Every Dream's a Good Dream, Even Awful Dreams Are Good Dreams
3 N.I.C., Phezzan
"This is the house you're living in, Sieg?" Kircheis's mother asked as the car pulled up out front. The tone in her voice was one of barely restrained dismay, and Kircheis couldn't really blame her for that. He couldn't have explained why he had chosen this place, of all the houses that were available to purchase near the capitol. After all, he had gotten first choice; he could have taken the house that Mittermeyer and his wife lived in, which was something approaching cozy, or Reuenthal's stately but barren residence. The instinct that had compelled him to pick the grey concrete fortress was one that sat close to his heart. When he had driven by it for the first time, it was night, and Phezzan's space elevator had risen like a glistening thread behind it, and the grey stone had caught the lights of the city- it spoke to Phezzan's nature better than the faux Imperial design that others favored. And the blooming tropical flowers along the walls were pretty now, he thought. But perhaps he was simply used to its harsh face, at this point.
"Yes," Kircheis said. He didn't want to fight with his mother about it.
"I like the flowers," his father said. "I'll have to bring some clippings home with me."
"You know they won't survive the trip back," his mother scoffed as they got out of the car. "Seriously."
His mother's disdain for his father's obsession with flowers was a long familiar one, and it almost felt to Kircheis like he had seen his family more than once in the past decade. Perhaps this was something they were doing on purpose, to set him at ease. But, glancing at his mother's tight lipped expression, he doubted it. He had brought his parents to his house for dinner after giving them a brief tour of the capital, but now that they were no longer in public, some of the tension that had caused Kircheis to leave home and rarely return was showing in the way his mother looked at him, her tiny frame coiled tight. His father was more relaxed, but he always had been, Kircheis remembered.
The sun was going down as Kircheis's driver let them all into the building. He could smell the dinner that had been prepared, the heavy aroma of roast duck not quite scrubbed out through the air conditioner's filters. The interior of the house was cool and dark, which was a relief for his parents, who were both sweating, unused to Phezzan's oppressive air.
"You live here alone, don't you?" his mother asked, peering around corners as they walked around.
"Yes." He didn't know if he wanted to elaborate, but the silence was heavy, so he did. "Princess Annerose has been living with the Mariendorf family for now. She'll move in here after we're married."
"Does she like this house?" his mother asked. "It seems like a dreary place to start your married life in."
Kircheis bit his lip and refrained from making any comment about moving into the capitol building.
"I'll say it's a step up from what I've seen of photos of Neue Land," his father chimed in. "Phezzan's practically a garden of delights compared to that."
"You like it here?" Kircheis asked. The tour of the capital he had given had not been much of a representative sample of Phezzan, nor had it been particularly exciting or scenic. His mother clearly thought the same, and gave him a sharp glance.
"Well," his father said, catching his wife's disapproval, "I'm happy to get the opportunity to travel." He smiled at Kircheis. "It's exciting."
They finally reached the dining room. One of his servants had already laid it out for dinner, and he could feel his mother taking mental notes about the quality of the silverware and wine glasses. It was an uncomfortable instinct that everyone who grew up without a title on Odin developed, a constant self-checking to compare their lives to what they saw of nobles, even minor ones. Kircheis remembered the disdain with which his father had spoken of the von Müsel family when they had moved in next door- "poor nobles." Was that better or worse than their middle class existence had been? His mother was wearing her best dress.
This new life of his had crept up upon him so gradually that he had given very little thought to what it must appear like to his parents. His mother had once talked about him getting a wife and child, and them taking care of that child while he was out in space. There would be no bringing the heir of the Neue Reich to sit in his parents' small house on Odin, though. He was not simply marrying his childhood next door neighbor; he was marrying the most important woman in the universe, so that he could become regent after-
And Kircheis put that thought firmly away as he sat at the head of the table.
His parents were awkwardly silent as Kircheis' staff served them dinner, not entirely comfortable with the protocol, and they waited until the staff had left the room to speak again. During their earlier sightseeing, his parents had kept their comments to a minimum, but now the way they kept glancing at each other belied that they would be unable to keep from prying in his life. They ate and talked about nothing for a while, but Kircheis knew that peace was not fated to last.
"Are we going to be able to see Princess Annerose?" his mother finally asked, just as Kircheis raised his wine glass to his lips.
"She's very busy," he replied.
"We haven't seen her since she was what, fourteen?"
"Fifteen," Kircheis said.
"And she's five years older than you," his father said. "Well, I suppose that doesn't matter." He smiled. "I remember you used to have something of a crush on her, wanting to go over to that house."
"I don't really remember," he lied. "It feels like a lifetime ago."
"Certainly it was," his mother said. "You're all grown up, and now-" She waved her hand to indicate perhaps just the house, but perhaps the whole universe in Kircheis's hand.
"But she won't even make time to visit her future in-laws before the wedding? She used to be very sweet."
"I'll ask her," Kircheis said. "Perhaps we can- but the wedding is very soon, there's a lot that she has going on."
"Where is she now?"
"At the capitol," Kircheis said. "She's trying to spend as much time with Kaiser Reinhard as she can."
"It's not like you will be going anywhere once you are married," his mother said, but then caught herself, realizing how callous she sounded. "But is it really that dire?"
"I don't know. I'm not a doctor."
"I assume an audience with Kaiser Reinhard is also not in the cards," his father said.
"I didn't know you wanted to see him," Kircheis said.
"Oh. Well, I suppose I had the thought to thank him for treating you so well, all these years you've been with him."
Of all the conversations that his parents could have with Reinhard, that was the one he thought he wanted to see the least, for reasons which crystallized in his mind as soon as his mother opened her mouth to speak. "Of course," she said. "You've been very loyal to him. I'm glad to see he knows how to pay that loyalty back."
