The airfield had been cold, but the inside of the car Treize had hired was deliciously warm and Zechs found himself settling into the soft leather seat, relaxing despite himself.
The surge of irritation he had experienced when he had seen Treize comforting Lady Une had only been compounded when the elder man refused to acknowledge him. The general had instead busied himself with collecting their bags from the storage bay of the plane – laughing at Zechs when he asked how his bag had gotten there. He'd pointed at Noin, admitting that he had called the pilot to his rooms whilst he had his bath to get him out of her way, and that it had been her to whom Treize had been speaking when Zechs arrived.
That hadn't improved Zechs's mood any either, and by the time Treize had arranged storage for their plane and shown them to the cars he had arranged to get them the rest of the way to their destination, Zechs was fuming.
Depending upon how one looked at such things, it was either very wise of Treize to ignore him completely, or rather insensitive. Regardless, that was what the general had done, handing Une the keys to the second car and sliding behind the wheel of this one himself.
That had been almost half an hour ago, and the ride along twisting, snow-edged roads had passed in silence as Zechs stared out of the window while Treize concentrated on whipping the little sports car through the night at a fair pace, but not so fast that he lost the other half of their party. In that time, the smoothness of the ride, its warmth and comfort, had done a lot to soothe ruffled feathers, and Zechs was finding that he couldn't hang onto his anger – couldn't really explain why it had seemed so important in the first place.
"Why two cars?" he asked, breaking the silence without warning.
Treize shot him a glance, not really able to look at him without taking his eyes off the road and putting them in danger. "Convenience, mostly. There are any number of things to do or places to see in this region. I thought it would be easier if we could split up to some degree." He smiled. "It also means that we aren't tied to Lady Une and Lucrezia for the entirety of our stay…"
"Ah. Scheming, as always, then."
"As always," Treize acknowledged. "Don't you like this particular bit of scheming?"
Zechs was forced to return the smile. "I like most of your scheming."
There was another quick glance in his direction.
"Do you?" The general asked. "That's good. I don't know quite how I'd manage without it."
"Hmm," Zechs agreed, closing his eyes and allowing his head to fall back against the seat. "It's a lovely car."
"Isn't it? I've always wanted to own one but there's no point. I'm not in one place for more than a few weeks at a time. The curse of a military career."
"That's true, but I can't imagine you doing anything else."
"No, neither can I. I doubt I'd have gotten very far. I would have made a terrible student, I think."
Zechs laughed, trying to picture his elegant, commanding general as a typical scruffy, harassed student and failing miserably. Even as a child, Treize had been fastidious and disciplined.
"What are you laughing at?" Treize asked, a hint of a smile playing around his own mouth.
"Trying to imagine you as an undergraduate and failing."
Treize allowed the smile to form fully. "Of course you are. I'm twenty-three, Zechs. I'd be well into my Doctorate by now. You're undergraduate age."
"I suppose I am," Zechs agreed, a little sadly.
Treize seemed to sense his shift in mood and gave him a moment of silence in which to regain his balance. "What would you have chosen to study?" he asked eventually.
The blond shrugged against his seat belt. "I don't know. I know my parents were intending for me to study politics and law at one of the European universities, but I would have talked them out of it, I think. Philosophy, maybe, or Mythology. What about you?"
The older man shot him another look, as if those weren't the answers he'd been expecting, and then shrugged, tapping the tapered fingers of one hand – for once without their gloves – against his knee. "I honestly haven't given it much thought – mathematics, physics, engineering, probably. Literature or history, if I wanted to get away from hard sciences. Music, as an outside possibility. In truth, though, I don't know if I would have continued my formal education that far – I can study all of those things in my own time."
Zechs closed his eyes again. "I don't know. I can see you ambling round the Sorbonne or Padua with ink-stained fingers and your hair everywhere, terrorising first years. You were a good Instructor. You'd make an interesting lecturer," he added, yawning.
"A possible career when I retire from the military, then?" Treize asked, turning the car off the main road.
"You'll never retire – you'll end up running the planet before then…"
"I don't know if I should take that as a compliment or an insult," the general mused, voice dry. When there was no reply, he glanced across the car to see that the younger man was apparently dozing in his seat. Treize shook his head – he'd been trying to break Zechs of his habit of falling asleep in cars for years.
