Felix followed him willingly, easily forgetting Zechs's standing instructions that he wasn't to be alone with the older man. "Where are we going?" he asked.
"Somewhere I can be sure the press can't hear us," Treize explained. "Nor any other unwanted ears. I need a moment away from the Ballroom in any case."
Felix looked at him, then nodded and stepped in front of the older man to lead the way to his and Aleks's little den, taking short cuts Treize knew he would never have found.
He opened the door, then slumped into the carpet, careless of his elaborate costume, leaving Treize to pour the wine for them both this time.
"Talk," Treize ordered quietly, when handing Felix his glass made him look up again.
Felix gave a harsh laugh. "About what, cousin?" He took a mouthful of his drink and swallowed slowly. "What is there to say that you haven't already deduced?"
Treize shrugged lightly. "What I may have deduced does nothing to alter what you may need to say." He reached out and let his hand settle on Felix's wrist lightly. "You're in an awful position," he acknowledged softly.
Felix laughed again, then shook his head and downed the rest of his wine in one. "I've known him since we were five," he said woodenly. "I can't remember how long I've loved him."
"Prince James?" Treize asked.
The doctor nodded. "Jem. We should never have started it, but it was easy, for a while," he explained bitterly. "We were at school and no-one cared what two teenagers got up to after lights out – even if one of them was a crown prince. I kept expecting, we both kept expecting, it to burn out, like it did with everyone else, to let us go back to being friends, but it didn't. The more time we spent together, the worse it got, until..." He stopped and swallowed roughly. "When we left school, we agreed it was over, that it had to be over. I'm not stupid," he said suddenly. "He's the future King, and of a country much more tradition governed than Sanc. Not a chance could he declare another man his life-partner, not if he wanted to keep his crown. Clear line of succession is everything to the British."
Treize nodded. "Understandably so," he agreed. "A lot of their power comes from it. What happened to Milliardo gave them an unparalleled position for the first time in 200 years – but what happened to Milliardo also reminded them how easily it could happen to them. The British Royals have never bred easily, especially in the male line. George was paranoid about it when I knew him – I'm not at all surprised he married and had children as soon after the war as he did."
"You knew King George?" Felix asked, looking directly at Treize for the first time.
"Not well enough to call him more than an acquaintance," Treize replied, shrugging. He took a sip of his own wine. "But we spoke a few times. He told me once he envied my freedom," he said. George had meant Treize's freedom to use the full range of coin available to him in the Romefeller Halls, a choice he didn't have in his position, rather than his freedom to love as he chose but Treize didn't suspect Felix needed to know that.
"Huh. Figures." Felix swallowed again, then dropped his gaze. "I went to medical school, threw myself into my studies, gained a reputation." He smiled weakly. "The family think it was teenage hormones but I was trying to find someone, anyone, else who stayed in my head for longer than it took me to get dressed when I was done with them. But no matter how good they were, no-one ever did. I had hope for Aleks for a while – he might have done it – but then he decided he was straight."
He stopped for a moment, shrugged, then continued, "When I ran into Jem again at an ESUN Summit last year, I hadn't actually seen or spoken to him in nearly five years. It took us less than twelve hours to end up in bed and right back where we'd started. We've been seeing each other when we can ever since, and getting away with it because we were 'old friends'. I even thought I was clever for taking Aleks along to act as a cover – I had no idea he knew and had a thing for Isabelle until he started talking about her all the time."
Treize tightened his grip on the doctor's wrist. "Does he know?" he asked.
Felix shook his head. "No. No-one does. Who would I tell who would understand?" he asked, frustration clear in his voice. "Aleks couldn't keep it quiet; Helen's too young. My mother would only pity me and Uncle Milliardo wouldn't understand the politics – he'd tell me to 'be happy, child,' and damn the consequences." He laughed, the sound edgy. "Marie might, but she's hardly ever here and would tell Wufei in any case, and then he would tell Quatre, who would tell Milliardo and my dad, so that's not happening. So, no-one. It's been..."
He broke off and swallowed a third time, choking down clear emotion. "I was with him in France when Aleks called me about you, you know. We were supposed to be deciding what to do – we're running out of time, you see, because Jem's parents have as good as told him that they won't let Isabelle marry until he has. It's the line of succession thing again – he's the Crown Prince, but she's his Heir until he has children. Not a chance are they going to risk that she's married to Aleks with a brood of Sancian children if there's a possibility those children will be getting the Crown one day."
