Matching historical dates and figures is a challenge.

0o0o0o

Somewhere behind the silvered outline of Gilbert's hair, there was the looming outline of the church. Roderich didn't care.

'Really?' he asked. He had to catch his breath, he had to remember how to think. He'd promised everything and it felt like living was supposed to be.

'Anything, anything for you,' Gilbert promised. His voice was hoarse. 'England. I intend to go to England, and-oh, Roderich. What do I say to you? What have I ever been able to say to convey what I feel for you?'

'Je t'aime,' Roderich offered, half to answer and half to tell. He wanted to say it over and over. Gilbert's drawn expression broke into an exhausted, jubilant grin.

'Je t'aime. Even if I've never been good with words, that at least I can say.' He tipped Roderich's head up to kiss him. 'How wonderful it is that such a thing can exist between men as well.'

'Indeed.' Roderich let Gilbert rest his head on his shoulder. There was a warm kind of happiness suffusing his entire body, chasing away the cold of the night air. 'Are you tired?'

Gilbert opened his eyes. His face was flushed red and his eyes were bright. 'No. Not at all. I'm-I'm overwhelmed, that's what I am. Roderich. You're really coming with me?'

'I am.'

Gilbert twirled him around with a laugh, and Roderich's heart beat faster. He was dizzy when Gilbert set him back down, and the prince steadied him.

'Careful.'

'Ridiculous. If I had any carefulness left in me, it disappeared after I realized I would follow you to the ends of the earth.'

'And when was that?' Gilbert asked.

'Longer ago than you'd care to know.' Roderich let Gilbert embrace him to ward off the cold. 'You should sleep.'

'I should, I should. You're hypocritical, though, I know you won't be.'

'No.' Roderich smiled. 'England.'

'Yes.' They both shivered at the word. 'Tomorrow. Or, I suppose it's today now. I'll tell you everything.'

'Why the hurry?' Roderich teased. Was it his imagination that Gilbert touched the sword on his left?

'I have...business I need to attend to.' He bent again for a chaste kiss. 'Roderich, it's going to be so dangerous.'

'I would brave anything for you.' Roderich let him go. Gilbert tucked the too-small jacket tighter around him and nodded once, eyes glittering like the birds who sang in the trees. He turned and left, the moonlight of him fading into the darkness.

Roderich didn't realize how exhausted he was until he was home, nervous excitement still sparking through his fingers, and fell asleep without thinking.

0o0o0o

A girl with pale, short hair was working the bar when Gilbert arrived, and he recognized her as the one Francis had called.

'You know my friends?' he asked. 'Francis? Blue eyes and blond hair. Antonio has green eyes and flirts with the actor. They...they're expecting me,' he lied.

The girl's eyes lit up in recognition. 'I know Antonio. He's upstairs, name's written on the door. Just knock, they shouldn't be asleep this early.'

'Thank you…?'

'Emma,' she said. 'Oh, and...just be careful opening the door.'

Gilbert tried the door. It was sticky, as if it was wedged shut, and he gently pried it open and whispered 'Antonio?'

There was a muffled curse from someone who was very obviously not Antonio, and a loud thump of something wrapped in blankets hitting the floor. Gilbert's mind instantly went to an intruder. He threw open the door and-

'Get out!' Lovino screeched, pulling the remaining blankets up to his neck. On the ground, Antonio sat up, wincing, and went pale as he, and Gilbert, realized that he was completely-

Gilbert slammed the door and slid to the ground in the hallway. The door opposite creaked open. Francis looked blearily down at him.

'Gilbert?'

'Antonio?' Gilbert croaked. 'In there. I thought you two were sharing a room?'

'We were. This one was...well, on the house.' Francis rubbed a hand through his hair. 'Mon ami, please do not tell me you hadn't realized they were already together.'

'Well,' Gilbert started, but Antonio finally opened the door-thankfully covered-and looked down to where Gilbert was sitting.

'Gilbert-' He glanced back into the room. 'You know what you saw.'

'Too much,' Gilbert interjected, and he reddened.

'You're not…'

'For heaven's sake, Antonio! He's after the lieutenant!' Francis cried, and pointed them all downstairs to have a drink.

After half a glass, Antonio could look him in the eyes again. Lovino was still staring into his drink.

'Good job,' Gilbert said, and Antonio blushed again.

'I...thanks?'

'Don't worry, drinks are on Francis,' Gilbert said, clapping him on the back. Beside him, Francis put down his glass. 'I was coming to ask if you knew where I could get a tattoo.'

'Why?'

'I have my reasons.' He tipped back the dregs. 'You can come if you want. Lovino, too.'

'I know a place,' Francis said, and pushed them all out of the theatre bar before they drank any more.

0o0o0o

The shopkeeper's mouth dropped open when their small party of four entered the tiny, tucked-away shop. It had been the only one open this late due to having a second function, which Gilbert assumed was why Francis knew about it.

'Most of our regulars are taken, your Majesty,' he stammered. Francis' eyes flicked towards the back, and a loud noise echoed through the shop.

