A/N - Posted in honour of Zechs x Treize day - 13/6. Sad, aren't I?

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Treize stared at his reflection in the antique full-length mirror that occupied one corner of his dressing room, settling his ornate coat more comfortably on his shoulders. For all his reputation as a man who was elegant almost to the point of being foppish, he had never been fond of full Dress Uniform. The blue tail coat he wore from day to day was as ostentatious as one could get and still be reasonably called suitable dress for a soldier – it, at least, had full breeches and decent boots.

A knock on his door distracted him from scowling at his reflection and he called for the person to enter as he crossed the room to his dressing table.

The door swung open to admit Zechs, looking perfectly comfortable in his own Uniform, despite the fact that it was, if such a thing were possible, even more eye catching than Treize's own. The general might have to contend with more braid, but the pilot's jacket was as bright a red as his ordinary coat.

"Do you ever feel a need to call out the person responsible for saddling us with these things?" Treize grumbled, as he fastened the silver buckles of his flimsy-feeling dancing shoes over the top of his white silk stockings.

Zechs shrugged. "Not really." He looked down at his own knee breeches and stockings. "It's not really any more uncomfortable than any of our uniforms."

Treize shot him a smile. "That's true." He ran his eyes over the younger man. "It suits you at least."

The smile was returned. "I could say the same about you. It could be worse."

"How?"

"You could be the age of Duke Dermail. You're young, at least."

"Thank the Lord for small mercies!" Treize straightened and picked up his cloak from the bed, swinging it over his left shoulder with a flourish, draping the heavy navy fabric perfectly over his dark blue jacket with its silver braiding and fur-edged collar.

Zechs handed him his white gloves and smiled at him. "Stop grumbling. It does look good on you and you know it, or you wouldn't have insisted on full Dress for your Ball."

The general raised an eyebrow, eyes glinting mischievously. "That might be true. Or perhaps I did it knowing that, most likely, you and I will be the only ones in the room tonight who won't look completely foolish."

"That, too."

Treize laughed, fastened his new sword into place on his hip, and then slid his hand through the younger man's arm and steered him towards the door. "Come along, I have to make sure the ballroom is ready."

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An hour and a half later, Zechs stood in the shadows of the drapes drawn over one of the French windows and watched as his friend greeted his guests, wine glass in one hand, the other gesturing as he laughed at something an officer's wife had said.

Warmth against his elbow made him turn his head and he looked down to see Noin standing by his side. He smiled down at her, running his eyes over her slender form in its close-fitting black dress, the amethyst bracelet sparkling on her wrist as she sipped from her champagne flute.

She was returning the favour, running her violet eyes over his body with a small smile.

"There are times I am so glad that women can choose not to wear uniform to things like this," she commented with a wicked grin.

Zechs shrugged, much as he had to Treize earlier. "I honestly don't mind."

"You look good in it, that's why."

"So does Treize, but he was complaining before we came downstairs."

Noin glanced over at the general, letting her gaze take in his trim figure from head to toe and silently admitting to herself that Une could have worse taste in men. "I know Lady Une thinks he does…" she murmured.

"Doubtless."

Noin looked up at her friend, taken aback. His voice had taken on the same chill it had held during breakfast and she wondered, not for the first time, what had happened between Une and her classmate to cause this level of animosity.

"Zechs… don't you think they're a good match?" she asked as the older woman approached the general and was greeted with a warm smile.

"Everybody else seems to think so – who am I to disagree?" he told her, his voice devoid of all feeling. "Excuse me."

She watched in surprise as he strode across the room and disappeared through a little door tucked away in a corner.

For a moment, she debated following him, then she shrugged to herself and turned to watch her commanding officer lead Une onto the dance floor.

The older woman looked spectacular tonight, even if Noin did say so herself. Their combined efforts and about three hours of preparation had resulted in an attractiveness Noin had never seen from the stern Colonel before. Her dusky pink gown floated around her petite figure, a perfect foil for her chocolate eyes and rich hair and for the gem of the pendant around her slender throat. It went beautifully, too, with the deep blue of her partner's Dress jacket and as they danced together, Noin could see approving glances from the other guests as they followed their host's lead and took to the floor.

Until the spate of functions they had been forced to attend a month or so before, Noin had never seen the point of all the dancing lessons the Academy had inflicted upon them as cadets beyond being a rather inefficient way of keeping them in good shape. Two weeks of attending Balls at the Specials Headquarters had changed her mind and, if anything, had convinced her that the lessons offered weren't sufficient. The vast majority of the cadets in her class hadn't been able to dance a step when they joined the Academy, aristocrats or no, and would have gone on to humiliate themselves utterly as they increased in rank.

She would be willing to bet her next promotion that Treize hadn't needed those lessons.

Moving around the edges of the room to refresh her drink, she watched her commander as he led Lady Une through the opening waltz without putting a foot in the wrong place or hesitating once, and smiled as she caught sight of the other woman's face.