Treize nodded, listening intently. "Of course not. It would make Great Britain a subject country to Sanc. So?" he asked, to prompt. There was a desperate flow to Felix's unbroken monologue that said the Doctor needed to get this all out before he lost his nerve.
"So, Jem isn't stupid either, and neither are his parents," Felix continued, raking a hand through his hair. "The British want Aleks for Isabelle, it's a great match on both sides, but they also know that they haven't got five years to make a decision. Aleks needs to marry for the same reason that Jem does - he hasn't even got a sister to back him up. He can't wait, so neither can she, so neither can Jem. They're pushing him for a formal engagement to some British Duchess at Christmas and a Royal wedding next summer." His face twisted. "If he gets the Duchess knocked up quickly, Isabelle will be free to marry Aleks the summer after. It's all disgustingly neat."
Treize nodded again – it was neat and the political thinker in him applauded it. He'd done some reading whilst he was staying with Une, and knew that George's stubborn refusal to commit Britain completely during the war had left the country in a strong position at the end of it, a position they'd quickly capitalised on to become a significant power now. Stabilising the top levels of their country would have a trickle-down effect on the country as a whole and allow that power to be wielded to full effect, as well as gaining British businesses an in with Winner Corp.
In return, as Treize had explained to Zechs, Sanc gained a real Princess for their tourist draw and the support of Britain's strong economy and substantial political might.
Treize might, he admitted, have suggested a non-native bride for James - he thought George and Sylvia were wasting a golden opportunity there, and resolved to speak to Relena about it, to see if she could plant the seeds for him – but handled carefully, two Royal Weddings and two Royal Births could be enough to stabilise the whole ESUN for the next 20-30 years, enough to get them past the 40-50 year mark which history said was the danger point for aggression spirals between nations flaring into open conflict.
Against that, what was the youthful love of one couple? Treize would have loved to pretend he could envision a happy ending for Felix but it was far more likely that he was going to get his heart broken.
"If it helps," he said gently, "I do know something of how you feel."
Felix looked at him sadly. "Uncle Milliardo?" he asked carefully, and Treize nodded.
"He doubtless has never thought of it in these terms, but my being dead might well have been the easier road for him once the war ended," he said. "Relena is a fantastic politician but she was a dreadful Queen. Sanc needed King Milliardo, and whilst Lucrezia Noin as a wife might have been an acceptable ghost of his past, I would never, never have been. Even leaving aside the issue of the succession, I would never have been permitted to have any part of his life."
He laughed, but it was as bitter as Felix's had been. "I knew that, even if he didn't and I knew it from the first moment I touched him," he finished.
Felix sat in silence for a moment, biting his lip, then drew a deep breath. "How did you live with it?" he asked. "If I'm going to lose Jem, I need to know how to live with it after. How did you do it?"
Treize froze, then pulled his hand back sharply and looked away. "I didn't," he answered honestly. He got to his feet and collected up their glasses, using the motion to cover his reaction. "Twelve days ago, I stepped into the cockpit of the Tallgeese knowing I'd served my purpose, knowing I'd lose him even if he survived, and knowing my death would simplify the equations for a lot of things in the next few years. I had no future, no place and no intention of living in a world without him so I backed Chang into a duel he couldn't lose. I may," he admitted, trying to lighten the tone, "not be the role model you want in this."
He let the words settle into the stillness of the room, knowing he'd probably shocked the doctor into dumbness and went about refilling their glasses peaceably, handing Felix's back to him without a word.
"Treize," the doctor started and Treize quelled him with a look.
"We aren't talking about me," he said firmly.
There was more silence. "Alright," Felix agreed eventually. "For now." He took a breath. "We've talked about him abdicating," he said evenly. "Jem, I mean. If he resigns his claim to the throne, he's nothing more than a private citizen, and he can do what he likes."
"Yes," Treize agreed, spinning his wine glass between his fingers idly. "And?"
Felix spluttered – that was clearly not the reaction he had expected. "And, what? Aren't you going to tell me all the reasons why he shouldn't?"
Treize shrugged. "Do you need me to?" he asked, genuinely meaning the question.
The doctor glared at him. "I can't ask him to do that!" he snapped. "You know I can't."
"Why?" Treize sipped his wine. "Why can't you?"