"I'm not entirely sure what you mean," Kircheis said stiffly.
"I never got the sense that he would allow just anyone to marry his sister. It's kind of him to give you permission."
"Mother-" His voice cracked, and he took a sip of his wine to steady himself. He wished he was drunk, not a wish he always had, but one that revealed itself now. "Princess Annerose is not my reward for loyalty. Please don't say that she is."
"It's certainly the way it looks to people," his mother pointed out. Practicality made her harsh. "Though I suppose that most people didn't see you and her as children."
His father tried to be helpful. "I'm sure it would have been difficult for him to give his blessing to anyone else."
"Perhaps," Kircheis siad, and looked down at his plate.
"Who could have imagined that when we gave our permission for you to follow the little Müsel boy to the military academy, we would all end up here," his father said. "Certainly not me."
"Me neither," his mother said. "You know, I had nightmares for years, about you dying on some spaceship somewhere." She shook her head. "I suppose my fears there were unfounded."
"No," Kircheis said. "War is dangerous." He looked away. "I didn't ever blame you for wanting to protect me from that."
His mother smiled, a point of victory perhaps won. That hadn't been what Kircheis had blamed her for.
"Did you imagine things would turn out like this, Sieg?" his father asked.
"Lord Reinhard did enough dreaming for the both of us," Kircheis said. "I just let him talk me into it."
"But he imagined all of this."
"Not all of it," Kircheis siad. "But enough."
"I suppose that where most people just dream of greatness, Kaiser Reinhard can't be called an egoist for accomplishing it," his mother said.
Kircheis looked down at his plate. "I don't think you need to insult him," he said.
"There was no insult intended. It's just hard to picture the boy who lived next door to us for a year and then snatched you away grew up to conquer the galaxy." She took a sip of her wine. "It beggars belief."
"He didn't snatch me away," Kircheis said. "I went with him of my own volition."
"Of course," his mother said. "You would have gone into the fleet without him to tell you to, I'm sure."
"Mother…"
"Fourteen years, Sieg," she said, looking away. "I saw my son once, in fourteen years."
"I'm sorry," Kircheis said, but it was a hollow apology.
"I used to record and watch any news out of Neue Land," she said. "Just to see you. I'd look at those pictures of you, videos, and you'd speak in a language I didn't understand, and I'd sit there and I'd ask myself, 'Is that really my son? My kind little boy?'" She shook her head. "And I'd hear about- everything." Her voice was strained. "I couldn't believe it was you, some of those times."
"Carla," his father said, a tense note in his own voice now. "He's a grown man."
"You used to be so sweet," she said. "I could hardly recognize you in the news."
"Do you recognize me now?" Kircheis asked, raising his eyes to look at his parents. They looked different from when he had been a child, of course: his mother felt tiny, his father seemed frail, but those were the ravages of age, and not the loss of childhood innocence. That had come before he had left, when he had told his parents of his plan to follow Reinhard to the military academy, and had seen his mother flinch- not simply because it was dangerous for her son to join the fleet, but because she heard something of the truth in the firmness of Kircheis's childish voice, and she had been afraid of it, or worse than afraid, disturbed. The acrimonious terms on which they had parted had been the reason he had not gone to see them for nearly eight years, even though there had been plenty of opportunity.
"No," his mother said. Some of the wind went out of her. "You don't seem anything like the pictures made you out to be. More like I remember you." She studied him, then looked away. "I wish I had more of you to remember."
"I'm sorry," he said again.
"You were very gentle back then. I hope that you still are, but perhaps you're too grown for that, as well."
"I try," Kircheis said. But he thought of Neue Land, and how little his attempts at gentleness actually meant. "A person can be kind to some and harsh to others," he said finally. "I'm sure you understand."
"Oh," she said. "I do." She looked away. "All your kindness has been reserved for certain people, with none left for the rest of us."
"Carla," his father said again. "You can't claim he hasn't done his filial duties." His father looked at Kircheis in apology.
"Isn't it only nobles who measure filial duties in terms of money?" she asked.
"If you want to move to Phezzan-" Kircheis tried, but the words died in his throat.
"We would only have a right to complain about him not visiting if we had asked him to visit," his father said.
"I don't want-" his mother said, then stopped talking, abruptly, taking a sip of her wine to shut herself up. A dark silence descended over the table. The three of them couldn't look at each other, so they ate without speaking, just the clinking of silverware to mark time.
"I'm glad you changed your mind about marriage," his father said eventually. "And I'm glad you didn't wait until you were thirty." The tone was lighthearted, but Kircheis couldn't help but feel grim about it.
"I'm glad you approve," Kircheis said.
"I can't really imagine getting married at your age," his father said, trying to keep the tone of the conversation light. "I didn't have anything in my life figured out. But you clearly do."
"It doesn't always feel like it," Kircheis admitted. "I often feel like I'm just doing what I can every day to keep my head above water."
"Does life ever stop feeling like that?" his father asked. "I'm not sure that it does."
His mother was still scowling down into her food.
"Will you move to Phezzan?" Kircheis asked. It was an olive branch.
"Maybe when I retire for good," his father said. "Or when there are grandchildren."
Kircheis nodded.
"It will be good to be able to spend more time with you, when you're not rushing all over the galaxy," his father said, trying to placate his mother. He looked at her for confirmation that this was acceptable, but his mother was frowning.
"It's not-" his mother said. "I don't want the future. I want the past fourteen years back. I wanted to see you grow up."
"You did," Kircheis said. "You raised me."
"And then he changed everything about you." She shook her head. "How can you not see it?" Kircheis wasn't sure who she was asking.
