Zechs hadn't been kidding when he said the entire family got together for dinner.

With the exception of a quick stop at the King's suite – which Treize was surprised to realise was only a few doors down from his own – the older man had guided the younger swiftly through the palace. He'd walked straight past the dining room breakfast had been served in to cross into the north wing of the building and come to a stop before a door Treize had no memory of.

"Brace yourself," the King said impishly and pushed the door open.

The buzz of conversation rose as Zechs stepped into the room, peaked for a moment, and died away to nothing at all as Treize followed him.

Feeling decidedly awkward, the general hesitated just inside the door, scanning the room swiftly and being careful not to let his gaze linger on any one person or intersect with anyone else's. He could feel the weight of their eyes on him, and knew he was being studied.

Zechs put a hand lightly under his elbow, drawing him a pace further into the room so the door could swing shut behind him. "I realise the introduction is a little late and rather unnecessary but for those of you who haven't met him before, Treize Khushrenada," Zechs said steadily. He waited a moment and when the silence continued, he added, "Don't everyone say hello at once then!"

There was an uneasy rustling and a flurry of exchanged sideways glances. Treize tensed and felt Zechs's hand grip a little harder as he registered the reaction, offering wordless support as someone in the back of the room sighed noisily and pushed past Felix's tall figure.

"Oh, honestly. All the lectures you've given me about manners!"

Treize blinked as a small, slender teenage girl stepped into clear view and came towards him without a trace of hesitation, her back straight and her eyes lowered modestly. Her left hand caught up her long skirts as she dropped him a perfect curtsey, her right extending for him to take. "Elena Maxwell, Your Grace," she murmured. "Helen, unless my mother is in the room."

Treize reached for her hand without thinking, the reflex of a lifetime's training, and laid a gentle kiss on the back of it as he drew her carefully back to being upright. "Treize Khushrenada," he answered her, then, very quietly, "and thank you."

The smile she gave him at his words was beaming. "You're welcome." She tilted her head and looked up at him intently, letting him see the dusky purple of her eyes as they flickered back and forwards across his face.

Treize barely registered it when Zechs let him go and took a step back; he was too busy scrutinising the girl in front of him.

There was no mistaking whose daughter she was. The colour of her eyes did nothing to disguise the expression in them and though her hair was burnished gold rather silvery platinum, it hung in a straight, heavy sheet to her hips, drawn back at her ears with two emerald barrettes.

Involuntarily, he glanced over Elena's head to search for Dorothy, and jumped when the girl half turned around to look at her brother. "Kitty, get over here!" she ordered sharply.

Felix rolled his eyes and straightened slowly from his elegant slouch against the back wall. "So loud, Hellion," he chided. "I've already said my hellos but I shall come and say them again if you insist." He handed off the glass of wine he was holding to his father and made his way across the space, pausing only to snare a hand into the arm of another young man standing a few feet away.

Treize couldn't help but look at Elena in puzzlement. "Kitty?" he asked.

"Kitty," she repeated firmly. "Felix-feline-cat-kitty," she explained rapidly. "And because he's just like a cat. Fussy and spoilt and disdainful…"

"Thank you, brat," Felix interrupted. "Hello again, then," he said to Treize, over his sister's head. "Feeling better?"

The younger man had changed clothes since they'd spoken in the courtyard, shucking the sports coat and slacks for a silk shirt and sharply tailored trousers. Treize felt rather underdressed in comparison. "Somewhat," he replied a little awkwardly. "You have my apologies for…"

Felix waved a hand. "Pfft, forget it. We can go for that drive in the morning, I expect." He smiled warmly. "And since no-one else seems to be bothering, I'll make some introductions for you, shall I?" he offered and proceeded to suit word to deed.

Letting go of the boy he'd collared, he gestured to him indicatively. "Your Grace, Aleksander Peacecraft. I believe you've already met but I thought I would make sure you were clear on identities… both of you…"

Treize couldn't help the smile that touched his mouth – there was that teasing Zechs had been expecting. He bit his lip to suppress the reaction and bowed gracefully from the waist. "Your Highness," he murmured. However much he wanted to study this namesake of his, the boy was Crown Prince of a country and the protocol was clear.

The movement stirred the room into unsettled humming; more so when Treize stayed in his bow.

"Let him up, Aleks," Zechs said a moment later, and there was a swift, uncertain touch to his shoulder. Treize straightened, noting that Felix was laughing silently, his sister with him, and that Aleks looked confused and a touch embarrassed.

