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Entry tags:
The Dancer's Daughter
Title: The Dancer's Daughter
Author:![[profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
eskimo
Character/Pairings: Spain/Philippines (OC)
Rating: G
Summary: On a visit to the Philippines, Spain shares a secret.
She could tell he was tired when he stepped off the ship.
There was something about the way he rubbed the back of his neck and turned his head to see who gathered to meet him with heavy eyes. His uniform was clean but had a disheveled look to them; wrinkled as if they had been packed at the bottom of a trunk for many months. As he stepped off, he seemed aware of his appearances and as the people gathered around him, he busied his hands, running them over creases in his coat, tugging at his sleeves, and adjusting the sash from his shoulder.
His steps sounded different from the others. They were heavier, louder, slower. The others were light, clumsy, and busy as they tripped over one another to get close to him. He had a casual but confident walk, as if he was heading somewhere but in no particular rush to get there.
As he approached, she tried to back away only to be pushed back by the governor. Why? She wondered. The governor and the other officials wanted to see him more than her so why not let them see him first?
The footsteps stopped. The Spanish chattered continued. It was quick, rapid, and she wondered if their tongues were made from freshly cut wood. She could only make out a few words.
Girl. . . Trouble. . . What did that word mean? Ah, they said something about studying and listening. No. No. No. No. No. No. What were they saying? She is not. . . She is not listening. She is not studying. She is not behaving. She is not she is not she is not.
She was in trouble.
What are we going to do with her?
He nodded his head along to their complaints, making eye contact with each official, even those who spoke out of turn. He did not say a word, letting the people do all of the talking for now. His green eyes met up with their eyes, he licked his lips to prepare to speak, but each time, he was cut off. There was so much to say and they insisted on doing it all.
He could not speak.
How frustrating.
So he acted.
He knelt down to be at her height.
She stood tall and held her breath. He was going to snap at her. He was going to snap at her just like all of the other men. He would yell at her in his quick, foreign tongue and become angry at her for not being able to catch up with him. He would order her to talk back and she would stumble over her words and he would hit her. But… he did none of those things.
“Buenas dias, Filipinas.” He greeted with a warm smile that brought life back to his tired features.
The governor gave her a push towards him. She stumbled back in her western shoes and caught a flicker of concern in his eyes. “Buenas dias, España.” She greeted awkwardly in return.
His smile never left his face. “¿Como estas?” He asked and she bit her lower lip, trying to stand even taller. She liked it when he spoke to her. He had a way of speaking slowly and kindly without sounding as though he was talking down to her. When he spoke, he did not simply teach her, he spoke to her.
She pressed her lips together to start a reply but quickly caught herself. She mustn’t get her sounds mixed up or the governor would scold her after. She must answer correctly. “Bien.” She replied and he gave a content smile and rose. She could imagine his body creaking as he stood up. Her eyes followed him but he placed a hand to the top her her head, messing her hair, and pushing her head down gently.
Spain and the stuffy men exchanged words for a moment before he moved to take her hand and asked, “Would you like to go for a walk?”
Before she could answer, he was already guiding her away. Behind them, she could hear the men calling out to him. They did not sound happy. He did not seem to care.
They walked down a familiar road and in the back of her mind she hoped it wouldn’t be the church. She was tired of going there. She noted curiously how they walked by the church and made a turn down another road and than another. She was beginning to suspect he was walking blindly in an unfamiliar place. Walking in these shoes hurt her feet and these layered clothes made her uncomfortably warm. She constantly looked up at the taller nation. When would he find his destination and stop walking already? Minutes passed and they passed another church. She squeezed his hand and he looked down.
“España,” She whispered nervously, “Could we please stop walking?” He appeared confused and she added quietly, “My feet hurt.”
“Ah, I’m sorry,” He apologized softly, guiding her to the closest resting place—a fountain. He set her down on the stone side and knelt down on one knee. Raising her dress slightly at the knee, he began to take off her dark red and golden shoes. “Is that better?” He asked and she nodded, stretching her toes.
Holding the shoe up to eye level, he studied the stiff shoe, “These don’t look comfortable at all,” He noted.
“They aren’t.” She replied smartly.