Kircheis didn't know if it felt worse to accept his mother's proposition that Reinhard had indeed shaped him into a tool, someone who could do exactly what was needed, or if he had that capability inside himself all along. If he closed his eyes and thought about it, he would prefer it to be the latter, if only because it kept Reinhard's hands ever so slightly cleaner, but he wasn't sure that it was true. It was a poorly chosen question, anyway. What was done was done, and it hardly mattered to the people of Neue Land, looking on Kircheis's hard face, if he had done it all for love or for power. They could think what they wanted of him, and so could his parents.
"Kaiser Reinhard has never forced me to do anything," Kircheis finally said. "I have followed him willingly."
"Why?" she asked. It was a simple question, one that Kircheis was sure she knew the answer to. He wondered if she was hoping he would lie. Would she try to believe it if he did?
"Kaiser Reinhard didn't change me," he said, going back to her earlier statement. "He has always been the same as myself. I couldn't have ever chosen a different life- that's why I follow him."
"Don't tell me that," she said, voice hard.
"What do you want me to say?" Kircheis asked. "Kaiser Reinhard has not made me a liar."
She put her fork down and wiped her mouth, preparing to stand. "Carla," his father said, trying to put his hand on her arm to stop her. She shook off his touch.
"You're a perfect stranger to me, Siegfried," she said. "I don't know what I expected."
"I'm sorry," he said again. "Are you going?"
"Will we be able to see you again, at least, before you're married?"
Her face was stricken, but he couldn't tell if it was his fault, or if she had worked herself up into this state. It didn't really matter- there was still part of him that did want to relieve his parents' distress. "Yes," he said, against his better judgement. "Of course."
"Then, yes, I think it would be better if I went," she said. Deliberately, she tried to steady her voice, though it didn't really work, offering him an olive branch of her own. "If there was something I did to drive you away, I don't want to repeat that mistake now." Her eyes slid away from his, but she stood, and Kircheis did as well.
"You didn't…" he said, but that wasn't completely true. Even from his first days at the military academy, he understood that a wedge had been driven between them, and if it was he who had done the driving, or his parents, he wasn't entirely sure.
She hugged him, then, only leaving him his breath because her arms were not strong enough to crush him. He was stiff under her touch for a moment, and then she released him to rub at her eyes. She turned and left without another word, leaving Kircheis and his father alone in the dining room.
"I'll have my driver bring you home," Kircheis said. "I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize," his father said. "I'm happy we could come see you."
"You are welcome to see me anytime. I don't want to give the impression that-"
His father shook his head, then put his hand on Kircheis's arm. "Your mother did go to see you while you were living on Odin, before… all of this," his father said. "When you were at Linbergstrasse."
Kircheis's brow furrowed. "Did she come by when I was out?"
His father's smile was thin. "I believe she hid across the street in her car when she saw you and, he was still just the Müsel boy back then, walk out together." He shook his head. "I don't believe she realized that the two of you had been living together."
Kircheis resisted the urge to sigh. "If she didn't bring it up, I wouldn't discuss it."
"The one time you visited, and she wanted to argue about marriage and grandchildren. We could have talked about orchids instead."
"It's alright. I am getting married, after all."
"It broke her heart when you told her that you didn't regret any of this, last time she spoke to you," his father said. "I suppose that's still true."
Kircheis looked away, not willing to bow and admit he had his own regrets. "I understand how she feels," he said. "I spent two years alone in Neue Land. There's time that none of us will get back."
His father squeezed his arm. "Can we make sure that there's a future, then? Even if we can't have the past?"
"Yes, sir," Kircheis said. "I promise."
The night before the wedding, Kircheis had dinner with Annerose and Reinhard in his private suite in the capitol building. The mood of the three of them during the dinner was subdued, and they avoided talking about the next day as much as they could, though Reinhard spoke about the future in general, bright tones. When they did talk about the wedding, it was in terms of "tomorrow's event" and they stayed tightly focused on the formalities of wheres and whens. It was easy to talk about the guest list, and to be glad that one ship of functionaries invited from Neue Land had arrived on time, and to wonder if those particular people had been a good choice to invite.
They didn't talk about how they were feeling, and so Kircheis didn't know. They all understood that something was about to change, that they were standing on a precipice and that the tenuous balance that they had struck these past few months was not destined to hold, but none of them could see the new shape that their lives were about to take.
At least, Kircheis couldn't. Reinhard wouldn't dare to think of anything except his own pleasant imaginings. Perhaps Annerose- and Kircheis had snuck glances at her all evening long, trying to read her thoughts about the future in her still face. There was nothing he could discern there, though.
Reinhard seemed more hale than he had been, the past few months. After they finished eating, though he had barely picked at his food, he got up and stood by the huge plate window, looking out over the colorful lights of Phezzan, one hand on his cane, the other holding a glass of wine. Kircheis watched him lean on it heavily, from his own vantage point on the couch. He kept looking across the room at Annerose, who sat at the piano, her fingers silently ghosting over the keys.
"I suppose this is the last time I'll see you like this for a while," Reinhard said, finally broaching the subject that they had been avoiding. It surprised Kircheis that he had brought it up, but, of course, neither he nor Annerose ever would have. Reinhard's tone was falsely light. "Since you'll be on your honeymoon for the next few weeks."
"It won't be that long," Annerose said. She took a breath, then added, "If you're worried, we could shorten it."
"Worried?" Reinhard asked. "What do I have to be worried about?" He hadn't looked away from the window back towards them. "Do I have to entreat that Kircheis takes good care of you, as you asked him to take care of me?" There was a scoff in his voice initially, but by the time he had reached the end of the sentence, he sounded almost considering.
"You know that's not what I meant, Reinhard," she said.
