Archive of Our Own

Irnes couldn’t dance.

Not well, at least. Spinning in lopsided circles didn’t exactly count as a waltz, and relying heavily on your partner to support you was considered quite rude nowadays.

But that didn’t stop him from swaying gently in the corner of the ballroom, humming to himself as the first dance of the evening started on the main floor. The Harbingers always led Her Majesty’s first dance, and as much as he’d like to consider himself one of Her Majesty’s favorites, he was nothing compared to the children of the archon herself. He was a servant, nothing more than one of the many disconnected pieces from Il Dottore, a puny rat among gods.

He wasn’t moping about it, definitely not. The glass of wine in his hand kept him company through the night, easing his sorrows and making the world fuzzy around the edges. How many glasses had he had? He didn’t remember. There were other things on his mind, things that needed to stay as far under the surface as he could keep them.

If only it were that easy.

“Drowning your sorrows all alone?”

The question snapped him out of his thoughts, his gaze meeting the piercing one of the Fair Lady, her wicked smile drawing up the hidden unease in his gut. Her evening gown shimmered under the pale lights, the rubies and topaz woven into the fabric boasting her power and stature. Her opulent golden jewelry only added to the aura of power that surrounded her, one that Irnes couldn’t contest. Or ignore, for that matter.

“I suppose you could say that, my lady.” He answered, humorlessly chuckling to himself. “What can this humble old man do for you?”

“Nothing. I desire nothing from you… but you seem familiar.” Signora’s tone was firm, cold. Irnes suppressed the physical shudder of fear it inspired, being considered familiar to a Harbinger never ended well. “Have we met previously?”

The short answer was no. Not formally, at least. But perhaps… That fire that had held him in its embrace, digging so deeply into his flesh that he could still feel its roar…

“Perhaps, a long time ago. Though my memory isn’t the most trustworthy, nowadays.” Taking another sip of his wine, he watched as Danya scrambled towards the main floor, tugging on the Regrator’s coat with eyes that shone like stars drawn straight from the heavens. “I think I would remember meeting someone as beautiful and magnanimous as yourself, my lady. I don’t think I’d ever be able to forget.” Reaching out with a shaky hand, he drew hers up, planting a gentle kiss on the silken black of her glove.

“You really are a flatterer, aren’t you?” The Fair Lady clicked her tongue, though her expression was only one of amusement. “You play a dangerous game, fanning the flames.”

“I’m very familiar with flames, my lady. They have held me once before.” Irnes drew back, his smile unlaid with an old sadness. “Is that what you wish for as well?”

Signora watched him for a moment, as if considering. But he could see the recognition in her eyes, that long simmering grief.

“And what if it is?”

Irnes chuckled, his grip tightening on his cane. “Then I’ll have to oblige. I hate to see you dancing alone, my lady. Allow me to take your side.”

A hand. A broken, blackened hand. Two souls, flickering like the flames that decorated the chandeliers above. His offering, his tribute.

She took it.

The Fair Lady’s exposed skin was warm, nearing the scalding heat that the fire carried. Her steps were slow, calculated. Each movement bled into his own, his body being led along by her confident strides. He tried not to stumble, to fall in an embarrassing display of foolishness, but his leg had never really recovered. Pitching forward, he expected to meet the cold hardness of the floor-

Instead landing in the Fair Lady’s arms. When had she stopped? His mind was caught between the past and the present, confusing her face with one he so desperately wished to forget-

“Careful, love.”

Love.

His creator had never loved him. He was a mistake, out of the pod too early and screwed in the head- according to them. But his creator loved the child, a similar mistake with less preparation. Irnes had done everything right to please his creator, had worked tirelessly on hundreds upon thousands of designs, but was never seen. He didn’t desire fame, fortune, the status that he could have. No, he simply wanted his creator to look at him, to say that he was worth something, anything-

“You think too much, don’t you?” The Fair Lady’s tone barely hid her mirth, a small smile creeping onto her face. “Only the creations of the Doctor get that lost in themselves.”

“I suppose you are right, my lady.” He murmured, steadying himself as she held his hand tightly so he didn’t fall. “I apologize, let us dance.”

The music itself could be compared to many things, but to him it was a symphony of mourning. Blaring through the large ballroom, it washed through the air like the tide coming in, the Fair Lady taking his hands in her own. She had always been taller than him, with her crown of ashen porcelain, her crystal shoes catching the light. Beautiful, like a queen in her glory. But he was not her king, he never would be.