****************
The roaring fire cracked and snapped as it licked over the wood it had been given to feed it, pouring light and heat into the low ceilinged room, and adding a quiet, homely sound to the background noise of movement, low music and the hum of conversation.
Almost three hours after their arrival at their destination, an exclusive resort in the mountains of Sweden, Zechs was sitting on an overstuffed couch in front of the fire, chatting to Une and Noin across a low table, waiting for Treize to return from the bar with their next round of drinks.
There'd been enough of them – between the Cognac Treize had ordered be ready for them in their rooms, the wine they had drunk with dinner and the various liquors previous trips to the bar had produced – that Zechs was feeling decidedly less than steady.
He wasn't the only one beginning to look a little worse for wear. Une, who had started the evening with her hair perfectly swept back and her face make-up pale, now had wisps of hair floating around her in a bizarre halo and her cheeks had taken on a rosy flush. In the dim, red-gold light of the fire, she struck quite a pretty picture, although not so pretty as the woman next to her. Noin was laughing at something she had overheard from the party seated in the next cluster of sofas and the indigo velvet of her dress brought out the tones of her hair and the rare shade of her eyes.
Her dress was only a shade or two less a flawless midnight blue than the sleeve which appeared over his shoulder without warning and pressed a short, chilled glass into his hands.
"Schnapps," Treize told him before he could ask what the tumbler contained. The general handed two more glasses to the women and folded onto the couch at the younger man's side, leaning into him very subtly. "It's very sweet and rather potent," he added before taking a sip from his own glass.
Zechs nodded and tried his own, finding that it was, as he had been warned, almost sickeningly sugary and rather harsh, but for all that, rather pleasant to drink.
"Do you like it?" Treize asked.
"I think so."
"Oh, good. We may finally have found something you can drink in some quantity."
Zechs rolled his eyes. The general was the only one of the four of them who had yet to show signs of suffering from the volume of alcohol they had consumed, doubtless because his daily diet consisted primarily of Cognac. Treize had taken it upon himself to systematically go through every form of potent alcohol the bar stocked until he found one that the pilot actually liked, all as part of his promise to get the younger man completely inebriated for his birthday. Zechs wondered if Treize knew how close his experimentation was coming to achieving his goal.
"Well, I like it, even if Zechs doesn't," Noin piped up, setting her half empty glass down on the table in front of her. "I'm going to have to remember it the next time I'm looking for something to drink other than wine."
Treize smiled at her, then transferred his attention to Une, who was staring into the glass as though it were going to bite her. "It can't hurt you, Lady."
"I'm sure it can – I'm not sure I should be drinking any more than I have."
"Nonsense. What harm can it do?"
"I think you might want to ask my head that in the morning, sir. I'm going to have such a hangover."
"And if you do? We have nothing planned for tomorrow. We can spend the entire day in bed if it comes to it."
Noin snorted into the glass she had just picked up again, shooting Zechs a mischievous look from under her hair. He returned her look evenly, smirking.
"I can't imagine such an indulgence would be as much fun as it should if we're all suffering the after-effects of tonight," he replied. Noin choked.
Treize smiled. "I am certain that it will lovely anyway. I so rarely get to stay abed past dawn."
Noin shook her head. "I like getting up early, I always have. It seems like half the day is gone if I don't."
"Then you can be our alarm clock in the morning, Lucrezia. I shall trust you to see that we all eat breakfast – even if everyone else is calling that meal 'lunch.'"
She coloured a little. "Actually, sir, about that…"
"Yes?"
"I noticed that there's a kitchen in the lodge – would you mind if I did some cooking whilst we're here? I could make breakfast tomorrow…"
Une looked at her in surprise. "You can cook?"
"My mother taught me when I was little – I've always enjoyed it but I don't get much chance."
Treize smiled at her gently. "You may do whatever you wish, Lucrezia. If it will please you to cook, I'm sure none of us will object. I know I can't cook to save my life."
"Oh, sir, I'm sure that's not true!"
"Oh, yes it is," Zechs snorted. "He can burn water. The last time he tried to make toast, he set the kitchen on fire."
"You're hardly a culinary expert yourself, Zechs," Treize replied, chuckling.