'We're here to get a tattoo,' Gilbert assured him. He casually dropped a handful of coins on the counter. 'For your trouble. I assume you'd prefer for your business to remain...discreet in the eyes of the law.'

The man nodded. He led them over to the tattoo station and wiped down the materials. Gilbert was relieved to see that everything looked clean enough.

'I'm Toris,' the man introduced. Gilbert watched as he handled the materials and the worry in his eyes faded away.

'Where is Feliks?' Francis interrupted. Toris pointed towards a side room. Francis left. Gilbert expected him to come back lighter of purse. He did, after five minutes, with a large smile, and waved as a blond man-Feliks-escorted him to the back and through the door.

'What tattoo did you want?' Toris asked, and Gilbert determinedly looked away from the door.

'I want that, full-sized. Here.' Gilbert pointed. 'Not coloured, not shaded. A simple, black line drawing, please.'

Toris gave him a look. 'It is a…'

'It's what I want,' Gilbert said firmly. 'Cost does not matter.'

'It will hurt,' Toris said hesitantly. 'The area is bony in places.'

'Irrelevant,' Gilbert said. Behind him, Antonio moved as if to stop him. 'How quickly can you complete it?'

'It will take tonight and tomorrow.' He fiddled with his needles nervously. 'Are you sure?'

Gilbert wordlessly climbed onto the table and closed his eyes. A few seconds later he felt the first jabs of the needle.

0o0o0o

Francis had come out looking satisfied. Gilbert was aching. Antonio looked between them, seemingly at a loss between being enthusiastic and worried, and settled for looking at Lovino instead.

'I'm surprised you didn't get a tattoo,' Gilbert said. Antonio shrugged.

'I already have a few.'

Gilbert raised an eyebrow. Lovino didn't look surprised. Of course he didn't. 'What of?'

'An eagle,' Lovino said, and everyone looked at him. He glanced away, but Gilbert could see him smile. 'In red and yellow ink. All across his back.'

Gilbert tried to catch Antonio's eye the whole way they walked and failed.

They stopped in front of the palace.

'You are going to get in trouble one day with all this sneaking out at night,' Francis told him half-seriously, and Gilbert snorted.

'Oh, if the king only knew how much sneaking out I'll be doing soon.' He looked over at Lovino, who was frowning, and momentarily wondered if he should have been so careless. But he trusted Antonio, and Antonio trusted Lovino. He wouldn't tell.

But Gilbert should tell him what had been offered to his brother.

'You two go back,' he said to his friends. 'I need to talk to Lovino. If that's okay with you?' He directed the latter to the man in front of him.

The actor's eyes narrowed, but he stayed still as Gilbert's friends left. 'What do you need?'

'Listen. I…' The words stuck on his tongue. 'Ask Antonio later for the details. All you need to know now is that your brother might be leaving Prussia and not come back.'

'What? Why?' Lovino snarled. 'He can't do that. He can't just run away.'

'It's his choice to make,' Gilbert said carefully.

'It's because of the potato bastard, isn't it?' Lovino spat.

'That's my brother,' Gilbert snapped. Lovino jerked in surprise. 'Half brother. My father's son but not my mother's. And...it is because of him, but if you have a problem, you can take it up with me.'

Gilbert expected Lovino to punch him, or to demand he stop Feliciano from leaving. He didn't expect Lovino to grab his collar and haul him down until they were eye-to-eye and whisper 'God help you if my brother gets hurt because of you' and shove him away.

Gilbert watched Lovino stalk away down the street, and shout 'Antonio!' until his friend turned and caught him. He watched them go and stumbled off to his rooms alone.

He was sore deep down and fearful and elated and barely took off Roderich's jacket before he fell asleep.

0o0o0o

Gilbert found it even harder than normal to concentrate on arithmetic when Roderich sat beside him close and their hands brushed underneath the table. As he bent over his papers, he looked perfectly studious, but he met Gilbert's eyes and smiled.

When the tutor and Roderich both turned away as a boy dropped his quills, Gilbert leaned over and wrote dans deux heures, mes chambres on the corner of his paper. Roderich saw it when he turned back.

'Bien sûr,' he murmured, and Gilbert shivered. French was their language of secrets, and therefore the honesty they could not say otherwise. But most of all, it was theirs.

0o0o0o

Gilbert was glad he'd said he would be back later rather than earlier to the tattoo shop, as he only winced a little bit when he laid back on his bed. He pulled the letter with the map from behind the headboard.

'Is that my letter?' Roderich asked.

'It is,' Gilbert said. 'Look. Here we are, Berlin, and we go to Mannheim to Küstrin to Leipzig. And my brother is coming.'

'Ludwig?'

'I offered.' Gilbert put down the letter before he tore it with his fidgeting and motioned Roderich to sit on the bed with him. Roderich moved slowly, easing himself down to sit on the edge.

'And your plan is just to run?'

