Fun fact of the day: the actual third-oldest university in the UK was built in Northampton, but its founder went against the Monarchy, so the King had it demolished, which is why Durham has the current third-oldest British university.

The moral of the story: the Monarchy actually just hates Northamptonshire.

And Princess Diana (RIP) spent an awful lot of her life in Northamptonshire and look what happened to her. :(

Aaaaaaaand Northamptonshire's (conservative) government was stealing money from child services and other forces, so had to be reformed in 2018, so maybe Britain hates her too.

But anyway, I'll get on with it, shall I?

"Darling," Cambridge sighed, "I don't think that's possible..."

"It's our only hope... And if we get caught, the consequences will be the same anyway..." Northamptonshire answered, visibly rather pale, as if hating herself for what she had just suggested.

"And... How do we explain this to England?" Nottingham asked, glancing out of the room and shooing the curious child away from their meeting.

"We could just tell him everything... He's old enough to understand..." York shrugged.

"Well yes, but I believe he's rather fond of Miss London," Cambridgeshire told him, "Rumour has it, she's his mother too..."

"ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT MEEEEE?" England yelled from wherever he had scampered off to.

"A bit..." Cambridge answered him uneasily, "We need to talk to you about something..."

"Oooh, a meeting!" England grinned, promptly galloping up the stairs and plopping himself down on the bed beside Northamptonshire. "What's happening?"

"Well..." York smiled uneasily at him, "I accidentally told London some confidential details... And we need to stop her telling the Monarchy."

"Ok..." England blinked confusedly, "Are you going to... Um... Give her a magic forgetfulness potion? I can buy ingredients!"

"I'm not a... w-witch. Of course not," York shivered, glaring at England.

"But how will you..?"

"We think," Northamptonshire finished, "We need to kidnap her and keep her here for a while."

"Um... Ok..." England nodded slowly, "Don't hurt her, she was the only one that was nice to me at home..."

"We'll try not to," Nottingham smiled reassuringly, squeezing his hands gently. "Promise not to tell?"

"Promise..."

"Thanks, Mini-Knight!"

"You're welcome, ...Crazy Lady!" Giggling despite his concern, England skipped back out of the room, leaving everyone feeling slightly more relaxed than before.

"...Maybe I didn't make such a giant error..." York muttered to himself, grinning smugly at whatever thought had just occurred to him.

"What do you mean, this could be a total deal-breaker!"

"Well... Judging by what was said at our final meeting with the Monarchy, I think he might already know about your love for Northamptonshire..."

"I wouldn't be surprised," Cambridge conceded, "However, this could be used as evidence against us, and he seems to already be furious... I dread to think what he could do to us..."

"Speaking of which," Nottingham interjected, "If you two are banned from his courts and I'm an outlaw anyway, who is going to get London?"

"The people York told might be contenders!" Cambridgeshire grinned, "At the very least, Lincoln and Lincolnshire could probably be swayed in our favour from what I've heard!"

"I love your optimism, brother," Cambridge frowned, "but the neutral counties are unlikely to put themselves in harm's way quite that simply... We're lucky to have the support we do, to be perfectly honest..."

"Then we're going!" Northampton declared, causing everyone stood in front of him to jump out of their skin. "As long as we're careful, we could sneak in, get her, then leave without meeting anyone I expect."

"A spy mission?!" York beamed, eyes lighting up at the prospect of becoming ye olde James Bond.

"Precisely."

"...You could sound a bit more enthusiastic-"

"I'm too sick of existence to be enthusiastic. Shut up."

"Are you ok?"

"Utterly dead inside, thank you for asking."

***

Tucked away in the bushes opposite Buckingham Palace crouched two cities and a town, dressed in the most regal outfits you ever did see, laced with silver and purple beads, sewn from cloths that enveloped their figures and hid a portion of their faced behind the luxurious purple satin. Their hats were forged from velvet and purest swan feathers, decorated with tasteful black ribbons and extravagant brims that shadowed their eyes, hiding their identities as much as was possible. In this get-up, they could pass as human Lords without too much questioning, or so they hoped.

