Chapter Seven
St Darwin Boulevard, Pendragon, Holy Empire of Britannia, April 2006 ATB
The carpool, as it was generally known, was a set of large buildings near to the entrance of St Darwin Boulevard. There the wide array of limousines, carriages, and other personal vehicles owned and used by the residents were stored and maintained.
Including the Empress' own knightmare frame.
Alexander had seen her Ganymede many times, but the awe he felt at the sight of it had yet to fade. It stood inside the small hangar, back to the wall, surrounded by maintenance scaffolding on which stood or squatted mechanics in grey jumpsuits; putting the finishing touches to the latest workup. Empress Marianne was very particular about her knightmare, and they knew what was expected.
"Looking forward to an hour in the training field, Alexander?"
Alexander started at the question, then remembered himself and looked up at the Empress. She was a fine figure in a pale blue g-force suit, of which his own suit was a miniature copy. That familiar smile was on her face, a smile that could wipe away all his worries.
"Yes, your Majesty."
But for all that, he could not suppress a twinge of unease, a sense of wrongness. Something in that smile, in her eyes, told him that she could tell.
"I…I am grateful that you would take the time, your Majesty. With all the preparations, I mean."
Preparations. Two weeks of preparations, of organised chaos, as the soiree to be held that very evening was planned, organised, and provided for. Aries Villa, and the gardens around it, had been transformed into a venue fit for royalty; which was no accident, for quite a few of the guests were indeed royalty, including some of Marianne's fellow consorts and their children.
Food of drink of every kind imaginable had been ordered, prepared, delivered, and arranged. Tables, chairs, gazebos, lights, underfloor heaters, sound systems, and fireworks. Extra maids, waiters and waitresses, chefs and sous-chefs, musicians and performers.
As Marianne's page, there had been no escape from the work of preparing; and Alexander had wanted no escape. Desperate to prove his worth to his mistress and benefactress, he had put himself wholeheartedly at her disposal; and she had been more than happy to partake. Some days he had been run off his feet, carrying messages from one party to another, getting sucked into the middle of countless arguments and personality clashes over everything from the arrangement of flowers to the positioning of the orchestra to the colour of the ornamental lights.
But the one really at the centre of it all was Lelouch. Alexander had discovered a whole new side of the young master; his aspect as obsessive perfectionist. He had been involved in everything, and had expected Alexander to make his often byzantine plans clear and comprehensible to all involved.
It had been an utter nightmare, trying to explain such things to various servants and workers, few of whom had any wish to take orders from an eight-year-old page. More than once had he been forced to have Marianne or Lelouch intervene; much to the latter's apparent satisfaction. But once Marianne made clear that any instructions from Alexander or Lelouch were to be considered her sovereign will, the trouble largely stopped.
Alexander could not help but wonder if some of the clashes and difficulties had not been deliberately engineered by Lelouch just to make his life difficult. Ever since he had read to Nunnally that one time, the young Prince's inexplicable malice towards him seemed to have gotten progressively worse.
"Now don't you go worrying about that." Marianne reached down to ruffle his hair. "I need this break at least as much as you do. And you've been so helpful with all the preparations; especially keeping Lelouch entertained."
"Entertained, your majesty?" Alexander was now thoroughly confused.
"Of course! I had to keep him distracted somehow, or else he would have planned the whole event into utter madness." She giggled. "I'm just so sorry he insists on tormenting you like that."
Alexander sighed, not knowing what to say. He wasn't sure he really wanted to be friends with someone like Lelouch. But an end to the constant hostility would at least be an improvement.
"Don't worry though." She ruffled his hair again. "He's just being a drama queen, thinking I would suddenly forget that he's my little boy just because I have you to fuss over." She smiled. "He'll get used to you, eventually."
Alexander felt his cheeks redden, but he smiled all the same. Marianne was clearly fond of him, or doing a very good job of faking it. As a young noble who had once been a street child, he could never be quite sure. There had been times when he had almost allowed himself to forget, to finally believe that he truly was Alexander Waldstein, and that the past would never come back to haunt him. But never for very long.
"And now that they've finished fussing over my Ganymede, we can get started," Marianne said, straightening up. "Or not. I'll just be a moment."
The last she said as an electronic tinkling suddenly sounded. Marianne strode out of the hangar, pulling her phone from its pouch on her belt. Alexander stood for a few moments, gazing up at the freshly maintained and cleaned Ganymede, wondering how…
"What do you mean you've lost it!?"
It had not been particularly loud, but Alexander's ears – honed by years on the streets – picked it up all the same. For a moment he froze, startled, then crept towards the doorway, his curiosity getting the better of him.
"Which one? The prototype? Why was it there in the first place?"
