"Why aren't you dancing?"
Eric looked up. Approaching the steps leading to the dais Eric was sitting on was the Parthenian army's new First Lieutenant. He was dressed in formal military attire, and had a midnight blue turban wrapped around his head.
"Should I be?" asked Eric mildly. He was sitting in the chair placed next to the king's; his was shorter, but equally rich in its golden frame and silk cushions. From the raised seat, he was able to see the majority of the Parthenian castle's ballroom, which was filled with hundreds of guests drinking and dancing. Though Eric was currently not dancing, in his hand was a half-empty wineglass containing a liquid he hadn't bothered to ask the name of.
Candy raised an eyebrow. "Isn't it expected for the prince to participate all of the traditional dances?"
"Sounds exhausting." Eric tipped his glass back, watching the red liquid slosh dangerously close to the brim. "Besides, I just danced with Lady Cordelia."
"Yes. Two dances ago."
"Well, I suppose I needed the time to recover."
"I thought you liked her."
Eric snorted. "She chatters. Excessively."
"So do you, at times."
Eric glared at his friend. "Yes, but she doesn't talk about interesting things. Mostly she jabbers on about herself. And the latest gossip plaguing Parthenia's nobility."
"Surely there was something worth listening to in that," joked Candy.
Eric's lips slanted into a smile. "She tried asking if that story going around about me is true."
"The one about the cows?" Candy laughed. "What did you tell her?"
"That of course it wasn't true. Cordelia is the last person I would admit anything like that to. Her tongue is faster than fire; it would undoubtedly reach Father in no time."
"He's already heard about it."
"Yes, but he hasn't heard me admit to it." Eric tipped his glass in Candy's direction. "And lucky for you, your name hasn't come up at all. It seems I'm the sole suspect."
"How unfortunate for you, then," smirked Candy.
Eric grinned. He gestured to Candy's uniform. "Nice outfit."
"Thank you."
"Congratulations, Lieutenant."
"First Lieutenant," corrected Candy. He straightened proudly and gave Eric a rather haughty look. "And soon enough it'll be Captain."
"I'll be sure to warn Kubát you're after his job."
"Please do. He has far too big of an opinion of himself; he needs the competition." Candy looked behind him at the couples spinning throughout the ballroom. "Are you sure you shouldn't be dancing? People will think you're being unsociable."
"Perfect. Let them mingle that opinion in with the cow story." Eric nodded at a specific couple near the center of the dance floor. "Besides, as long as there's one royal out there, I don't see the problem."
Candy's gaze followed Eric's, until he finally spotted the indicated pair. The king of Parthenia, looking very much the noble monarch with a crown resting on his silvering dark hair, expertly led his partner over the floor. He smiled down at her, rarely glancing at the other couples they twirled around.
Somehow, in spite of all of the colorful women attending the ball, Lady Elizabeth Drosselmeyer managed to stand out above them all. She wore a deep scarlet gown that exquisitely complemented the rustic tint of her brown hair, which was accented with pearled pins. A marching necklace and bracelet encircled her throat and wrist, but otherwise she was naked of extra jewelry. She may have looked plainly dressed in comparison to the other richly adorned women, yet there was something about her that made everyone watch as she passed them. Even the king seemed captivated by the attention she effortlessly demanded, unable to part with her hours into the ball.
Candy mentioned something about looking for a dance partner of his own and wandered off. Eric gave him a half-hearted wave, still focused on his father and Lady Elizabeth. He wasn't sure how he felt about his father's affections for Lady Elizabeth. Eric enjoyed talking with her and spending time with her – immensely. If he was being completely honest with himself, he was sure that his feelings for her had developed into something very close to the love he had felt for his mother. Perhaps it was because of that that he had some doubts about his father's attention to her. The king and Lady Elizabeth were dear friends, and had been for years. But if that relationship changed...
He supposed part of him would be thrilled to have her for a stepmother. But even that simple thought made him feel as though he was betraying his own mother, disrespecting her memory. How could he possibly replace her?
He frowned, rotating the glass in his hand. He knew he was worrying about something that had no bearing yet. His father had made no indication of wanting to deepen his relationship with Lady Elizabeth into something romantic. And neither had she. Yet that certainly did not stop the rumors about them from spreading across the kingdom. Some of them had been fairly enthusiastic about the idea of the king and lady marrying. Others had been less...polite. Regardless, Eric had yet to decide what his feelings on the entire matter were.
Eric straightened. The dance had ended, and he saw his father leading Lady Elizabeth towards the dais. He pushed thoughts of marriage and potential stepmothers from his mind and flashed Lady Elizabeth a smile as she ascended the steps to him.
"Eric, dear, why are you not dancing?" she asked.
Eric gave a good-natured shrug. "Stepped on too many ladies' feet. They all refuse to be my partner now."
