Title: Invitation to the Dance
Author: Kastrel
Fandom: Original
Rating: Not 18+
Summary: The romantic hopes of two adolescent fairies are interrupted by a badly timed cold. Can their awkward advances survive it?
Bunny: #1
Feedback: Feedback is encouraged and very much appreciated!

Feorin Larkfeather ran a hand distractedly through his length chestnut hair as he left the fairy castle and strode off into the nearest meadow. With keen, violet-blue eyes he scanned the horizon and was concerned to see clouds growing to the North, but for the moment at least, the sun was shining brightly and a gentle breeze rustled the long grass around his knee-high boots. Speeding up, and attempting to put the towering castle behind him as quickly as possible, he came upon the swift flowing stream which crossed the meadow a little earlier than he had expected. Still agitated, Feorin didn't walk along the stream's length for the 100 metres or so until he got to the wooden bridge that crossed the water. Instead, he hesitated for a moment, judging the distances, and then leapt onto a stone half-submerged in the water. Once he had a firm purchase, he repeated the action, jumping for another one. Feorin moved with the grace and balance of all his people, but even this was not enough to save him when, as he landed on the third stone, it turned under his foot, and tipped him unceremoniously into the stream. Feorin gasped as he landed in the ice-cold water, and quickly glanced around to check that nobody had seen him do it.

"Hopeless!" He scolded himself angrily, picking himself up and wading through the water, which came up to his knees, "why are you even considering this? She'd never take a stupid, graceless dolt like you!" Reaching the bank, he looked down at himself. His pale green tunic was drenched up to the waist, and his darker trousers were wet through. Slowly he took off his boots and poured the water back into stream, then, after looking around again, wrung out both of his socks. Standing, and trying not to shiver as the wind blew cold through his sodden clothes, he set off again through the grass and the blue and white flowers that grew in clumps around him, an undignified squelching sound pursuing him with every step.

Eventually he reached the boundary, defined by a line of daisies that signified the end of the fairy kingdom. The castle was not a central stronghold, but a summer dwelling that king, queen and royal family were currently staying in. Feorin himself was a noblefairy, his mother being a third cousin of some removals to the king, and he had travelled to the castle for the king's sport, as well as the annual royal dance. And also - although he had not admitted this to anyone - for Anesta, the king's youngest daughter. They had met several times, and seemed to be getting on well, but Feorin found it difficult to tell from her polite, cheerful responses how much of an impression he had made. It had occurred to him more than once that the princess might deliberately be stringing him along; her wicked sense of humour would ensure she found it highly amusing. At any rate, beautiful Princess Anesta was the reason that he had felt the need to clear his head before the evening.

For it was now the afternoon before the annual royal dance: an opportunity for introductions to be made, and friendships renewed, as fairies from all over the kingdom flocked to the King's beautiful country castle. Most fairies of Feorin's age, (just over 100, although he looked only 18), would be going alone, the boys to stand around and be introduced to girls by eager parents, and the girls to sit demurely and be introduced to the boys. Only a very few would be able to find a partner, and it was something of an achievement to do so, not to mention making the evening more enjoyable. Feorin paced up and down the boundary line, trying to picture what he would say to Princess Anesta. He had no idea; she would very probably refuse him; no doubt she had already found a partner; why had he left it this late? It was no good, he shouldn't even bother, he had no hope at all. Round and round his thoughts went, and back and forth his feet carried him.

As he paused for a moment to look up at the sky where the sun was setting, something caught his eye. Just across the border was a patch of brilliant blue cornflowers. In his preoccupied state of mind, the only thought that came into Feorin's head was that they were the exact same shade of blue as Anesta's eyes.

"I'll pick them for her," he murmured to himself, not noticing that he spoke the words aloud, "and present them to her as a gift when I ask." He hesitated for a moment on crossing the border. It was not by any means forbidden, but the fairy kingdom kept its subjects safe from certain things: they would never grow older, become ill or be killed. Once a fairy crossed the border he laid himself open to all of these. But it was only a moment, Feorin reasoned, there would be no danger, and he crossed the line as the sun set at last in the west.

He scooped up a handful of the blue flowers, shivering properly now that the sun's warmth was not there to counteract his wet clothes, and quickly stepped back across the line of daisies. He still wasn't sure what he was going to say to Anesta when he asked her, but he felt a little more positive now that he had the flowers to give to her. Starting back towards the castle, he reminded himself that he ought to change out of his wet clothes before he met her. In his new optimism he was determined to get everything right.

