Transcendental Youth

Although Thomas had promised the duke that he would be able to come into the capital to see him Sunday afternoon, he had agreed to that without considering that Carson would not like him to take off a random chunk of time, especially with rather little advance warning. But, of course, it wasn't particularly difficult to lie to get what he wanted. So, one morning when Carson was striding through the servants' hall in his usual gruff way, Thomas got his attention.

"Herr Carson, I was wondering if I could take Sunday afternoon and evening off," Thomas said.

Carson, who had been carrying a bottle of wine towards his office from the cellar, stopped in his tracks. "And why would you expect to do that?"

"I just got a phone call from my doctor," Thomas lied, and held up his hand. "He's had a cancellation, and he wants to move up my regular checkup, since I said I was having trouble with the knuckles." His voice lapsed into mumbles under Carson's glare.

"I would appreciate if you could learn that this house is not run according to your schedule, Thomas," Carson said. "Although certain people act like it, you are not here as a charity case; you are here to perform your job. You cannot do that if you are not here."

"Is that 'yes' or 'no', Herr Carson?"

"Go," Carson said. "But I won't let you make a habit of it."

Thomas wondered after he left, if it wouldn't have been better if Carson said no. Perhaps he would have handed in his notice then and there, and showed up to the duke's hotel room ready to join his employ. But he knew he shouldn't be so rash, so he just said, "Thank you, Herr Carson."

Carson shook his head and left.

So, on Sunday, Thomas dressed as nicely as he plausibly could for a trip to the doctor, and strolled out of the Grantham house, feeling about as good as he ever had. Even the chilly and rather long walk into town to catch the train into the capital didn't bother him, and from there it was only a matter of keeping his anticipation in check to get to the hotel. He didn't want to walk so fast that he arrived early or, worse, sweaty.

When he reached the hotel, the white marble facade was a chilly blue in the cloudy afternoon light, and Thomas strode up the steps to the lobby, looking as assured as he could. No one stopped him as he strolled inside. He doubted that the duke would appreciate him stopping at the reception desk and calling attention to himself, so he waited until the right moment.

He watched a woman trying to wrangle three well-dressed but misbehaving children into the elevator. When one child tossed his hat across the room, Thomas helpfully picked it up, and the woman was so grateful that she didn't care that he ended up in the elevator with her, smiling as he punched the button for the top floor without swiping his room key card. She and her kids got off on the fourth floor, and Thomas continued up alone.

Thomas knocked on the duke's door. There was a moment of silence, and then the door opened with a quiet click, revealing the duke. The moment his eyes settled on Thomas, his face lit in a smile.

"Thomas," he said, in that funny, purring way of his, and held the door wide so that he could enter. Thomas did, his heart pounding, and the duke shut the door behind him.

His hotel suite was beautiful, clean and light in a style that appeared distinctly foreign to Thomas's sensibilities, all sweeping lines and sparkling glass. He only had a moment to admire it, though, before the duke caught his sleeve and pulled him forward. Thomas didn't resist, and they ended up tumbling backwards onto the first piece of furniture in their path: a couch. Thomas sprawled across the duke's chest, his lower body hooked in place by the duke's left leg, while his right rested almost casually off the couch on the floor. Thomas couldn't imagine it was comfortable, but they were face to face, and the duke laughed.

"You seemed surprised to see me," Thomas said. "Did you think I wouldn't come?"

In answer, the duke pulled Thomas forward, hand on the nape of his neck, and kissed him, as hungry as anyone had ever been.

This was not quite unexpected, and it certainly was not unpleasant, but it left very little room for conversation, with the duke's hands traipsing along his back, slipping into every crack they could find in his clothing. Thomas wasn't sure what to do with his own hands, as he was balanced on the couch much more precariously than the duke was. Though the duke seemed to be quite comfortable with Thomas's weight atop him, in order to keep himself from falling off the couch, Thomas didn't have as much freedom of movement. The duke seemed to enjoy that, too. Whenever Thomas tried to re-orient himself, or move down the duke's body, the duke tugged on his hair to stop him.

So Thomas busied himself with kissing Philip, and things progressed in such a contented haze that Thomas hardly registered that the duke was stripping him of his clothing piece by piece, having pulled his jacket off him immediately, then tugged at his shirt patiently until all the loose buttons slipped free. When Philip pushed at him, Thomas moved, pliable, and his arms ended up out of his sleeves, ever so gradually. Eventually, the shirt lay discarded on the ground. He only came to his senses when, to get his undershirt off, the duke had to pull it off over his head.

