Before Harry, as sudden as the blink of an eye, stood an ethereally beautiful woman, red hair flowing around her and green slitted cat's-eyes shining out of the dark. "Godmother," he groaned.
"Yes?" she said. "Did you have a wish?"
"Not for anything important enough to bargain with you over," he told her firmly.
"Nonsense, child," she told him, patting him on the shoulders. "Everyone deserves a chance to go to the ball and meet their handsome prince."
He batted her hands away "I don't want to meet a handsome prince, Godmother, I'm a man," he whined, and she just stared at him incredulously until he hunched up and added, "And besides I told you, I'm not bargaining with you over this."
"This one's free, Kiddo," she said, "I promised your mother."
"You promised my mother I'd get to go to the White King's ball?"
"Mmm-hmmm," she said.
"Hell's bells," he cursed, and closed his eyes. He hadn't had a lot of dealings with the Leanansidhe, his dead mother's old friend, but one thing he had learned was that once the phrase "I promised your mother," came out, he no longer had any choice in the matter.
"Wonderful!" the Leanansidhe said, clapping her hands delightedly. "Now, obviously you can't go to a ball dressed like that."
"It's a costume party," he told her. "I'll go as Arthur Dent."
She narrowed her eyes at him. "You'll go as something that won't embarrass me by proxy," she said, and gestured at him. "Turn around, let me look at you."
He sighed but obeyed. It would be fun in a vindictive sort of way to turn up dressed in finery that outshone even Justin's, and if he knew his godmother, that's what he'd end up with. He imagined himself in a finely-tailored black tuxedo and top hat, like his father's old stage costume, or splendid medieval furs and a velvet tunic embroidered in gold, as he endured her hands running assessingly along his body, measuring out the countours of his neck and shoulders and chest, the circumference of his waist, and then, with a shudder under his skin, even up his inseam.
Finally she stepped back and said, "Yes, I believe that will do," and snapped her fingers once. He felt the tatty old robe fade away into something else, something much heavier, something that had the feel of crinolines. "Godmother," he said slowly, "What did you do?"
She smiled at him. "Why, look at yourself, godson," she said, and waved a hand at a nearby pile of grimy half-melted February snow. It turned itself into a Harry-height, glassy-smooth mirror of ice, and he braced himself, and looked.
He was wearing a ballgown, all in white and pale ice-blue, embroidered with thousands of tiny, glittering beads like patterns of frost on a window. The skirts belled out widely around his feet and rustled when he moved, and the bodice was cut low and wide, showing off the curves of his neck and shoulders. Somehow, without any extra padding, it managed to give the impression that he had breasts - not large ones, more the size that Elaine's had been three years ago when she was just starting to develop, but there. The dress, or possibly some sort of underpinnings, nipped in tightly at the waist, not quite enough to be uncomfortable yet but enough that he could feel it at every breath, and it gave him a distinct curve and made his chest swell with every breath.
His dark hair, previously shaggy and in dire need of a trim (as usual), had been pulled back and away from his face, intertwined with tiny white flowers and silver pins, the slight natural curl somehow emphasized in a few locks that softly framed his ears, and the chain of his mother's pentacle necklace had turned into a wide band of dark blue velvet, a choker that didn't quite give the impression of a dog collar while drawing out the whiteness of his skin and disguising the coarser lines of his throat. Something subtle had changed the apparent contours of his face, too; his cheekbones were more prominent somehow, his chin less so, and his eyes looked huge and smoky and somehow tragic. His skin was lightly dusted with something pale and glittery, just below the level where anyone would consciously notice.
The overall effect was clearly that of a lovely woman. A tall, slender, muscular, boyish, but not unfeminine woman. He choked. "Did you dress me up as the Snow Queen?"
She propped her hands on her hips and gave a satisfied nod. "It suits you rather better than I expected, Godson, and the white will serve as a compliment to your hosts while the design is a warning, to anyone who might wish you harm, that you have powerful patrons."
"Or that I'm suicidally reckless," Harry said.
"In which case they'll stay away in order to avoid collateral damage," Lea smirked. "Now, child, it is a costume party, after all. And you have to admit that no one, much less that awful DuMorne person, would ever guess it was you."
"Well, Elaine might," Harry muttered before he thought better of it.
Lea gave a peal of laughter. "What sort of bedroom games have you been getting up to?" she asked. "Oh, yes, you will do well. Now, you still need shoes. Heels won't do, you're tall enough already. Something comfortable, that you can dance in, I think." She snapped her fingers and he felt his slippers tranform into something that hugged his feet, almost but not quite too tight, contoured perfectly to him. He would've bet a lot that they were as icy and elegant as the dress, but he wasn't going to give Lea the satisfaction of looking.
