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Chapter XXXIX - Love is a Dance

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It seemed such a strange thing—to be so in love. Not knowing whether it would stay, or if this new way of life would come and go with the spring tulips that bloom and then die.

Love at the beginning is so beautiful. Like a herd of wild horses that dash across the plains, seemingly endless, their hooves kicking up dust, going on forever, steady and magnificent. But Athena had only read about those horses in books. Seen those images in her mind. Herds of horses may not even dash across the plains in far-away-lands. That may not even be true.

But, even if there weren't any horses, there were still tulips. And those tulips would bloom this spring. And they'd be the most lovely thing she'd ever seen.

There they were. Still covered under the snow, but there. The bulbs they had planted a year or so before. All tucked in for the winter, hibernating.

She gripped her wagon tighter and heaved it across the castle-yard. Its wheels trembled while crossing the pebbled driveway.

Sir Claudius opened the front doors, running to her side. "Athena, what is this?" He pointed to the wagon. A boxlike shape sat in it, covered with a pale tablecloth.

"A late Christmas present," Athena said, pushing past him and entering through the doors.

"Do you need help?" he asked.

"No, I can manage," she said.

Athena trudged in through the doors. The Grand Hall was lit up, welcoming her. The wagon stopped its twisting once off of the gravel.

Sir Claudius followed close behind. "For me? I'm not sure I understand."

"Technically, it's for me," she said, dropping the handle and yanking off the tablecloth and revealing a peculiar instrument of technology. "From Aunt Helena. She had it sent from Dublin."

The man squinted, almost ready to back away from the thing. "I've never trusted new technology, Athena. You'll have to explain to me what it is."

"It's a phonograph," she said. "It plays and records sounds."

"Re… cords?"

"Yes. You speak something into it and it will repeat it back."

"Is that… natural?" Sir Claudius grimaced and backed away from the thing. Its tall spherical head had a dark inside. He was sure something was going to pop out and eat him.

"You look so frightened, for a dragon. I'm not sure I've ever seen you frightened before," Athena said, playfully. "It won't bite, I promise."

"Why did you bring it here?" Claudius asked, staring into the bottomless pit.

"To play music, of course!" she replied.

"Is it a musical instrument?"

"Of sorts. It's a new invention."

Claudius shuddered at the word. Invention.

She grabbed hold of the handle and began cranking it, before laying a disc down onto the circular table. She moved a needle pin over onto the disc. Crackles and pops hissed out of the enormous horn. Claudius covered his ears and shrank into himself.

But soon, even through crackles and pops and hisses, a single note emerged. It was low at first, like a dismal hum, but it grew into a sound.

"What is that?" Claudius asked, lifting his head.

"A pianoforte. Isn't it lovely?" Athena asked, smiling, entranced by the waves and vibrations flowing through the air. She leaned against the phonograph and curled her fingers under her chin.

"Is there a small pianoforte in there? Like a music box?"

"No, no, Claudius," Athena laughed. "The music comes from the disc. The music is ingrained in the disc. Come here."

Athena took Claudius by the wrist and pulled him over to the phonograph. He winced. "Look." She pointed to the disc.

There were small little grooves in the disc, rounding about and about, encircling the entire thing.

Sir Claudius's eyes fixated on the grooves, studying them. Leaning over and bending his back, he nodded his head. "I believe I understand. The needle pressing into the disc is what captures the sound, and then it comes out of this…" He tapped his finger on top of the horn, but quickly backed away, feeling as though it would zap him. "It's interesting, I will admit. However, I do not fully trust it."

"Why?" Athena questioned.

"I just don't. Something isn't quite right about it."

"Oh, Claudius, you've been in this castle for far too long. You need to get out into town, or even better, Dublin! We need to visit one day and see all of the incredible sights. We could even go to—why… we could go to London! I haven't been in years. We must go and see all of the new inventions and buildings. There's so much you haven't seen." She interlocked her fingers into his, beaming up at him.

Claudius's hands turned cold, like stone.

It was such a strange thing—to be so in love. Never fully knowing what would happen if you reached your hand out to touch your lover's: Would they take it and kiss it with their warm lips, or would their hands turn to stone?

The tune continued to play—one note turning into multiple. It soared and rose above their heads, filling the castle with music and song—music and song and vibrations and waves that had never existed there prior.

Athena tried to pull her hand out of Claudius's, but he only gripped tighter. "I apologize, Athena. I'm not feeling well," he said.

Athena's gaze faltered. She drew nearer to him. "Would you like me to turn off the music?"

"No, no. I like the music. We can bring it over to the fireplace. Let us go sit in our chairs."

Claudius walked over to his seat and fell into it. He placed a finger upon his brow, rubbing his temples. "Much better."

Athena rolled the wagon on over to the fireplace, never letting her eyes off of Claudius. "Tea?"

"No."

The girl took her seat and ran her fingers over the elaborate, snake-like lines on the armrest. "If you would rather be alone, Claudius, I'll see myself out."

"No, no, stay," he demanded, shutting his eyes.

"Of course." She crossed her feet and placed her hands into her lap.

Music surrounded them. The soaring Romantic piece on the piano had ended, and now a lovely little waltz sounded. Athena bobbed her head and tapped her fingers to the beat.

Something arrested her and suddenly the girl rose up out of her chair, pitter-pattering her little feet to the tune of the waltz. Holding her arms up as if dancing with someone, she smiled and swayed with the song.

Claudius watched out of the corner of his eye. Her deep blue dress, the color of the night sky, billowed and bounced. There was a sheen, sheer quality about the gown that he'd never observed in a piece of fabric before—almost as though the dress were made out of clear pristine water. Like the galaxies in the night sky that swirled about, turning as the earth turned.

Both were in a state of dreams. Athena dreamed that she was dancing with a stranger, someone who was there but she couldn't see. Someone who she felt touching her hand and pressing his palm into her back. And Claudius dreamed that the sky was dancing in front of him to the tune of a little waltz on a strange machine.

An entire orchestra contained in a small box. An entire man contained in a small castle. Then there was the night sky in front of him, dancing out of her own accord, entirely free.

"Athena."

The girl twirled around, lowered her hands, and faced Claudius. "Yes, dear?" She smoothed her dress, walking to him. Her eyes narrowed as she fixed her gaze upon his troubled brow.

"I enjoyed the music. You danced beautifully," he said, reaching for her hand and patting it.

"I do hope it relieved your ailment," she replied.

"It did." He smiled.

"I only wish I could have danced with you, instead of a stranger."

Claudius chuckled, then sighed. "How nice that would have been."