“You remind me of him.” Signora murmured, drawing him in close and leading him into a slow spin. Irnes ignored the ache in his leg in favor of blinking in surprise, unseen behind his mask. “He enjoyed dances like these… Even if they were only reserved for the noble folk.”

“What was his name?”

“Rostam.”

“A strong name. A lover?”

“Yes. The only.”

Irnes smiled sadly, the Fair Lady opening her arm for a small spin. Who was he to refuse? Ducking under her arm, he bowed his head, the whispers surrounding them doing nothing to stop the slow turn of his good leg, balancing precariously. Would she let him fall?

Decidedly not, as she swept him back up into her arms, pulling him close against the frigid cold. Another circle, his hand coming to gently rest on her hip, the other uselessly resting against her shoulder. Black silk and white velvet came together in a culmination of swirling crystal, his leg shaking with the effort of keeping up with the Fair Lady’s stride.

“He’s gone, I assume. No one would leave a lady such as yourself by choice.” Irnes murmured, the warmth of her hand on his back burrowing so deep into his bones that he could feel it in his chest. Like the heart of the factory, it burned so brightly, tearing the flesh away from his bones and drowning him in an all consuming light. “It must have been difficult, being alone for so long.”

“It is.”

“Then… If you don’t mind it, my lady, I must offer my arm. Allow me to stand in his place, so he knows you are no longer alone. I believe he would’ve wanted you to be happy, or at least to not yearn for his warmth. That is what love does to people, is it not?”

The Fair Lady was silent for a moment, before taking him into another spin.

“I know it sounds awfully selfish of me-”

“No. I… would like that.”

“Ah! Right! Of course, my lady. I will be by your side, always. I swear on it.”

There were Eleven Harbingers. Typically, Pulcinella would abstain from dancing, mostly out of concern for his joints and his size- but this ball was different. As it was in Her Majesty’s honor, he was paired with Sandrone, leaving one Harbinger without a partner. Irnes had expected to watch all evening, back in his spot by the wall, waiting on the alcohol to make its first appearance- that is, until the Fair Lady approached him, her deep scarlet gown sweeping the floor behind her, golden butterflies hanging from her ears. Her crown was embellished with gold this time, the matching lace of the high neck of her dress shining under the overhead light. He felt somewhat underdressed beside her, his cane the most embellished part of him.

“May I have this dance?” Signora offered a gloved hand, the white fur around her shoulders shifting with the movement. It looked quite soft… But that was beside the point. “It would be a shame if one Harbinger were left alone.”

“Of course, my lady. Anything for you.” Irnes barely hid his smile, taking her hand and letting the Fair Lady guide him out onto the main floor, his cane abandoned by the wall. The Fair Lady always took care of him, catching him when he nearly fell and supporting him to a seat afterwards. In return, he would keep her company for the night; few could be in the presence of La Signora without being intimidated or cold.

Positions were taken. It was a slow dance, thank the Tsaritsa, which Pierro slowly led. He could see his creator tightly holding Pantalone against him, Arlecchino and Columbina elegantly swaying in perfect circles.

“Nervous?” La Signora whispered, getting a warm chuckle from Irnes as he leaned on her shoulder.

“Not in the slightest. Merely surprised.”

“And why is that?”

“Out of all the people in the room, you chose me. I meant my offer… But I did not expect this. It is a pleasant surprise, I assure you. However, it’s me. The cripple. Unable to walk for himself.” Irnes sighed, the soft fur of the Fair Lady’s mantle tickling his cheek. “It sounds rather idiotic, I did offer…”

Signora’s lips pursed, her expression dropping. “You are not a ‘cripple’, beau. That is a rather horrible way to refer to you, who dares to call you that?”

“...No one.” The scorn on Signora’s face made him pause. “Well, many people, but rest assured that I don’t care that much.”

“It hurts you. If you don’t care, then I do. ”

“Do you, now?” Irnes chuckled again, this time rather weakly. He could feel the Fair Lady’s skin heating up under his touch, her expression twisted in thinly concealed anger. Like a powder keg about to explode, he could feel veins of fire against his body, raging just beneath the surface. “I-”

He didn’t expect for the Fair Lady to stop, grabbing his face with a grip so tight that he could feel his jaw creak. Her grip on his waist and shoulder was gone, replaced by her furious expression inches from his.