"Let me," Thomas said, and tried to move. The duke allowed him to sit up, and he sat up as well, but as soon as Thomas reached for the duke's shirt, the duke just pushed Thomas back. Thomas relented, though he felt strange doing so.

"Later," the duke said. "We'll have time." And he kissed the hollow of Thomas's throat, his hands blindly undoing Thomas's belt and shoving his pants down. When they caught on the shoes that Thomas had not yet removed, the duke used his own socked feet to pry them off, the whole time touching Thomas through his underwear, tracing lines on his stomach. Philip tucked his chin on Thomas's shoulder, occasionally lifting it enough to tongue at his ear, or lowering it enough to nip his collarbone. Thomas wondered if Philip wanted him to beg, and he bit his lip, trying not to make any sound, trying to retain some modicum of control over himself as he stroked him through the fabric.

The half-touch, like how he held the duke's neck with his gloved hand, was empty of everything except pressure, but that may have been for the best. Every one of his nerves was boiling beneath his skin, and all he could do was feel it, the duke not wanting him to move. Against his conscious effort, he let out a half-whine of breath and bucked his hips into the duke's hand, which made Philip chuckle.

"Yes, Thomas," he said into his ear, and Thomas flushed and had to turn his face away, eyes closed. The duke pressed a kiss to his throat, where he was sure his heartbeat must have been visible for how wild the rush of blood in his head felt.

He came quickly under the duke's hand, and the underwear stopped him from making a mess of anything other than himself. He calmed his breathing, and the duke smiled languidly, traced his hand down Thomas's chest once more for good measure, then stood from the couch and stretched, the picture of composure despite his disheveled hair and clothing. He appraised Thomas, lying undone on the couch, and his smile was pleased.

With the duke no longer on top of him and instead picking him apart with his gaze, Thomas's self-consciousness came roaring back, and he struggled to sit, grateful that he still had his underwear on, but feeling far too exposed. He looked up at the duke and struggled to find his voice, but Philip had looked away from him, to glance at his watch with a grimace, and he spoke before Thomas could think of anything to say.

"Take a shower," he said. "There's fresh clothes for you in the bathroom."

So, it was to be like that. He wasn't so naive as to think that the duke hadn't planned all of this, taking off his clothes so that he would be more willing to wear something else. But the duke had been right: he wouldn't protest. When he stood, the duke caught his waist before he could walk away. Thomas stopped, and their eyes met.

"I'm so happy you came," the duke said. This line was delivered so sincerely, with such a gentle little smile and warm caress of his side, that Thomas felt dizzy. If the duke had asked him for anything in that moment, Thomas wasn't sure he would have been able to refuse. But the duke just nudged him in the direction of the bathroom, and Thomas went.

In the bathroom, as Philip had said, he found a box that he presumed contained clothes, but he didn't look inside. As he showered, the water almost hotter than he could bear, he wondered what the duke was to have him wear. Lingerie? He wouldn't mind that, he didn't think.

The soap in the shower was perfumed and made a rich lather, and when he stepped out, the towels were the softest he'd ever used. He tried not to think too hard about the luxury, because if he did, he may have begun to resent it, and he didn't want himself to spoil the evening.

When he was dry, he finally opened the box. Inside, he found none of the lace or leather he might have been expecting, but a dinner suit, in a rather elegant and modern cut, along with cufflinks and socks and garters and all the rest. He wouldn't mind going out to have dinner in the hotel's restaurant in this, not at all.

Thomas put the outfit on, and it fit surprisingly well. There was even a pair of shiny new black shoes with pointed toes. He laced them on, then contemplated himself in the mirror, slicking back his hair. The only thing that remained of his original outfit was the leather glove on his left hand, which Philip had not provided a replacement for.

Wearing the outfit was like slipping into a new skin, with only his hand marking him as his original self. He smiled thinly at his reflection, then left the bathroom.

Philip had changed clothes while Thomas had showered, and Thomas was faintly disappointed that he hadn't had the chance to dress the duke: it would have been an excellent opportunity to prove his worth as a valet, among other things.

"Oh, good, I'm glad you're dressed," Philip said when he turned away from his bedroom mirror to look at Thomas. "We're going to have to hurry, or we'll be unfashionably late."

"Do you have a dinner reservation?" Thomas asked.

"No. I've been invited to dinner by Baroness Westpfale. She said she did not mind a Phezzani friend of mine joining me, so you're coming. It will make the evening much more entertaining."