"Now, the ideal, of course, would be a horse and carriage, or perhaps a lovely Kelpie boy to give you a ride," she said, "But there is a difference between making an entrance and making a spectacle of yourself, and perhaps we had best err on the side of caution. DuMorne did have good reason for keeping you hidden away, after all. Luckily there's quite a short Way through Winter from here to the Raith estate."
"What if I don't want to go?" Harry asked her.
She gazed at him, suddenly serious. "Tell me that three times, Harry Dresden, and I will see to it that you don't, no matter the consequences, for unwilling will be worse than not at all."
He was silent. Tell me three times, to one of the Fae, meant it must be the truth. Harry probably could have lied anyway; after all he wasn't a fairy himself, but it would still be dangerous, and he really, really didn't want the Leanansidhe as an enemy. And, well, he did kind of want to go. Even in this ridiculous outfit. He would outshine everyone there, and nobody would have the least idea who he was (except just possibly Elaine.) He would be free, for once, and he would finally be able to get out of this house and see something of the shining world he'd been learning about but never experienced. And he wouldn't even have to say hello to the vampire prince, probably.
She took his silence as the assent it was, and nodded, then produced a small square of paper covered in silver gilt. "There are three things you must remember before you go, Godson. And they are vitally important." She handed him the paper. "This is your invitation. Don't lose it. One thing a mortal should never do is go to a vampire ball uninvited. It is one of the Winter Queen's invitations - she wasn't going to use them all anyway - and it doesn't specify a name." She handed him the card, and he frowned at it, and finally managed to tuck it down the front of the bodice while she continued speaking.
"Which gives me the second item: Tell no-one who you are. You know already that names are dangerous, but for you, in particular, upon the grounds of the White King," she shook her head. "DuMorne's anger will be the least of your troubles if you do."
Harry nodded.
"And finally," she added, "Since I'm giving you this free, I must do it under the notice of my Queen. Which means that at the mid-night hour, as her power starts to turn toward the day, all that I have given to you will fade. The dress will go, the shoes, but most importantly of all, as my favor leaves you, so will your right to use that invitation. You must be off the Raith grounds - preferably back in the Nevernever - as the clock strikes twelve. Do you understand?"
He nodded again.
"Unless, of course, you wish to bargain with me for more time? No? No? Ah, well, midnight it is then," she said, and opened them a door in the world.
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timeasmymeasure
Re: Fairy Tales: A Lady Fair to See (2/?)
Date: 2011-03-14 03:52 pm (UTC)"Yes?" she said. "Did you have a wish?"
"Not for anything important enough to bargain with you over," he told her firmly.
"Nonsense, child," she told him, patting him on the shoulders. "Everyone deserves a chance to go to the ball and meet their handsome prince."
He batted her hands away "I don't want to meet a handsome prince, Godmother, I'm a man," he whined, and she just stared at him incredulously until he hunched up and added, "And besides I told you, I'm not bargaining with you over this."
"This one's free, Kiddo," she said, "I promised your mother."
"You promised my mother I'd get to go to the White King's ball?"
"Mmm-hmmm," she said.
"Hell's bells," he cursed, and closed his eyes. He hadn't had a lot of dealings with the Leanansidhe, his dead mother's old friend, but one thing he had learned was that once the phrase "I promised your mother," came out, he no longer had any choice in the matter.
"Wonderful!" the Leanansidhe said, clapping her hands delightedly. "Now, obviously you can't go to a ball dressed like that."
"It's a costume party," he told her. "I'll go as Arthur Dent."
She narrowed her eyes at him. "You'll go as something that won't embarrass me by proxy," she said, and gestured at him. "Turn around, let me look at you."
He sighed but obeyed. It would be fun in a vindictive sort of way to turn up dressed in finery that outshone even Justin's, and if he knew his godmother, that's what he'd end up with. He imagined himself in a finely-tailored black tuxedo and top hat, like his father's old stage costume, or splendid medieval furs and a velvet tunic embroidered in gold, as he endured her hands running assessingly along his body, measuring out the countours of his neck and shoulders and chest, the circumference of his waist, and then, with a shudder under his skin, even up his inseam.
Finally she stepped back and said, "Yes, I believe that will do," and snapped her fingers once. He felt the tatty old robe fade away into something else, something much heavier, something that had the feel of crinolines. "Godmother," he said slowly, "What did you do?"
She smiled at him. "Why, look at yourself, godson," she said, and waved a hand at a nearby pile of grimy half-melted February snow. It turned itself into a Harry-height, glassy-smooth mirror of ice, and he braced himself, and looked.