Entering the castle, Feorin headed straight towards his rooms in the North tower. His heeled boots rang briskly on the stone-flagged floor of the corridor, and he didn't even glance at the delicate tapestries to either side of him. He was trembling with excitement as he changed his wet clothes, putting on a tunic and waistcoat of violet, and trousers of mauve; the colours which most suited him, and which had left many a young admirer swooning. Admiring his reflection in the mirror, he noticed that he was looking a little pale, but decided that it too suited him. Picking up the flowers, he shut the door behind him and went to find Anesta.

Feorin reached the door to Anesta's room, and stopped. All his old insecurities came back to him. She would say no, she would already be going with someone, she would laugh at him. This last option was the most worrying, and he could not dispell it from his mind with memories of her character. For a moment, he considered turning around and going back. Then he took a deep breath, and knocked.

Princess Anesta opened it. She was wearing a lilac purple dress, and her sleek blonde hair hung in loose curls to her waist. She was barefoot, and Feorin was struck once again by her natural loveliness. Her face lit up as she recognised him.

"Feorin! How pleasant to see you here; come in, please." Her musical voice bubbled with laughter and her eyes glittered with a mischevious smile. Feorin relaxed, and offered her the flowers.

"These are for you, my lady," he said awkwardly, entering her chamber as she closed the door.

Anesta took the flowers and gestured to a pair of soft chairs that stood by the fireplace in her sitting room. The fairies were very free about the younger generation visiting each other: it was accepted that any fairy knew his or her own mind well enough by the time they came of age (at 80), and was capable to choose their own suitors. Anesta was a testament to this.

"Feorin, what have I told you about calling me 'my lady'? My name is Anesta. If you persist, I shall have to call you Lord Larkfeather, and that is such a mouthful." Anesta watched as the young fairy squirmed and blushed at her mock admonition, before putting him out of his misery. "But thank you for the flowers, they're just beautiful. Sit down while I look for a vase. Would you like something to drink?"

Feorin took his seat and shook his head. "No thank you, my-, I mean, Anesta. Er...there was something I've been meaning to ask you..."

Anesta placed the flowers in a vase on the windowseat, which looked out over the meadow, before sitting down herself. She had a very good idea what Feorin had come here to ask her, but she wasn't going to let him out of it so easily. "Oh, yes? And what would that be, Feorin?" She watched him enigmatically, tucking her feet under her on the seat.

"Er...well...I was wondering...err...if you'd like...err...to...come-to-the-dance-with-me," Feorin finished very quickly, trying to get it over with. He watched Anesta apprehensively as she twirled a strand of her long blonde hair.

She made him wait a full 10 seconds before she answered. "Why, Feorin, I'd love to!" She exclaimed, dazzling him with a sudden smile.

Feorin could scarcely believe his luck. In all his worrying and uncertainty, he'd almost forgotten the possibility that she might say yes. "You would? Oh well, that's wonderful! Er..." He stopped, and put a hand to his nose. It had just started to itch violently. He rubbed at it in surprise. Anesta, who was gazing at the flowers in her lap, didn't seem to notice. Feorin continued to rub, but the itch persisted, and even seemed to be getting stronger. He suddenly realised he was going to sneeze, right now, right in front of Anesta. It was mortifying, and he rubbed harder at his nose, but to no avail. Feorin's face started to relax into a tortured, faraway, desperately sneezy expression. He just had the presence of mind to turn aside from where he faced the princess, and cup both hands over his face before he sneezed a resounding, "Heh'ISHOO!!"

Anesta looked up, as Feorin slowly lowered his hands, looking horribly embarrassed. "Bless you!" She exclaimed in feigned surprise. In truth, she had been stealing secret glances at the poor fairy all through his tortured build-up, culminating in Feorin's loud and forceful sneeze. Now that it was finished, she looked at him more openly, and noticed again how pale he looked, except for his nostrils, which were now tinged slightly with pink. A thought, or rather an idea, rose in Anesta's mind. "Feorin, these flowers are lovely," she began, choosing her words carefully, and taking her time. "Wherever did you find them? I've never seen any like them in the meadows."