He glanced around the corner. There was Marianne, the phone pressed to her ear, a look on her face he had never seen there before.
He didn't like it. He didn't like it at all. What could be wrong?
"What were you thinking Reuben!?" Even her voice had changed, no longer warm and gentle, but angry…even afraid. "Sending it out there! No, no don't say any more. Does the OSI know? Have they said anything? All right, don't tell anyone, don't say anything, and for heaven's sake don't sign anything! We'll talk later tonight!"
She lowered the phone, ending the call with a touch of her finger.
"It's rude to eavesdrop, Alexander," she said, without turning your head. "And in this place, it can you killed."
Alexander's heart leapt into his mouth, his blood running cold. He thought of ducking back inside the hangar and pretending nothing had happened. But he knew it was pointless.
He stepped out, head lowered in contrition.
"I…I'm sorry, your Majesty."
"I'll let it go this once, Alexander," Marianne replied, turning to face him. "But you must be more careful in future. Around here, people overhear things, and they notice when someone is listening. Hearing the wrong thing can cost you your life."
"I would never betray you, your Majesty!" pleaded Alexander, terrified of those cold, hard eyes. Marianne knelt down and squeezed his shoulder, her mien softening once again.
"It's not that I don't trust you, Alexander," she said gently. "But there are people out there who would very much like to know what you have just heard. They are willing to do very…unpleasant things."
Alexander shivered. He had felt so safe with her, so comfortable. How could there have been such danger? How could he so easily get himself in into trouble?
"You must learn to be more careful." She gently cupped his cheek with her free hand. "I could never forgive myself if you got hurt because of my dealings. You must not eavesdrop on people, and you must never mention a word of this to anyone? Do you understand?"
"Yes, your majesty. But I…I don't even understand what I heard."
"Maybe not. But children can hear, and repeat back. They make excellent little spies that way. Be especially careful of Euphie's little friends. They might seem silly, but they're much more clever than they look and their mothers have them well trained."
"I will be careful, your Majesty."
"Good, I know I can count on you." She ruffled his hair again, and he began to relax. "All you need to know is that an old friend of mind has done something rather rash, and I need to see him tonight in order to sort it out."
"But…might not someone overhear, your Majesty?"
"They might, so I have arranged certain safe places where we can talk. If you see me leaving the party with one of the guests, you must not follow me, nor allow Lelouch or Nunnally to follow me. Do you understand?
"Yes, your Majesty."
"Good." Her smile returned. "Shall we get started?"
"Princess!? Oh where have you gone?
Alexander was starting to get worried. When Marianne had sent him to help Lelouch and Euphemia find Nunnally, he had expected that they would find her in no time. But he had been searching for at least fifteen minutes, and the party was less than two hours away.
"Princess?"
He looked around a very large rhododendron bush, and found himself between two rows of flowerbeds backed by long, tall hedges; a wide promenade of finely-cut grass running between them, allowing for pleasant walks.
He didn't recogize the flowers. In the two months since his arrival at Aries Villa, he had spent a great deal of time in the gardens; attending on Lelouch and Nunnally, and sometimes Euphemia too. He had come to know the flowerbeds, the bushes, the orchids, the garden mazes. But he had not seen these flowers. This was not part of Aries Villa's gardens.
Alexander felt a pang of fear. He was no longer in Empress Marianne's gardens, in Empress Marianne's territory. If Lelouch or Euphemia had not found her, she had wandered into someone else's garden; someone else's territory.
Or else she had been kidnapped.
He shook his head. No, that was impossible. Security along St Darwin Boulevard was tighter than it appeared; with hidden sensors and cameras almost everywhere, and armed guards in concealed bunkers ready to leap into action at a moment's notice. Besides, security was extra-tight on account of the party. There was no way somebody could make off with Nunnally without someone noticing.
And if they had done, the place would be swarming with guards and camera drones.
The sound of voices drew his attention. He hurried along the promenade, following the voices, the sound growing louder and clearer as he came to an opening in the hedge and flowerbed; doubtless leading into one of the smaller quadrangles. He reached the opening, and peered around the hedge; half-expecting to see Nunnally pottering around, babbling artlessly to herself.
But it was not Nunnally.
It was indeed a quadrangle, with a circular flower bed in the centre, and more flower beds lining the hedges that marked out the boundary. There was only one other exit, directly opposite.
In a corner to his left were two young girls, one with red hair, one blonde, of about Lelouch's age or maybe a little older. The redhead cowered, whimpering with fright, while the blonde held her, glaring at a group of four other children near the central planting. Of those, three were boys of about his own age, dressed in much the same manner, and with swords at their hips.