'I don't lead a wing for nothing,' he said, nudging Roderich. 'We go in groups, at different times, and meet at Leipzig. I will obviously go-'

'First,' Roderich said. Gilbert slowly looked up.

'Last,' he said clearly. Roderich stood up, pointing down at him.

'The longer you stay here, the more dangerous it becomes. I will not have this mission jeopardized by your refusal to be selfish, Gilbert.'

'I'm plenty selfish, believe me. I will not allow you or my brother to be caught for what is my decision.' He drew a breath. 'By the time I leave, you will be safe. No sooner.'

They stayed locked in a staring match before Roderich sunk back onto the bed and buried his face in his hands.

'Could I convince you otherwise?' he asked dully. 'Gilbert, you fearless hurricane of a prince?'

'No,' Gilbert told him. He gazed up at the ceiling. Roderich was still.

'We will be safe,' he promised, and lay back until they were pressed shoulder to shoulder, so close they could feel each other's heartbeats.

'We are forging history. That's not always safe,' Gilbert told him. He felt it, heard it's call, tasted the iron of it. History called to him. 'However, our flight would be unforgettable. The runaway Prussian prince and his…' Gilbert caught his hand and pressed it to his lips. 'King.'

Roderich breathed in sharp and the entire energy of his body changed. 'King,' he repeated.

'Nothing less.' Gilbert could see the quick rising and falling of Roderich's chest. 'The question here is whether history will praise me or scorn me for...for you.'

'If it will scorn anyone, it will be me,' Roderich teased, but his breath caught. 'I am...the prince's secret, hidden lover, tempting him away from the throne and his beloved queen.'

'Ah, yes, the queen I'll meet at some formal event and instantly decide she is my one love. Of course the suddenly offered dowry has nothing to do with it, nor the convenient political alliance.' Gilbert grinned. 'How unfortunate that I met a musician and learned his prides and touch and loved him in a way I did not know could be.'

'And what is that way?' Roderich asked softly. Gilbert tilted his head, and his eyes glimmered.

'When you speak, I think of music, of all the freedom of it. When you speak, I think of what is waiting, of what I can be.'

'You're going to be everything, Gilbert.'

'But not without you.'

They are close, close, close, and they both realize the press of their hands and chests at the same time and back away, giving each other secret, guilty, exhilarated glances like they are young and unknowing of love again.

'How we would have been forgotten,' Roderich said, rolling onto his back again. His face is red high on his cheeks. Gilbert can feel his whole face burning. Roderich turned towards him. His dark hair fell into his eyes. 'But they won't forget this. You will become immortal in legend, Gilbert.'

'You as well.'

'No.' Roderich waved it away, his eyes still fixed on his. 'History is waiting for you, not for me.'

'I am nothing without you beside me,' Gilbert said again, and wanted, wanted, wanted.

'You need a false name,' Roderich said abruptly, turning away to stare upwards. Gilbert swallowed hard.

'I-I have one.'

'That was quick.' Roderich was still pressed towards him and Gilbert's body hummed. They were close. 'Who are you, Gilbert?'

'It's a name I've gone by for a long time. The...the Marquis d'Ambreville.'

Roderich looked at him disbelievingly. 'The musician.'

'Yes.'

'You are...you're brilliant, Gilbert.' Roderich leaned forward and kissed him and Gilbert's body sang. 'Brilliant,' he repeated.

'Do you need a name?' Gilbert asked stupidly, because it was all he could think of.

'I'm not anybody,' Roderich said, and Gilbert opened his mouth to correct him. 'In the eyes of the public. You're the prince.'

'I still advise against using your real name,' Gilbert mumbled.

'I'll find something. And your brother shouldn't need one either.'

'My brother needs to take a different path than the towns,' Gilbert realized. 'So if we are trailed, he can escape. You should go with him.'

'No.' Roderich's eyes were steely bright. 'When I fell for you, I chose to face whatever dangers you might encounter.'

If he didn't stop smiling so much they'd never get any more planning done. 'Je t'aime,' he said, though, because he was gloriously, sun-bright happy.

'Je t'aime,' Roderich replied.

They lay there entangled and shining in their happiness. They had to take action sooner or later, but these stolen seconds were a break of peace in the looming storm.

'Why England?' Roderich asked. Their fingers twined overtop the sheets. 'We know French better, and I cannot help but notice the French poetry on your shelves.'

Gilbert's heart jumped at that word, we. 'It just looked so far away,' he confessed. 'Roderich, when do I ever make decisions based on more than reckless love?'

'Rarely,' Roderich admitted with a smile. 'Tell me again. How we plan to run away.'

'First,' Gilbert whispered, feeling like a child with a secret again, warm and sparkling, 'my brother and Feliciano will go directly to England. You will go to the towns. I will see you at Leipzig, Roderich, and no excuses.'

'I wouldn't dream of it.'

And perhaps it was okay to give in to the closeness between them as they lay on the sun-soaked bed and be simply happy in each other's touches.

0o0o0o

Researching figures without listed titles and common names is even harder.

:: Books with covers almost like fabric, old and in archaic speech