Somewhere in his sleepy haze, he heard Marcel ring for a servant.
*~*~*
The first party of the season and the Christmas ball were both held at the palace.
The entirety of the lower section of the palace was decorated in holly and mistletoe, long silver silk, and more Christmas wreaths than should have been allowed. Huge fir trees had been brought in and stood in each of the multiple halls and in ballrooms that would be open for the event. Both the trees and the rooms were decorated with hundreds of candles.
Once the ball started, they would all be lit, bathing the inside of the halls as well as the snow-blanketed gardens in candlelight. Every year they had the candles, and every year someone lit something on fire. Henri always said she looked forward to seeing what it would be in a given year.
All the princes and princesses were back. Gilbert had breakfast with his sisters that morning and spent most of his time hiding from his brothers. Louis especially, who was due to become a father any day, had been particularly insufferable about his ability to sire offspring. Gilbert liked to think his engagement would put a stop to some of Louis' needling about how Gilbert was destined to die alone and unloved. Although, knowing Louis, he'd find a way to twist even that somehow.
Squaring his shoulders, Gilbert left his rooms and headed down to the great hall where guests were already starting to gather.
Gilbert made his way through the candles and holly bows, watching the lords and ladies of the court mingle together and sip hot spiced wine. There was music playing, light and easy, in the background. A servant handed him a glass as well.
Scanning the room, Gilbert tried to pick out people he knew. Charlotte was there in full uniform, and he caught sight of Philippe, but no one else. Not surprising, really; it was early yet, and people might be running late.
Guests laughed and chatted among themselves. There was a poker game going on in one room Gilbert entered. By the time he was almost done with his glass of spiced wine, all of the great halls were packed with people.
The biggest hall had been set up for dancing with the musicians there playing much livelier tunes. Gilbert tried to make out familiar faces in the crowd—Gregory, the Mukherjee twins, Takahashi, or anyone he knew and liked. He couldn't spot anyone, however.
Out on the dance floor, all of his siblings were dancing, even Henri with her dark green gown taken out to accommodate the fact that she was big with child. A large crowd of ladies watched Philippe dance from the sidelines, giggling to each other and whispering behind their fans.
Gilbert discovered his glass was empty and went to find another.
A servant helpfully handed him another off a tray, and Gilbert leaned against the wall to sip his wine and watch the dancers.
No one approached him, asked him to dance, spoke to him, or so much as looked in his direction.
A small group of people passed by him, talking to each other and laughing, all holding steaming glasses of spiced wine. One of the ladies looked over at him, her lips curling into a sneer. She said something to one of her friends, and they both burst out laughing.
Gilbert felt his cheeks heat and glared straight ahead, trying to ignore them all.
By the time he was halfway through his second glass of spiced wine, Gilbert had given up looking for people he knew. Off to his left, closer to the doorway, a large group of people burst into loud laughter. As Gilbert watched, one of the people detached themselves from the group and headed across the room towards one of the doorways that led into small sitting rooms.
He blinked; it was Marcel.
Marcel's jacket was again velvet instead of silk, unembroidered. His shirt, cravat, breeches, stockings, and jacket were all very slightly different shades of dark green with touches of silver here and there.
Gilbert started after him. By the time he fought his way through the crowd of people to the small sitting room that he'd seen Marcel disappear into, Marcel wasn't there.
There were only a few other ways Marcel could have gotten out of the room. So Gilbert headed straight across the sitting room, opening the door at the far end. This door led into a small library, and Marcel turned away from one bookcases he'd been studying as Gilbert entered and closed the door behind him.
"Gilbert." Marcel smiled. "I was just about to come and find you. Sorry I didn't greet you earlier, I was detained almost as soon as I walked in."
He did not have a hard time believing that; Marcel had always been popular at court. "It's all right," Gilbert said, leaning against the door. "You're here now."
Marcel moved to stand beside him, and Gilbert saw the arm he had this evening was silver metal with delicate cutout patterns all the way up it so that the entire thing looked like silver lace. The fingers looked like they could be manipulated too, and his cane matched, as always. "We should talk about how we are going to make the announcement," Marcel said, voice low and deep. They were very close. Marcel had a sprig of mistletoe pinned to his lapel, and there was another above the doorframe.