They were menacing a fourth boy, also wearing a sword, though his appearance was somewhat more...flamboyant than Alexander was used to. He had very long blonde hair, done up in a high pony tail with a bright green ribbon tied in a large bow. His green jacket had a slightly odd cut to it, and the white sash was wider and longer than usual, though his white breeches and stockings were fairly nondescript.
The boy's delicate face wore a look of cold defiance, as the three other boys stood rakishly around him, smirking contemptuously.
Alexander felt his stomach turn cold. He had seen those three around, and knew them to be pages like himself; though he did not know for certain whom they served. There was something...not quite right about them, something dangerous.
"It thinks its very tough," sneered one of them.
"I think it wants to fight," added another, eliciting a snicker from the first.
"I think it looks like a girl!" cut in the third, the others snickering at his words. "Why don't you go and play dolls with them?" He waved a dismissive hand at the two girls cowering nearby.
"You bullies!" snapped the blonde. "You can't carry on like this in front of the Princess! I'll have you horse-whipped!"
A princess? Alexander was taken aback, stunned. To behave this way with a princess and a lady looking on? He couldn't make sense of it. What made them think they could do such a thing?
"Horse whipped?" One of the pages turned slowly to regard the blonde girl, his arrogant smirk still in place. "Maybe you'd like a whipping with my sword, little girl!"
"I'm Oldrin Zevon!" shrieked the blonde, red-faced with anger. "And this is Princess Marybelle! Queen Flora will hear of this!"
The boys just laughed, and turned their attention back to the blond boy with the sword, who had managed to hold his ground.
Alexander's heart ached for him. He looked so delicate, so young; yet there he was, so brave in the face of three obvious troublemakers. Dare he get involved?
No! He had no time! He was supposed to be looking for Nunnally!
But...he looked so alone, so vulnerable.
"Gentlemen!"
All eyes turned as Alexander strode into the quadrangle. The smirks faded from the pages' faces, replaced with looks of suspicion.
And contempt.
"Who the hell are you?" demanded the first one. He was the tallest, and had black hair.
"It's Waldstein's brat," replied the third, the one with brown hair. "I've seen him with Marianne's brats."
"Yes, that's right!" sneered the second, this one a redhead, with a round face and freckles. "He's the commoner's page!" The other two snickered.
Alexander felt his hackles rise, but he controlled himself. His father had taught him not to show emotion in such a situation. It would be a sign of weakness.
"I am Empress Marianne's page," he replied coldly. "Whom do you serve? And what makes you think you can carry on like this in front of the Princess?"
For a moment, the three of them stared at him. Then they burst out laughing. Alexander was stunned, not knowing what to say or how to react. But their laughter raked over his nerves, forcing him to grit his teeth behind his clenched lips.
"My lord, please go," pleaded the blond boy. His voice was high and soft, like a girl's. His eyes were full of pain. "This isn't your problem."
Alexander did not reply. He glanced at Marybelle and Oldrin. The princess, for so she apparently was, looked at him pityingly, as if she foresaw some terrible fate. The other, apparently named Oldrin, glared at the pages. She looked ready to take a stand herself, though she had no sword, and Alexander suspected that she would find it difficult to fight in that frilly, ankle-length dress.
"Have you heard this one, Hugh?" spluttered the redhead page.
"He thinks he's a knight!" laughed the black-haired page, who apparently was called Hugh. "He's a brat, who serves a commoner who thinks she's the Empress!"
"Why don't you run away and pick flowers with these little girls!" sneered the brown-haired page, eliciting yet more laughter from his cronies. "It's all you're good for!"
"My lord, please!" whimpered the blond boy.
"I say again, gentlemen, whom do you serve?" Alexander had had quite enough of the three. "If this is not your mistress' land, then kindly begone! There are ladies present!"
The redhead kept on sniggering. He seemed to find the whole thing a great joke. But the smirks vanished from the faces of the other two. They looked thunderstruck, ready even to kill.
"I think this brat needs discipline!" snarled the brown-haired page. He drew his sword, eliciting a cry of fear from Marybelle.
"Let's tan his hide, George!" hissed the black-haired page, drawing his own weapon. "We'll make him cry like these little girls!"
Alexander allowed his lip to curl. He gripped his sword and drew it in one smooth motion, the sound of scraping steel sending a shiver down his spine. He felt powerful now, as powerful as when he had first touched his point on his father's chest.
"I'm sorry, my lord." The blonde drew his own sword.
"Don't worry about it," Alexander whispered, just as the two pages attacked.
Alexander heard a cry from one of the girls as the George lunged, his blade slicing for his heart. He knocked the blade aside and stepped away, letting the page stagger past him. He was about to turn and face him, but in the corner of his eye he saw the redhead about to attack. He parried the thrust, and another, and another, falling back as the red-haired page came on.