Feorin smiled a little shyly. "Oh, they're not from the meadows. They were just outside the border, in the human field beside it. I crossed over to get them."

Anesta nodded, satisfied. She was right. It was a nice feeling. "Well, thank you so much for them Feorin, but I'm afraid that they weren't the only thing you brought back from the human realm. You've caught a cold."

Feorin blinked in surprise, but hurried to correct her, "oh no, you don't understand, you see, I was only there for a couple of seconds, I didn't have time to-," again, there was the peculiar itching in his nose, and Feorin tried to talk through it in the hope that it would go away, "I can't be ill, there wasn't time to-heh...heh... Hah'SHISH!!" This time he only managed to catch the sneeze against his wrist, and blushed, realising that Anesta was watching him with a knowing look. "I can't be ill," he protested hopelessly.

Anesta smiled at him sympathetically, but the mischievous glint had not left her eyes. Feorin was too adorable when he was embarrassed, not to mention those sneezes. Anesta had always found an attractive fairy sneezing to be a most alluring thing, and here was the one she thought of as attractive above all, in her own sitting room, having caught a cold!

"I'm terribly sorry, Feor, but that's simply the way it is. Don't worry, it shouldn't last too long, if you take care of yourself." Or let me take care of you, she thought playfully. But Feorin didn't seem to be taking much notice of her advice. In fact, he was battling another sneeze.

"Excu-...heh!" he began, trying to hold it back, but it was a failing effort. Finally Feorin managed to dig out an embroidered handkerchief from his waistcoat pocket, and held it just in front of his nose and mouth, as his handsome features fell once more into their pre-sneeze expression. Totally caught up in it, eyes unfocused and breath hitching, he didn't notice Anesta watching him openly now. At last he rocked forward with a deep, "Heh'TCHOO!" This time, however, his itching nose wasn't satisfied with just one sneeze. Only a few seconds later another hit, "IIISHOO!! Heh...heh-heh..." the tickle toyed with him, one moment receding, another so strong it was painful, before, "HurrSCHOO!" Feorin sneezed for a third time, sweet release blossoming in his itching sinuses. Wiping his nose delicately with his handkerchief, he attempted to look dignified, although his eyes were watering and his throat burning. He sniffed as quietly as possible, and was horrified by the liquid sound it made.

"Bless you," Anesta purred, standing up in a smooth movement. She walked across to him, and gently put a hand to his forehead, removing it a moment later with a satisfied nod. "That's what I thought. You're running quite a high temperature, Feorin. Let me get you a drink." She went to a small cabinet, and poured them both a glass of sweet, sparkling wine, carrying his over to him, before seating herself comfortably on the large arm of Feorin's chair. She understood the effect she had upon the young fairy, and it gave Anesta great pleasure to imagine his thoughts as she sipped her wine and watched her poor, unwell beau.

Feorin took the wine and drank, enjoying the warmth it gave his mouth and sore throat. Unfortunately, the bubbles made his increasingly sensitive nostrils itch, as did Anesta's scent as it wafted over him from where she sat so close. Feorin's eyebrows cinched irresistably together as the need to sneeze overtook him, but he managed to excuse himself before it became too strong to speak.

"I heh...need to heh...to..." he stuttered out, raising his handkerchief with one hand and turning his head away from Anesta, who deftly reached out and relieved him of his wine glass. Immediately he brought his other hand up and covered his nose and mouth with the soft cloth. Not a moment too soon, for the sneeze was not to be denied.

"Heh'SHISH!" Feorin's body rocked forward with the force of the sneeze, and Anesta heard another delicious sniff before he straightened up, and pained expression on his face. "Blease egscuse be..." he muttered indistinctly, before turning away and blowing his nose directly into his handkerchief.

"Bless you, Feorin," Anesta murmured softly, as the young fairy sat up once more, his nose now definitely reddened by the attentions of his handkerchief. "I feel dreadful that you have got yourself into this predicament for my sake," Anesta continued. "Is there anything I can get for you?" Owing to the fact that fairies never got ill in their kingdom, there were no medicines for those who were foolish enough to catch a human sickness. Feorin would simply have to suffer.