"We're not so formal a court as you're used to," Zechs explained lightly, directing his words to Treize before switching his attention to his son. "He's Old Blood, Aleks. He can't move without your permission. I should have thought to warn you." He looked back at Treize. "Are you going to do that to everyone?" he asked, nothing in his tone giving away whether he approved or disapproved.

Treize gave a minute shrug. "It rather depends on whether they outrank me," he answered honestly.

Aleks suddenly shook his head at himself. "You're going to be good practice for the Brits next year, I can tell. Remind me to get you to drill me in every other silly tradition that could trip me up!"

"Yes, leaving the British Princess in her curtsey till she wobbles and falls over would be a wonderful way to start your courtship!" Felix laughed and Aleks blushed furiously.

"I would not!"

"She only has to be smart enough to do what I did and put her hand out," Elena commented, looking smug.

Treize, completely lost, looked to Zechs for an explanation. "I'll tell you later," the King said. He took Treize's elbow again and pressed him in the direction of a low velvet couch. "If I'd known you were going to be such a bloody traditionalist, I would have conducted the introductions myself," he groused softly. "What happened to my bow, anyway?" he needled gently.

"You don't count," Treize whispered back. "And these trousers are too new for me to be kneeling in them."

Zechs blinked, then coloured as he realised he'd made exactly the same mistake as his son. Protocol might have demanded Treize bow to Aleks, but Zechs was ruling royalty, without even a consort to share the throne. If the general had stayed with his traditions, he'd have been down on one knee with his neck bent until Zechs gave him permission to move.

"Do me a favour, and keep letting me not count," the King asked, as his memory kept filling in the rest of the code of behaviour Treize was following. "I can do without you hopping about all over the place every time we're in the same room. I abolished that level of formality for a reason."

"All right," Treize agreed.

Zechs stopped in front of the settee and gestured forwards. "Treize, my sister, Relena Peacecraft-Winner, her husband, Quatre Winner, and their daughter, Katerina."

Treize bowed smoothly again, standing when Zechs gave a tug.

Three pairs of blue eyes met his squarely, honest curiosity in one and guarded wariness in the others. Looking to charm, Treize looked first at the owner of the curious pair and smiled warmly. "A pleasure, mademoiselle," he murmured and made the girl giggle.

Katerina Winner couldn't have been more than eight or nine years old but she hid her smile long enough to nod at him in proper regal fashion before giggling again. She looked a true Peacecraft, pretty and blue eyed and with silky blonde hair pulled back into a simple braid.

Her parents, however, didn't look like they were going to be nearly so easy to win over.

Treize had never met Quatre Winner in person, so his first impression of him was as a slender blond man of average height, edging into a stately middle age. There was a weight of experience to his gaze that suggested he was not to be crossed but also an openness that tempered it into something approachable. He offered his hand willingly enough, no real warmth in his smile, and his grip was perfectly firm for exactly as long as it should have been.

"Your Excellency," he murmured and the title was a polite warning. The children might have been willing to accept Treize whole-heartedly, giving him the respect due to another noble with their 'Your Grace's' but Quatre was reminding him that there were those in the room who knew what else he had been and what he was capable of.

"Winner," Treize murmured back, and turned to Quatre's wife.

Relena Peacecraft had aged well from the impetuous teenaged girl Treize had dethroned. Sitting primly in her expensive lilac suit, the hem of the skirt just brushing her knees, back straight and hair swept up into an elegant chignon, she looked like the professional politician she was.

"It is so very strange to be looking at a dead man," she said delicately and her eyes were icy. "How are you finding the world we built?"

Treize flinched and Zechs hissed under his breath. The tension in the room, which had begun to dissipate with the children's greetings, was suddenly palpable again. Somewhere along the line, Relena had made an art form of the politician's insult – not a word out of place but she'd struck straight for the core of the former general.

It took Treize a breath longer than it should have to recover. "Your brother has done an excellent job with the restoration, Mrs Winner," he fired back, his voice as neutral as hers had been. "He's a credit to those that raised him."

"Treize…," Zechs warned softly.

Treize shook his head, holding up a hand to ward off the interruption he could feel the older man preparing "It's not my intention to cause an argument with anyone here," he said to the King, and looked back at the Princess. "To that end, will you let me offer you any apologies that are due, Relena? I did only what I thought was necessary and I've been given to understand that it was a very long time ago."

"Your definition of 'necessary' needs work, General," Relena replied coolly. A heartbeat later, she glanced at her brother and her eyes thawed fractionally. "Yes, I'll let you apologise. I'll even accept it and return my own."

Treize nodded at her, feeling himself relax. If Relena had chosen to take a stand against him it would have made things very difficult and, Lord knew, the woman had little enough reason to be nice to him. They'd only ever had one civil conversation and even that had been harried and emotionally fraught. "Thank you, then," he said softly.