"Entertaining?" Thomas asked, suddenly prickly. The clothes he was wearing were feeling more like a costume by the second. "I won't be made a fool of."

"Were you planning to make a fool of yourself?" Philip asked.

Thomas frowned but said nothing. The duke smiled and traced his hand down Thomas's chest, tugging ever so slightly at the cravate at his throat. Thomas's further objections died in his mouth.

"No one there will know you. And why should I lie about introducing a friend from Phezzan to the social scene on Odin? Be Thomas-" He broke off and laughed, suddenly, "I'm sorry- I just realized I don't have an inkling of your family name."

"Barrow."

"Well, you can be Thomas Barrow, heir to some magnate on Phezzan. Just for the evening. No one will know the difference. Gods know that Phezzan is stuffed to bursting with useless sons of men no one's heard of who are richer than the Kaiser." He chuckled. "That's half the appeal of the place."

"I'm nothing like them," Thomas said.

"No," Philip said, an appraising tone in his voice. His fingers played with the buttons on Thomas's chest. "And that's half your appeal."

"What's the other half?"

Philip's mouth curled into a funny smile. "What do you think?" Teasing. He tapped Thomas's chest, then dropped his hand. "I had my car brought around."

"Should we leave together?"

"This hotel caters to Phezzanis," Philip said. That made the foreign looking decor much more understandable. "They how how to be discreet."

So, although he was now feeling rather trepidacious, Thomas followed Philip out to a waiting car on the street. Philip slipped into the driver's seat without hesitation, but immediately engaged the automatic steering when they pulled onto the busy city street. He kept his hands on the wheel, but they were slack, and it seemed mostly an excuse to have something to do with his hands.

They were mostly silent on the drive, but Thomas was curious enough to ask, "You didn't bring your driver or valet?"

"I'm not planning on spending much time on Odin, so I like to give them plenty of chances to visit their families while I'm here," Philip said, bored of the question. "I'm capable of living without an entourage, at least for a few days at a time."

"When are you planning to leave?"

"The end of the season, at the latest. I like to be the first to go, so that all the interesting people follow me out. I can't bear Odin, honestly." He looked out the window of the car. "It's a miserable planet. If it wasn't home, I would never come here."

"It's better than where I come from," he said.

"Mm."

The Baroness Westpfale's house rose out of the evening gloom, not too far out of the city limits. It was large and well kept, surrounded by gardens that would have been beautiful in the summer, or in the daylight. As it was, the whole scene had a brooding air, and the lit windows cut into the stone only added to the atmosphere.

There were other cars parked in the drive when Philip parked them down at the end of the line. Though they were late to arrive, they weren't that much later than the other guests: a few were still getting out of their cars and walking up to the building. Philip checked his reflection in the rearview before getting out, but Thomas's attention was fixed on the car parked directly in front of them: he recognized the plate as belonging to the Granthams.

"I can't go in there," Thomas said, clenching his leather-gloved hand.

The duke looked over at him. "Why not?"

"Someone from the Grantham family is in there."

"It's not Lady Mary," the duke said, sounding completely nonchalant. "I made sure she wouldn't be."

"It's someone," Thomas said. "I can't-"

"Really, Thomas?" the duke asked. The disappointment in his voice stung harder than anything else. He sighed and leaned back in his seat. "I swear that no one here would say a word, even if there is someone from the Grantham family here. It's not that kind of party. Baroness Westpfale picks her guest list carefully."

"But she lets you invite someone she doesn't know?" Thomas asked. "That's not careful."

"She trusts me." He looked at Thomas, stared him down. "There's nothing I can say to convince you? Nothing I could promise?"

There was something that he could promise that would make Thomas waltz in at his side, uncaring about the Grantham family. "If something did happen, you could promise to-"

It was at this moment that another car pulled in behind them. Philip turned in his seat to see who was getting out of the car. "Ah, Count Lohengramm is here after all," he said.

Thomas turned to look. Not only was Count Lohengramm stepping out of the passenger seat, but from the driver's seat, Siegfried emerged, dressed exactly as nicely as the count was. They walked up to the house together, speaking softly enough that Thomas couldn't hear their conversation, but he could see the happy light in the count's eyes, and how he reached over to tug a curl of Siegfried's blood-red hair, making him smile.

He suddenly understood much better what kind of party this was. The sight of Siegfried had fortified him.