“I do care for you. I do not take promises lightly, Irnes. I refuse to let anyone speak of my love that way, much less make him think that he’s a ‘ cripple’ . You are a brilliant man, an inventor that has gained the favor of one of Her Majesty’s finest. They will not speak of you that way, I won’t allow it!” The last sentence was a shout so loud that the orchestra stalled, the other Harbingers nearly stumbling into the two, watching with both disdain and confusion.

Irnes was speechless, his cheeks aching. No one had ever spoken to him so passionately, had made his body give out in such a way before. The sudden weakness that overcame him was a combination of fear and awe, his face paling. His leg shook, giving out from under him under the sudden lack of support, dragging him to the floor with a gasp of pain. The Fair Lady’s expression of anger was suddenly one of panic, the crowd watching with whispers as he struggled to right himself, only to fall back on his knees with searing pain shooting up his side. Oh… Oh dear. This wasn’t good at all, was it.

“I-I’m alright.” Was all he managed to force out, a pathetic attempt at saving face. “I… I’m fine.”

He was not fine, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.

“What is going on?!”

Thank goodness for Danya bringing him his cane, holding onto his hand tightly and leading him away. He wouldn’t have been able to face her, on the brink of tears over such a simple statement. He shouldn’t be crying over someone standing up for him. Perhaps it was the fear, not for himself, but of the might of a Harbinger’s anger, a conditioned response from his creator’s fits of rage. Cowering was the only way to keep his body in one piece, the Doctor’s meltdowns rarely discriminated between friend and foe.

It was shameful, walking away from the mess he created. Danya didn’t seem to notice the tears of shock that ran down his face, the tension in his frame as he hobbled away, pain searing up his leg.

He would have to rest. Just for a little while.

“I owe you an apology, mein perle.”

“No, no. I shouldn’t have mentioned it.” Irnes said from where he sat in his plush armchair, the window overlooking the swirling storm that surrounded the palace. “I wasn’t-”

“No. I hurt you.” Signora was firm in her claim, watching him with determination. “I… am sorry. I should not have lost my temper, especially not towards you.”

Irnes was silent, watching the snow fall with a passive expression. “I know you’re sorry. My poor face was bruised for some time. I did sully your reputation with how I reacted… and I apologize for that, but you also hurt me. That is not easily forgiven or forgotten, for that matter.” He hated the guilt that hung in the air between them, constricting his throat dangerously. “But… I believe I can forgive you with time, under one condition.”

“And what is that?” Signora’s posture rose slightly, defensive. “If it’s not punishing those impudent creatures, I can’t accept it.”

“No, no. You are free to punish them as you see fit. Just… do not kill them. That is all I ask, no matter how cruel they may have been. And give me some time. Please.”

“Fine. Thank you, mein perle.”

A dance, hidden by silken curtains. No longer in the public eye, slow music blaring from the record player in the corner of the room.

A mask, discarded on a nearby table.

The comfort of the Fair Lady’s fur mantle under his cheek, warm and soft as a dim light filled the room, illuminating two figures intertwined in a slow dance, his body supported by careful hands.

“I must leave soon.”

“I know, my lady. Will you be alright, seeing what remains of him again?”

“...Yes. I will be.”

Irnes smiled, closing his eyes with a pleased hum. “Good. But if you do require it… I will go with you. You only have to say the words.”

“No. You will stay here, where you’re safe.” Signora replied firmly, her grip tightening on his lower back. “I refuse to lose you too.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Why do you sit here, watching the sea? It’s a waste of time, you’re better off moping inside.”

Alyosha walked up behind him, his cocky tone in full force as per usual. The younger segment was something, with an ego the size of a whale and the strut of a peacock. Always harsh with his words, quick to snap.

Irnes missed his youth, where he would’ve snapped back.

“I’m waiting, Alyosha.”

“Waiting for what?”

“My lady to return home.”

“Ew. Sounds mushy.” Alyosha’s nose wrinkled up at the thought, drawing a chuckle out of Irnes. Ah, the younger segments were always so much fun to rile up and tease.

“Perhaps it is. But I do not break my promises, you know this.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I’m going back inside, stay out here like a lunatic if you want.”

A lunatic, hm? Irnes hadn’t been called that in a long time.

“Alright, Alyosha. I’ll see you later, hm?”

“Sure, fine! Bye!”

With that, the segment ran off, leaving Irnes alone with his thoughts, the sea washing softly over the rocks underfoot.

“My lady…”

Another wave, nearly soaking his boots.

“...Please return to me soon.”