“No wonder the ladies at court are the first to stop dancing,” He thought out loud and she looked up.
“Do you dance?”
“Yes, I love to dance,” He answered, setting the shoes down neatly on the ground before sitting down heavily beside her.
“What sort of dances?”
“All sorts of dances. At the balls, the slower and more formal dances are practiced but,” His eyes stared off into the distance as he remembered something and he shook his head, “They tell me you have been skipping your lessons.” He announced and she looked away.
“And not just the ones with your professors but the ones with the Father as well.”
“I don’t like them,” She confessed, “The teachers talk down to me and the fathers tell me I will burn. They all tell me horrible stories and are never happy with what I do. They speak too fast for me, they dress me in uncomfortable dresses, and make me wait to eat while they pray. Why can’t I speak what I want, wear what I want, and eat my food before it goes cold? They don’t even let me dance the way I want to anymore. Now whenever I dance, I have to wait to be asked and have a partner—I have to follow my partner and the boy they make me practice with has two left feet. They don’t let me play in the jungles or climb on the trees or play with my friends…”
He leaned forward, resting his elbow on his knee and chin on his hand. He closed his eyes for a long time and she wondered if he had fallen asleep. He finally opened them, looking into her eyes, “Are you unhappy?”
“I am miserable.”
She couldn’t answer. How did she feel? This morning, she woke up early in the morning to attend another service. It lasted for what felt like hours and afterward, they ate breakfast. The breakfast was good but once again, they made her wait before eating for prayer, and by the time she figured out which fork or spoon to use, her food had gone cold again. They called her words in their native tongue behind her back. She skipped the Bible study to play in the jungle and when the priests found her, they scolded her. They spend hours dressing her up and fixing her hair and all of it felt wasted because she was not at all comfortable. She waited at the dock in the hot sun for his ship to pull in and—…
She looked at the older nation.
And then he came off the ship, tired and messy. He had traveled by their fastest, available ship, but it still took him months to arrive. She had heard from others that the journey to the Philippines from his native home of Spain was a long and dangerous one. He was fighting two wars and a nation called England was constantly terrorizing him. The last time her father nation had pulled into the Philippines, eleven of his men had died and others had been sick or injured. The ship had splinters and holes in it and when Spain came off the ship, his clothes were cut and his head was bandaged. She had heard from others that travelling to the Philippines was more trouble than it was worth but still…
He came. Regardless of the trouble, he came and regardless of how tired he was, he would always smile at her before attending to his duties. When he was here, he would take her away from her tutors and they would go on walks. He would talk to her and tell her stories and he would listen to her problems. They would get lost in the city all the time. He always made her attend her bible studies though.
“No,” She replied finally, “I like it when you visit me.”
He smiled. She was happy.
“I want for you to attend your lessons,” He insisted and she frowned. She knew he would say that.
“I don’t like the teachers.”
“Neither do I.” He confessed. It was true, many of the officials in the Philippines had been sent here because they were an annoyance in the Spanish court.
“They always threaten to send horrible letters to you.”
“Yes, I’ve received a few.” He replied, “But I stopped reading those some time ago.”
She looked up at him. He continued to smile in a way that reminded her of the sun.
“Ah, what if I told you… that when others are not looking, I often do things I am not allowed to do?” He asked.
“I do not understand.”
“Sometimes the king gives me papers to read and sign but I often sleep instead. Sometimes he catches me but other times, I am able to sleep for as long as I wish.”
It made sense to her. What others did not know, could not hurt them, right? “Does this mean I don’t have to wear these dresses any more?” She asked hopefully. It was so hard to climb in trees wearing these things.
“Why would you not?” he frowned, “You look so beautiful in them.”
She told herself she would wear these dresses a little bit longer.
“I want for you to attend your lessons, Filipinas,” Spain repeated, “But do you want to know a secret?”
“Yes!” She replied excitedly and he picked her up, raising her high in the air and spinning her around. It took her a moment but it wasn’t long until she realized he was dancing. It was a strange dance, unlike any she had learned in her classes. This one was fast and carefree as he moved his hips and spun in quick circles. Slowing down, he whispered into her ear, “My favorite dances are the ones I am not allowed to do in court.”
