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Matthieu hated this. He hated the diplomats who congratulated themselves on bringing an end to seven (nine, nine!) years of war. He hated the victory on Arthur's face and the relief on Francis'. He hated the woollen breeches a maid had stuffed him into. He hated Guadeloupe and Saint Lucia and Martinique for going back to France, and he hated Grenada and Tobago for not being upset that they were staying with Britain.
"We knew it was coming," Grenada had said that morning. "Why are you so surprised?"
So he stayed in a corner with Florida and Louisiana, playing string games one of Florida’s hair ribbons while the other colonies ate pastries and mingled. He tried not to listen for Francis' laugh, or the rhythm of his step, and concentrated on learning how to make a broom shape out of string.
He didn't hear Francis behind him until he was being swung onto Francis' hip.
Francis laughed at his wide eyes. "Hello to you too, kitten. My beauty," he said with a playful tug on Louisiana's hair. "Did you really think I'd leave without saying good-bye?"
Aveline shook her head, and Matthieu buried his face in Francis' neck.
He tutted. "Now now, little one. Madamoiselle, may I borrow your friends for a moment?"
Florida murmured something that could have been a yes; Matthieu heard the rustle of her skirts as she curtsied, walked away.
"Now." Francis detached Matthieu from his coat, set him on the floor despite his wriggling. "Why so dispirited, my little ones? You look as if our separation is the end of the world."
"It is," Matthieu mumbled, and Aveline nodded.
"We have to eat Arthur's cooking."
"Ah yes, a fate worse than death." He chuckled, took Aveline's hand. "But that's only when he visits, yes?"
"Yes, but..."
"And it's not the last time we'll see each other - the world turns, and England won't have control of you forever."
Matthieu looked up at his big brother. "Do you promise?"
"I promise." He ruffled Matthieu's hair, squeezed Aveline's fingers. "I haven't seen you two lovelies have anything to eat tonight. Shall we get you some dessert?"
Matthieu & Aveline nodded, and let Francis lead them to the buffet.
When it was time to leave, Francis kissed their foreheads, and handed them into Arthur's carriage himself. Matthieu scrambled for the window seat, palm to the glass; and when Arthur's back was turned Francis gave him a wink, then walked back into the ballroom.
It'd be all right, he thought to himself as Arthur climbed in and settled Saint Vincent in his lap, Francis would make it right. All Matthieu had to do was wait.