He glanced at the blonde. The boy was holding his own against Hugh, his delicate face set hard. His assailant was a vision of animal fury; his teeth clenched, his eyes blazing, his movements angry and sloppy.
Then he saw the brown-haired page returning, sword at the ready. Alexander knew he had to keep George from ganging up on his blonde comrade, but how?
He darted back away from the redhead, and turned to face George. The page took the bait, darting in to attack. He parried again and again, all the while conscious of the redhead moving up behind him.
He heard a yell of pain, and looked up to see Hugh kick the blonde's left leg out from underneath him, knocking him to the ground. Hugh lifted his right foot, ready to stamp down hard on his helpless opponent.
Alexander darted forward, ramming his shoulder straight into Hugh's own, sending him tumbling into the central flowerbed. He looked down at the blonde, who shot him a grateful smile before rolling to his feet.
But George came at him, snarling with rage. It was all Alexander could do to turn in time, George's point slashing the arm of his jacket; tearing the expensive silk. Panicking, Alexander swiped, the blade slashing across George's chest, tearing his jacket and shirt. George yelled and staggered back, giving Alexander just enough space to ready himself.
George attacked, lunging at him with a shriek of inhuman rage. Alexander fell back before the onslaught, barely managing to parry his blows. Behind him, the redhead was fighting a duel of his own with the blonde, that same smirk still in place. He seemed to be enjoying himself.
But George's fury made him sloppy, and Alexander saw his chance. He parried once again, and jinked to the left, letting George stagger past him; then turned and kicked the page right on the rump. George yelled as he collapsed straight into an elaborate arrangement of white roses.
Alexander could not keep a smile off his face. This was the most exciting thing he'd ever done. All his cares and worries and fears were gone. He was fighting his first battle, and he was winning.
Something hard struck him over the head. He heard both the girls cry out as his vision blurred, and his legs gave way beneath him. He fell to the ground, barely managing to hold onto his sword, and saw Hugh standing over him, his jacket and breeches torn and stained, flower petals hanging off them. His face was a vision of utter, soul-freezing hatred.
"Not so brave now, are you?" he growled. He drew back his foot and kicked Alexander in the side. Alexander cried out as his entire torso seized up in pain. He tried to move, to roll to his feet, but Hugh kicked him again, and again.
"This is what you get!" roared Hugh. Alexander gripped his sword, readying himself to slash at Hugh, to throw everything he had on one desperate attack.
Then he saw Oldrin come darting up. So angry was he, that he only then noticed her. Too late, as Oldrin, a hard look on her face, hitched up her skirt and drew back her foot to kick him.
But she didn't kick him. Instead, too fast for Hugh to react, she drove the sole of her foot into his lower leg, with sound like a hammer hitting raw meat. Hugh screamed and staggered, swiping at Oldrin with his sword, but the girl darted lightly out of his reach.
Alexander saw his chance, and balled his free hand into a fist. He drove it into Hugh's face with all his strength, sending him staggering and limping backward. Alexander rolled to his feet, and turned to face George, who had finally extracted himself from the roses. He was in as bad a state as Hugh, but that his face was covered in cuts and scratches. He looked ready to kill.
"What is the meaning of this!?"
The words cut through the air like an executioner's blade. Alexander froze almost on instinct, and snapped his head around, half expecting to see Marianne standing there.
Except it wasn't.
It was Victoria li Britannia. Even then she was a sight to behold, an older and more conventionally feminine version of Cornelia, clad in a wide purple gown and with a long fan in her white-gloved hand. Beside her stood Cornelia, looking on the scene with amazement; and holding her hand was Nunnally.
George and Hugh ran, their faces ashen, vanishing through the opposite exit as if the hounds of hell were on their heels. The redhead ran after them, only taking the time to bow mockingly at them all before he disappeared around the corner.
Alexander could only stand where he was, frozen like a deer in headlights. Even where he was, he could see the chaos around him. The central flowerbed was ruined, the plants – that looked worryingly like rare orchids – lay torn and scattered where Hugh had thrashed to free himself. All around several of the other flowerbeds had been similarly mauled. So much damage, yet he could hardly remember any of it; it had all happened so fast.
He sheathed his sword. There was really nothing else he could do.
"I see I have you to thank for this...riot." Her tone was icy cold, yet perfectly controlled. "I wonder what explanation you can offer me for this...vandalism."
"Mother!" Cornelia spoke up. "Alexander...!"
"Not a word, Cornelia!" snapped Victoria, silencing her daughter instantly. She fixed Alexander with cold blue eyes; eyes as cold and patient as ice. Alexander's heart sank, for although his mind raced, he could offer no explanation, no excuse. He had gotten into a fight in her garden, a fight that had left it in chaos. He had nothing to offer, nothing to say.
