A/N: Oh, the places I want to take this story. I have all sorts of plot-twistiness in store. I hope you're ready to stick with me on this one, folks. I'm just having so much fun writing this. Mwhahahaha...

One word about the Doctor dancing. It's been done, redone, and done again, and that's just in the New Series. We've seen Rose try to tempt Nine. It was alluded to with Ten in the GitF episode. Of course, the season finale revived it in its own, thoroughly unique fashion with Eleven. I think that if he's been around 907 years, he can dance if he wants to, however he wants to...

The fairytale is irresponsible; it is frankly imaginary, and its purpose is to gratify wishes, as a dream doth flatter. -Susanne K. Langer

Don't ask questions of fairy tales. ~ Jewish Folk Saying

I.

They descended a different set of stairs than the ones Irial had brought them into the Citadel by. This wide spiraling grand staircase was intended to be taken slowly, was intended to impress. It did its job well. Before, Irial had been hurrying them so they could get to their quarters, had taken them through some back way. Now, though, Amy had a chance to really look around her.

There were no lamps or torches anywhere, but the very pale stone walls themselves seemed to glow softly with their own inner light somehow. Where more light was needed, here and there, fanciful sculptures had been carved holding out large globes or elaborate objects that shone more brightly than the rest. At the foot of the great staircase two enormous figures illuminated the entire area. One was dressed as a jester or clown who was bowing, his masked face staring down, his extended hand holding a juggling ball that glowed brightly enough to drive out the darkness from the lower stairs and create odd and disquieting shadows across the jester's face above. The jester's mask was not comical. It seemed to represent a painted face as one might expect, but one half of the face was intended to be one color; the other half was intended to be the other, and almost Egyptian décor around the eyes was the only relief from that stark scheme. The hand behind its back, most disturbingly, held a long curved dagger.

I wouldn't laugh at that one. He wouldn't tell jokes. Any dances or tricks that one did would be ones you'd have to watch out for... Amy shivered.

The other stone figure also seemed masked, a duelist poised on one foot as if caught in midstrike with a slender sword held above his head in what looked like a particular fighting pose. Its cape billowed out like great wings to either side, and the muscles of its arms and legs where they emerged from the stone folds of its robes were straining with the effort of its strike. The mask it wore was terrifying. Its face was a completely smooth curve. It had a warrior's topknot, incredibly detailed hair flowing down across carved armor so real she could almost hear the metal clink, but the face...it had none... His blade was the source of light, its cool brightness more than ample to ensure no one would misstep on the upper portion of the stairs.

Just as bloody menacing. Graceful, frightening...the sort of thing I'll have nightmares about. That stupid jester will be chasing me throwing that juggler's ball and then chuckles here will be flailing about with that silly sword. She sighed. At least maybe I won't be sleeping alone anymore...

"Doctor," Amy said, her voice coming out more hushed than she'd intended as they passed between the large statues. "What are these things?"

The Doctor craned his neck and looked up at them. "Impressive aren't they? The Fool and the Fighter... They've been here in the Citadel for...oh...nobody even knows how long now. They are wonders of the Old Empire. Their creation is a point of legend. They're said to represent the two opposing ways to conquer one's enemies..."

He looked down at Amy with a grim smile on his face and pointed lightly at the duelist.

"He of course represents the more commonly chosen way of force, skill, arms, battle. You know, heroism and derring-do. Letting your weapons do all the talking for you. All that tosh." They looked up at the fierce, blank-faced warrior for a moment, taking in the incredible detail of the carvings.

"Ah. But what can one say of the other, then, if you care not for the Fighter, Doctor?" A deep voice spoke from behind them, and Amy jumped. She noticed the Doctor did not. He did not even turn.

"Ah, Irial. This little tour probably should have been yours, anyway, by rights. I'm sure you know much more about them than I do. Why don't you explain the Fool to us?"