"No, but I can make toast. And sandwiches without slicing my hand open, and soup without having it explode all over the cooker and…"
"Alright!" Treize cried, silencing the younger man by putting a hand over his mouth. "I admit it, I can't cook. I don't need to be able to cook – I'm a Colonel, I have other people to cook for me."
Zechs shook his head, trying to loosen the grip, digging his fingers into his commander's wrists. Treize merely smiled at him and didn't let go. Une was staring, wide-eyed, and Noin was almost doubled over, giggling.
"Mmphh!"
"Stop struggling, Zechs, and I'll let you go," Treize murmured and looked at Noin. "As I was saying – if you wish to cook, please feel free. I'm certain you'll find the kitchen fully stocked."
"Thank you, sir. Do you have any preferences?"
"I've always liked Italian, Lucrezia," Treize answered, with a lazy smile. "Stop struggling, Zechs."
Noin bit off another bout of giggles, catching Une's expression out of the corner of her eye. She wasn't the only one, then, to notice that there was a tone to the general's voice that suggested he'd said those words to the younger man in other contexts.
"Well, it's easy to see the two of you grew up together, sir," she began, hoping to deflect any suspicion.
"Oh?"
"Yes, sir. One of my cousin's has two sons – they'd be ten and seven now – and they're forever carrying on with each other like that."
"Ah. Must drive their mother quite to distraction, then. I know we did with mine." He turned his head to look at the younger man and smiled. "Zechs…"
A moment later, he gave a yelp and snatched his hand back. Zechs sat up, smirking. "Thank you for the reminder, Noin. I'd forgotten how to get him to let go till you said that."
"What did you do?"
"He bit me!"
"It's no more than you wanted, pinning me down like that."
"Oh?"
Noin was fighting to get a deep breath between her bouts of laughter. Though she'd made it up on the spot as an excuse – she didn't have any cousins – she strongly suspected that there was a grain of truth to the story that would make it all the more believable. Treize was displaying the same careless youthful quality that had lit him on Christmas morning, and Zechs, glaring at him from underneath mussed hair, seemed perfectly cast in the role of rebellious younger brother. For the first time since learning that Zechs had been raised by the Khushrenadas, Noin began to see that his childhood had contained something other than brooding angst and revenge-driven discipline.
Now, if only Une didn't notice the deeper meaning to their words, or the look in Treize's dark eyes…
A quick flick of those eyes in the Lady's direction told Noin that her commander wasn't unaware of the problem and he got to his feet, collecting empty glasses.
"I'll be back in a moment," he murmured and made his way to the bar again.
Une watched him go and then stood up abruptly. "Excuse me," she snapped and walked away too, heading in the direction the restrooms.
Zechs and Noin were left staring at one another.
**********************
Une made her way to the ladies bathroom at a brisk walk, refusing to give in to her desire to run as fast as she could and so make a spectacle of herself.
Once through the door, she glanced around quickly and discovered to her relief that she was alone. Allowing her body to sag back against the door, she stared at her reflection in the mirror on the opposite wall. It did nothing to improve her mood.
Her hair was a mess, her makeup had started to blur, the alcohol had brought a hectic flush to her cheeks and nose, and her eyes were wide and dilated. She looked like a shock victim, as though she were about to collapse, and that irritated her. She wasn't that fragile; never mind that it wasn't so far from the truth.
Straightening her shoulders, she made her way to the row of sinks, took her brush from the small clutch bag she'd brought with her, and began to yank it through her hair, ignoring the tremor in her hands as she restored order to the heavy mass until it fell in perfectly organised waves around her face. Her next task was to repair her makeup, but as she lifted the little compact kit out of her bag, the trembling of her hands made her grip falter and it slid to the floor with a clatter.
Une stared at it.
It, like everything else around her, refused to do as she wished. For a moment, she closed her eyes and gave one quiet sob. Then she bent down, swept the kit into her hands and set it on the counter.
It didn't matter that she was trembling, that she could still feel the warmth of his hand against hers, see the look in his eyes. It didn't matter that she wanted to throw something, or curl in on herself and cry. That wasn't who she was – and now, more than ever, she needed to be true to herself.
They had lied to her. He had lied to her. With his words, with his actions, he had tried to deceive her, but he had underestimated her, because he had never really taken the time to get to know her. It was the first tactical mistake she had ever known him make.