"If the Granthams fire me, you'd make sure I-"

"You'll come?" Philip asked, smiling. "No one will say a word."

"Yes," Thomas said, though his heart was in his throat. The pleased look on Philip's face was enough to make him agree, even though he still had the sinking feeling that he was walking into a viper's den.

"Excellent."

They walked up to the house together, though they didn't walk shoulder to shoulder as Siegfried and Count Lohengramm had. The duke perhaps wanted to keep some semblance of distance.

A footman let them into the house, and led them through to the library, which was already full of people standing about and talking. Thomas scoured the room for which member of the Grantham family he was going to be faced with. His eyes landed on Lady Sybil and, next to her, Matthew Crawley, who looked distinctly uncomfortable as a woman Thomas didn't know leaned towards him with a wide grin on her face.

The baroness' butler announced them at the door. "The Duke of Crowsburg, and Herr Barrow of Phezzan."

Various party guests turned to look at Thomas and the duke, and though most eyes settled on Philip as a man of status, Lady Sybil looked directly at Thomas, and her mouth opened in a silent 'o' of surprise. It was Siegfried who came to Thomas's rescue, once again, stopped him from standing quite so frozen. Siegfried saw Thomas's deer-in-the-headlights look, gave him a smile, and then gestured for Count Lohengramm to go over to talk to Lady Sybil, distracting her.

Thomas was distracted, too, because he didn't see the woman who had been antagonizing Matthew Crawley move until she came over to speak to the duke.

"Philip!" she said with a smile, and grabbed his arms in order to enthusiastically kiss both his cheeks. She was dark haired and young, though maybe a few years older than Thomas. She wore a vivid blue dress, an electrifying color that illuminated her eyes. "I knew you couldn't keep yourself away."

"If there's one thing that can be said about you, Maggie, it's that you know how to keep a man entertained."

She laughed, a tinkling, practiced sound. "Flatterer."

"Perhaps."

"Who is your friend?" she asked, turning to Thomas. She smiled at him, and suddenly Matthew's reaction to her made sense: her gaze was positively predatory. Thomas didn't flinch: she didn't know him.

"Baroness Westpfale, this is Herr Thomas Barrow. He's the friend from Phezzan I mentioned."

"You have so many friends from Phezzan, it's impossible to keep track. You are a handsome devil, though," she said to Thomas. "And I'm very happy to meet you."

"Charmed," Thomas managed to say.

The baroness laughed again. "Have you ever been to Odin before?"

"No," Thomas said, very truthfully, "this is my first time."

"Well," she said. "I hope that my humble little entertainments convince you that life on Odin is worth living." She didn't seem humble at all.

"You haven't managed to convince Philip of that," Thomas said, and the baroness's smile only grew wider.

"I know, and it's a shame. I keep saying, life is entertaining on Odin when all the entertaining people are around. If they're all rushing to leave as soon as they can, it leaves the rest of us in a rather dreary state." She nudged Philip's arm. "But we make do when you're gone, I suppose."

"I'm sure I contribute very little to the atmosphere, in the grand scheme of things," Philip said.

"You, and everybody else who has your exact outlook," she said, annoyed. "It's like every drop in the ocean evaporates at once at the end of the season."

"If all you're going to do is whine about how I should live my life, I think I shall go talk to Count Lohengramm instead," the duke said.

The baroness laughed. "Then I'll go talk to Peter, who I am sure you are planning to avoid." She gave the duke one last touch on his arm, and flitted away across the room to chat with a different circle of young men and women, sitting or standing around one of the couches.

"Peter?" Thomas asked.

"The Marquess of Hexham," the duke said, and nothing else. He began walking towards the small group that included Count Lohengramm, Siegfried, Lady Sybil, and Matthew Crawley. Thomas absolutely did not want to follow, but he had little choice.

There was a startled moment of recognition in the count's eyes when he looked at Thomas, but Siegfried's calm smile seemed to stop him from saying anything, and the moment was gone.

"Count Lohengramm, I'm so pleased that Maggie was able to drag you out into proper society," the duke said. "I've been looking forward to seeing you again."

"The Baroness Westpfale is known for having her way," Count Lohengramm said dryly. "Though I would have seen you again at the hunt later this month."

The duke turned to Sybil and Matthew. "And, of course, a pleasure to see you both again, as well. I must say, I did not expect to encounter you here." He nodded at Matthew.

"My father wouldn't let me come without a chaperone," Sybil supplied. "I'm afraid I rather forced Matthew's hand."