Elizabeth shook her head in amusement. "What have I told you about princes and lying? I know for a fact that you're an excellent dancer."
"You cannot spend the entirety of the ball in that chair, Eric," his father said firmly. "You are sixteen – you are no longer a child who can sneak off when the ball dulls."
"Dulls? So you agree with me – they do get boring after a few hours."
The king frowned at his son. "You're being rude by not dancing with the numerous ladies lacking a partner."
Eric glanced at the opposite wall of the ballroom. About a dozen or so young girls were standing along it, eyeing potential dance partners. More than a few were watching him.
Eric grimaced and allowed his attention to drift elsewhere. He caught sight of a lone figure standing beside one of the ballroom's pillars and smirked. "But I would hate to steal any potential partners away from Lord Mauscher. He looks so enraptured by it all."
The king and Elizabeth turned to see where Eric's gaze was focused. Isolated in the far corner of the ballroom was Lord Mauscher. He was wearing the appropriate formal clothes, though they were dreary in their dark color scheme. An annoyed frown lined his face as he watched the dancing, as though he would rather endure the worst sort of torture than be forced to remain in the ballroom.
Despite himself, the king could not help the upwards twitch of his lips. "He does look miserable, doesn't he?"
"Quite horrible of you, to make him attend," grinned Eric.
The king let out a chuckle and looked back at his son. "It's expected of him. He knows it."
"Well, don't be surprised if he tries to convince you to change protocol on that tomorrow." Eric brought his wineglass to his lips and drained the liquid, then stood, handing the glass to a nearby attendant. "Very well, Father – I shall dance." He held out his hand to Elizabeth. "May I, my lady?"
Elizabeth laughed. "Of course, Your Highness." She pulled her arm free of the king's and took Eric's offered hand. She winked at the king. "So like his father."
The king looked slightly flustered at that. He opened his mouth to comment, but seemed unable to form a proper reply as Eric led Elizabeth down the stairs. The two were then swept away by the mass of dancing couples, leaving the king standing between the empty chairs meant for him and Eric.
Two dances later, the couples on the dance floor were urged to step to the sides of the ballroom, to make way for the Royal Parthenian Dance Troupe. Eric tugged his hand – perhaps a bit too forcibly – out of the clinging grip of a younger noble girl he had been dancing with, and hurried back to the dais, where his father was already seated.
"Do I sense an attraction?" the king asked sarcastically, keeping his voice low enough so that only his son could hear.
"She thirteen," snapped Eric. "And acts as if she's ten. Is she even old enough to be here?"
His father simply chuckled.
The orchestra began a new, dreamily majestic song. The doors to the ballroom opened, and a flurry of ballerinas in pale yellow gowns gracefully twirled into the center of the room. As they danced, Eric spared at a glance at Lady Elizabeth. She was sitting off to the side of the dais, with other noble ladies of similar social ranking. Sensing Eric's gaze, she looked over at him and gave him a wink. Eric shook his head, smiling, and returned his focus to the dance.
As he looked between her and the ballerinas, a years-old memory of a conversation between him and Lady Elizabeth flickered in his mind. Of a girl who had loved ballet, but ceased to go after her mother's death. A motherless girl, like him. A girl that Eric had helped construct a snow globe for.
Eric fiddled with the tassels on the royal sash tied over his chest, not truly watching the dancers anymore as he pondered the girl who now possessed his gift. He wondered if she had gone back to the ballet since Lady Elizabeth had delivered the snow globe to her. He wondered if she thought about her mother like he did about his, deep in the night when sleep could not ease the most restless of minds.
He wondered what her name was.
/
"You look tired, Eric."
As though prompted by the observation, Eric let out a loud yawn. He turned towards the voice, blinking wearily. Elizabeth was standing behind him, eyebrows raised in amusement as she studied him. Not a single hair out of place, she was brightly alert, as if she had had a full night's sleep. Which Eric knew was impossible, as the ball had gone on far past midnight. It was morning now, and – as far as Eric was concerned – much too early to be awake.
He glanced down at his clothes. His breeches were stuffed lazily into his boots, and the shirt he was wearing was the now-wrinkled undershirt to the formal jacket he had worn to the ball last night. Too tired to change into a nightshirt, he had fallen asleep on the sofa in his bedroom wearing half of his formal clothes. As he was simply going to breakfast at the moment, he hadn't bothered to change.
"And you look as perfect as ever, Lady Elizabeth," said Eric sleepily.
Elizabeth smiled, humor twinkling in her eyes. "Thank you, dear." She raised her hand to her mouth, as though holding back a laugh. "Though I fear what your father will think, seeing you in such a state."
Eric shrugged and ran a hand through his hair, partially smoothing out its messiness. Then he pulled his hand free and snapped his fingers, as though remembering something. "I have something for you."
"Do you?" said Elizabeth curiously.
"Well, for you to deliver."
"I did not realize I had taken up the position of a postman."