"If you think I'm so incapable of going three weeks without my sister, I don't know how you think I've survived so far," Reinhard said. "Please, enjoy your vacation without a single thought of me crossing your mind to disturb you."
Annerose just sighed. A pallid silence fell between the three of them until Kircheis said, "Did you want to sit down, Lord Reinhard?"
"No," he snapped. So long as he didn't move, he seemed steady enough, supported by his cane. He walked very slowly, these days. It was the moving from one position to another that was difficult for him, so perhaps he was just enjoying not being constrained to a chair for a moment. Kircheis didn't push, but he would have preferred Reinhard next to him on the couch. Still looking out the window, Reinhard said, "You will take care of Annerose, right, Kircheis?"
Kircheis glanced across the room at Annerose, not sure what she wanted him to say in response to that. Her eyes were fixed on the piano keys. "Would I even be capable of doing any different?" he asked.
Annerose's eyes met his for a brief instant. Perhaps that had been the wrong thing to say. He was capable of doing a great many things.
But Reinhard laughed anyway, not noticing what had passed behind his back. "I suppose not." Still, his fingers tightened on the head of his cane when he said, "Maybe I should even be jealous, with you taking care of my sister."
Kircheis wanted to protest and say that he would still take care of Reinhard, but Annerose cut in. "You just said you were capable of surviving without us," Annerose said.
"I did, didn't I?" He was childish, and petulant. "I guess we'll see if I can survive or not." Kircheis found his tone endearing, but Annerose's brow furrowed. Reinhard was half putting on an act, an exaggeration to avoid touching the hot white reality beneath. They both saw through it, but where it softened Kircheis's heart, it hardened Annerose's. He wanted nothing more than to hold Reinhard close; she wanted to shake him and tell him to grow up. Kircheis could read it in the tension of her shoulders, the way she bit her lip and narrowed her eyes. And she had said it, often enough.
"You will," Kircheis said. "And we'll be back."
"I know." Some of the whine dropped out of his voice, and he studied the glass in his hand before draining it completely. Suddenly, he laughed, but it was a hollow sound.
"Are you alright, Lord Reinhard?" Kircheis asked.
"I never thought to myself that I owned you," he said. "But I have to give you away, so I must have felt that way, at some point."
The tension in Annerose's hands finally broke, and her fingers slipped on one of the piano keys, causing it to plink out a mournful note. It hadn't even been clear which one of them Reinhard was referring to. It was an unexpected moment of honesty and self-reflection from him.
"You'll have us still. We'll still be here," Kircheis said. "Both of us." He projected as much reassurance in his voice as he could, but Reinhard didn't relax, and just shook his head, his hair cascading around his shoulders.
"Forget it," he said, but then kept talking, mostly to himself, it seemed. His voice was so low that if Kircheis and Annerose hadn't been barely even breathing, they wouldn't have heard it. "If I can't have-" He cut himself off with a rasping breath.
"What do you want, Reinhard?" Annerose asked. Her voice was harder than it should have been. Kircheis looked at her, asking her silently to be gentler. Reinhard didn't seem to notice her tone.
"Nothing," he said. "I have everything I could want, don't I?"
"If there is anything-" Kircheis began, but Reinhard shook his head again.
"There's not." He huffed. "I do want you to be happy." And he turned his head and smiled at Kircheis. "Like I said, don't think about me."
They lapsed into silence again. Perhaps it would have been better if they left, all three of them needing to sleep, but neither Kircheis nor Annerose wanted to be the first one to leave him. They rarely spent time with him together for this reason.
Annerose seemed uncomfortable with no one saying anything, so she started to play the piano, some tune that Kircheis vaguely recognized but couldn't put a name to. It wasn't a particularly complicated piece of music, but it was pleasant. It relaxed Reinhard.
"You used to play this when we were kids, didn't you?" he asked.
"Yes," she said. "I practiced it so much, I don't think I'll ever forget it. I learned it for that recital- the one where Frau Heller spilled the punch bowl all over the refreshments table."
"I remember that," Reinhard said. He laughed. "I loved to listen to you play. I still do."
"Even though you could go see the orchestra any time you like?"
"You know that's not the same," he said. "I don't know enough about art to really appreciate it. But I know enough about you."
"Do you?" she asked.
Kircheis thought about various saccharine things that Reinhard might have said, but Reinhard just listened to the music for a minute more.
"Are you looking forward to dancing tomorrow?" Reinhard asked.
"Have you ever danced at a party before?" Annerose aked, avoiding his question to ask her own.
"Of course I have," Reinhard said. Kircheis saw him smiling in the reflection in the window. "Baroness Westpfale would have had me shunned from society if I had dared to come to one of her soirees and not danced."
Kircheis and Annerose both laughed at that.
"I'm surprised she didn't tell you all about it."
"She only liked to gossip about you when you were getting in trouble."
The mood was a little lighter, now, Magdalena doing an admirable job of raising the tone of the room even when she wasn't in it. "I'm offended that she didn't consider that I caused trouble at her parties. Especially with my dancing. "
"Lord Reinhard-" Kircheis said, flushing.
"You were involved in some kind of trouble, Sieg? I can't imagine."
Reinhard's laugh was bright. "I dragged him into it."
Kircheis's ears were hot and red as his hair. "Only to amuse the baroness," he said. "It wasn't real trouble."
"Now you'll have to tell me," Annerose said. "What should I chastise Maggie about you getting up to?"
"Well, it was her fault," Reinhard said. "This was when Kircheis and I were living at Linbergstrasse. She had this lecture prepared for me about how I ought to be more, I believe she described it as 'circumspect.'"
"And I assume you didn't take her advice?" Annerose asked, still plunking the piano, though slightly more aggressively than before.
"I believe you told her to mind her own business," Kircheis said.
