Historical things means more research and less decisions, and since I should not be trusted with decisions, I suppose I must research.

0o0o0o

Gilbert stared out the window as he took classes and everybody knew it.

It wasn't like he couldn't help it. He could pay attention when he swung a sword. He knew he could outspar anyone in this class in minutes. Arithmetic was tiring and useless. He ground his quill into the paper and doodled a man on a bench outside the window.

'May I sit here?'

Gilbert looked away from the man on the bench. The young man-perhaps a boy, with that face-was dressed finely, and an ascot fluffed out from his collar. The sight made him smile.

'Nobody else is.'

He pulled up a chair and sat. His eyes were a startling colour, dark blue, or purple. 'It's true, then,' he said. 'You have a clever tongue.'

'More than that.' Gilbert resisted the urge to stick out his tongue and then thought better of it. The man's brow wrinkled, and Gilbert finally looked away from his strange purple eyes to his paper, though his doodle no longer seemed interesting and he folded it over. 'Don't I know you? The lieutenant, aren't you.'

The lieutenant raised an eyebrow. He looked pleased, but tried to hide it. Gilbert wanted to poke at him until he did, show a sharp and satisfied smile.

'I would say I know who you are, but that wouldn't be nearly so impressive, my prince,' he said.

'Not impressive. Necessary. You seem like someone I'd like to know,' Gilbert said. He thought of all the useless lists he'd been forced to memorize. 'Beilschmidt?' he teased. 'Edelstein?'

This time the pleasure at being acknowledged crept through his face, and he allowed himself a smile. 'Edelstein. It means gemstone.'

'I can see that,' Gilbert said, and he reddened underneath his ascot. 'What's your first name?'

'Pay attention,' the tutor called, and they snapped away from each other like children touching a hot iron, and gave each other secret looks as they bent over their maths.

Edelstein, Gilbert thought, hiding a smile. When he glanced to his right, he was there, his own smile half-hidden beneath his collar, and impulsively, Gilbert reached out to fold it down. He smiled at him, purple eyes bright, and Gilbert smiled back.

When the tutor called the end of class, Gilbert jumped up like a child, and he stood with him.

'Wait,' the tutor called. 'Prince Gilbert.'

'Yes?'

The tutor cast a glance at the man beside him. 'What are you doing here?' he asked. He opened his mouth, at a loss for answers, and disappeared out the door. The tutor turned back to Gilbert. 'We need to discuss your problem about looking out the window, sir.'

'I won't be looking out the window anymore,' Gilbert promised. Not when he could talk to Edelstein. The tutor opened his mouth to argue, but Gilbert was gone, tying his cloak haphazardly around his chest as he went.

Gilbert found him on the bench he'd been sketching, sorting through his papers.

'Hello,' Gilbert greeted, sitting down beside him. 'I'll apologize for the old man for getting interrupted. What's your name?'

'I…' Another small, satisfied smile. 'I'm Roderich Edelstein, my prince.'

'I'm Gilbert Beilschmidt. Just Gilbert.' Gilbert tried to put on an innocent face. 'Je pense que votre nom est joli, Roderich.'

'Je suis heureux de vous rencontrer aussi, Gilbert.' Roderich said. 'Your name is pretty as well.'

Gilbert could feel himself flushing red up to the collar. He felt like grabbing Roderich's hand and laughing so loud his sister would hear in his excitement.

'You know French!'

'My father insisted I learn it.' Roderich looked away and fiddled with his ascot. 'I don't think he ever thought I'd be speaking it to the prince.'

'I'm glad he did. And I'm glad you did. Speak to me, that is. Roderich.' Gilbert stuck out his hand. Roderich barely hesitated before taking it. His hands were callused in all the places Gilbert's weren't.

0o0o0o

Roderich went home thinking about the crown prince. His laugh and his strange teasing, the lines on his hands and of his smile. The breadth of his shoulders in the cloak. He sighed and set down his sword. Now was not a time to think of that. He should be practicing strategies or fencing or anything of the sort, and yet all he did was sit down at his desk and draw aimlessly, crossing out attempts at military positions and equations. The only line that stayed was Gilbert's words.

Je pense que votre nom est joli, Roderich.

He examined the words and with a groan, scratched through them as well. He pushed back his chair, tossed his jacket on the bed, and strode outside with his sword.

In the grassy meadow behind his quarters, he held his sword at ready and then let himself parry and feint, imagining a horde of opponents in front of him. His father had never thought much of his prowess with music or art or language, but this, at least, was passable. His ability to envision his opponents as clearly as if they were real, his speed and focus. This, at least, raised him in the military ranks. This focused all the prickling, hot energy that Gilbert had sparked into smooth, perfect strokes. It was a rich and cold happiness, and he felt steady again as he slowed to a stop.

'They said you were talented.'

Roderich turned and barely caught himself trying to push back his rumpled hair.

'Hello, Gilbert.'

The prince looked at him with a curling smile, and Roderich was suddenly aware of his thin undershirt. 'You are. Talented, that is.'

'Thank you.' Roderich swallowed, wishing for water. 'People say you're a masterful swordsman as well.'