"Are you both ready?" Cambridge whispered, straightening his cloak.

"Ready," York giggled, "...You look like Oxford, though."

"Please never say that again," Cambridge grimaced, disgusted at the comparison, "Northampton, are you ready?"

"Yes, boss," Northampton smirked, observing the apprehension on Cambridge's face.

"Good. Now the plan is-"

"We enter though the side door, head for the toilet block but turn a sharp left and loop back on ourselves. We then walk up the corridor and you knock on the door at the bottom of the spiral staircase. As London opens it, you step backwards and we step out from either side of the door and grab her. You knock her out, and we drag her out through her office window." The other two chorused, grinning at each other. "We know."

"Ok... Let's go..."

As planned, the three pulled open the side door, tiptoeing out into the vast corridor, breathing a collective sigh of relief. Frowning with concentration, Cambridge glanced in each direction, crossing the corridor and giving this accomplices a thumbs-up. The other two followed, whispering to each other, adrenaline coursing through their veins-

"Well, well, well! You lords are a little late!" a mischievous voice chuckled from behind them, seemingly popping out of thin air. Great.

"What do you mean, Sir?" Northampton replied in the most innocent, confused voice he could muster.

"Those outfits went out of use months ago. And there aren't many people 'round here that would call a butler 'Sir'. Interesting."

Perfect. Cornwall being a smartarse, exactly what they needed.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Mr... Devon." Northampton stressed the final word, smiling innocently as she witnessed Cornwall's expression go from smug to downright furious.

"NOW I KNOW YOU'RE PUTTING IT ON, YOU MOTHERF*****R-"

"Great. You blew it!" Cambridge hissed, kicking Northampton in the shins.

"I'LL CALL HIS MAJESTY ON YOU RIGHT THIS SECOND, YOU TRAITOROUS VERMIN! Unless-"

"Unless what?" Cambridge sighed, accepting that whatever deal Cornwall had in mind was their only hope of escape from the enemy's cruel grasp.

"Thirty pieces of silver."

"...Isn't that what Judas was paid?" York raised an eyebrow at the smug butler county.

"Would you rather be thrown in prison?"

"Fine," Cambridge interrupted abruptly, fishing around in his pocket and pulling out a leather pouch, "I trust your integrity, so take this and keep your mouth shut."

"And this contains..?"

"Thirty-seven silver pieces. More than enough to buy your silence."

"Then you have yourself a deal, good Sir!" Bowing and saluting the trio, Cornwall wandered off down the corridor, slipping the blackmail profits into his trouser pocket.

Stunned, York whispered, "How did you have-?"

"I anticipated this, he's always been a nosy beggar," Cambridge muttered, "What he doesn't know is that I gave him silver-coated limestone that I borrowed from Derby last week."

Sniggering, the three continued their stroll, quickly reaching London's office and peeking through the keyhole to be certain that this was indeed the correct room.

"It's her office," Cambridge muttered, "But she's not in..."

"What do we do now?" Northampton asked, eyes darting around the palace.

"Um..."

"May I help you?" came a curt, icy voice from behind them.

"Ah, Miss London!" Cambridge smiled, desperately hoping that she hadn't recognised them and kneeling down to kiss her hand.

"...Oxford, what are you doing?!" she snapped, causing York to nearly burst out laughing. But honestly, Cambridge did look a lot like Oxford, so London couldn't be blamed.

"I was simply... NOW, MEN!"

At that call, York grabbed London from behind, stuffing his hand in her mouth as he did, preventing her screams from leaving her lungs. Northampton promptly grabbed her feet, allowing Cambridge to punch her in the forehead, knocking her unconscious immediately. As quickly as he could, Cambridge opened the nearest window, leaping through it and signalling for the others to lower London through it. As soon as they did - which was surprisingly quickly - they fled into the evening haze, precious cargo safely in hand.