Dance With Me, Sway With Me
Like a flower bending in the breeze
Bend with me, sway with ease
When we dance you have a way with me
Stay with me, sway with me
Other dancers may be on the floor
Dear, but my eyes will see only you
Only you have that magic technique
Ger frowns down at the dress she wore, the only thing preventing her from fidgeting in discomfort being her iron self control. The slippers on her feet may be elegant, but comfortable they are not. She misses her boots and wonders if anyone would truly notice if she switched them out. This dress was certainly long and poofy enough to hide them.
"You've plenty other prospects." Truly, there was no shortage of noble ladies that would throw themselves at his feet for the slightest chance to be on his arm. "I am a knight, my lord. Surely you have someone else in mind?"
Artoirel looks at her, his expression severe. Pinched. "I ask for your company because of my... prospects. With you at my side, they will not dare approach. I could have no finer escort." He holds a hand out to her. "Please."
The midlander sighs and places her hand in his, stumbling only a little as he draws her close enough for dancing. Her jaw flexes with her grinding teeth as she follows his lead in truly hellish shoes, stumbling ever so often. Apologies on her lips as she trods on the toes of his shiny dress shoes. This would go far smoother was she in her boots.
The lord twirls her away, then pulls her in, dipping her slow.
Artoirel gazes down at her, his hold on her gentle. His expression almost soft, the blue of his eyes as warm as the small smile curving his lips. "You needn't apologize. You do me a great service. Truly, I am in your debt." He eases them upright again, his hand sliding over her back, the fabric of her dress as he leads them into a swaying motion, her skirts swishing gently.
Ger arches her eyebrows at him, the corners of her lips twitching with an almost smile. "It is my lord Haurchefant you should thank. I was to be at his side for this event."
Artoirel's expression shifts, that small smile flattening into inscrutable expression, a look in his eye that the hyur cannot decipher. "Yes, well... Haurchefant is not the one wearing a dress and dancing with me, now is he?"
He is met with a soft laugh, the tiny knight smiling with surprised mirth at such a mental picture.
"Ah, but you need only ask, Artoirel!" Comes a voice at the entryway. They both turn to find Haurchefant standing there, attired similarly to Artoirel for tonight's festivities.
The knight in Artoirel's arms pulls away, a fond expression softening her face as she greets her lord.
"Mind if I cut in?" The lord grins, already reaching for his knight's hand before Artoirel answers.
Artoirel eyes him with that same severe expression, but inclines his head and steps back. His hands fall to his side, fingers curling inward to bite at his palms. He straightens, holding his arms behind his back. "But of course," he mutters, "you always do." But his bastard brother does not hear him, or perhaps does not care to listen.
Haurchefant positively beams, stroking a hand over their knight's hair and grasping her shoulders to look her over. "My lionheart, look at you! How ever did Artoirel convince you to attire yourself so?"
Ger makes a face. "Twas a favor, my lord, and for one time only."
Haurchefant laughs, tugging her close by the hand and dipping forward to press a kiss to her knuckles. "You look lovely, my dear. As ever."
The midlander ducks her head, her fair skin faintly blushing.
Artoirel feels an ache in his chest.
"May I have this dance?" His brother asks her.
Ger looks to Artoirel then. "My lord?"
What could he say? No? Demand Haurchefant leave? Artoirel sighs, waving a dismissive hand.
"Splendid!" Haurchefant says brightly.
Artoirel watches, forgotten, as Ger kicks off the slippers that had made her stumble, and promptly takes the lead. Dancing with his half brother so smoothly, so effortlessly that they almost seem to float about the room.
"You should wear your boots," Artoirel hears Haurchefant suggest to the tiny knight. "This dress will surely hide them well enough, no?"
Ger smiles at him."We are of the same mind, my lord."
Haurchefant laughs. "I know you far too well, my dear. Besides, those slippers look terribly uncomfortable!"
Ger snorts. "They are as they appear, my lord."
Artoirel watches them dance, sway, twirling about the room. Ger - with a show of the strength she possessed - dipping Haurchefant over her arm. The loud laughter that bursts from the lord's lips echoing in Artoirel's ears.
How comfortable they are together. And the way she looks at him...
Artoirel swallows, turning away.
"Save a dance for me tonight, will you?" He calls over his shoulder, but does not know that she hears him with the sound of Haurchefant's laughter drowning him out.
Tonight, at least, she will be on his arm.