He opened his mouth to apologise, to beg her indulgence, to submit to whatever punishment she saw fit.
"Your Majesty, may I speak?"
The voice was behind him, high and clear. Alexander could not bring himself to turn, to see who it was.
Instead, Marybelle and Oldrin strode into his line of sight; Oldrin stopping beside him, Marybelle halting a few steps forward. She genuflected to Victoria, with remarkable grace for one who had been scared out of her mind a few moments earlier. Victoria switched her gaze to Marybelle, her cold mask still firmly in place, her eyes unwavering.
"You have some explanation, Marybelle?" Her tone seemed mild, even reasonable. But Alexander could sense an edge to it, an edge of question, of danger.
"Your Majesty, this page was acting in our defence," Marybelle said, her words carefully enunciated, sounding more like a adult princess than a young girl. "We were meeting with our friend here," she gestured at the blond boy, who looked as frightened as Alexander felt, "when those three brutes began to harass us. He stepped in and asked them to leave, but they drew their swords."
Victoria kept her gaze on Marybelle, her eyes boring into the girl, as if she were trying to burn away her flesh and read her deepest thoughts. Then at last she shifted her eyes, onto Alexander.
"Is this true, young man? Think carefully before you answer."
Alexander gulped. He wanted to answer, to say that it was all true, to convince her that it wasn't his fault. But would she believe it? Could those cold, suspicious, contemptuous eyes accept his answer? Or would she think him self-serving? Would she think he meant only to justify himself, to say whatever would please her and buy her pardon?
He had no choice.
"Her highness speaks the truth, your majesty." It was all he could do to force the words out. The silence dragged on, for what seemed like an eternity.
"I hope you realise, Marybelle, that a princess may not take back her word," Victoria said. "If I find you have been lying, there will be consequences."
"I know, your majesty. I have told only the truth."
Victoria regarded her a moment longer.
"Then I will let this slide, this once."
Alexander lowered his head, forcing himself not to sigh with relief.
"But know this, young man." Victoria's hard tone made his head snap up. "Even if your intentions were sincere, an honourable deed is not always a wise deed, or a righteous deed. Think carefully before you draw your sword, Alexander Waldstein. One day, honour will cost you dear."
There was something in her eyes, some deep and dark and, that Alexander could not help but notice. This was no mere axiom, no stern repeating of meaningless dictata. This was something personal, something painful.
"Now, the three of you had better come with me. You," she stared down at the blonde, "are in need of a change of clothes."
The blonde blushed. Marybelle and Oldrin shared a glance, and a giggle; as if sharing a joke they alone knew.
"You should be on your way, young page. Cornelia will show you the way. Also..." She nodded at Nunnally. "Try to keep her on a leash in future."
She turned and headed out of the quadrangle. Marybelle shot him a smile, genuflected quickly, then hurried off with Oldrin and the blonde boy, following Victoria like little ducklings.
It occurred to Alexander that he had not asked the boy's name.
The night was clear, the stars clearly visible; though dulled by the glow of the lights.
Alexander was just starting to relax. The party had gone very well so far. He had attended on Marianne as she greeted her guests, at times having to direct them to certain places, or running off on some small errand. Now that the bulk of them had arrived, and the party was well and truly underway, there was a few moments of peace.
"We seem to be off to a good start," commented Marianne, regarding the gathering with evident pleasure. Finely-dressed ladies and gentlemen strolled and mingled, talking among themselves or sampling the delectable foodstuffs on the buffet tables. Concealed heaters kept the cool April evening just on the right side of warm, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky.
"Yes, your Majesty."
"Now that we have a moment," Marianne turned to face him, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "Perhaps you'll tell me about the little incident that occurred earlier."
Alexander felt his stomach clench. He had hoped Marianne would forget about that. He had mentioned it of course, while trying to explain why it had taken him so long to bring Nunnally back. But with everyone so busy getting ready, there had been no time to explain properly.
"I...I got into an altercation with three pages, your majesty."
"Oh really?" Marianne brightened suddenly. "Who won?"
"I...I'm not sure, your Majesty." Alexander was taken aback. Should she not be angry with him? "The fight was interrupted. Queen Victoria intervened, and they ran off. She was...most upset."
"I'm not surprised." Marianne let out a girlish giggle that set Alexander's teeth on edge. "Victoria really doesn't care for swords, knights, or fighting of any kind. That said, she has better reason than most. But I would be curious to hear your reasons for getting into this little scrap."
Alexander told her about Marybelle, Oldrin, and the blonde boy. Marianne let out another giggle.
"Oh Alexander, you are a delight! In any case, Victoria told me everything while you were busy with Tiberia and her nieces, and Flora was positively gushing too."