Irial stepped up on the other side of Amy. He did not look at either one of them, only up at the two towering statues shining above them. "The Fool represents the way of conquering that involves deception, distraction, illusion, deceit, sleight-of-hand, what the credulous might even call magic at times. Those who know him better, though, are not usually taken in by his tricks. Even though he may seem harmless, amusing at times possibly, well..." he gestured gracefully to the wicked dagger curving up behind the jester's back.

He turned his head and skimmed his gaze lightly over Amy before fixing those sharp silver eyes on the Doctor. For a moment that Amy felt, felt as if someone somewhere were striking a crystal glass causing it to ring a perfect note that was then sustained beyond what was possible, what was tolerable, the two looked at one another. Then Irial smiled that tiny knowing grin again.

"The Empress our Mother is most eager to meet you, Doctor. You are something of a legend, you know."

He turned, and as he did, his gaze raked lightly over Amy again. He did not otherwise acknowledge her presence. He walked across the great hall toward a large set of open doors and disappeared inside.

Amy turned back the Doctor. He staring after Irial with a blank expression. Amy could feel nothing coming from him. His mind was as studiously closed as his face.

"Doctor?"

He shifted his attention to her, and he became animated again. "Right. Come on, then, Pond. Enough loitering about here in the antechamber. Let's go watch the elves dance, shall we?"

II.

When they entered the ballroom, Amy gasped.

"It's lovely. I mean...look..."

And it was. It really was. A sea of color filled the pale chamber as those within danced, talked, or watched each other with the measuring gazes common to every court in every world. Rishellians of every description filled the huge room. The men were tall, slender, handsome, variations on the theme of Irial. The women wore dresses much like her own, and Amelia understood for the first time why there was so little back to her dress.

Every Rishellian woman she saw had a pair of slightly iridescent wings extending from just between her shoulderblades. Some of them seemed to be larger than others and some had more color to them than others, but they all had them.

*Sign of status, they are. The larger or more ornate those wings, the higher up the social ladder the family they come from is. You'll find that the fanciest pair in the room is going to be on the back of...*

"Her Royal Highness, the Imperial Lady of the Seven Houses, the Moon Empress and Mother to us all, Áinfean."

Irial's voice split the air, and Amy and the Doctor turned to face it along with everyone else. He stood to one side of a raised dais at the far end of the long room. Two uniformed guards bowed as if hearing an unspoken command and then opened a door that opened onto the center of the small platform in perfect unison. As the doors opened, a sigh from the crowd went up.

The doors had opened to reveal a petite but lush form wrapped but by no means much obscured in sheer white attire. She stepped out, and her wings, opalescent and reflecting flashes of blue, red, and silver, became visible. She carried them upright and open on her back like a butterfly's as she crossed the platform toward her throne. She surveyed the room with eyes the color of newly minted silver coins, her raven black hair swept off her face into a hairstyle that was at once simple and very difficult to achieve. Áinfean was exquisite. The beauty of the Rishellians, their high cheekbones, their wide eyes, and their sculptured features seemed to have been refined to its highest art in her.

With her appearance, the ranks of Rishellians had sunk into deep bows or curtsies. The music had stopped and complete silence had settled on the great hall. The Doctor remained as he was, and Amy, worriedly, had followed his lead.

*It's okay, Pond. She's not our queen, right? Trust me, she won't expect it from us.*

As Áinfean sat, she studied the two of them. Amy saw something like amusement in her eyes. Áinfean looked at Irial and something passed wordlessly between them. Then she raised the fingers of her hand slightly. With that tiniest of gestures, the Rishellians around Amy and the Doctor raised themselves and resumed whatever entertainments they had been pursuing previously.

Moments later, a servant appeared at the Doctor's elbow with a note on a silvery tray. He plucked it off and scanned it.

"What does it say, then?"

His lips quirked, but Amy sensed something other than amusement behind his facade. "Apparently, Her Majesty would like to meet us. Right now. How about it? Feel like meeting the Faerie Queen?"

