Scene 3: 1804. Andrei's study. Paris, France.

"Why are you doing this?" Pierre leaned against a bookcase and watched his lover pack his books into chests and trunks.

"You know why," Andrei replied, not looking up at him. "I told you, I have to."

"You don't." The young man frowned. "Why won't you discuss this? We need to talk about it…"

"We do not need to talk." Andrei stood up abruptly, glaring at Pierre. "There's nothing to talk about. You knew I was engaged, we both knew this would happen. Don't deny it."

"But – can't you stay, just a while longer? Andrei, please -"

He slammed the lid down on the trunk. Pierre was frowning at him, looking like an animal in distress, helplessness radiating from his expression. Andrei scowled. He pushed down the lump in his throat that threatened to break out, break down, declare his love for Pierre, promise to stay by his side – ignored it as romantic nonsense. He spoke in a controlled voice. "I have a duty. This is my family, my career, my future and theirs that we're talking about."

"I know!"

Andrei realised he'd been underestimating Pierre, and sighed.

"Of course you have to leave, but please – Andrusha – can we please talk about this?"

The childish nickname made him wince internally. "I… don't want to. What is there to talk about?" He turned back to the books, their solidity and musty smell vaguely comforting. "I'm going back to Petersburg, I'm getting married, surely that's it? How complicated do you want to make this?"

He knew Pierre's expression without seeing him, by the tone of his voice as he replied. "What about me? Are you just going to leave me here?"

"I'll write to you." But it wasn't enough; he knew that. "I'm sorry, Pierre, there's nothing I can do." Andrei turned to look at him again, dark eyes serious. "I think you should go now."

"But you leave tomorrow." His eyes said incredulity and alarm, even if his voice was level.

"Yes. I need to pack."

"I can help."

"No. Pierre, really – I need you to go." Andrei forced himself to think rational thoughts. Though his heart was pounding and it was hard to force out the words, he kept speaking. "You won't be able to persuade me so you might as well leave." The words were too harsh, he knew, but hoped Pierre would believe them.

The young man looked sulky and hurt. The prince wouldn't meet his gaze; he crossed the room and opened the door for him.

Pierre sighed and came over to Andrei. Closing his eyes, he took Andrei's chin in his hand and kissed him forcefully. Andrei couldn't help but kiss back. He sighed, filled with regret.

Pierre let go of him and stepped back. "Remember me, then," he said reluctantly.

"We will see each other again," replied Andrei in a moment of sudden prophetic inspiration. Pierre looked doubtful. His body language shrieked 'ask me to stay', but Andrei couldn't say it – they were past that, it was too late now.

The young prince watched his lover walk down the stairs, each step more painful than the last, and hoped that he had done the right thing.