Eric grimaced. "Sorry. I didn't mean to offend you. It's just...you are the only one that is able to."
"Oh?" Elizabeth titled her head. "How do you mean?" Then she nodded in understanding. "Ah. You have a gift to send to my world." She frowned. "But you've never been there. Who could you possibly be sending it to?"
Eric hesitated. The idea felt foolish now in the bright certainty of the day, in comparison to the muggy dreams of the night. "Who is she?"
"Who?"
"The girl." Eric waved his hand, as though urging himself to continue. "The one you had given the snow globe to."
An oddly smug smile trailed over Elizabeth's lips. "You have not mentioned her in years. I thought you had forgotten about her."
"I suppose I did, for the most part," admitted Eric. "But last night, during the ballet dance, and with you being there...it sort of all fell back into place."
"Hm." Elizabeth watched Eric with an expression he couldn't quite read. She was quiet for a moment. "She's my niece," she finally answered.
"Your niece," repeated Eric. He supposed that made sense, since Elizabeth had put so much care into the birthday gift. "Well, if she's family, why hasn't she visited Parthenia before? Your family is always welcome here."
"I know. But I'm afraid her guardian simply would not allow such a trip."
"Then let me go with you," implored Eric. "I've been wanting to travel to your world for years. Father hasn't let me go yet, but perhaps he'll allow it if you take me. Then I can just give it to her myself."
"Why is she suddenly so important to you? This gift? After all this time?"
The question took Eric aback. Truthfully, he wasn't sure how to answer Elizabeth. He hadn't thought about the girl in such a long time. But now that the memory of the faceless girl had been pulled free, he could not stop thinking about her. He supposed this sudden connection he felt to her was from their shared loss of their mothers. With no siblings of his own, he had no one to shoulder that pain with. This girl though, she understood it. Perhaps that similarity was the reason he suddenly longed to meet her.
Or perhaps it was something else. Something he felt in his very bones, about the kind of person the niece of Elizabeth Drosselmeyer could be. The possibilities filled him with a dizzying eagerness to know.
"I don't know," Eric said honestly. "I just...it just is."
Elizabeth's smile softened. "What do you want to give her?"
Eric gestured for Elizabeth to follow. She did, allowing him to lead her to the corridor his bedroom was in. Elizabeth waited outside of Eric's room as he went in, and a few moments later he returned, clutching something under his arm. He held it out, and Elizabeth took it with interest.
It was a book. Bound in dark mulberry leather, it looked rather thick, yet felt surprisingly light in one's hands. Across the front of the cover the title Parthenian Folk Tales was stitched in gold thread.
"It's not a fairy tale book, but the stories are similar in theme." A mischievous glint flashed in Eric's eyes. "She can hide it with her other contraband books."
Elizabeth stroked her fingers over the embroidered letters. "It's beautiful, Eric," she said. "But isn't this your copy? I recall reading to you from this very book when you were younger."
Eric shrugged. "I know the stories by heart. Besides, I can always get another one."
Elizabeth nodded in agreement to the logic. "That's true." She looked up at Eric. "This is quite a gift for a girl you don't even know."
"It's not a gift," said Eric hastily, a slight redness tinging his cheeks. "It's...passing on an old book to someone who may not have read it yet."
"Of course," chuckled Elizabeth. "Regardless, I promise to deliver it safely."
"Thank you. But make it seem as though it's from you," Eric added. "After all, she doesn't even know who I am."
"That's fair," said Elizabeth.
Eric was quiet. Then he spoke again, his question rushed as the words tumbled from him. "What's her name?"
Elizabeth tapped her fingers against the book's spine. There was a stretch of silence as she considered him. "Clara. Her name is Clara."
"Clara." The name rolled smoothly off his tongue. It felt right on his lips, a word that the chords in his throat could easily hum out.
Elizabeth adjusted the book against her hip. "Perhaps you shall meet her one day."
The thought sent a surprising thrill through him.
"I'll put this in my room before going to breakfast," Elizabeth said. She eyed his clothes. "Why don't you at least change your shirt, and then meet me in the dining hall?"
Eric laughed. "Very well."
Elizabeth turned around and began making her way up the corridor, humming a tune Eric vaguely recognized. It wasn't until he was changing in his room that he realized it was the song that had been put into the snow globe's music box.
The song echoed in his thoughts for the remainder of the day.
/
/
/
/
A few notes: Eric now addresses Elizabeth as "Lady Elizabeth" instead of the title "Lady Drosselmeyer" he used as a ten-year-old. Basically just to show how he's grown even closer to her, and she insists on him using less formal terms for her. His father still insists that Eric address her as "Lady" though. And as for the folk tales. Yes, it specifically says "Parthenia" on it, even though Clara doesn't know such a place exists. Elizabeth will just have to make up some excuse about it being a made-up fairy tale land for the book.