The duke smiled. "I should make various introductions. This is a friend of mine from Phezzan, Thomas Barrow. This is Count Reinhard von Lohengramm; Matthew von Crawley, the heir to the Grantham estate; Lady Sybil von Crawley, the Count of Grantham's youngest daughter; and…" He turned to Siegfried, his brow furrowed.

"Captain Siegfried Kircheis," Siegfried supplied. "I work for Count Lohengramm." He must have been borrowing the name of one of the count's real staff.

"Pleasure," Thomas said.

"What is it that you do on Phezzan, Herr Barrow?" Count Lohengramm asked. It was a pointed question, but there wasn't any malice in it.

"Very little, I'm afraid," Thomas said. Now that he was here, he had to act the part. The words came out without much trouble. "I've come to Odin to see if I can't make something of myself." Best to keep the lie as close to the truth as possible.

"An admirable goal," Siegfried said. "Lady Sybil was just talking about her own plans to get an education."

Thomas looked at her, and she must have caught the quiet pleading in his face, because she made a clear decision to play along. Even if it was just for the sake of preventing a scene in front of Count Lohengramm, Thomas still appreciated her deft smile. "I doubt my father would approve," she said. "But I think I would like to go to Odin National University. It's hard to do much in life without an education."

"I couldn't agree more," Matthew said. "Did you attend university?" he asked Philip.

"On Phezzan," Philip said. "I studied business."

Matthew nodded and looked at Count Lohengramm.

"Kircheis and I attended a military academy," Count Lohengramm said. "It was enough of an education to learn what I needed to know about being in the fleet, but little more than that."

"I appreciated my time there," Siegfried said. "In a different life, I wouldn't have minded studying something other than war, but I am grateful to the education I received nonetheless."

"You could always go back to school when you retire from the fleet," Matthew said.

Siegfried smiled. "I'm not planning to leave the fleet any time soon. But perhaps."

"There comes a time in a person's life when they can learn more outside of school than they can in it," Count Lohengramm said. "I'm sure Kircheis and I are already at that point."

"I don't doubt it," Matthew said.

Although they would have probably kept talking, their conversation was interrupted by the signal to go in to dinner. It felt exceedingly strange for Thomas to sit down at this meal, when he had spent so much of his life being one of the footmen who stood around the table, dishes in hand. He at least knew how to behave, from so many years of observing his employers.

Thomas ended up between the duke and a young woman on his left side, who ignored him completely to speak with the woman on her other side. The duke was fairly close to the head of the table, and Thomas was perfectly poised to listen to the conversations around him, passing between the various people he knew or had been introduced to.

"So, Sybil," Baroness Westpfale said over the soup, an evil trill in her voice, "you must tell me all about your mystery gentleman."

Matthew Crawley's eyebrows shot up, but he didn't say anything.

"I don't have a mystery gentleman," Sybil protested. "It's not like that."

"It's not?" the baroness asked. "When you told me about him, you told me all about how you were pretending to suddenly be obsessed with shopping in order to go on long walks through the city with him and meet all his friends."

"I don't think I described it like that."

"Please, feel free to clarify!"

"He's just a friend."

"A friend whose name you refuse to say, or how you met him, or who his family is, or any of the details that you would think your friends who care about you would want to know." The baroness's lips curled. "Sybil, darling, it must be truly scandalous if you won't even tell us !" And she looked around the whole table.

Sybil followed the baroness's gaze, and when her eyes met Thomas's, it was her turn to have a frozen moment of uncertainty. Thomas silently thanked the gods for the baroness's pot-stirring, giving him a measure of security. Ammunition. Thomas gave her an almost imperceptible nod, and she relaxed and smiled at the baroness again.

"It's nothing," Sybil said. "He's just someone I know. And he only introduced me to his friends because I wanted to know people at ONU."

"He's a student, then?" Magdalena asked.

"I didn't say that."

"He's not a student." Her eyebrows raised. "A professor?"

It was Matthew's turn to look concerned.

"No! Gods. He's just a friend, and my parents wouldn't like me to be friends with him. That's all."

"Like they don't like you to be friends with me?" the baroness asked.

Sybil shook her head and looked down into her soup.

"Is he handsome, at least?" Sybil flushed, which made the baroness laugh. She touched Sybil's arm. "Alright, I'll leave you alone. But I do want to know. I'm a curious creature, to my detriment."

Across from Thomas, Count Lohengramm spoke up, rescuing Sybil and the conversation. "I hear you went to visit my sister yesterday."