III.

They followed the servant toward the dais. The crowd parted like a sea of silk around them, the Rishellians murmuring as they passed. Amy could feel their regard pressing on her like delicate feathery touches as she and the Doctor slid through them.

Suddenly they stood in front of the carved stone throne. Amy realized that Áinfean was even more beautiful up close. Irial stood just behind the low back of the throne, his hand resting lightly on the curving, scrolling carvings along the back, and as Amy looked from one to the other, she was struck by how much the resembled each other.

Áinfean rose, extended her hand. "So you are the Doctor. Be welcome to the Citadel of the Moon."

The Doctor took her hand, bowed over it in a curiously courtly gesture that surprised Amy. "I thank you, Highness, for your hospitality."

Her eyes sparkled. "Not at all. It is we who are honored by your visit. You, sir, are a figure of legend for us. And I think you of all people can appreciate the irony of that.." Her laughter was a music of its own.

The Doctor smiled. "Well...I'm not as much as all that, I assure you." He had not released her hand.

Áinfean didn't seem to mind. She stepped a little closer to him. "No. Don't be humble. The Empress Síofra, sainted, left detailed records in the Imperial Chronicle of your last visit...particularly of the time you spent..." her silvered eyes flickered over Amy, dismissed her, "...with her privately." The Doctor's smile changed, became somehow sharp around the edges. He would have released her hand, but her fingers tightened on his ever-so-slightly. Her chin rose and her silver eyes held his with a challenge.

Well, she's just bold as brass, isn't she? Amy felt her infatuation with the dainty queen disappearing and the strong need to snatch the little raven-haired beauty bald-headed rising.

Behind the throne, Irial shifted minutely, just the redistribution of weight from one foot to the other, but Amy's eyes flew to him. He was watching her intently, she realized, and suddenly, she found herself wishing fervently for her jeans and jumper. Irial's eyes focused again on the Doctor and the Empress.

The Doctor reached to his side and Amy took his hand.

"Highness, may I present Ms. Amelia Pond of Earth?"

He firmly pulled his fingers from Áinfean's as he introduced Amy. The Empress turned to look at her for the first time, politeness requiring her attention. Amy didn't miss the slight spot of color on her high cheeks or the slight smile on her lips as the Doctor extricated himself from her dainty grasp.

"Amelia is my bondmate."

Áinfean's eyes grew wide and she grew very still. She looked, truly looked at Amy for the first time since they'd entered the room.

"Really," she breathed. "How...unusual. Of Earth? A Time Lord bonded to...a...human? You are just a human, are you not, Ms...Pond, wasn't it?"

Amelia gritted her teeth lightly, thought of a line from one of her favorite movies. With the rich and mighty, always a little patience... "Yes, Your Majesty. Human. All the way through. At least last time anybody checked, that is..."

"Well. Isn't that...charming? Irial, I do believe that you neglected to mention Ms. Pond was the Doctor's bondmate."

Irial bowed slightly. "Apologies, Majesty. I did not sense the connection, and the Doctor is known to travel with companions with whom he has no romantic ties. The bonds of the Time Lords must be of a different type than our own. There were no signs."

"Ah. Well, these things, they do happen, don't they? One grows so used to knowing that..." Her eyes raked over Amy again as she made a dismissive gesture with her hand. The sharp expression in those bright silver eyes did not match the soft amusement in her tone. "Be welcome to Rishell, Ms. Pond." Áinfean bowed her graceful head ever so slightly. "Doctor." There was a deeper inclination on that lovely neck for him. "I am sure we will all be seeing much more of each other during your stay. In the meanwhile, I pray you enjoy this evening's entertainment. Irial, shall we go make the necessary rounds?" She reached her hand behind her without taking her gaze from the Doctor, and Irial took it. Only at the last moment did she turn away. The two of them glided away, one clad in sable, one in snow, down into the swirl of colors below.