Sipping the foam from her new drink, she glanced around and saw that Zechs had come back into the ballroom through a different door and was now standing by the main entrance, apparently engaged in conversation with Duke Dermail, who had obviously just arrived with his grey-haired wife and what appeared to be their children.

"Excuse me," she murmured to the people she brushed past as she made her way to her classmate's side.

Zechs tilted his head in the way she knew meant he had looked down at her, despite the fact that his helmet prevented her from seeing his eyes, and took her hand to tuck it into his arm, squeezing slightly in silent apology for abandoning her.

She smiled up at him and then looked to the new arrivals as he introduced her.

"Your Excellency, Lady – this is Captain Lucrezia Noin. Noin, Duke and Duchess Dermail."

Noin dropped into a curtsey, dipping her head and lowering her eyes – in every way that counted, this couple was her social superior, and would have been even if they hadn't been members of her host's family and old enough to be her Grandparents.

"Lovely, Zechs."

The old lady's voice was as thin as tissue paper but her skin was warm through her gloves when she touched Noin's shoulder, granting her permission to rise from her curtsey. Noin stood, smile still firmly in place.

"…a classmate of mine from the Academy, Duchess," Zechs was explaining.

"Why do you young men always go for the military girls?"

Quiet applause made Noin turn her head. The dance had finished and as she watched, Treize bowed to Une, escorted her to a seat against the wall, and then crossed the room, taking the steps two at a time to come to a halt in front of Dermail and repeat his bow.

"My apologies for not being here to greet you, sir."

"Nonsense, boy. It's entirely our fault for being late. Zechs met us at the door. He was just introducing us to his friend."

Treize glanced over his shoulder at the two younger officers with a raised eyebrow before turning back to his Aunt and bowing again. "Hello, Aunt."

To Noin's surprise, the Duchess reached up and enfolded Treize in her arms for a moment before letting him go and taking her husband's arm. "It's lovely to see you looking so well, my dear, and so handsome. Your parents would be proud." She turned her attention up to her husband. "Shall we, dear?"

Dermail escorted her down the steps, leaving the three officers facing the pair Noin had assumed were the Duke's children.

A young man and a girl, perhaps ten years apart in age, yet clearly brother and sister, both in civilian clothes and both displaying the split-ended eyebrows that marked them as related to her commanding officer. In fact, the resemblance between the general and the other man was rather startlingly strong.

"Did you like the wine?" the man asked and Treize smiled.

"Yes, Timothy. Did you?"

"You know I did!"

The two of them laughed then, shaking hands firmly, almost mirror images of each other but for their clothes.

"See, that's why I left the military," Timothy continued, glancing between his… cousin? Noin wondered… and Zechs. "I'm much too fond of proper trousers!"

The girl at his side snorted, drawing all eyes to her.

"Dorothy," Treize greeted, but there was something in his voice that had Noin thinking that he didn't particularly like the girl.

She swept a perfect curtsey, her simple dress clinging to a figure that was only halfway developed, her long, white-blond hair a silky sheet down her straight spine. Noin shot a look between it and Zechs's, confirming that it was the same shade.

"Thank you for the Christmas present, Uncle."

"I'm glad you liked it."

"Yes. I liked yours too, Zechs."

"I had hoped you would."

Trieze opened his mouth to speak but shut it again when the girl stepped past him and offered her hand to Noin.

"I'm Dorothy Catalonia. It's lovely to meet you, Captain Noin."

Surprised, Noin took the hand, studying the girl closely.

"Could you show me where to get a drink? If I have to wait for one of these three, I'll be waiting all evening!" She swept past Noin and down the stairs as though it were her house.

Noin cast a frantic glance at her commander, who was coughing into his hand, received his nod of approval and followed the girl.

"Tactful as ever, Doro!" Timothy called after them, rolling his eyes.

Treize shook his head, giving Zechs a rueful glance. "I did try to warn you."

Zechs shrugged. "I like her. She's a blessed relief from all the posturing."

Timothy smiled at him, gesturing as wildly as he could given he was wearing full evening dress complete with white bow tie. "Each to their own, I suppose. I'll be glad when she grows up a little. Maybe then she'll lose her obsession with war. Your Noin doesn't know it yet but she's about to get the life plagued out of her." The diplomat's smile broadened into a grin as he looked at the younger man. "Speaking of Captain Noin, wherever did you meet her?" he asked.

Zechs's mouth twitched. "As I told the Duchess, she graduated one place behind me at the Academy."

"She really was your classmate? Damn! How did you get that, when I got stuck with him?!" Timothy pointed at the general, who looked offended.

"Aren't you supposed to be a diplomat?" Treize asked, voice dry.

"Supposedly, though you wouldn't know it from the rate my career is progressing." Timothy paused, losing his smile as he swallowed hard. "Speaking of careers," he continued, "I never had the chance to congratulate you on your promotion. Grandfather was delighted when he received the news that they'd chosen you and I know Father always intended for you to be his successor."

The older officer inclined his head gravely. "Thank you Timothy," he murmured.

There was a moment of a silence between them, in which Zechs remembered that General Catalonia, the man whose unexpected death had made Treize Zechs's Commander-in-Chief, had also been Timothy's father, and then they were moving, down the steps and into the ballroom proper.

