Juliet's Surrender [Juliet's Tryst #2]

Chapter 20: Let's Do It Over Zoom

Each morning, a small knock came at to her door. A middle school aged girl held three square meals perfectly squared into reusable tupper-ware containers. A ravenous hunger overtook Juliet's life, and the meals were far too small. However, this was the solitude she craved in the palace. In many ways, despite Dee's raging protection, the new Queen had been the property of the staff. Someone always coming and going, in the halls and in her room. A constant buzz, at any moment someone could pop in. Before she got pregnant, it had been mundane things. Changing sheets. Cleaning the spotless room. Then, it was medications. So many sorts of infused waters. Alone in the middle of nowhere in Japan, she felt the same. Bigger. Expanding. But no different than when under the supervision of the good doctor. Here, she could sit in her underwear and rot away watching historical dramas.

There was a lot of time to think, and from this, came a little bit of sense. Wallowing in the enormity of the task, and decrying herself the sole victim of it all was getting her no closer to the goal. She had to think of actions. Forward steps. To get to the forward steps, she would have to look at the situation without emotion. There were three things she knew to be true. One, a dictator had taken over the world. Two, under this dictatorship people and Kyrion alike were dying senselessly. Three, she might be the only one who could do anything about it. Of course, the moment she thought about how that dictator was her wife, or how she brought this dictatorship into fruition herself, any logical thought ceased. Emotional goo made her nauseous now, something she was sure was an effect of the pregnancy.

The birth. Why hadn't she figured out how that was supposed to happen? (At home, it would have been taken care of.) Did a Kyrion child just slide out like a human one? Would it be an Alien situation? At that thought, Juliet shuddered and decided that in that case, it was probable that neither mother or infant would survive.

She had been so focused on sacrifice, love and the loss of her childhood that she neglected to look at the tools before her. To her relief, the toolbox was decidedly not empty. She could try convince Dee to stop killing people. This was unlikely to work, given that she had not even after marrying a human. The second way was to force Dee to stop. While she had powers, they were only useful when the goddesses that bestowed them wanted them to be. She was a pawn to them, so she had to jump off of the board. How this was to be achieved? She had no idea. The most logical and human way was to do it through religion. Kyrion technology was strong, but its propaganda and mystique was far stronger. This would be the best bet. Juliet had to step out onto the world stage on her own, and preach a message of peace. It would be a fishing net. And those with means, those that believed in her message would come. Now, the only thing to do was to figure out how to do that. Past that? Only Kyria knew.

***

Caspian sat primly in the meeting room, a laptop placed neatly to his right. The circumstances were decidedly not ideal. That morning, Juliet woke with a bout of morning-sickness so violent that a nearby doctor had to be called to confirm she was not dying. Thankfully, it was tortuous but not deadly.

"Why's she dressed like that?" His neat suit crinkled in the silent room as he pointed a knuckle. Morgana gave him a look so homicidal that he shrank down. "It's just that it was part of the agreement that she look quote healthy." This forced her to quell a puff of self-disgust. She was a bloated toad, and her face was the only thing that didn't show it. The rest was covered in loose maternity wear, all floral print and promise of baby spit.

"She gets what she gets," Morgana said through gritted teeth. Juliet plopped in front of the computer, her stomach large enough that it need to be shifted a comfortable position. On the screen was a calendar, and on the current time is showed what was simply called "Caspian's Zoom Room".

"Hello, my alara," said Dee. She defied every expectation. There was no dictator garb. No throne. No guards. It was just her, sitting in a white tank top. Nothing more than a woman. Even here and now, Juliet had to stop a moment to admire the way her muscled shoulders rippled as she shifted the computer into place.