Act I
Scene V

Berwald's spectacles were rose-tinted ever since that glowing, fateful morning. Tino was forever on his mind and in his heart, and having him serving during a ball in his own house certainly didn't help matters.

"You couldn't be less discreet if you tried," Lukas remarked coldly, watching his best friend watch Tino. The Finn weaved deftly around the room as if not bound by gravity, and Berwald's ocean-coloured eyes followed him with every step.

"Someone's fascinated!" Mathias laughed, knocking back the last of his wine in one gulp. The three men socialised together at these events whenever they could, but as yet, Lukas was the only outsider who knew of Berwald and Tino's illicit relationship.

All Berwald could think of at that moment was how Tino had looked under the livery he now wore, the precise pattern of pale freckles that had danced across his shoulder blades, how his voice had sounded so much sweeter in intense pleasure, and how he had called him 'Berwald' for the first time instead of 'sir', his tone a whisper of pure bliss.

Lukas could practically see the memories mapping out on Berwald's face, and he pinched the man's arm subtly but fiercely.

"Don't give yourself away," he hissed.

"I hear there's plans for a wedding?" Mathias asked innocently. Both Lukas and Berwald spun to face him, wearing identical expressions of shock, and Mathias burst into laughter. "You two act like an arranged couple, bickering and whispering like that!"

"Danish imbecile," Lukas said with a roll of his eyes, stepping over to stand at Mathias' side.

He was significantly subtler than Berwald.

"No, honestly, both of you should be marrying soon, isn't that right?" Mathias was fully serious at this point. Men of their standing would usually be in arranged matches by now, or courting, or at least be showing some form of interest in a lady of similar rank.

Mathias' marriage had been arranged; he had been fortunate enough that Belle was a good friend of his, and that he had enough family loyalty to share a bed with her, if only to produce children to further their line.

"I'm a lonely writer," Lukas declared dryly. "My fate is to sit in my chamber and pen endless pages of stories to be enjoyed by countless people for many years to come."

"I can't marry," Berwald said quickly, quietly, piquing Mathias' interest.

"Oh? And why not?"

"He has fallen in love with and lain with his valet," explained Lukas, his tone bored. "He can't take his eyes off the boy and swears to never be unfaithful." (Well, there was a little embellishment, but Lukas was a writer.)

"What?" Mathias' eyebrows jumped up on his forehead, his big blue eyes widening. "Truly?"

All Berwald could do was duck his head and say nothing, for he couldn't deny the plain truth.

"Sve…" The old childish nickname surfaced as worry knitted Mathias' brow. "Are you sure that's a good idea? I wouldn't think it was. It's not the easiest of relationships to get into, you know?"

The sound of disbelief came not from Berwald's mouth, but from Lukas'. "Excuse me?"

"It's true!" Mathias held up his hands, his whole broad frame a little slumped. "Not because you don't love each other – you adore each other, you would do anything for each other!" It was obvious now that he wasn't talking about a hypothetical relationship. "And you want to shout from the rooftop about your love when you know that you are married to another!"

At that point Lukas gave the Dane such a glare that if Lukas' dark blue eyes were fire, Mathias would be alight.

"Speaking of marriage." Every word was clipped and cold. "Perhaps I will marry."

"What?" Now it was Berwald's turn to look utterly shocked. "Who?"

"Ivan Braginsky's sister, or half-sister, whoever she is. Natalya Arlovskaya." Lukas took a sip of wine, his Adam's apple pushing against the skin of his throat. "She's fair of face."

"Though not of body," Mathias chuckled quietly, looking quite deflated. "She's far too thin. She'll never give you children, Lukas."

"Unlike the elder sister –"

"Excuse me, sirs." In Berwald's eyes, the fairest face in the room had just appeared: Tino, in all his glory with blue velvet livery and the light shining on his thick, soft hair. His smile was practiced, the routine expression that all servants had to wear while attending. "I have a message for Lord Oxenstierna…" he trailed off as his eyes drifted from the small envelope in his hands, up to the face of his lover.

"Who's it from?" Mathias asked, nosily as ever, leaning over to read the writing as Berwald took the envelope and gently slit it open. "Oh, Berwald's father! I haven't heard from him in far too long!"

"He's been too busy running his estate to lollygag with the likes of you," Lukas said shortly, though the way he leant ever so slightly closer to Mathias betrayed some deeper feeling not expressed in his casually harsh remarks.

The two were so engrossed in their own exchange that they did not notice Berwald's eyes widen as they scanned down the page – but Tino noticed.

"What is it, sir?" he asked, a note of worry in his voice.

"Ivan Braginsky's elder sister, her name's Yekaterina, yes?" Berwald swallowed thickly.

"I, ah, I wouldn't know…"

"Lukas." Berwald repeated his question to Lukas, who tilted his head, silky fringe falling close to his eyes.

"Yekaterina Braginskaya? Yes, the same one."

Berwald nodded, almost to himself, grip tightening on the edges of the letter, trying not to crumple them.

"What?" Lukas asked, tone a little urgent.

"We spoke too soon." Berwald's voice was low, his eyes on the ground, his shoulders slumped. "I'm arranged to be married to Yekaterina Braginskaya."

The room seemed to fall silent, at least for the four young men, and the silence stretched, on and on.

End of Act I