Pfft, I am sooo imaginative with titles.

Hear the Bell of the Fairy Dance

I like to watch my sister dance; perhaps it is because she does it so beautifully or because I do not see her do such a feat anymore.  There she is, outside of my study and I take my mind of the work in front of me to watch her. She walks to the music box that our grandmother had given her when she was small and opens it, the window does not stop my mind recall its delicate melody and I can imagine it echoing in the empty room. She smiles, steps back and dances.

I remember when she was at her first dance, she was nervous and so was my mother. Her birth had caused a large scandal and she bore little resemblance to our parents. Our parents did their best to ignore such rumours and continued to bring her, despite her constant protests, out to gatherings. I remembered that I was the first to dance with her for no one else would and she took my hand happily and forgot her fears. That day our grandmother, who was a tyrannical duchess that never liked the fact our father married our mother, remarked rather loudly that she resembled our late great aunt, Ethel, if it was not for her headstrong nature and lack of a broken nose. Since then no one made any comment about her and I had grown a newfound admiration for the woman.

I see the door open and she froze, I could not see who the person was but I was surprised at her smile and how she stops to converse before pulling the person to the centre of the room. He is a large man, well-built and fierce. His hair was wild and just about covered his eyes and his skin was pale and marred with many thin scars. Who is he? He is no one I knew of. Not a servant of the castle, he doesn’t even look like he is from the city. He scowled and pulled his hand away from her grasp but she takes it again and placed it around her hip, holding the other in her right hand.

 I was itching to find my brother or mother to share this sight with for she had often made such a noise about dancing with anyone that the thought of her actually forcing someone to dance with her is such an unusual and much welcomed sight. She found no joy in dancing with her fiancé and I do not blame her for she often complains about him tramping on her toes. But perhaps she is tired of the stiff gentlemen that she must put up with everyday. I think she stopped finding joy in such things the day her marriage was arranged and after that has seen what all the balls, all the dinners, all the dances were really for: Nothing more than business opportunities and political unions.

This man treads clumsily and hesitantly, obviously he rarely danced, but she does not wince in pain. He seems uncomfortable and blatantly expresses his dislikes for such things and yet holds her with such care, as if fearing to hurt her, his large hand covers hers completely.

They stop dancing and he awkwardly pulls himself away from her hold. She ought to be glad to have me as a brother for I know well enough not to speak of this event to our parents least they lock up the young sir and marry my sister off immediately before the prince’s family ever discovers this. It is so very obvious, even if she denies it, that she holds more affection for this man than all the gentlemen suitors she had received over the years. I hope he shares the same admiration for her and maybe she might know love and glow from its beauty.

But should that ever be the case then I pity them greatly.

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I'm trying to do a decent romance fic but that's not working all too well. Next time I'll do vampires that sparkle, I swear it! That or something with the Sugar Plum fairy, which is more or less the same thing.

Oh and if you have writing and want a critique or review I'm more than happy to do so.