"Yes- and then she told me that if I wasn't going to take her advice on how to behave prudently, I should take her advice on how to behave imprudently."
"What terrible thing did Maggie tell you to do?"
"As I recall, she told me, 'If you're going to make people talk, at least give them something interesting to talk about!'" His imitation of Magdalena's voice was spot on, though Kircheis assumed she would have appended a 'darling' to it.
"You must not have, because I didn't hear any talk."
"I think the guests at that particular party were less likely to gossip than any other," Reinhard said. His tone had fallen. "Though I wouldn't have cared if they had."
"He's avoiding telling me what you actually did," Annerose said to Kircheis. "You at least will have to be honest with me, Sieg."
"I'm honest!" Reinhard protested. "Kircheis- come here."
Kircheis stood immediately and went to his side. Reinhard handed him his empty wine glass, and Kircheis put it down on the coffee table that was just slightly out of his reach; Reinhard hadn't wanted to move to put it down himself. But when he straightened, Reinhard clutched Kircheis's arm and tugged him close, his cane clattering to the floor.
Annerose stopped playing.
"No, keep going," Reinhard demanded in the sudden silence. It took a second for Annerose to strike up into a new song, during which time Reinhard adjusted his position carefully, clinging to Kircheis for support.
Reinhard's body wasn't frail, precisely, but it was burning hot to the touch, and there was a weakness in his movements and a clumsiness in his limbs that made Kircheis feel afraid of breaking him. Reinhard had no such compunctions, and when Annerose finally began playing again, he pushed Kircheis to move, even as he held on to stay upright. Kircheis wrapped his arms around Reinhard's back, and Reinhard rested his chin on Kircheis's shoulder.
"All we did was dance, Annerose," Reinhard finally said as they shuffled together. "Baroness Westpfale took a picture, but you made her get rid of it, didn't you?"
"Yes," Kircheis said. "I wish I hadn't."
"It's alright," Reinhard said. "I remember it just fine."
Kircheis nodded. It wasn't exactly the memory that he wanted- he knew he would always have that, even if it grew warped or brighter or stranger every time he thought about it. How many people had been watching them? He didn't know- all he had been cognizant of, or all he remembered himself being cognizant of, was the way Reinhard had smiled at him and grabbed his hands, the illicit feeling of dancing outside their shared apartment, and the way that didn't matter, not then, not at all. But he wanted some kind of tangible proof to connect to the memory. That had been too dangerous to have, but things were so different now.
Or, they were supposed to have been different, anyway.
Annerose was looking down at the piano, not watching them, but she played dutifully, even as her face froze into a mask, one that Kircheis couldn't interpret.
"I won't dance tomorrow," Reinhard said, barely audible over the piano. His cheek was on Kircheis's shoulder now.
"Not even with Lady Annerose?" Kircheis asked, in the same quiet voice. He resisted the urge to stroke Reinhard's back. It didn't feel appropriate, with Annerose right there.
"I don't think I'll ever dance again."
"Don't say that."
"I just don't want to," Reinhard said, and it was the false petulance in his voice again. His fingers, as much as they could move in his hand braces, crushed the fabric of Kircheis's uniform.
Kircheis nodded, and held him as they swayed together, taking tiny steps to Annerose's slow song, ignoring the false notes that kept creeping in to her playing.
There had never been a more beautiful wedding on Phezzan, and Kircheis had to wonder if there ever would be. He had not been even remotely involved in the planning of the event, and so was suitably awed by the airy building that had been chosen as the scene; the splendor of the flowers bedecking the hall; and the white ribbons rippling in the wind, drifting across the image of the golden lion flag.
The wedding was to take place in the afternoon, followed by dinner. Kircheis had spent most of his morning escorted from place to place, more overwhelmed by this than he would have been at a military campaign requiring the coordination of a hundred thousand times more people. He hadn't chosen a best man of any sort- who would he have picked? Mittermeyer probably would have been the safest choice, politically speaking, and they were indeed close friends. But he didn't feel like it was necessary, so he didn't have much of an entourage during the morning's preparations, aside from the staff who coordinated everything, and his parents, who hovered nearby with barely concealed anxiety. Did his mother think he was going to renounce his commitment to marriage at the altar? Run away? Kircheis couldn't tell.
He hadn't seen Annerose that morning, as she had told him it was bad luck. He hadn't seen Reinhard either, though he had seen some of his personal guards that he knew by sight, so Kircheis was sure he was around. He must have been with his sister, and so Kircheis made no attempt to find him.
Kircheis looked out through the heavy drapery towards the dais where the ceremony would be conducted, and at the crowd seated in rows all down through the hall. It wasn't the largest audience that had ever attended a wedding, but for all Kircheis would have wanted an intimate ceremony with as few people as possible, he had never bothered to voice that want, and so the staff had filled the guest list with everyone who would have been insulted to not receive an invitation. Even though this wedding was his, it wasn't for him; it was for the Neue Reich.
He convinced his parents to go take their seats, and he checked the time, an unusual feeling of anxiety in his stomach. He turned to one of the staff and asked, "Is Kaiser Reinhard coming in soon?"
"Yes, Your Excellency. He's with Princess Grunewald now. Did you need to speak with him?"
"No," Kircheis said. "I was just…" He trailed off. The empty chair at the front reserved for Reinhard occupied his vision, far more than the smiles of Mittermeyer and his wife, or Reuenthal's barely concealed grimace, or Hilde's anxious glances, or his parents holding hands, or the gentle hubbub of the rest of the crowd.
The time came for the actual ceremony to begin. Reinhard was still not in his seat, and Kircheis thought they would have to wait on him, until a slightly out of breath Emil von Selle, Reinhard's young personal aide, found Kircheis and said, "Your Excellency, His Majesty says to begin without him."