'Are you asking me to duel?' Gilbert asked. Roderich blanched, but Gilbert held up his hands. 'I'm teasing,' he assured him. His strange reddish eyes crinkled around the corners. Roderich coughed and sheathed his sword.

'Sorry, my pri-Gilbert.'

Gilbert smiled, eager and bright like a child. 'You do not know how good it is to hear you call me that. My name. I'm always just called by my title.' He stopped and his smile faded. 'I shouldn't be complaining.'

'You shouldn't,' Roderich said. Gilbert's eyes snapped up to his, and Roderich froze.

Gilbert came closer, almost hesitant, and touched his wrist. His skin was cool and soft.

'Would you want to be a prince, Roderich?'

'I-' Roderich swallowed. 'I'm sorry for offending you.'

'No, don't apologize. I want to know. If you had the choice to be a prince, would you take it?' His fingers curled around Roderich's wrist. 'Tell me not as lieutenant and prince but as...equals. Please. I won't be angry.'

'I would,' Roderich said. Gilbert smiled and ran a hand through his hair.

'We could switch lives. But you'd have to handle my father, and I wouldn't wish him on you.'

They stand close for a moment more and Roderich does not want to back away. Gilbert does not, either. Roderich speaks first.

'Why are you here, Gilbert?'

'I don't know. I was wandering and saw you. Forgive me.' Gilbert held up his hands, the palms startlingly white. 'Besides, if God really does plan everything out, then I must obviously have a reason.'

'Don't let the priests hear you say that,' Roderich said drily. Gilbert laughed suddenly.

'Oh, they'd get after me for more than blaspheming the name of the Father.' He gripped Roderich's hands. 'Kissing girls behind the blacksmith's, maybe.'

For some reason he can't explain, Roderich felt angry, and pulled his hands away.

'Would you like to come in?' he asked, trying to damp down the sudden anger. Gilbert looked at him strangely, but nodded.

It was a surreal thing to have the prince of Prussia sitting on his study desk, all strange angles and craned neck. If he was wearing a crown, it would be crooked. Looking at him, Roderich was suddenly seized by the terror that he knew nothing about Gilbert, nothing so much as his favourite colours or his thoughts. He knew what had been offered, and that was a strange young man with a clever tongue and a penchant for impunity and impulse.

'What are you looking at?' Gilbert asked. Roderich forced his eyes back to his scribbled-over maths, and folded over the crossed-through line about his name.

'You're the crown prince. You can't expect people not to stare.'

'Girls do that.' Gilbert swung his legs, and Roderich felt that strange anger again. 'I might be the crown prince, but I'd like to think we're...equals.'

'You can't just raise a lieutenant to the level of prince with your words, Gilbert,' Roderich said, fighting a smile.

'Well, what if it works the other way around?' Gilbert ran a hand through his perfect hair and rumpled it backwards. 'I wouldn't be opposed to it.' His eyes flicked up and caught Roderich, intent, fiery.

'I'd have thought you'd be at the castle. Training to be king,' Roderich said, trying to change the subject. Gilbert groaned and leaned back, slumping against the wall.

'I should be.'

'Are you supposed to be in the castle right now, Gilbert?' Roderich asked in panic. Gilbert sat up.

'I'm supposed to stay in the castle if I'm not in class or training for my safety, but I sneak out and run.' Gilbert looked guilty. 'You won't tell anyone?'

'Never,' Roderich swore. Gilbert smiled at him, not sharp nor excitable, but soft and warm.

'Thank you.'

Roderich offered him a smile back, and Gilbert jumped down from the desk.

'I promise you, you wouldn't want to be a prince,' he said, pulling Roderich up from his desk. 'It's a life of too much, endlessly, over and over.'

'Would you rather be a lieutenant?' Roderich asked. Gilbert took his hands and spun him around, cloak fluttering in their wake.

'I think I might. But we can't change how we were born, Roderich.' A strange, quick glance. 'You know that, right?'

'I do,' Roderich said, completely unsure. Gilbert's mouth twitched and he spun them in another circle until Roderich laughed.

'Roderich Edelstein,' Gilbert said, smiling broadly. 'If you were a prince and I were a lieutenant, I would swear loyalty to you.' He let go suddenly and dropped to a knee, and the noise of the summer afternoon went suddenly muffled in Roderich's ears.

'Get up,' he urged, looking towards the door. 'That's treasonous.'

Gilbert rose. 'I didn't think,' he admitted.

'You never seem to.'

'Is that a good thing?' Gilbert asked, eyes sparkling, and despite himself, despite the remnants of the terror, the word treason, Roderich couldn't help but laugh again.

'I think it is.'

'You should be careful of that,' Gilbert warned teasingly. 'Too much of a good thing can turn people to idiocy.'

'You've got enough for the both of us,' Roderich said, and realized his mistake a second too late. He'd called the crown prince an idiot. 'Gilbert, I'm sorry-'

'I like you like that.' Gilbert smiled and Roderich stared and for a second, all that existed was them. 'It's okay, Roderich. You don't need to walk on glass around me. I'm not nearly as much of a hurricane as you think.'

But he was as wonderful and wild as one, Roderich stopped himself from saying, and he was enchanted.

0o0o0o

I don't get to choose how everything happens, but Frederick and Hans read like a fairy tale.

:: Reading late into the night until all is silent