The woman looked at him for a moment, then offered him a small smile. "It might be best if the two of us could talk sometime soon. I think perhaps we should clear the air between us," she glanced at her brother again, "for the sake of our family."

Treize returned the smile, letting his gratitude for her phrasing show through. A subtle use of words, but she'd told him a very great deal in her choice of 'our' rather than 'the' or even 'my' as she would have been entitled to. "At your convenience, ma'am," he replied and held her gaze for before turning away.

Zechs sighed under his breath. "Ouch," he whispered, "sorry."

Treize shook his head wordlessly, knowing his friend had missed the layers and layers of meaning he and Relena had just exchanged. As awkward as their conversation was going to be, Treize could feel himself anticipating it with more than utter dread. Relena had become the skilled opponent she had promised to be.

The King steered him to the matching couch across the room and Treize smiled as Duo grinned up at him cheerfully. "Told ya' it was creepy, Heero," he said brightly. "Good to see you again, general," he added. "Did Blondie finally get round to feeding you breakfast?"

"He did, thank you." Treize looked at the Asian man standing behind Duo. "Yuy," he greeted, knowing, despite the changes in the man, that there was no one else it could be.

"Khushrenada," Heero returned and seemed content to lapse back into silence.

Something about the exchange made Duo bark a laugh but before Treize could ask what was funny, the woman sitting on the other end of the couch had made a sound of pure frustration and sprung to her feet.

"You are not going to say hello to me like one of those old stuffed shirts," she ordered sternly, her eyes flashing in a face that was scarcely less beautiful for the marks the years had left on it. "I won't let you!"

Treize raised an eyebrow at her and then staggered back a pace when she all-but threw herself at him in a swirl of skirts and her hair, wrapping her arms firmly around his neck. "Dorothy…" he started, catching her reflexively and holding her loosely as his eyes cut to her husband in alarm.

Duo shrugged lazily, spreading his hands as if to ask, 'what can you do?' He nodded at the same time and Treize took that as permission to wrap his niece into a proper hug. "Dorothy," he repeated more gently, tasting the familiar syllables as he said them.

Dorothy had her face buried into the shoulder of his sweater, her fingers tight in the fabric at the back of his neck. "I thought you'd died," she moaned. "How could you do that to me? How?" she demanded fiercely. "What were you thinking?!"

Treize closed his eyes in pain. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I couldn't…I had no choice," he explained weakly.

Dorothy pulled back from him, eyes sparkling angrily. "No choice?" she repeated stormily. "No choice?! You bastard!" she spat, her hand cracking across the side of his face hard enough to make both Zechs and Duo wince in sympathy. There was a flood of heated Spanish as Treize saw stars, then, "You didn't even have the courtesy to tell me what you were planning!" she cried and flung herself back into his arms.

This time, Treize caught her without hesitation, pulling her to him and bending his head to hide his face in her long hair. "I'm sorry, Dors," he whispered. "So sorry. I couldn't think of any other way and I didn't think anyone would care."

"Care?" One of her little hands balled up and struck him on the shoulder weakly. "You stupid man!" she exclaimed. "How could we not care? Me, Milliardo, Anne… what were we without you?"

Treize shook his head. "You all seem to have managed well enough, Dors," he replied and even to his own ears, he sounded bitter.

Dorothy growled wordlessly, her slender figure tensing as though she was going to pull away. "Don't make me hit you again," she warned.

"No," Treize said and tightened his hold on her, reluctant to let her go. She was warm in his arms, the scent of her hair familiar and soothing. He couldn't remember how long it had been since he'd been hugged that way, sharing physical contact that was both welcome and comforting and he hadn't realised how much he needed it.

Eyes still shut, Treize drew her up onto her tiptoes, wrapping the two of them together as closely as they could be. His hands shaking suddenly as his self-control began to slip, he slid one arm around her trim waist and lifted the other to curl his fingers into her hair at the back of her head. Dorothy's arms wound back around his neck as she leaned her entire weight into him.

"Stupid man," she whispered again and her slim form began to shake.

Treize drew a ragged breath and let it out as a soft moan. "Oh, don't," he pleaded. "Please. I'm not worth it."

Dorothy nodded wordlessly.

"No, I'm not." Feeling increasingly unsteady, Treize began pushing the woman away from him. "Dors, please," he begged, letting the tone of his voice and the tremor in it tell her what she needed to know and he couldn't say. "I can't do this," he whispered. "Not today."