Kircheis tensed. "I should go speak with him," he said, and began to turn. "Is he still with Princess Grunewald?"
Emil grabbed his sleeve. "Your Excellency, please- His Majesty wants you to begin." The look on his face was very earnest. Kircheis peeked out at the hall once more, saw that all the rest of the relevant government officials who could have summoned disaster down on their heads were all sitting sedately, waiting for things to start, so it couldn't have been some real problem that Reinhard had suddenly been called to deal with that was causing him to delay.
Kircheis couldn't bear the thought of Reinhard being unable to face him as he married his sister. The night before, he had seemed fine- as much as he could have- but this change of heart had always been a possibility. Since he couldn't picture himself standing by and watching Reinhard marry someone else, he couldn't exactly blame him.
Even so, the idea of Reinhard not being there felt terrible, and looked worse. The whole reason behind having this wedding was for Reinhard to publicly show whose hands he wanted the Neue Reich to be left in. If Reinhard vanished on the day of, there would always be talk, no matter how many good excuses could be procured after the fact.
But there would be no talking Reinhard into something he didn't want to do. The only person who might have had that sway- Oberstein- was in Neue Land.
"Emil," Kircheis said, looking into the young man's face. "Are you sure?"
"Yes, Your Excellency," Emil said. "Princess Grunewald already understands."
Kircheis's heart sank in his chest as he once again looked out at Reinhard's empty seat, but he nodded and turned to the staff who were coördinating the event to tell them that they could begin.
The music struck up; the crowd hushed; Kircheis walked slowly to his place alone at the front of the room, the smile he forced onto his face heavier than his dress uniform on his shoulders. Every eye was on him; the gaze of the cameras stripped him bare.
In some distant part of his mind, as he turned his own sights on the heavy doors through which Annerose would enter the hall, he wondered what the people of Neue Land thought of this marriage. The splendor of it all was as different from the bombed out ruin of Heinessenpolis as one could get. Did they think he had forgotten?
He fixed the endless plain of rubble in his mind's eye; he was standing beneath the outstretched arm of the statue of Ale Heinessen; Reinhard's banner whipped in the wind above his head. Someone was coming across the plain towards him, painstakingly clambering over the piles of concrete. Their golden hair caught the dusty light. At this distance, it was impossible to tell who it was.
The door at the end of the hall creaked open, the music swelling, though Kircheis could hardly hear it over the sound of his own blood rushing through his ears.
Annerose was dressed in a white gown, one that trailed out behind her like a river. Her face, though covered by a veil, was visible, her lips perfect and pinched into a tiny smile. Her hair was studded through with tiny white flowers, and on her head was a delicate circlet of a crown.
But next to her, taking slow steps forward, their arms linked for support, was Reinhard. Their eyes locked across the distance; Kircheis couldn't look away from his face, even as his mouth opened, forming, 'Lord Reinhard,' though the sound died on his lips.
Reinhard wasn't smiling, not exactly, but the expression on his face was one of such intensity that it didn't matter. The universe had narrowed down to that single point, to the look that passed between them. Kircheis wished that the distance between the door and the dais was infinitely long, that Reinhard would never arrive, so that this moment between them would never have to end.
He knew this image would stay in his dreams for the rest of his life- in good ones where perhaps Annerose was not at his side, and Reinhard was coming down the aisle for Kircheis on his own; in bad ones where something terrible would happen when Reinhard arrived- but Kircheis was grateful for the image nonetheless.
Reinhard's white cape danced behind him, and the crown on his own head shone brighter than his hair. The cane in his other hand wobbled as he balanced between it and his sister. He and Annerose reached the dais and stopped before Kircheis, who blindly reached out his hands towards them. Reinhard took them, and placed them over Annerose's, all three of them connected for that moment.
"Take care of my sister for me, will you, Kircheis?" Reinhard asked, voice quiet enough that Kircheis doubted anyone but himself and Annerose could hear.
"I will," Kircheis said. "I promise."
"Good," Reinhard said. He pulled his hand away from Kircheis and Annerose's, and then smiled and reached up to tug on a lock of Kircheis's hair. "I always told you that you didn't have to be kind to anyone but us."
Kircheis didn't know what to say to that- as if he could have possibly said anything; his throat was a wall which no sound could pass.
Reinhard dropped his hand and stepped away, leaning heavily on his cane as he went. When he was almost to his seat, he stumbled, one knee hitting the floor, his hand reaching out for support but finding nothing. There was a muffled, collective gasp, and Kircheis tried to break away from Annerose to go towards him, but Annerose clutched his hands, and Commodore Kissling and Hilde, who was occupying the seat next to him, were closer and faster, and helped him up and into his chair.
The audience breathed easier after that, the ceremony finding its prescribed footing once again. It wasn't difficult to keep his eyes trained on Annerose, and she kept her eyes on him.
Her hands were soft in his as they professed their vows, and there was no lie in his voice when he promised to love and protect, to cherish and honor. He didn't look over at Reinhard, not even when he professed his steadfastness in sickness and in health. If he had looked, he might have lost his nerve entirely. But Kircheis was always good at doing what Reinhard needed him to do.
There was a glittering of tears in Annerose's eyes when he lifted up her veil, but she reached towards him, a permission, and pulled on a curl of his hair as Reinhard had so many times before. "Sieg," she whispered, which was enough to make it so that, eyes opened or closed, he couldn't imagine that he was kissing anyone else.
Even Kircheis, who had far more stamina than the average human being, was exhausted by the time they were finally able to leave the wedding celebration. He had remained the picture of composure, but it had taken every ounce of effort he had within him. Annerose must have been pulling from some deep well of practiced court behavior within herself, because she was poised and graceful the entire time. They ate and listened to speeches, danced, greeted those who needed to be greeted, and accepted congratulations with aplomb.