Felix stared, then drained off his glass again – he was going to be drunk if he wasn't careful, Treize noted – then shook his head. "Fuck me," he muttered. "I was expecting the sentimental bollocks from Milliardo, not you. You really, honestly expect me to ask him to walk away from his country, from the role he's trained his whole life for, to destabilize the heart of one of the most steady nations in the ESUN?" he demanded. "You really expect me to deprive Sanc of a potentially powerful ally, when that could be all she needs to complete the rebuilding? To say nothing of breaking Aleks's heart when it writes off the possibility of his marriage to Isabelle. Oh, and cause issues with his marriage when he does get round to it, because there isn't another option nearly so suitable. Really?"
Treize tipped him a soothing look. "No, of course I don't," he said as gently as he could. "I just wanted to be sure that you know the reasons why you can't - truly know them and believe in them," he explained, "so that when James tells you he can't abdicate, that what you share is over, you know he isn't saying so because he doesn't care for you."
Felix stared at him for a moment with wide, drowning eyes, then abruptly dropped his wine glass to the carpet and folded, covering his face with his hands. "Damn you," he choked out.
Treize watched him for a moment, suspecting he knew only too well the feelings ripping through the young doctor, and then, because he'd so often wished there was someone to do the same thing for him, he set his own glass down and pulled the other man into his arms, holding him against the tremors racking him.
Sympathy was useless, and there was little Treize could apologise for that made any sense, so he simply sat in silence until the doctor calmed, sitting up and wiping at his eyes hurriedly.
He picked his glass up and drank it, slowly, giving Felix chance to collect himself and only looked up again when the doctor touched him lightly on the sleeve.
"I'm sorry," Felix offered diffidently. "I didn't mean to..."
Treize silenced him with a raised hand, then brushed his mouth to the other man's gently. "Hush." He waited until Felix nodded his understanding. "Change clothes with me," he instructed, standing up and beginning to work the fastenings on the heavy blue velvet.
Felix obeyed automatically, but his expression was puzzled. "Why?"
"Because you can't disappear from the Ball for the rest of the night without raising questions, and certainly not if James goes missing at the same time, but I definitely can," Treize explained, shucking the robe and starting on his shirt. "So you are going to go back to the Ball and tell anyone who asks that I was feeling a little breathless from all the dancing, so you ordered me to go to bed, and I am going to appear to have done just that."
Felix frowned. "Sorry?" he asked.
Treize smiled. "I'm given to understand that you once impersonated me at one of these things – I'm returning the favour. It should give you till morning without being disturbed."
Understanding dawned and suddenly the young doctor was smiling widely.
.
.
Dorothy, who had seen Treize and Felix slip out into the gardens together, was puzzled when Treize returned half an hour later, wearing her son's costume, and telling those who asked that the former general wasn't feeling very well.
A few minutes later, she watched as Crown Prince James made his excuses to his sister and retired for the night as well, and she smiled at the native cunning displayed by her uncle and her son, even as something broke inside for her poor boy. She'd wondered what was going on there, and now she knew.
Zechs, sometime later and on the far side of the room, was bewildered when he noticed Felix dancing a graceful waltz with Lady Une, the two of them talking quietly as they moved. He didn't think Une and Felix had ever danced with other – much less done so whilst conducting an intense conversation.
Bright, youthful laughter distracted him before he could think about it any further, and he turned his head to watch his son indulgently. It was getting late, even the press had mostly packed up, but Aleks and Isabelle were still on the dance floor, as they had been for as much of the evening as they could get away with, still looking at each other with a softness in their eyes that had had half the room sighing with wistful longing.
Bloody fairytale indeed, Zechs snorted mentally. He was going to have words with his sister tomorrow – the press were going to have a field day, and the headlines would be exactly what he'd been clear he didn't want when he'd agreed to James and Isabelle attending the Ball in the first place.
Speaking of which… he glanced at the ornate Grandfather clock at the top of the stairs to check the time. Britain was two hours behind Sanc so it was still a reasonable hour in London; George would appreciate the heads-up about what he was about to wake up to tomorrow.
Wondering what Treize would make of the boy who could barely be bothered to remember to say good morning most days making courtesy calls to European Royalty, he was reminded that the former general had ducked out of the Ball early, and on very flimsy pretence. However, er, challenging his dancing with Helen had been – and he was studiously not letting his mind supply other adjectives for it – there was no way it was leaving a trained Specials pilot so breathless he needed to 'go lie down'. Either it was code for Treize being up to something, or the younger man was covering emotional distress with made-up physical symptoms again, as he had his first day in the Palace.
Deciding it would pay to check on him before he went to bed, Zechs signalled to the Master of Ceremonies, and heard the familiar strains of the Sanc National Anthem surround him as he took his leave from the Ball.