Author:
eskimo Character/Pairings: Spain/Philippines (OC)
Rating: G
Summary: On a visit to the Philippines, Spain shares a secret.
She could tell he was tired when he stepped off the ship.
There was something about the way he rubbed the back of his neck and turned his head to see who gathered to meet him with heavy eyes. His uniform was clean but had a disheveled look to them; wrinkled as if they had been packed at the bottom of a trunk for many months. As he stepped off, he seemed aware of his appearances and as the people gathered around him, he busied his hands, running them over creases in his coat, tugging at his sleeves, and adjusting the sash from his shoulder.
His steps sounded different from the others. They were heavier, louder, slower. The others were light, clumsy, and busy as they tripped over one another to get close to him. He had a casual but confident walk, as if he was heading somewhere but in no particular rush to get there.
As he approached, she tried to back away only to be pushed back by the governor. Why? She wondered. The governor and the other officials wanted to see him more than her so why not let them see him first?
The footsteps stopped. The Spanish chattered continued. It was quick, rapid, and she wondered if their tongues were made from freshly cut wood. She could only make out a few words.
Girl. . . Trouble. . . What did that word mean? Ah, they said something about studying and listening. No. No. No. No. No. No. What were they saying? She is not. . . She is not listening. She is not studying. She is not behaving. She is not she is not she is not.
She was in trouble.
What are we going to do with her?
He nodded his head along to their complaints, making eye contact with each official, even those who spoke out of turn. He did not say a word, letting the people do all of the talking for now. His green eyes met up with their eyes, he licked his lips to prepare to speak, but each time, he was cut off. There was so much to say and they insisted on doing it all.
He could not speak.
How frustrating.
So he acted.
He knelt down to be at her height.
She stood tall and held her breath. He was going to snap at her. He was going to snap at her just like all of the other men. He would yell at her in his quick, foreign tongue and become angry at her for not being able to catch up with him. He would order her to talk back and she would stumble over her words and he would hit her. But… he did none of those things.
“Buenas dias, Filipinas.” He greeted with a warm smile that brought life back to his tired features.
The governor gave her a push towards him. She stumbled back in her western shoes and caught a flicker of concern in his eyes. “Buenas dias, España.” She greeted awkwardly in return.
His smile never left his face. “¿Como estas?” He asked and she bit her lower lip, trying to stand even taller. She liked it when he spoke to her. He had a way of speaking slowly and kindly without sounding as though he was talking down to her. When he spoke, he did not simply teach her, he spoke to her.
She pressed her lips together to start a reply but quickly caught herself. She mustn’t get her sounds mixed up or the governor would scold her after. She must answer correctly. “Bien.” She replied and he gave a content smile and rose. She could imagine his body creaking as he stood up. Her eyes followed him but he placed a hand to the top her her head, messing her hair, and pushing her head down gently.
Spain and the stuffy men exchanged words for a moment before he moved to take her hand and asked, “Would you like to go for a walk?”
Before she could answer, he was already guiding her away. Behind them, she could hear the men calling out to him. They did not sound happy. He did not seem to care.
They walked down a familiar road and in the back of her mind she hoped it wouldn’t be the church. She was tired of going there. She noted curiously how they walked by the church and made a turn down another road and than another. She was beginning to suspect he was walking blindly in an unfamiliar place. Walking in these shoes hurt her feet and these layered clothes made her uncomfortably warm. She constantly looked up at the taller nation. When would he find his destination and stop walking already? Minutes passed and they passed another church. She squeezed his hand and he looked down.
“España,” She whispered nervously, “Could we please stop walking?” He appeared confused and she added quietly, “My feet hurt.”
“Ah, I’m sorry,” He apologized softly, guiding her to the closest resting place—a fountain. He set her down on the stone side and knelt down on one knee. Raising her dress slightly at the knee, he began to take off her dark red and golden shoes. “Is that better?” He asked and she nodded, stretching her toes.
Holding the shoe up to eye level, he studied the stiff shoe, “These don’t look comfortable at all,” He noted.
“They aren’t.” She replied smartly.
