Turn and turn about
The King of Attolia liked to dance with the girls with pretty earrings. But what did the girls with pretty earrings think about this?
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A/N: Originally written for a prompt in the Hamiathes Gift Exchange on LJ/AO3.
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"I'm tired," said the king suddenly, petulantly, as if it was her fault. "Go and talk to Agape."
And before she could say or do anything, even before she had time to drop a polite curtsey in parting, Heiro found herself walking across the dance floor towards the Eddisian party while the king retired back to his throne with a loud and weary sigh.
She didn't mind. Of course! He was the king, and he had been dancing a good deal of the evening already, and he had a perfect right to stop and start as he pleased – to call the whole dance over, if he pleased! And she had got fairly used to her dances with the king ending abruptly part way through in those early months of his reign, when her father had been trying so hard to press her sister forwards. At least a dance with the king no longer meant a beating, but it was still not quite nice to be – dropped.
And how did the king know, anyway, that she had spent yesterday afternoon talking to Agape of the visiting Eddisian retinue? The larger palace gardens had been opened for the afternoon for the members of the two courts to admire. Searching for a quiet spot to get away from idle and inane conversation, Heiro had literally bumped into one of the Eddisian ladies doing the same. It had been so like something out of one of the new comedies they had both thought of it independently and laughed; and then apologised and explained their laughter; and then laughed some more. What else could you do after such a gods-sent introduction than sit down together on the bench they'd both been aiming for and discuss Aristophanes?
Eddisians were, apparently, no more stupid than the king was – and a whole lot less stupid than many of the Attolian barons, as far as Heiro was concerned. Somehow they'd got from plays and poetry to much more personal matters: her own troubles with her father, the king and her sister; Agape's narrow escape from being married off to the king of Sounis. They had parted friends – but how on earth had the king known? The King and Queen of Attolia and the Queen of Eddis had been supposed to be have spent yesterday afternoon in private meetings with their more senior ministers.
Just another case of the king's rather uncanny knowledge of apparently everything that went on in Attolia. Heiro scanned along the faces of the Eddisians, and a smile of recognition lit the features of the young woman at end of the row.
"You look like you've been having a difficult time with Eugenides," said Agape warmly, patting the bench space next to herself.
"The King," Heiro said, taking the indicated seat, "was tired." That was one of the strange things about Agape. In her eyes, the king wasn't the king at all. She didn't seem to think it critically or derisively: he was just The Thief and Eugenides and of all really strange ideas, her cousin. That the king had been the Thief of Eddis was not something anyone in Attolian aristocracy seemed ever likely to forget, but one did forget, really, that the king might once have had a name, and people had known him by it.
Agape laughed. "He hasn't changed!"
Heiro looked round. "Really?"
"Eugenides could be absolutely terrible on occasion," Agape nodded. "And take a particular pleasure in it."
"He still does that," said Heiro, thinking of the king's terrified attendants and the way the king seemed to like keeping them that way.
"The duchess's emeralds had to be the worst one," Agape observed thoughtfully. "He stole those out of the her ears while she was dancing."
"With him?!" Heiro checked her own ears, startled, but Agape laughed.
"No! That was the fuss: she hadn't danced with him! Matters might have died down, if only he'd let it be thought that he had. But he went and said in front of the entire court that he hadn't because both the duchess and the earrings were so ugly!" Agape shrugged a little. "Terrible, you see. And always the liking to dance with pretty earrings."
"Ye-es,"said Heiro, reaching up to adjust her earrings. But then, because the king had dropped her and because Agape was nice and kind and knew the king as a frequently annoying person called Eugenides rather than his august and infallible majesty, she added rather crossly: "Do you think he ever remembers there's a person wearing the pretty earrings he's dancing with?!"
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There was a great rustle of movement throughout the room. Servants rushed forwards to move the empty dinner tables from the dance floor; those who wished to dance sought their partners while those who didn't sought seats; and Heiro hurried around the back of the swirling crowd to find Agape.
"Do you think this is the right thing to do? Do you think it's safe?!"
"Don't you go and get cold feet now!" Agape objected in an impassioned hiss. "You're the one who's been talking me into this the last two days!"
"Eddis isn't going to flay you alive or have you boiled in oil!" Heiro retorted. "She'll just – I don't know! Send you home or something. But the Queen-!"
"Isn't going to do anything to you either!" Agape interrupted, patting Heiro gently on her shoulder.
"How can you know that?!"
"Because Eugenides likes you," said Agape, as if this obvious. "Has Attolia ever actually done anything to the people he really likes? Look at secretary Relius. Or the Lieutenant you told me about – Ormentiedes."
"They both got in a lot of trouble first..." Heiro grudgingly assented. "And the king himself-"
"Heiro..." said Agape. "Eugenides has a sense of humour. It may be terribly dry and terribly obscure, but he does have one. That's why I agreed to this. You Attolians all take him so seriously. But if he is cross, we'll stand by each other and get Eddis to defend us. She will. She likes you, too."
"She does?" Heiro looked up in surprise from twisting her hands together. The Eddisian Queen was so – unbeautiful – and kind looking – and veritably magnetic – it gave you a rather warm feeling, to think she might have noticed you.