Une had been putting together the truth for months now, piecing together snippets of conversation, exchanged looks, the tone of a voice, the brush of a hand. There was more to Major Marquise than anyone else knew – she had been certain of that from the moment she had met him. Now, she knew why.
It had been a clever story they had concocted – too clever for the one who must sustain it. They had made him into a nobody, but they hadn't taught him how to move like a nobody. They had woven layer upon layer of lies around him, intricate as Brussels lace, but someone had forgotten to take the scissors from his hands. Zechs Marquise was no illegitimate Khushrenada cousin and he showed it with everything he did. He was too clever, too talented, too beautiful, and too proud. The man smashed his own protection every time he breathed.
She had always known that his story didn't hold up but until Christmas she hadn't had any idea as to why. Noin had given her the first clue – in telling her that Zechs was a Count of the shattered Sanc Kingdom, she had set Une looking in a direction she had never thought to go. Timothy Catalonia had been most informative. In the hour or two she had spent with him at the Ball, he had all but completed her picture for her. It was no surprise that Catalonia's career was going nowhere – she had gotten what she wanted from him with no more than a smile or two and a few veiled questions.
A few hours of research at the base had given her the rest.
She had intended to confront the Major personally, but then Noin had begun looking herself and she had come to the conclusion that it would suit her purposes better to let the younger woman break the ice for her. The argument between the two pilots had told her everything she needed to know. There were few reasons why Marquise would have hit a woman, especially that woman. No doubt, Noin had gone in there all guns blazing.
The results hadn't been as she expected though. Instead of driving a wedge of resentment between the two of them, it had seemed to draw them closer, and the interception of an email sent from the Major to Mr. Treize had stopped the rest of her plans in their tracks and made her think. To out the lost Prince as who he was would cast suspicion on anyone who had any close ties to him. There would be no way that her commander could avoid his own name being implicated – Treize's family, and in the past few years, Treize himself, had spent no small amount of time and money making sure nobody ever looked too closely at the starling in their nest.
Though she had been disappointed that she would have to keep her silence, it wasn't so great of a blow – information such as this never outlived its value and in truth, it had proven almost reassuring. She had, at last, a reasonable explanation for the closeness of the relationship between her commanding officer and his top pilot. And surely, given that they had been raised almost as brothers, the chemistry she had seen between them – the spark they had seemed dangerously close to acting upon – would never lead to anything else, simply because they would never think of each other in such a way.
She had relaxed, forgotten her jealousy, and been sure that Treize was drawing closer to her than ever before, sure that the bond between Zechs and Noin was developing too.
Until tonight.
For a few brief minutes on the plane, she had been happier than she had ever been in her life. He had taken her hand, told her he would look after her, and she hadn't missed the way he was staring at her fingers.
No more than she had missed the way he had split their party up to keep Zechs at his side. No more than she had missed the way the two men were speaking to each other in the lounge and the way they were acting. When she'd thought they were blind to the heat between them, she had been wrong. Very wrong. Whatever was going on was mature enough that they were playing around with the dominating side Une had always suspected she would find underneath the guise of elegant nobleman Treize wore. Worse still, they had been doing so long enough that the so-unsubtle, so-unimaginative Major was comfortable with it.
She had frozen from the shock for an instant, and then her tactician's brain had fired up and she had looked to the younger woman seated beside her, ready to fall back on her original plan – only to have Noin concoct that story designed to cover for them.
That had been the final straw. Not one of her plans had included a scenario where the other woman knew and supported what was happening – how could she, when she was as in love with Zechs as Une was with Treize? In one brief instant, Noin had gone from being her strongest ally, to the most dangerous opponent she'd face.
For all that she had been sat in a crowded room, she had been alone.
The sound of the door opening made her turn her head, but to her relief it wasn't the Captain. Une looked at her reflection again and found herself wishing for her uniform.
After all, what else should one wear to declare war?
Slowly, she picked up her kit and began to fix her makeup – if she couldn't have her uniform, she could at least have a mask of perfection on her face. When she was done, she put the compact away and went back into the main room, smiling as she sat down.
They had no way to know it but Noin's defection had left her with only one course of action open to her. In order to untangle Zechs from Treize, she would have to destroy him.