He was wearing a ballgown, all in white and pale ice-blue, embroidered with thousands of tiny, glittering beads like patterns of frost on a window. The skirts belled out widely around his feet and rustled when he moved, and the bodice was cut low and wide, showing off the curves of his neck and shoulders. Somehow, without any extra padding, it managed to give the impression that he had breasts - not large ones, more the size that Elaine's had been three years ago when she was just starting to develop, but there. The dress, or possibly some sort of underpinnings, nipped in tightly at the waist, not quite enough to be uncomfortable yet but enough that he could feel it at every breath, and it gave him a distinct curve and made his chest swell with every breath.
His dark hair, previously shaggy and in dire need of a trim (as usual), had been pulled back and away from his face, intertwined with tiny white flowers and silver pins, the slight natural curl somehow emphasized in a few locks that softly framed his ears, and the chain of his mother's pentacle necklace had turned into a wide band of dark blue velvet, a choker that didn't quite give the impression of a dog collar while drawing out the whiteness of his skin and disguising the coarser lines of his throat. Something subtle had changed the apparent contours of his face, too; his cheekbones were more prominent somehow, his chin less so, and his eyes looked huge and smoky and somehow tragic. His skin was lightly dusted with something pale and glittery, just below the level where anyone would consciously notice.
The overall effect was clearly that of a lovely woman. A tall, slender, muscular, boyish, but not unfeminine woman. He choked. "Did you dress me up as the Snow Queen?"
She propped her hands on her hips and gave a satisfied nod. "It suits you rather better than I expected, Godson, and the white will serve as a compliment to your hosts while the design is a warning, to anyone who might wish you harm, that you have powerful patrons."
"Or that I'm suicidally reckless," Harry said.
"In which case they'll stay away in order to avoid collateral damage," Lea smirked. "Now, child, it is a costume party, after all. And you have to admit that no one, much less that awful DuMorne person, would ever guess it was you."
"Well, Elaine might," Harry muttered before he thought better of it.
Lea gave a peal of laughter. "What sort of bedroom games have you been getting up to?" she asked. "Oh, yes, you will do well. Now, you still need shoes. Heels won't do, you're tall enough already. Something comfortable, that you can dance in, I think." She snapped her fingers and he felt his slippers tranform into something that hugged his feet, almost but not quite too tight, contoured perfectly to him. He would've bet a lot that they were as icy and elegant as the dress, but he wasn't going to give Lea the satisfaction of looking.
"Now, the ideal, of course, would be a horse and carriage, or perhaps a lovely Kelpie boy to give you a ride," she said, "But there is a difference between making an entrance and making a spectacle of yourself, and perhaps we had best err on the side of caution. DuMorne did have good reason for keeping you hidden away, after all. Luckily there's quite a short Way through Winter from here to the Raith estate."
"What if I don't want to go?" Harry asked her.
She gazed at him, suddenly serious. "Tell me that three times, Harry Dresden, and I will see to it that you don't, no matter the consequences, for unwilling will be worse than not at all."
He was silent. Tell me three times, to one of the Fae, meant it must be the truth. Harry probably could have lied anyway; after all he wasn't a fairy himself, but it would still be dangerous, and he really, really didn't want the Leanansidhe as an enemy. And, well, he did kind of want to go. Even in this ridiculous outfit. He would outshine everyone there, and nobody would have the least idea who he was (except just possibly Elaine.) He would be free, for once, and he would finally be able to get out of this house and see something of the shining world he'd been learning about but never experienced. And he wouldn't even have to say hello to the vampire prince, probably.
She took his silence as the assent it was, and nodded, then produced a small square of paper covered in silver gilt. "There are three things you must remember before you go, Godson. And they are vitally important." She handed him the paper. "This is your invitation. Don't lose it. One thing a mortal should never do is go to a vampire ball uninvited. It is one of the Winter Queen's invitations - she wasn't going to use them all anyway - and it doesn't specify a name." She handed him the card, and he frowned at it, and finally managed to tuck it down the front of the bodice while she continued speaking.
"Which gives me the second item: Tell no-one who you are. You know already that names are dangerous, but for you, in particular, upon the grounds of the White King," she shook her head. "DuMorne's anger will be the least of your troubles if you do."
Harry nodded.
"And finally," she added, "Since I'm giving you this free, I must do it under the notice of my Queen. Which means that at the mid-night hour, as her power starts to turn toward the day, all that I have given to you will fade. The dress will go, the shoes, but most importantly of all, as my favor leaves you, so will your right to use that invitation. You must be off the Raith grounds - preferably back in the Nevernever - as the clock strikes twelve. Do you understand?"
He nodded again.
"Unless, of course, you wish to bargain with me for more time? No? No? Ah, well, midnight it is then," she said, and opened them a door in the world.
Re: Fairy Tales: A Lady Fair to See (2/?)
Date: 2011-03-14 05:03 pm (UTC)Please continue!