"You wore them," Gilbert said, surprised, and reached up with his free hand and touched one of the silver earrings Marcel was wearing. The little bee swung, its tiny legs and wings working.
"I'm sorry," Marcel said, voice low, and Gilbert looked up, startled, to ask why.
Then Marcel's metal arm was loosely looped around Gilbert's waist, pulling him in close, and Marcel's lips were gently covering his own. For a split second, Gilbert didn't respond, and then he was kissing back without thinking. Marcel let out a breath as if he'd been holding it, and he kissed Gilbert with passion this time, as if Gilbert's mouth on his was the only thing keeping him alive.
Marcel's mouth tasted like spiced wine, his body was pressed against Gilbert's, slotting them together. His lips were soft, and Gilbert surprised himself by pushing his tongue into Marcel's mouth, one hand gripping tight to the front of Marcel's jacket.
Marcel broke the kiss, stumbling a few paces back. He looked disheveled, lips a little swollen from their kisses, jacket crushed where Gilbert had gripped it.
Gilbert just felt stunned. Marcel had kissed him. He'd kissed Marcel back and he'd...
"I'm sorry, I... I just can't..." Marcel bolted for the door, and Gilbert stepped back instinctively, trying to get out of the way. Marcel fumbled with the nob, wrenched the door open, and almost overbalanced himself in his haste.
Then he was gone out of the study, and Gilbert was left standing staring after him.
"Wait!" Gilbert's wits finally caught up with him, and he threw himself at the door, through the sitting room, and out into the great hall where the dancing continued, once again trying to catch up with Marcel.
Of course, by the time he made it to the great hall, Marcel was nowhere to be seen.
He pushed forward through the crowd and press of bodies, trying to spot Marcel as he did. A flash of silver over to Gilbert's left made him spin around, but it was just one of the streamers. Gilbert stood still and breathed, trying to focus and calm himself. Why had Marcel kissed him? Was he drunk? No, it was too early in the evening, and if it had been a drunken impulse, then why rush off? Right before the kiss Marcel had said he was sorry …
Standing in the middle of the throng of partygoers, Gilbert thought of the feeling of Marcel's lips against his, Marcel's arms around him. He thought of the way Marcel would look at him when they were alone together, sitting and talking in his rooms, having a glass of brandy or wine just enough for Gilbert to feel warm, relaxed, and comfortable. There was always such affection in Marcel's eyes in those moments, such caring and tenderness shot through with a little bit of fire … Oh God. He was
such
an idiot.
Another flash of silver caught the light, and Gilbert pivoted around. To the right of the great hall were two glass doors leading out onto a stone patio and the gardens beyond. There was someone out on the patio, and Gilbert a tiny flair of light as a match was struck.
Pushing through the crowd, Gilbert slipped through the doors and out onto the patio.
Marcel was there, leaning against a low stone railing for support, looking out towards the gardens. He held a lit cigarette with a hand that visibly shook. It was strange, because as far as Gilbert knew Marcel hadn't smoked since they were teenagers. Gilbert wondered where he'd even gotten it.
"I'm sorry," Marcel said again, not quite looking at him. "I'm so sorry; I shouldn't have kissed you like that, without your permission. It will never happen again."
"How long?" It wasn't the question he'd thought he'd start with, but he needed to start somewhere. "How long have you thought of me like that?" He couldn't make himself say love, because even now he could not truly believe that Marcel could love him as more than a friend and a brother.
Marcel laughed without much humor. "Forever. At least since we were children." He took a draw on the cigarette and blew smoke into the frigid air. "I've always loved you."
"But…" Gilbert's thoughts stumbled over this, trying to make sense of it. He should have known, should have seen this coming, but Marcel was—well, Marcel. It seemed so impossible that Marcel could want him, love him in that way. Gilbert was ugly and unremarkable, how could Marcel have such feelings for him? Besides Marcel was Gilbert's best friend, someone who was always there, like his sisters and brothers, and he had never thought past that. He was an idiot, he should have seen it, should have known, but he hadn't seen it. Gilbert had not even bothered to look. "But what about Julian?"