Dorothy clung to him for another moment, then took a deep breath and stepped back, bringing her hands up to wipe her face as her husband stood up from his seat on the couch and took her into his own hold.

Duo bent his head to whisper in her ear for a few seconds, then looked up at Treize and smiled. "If she cries half so much for me when I die, I'm going to consider this a successful marriage," he quipped.

The general stared at him blankly, and only dimly saw Duo's eyes flick to someone over his shoulder, not registering that the gesture meant anything until a large, warm hand touched him between the shoulder blades.

"Are you all right?" Zechs had appeared from somewhere and was standing side on to the smaller man, blocking him from the rest of the room, which, Treize was becoming aware, had fallen into an uncomfortable silence.

Squaring his shoulders, Treize blinked quickly and nodded, noting absently that a family dinner shouldn't take more effort than handing his resignation to Dermail in front of the Romefeller council had.

"Do you need a minute?" Zechs continued. "I swear to God, if I'd known it was going to be like this…" he apologised helplessly.

"I'm fine," Treize interrupted. "It isn't your fault and this was never going to be easy." He forced a smile. "Where were we?"

For a moment, the King stared at his friend intently, then shook his head slowly and took a step to one side. "That's it, ask me to make it worse," he said under his breath. He beckoned to the last group of people, who had been sitting gathered around a small coffee table in the very back of the room. They came to their feet as the King gestured to them, and crossed the room to stand in front of the two men.

"Treize, Chang Wufei, his wife, Marie and their son, Chang Wei Ning."

"Khushrenada," Chang said calmly. "It's pleasing to see you again."

"Likewise," Treize managed, bracing for another outpouring of emotion. The Chang of his memory had been a rather excitable boy.

"You needn't cringe so, Khushrenada," Wufei laughed, apparently registering the reaction. "I'm not one for making scenes like Maxwell's woman. I shall instead repeat the Princess's offer and suggest that the two of us would do well to speak frankly to one another in the near future. Perhaps you might join me for tea in the next few days?"

Relieved, Treize simply nodded.

"Excellent. There are several matters we need to discuss, I think." He smiled with more warmth and openness than Treize would have thought him capable of and reached for his wife's hand.

The lithe red-haired woman Treize had spied in the courtyard reached back immediately but her eyes never left Treize's face.

"An honour to meet you, madam," the general said, returning the scrutiny and wondering who she was. Of everyone in the room, she was the only one who wasn't either an old acquaintance of some sort, or the child of one. It made him wonder at the inclusion of both her and Chang in what Zechs had called a 'family' dinner. There had been, after all, others who had a stronger connection to Treize who weren't there, Lady Une as an example, and if it were merely because the oriental man had been a gundam pilot, then there was one of their number missing as well.

Treize looked more closely at the woman, because he couldn't shake the feeling that she was familiar from somewhere, and found himself looking directly into her eyes. The colour was a stunning rich blue, as clear as fine sapphire. "Likewise, sir," she said throatily and the sense of déjà vu increased.

"Now that I think about it," Wufei said, breaking the line of thought, "it occurs to me that I may just have found a tutor in European swordplay for my son who's worth the title. If I can persuade you to the post, that is. Milliardo has maintained for years that you were his teacher and he is an acceptable standard."

Zechs snorted rudely in reply. "You only say that because I beat you half the time."

"And lose the other half, but that is precisely my measure," Wufei explained. "Think about it, please," he asked Treize.

The general, caught completely off-guard, suddenly shook his head. "I don't need to think about it!" he said. "If you'd be willing, I'd be delighted! If you can give me time to find my bearings and put in a little practice, it would be an honour!"

Wufei smiled again. "Merely fitting," he answered cryptically, then turned to the King. "May we eat now?" he asked bluntly.

Zechs laughed, glanced back over his shoulder at the others in the room, and nodded. "Yes, you glutton. Twenty years, and I still don't know where you put it!"

"I thought Maxwell solved that riddle years ago," Wufei replied. "In my hollow legs!" He made his way to the far side of the room, pushing open the door that was set into the wall and revealed a pretty little dining room, just big enough to take the table that was set in the middle of it and be snug.

Sparkling glassware and silver cutlery gleamed in the lights thrown from the candle set on the table and Treize smiled. It had been a long time since he'd sat down to a properly presented meal.

A slender hand tucked itself into his arm and he looked round to see Felix had come up next to him. A moment later, Aleks stepped into his other side, bracketing him between them. "And now you've done with all that stuff and nonsense," Felix said airily, "you can come and sit with us and talk about something more interesting. My new car, for example, and when we're going to take you out on the town."

Treize blinked, realised he was being told and not asked, and acquiesced with good grace.