Loving You is a Losing Game

𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔴𝔞𝔯

❝︎on the day you crossed the line, I found out love is war❞︎
— Scorpions

—
DES MOINES, IOWA
—

"He abdicated! Can you believe it? He knew the plan well and was the best for the job, but he left!"

"Al, calm down. Deep breaths. It's not the end of the world. Iowa has several other smart and attractive young men running around."

"Yes, but how are we supposed to make any of them into proper princes?'

"We won't need to make him a prince, that's Leonard's job."

"Yes, and it still has to be done. Audrey, it won't work."

At this, she decided it best to speak with her husband in the living room instead of hovering in the foyer.

She crossed into his private office, one of the few places none of the castle staff was allowed to enter.

Her husband was sitting at his desk, his head buried in his hands. She walked over and ran her fingers through the thick black locks, their natural coloring a mirror image of their son.

"There's gotta be a way around it. We'll find someone."

—
RIVERSIDE, IOWA
—

"Wanted: male; aged 17-21; patient; attractive; willing to woo a Vulcan prince"

"Now aren't they just incredibly far down in their recruiting quota. Peasants." Jim muttered to himself, tearing the flyer down.

He was about to shove it in his satchel, set on shredding it when he returned to the farm when he caught the cashier looking at him.

Taking a closer look, he realized it wasn't the same Tristan that he had become aquatinted with. No, this was someone entirely different. Someone who looked like they'd been named Christopher.

He had shaggy blonde hair and pool blue eyes that would've been attractive if he wasn't at least three times Jim's age.

Their staring contest lasted mere seconds before Jim realized who he was and skedaddled on out of there as if his life depended on it.

Who knew, maybe it did.

Gotta keep one jump ahead of the breadline, one swing ahead of the...

Of course.

The definitely-not-a-cashier grabbed his arm as he made a run for it, and no, it was not Tristan.

Not even close.

"Who are you," he spat, struggling to break free.

"Christopher Pike."

"Why are you here?"

"The king wishes to make your acquaintance."

"If this is about the flyer I just tore down, I'm sorry, but you've got the wrong guy."

"No, actually, I don't think I do."

He clapped his hands and, together, they disappeared in a flash of light.

—

"It's simple, Jim. Be polite, be proper, and never apologize for what you have."

He straightened the sleeves of his suit jacket with a wince. "Are you certain this is necessary?"

"Yes, Jim. As far as Vulcan is concerned, you are the heir to the Iowan throne. You can't allow them to doubt that."

"Why not?"

"If they doubt us, we're doomed."