"And how did you hear that, I wonder?" the baroness asked. "It's true, though."

"Is she well?"

"As ever," Magdalena said. There was some evasiveness in her tone, and the count stared her down. "She asked me about your house."

"My house?" The flatness in the count's voice verged on disgusted.

"Yes." The baroness twirled her hair. "The Kaiser would like to know when you are going to take up residence in the estate that he has granted you. It looks quite ungrateful if you refuse to use it."

"I appreciate the Kaiser's generosity," Reinhard said. "But I have more important things to do than worry about moving house."

"I'm sure," the baroness said. "Sadly, most of the court is going to care more about you living in a hovel than they do about any victory you have at Astarte."

Thomas was offended on the count's behalf; though his rented rooms were small and strange, they were quite nice.

"Where are you living?" the duke asked, suddenly curious.

"It's not a hovel," Siegfried said. "Lord Reinhard has been renting a flat outside the capital for several years."

"And you, with him," the baroness pointed out.

Siegfried just smiled.

"It's not very circumspect, you must admit," the baroness said to the table at large. "But everyone ignores my prudent and worthwhile advice about how to behave."

"I'm not sure I would ever describe your advice like that," the duke said.

"Do you think if I started giving imprudent advice, people would listen to me more?"

"What imprudent advice would you give me?" Count Lohengramm asked.

"Darling, if you're going to live in a way that makes people talk, you should at least give them something interesting to talk about!"

That did make Count Lohengramm laugh, and it was a sparkling sound to match the baroness's. As soon as it ended, Thomas found himself wanting to hear it again, but Siegfried caught his eye across the table, and Thomas had the sudden sensation that the two of them were a world unto themselves, and that he, looking in on them, knew nothing about who they were, nothing at all. It was a strange feeling, and Thomas glanced at the duke, who had an equally strange expression on his face.

Unfortunately, Siegfried's glance at Thomas drew the baroness's attention. "Herr Barrow," she said, "I'm delighted that you could join us tonight. I hope you don't have too busy a schedule while you're visiting Odin."

"I'm fairly busy," Thomas said, trying to stay cool under the unexpected address. "But I can make time when I need to."

"That's a quality I appreciate in a man," the baroness said, with a gleam in her eye. "I'm curious: how did you meet Philip on Phezzan?"

"Oh, just at some party," Philip said. "I hardly remember. I was quite drunk, I believe."

"Your father is well off on Phezzan, Philip mentioned?"

"Yes," Thomas said.

"What from?" she asked. "I suppose it's crass to speak of such things at dinner, but it's always so curious to me that Phezzanis have something that makes them money, rather than simply having money."

Thomas floundered for a second, the image of his father in the dark back rooms of his shop completely at odds with the image that the baroness- and everyone else- needed him to paint. The lie that came to him first was the one he went with. "Chronometers," Thomas said. "He designed an improvement for chronometers on merchant ships. It helps with their navigation."

"Ah." This seemed to be the one thing that stopped the baroness in her tracks. Thank goodness that she had no interest in technical detail, because Thomas wouldn't have been able to provide any. He saw Count Lohengramm open his mouth, but Siegfried must have given him some sort of signal under the table, because he shut it immediately.

The baroness let the talk around the table slide down into less fraught subjects for the rest of the meal. Though the food was assuredly delicious, Thomas could barely taste it. He was so focused on the conversation, and not letting himself slip in his strange persona and ruin the game.

After dinner, the whole assembly went through into a hall, in which the furniture had been rearranged to facilitate drinking and dancing. Music was playing from some cleverly hidden speakers, though there was a piano in the corner that no one was touching. It seemed that most of the guests preferred to loiter by the sides of the room rather than dance.

Philip stood next to Thomas by a window, both of them with glasses of wine in their hands.

"How are you enjoying Maggie's party?" Philip asked.

"I've never been to a stranger one."

Philip laughed. "She'd take that as a compliment, if you said it to her. But are you glad I convinced you to come?"

Thomas looked at Sybil across the room. Baroness Westpfale had wrapped her arm around Sybil's waist and was holding her tight to her side as they had a conversation with Matthew. "I'm sure I'll find that out, soon enough," Thomas said. "If something does happen-"

"Later," Philip said. But his hand brushed the small of Thomas's back, and Thomas shivered, and his misgivings left his mind with the ghost of a touch.

They watched the other party guests mill around, and then the baroness abandoned Sybil and swooped down on Philip.