"Find yourself a drink, Timothy, and then I'll introduce you to the people you don't know," Treize instructed.

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Zechs led Noin through the dance they were sharing on autopilot, years of practice allowing his feet to fall into the steps without his conscious attention, listening to her talking about Dorothy, murmuring occasionally in the spaces she left, all the while keeping his attention on Treize, who was partnering Une across the floor.

As the evening had progressed, the older and more infirm members of the party, and those guests who simply disliked dancing for whatever reason, had retired from the floor, their obligatory dances done, to play cards and gossip. As the mix of people changed, the orchestra positioned on the raised platform at the opposite end of the room from the main doors had adapted, changing the selection of dances they performed from gentle waltzes and stately foxtrots to faster rhythms such as the quickstep they were currently playing.

Couples swirled across the floor in time – for the most part – to the music, flashing bright colours, intricate hairstyles, painted faces and a not-so-small fortune in jewellery. For a moment, the flow of movement summoned old memories and Zechs stumbled in his footwork as he fought down a wave of images.

Treize caught the mistake from the corner of his eye and turned Une in his arms so he could watch his friend properly. The dance came to an end and he bowed to the Lady, and then cast a glance at the orchestra leader, nodding once.

Taking his cue from his employer, the conductor gestured for the musicians under his direction to breathe for a moment as they changed sheet music, and, in some cases, instruments.

"Lady, I don't believe you like the Latin dances, do you?" the general asked Une as he released her from his hold and she shook her head.

"Not most of them, no, sir."

"Allow me to get you a drink, then."

She nodded her agreement and he escorted her from the floor, snagging her a glass from a passing waiter as they walked.

Having seen her settled, he made his way back across the emptying floor and tapped Zechs on the shoulder.

The younger man looked at him and smiled. "Hello."

"Zechs. May I steal your partner for the next dance?"

The pilot blinked. "Of course."

"Lucrezia?"

"I'd be honoured, sir. May I have a moment?" she asked.

"Certainly." Treize watched her disappear into the crowd and then put his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Is something wrong? I saw you stumble."

"No, just thinking too much."

"About what?"

"The past. It doesn't matter."

The hand tightened. "Are you sure? Do you need…?"

Zechs smiled. "Treize, you have two-hundred-and-fifty guests in this room, you can't leave!"

"I wouldn't be missed for a good fifteen minutes at least," the older man corrected.

"And what about Noin? You asked her for the next dance."

"I'm sure she'd understand. No? Alright. Forgive me for usurping your partner, then, but the band is about to switch to Latin dances and Une dislikes them."

The pilot smiled again. "So do I. Believe me, Noin will be grateful for a partner who doesn't stand on her feet."

Treize laughed. "I've never seen you stand on anyone's feet yet. Keep an eye on Une for me, will you?"

Zechs glanced over Treize's shoulder. "I think Timothy already has that covered. Anything else?"

Treize raised an eyebrow but refrained from commenting. "Dorothy, then. You're about the only person here that actually likes her."

"Of course."

The blond made to move away but Treize stopped him by catching his arm and drawing him to one side of the dance floor, apart from everyone else. "Zechs, does Noin know your true name?" he asked quietly.

The younger man frowned. "I haven't told her. Why?"

"Does she know you and I are related?"

"Not beyond the usual story." The frown deepened. "Treize, what makes you ask?"

"Be careful with her around Dorothy; she noticed your hair."

"I'd assumed she would but that's not evidence of anything."

"No, it isn't. But she's European nobility, however minor. She has to know 'Zechs Marquise' can't be your true name."

Zechs took a step back. "If she does, she's known for years and never said anything. Why are you worried?"

Treize looked down. "Inviting her here may have been a mistake on my part, my friend. She's a smart woman and she's in love with you. If she assumes that you and Dorothy are related and goes looking, it won't take her very long to work out who you have to be."

Zechs shook his head, registering his friend's opinion on Noin's feelings for him absently as conformation of something he'd suspected for a long time. "I don't think so. She may well research Dorothy's family tree, but almost no-one remembers that the Khushrenadas had blood ties to the Sanc monarchy. Even if she does go looking, which conclusion is she more likely to come to – the one we've always used, that I'm an illegitimate distant relative of your mother's and so not on the records, or that I'm a dead Prince?"

Treize smiled. "I agree with you that it's a small risk – I came to much the same conclusions. I merely thought you would appreciate the warning."

"I do." Zechs turned his head to see Noin watching them from a few paces away, frowning, seemingly unwilling to interrupt what must appear to be a rather intense conversation. He smiled at her, nodding at Treize before leaving them alone.

Treize came to her side. "My apologies, Lucrezia. Shall we?" He offered her his hand and she took it, following him onto the dance floor as the orchestra struck up the opening notes of the next dance.

For the next few minutes, she devoted one part of her mind to following her commanding officer's lead through the steps; the rest, she focused on the half heard words '…dead Prince…' and all the meanings they could hold.