Marcel made a frustrated noise. "I like Julian, but I'm not in love with him, nor is he with me. We are friends, we sometimes share some bed play, and for a while it was convenient for the both of us to pretend there was something more to it than that. It cut down on the number of nobles drunkenly propositioning us at parties if we pretended we were exclusive to each other. We never have been, though. Julian's not comfortable with monogamy, and I've been pining for you since I was sixteen." He took another long drag from the cigarette.
"I'm sorry," Gilbert said. "But I never …"
"I know." Marcel waved his hand, but there was real pain behind those two words and Gilbert could not help but flinch a little. "And I swear to you," Marcel went on, "if you still want to go through with this marriage, nothing needs to change. I would never push you into anything you didn't want." He winced. "Not anymore—"
"I wasn't unwilling," Gilbert cut in and then blushed. "I mean, I've never thought of you like that, but just the same I didn't mind the kiss."
Marcel stared at him for a long moment, and then he let out a breath before moving a few steps closer. "Do you still want this marriage?" he asked. "I'm not asking you to love me the way I love you or even to sleep with me. Just for a merger of our households and names. That's all, Berti, truly. If you don't want to go through with it, I'll understand, or if you need more time, we can postpone the announcement."
"Maybe we should." Gilbert didn't know what to think. The kiss had been nice, but when he tried to think of doing more than just kissing with Marcel, his mind boggled. In theory, he knew Marcel was considered very desirable, had lovers and numerous admirers. He'd just never looked at Marcel and thought of them together in that way. He reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I don't know, Marcel, I need time."
"All right." Marcel swallowed hard, but then dropped his cigarette, crushing it out in the light dusting of snow and reached for his cane. "I'll go find your father. Tell him not to make the announcement tonight."
"I should do it," Gilbert said as Marcel passed by him on his way back into the ballroom.
"No." Marcel shook his head. "No, you don't have to. I'll do it."
"I'll come with you." Gilbert followed Marcel back inside the palace.
His father was actually not hard to spot, with all of his private bodyguards trying to blend in with the partygoers in their nice clothes and failing at it.
"Majesty." Marcel bowed when they were close enough. Henri-André smiled and waved them closer.
"And how are both of you this good evening? Enjoying the party, I should hope?"
"I am." Marcel gave a small, polite smile. "But I'm afraid I must beg a favor. Would it be possible for us to postpone this evening's announcement?"
Henri-André smile dropped. "But why? The papers have already been signed."
"We know." Marcel and Gilbert exchanged glances, and Marcel bowed his head again. "We aren't asking to break things off. We are simply asking for time."
His father did not look pleased and inhaled as if he were about to go off on one of his lectures. "I need time," Gilbert said before Henri-André could start.
"Gilbert." Henri-André pinched the bridge of his nose with the hand not holding a wineglass. "We have spoken of this before."
"But—" Gilbert started, and Henri-André held up his hand.
"No. The papers are signed, I will announce this engagement, and you two will be married. If you hated it, Gilbert, then you are not required to live together, speak to each other, or have any dealings aside from the minimum required for business arrangements. I am sorry if you are not happy. I truly am, I wanted you to be, but you will marry. That is your duty to the crown, and you will marry who I say. That is your duty to your emperor. You are my youngest son, but you are still a prince, and at the end of the day being happy is not your right, it is a luxury. One that I may or may not choose to bestow. Understood?"
Gilbert stared numbly at the floor, aware that all of the lords and ladies closest to them had turned to stare. His father's guards were purposefully not looking at him at all. With his luck, his siblings were probably watching as well. They had all accepted their marriages with grace befitting their station. He gritted his teeth and bowed low. "Yes, Your Majesty, I understand."
"Good." Henri-André turned away. "I will make the announcement at midnight. Be ready, both of you, to present yourselves properly to the court."