"I don't understand, your Majesty." And he didn't. Victoria had been so angry.
"Alexander, dear, if it were Nunnally being harrassed by those three brutes, I'd be glad of a brave young page willing to leap to her assistance. Victoria might not appreciate having her garden vandalized, but she knows you were sincere. Don't vex yourself so."
Alexander wanted to believe that everything was all right, that he had not embarrassed Marianne and caused her terrible trouble. But he could not quite bring himself to relax.
"In the meantime, would you mind checking on Lelouch? The poor thing's having to keep all the other children entertained by himself. I'm sure he'd appreciate the help."
"Of course, your Majesty."
Alexander bowed, and headed off, hands behind his back. He made his way throught the guests, all the while careful not to bump into anyone or tread on any hems, until he left the main quadrangle and entered a long corridor, flanked by tall bushes on both sides.
It did not take him long to find Lelouch and the other children. Having spent the first hour or so being shown off by their parents or benefactors, they had retreated to one of the nearby quadrangles, where they could amuse themselves without getting under their elders' feet.
Alexander was a little relieved to see that there were not too many. Currently monopolizing Lelouch were Euphemia and two of her companions – Danielle and Louise - along with Marybelle, Oldrin, and another girl he didn't recognize, who seemed to be doing her best to stay out of sight. Nearby, Nunnally and another girl of about her own age sat on the grass, playing some sort of hand game.
"Alexander!" Euphemia called out, brightening at the sight of him. "Come over here!"
Alexander approached at a respectful pace, forcing himself not to blush or shy as all eyes fixed upon him.
"Marybelle was telling us how you fought those three troublemakers today," Euphemia said, as he came to a halt nearby.
"I...wasn't the only one," Alexander replied awkwardly. "There was another with me too."
"Oh?" Euphemia looked mildly surprised. "And who was that?"
"I...I never got around to asking his name." Alexander felt foolish, and felt even worse when a giggle passed through the girls. He had to force himself not to glance at Lelouch.
"Alexander..." Marybelle was fighting to stop herself from giggling. "There's someone we'd like you to meet."
She and Oldrin shoved the nameless girl forward, so hard that she almost stumbled. She wore a frilly green gown, and her long blonde hair was tied with green ribbons. She clutched her gown at the front, almost shaking with nervousness, her eyes downcast, her face red.
"This is Monica Krushevsky," Oldrin introduced her, smiling broadly. There was a pause, and the giggling grew worse. Alexander didn't understand what was going on. What was so important about this particular girl? He fixed his eyes on her, trying to think if he'd seen her somewhere before.
The penny dropped.
"You're a girl!?"
The words came out before he could stop them. The giggling was replaced with a cacophany of hysterical laughter. Monica looked as if she wanted to sink into the ground and disappear. Even Lelouch was sniggering most unpleasantly. Nunnally and her little friend just looked confused.
"Was she that convincing?" Oldrin managed to splutter.
"Now now," Lelouch interjected. "You'll have to forgive Alexander. He doesn't understand these things."
Something in his tone made Alexander feel even worse. He felt foolish, ignorant, ill-mannered. How could he have not noticed that? How could he have thought such a pretty girl was a boy? He was such a fool!
"Lelouch, don't be horrible!" admonished Euphemia. "Anyone could have made a mistake!"
"If I dressed up as a boy, would I convince anyone?" wondered Marybelle aloud, her finger on her chin.
"No!" protested Oldrin, half-horrified, half-laughing. "Princess is too pretty to look like a boy!"
"But there's an idea!" proclaimed Danielle. "Next time it's fancy dress, let's all dress up like boys!"
"Good idea!" agreed Louise. "But...what would the boys wear?"
There was a pause, and all eyes fell on Alexander and Lelouch. Alexander felt distinctly uncomfortable.
"Oh, but, I like Alexander the way he is," complained Euphemia.
"Me too!"
"And me!"
"No, we'll leave Alexander as he is." Marybelle stepped around him and hooked her arm through his, resting her head on his shoulder. "I'll be Rosalind dressed as Ganymede, and he my Orlando."
"No you can't!" protested Euphemia, grabbing Alexander's other arm. "I'll be Alexander's Ganymede!"
"Oh?" Danielle cupped her hands in feigned bashfulness. "Does that mean we can have Lelouch?"
"What? No!" Euphemia let go of Alexander's arm and grabbed Lelouch's arm instead. "I'm the only one who can marry Lelouch!"
"Nooo!" Nunnally stomping up to them, red-faced and pouting. "Nunna marry Lulu!"
Alexander stared as Lelouch was beset by Euphemia, Nunnally, Danielle and Louise; grabbing his jacket and pulling him in all directs. Marybelle sighed.
