t very St. Freya either.”

Shit, she had a point there. Serval would have to get the blue parts of her hair dyed back to her natural blonde at some point before the interview. She could always get it redyed after. “Listen, I’m working on it. By the time of the interview, old man Otto won’t know what hit him.”

“I wish you luck with that, I’m sure you’ll need it.” She seemed to mean it earnestly, judging by her tone.

“Thanks.”

August 6, 1977

Kolosten, West Germany

“Is your father going to be okay with me being your date?” Cocolia asked as Serval drove the both of them to her parents’ party. She looked every bit like a member of the upper crust in her fancy medium length green dress with a slit for the left leg, elbow length white gloves, pearl necklace, purple teardrop earrings, and black heels.

“Oh, he almost certainly won’t, but it’s fine. Just my little way of getting back at him,” Serval said. “Besides, he never said my date had to be a man.”

“Serval, you made it!” Her father greeted as she and Cocolia entered the room where the party was being held. Unfortunate, as Serval had been hoping she and Cocolia could avoid her parents for at least a little bit. “I see you even got your hair back to its natural color. There may be hope for you yet. I’m afraid I don’t see a date though…”

Serval steeled herself for what she was about to say. “Actually, I did bring a date.”

Her father gave her a look of confusion. “Where? I see no man accompanying you.”

“My date isn’t a man. She’s my date,” Serval said, gesturing to Cocolia. “You never did say my date had to be a man.”

“Another woman?! Is this some kind of twisted joke?!” Her father said, clearly unamused.

“It’s no joke, father. She’s my girlfriend.”

“You mean you’re one of those queers?!” Like Serval expected, he was not taking the news well, but Serval also knew she couldn’t hide herself any longer. It was inevitable that she would either have to find a beard or suffer the consequences of coming out to her parents, and she had made her choice the moment she asked Cocolia to be her date.

“Yeah, I am. Is there a problem with that?”

“Of course there’s a problem with that! How are you supposed to give us grandchildren without a husband?” He was furious, but Serval refused to back down or give in.

“Well, she has a kid, so in a way, I already have.”

“That doesn’t count! You need to carry on the noble Landau family bloodline!”

“No I don’t! It’s not like I’m your only child.”

“Listen to me, Serval Landau! You are going to forget about whatever homosexual brainwashing you’ve been subjected to, and you are going to find yourself a husband, or we’ll find one for you. Do you understand me?”

Before Serval could even formulate a response, her father was suddenly slapped by Cocolia.

“You disgust me,” Cocolia spat at him. “How could you treat your daughter like this? She’s allowed to make her own decisions. She’s your child, not your property!”

Her father took a moment to recover from the slap before responding. “Not anymore she’s not. Serval, from this point forward, you’re a Landau no more. If you find yourself a husband, maybe I’ll let you back into my good graces, but until then, you won’t see a cent of your allowance!”

“Oh, so now you’re disowning her over it? If you ask me, fact that this so many in this country still hold such prejudices even after the days of the Nazis is a massive blight on our society!”

“Don't bring the Nazis into this! We're not rounding people up and putting them in camps anymore, we're a free democratic society now, at least over here in the West. It’s you disgusting homosexuals that are the blight on society!”

"Prejudice like that is exactly what led to the Nazis' rise to power in the first place! Let's not forget that while the Jewish people were the primary victims, homosexuals were also one of the groups they targeted! This country will never be able to move on from those days until we can move past all such prejudices!" Things had erupted into a shouting match, and while the situation was tense, Serval couldn't help but admire Cocolia's passion and sense of justice. She was definitely the kind of person she could fall in love with.

“Shut up! I don’t have to take this from degenerate heathens like you! What you do is a crime against nature and I will not have you corrupting my-”

His rant was interrupted by a punch from Cocolia that sent him flying into the table behind him, splitting it in two. It was incredibly hot.

“As far as I’m concerned, the only degenerate here is you, Mr. Landau. Come on Serval, let’s get out of here.” And with that, Cocolia roughly grabbed Serval’s hand and led the two of them outside. Once they were outside, Cocolia sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I should not have lost my cool like that.”

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up. I actually really admire what you did,” Serval assured her. “Thank you for sticking up for me like that.”

“Even still, I’ve spent years working on keeping my temper in check, so for it to come out like that… It feels like a step backwards for me.”

“Hey, we all have to let out our anger sometimes. That’s just part of being human. To be honest, I’m not even that upset about what happened. I always hated my dad anyway, so it honestly feels freeing to finally have him off my back. The only problem is… well, the workshop I run isn’t exactly profitable, and I was kinda relying on the family money to make ends meet.”

“Say no more. You can come live with Bronya and I. I should easily be able to provide for the three of us.”

Serval’s face lit up. “Really? You’d do that for me?”

“Of course.”

Serval hugged her. “Thank you, it means a lot to me.”

“Don’t mention it. To be honest, I was going to ask you to move in anyway. Raising a child by yourself is tough work, so I could use the extra help, and I think Bronya would be more likely to get into St. Freya if we actually lived together. St. Freya looks down on unmarried couples, and while getting legally married for us is impossible, I think they’d want us to at least socially consider each other a spouse.”

“You make a good point. Maybe we could even have a faux wedding that we invite close friends and family to, to really sell the ruse.”

“Good idea. Do you have anyone in mind you’d want to invite?”

“Well, Mom is out of the question, I have a better relationship with her than Dad, but his influence is strong enough that I don't think she would come, and Lynxy is still a minor and living with them, I doubt I could get her to come without Dad noticing and I'd hate to get her in trouble with him, but I do have one brother, Gepard, who I may want to invite, depending on how he reacts to the news. He and I don’t always see eye to eye on everything, but I don’t think he’d cut ties with me over this. He works for the Federal Foreign Office and is out of town right now, but he’s supposed to be back soon, so I’ll have to see what he thinks then.”

August 7, 1977

Kolosten, West Germany

“Welcome back, Gepard, how was the trip to France?” Franz, one of Gepard’s neighbors, greeted as he walked over to his apartment.

“It was great. Paris is a wonderful city, I’ll tell you all about it later,” Gepard assured him.

“I’ll look forward to it. Hey, have you heard about what happened to your sister yet?”

“I’m afraid I haven’t. Which sister? What happened?” Gepard asked, concerned.

“The older one, Serval. Apparently she has a girlfriend that she brought to one of you family's parties last night and your father disowned her over it.”

Gepard dropped his briefcase in shock.

“What?!”