AN: (By lelaofbast, the sane sister): I got this idea while listening to "The Nutcracker" a few months ago. I was working on one of my other stories and all of a sudden I had a really crazy picture in my head. I'd tell you what it was, but then you wouldn't have to read. Don't worry, Kel gets the same picture.

To set the tone a little, I will say that the italicized portion of the story is set in year 475. (Kel was knighted in 459, so she is about 32 now.) The part that is not italicized is 453. Owen is a first-year, Kel and Neal are seconds, and Joren, Cleon, and Roald are fourth-years.

Okay, tone, set. There was one more thing I needed to do… oh!

Disclaimer: Don't want to forget that. We can't afford to be sued. I mean, all we really have is our dog, but he thinks he's a cat and he talks back. But to be one the safe side, I am admitting that we don't own any of the characters, settings, or plot points that you may recognize from Tamora Pierce's books.

Okay, now my list is complete. I'm making my sister do the AN next time. Poor readers…

Please read and review.

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A Midwinter Story
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By the
LADIESofQUEENSCOVEandJESSLAW:
lelaofbast
And
trollseatfish
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Chapter One: Humiliated
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Midwinter Present
475
Midwinter Past
453
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Midwinter.

A time for families to be together, loving and caring. There were still huge balls, with hundreds of nobles in attendance, but the small parties, started by Lord Raoul, were growing in number. This year, on the third night, the pages were given time off to spend with their families. One of these small parties brought the children of our favorite Tortallan knights to their parents.

Elizabetha, or Bess of Masbolle was a third year. Bess was the daughter of Lady Knight Keladry, the Protector of the Small, and Domitan of Masbolle, second-in-command of the King's Own.

Nealan of Queenscove and his wife Yukimi had a daughter, called Norami who was a fourth-year. Nora had the tall, slender black-haired looks of her mother, but her eyes and Gift were emerald green, like her father and grandfather's.

Pathom and Francis were the sons of Lord Raoul of Goldenlake and Buriram Tourakom. Pathom, their first born, was a fourth-year page, and Francis was a second-year. Their daughter, Neva was nine, but she wanted to be a knight as well. Great-Aunt Sebila was highly upset. Raoul was thrilled.

Merric had married Marguerite of Queenscove, Neal's sister. They had three children, but their oldest, Darrin had attended the academy. Their second child was a girl, Coletta, who was away at the convent. The last one was a boy. Ten-year-old Willis was a first-year page.

Also in attendance was Prince Roald. His wife and kids, (excluding his fifteen-year-old son, Gareth, a squire,) had come down with a mild flu that kept them bound to bed chambers. So while Shinko was warm in bed, surrounded by their three youngest, Roald was spending a quiet evening with old friends.

The last family at the party came from Kennan. Cleon and his wife Ermelian had five children. Their two oldest, Barton and Jozef, were squires. A daughter, Ariana, was away at the academy. They also had Huntir, a first-year page, and the baby, two-year old Zeama.

The pages were humiliated that they had to stand and give a Midwinter recitation for the entire court on the first night. Two days later, they were still complaining.

"It was just so humiliating, Aunt Kel," Nora of Queenscove said.

"In the history of pages, none of them has ever had to give a recitation before the whole court before," Francis of Goldenlake whined.

"Did you hear that, Neal?" Kel asked loudly. "Their recitation was the most humiliating experience."

"No one has ever been quite as mortified," Merric added.

"My big toe!" Neal remarked.

"So you're saying that you've been more embarrassed?" Willis of Hollyrose challenged.

"Of course," Neal retorted. He looked between the other knights that he had trained with.

"Dance class," they said in unison.

"Dance class?" Pathom of Goldenlake asked. Raoul started laughing.

"I'll never forget it. That was hilarious!" he boomed. Neal scoffed and began the story.

"It all started when my Lord Stump Wyldon decided that we had no coordination…"

The pages gathered into the room. They were to start a new class but they were not told exactly what it was. It was to take place three nights a week. Their excited murmurs died down as Lord Wyldon stood before them. With him was a tall, man with a dark brown moustache. He looked dignified, and just one glance at his perfect posture made all the pages sit up a little straighter. Lord Wyldon began to speak.

"Today you will begin to learn a new art. One that will teach you grace, poise, and coordination, all things that we are sorely lacking. I want you all to turn your attention to Adente of Wausau. Lord Adente is the finest dance instructor in the realm."

Whispers fluttered throughout the room, but Kel could only hear those of her group.

"Dance?" Neal asked.

"How jolly!" Owen added. Merric was next.

"There's no way in-"

"Did you really say that?" Marguerite asked her husband.

"Do you think that an eleven-year-old boy was happy about taking dance lessons?" Merric retorted.

"I suppose not," Marguerite conceded. She looked back at Kel and Neal. "Tell the rest."

"There's no way in-"

"May I will remind you that this is part of your training," Lord Wyldon said, cutting Merric's voice from Kel's ears.

"Good evening, gentlemen," Lord Adente said, stepping forward.

"Good evening, Lord Adente," the pages chorused miserably.

"We will begin a study of the art of dance. Now, I know what's running through your minds. Dance is for girls." The boys mumbled their agreement. "But nevertheless, you will learn.

"Now. Tonight we will begin by learning the warm up exercises. Then I will teach you a few basic steps, and evaluate you for casting."

"Casting?" Neal piped up from his spot beside Kel. Lord Adente cleared his throat and glanced at Lord Wyldon before he answered the question.

"At the end of the class, the week before Midwinter, you will give a performance for the king and queen, various nobles, and any of your family members that can attend. Invitations have already been sent out."

Kel felt her face go pale over her Yamani mask. Her friends stiffened as a round of groans rang through the room.

"What are we performing?"

"A traditional Midwinter story," Lord Adente said. Kel noticed that he didn't seem any happier about teaching the pages dance then they did about learning it. He coughed and sent one more glance at Lord Wyldon before answering. "The Nutcracker."

"Ballet?" Merric squeaked. Immediately Kel pictured her friends dancing around in fluffy pink tutus. All the other pages were quiet, stiff and shocked by the news. In Kel's mind, Merric flew into the air and was gracefully caught by the waiting Neal. She grinned, then laughed out loud.

"Does something amuse you, Page Keladry?" Lord Wyldon said. Kel stood to address the training master, slipping her Yamani mask back on. It was now turning crimson.

"No Sir. I was just thinking that we will have to practice. A lot."

Kel's statement proved to be truer than she had ever imagined. A few minutes after she was singled out, the pages were told to stand in three lines of seven. Neal nudged Kel, showing her that during this commotion, Lord Wyldon had slipped out, probably off to his rooms. He didn't have to endure an hour and a half of ballet lessons three times a week. Lord Adente hung up a diagram that showed them how to position their feet.

"The basis of ballet technique is the turned-out position of the legs and feet: Each leg is rotated outward from the hip joint so that the feet form a one-hundred-and-eighty degree angle on the floor. This turned-out position is not unique to ballet; it is used also in many foreign dance forms, including bharata natyam, a classic dance of the Bazhir." As Lord Adente spoke, he walked along the lines of pages and corrected their footing.

Kel smiled at Merric, who stood beside her.

"It's not that bad." He scowled.

"Yet," Neal murmured from her other side.