"It'll be a little while before they calm down," she said. "So you can look after Monica, okay?" She immediately steered him back in front of Monica, then let go of his arm.
"Julia!" she called out to Nunnally's companion. The younger girl toddled up to her and Oldrin, and Alexander found himself alone.
With Monica.
He supposed he should say something. But no words came to mind. He glanced at Marybelle and Oldrin, who were both giggling behind their hands. For them, this was fine entertainment.
"I...Miss Krushevsky..." he stammered. Then, all of a sudden, Monica grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the gap in the hedges, eliciting squeaks of surprise an delight from Marybelle and Oldrin.
"Alexander!" yelled Lelouch, amid his admirers. "Come back here! You can't desert me like this!"
Monica eventually stopped a little way along the corridor of hedges, letting go of his hand.
"I'm sorry," she said, awkwardly. "I...I couldn't say anything with them watching."
"No, I'm the one who should apologise," answered Alexander. He felt a little less awkward now that they were alone, but only a little. "I fear I've embarrassed you."
"Is is strange to you, that I dressed like that?" She looked away, still embarrassed, but to Alexander she seemed irritated too, resentful even.
He'd had enough. He couldn't take any more of this. He was sick of not knowing what to say.
"I really don't understand, Miss Krushevsky." It was the only honest answer he could give. "I don't understand any of this."
There was silence, the sounds of the party hovering in the air nearby.
"I want to be a knight," she said. "Is that strange to you?"
Once again, Alexander did not know what to say. He knew Empress Marianne had been a knight, and Cornelia was becoming one too. But if that was so, then why was Monica being so strange about it?
"I...don't think it's strange."
"Why?" She raised her head to look him in the eyes. There was something hard in her reply, something suspicious, angry even. What sort of game was she playing? What answer did she really want?
"Should it be strange?"
Monica looked away, fingering the skirt of her gown.
"When I tell people I want to be a knight, they laugh at me," she said, bitterly. "Boys pick on me, and girls laugh at me. Only Princess Cornelia doesn't laugh at me."
Alexander remembered the first time he had seen Cornelia, that day at La Casa Pacifica. He remembered that awe, that wonder.
"You admire Princess Cornelia?"
"Don't you?" Monica rounded on him, clenched fists held over her chest. "She's so brave and strong! She doesn't let anyone order her around! She told me I could be a knight too!"
She trailed off, her enthusiasm suddenly fading.
"Why...isn't it strange to you?" she asked. "Every other boy who hears of it laughs at me. Why don't you?"
Alexander's heart felt heavy and cold. He was going to have to lie to her, as he had lied to every other person at St Darwin Boulevard; the lie that was his life. But no other answer was possible.
"I don't know why it should or shouldn't be strange," he said. "I've only ever lived with my father, until two months ago. Princess Cornelia was the first woman I've ever met, and the first girl I ever talked to was Princess Euphemia, at the grand tournament."
He paused a moment. Monica was staring at him, wide eyed.
"I don't know about boys and girls, men and women," he went on. "I don't know why they do what they do, or whether they're supposed to do it or not. I only know the things my father taught me."
For a long time, neither said a word.
"You're strange," she said. "But I don't mind it."
Her lips began to curl upward, forming ever so slowly into a smile.
A crack like a bomb going off rang through the air. Alexander jumped, lightning flashing through his nerves, looking around for where it had come from.
Then he saw the lights, blue and white in the night sky above. Another crack like thunder, and this time a glittering kaleidoscope of red and green. Cracks and more cracks, the sky filling with shimmering, fizzing lights of a thousand and one colours.
Alexander stared up at the fireworks, entranced. It was almost like...
Thunder, crashing nearby. Hot wind rushing over him.
Alexander froze, the images rising unbidden to fill his mind. He wondered where they were coming from, and why now?
Flames crackling, the sound of children crying.
His entire body went cold, sweat plastering his hair to his forehead. He tried to regain control, to will the images to leave his mind, the horrible fear to subside.
Screaming, the crash of falling timbers.
"Alexander?" He could vaguely hear Monica's voice. "What's wrong? You've gone all pale!"
"Down with the Shah! Foreigners out!"
"Shoot the traitors!"
"Nothing's wrong!" he snapped; a surge of anger, pure and cleansing, driving him back to reality. "I'm fine! It's nothing!"
His chest ached. His heart was hammering so fast he thought it would explode. He tried to breathe, to calm himself as his father had taught him, but the breath would not come. He breathed again and again, faster and faster, but his lungs would not fill. He was choking!
He felt himself slump against the hedge, his hands scrabbling to steady himself, to no avail. He slipped to the ground, blooding thundering in his ears, drowning out all sound.
