A/N: For helmistress who requested #19: "I can't stay away from you."

A/N2: Thank you forever to Ro, my beta reader.

A/N3: Bride Shows are a real THING that they used to do in Russia, but I've changed it up a lot.

Warnings: AU, angst, language, sex

Pairings: 6x3, Rx?

Careless

"Your Majesties, may I present Prince Quatre?"

The receiving hall was, predictably, packed. All of the Sanq courtiers had managed to find an excuse to be in the city proper instead of tending to their estates, and a fair few visiting nobles, merchants and diplomats were elbowing each other for a better view as well.

The Bride Show was, after all, typically a once-in-a-decade experience, and no one wanted to miss it.

Nevermind the fact that there were no brides on display.

But the council, filled with old men who still held out hope that the heir to the throne would come to his senses and reject this foolish notion of stepping aside and allowing his sister to take the throne, had insisted that it was still a Bride Show and would always be a Bride Show.

The fair skinned, fair haired young man who approached the dais and the thrones occupied by the Prince and Princess Royal of Sanq projected an air of confidence and sincerity.

"What do you think?" Relena murmured, her gaze still straight ahead and her lips barely moving. A lifetime of being on display had taught them both not to make their thoughts or words obvious to anyone but themselves.

"Not to my tastes. Yours?" Zechs responded, looking the man over closely. He was vaguely familiar, and Zechs was sure he had seen him at one of the tournaments. His kingdom, a vast, sprawling dynasty that encompassed a brutal desert and well-placed ports, was one of Sanq's major trading partners. An alliance with him would be immensely profitable.

"He's pretty," Relena said, which meant nothing.

After bowing, Winner backed away and took his place in the long row of potential mates.

The entire process was a tedious affair - Zechs still remembered the Bride Show for his father, put off after the death of his first wife and mother of his children for five years before the nobles had grown anxious enough to force the issue. Zechs had been on the cusp of manhood, not yet fourteen, and irritated to have been pulled from his military exercises to stand beside his father and watch the parade of women who would never compare to his mother.

One by one, the gems from each kingdom or noble family came forward for their formal introduction. Later in the evening, there would be a ball, and the next day would be a series of awkward social events designed to give the Council's favorite candidates time to win over the heir, followed by yet another ball, and then another day of such things until, presumably, Relena picked her future husband and the rest were dismissed.

The Bride Show for their father had lasted for three weeks before the Council gave up and sent all of the women away, agreeing to leave Marticus alone.

Zechs fervently hoped that Relena didn't take too long to select her choice.

Then again, if she was lucky, she would be stuck with the man for the rest of their lives. It wasn't a decision to make lightly.

Still, Zechs wished he could be anywhere else. He knew why his presence was required - he was, after all, still the official heir, and would remain so until their father died and he was allowed to abdicate in her favor. As such, Relena was required to take his preferences into consideration for her choice - and even though they both knew that if Zechs felt suicidal enough to tell Relena who she should marry she would quickly disabuse him of any delusions of controlling her - appearances needed to be maintained. And, he suspected, the Council were hoping that one of the men paraded before his sister would catch his eye as well.

Doubtful, considering that Zechs's tastes ran towards soldiers, and not these soft fops in their velvet clothes, dripping jewels and pleasant manners.

"Prince Wufei."

The dark haired man was well-known to Zechs, who had spent time as a ward of the Long Clan as a child. They had not gotten along well as children, and, despite the man's intelligence and unexpected prowess as a warrior, Zechs had no interest in him.

Relena, on the other hand, looked intrigued for the first time today.

Zechs was sorely tempted to warn her off - Wufei Chang was, to put it mildly, combative. Zechs couldn't imagine a lifetime spent with the difficult man.

But, if he told Relena Wufei was off-limits, she would no doubt select him immediately.

So Zechs decided to hold his peace.

"Lord Maxwell."

The long-haired man was only barely of a high enough social class to merit an invitation to the Bride Show. As usual, he flaunted every convention and, instead of bowing at the foot of the dais, he loped up the stairs and bowed in front of Relena with a flourish.

"Your Majesty."

Relena rolled her eyes and held out her hand for Maxwell to kiss.

He then turned to Zechs and waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Maxwell wasn't an option, for either Relena or Zechs - the Council would revolt if a first generation nobleman was chosen as a royal consort - but he had been an enjoyable liaison.

Zechs held his hand out, and Maxwell grinned before pressing a kiss to his knuckles, lips lingering longer than was polite.

The Chief Councilor noisily cleared his throat, and Maxwell backed away.

"You should do it," Relena said to Zechs once the man had taken his place in the line.

"I already have," Zechs replied.

Relena caught herself on a laugh.

"I meant you should marry him. You're already abdicating the throne - marry who you want."

Zechs considered the possibility.

But he knew, even if he wasn't right for the throne, that his future was closely tied to that of the Sanq kingdom and the protection of his sister and their royal line. Maxwell, with his distant holding along the coast and his questionable political leanings, would be a terrible match.

"No, I think he's only here to irk the Council. But, if you fancy a distraction from the rest of them, I highly recommend him."

Relena's cheeks flushed, but she didn't respond to him.

"Duke… Barton."

The hall erupted in exclamations of shock.

Shock that Zechs shared.

Standing there without a care in the world, as if he didn't notice or likely didn't care that the Royal Guard had all reached for their weapons and he was in a room full of enemies, Trowa Barton stepped up to present himself.

The Bartons, that troublesome clan that, according to them, had a claim to the throne just as valid as the Peacecraft claim, had lived in near exile for the last twenty years. They had revolted - as they seemed destined to do every two or three generations - and been soundly defeated, their best lands seized and their army disbanded.

Notes: I have literally NO idea where I thought I would take this. It was definitely something along the lines of Trowa being there to plot the overthrow of the Peacecraft line, but I have no idea how I was going to get it there.