"Dance with me," she demanded of him.

"Must I?" Philip asked.

"There is nothing worse in this world than a party at which no one dances," she said, and her tone brooked no disagreement. Philip put his wine down on a nearby table and relented, stepping out into the center of the floor with her, to sway to the music. Thomas could just barely hear their conversation.

"Are you still planning to court Mary von Crawley?" the baroness asked.

"I am. Why?"

"Oh, I was just hoping you'd court me instead. We'd make a good team."

"I doubt it."

"No? You wouldn't even want a wife who's capable of entertaining herself while you spend all your time on Phezzan without her?"

"The problem with you, Maggie, is that your entertainments are usually designed to cause me trouble."

"I would never."

"You may not care what I do on Phezzan, but you would certainly start to care about how I manage my estate. That's the kind of entertainment that troubles me."

"Oh, how could you accuse me of such a thing."

"I can't have a wife with a title of her own," Philip said, and it was unclear how much of it was jest. "That's the kind of thing that tends to give a woman bad ideas."

The baroness laughed.

Thomas would have continued listening to their conversation, but Sybil came over to him.

"Maggie is forward enough to demand a dance, but I'm not sure I am," Sybil said.

"Are you asking?"

"I suppose I am. Unless you don't want to."

Although she was offering him an out, Thomas didn't see an easy way to take it. It wasn't like they hadn't danced together before, at the servants' ball, back home. That had been years ago, though, and the circumstances couldn't have been more different.

"It's been a long time since I've done this," Thomas said, heading out onto the dance floor. There were more couples there, now that Magdalena had broken the ice, but most of them were treating the dancing with an irreverence that Thomas was unused to, trading partners every few steps, dancing what he supposed must be modern moves that he had just never seen before. Sybil took his hands in a much more formal way. They moved in silence for a few steps.

"I won't ask what you're doing here," Sybil said. "I don't think it's my business to know."

"I appreciate that," Thomas said.

"You're lucky," she said. "I almost got Edith to come with me, instead of Cousin Matthew."

"Lucky indeed."

"You won't tell my father about any of this?" Sybil asked. The incredulous look Thomas gave her in response was enough to make her look sheepish. "I know, a silly question."

"How is Herr Crawley enjoying the party?"

Sybil looked over her shoulder. Matthew was talking amicably to a group of men that included Count Lohengramm and Siegfried.

"He won't say anything, either," Sybil said. "Though I don't think he recognized you."

"No, he didn't."

"But even if he figures it out…" She shook her head. "He likes Maggie, and this is her party. He wouldn't do anything that would upset her."

"And if the baroness knew?"

"She would be entertained," Sybil said. "But she's not going to find out."

Thomas nodded. "Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me," Sybil said. She couldn't quite meet his eyes. "You know, the other day, a friend of mine told me that I couldn't even pretend not to be a lady. It's baked into who I am."

Thomas wasn't sure where she was going, but she sounded confessional, so he just nodded.

"You do a better job of pretending," Sybil said.

"That's all it is, m'lady. Just pretend."

"But it shouldn't be." She was distressed, in a way that Thomas didn't understand. "There are people who understand that we're all the same, just people. There can't be so much difference between us."

Thomas was silent for a second, thinking of how to respond. "I know who I am, m'lady. And when we leave here, I'm not going to pretend any different. I won't have the chance."

She nodded. "I wish…"

The song ended. Sybil offered Thomas a smile, and he nodded and dropped her hands. "I hope you are enjoying the party."

"Oh, I am, really," she said. "I should make sure Cousin Matthew doesn't feel like I've abandoned him."

"Of course."

Thomas was happy to let her go, and he sidled back over to the side of the party. Philip abandoned whatever conversation and sidled back over to Thomas. "I did say that there wouldn't be any problem, didn't I?"

"You say that now," Thomas said. "You're more trusting of this lot than I am."

"Perhaps because they are my lot," Philip said. "I know how they operate."

That was the core of it, wasn't it?

"But you trust me, don't you, Thomas?" Philip asked.

Thomas found himself nodding.

Their attention was captured by a drama that was beginning to unfold across the room. The baroness had, at some point, demanded that Siegfried dance with her, and they were, traipsing across the dance floor at a speed she had set. This left Count Lohengramm positively seething on the sidelines, his champagne glass clutched in a white-knuckled hand, his frown visible from space.

"If Maggie has one skill, it's making everyone dance to her tune," Philip said with a dry chuckle. "He's been friends with her for long enough that he should know that."