"Set the place on fire! Let the apostate choke on their ashes!"
"Rasa is avenged!"
Flames crackling, smoke hovering around the ceiling. Heat upon heat, burning his skin.
"There's a kid in there!"
"Help me! Quickly!"
Flashes and bangs, dust billowing over him. Feet thundering.
"Just some kid! Move on!"
"Kill them! Kill anyone with a weapon! Anyone who resists!"
Gunfire chattering, screams.
The ceiling, painted white.
Alexander's eyes fluttered open. He tried to move his head, to see where he was, but he couldn't. He was as weak as a kitten.
"Oh no you don't," came a familiar voice. Marianne's face slid into his field of vision, her soft hand pressing him gently down onto the soft pillow. "Don't try to move, Alexander."
"M...your...Majesty..." he croaked, through a throat that felt like he had swallowed acid. "How did I...?"
Then he remembered. The bangs and flashes, the sudden dread, the terrible sickness, weakness, Monica crying out.
"Your Majesty!" He tried to rise again, panic flooding through him. He had collapsed, made a fool of himself. Had anyone seen him? Had he ruined the party?
"Just you lie down, Alexander." Marianne's tone was gentle, but firm, as she pressed him back down. "You've had a terrible shock. You need your rest."
He laid back down, tears of shame pricking at his eyes.
"Please forgive me," he whispered. "I've let you down."
"Stop that right now," Marianne said firmly. "There's nothing to forgive. You were very ill, and you couldn't control it."
"But...the party..."
"The party went off just fine. When the children went looking for me, I was alone with my old friend Reuben, so no one else saw anything. I carried you up here, waited for the doctor to examine you, then headed back into the fray."
Alexander could not remember ever having felt so relieved. He let out a sigh, settling into the soft pillows. He managed to look around, and saw that he was in his room, the lights turned down low, the sky outside the window dark.
"I'm a terrible mother, really," said Marianne sourly. "If I were a proper mother, I'd have sat here all night with you, guests be damned."
"No, your Majesty!" Alexander croaked. "You...I would never have..."
"If I want to blow off my own party to take care of someone, then I'll do it," retorted Marianne. "As it happens I couldn't get away with it, not with that lot anyway. But I'll thank you not to criticize me for feeling guilty about it."
She saw the look on his face, and smiled warmly, laying her hand on his brow again.
"You mustn't worry about it," she said again. "It's nothing to be ashamed of. I've seen it many times."
"Your Majesty?"
Marianne paused a moment and looked away, her smile tinged with an air of sadness.
"So many battles, so many fights. I've seen some truly horrible things, Alexander, things I hope you never see. Some people see such things, and they just can't forget, even if they thought they did. Certain things, certain sounds, words; they bring it all flooding back."
Alexander wished he could tell her. He wanted to tell her everything, to confess it all and be at peace. It was all he could do to stop himself.
"I...must have upset Monica," he said, sadly.
"I fear so," agreed Marianne. "She was in floods of tears when Euphie brought me to you. They all looked like they'd seen the headless horseman, and I don't blame them, the state you were in; pale as death, eyes staring, the hedge torn half to pieces."
Bewildered, and curious, Alexander pulled his hands from under the sheets. They were bound with soft white bandages.
"Don't worry though," Marianne assured him. "Euphie swore her friends to silence, and Marybelle and Oldrin promised too. I told Victoria and Flora that you'd had a bit of a bad turn, and you needed to rest a bit. They were quite worried, you know."
That took Alexander by surprise. Victoria li Britannia, worried about him? He hadn't imagined her capable of such a feeling.
"Don't be so surprised," admonished Marianne. "Flora's a lovely woman, if a bit naive. And Victoria can be intimidating, but she has a kind heart when she's in the right mood. The girls all want to come and fuss over you, so you'll have to be ill for a couple more days at least." Her eyes twinkled. "Even Lelouch was worried about you."
"He was?"
"In a blind panic." Marianne laughed. "He thought you'd been poisoned. He wanted to seal off the whole place, have everyone examined, and all the food checked. As if I don't know how to deal with poisoners."
Alexander was now thoroughly confused. Lelouch? That angry, resentful child had worried about him? He couldn't imagine it.
"In the meantime, young sir, you need your rest." Marianne settled down beside him, arranging the sheets around him and laying her hand on his head once again.
"Go to sleep now," she said, her voice as soft as warm chocolate. "Go to sleep."
Alexander's eyelids drooped, and he settled into the soft warmth. As he drifted away, he thought he could make out her voice, one last time.
"Go to sleep, my beautiful boy."
Finally got this done. Quite a long chapter this one, with a lot to squeeze in. I might cut it down a little. I'm not entirely sure if this all works out, but I think the last couple of segments at least worked well.