This Feorin was slowly resigning himself to doing. Ever since the first sneeze he had started to feel worse and worse, and now wanted nothing more than to sleep in his own bed for a while. His head throbbed, his throat was sore, and his nose was so blocked he could barely breathe. He struggled to concentrate on Anesta's voice, before answering thickly, "No, it's fide, thang you, sniff, I would really just prefer to go back to by roob and try to sleep id off..." realising how strange his voice was sounding, he turned aside to blow his nose a second time. He felt totally ridiculous, and it was not something that pleased him at all. It had always seemed strange, the way Anesta made him feel so awkward and unsure of himself; none of the other girls he knew gave him such trouble. Feorin secretly believed that her self-assuredness was what made her so alluring to him. Finishing blowing his nose, he collected his thoughts as Anesta stood up.

"If you're sure I can't do anything..." she said, smiling. Feorin nodded, pocketing his handkerchief, and made to stand. Almost immediately a wave of dizziness overcame him, and he swayed, raising a hand to his head. Anesta quickly put an arm around him, but, being only slight, was unable to hold him up as Feorin staggered, and his weight carried them both onto the nearby chaise longue. Anesta laughed as she extricated herself from under one of Feorin's arms.

"Well! I suppose that means you'll have to sleep it off here," she continued as she straightened up, finding it difficult to hide her glee at having an attractive, sneezy boy in her living room, just crying out to be taken care of. "Don't worry about it," she cut across him, for Feorin was trying to protest, "I'll get you a blanket and some pillows, and you can rest here for a while. Now just relax and lie down." She quickly went into the next room, and Feorin did as he was told, leaning back against the cushions and closing his eyes, longing for a release from his relentless headache.

The next thing he knew, he felt cool fingers massaging his temples and forehead, and opened bleary eyes to see Anesta, upside down, appear in his vision.

"Shhhh," she whispered, continuing to knead gently, right where his headache had been worst. Now, it was almost gone.

"How long was I asleep?" He asked quietly.

"An hour or so. You were starting to wake so I thought this might help you relax. I trained as a healer, you know."

"I didn't know. You're very good." Feorin closed his eyes, reflecting that this was the first time he had felt Anesta's hands on his skin, other than the odd brush of their fingers. It was wonderful, and he longed for more of it. But just as she moved her fingers to his cheekbones, he felt an urgent prickling in his nostrils. Quickly he turned his head to one side, and started searching in his pockets for his handkerchief, while pressing the knuckles of one hand against his itching nose in an effort to quell the urge to sneeze. Just before he gave up the search, he felt fabric under his fingers, and looked through watering eyes to see Anesta handing him a flowery lace handkerchief. He raised it as the itch in his nose refused to be held back any longer.

"Heh'TCHISH!...TSHOO!...... TSHOO!" With each sneeze Feorin's whole form convulsed inwards in a jerky motion, and he let out a shaky breath, dabbing at his nose with the handkerchief and sniffing as discreetly as he could manage. When he had finished, he sat up slowly. It was a totally alien concept to Feorin that he should not be in total control of his body: having never been ill before, he had no idea how to cope with it. Anesta watched him, seemingly casually, but her bright eyes didn't miss a thing from where she knelt on the rug beside the chaise longue. As Feorin sat back, their eyes met, and just for a moment, he thought he saw past the layer of playfulness and intelligence, to the fairy girl behind it all. Anesta blushed, and looked down.

"I suppose we won't be going to the dance," she said softly, but not in tones of disappointment, more as a statement of fact.

Feorin hadn't thought of this; the whole idea of the dance had been driven out of his head. "I...well..." he began, thinking it through, "I might be well enough to go..."

"Feor, don't be silly," Anesta cut him off firmly, "you can't even stand up by yourself, I don't think you're quite up to an evening of dancing."

"We could-...well, you could-..." It was Feorin's turn to look down, "You could always go with someone else," he mumbled, wishing that this wasn't an option.

Anesta, who had been expecting a fight on her hands, stopped being firm. "Feor," she said gently, "there isn't anyone I'd rather go with. If you're not going - and you're not - then I'm not going, either." Feorin met her gaze, which was sincere, and totally direct, unlike every other time he'd seen her.

"You mean that?" She nodded, and sat down beside him on the chaise longue. Very slowly, as though they were miles and miles apart, instead of inches, they leant forward and shared a kiss. They were both smiling as they drew back from each other, and Feorin saw the impish spark come back into Anesta's eyes.