They continued to watch the baroness and Siegfried dance, and Count Lohengramm scowl. When the song ended, it appeared that the baroness had no intention of releasing Siegfried from her clutches, but Count Lohengramm stalked over.

Thomas and Philip were too far away to hear what words were exchanged between them, but the conversation ended with Magdalena laughing, throwing her head back, and letting go of Siegfried. The music struck up again.

The world had narrowed to a single point, there in the center of the room. Siegfried and Count Lohengramm were dancing. The count's golden hair flashed in the light, and he had his hand tenderly on Siegfried's waist. They moved like one being, perfectly responsive to each other's movements. They turned and stepped lightly, looking only at each other and ignoring the rest of the room.

Thomas was bitterly jealous. He stepped closer to Philip, who was also watching the pair dance. Philip's hand searched blindly in the air at his side, and then his fingertips came to rest on the back of Thomas's right hand. A fluttering, almost invisible touch.

"They're living in a different world from the rest of us," Philip said after a moment. "Good luck to them."

That answered a question that Thomas hadn't been able to bring himself to ask.

Across the room, he spotted the baroness with her phone out, taking a photograph of the dancing couple. Nobody else seemed to notice her doing this, least of all Siegfried or Count Lohengramm. They trusted her too much, all of them did.

When the song ended, Siegfried whispered something into the count's ear, and Count Lohengramm emerged from whatever daze he had been in. He smiled at Siegfried, then let go of him and walked off the dance floor, tossing his hair in the baroness's general direction as he did. Siegfried made a bee line for the door.

"I'll be right back," Thomas said to Philip, who nodded.

Thomas followed Siegfried out. He was only headed to the bathroom, it seemed. Thomas saw him head in, and waited outside in the dark hallway for him to emerge.

Thomas got his attention when he came out, leaning against the opposite wall. "Siegfried," he said quietly, not wanting his voice to travel too far.

"Enjoying the party, Thomas?" Siegfried asked.

"I came to warn you-"

"Warn me?" Siegfried asked. His voice was light and calm, as it usually was, but he looked at Thomas with a new intensity.

"Baroness Westpfale photographed you and the count," he said. "Don't let her blackmail you."

Siegfried sighed. "Maggie…" He shook his head. "I'm sure it's not blackmail. She might have a reason, but I'm sure it's not that."

"You trust too much."

"Thank you for the warning," he said. "I appreciate it."

Thomas nodded, and followed Siegfried back into the party. He immediately went over to the baroness, tapping her shoulder and pulling her away from the conversation she was engrossed in. Thomas stood just behind him.

"Maggie, your phone, if you would."

"Sieg!" she said, affronted. "What do you want my phone for?"

"I am sure you know."

She scowled. "You're a spoilsport. I was only going to show Annerose that her brother is capable of enjoying himself."

Siegfried held out his hand, and she dropped her phone into it. Thomas looked over his shoulder as Siegfried swiped through Magdalena's photos, then systematically deleted all of the pictures of himself dancing with Count Lohengramm. One of the photos he swiped past made Thomas freeze. There was a picture of himself, standing next to Philip, watching the couple dance. Philip was touching Thomas's hand.

"Can I have that photo?" Thomas asked, suddenly. "It's a good one."

"Of course, darling," Magdalena said. "Give me your number, and I'll send it to you."

Author's Note

well haha this is in fact the chapter that i built most of the fic around trying to get to, though i'm not sure if i did justice to what i originally envisioned. though of course one never does, and it's always that the product that exists supersedes whatever perfect thing exists in your imagination. i hope this is an interesting chapter for you anyway

i'm like fully obsessed with the concept of people pretending to be someone who they're not. and i also just thought that having thomas go to a party like this would be a fun concept haha

astute readers will recognize that this is the dancing scene described in THE CHILDREN OF THIS WORLD... :^) welcome to the noodle cinematic universe baybee

magdalena is absolutely just. addicted to pot stirring. i love her so much.

poor matthew the lone straight* guy at this party for gay people lmao. it's okay he's a chill man. but also this is going to make him feel even more :/ about the duke and mary situation lol

i want thomas and sybil to be friends. we were robbed in the show b/c they didn't actually get to hang out that much

i would love to hear any thoughts you have!

ummm socials: javert on tumblr, natsinator on twitter, my woefully out of date carrd is gayspaceopera. carrd. co , and you can join my discord here discord. gg/2fu49B28nu

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