“No wonder the ladies at court are the first to stop dancing,” He thought out loud and she looked up.
“Do you dance?”
“Yes, I love to dance,” He answered, setting the shoes down neatly on the ground before sitting down heavily beside her.
“What sort of dances?”
“All sorts of dances. At the balls, the slower and more formal dances are practiced but,” His eyes stared off into the distance as he remembered something and he shook his head, “They tell me you have been skipping your lessons.” He announced and she looked away.
“And not just the ones with your professors but the ones with the Father as well.”
“I don’t like them,” She confessed, “The teachers talk down to me and the fathers tell me I will burn. They all tell me horrible stories and are never happy with what I do. They speak too fast for me, they dress me in uncomfortable dresses, and make me wait to eat while they pray. Why can’t I speak what I want, wear what I want, and eat my food before it goes cold? They don’t even let me dance the way I want to anymore. Now whenever I dance, I have to wait to be asked and have a partner—I have to follow my partner and the boy they make me practice with has two left feet. They don’t let me play in the jungles or climb on the trees or play with my friends…”
He leaned forward, resting his elbow on his knee and chin on his hand. He closed his eyes for a long time and she wondered if he had fallen asleep. He finally opened them, looking into her eyes, “Are you unhappy?”
“I am miserable.”
She couldn’t answer. How did she feel? This morning, she woke up early in the morning to attend another service. It lasted for what felt like hours and afterward, they ate breakfast. The breakfast was good but once again, they made her wait before eating for prayer, and by the time she figured out which fork or spoon to use, her food had gone cold again. They called her words in their native tongue behind her back. She skipped the Bible study to play in the jungle and when the priests found her, they scolded her. They spend hours dressing her up and fixing her hair and all of it felt wasted because she was not at all comfortable. She waited at the dock in the hot sun for his ship to pull in and—…
She looked at the older nation.
And then he came off the ship, tired and messy. He had traveled by their fastest, available ship, but it still took him months to arrive. She had heard from others that the journey to the Philippines from his native home of Spain was a long and dangerous one. He was fighting two wars and a nation called England was constantly terrorizing him. The last time her father nation had pulled into the Philippines, eleven of his men had died and others had been sick or injured. The ship had splinters and holes in it and when Spain came off the ship, his clothes were cut and his head was bandaged. She had heard from others that travelling to the Philippines was more trouble than it was worth but still…
He came. Regardless of the trouble, he came and regardless of how tired he was, he would always smile at her before attending to his duties. When he was here, he would take her away from her tutors and they would go on walks. He would talk to her and tell her stories and he would listen to her problems. They would get lost in the city all the time. He always made her attend her bible studies though.
“No,” She replied finally, “I like it when you visit me.”
He smiled. She was happy.
“I want for you to attend your lessons,” He insisted and she frowned. She knew he would say that.
“I don’t like the teachers.”
“Neither do I.” He confessed. It was true, many of the officials in the Philippines had been sent here because they were an annoyance in the Spanish court.
“They always threaten to send horrible letters to you.”
“Yes, I’ve received a few.” He replied, “But I stopped reading those some time ago.”
She looked up at him. He continued to smile in a way that reminded her of the sun.
“Ah, what if I told you… that when others are not looking, I often do things I am not allowed to do?” He asked.
“I do not understand.”
“Sometimes the king gives me papers to read and sign but I often sleep instead. Sometimes he catches me but other times, I am able to sleep for as long as I wish.”
It made sense to her. What others did not know, could not hurt them, right? “Does this mean I don’t have to wear these dresses any more?” She asked hopefully. It was so hard to climb in trees wearing these things.
“Why would you not?” he frowned, “You look so beautiful in them.”
She told herself she would wear these dresses a little bit longer.
“I want for you to attend your lessons, Filipinas,” Spain repeated, “But do you want to know a secret?”
“Yes!” She replied excitedly and he picked her up, raising her high in the air and spinning her around. It took her a moment but it wasn’t long until she realized he was dancing. It was a strange dance, unlike any she had learned in her classes. This one was fast and carefree as he moved his hips and spun in quick circles. Slowing down, he whispered into her ear, “My favorite dances are the ones I am not allowed to do in court.”