And they watched Reinhard draw into his own circle of confidences, calling Reuenthal over to himself, and Hilde, and Count Mariendorf in turns, never once getting up from his seat. When his eyes met Kircheis's across the room, either by accident or by design, he would open his mouth in a half smile, then look away and focus on whatever party guest was trying to curry favor with him at that moment. He left the party early, only calling Kircheis and Annerose over to say goodnight. It was a brief parting.
Finally arriving back at his house, the silence between the concrete walls was almost deafening, roaring in his ears. Alone, now, he could see the exhaustion in Annerose's posture, her hands trembling as she pulled her shoes off in the hallway. He had decided she probably wouldn't like him to carry her across the threshold, and so he hadn't, but he caught her elbow when she wobbled sideways, balancing on one heel.
"Thank you," she said.
"Do you want help?" Kircheis asked.
She closed her eyes, though it was exhaustion more than anything else. "Just the dress," she said. "It's hard to get out of."
He nodded, not trusting his voice not to reveal the strange beating of his heart. She put her hand on his arm as they walked through the house, not bothering to turn any of the lights on. She was well familiar with it by now, though this was the first night she would be staying here. He had had her over for dinner often enough in the time they had both been on Phezzan.
They ascended the stairs, and then were in the bedroom, where all of Annerose's belongings had already been brought over from the Mariendorf house, the essentials in a bag sitting by the foot of the bed, the rest of her clothing tucked neatly into the closet, across from Kircheis's row of uniforms. The bedroom was chilly, but with the lamp on, Kircheis almost thought it was cozy.
They looked at each other, then Annerose turned around and said, "Can you undo the buttons?"
Again, Kircheis nodded. He carefully brushed her hair out of the way, some of the last straggling white flowers falling out and drifting to the ground. The fabric of her dress was slippery, the buttons impossibly small and delicate, and his hands were oafish as he went through the repetitive motion, popping them out one by one, from her shoulderblades down to her hips, until the garment slid loose around her arms, and she turned back towards him.
They both understood what was happening, and what needed to happen, but that didn't stop Kircheis from feeling strange as he looked down at her. He reached out to touch her shoulder, but hesitated. When he did, his eyes caught the unfamiliar glint of the ring on his finger, and it startled him. He had already forgotten the plain gold band was there.
"Sieg," she said, looking up at him, "there's no way you can hurt me."
Had that been his hesitation?
He touched her shoulder and she shivered, goosebumps rising on her arms. He leaned forward and tilted her chin up so that they could kiss, a distant taste of wine in her mouth, waxy lipstick scuffing his teeth. He pushed her dress down with one hand, even as the other twisted in her hair, stroking back over her ear. She wiggled her arms free, then had to break the kiss in order to get the dress the rest of the way off, a full body operation that he really couldn't do anything to help with.
He could only look at her. She was intensely beautiful, the same kind of perfect that her brother was. They shared a flawless magnetism, like if one of them was in a room, all of the light was drawn towards them. He would have knelt at her feet, if she gave any indication of wanting that from him.
With her dress and undergarments pooling around her legs, she was nude, and he was clothed, and if she was used to that kind of situation, he didn't like to think about it. He and Reinhard had always been equals, and he had no interest in having power over her, or even the appearance of it. She was waiting for him to touch her, but instead he hastily began pulling off the sash of his dress uniform, somehow feeling the awkwardness of his teenage years sneak back up on him.
He had seen Reinhard naked plenty of times before- it was just the kind of thing that happened when sharing a room, going to the military academy- but he remembered the intensity of the first time that they had undressed each other, the newness of it. His hands had shaken then; they shook now.
He couldn't help but think about it, that past, even as he tried to keep his mind on the woman in front of him as she deftly unhooked the closures of his uniform jacket for him. He remembered it so clearly. It had been the night they had received their assignments upon the completion of their time at the military academy; they had come in plain white envelopes, spelling out- they had thought- their forthcoming separation. They had placed the unopened letters on their bedside tables and tried not to talk about what they would do without each other.
The sweetness of that memory was compounded by the relief of what the letters had contained: an assignment for the both of them to Capche-Lanka. It had hardly mattered that they were being sent to a frozen hell, because they would be able to keep each other warm.
She had gotten his jacket open, and his shirtsleeves beneath that, and he had been not entirely sure what to do with his hands while she did so. Now he could shrug them off, and his undershirt, too, leaving his chest bare for her to touch. Her fingers trailed through the hair on his chest, stopping over one of the shrapnel scars he had acquired during the early occupation of Neue Land. There were fourteen little ones, all along his left side, most in his leg. He had been very lucky that it hadn't been worse. He pulled her hand away from the scar when she seemed caught up in it, then smiled at her. Her eyes were wide. He kissed her palm. "From Neue Land," he explained. "Don't worry about it."
She touched his cheek gently. "A close call?" she asked.
"I've had closer. So have you."
Her breath shuddered, and she pulled her hand out of his so that she could undo his belt.
He didn't think that she had any scars. He couldn't really imagine any permanent marks on her skin, which was as smooth as glass. He remembered Reinhard's annoyance at the healing process when he had been shot during his duel. He had kissed that scar on Reinhard's arm more times than he could count. It was nearly invisible, years later, but he would never forget pulling a bullet out from the wound as Reinhard gritted his teeth and held out his arm, trusting him completely.
His pants fell around his ankles; he had been distracted again.
As he stepped out of them and kicked them away, she began to kneel. Heat rose to his face, and he almost stopped her. "You don't have to-" he started, but the words died in his mouth as she gently stroked his thigh and his fingers tangled in her yellow hair. He closed his eyes.