Amy looked at the Doctor a moment. He was watching the pair of them as the crowd ebbed and flowed around them.

"Doctor," she said, a little uncertainly.

He looked at her and sighed. "Oh, Pond." He smiled, suddenly antic as he took her hands and led her down from the dais. "Let's go dance, shall we? Might as well have some fun before all the wheels come off." He muttered the last bit to himself almost absently as he pulled her close.

IV.

So they danced. She'd been nervous at first because the formal style the Rishellians favored was nothing she'd ever learned or even seen done. Some forms seemed to be variations on early court dances such as she'd seen from movies about the Renaissance. They would end and then couples dances would begin. She could only think of these as "waltzes with a little something extra."

"Don't worry so much, Amy," he'd murmured in her ear. "It's all in the partner. Trust me." He'd smiled, taken her hand, and pulled her out into the whirling couples.

He's right. It's...easy...

She felt lighter than air as he held her, his strong hands guiding her in the turns and shifts. He danced amazingly well. All the antic disappeared when he wanted it to. His movements became as stately and graceful as any of the Rishellians twirling near her, and that strength hidden in his lean frame he used to lift her slightly as the dance demanded. When he swung her wide, she laughed, her green gossamer skirts belling out around her. The music seemed to be not only in the air, but also somehow to be inside her. It felt wonderful. It made dancing imperative.

*Rishellian music has that effect. You have to be careful with it. It's a subtle psychic manipulation.*

The Doctor twirled her away and then back close to him, grinned at her.

*But, granted, as such things go, not an unpleasant one...mostly...*

What do you mean, mostly?

He steered her around another couple gracefully. His thumb circled on her palm.

*Well, you've heard of elvish pipers, haven't you? People who were made to dance by the fairies until they fell dead?*

She looked up at him with wide eyes.

*Every story has a seed of truth hidden in it somewhere, Amy.*

But how...But that's on Earth...How?

He shrugged, turned her again.

*Ah...there's the great question, isn't it?*

Suddenly, she felt a light tap on her shoulder, a bare feather touch of fingertips. At exactly the same time, she heard that low growl in her mind from the Doctor. She turned, feeling the Doctor's hands come to rest possessively on her waist, pulling her lightly back against him. Irial stood there hands folded behind his back, expression impassive.

"Yes? Can we help you? Something you...wanted?" The Doctor's tone was light, cheerful. Amy felt the lie of it in her mind.

"The Empress requests the honor of a dance with you, Doctor."

His smile became frozen, his green eyes slightly cold. "Ah. Isn't that kind? Well, and I'd love to accept, but I can't just leave Pond here unattended. I'm sure you can understand..."

Irial bowed. "Of course. Such a breach in protocol would be intolerable."

The Doctor's hands loosened slightly. "So..if you'll just be good enough, then, to tell your lady.."

Irial cut him off, extending his hand to Amy with that tremendous natural grace. "That, of course, is why she has sent me to dance with the Lady Amelia until such time as you return. I am only a Raven Lord, and not one of Time, but I trust that for the brief time necessary, perhaps the substitution might be acceptable?" He tilted his head, looked at them both with that old-silver gaze, and Amy watched his lips crook slightly with that enigmatic tiny smile.

Amy felt the Doctor's hands tighten down again, heard that low growl increase.

Is this one of those protocol issues you warned me about?

Reluctant. Irritated. *Yes.*

And if I don't dance with him and you with her, is it going to cause problems, make them angry?

Another pause. Irritation becoming anger outright, frustration. *Yes.*

She put her hand lightly on top of his, squeezed gently.

So...quit being Mr. Possessive Wolfie and go dance with the nice lady with shiny wings.

*Amelia...*

Look. Big girl here. I'll be fine. Let's not make enemies when we don't have to, okay?

Irial was waiting, that smile still hovering on his lips. She stepped toward him, placed her hand in his, and looked him right in the eye.

"Okay, Raven Lord. Let's see what you've got."