"She was asking who my new friend was," Agape nodded. "She'll think it's amusing. She suffered quite enough years of people going to court dances and going home without their earrings. He even used to steal hers, you know."
Heiro blinked a moment at that, and then met Agape's gaze with a smile. "All right then."
"Ornon will show you your partner," said Agape, gathering up her skirts in a brisk and business-like fashion.
"Eunice will introduce yours." Heiro gave a small, apologetic smile. "I am sorry. But he is a nice little boy. I'm not important enough to get to dance with anybody grander than the king!"
Ambassador Ornon materialised as Agape laughed, and Heiro found herself gravely escorted to a lesser Eddisian nobleman of the Queen of Eddis' retinue. He was still talking to the Eddisian Minister of War, and so for a moment they had to wait. Heiro peered through the crowd milling across the dance floor once again now the king and queen had finished their opening dance, to see Agape taking the arm of Lady Eunice's younger brother. It really was not a very good match socially: the youngest son of a very minor family was not at all high-ranking enough for the Eddisian queen's cousin. But he was the only partner Heiro had been certain of securing in advance. And obscurity was what they were after, to start the ball with.
The first dance with the Eddisian noble, the second with one of his friends, the next with a rather pushy Attolian, before her original Eddisian returned to rescue her. That was kind of him, Heiro felt, giving him a small but grateful smile. The arrangement had been for Agape and herself to find each other a partner who would dance when they hadn't anyone else, that neither of them might be sitting around to attract the king's attention.
The king! Heiro kept her eyes fixed firmly on the steps of the dance. She must, must not look round the crowd for the king, no matter how much she was waiting to hear his voice. The last thing she needed to do was to go peering about for him like her sister used to do!
When, oh when? And what if he didn't?!
It made it very difficult to look up at all, unless you could be quite certain of the feet which were going by. She did look up once, as the Queen of Eddis's feet passed, and got a warming smile. Then the music stopped and it was Ornon's feet appearing. "I cannot allow Lady Agape's friend to be monopolised," he said, in that grave and rather patronising yet probably well-meaning way of his. "May I have this dance?"
"I would be del-"
Heiro got no further. The King of Attolia had appeared at Ornon's side.
"Ornon," said the King lazily. "There's a Grand Dame of the rather rapacious variety who's looking for a dance. I think she might want to discuss sheep keeping with you."
There was what seemed to Heiro a moment of rather charged silence between the two men. Then Ornon bowed politely, and relinquished his hold of her hand. "It is a subject which seems to arise quite frequently, Your Majesty."
The ambassador moved off in the direction the king had gestured in. Heiro looked away, adjusted her earrings, looked down, adjusted the silver bangle on her wrist ... anywhere but at the king.
His out-stretched hand came suddenly into her field of vision. "Will you?"
Such a languid question. Heiro took a deep breath to gather her courage, and looked up from the king's waiting hand to his face. "I'm tired," she said lightly. "Go and dance with Agape." And she turned towards the side benches with a loud and weary sigh.
It was only a few steps really. It seemed a very, very long way – especially having to keep her arms casually by her sides, rather than clasping her hands in front of her for fear the king would not take 'No' for an answer, and might drag her onto the dance floor as he had once with the queen. Or pull her hair pins out, as he had that night with the queen!
Heiro hadn't thought of that one until now – it was all she could do not to put her hands up and clasp desperately at her hair. Would he – would he – ? She'd reached the bench. She turned round. Sat down. Took another deep breath – and looked up to see Agape and the king starting up the new dance on the far side of the floor.
Well! Heiro sighed with relief. And then found herself the subject of two rather patronisingly sympathetic glances from two other wallflowers sitting out on the bench. They were both older than she was, and of much more important houses. The king never danced with them. Heiro found herself casting a quick glance at their ears – no, they did not have pretty earrings. But one of them looked like she might be going to come and speak. Heiro looked quickly away again. She mustn't be caught up in conversation. Nor asked to dance by anyone else. Just sit and wait. If only the king had asked her for a shorter dance – this was one of the longest in the court repertoire. Or if only she'd brought a book...
Heiro closed her eyes and passed the rest of the first half of the dance murmuring the lines of the latest comedy of Aristophanes. Talking to yourself was a good way to put anybody else off wanting to talk to you.
The mid-point of the music – feet passing in front of her – and Heiro opened her eyes and came back from the rural hill-farm of Aristophanes to see Agape and the king dance past – and stop.
"I'm tired," said Agape suddenly, petulantly, as if it was somebody's fault. "Go and dance with Heiro."
She let go of his hands. Heiro stood up and curtseyed politely. There was a pause and a silence, despite the ongoing music.
The king looked from Heiro to Agape, and Agape to Heiro.
And then his mouth quirked. "You pair of minxes! I shall do just that!"
And the King of Attolia danced the second half of every remaining dance with Heiro and the first half with Agape, apart from the last dance, which he danced with the Queen. It was only when she got back to her room in the early light of dawn Heiro discovered she had just the one of her own carved jade earrings, in her left ear. The right ear had a silver and amber earring that Agape had been wearing.
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