It all blended into a rush of sensations, memories that bubbled to the forefront of his mind that he didn't even attempt to push away.
The night Reinhard had been coronated as Kaiser, they had celebrated privately in his room, breathless and with a giddy, childish excitement that had been at odds with the solemnity of the day's event. Reinhard had placed the crown on his head, and knelt before him, saying, "I can make you Kaiser, too, you know. We'll rule together."
He had laughed and taken the crown off to put it back on Reinhard's head where it belonged. It had been funny, then, with the whole future at their feet.
"Stop," he said to her, taking a sharp breath. "We won't be able to- if you-"
Obediently, she withdrew, standing once again. He tugged her forward, grounded by the feeling of her body against his. Her skin was cool to the touch where Reinhard was always so hot. He gathered her in his arms. "Are you cold?" he asked.
"No," she said. "I'm alright." Her eyes were distant, too. Perhaps she was halfway to somewhere else, just like he was. It was that reminder that shook him, made him focus.
"You would tell me if you weren't?" he asked.
She didn't respond, but smiled and tugged on his hair. He kissed her again, deeply, and then they finally fell back onto the bed. Her weight on top of him felt almost insubstantial, and her hair cascaded around both their faces as she pressed her forehead against his. They were still for just a moment; he tried to calm his breathing, and then his hands slid up her waist, and he turned them both over, so that he hovered over her, just barely touching any part of her. She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, her legs around his.
He had always been more gentle than Reinhard was; it was his natural instinct. It led him to hesitancy, sometimes, and Reinhard would laugh at him and urge him to let go. He liked things whatever way that Reinhard wanted them, of course, but Reinhard wasn't here. Maybe someday she would tell him what she liked best, and he would be happy to give it to her, but that didn't seem likely to happen now, so he fell into the patterns that were familiar to him.
He tried to make it good for her, looking into her eyes, leaning close to kiss her, touching her softly. He did what he thought she would like, and she clung to him, her breathing irregular but loud, carrying little involuntary noises along with it. He whispered her name, burying his face in her shoulder; she held him close.
When it was over, they lay still for a minute. She stroked his hair as he rested his head on her chest. "Thank you," she said after a while.
"For what?" he asked, not quite able to turn to see her face. Her hand kept a steady motion in his hair.
"I'm glad it was you," she said. "That's all." It must have been difficult for her to say, because she let go of him, then shimmied out from under him to get up. He propped himself on his elbow to watch her go. She rubbed at her eyes, either out of tiredness or something else as she walked to the bathroom.
Kircheis lay flat on his back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. He tugged the covers up around himself, and was half-asleep by the time that Annerose returned. She hoisted her bag of belongings onto the bed near Kircheis's feet and looked through it, eventually pulling out a nightgown.
As she did, something heavy tumbled out of the bag and hit the floor with a dull thud. Kircheis sat up, yawning, and Annerose scrambled to retrieve what had fallen, trying to hide it from his sight.
"Did it break?" Kircheis asked, not even sure what it was.
"No," she said. She shoved the offending object back into the bag.
"Can I ask?"
She didn't answer the question for a moment, focusing on pulling her nightgown on over her head. Kircheis could have grabbed for the bag and looked inside, but he just waited.
"It's very stupid," she said. "I'm surprised Fleet Admiral Reuenthal didn't tell you to beware."
"What does Reuenthal have to do with anything?" Kircheis asked, genuinely confused. Although he liked Reuenthal as a friend, he was approximately the last person he wanted to think about on his wedding night.
Annerose reached into the bag and pulled out a dagger, the handle mother of pearl, the blade glinting in the soft light of the bedroom. She didn't meet his eyes when she said, "I kept it under my pillow."
Obediently, Kircheis lifted up the pillow at the head of the bed, giving Annerose a place to put the knife. She shook her head and opened the bedside table drawer, placing the knife inside.
"I'd be too worried about stabbing you in your sleep," she said.
Kircheis laughed, but she didn't. He pulled back the blankets so that she could get in bed with him. She looked at him for a moment before she did.
"I don't think I need to worry," he said. "I think we'll be okay."
Author's Note
not me ignoring phezzan canon weather it's tropical in my heart
HBSHBL e8 lives rent free in my head. it's probably the single best gaiden episode. or at least it's the one that activates the most of my brain worms. hey kircheis, you know it's not normal to only see your parents once in 8 years, and when you do see them to show up nearly by surprise, need to get drunk beforehand, and have a very strained conversation where your parents are absolutely definitely trying to pretend like you're not gay. the weird and complicated relationships that everyone on the empire side seems to have with their families... hmmmmmmmmmmmm
anyway i had to address the fact that his parents exist and clearly would have thoughts about him getting married. i didn't want to spend too long on it though- i suppose it's an open question on if their relationship actually gets "repaired" to a meaningful degree
i also thought it was necessary to have a reinhard, annerose, and kircheis are alone in a room together scene. they all have a lot of complicated emotions and all of them are bad at expressing them. the dancing was the image that popped into my head as like the emotional core of the scene and i constructed the rest around it
similarly, the walking down the aisle was the key image that held the wedding scene together for me. it's kinda designed to hurt you i guess. sorry for that.
i think that doing the wedding night scene from annerose's perspective would have been somewhat rough. so we get kircheis and his trip down memory lane instead.
title is from the mountain goats song 'harlem roulette'. the loneliest people in the whole wide world are the ones you're never going to see again!
www. youtube watch? v= _seYw-92jn0
thank you very much for reading- let me know what you think! i love to hear from you 3
thank you very much to em for the beta read! i'm on twitter natsinator and tumblr javert . you can join my discord here discord .gg /2fu49B28nu or check out my other work at gayspaceopera. carrd .co