Fic: Party Time; Poland/Lithuania; G
Title: Party Time
Author: daegaer
Pairing: Poland/Lithuania
Rating: G
Warning: none needed
Word Count: 2343
Summary: Lithuania has an unfortunate date for America's New Year's Eve party.
Notes: Written for the Lithuania/Poland Secret Santa Exchange for the prompt: I'd really like to see Poland take Lithuania back from Russia.
Thank you to puddingcat for beta-reading!
Historical notes at the end.
America always threw a really extravagant New Year's party, and this year he was going to outdo himself, or so the invitation said. Lithuania tapped the heavy, gold-embossed card ruminatively on his table, wondering if it was really appropriate to go to a big party in the current economic climate. Everyone kept talking about the need to tighten belts and cut back on unnecessary spending, so perhaps he shouldn't be considering this at all. He should put aside the money he'd spend buying a present for America for a rainy day, he thought. That would be sensible. It was important to be sensible. With that thought firmly in mind he put just enough water in his kettle for one cup so he wouldn't waste energy, and then added lemon juice and honey to the boiled water. His economy was still struggling, and he had a horribly sore throat. When the phone rang he thought for a moment of not answering, just to spare his fading voice.
"Hello?" he croaked.
"Liet, I think I'm dying," Poland wheezed without even saying hello. "My throat's, like, killing me!" He sneezed dramatically and loudly into the phone, making Lithuania wince.
"Put lemon and honey in your tea, and take a couple of paracetamol," Lithuania said. "Everyone's got it, Poland, and we'll get better sooner or later."
"It feels like - achoo! - it's totally later. I'm bored, Liet. I'm sick and I'm snowed in and I'm bored. Did America invite you to his party?"
"Yes," Lithuania said. "It seems like it would be a very frivolous thing to do right now."
"Oh, he's feeling a lot better," Poland said. "You should totally go. I'm too near death's door, but you should go - just have fun and remember me in better days. I want a Latin Mass at my funeral, and a hearse drawn by six horses, all painted purple."
"Don't plan your own funeral, that's morbid," Lithuania said. "I'll go to the party if you will."
"I'm too weak," Poland said pathetically. "And snowed in. I can't get to the shops - can you airdrop me some snack food?"
Lithuania rolled his eyes. What he was supposed to say was I'll come right over, he knew, and he'd prove his devotion by missing America's party and keeping Poland company in his misery. All of a sudden he'd had enough of misery, and wanted some bright lights and music and America's undeniably wide selection of party food.
"Keep warm, have plenty of hot drinks and you'll feel better," he said, wiping his nose. "I think I will go to the party - I'll bring you back some of the food, OK?"
There was a silence at the other end of the line, then, "Oh. Sure. Thanks, Liet. Have fun. I'll look forward to your call. Bye-bye." Poland's voice died away, sad and small.
Lithuania rolled his eyes again, and blew his nose. Now all he had to do was figure out an economical way of getting there and back.
He was half-way through another hot drink when the phone rang again. Oh, Poland, he thought fondly. Your throat would feel better if you stopped talking so much -
"Hello?"
"Hello? Lithuania? You are feeling better? Me, I am feeling very well."
Lithuania looked in horror at the international dialing code displayed on his phone, a simple seven, and wished he could pretend he didn't recognize the voice.
"I am ringing about America's party this evening, you have been invited too? If not, it does not matter, we can bring a guest! What time will I pick you up?"
"Russia - " Lithuania started.
"Don't forget to brush your hair," Russia said jovially. "Sometimes you forget to brush your hair, it looks very silly!"
"Russia, I'm too sick to go," Lithuania said quickly. He'd stay at home and watch TV, he thought. That would be preferable.
"No," Russia said. "You will go." He dropped his voice. "You would not have me be all alone in the back seat of a taxi with my sister, would you? Are you so cruel?"
"Why don't you drive?" Lithuania said desperately.
"Now you want me to have not even a taxi driver for protection? I will drive, certainly. But I will get very, very drunk first, and I will drive across your garden. I will apologise for this now, yes?"
"Seven-thirty," Lithuania said through gritted teeth. "I'll be ready at seven-thirty."
"Excellent! I will be on time! We have so much to catch up on, Lithuania, so many old times to discuss! I will bring you something to drink in the car and also some -"
"I'm really sorry, I'm about to have a fit of sneezing," Lithuania lied, and hung up. "Argh!" he said. Why could he never say no when Russia leant on him? He buried his face in his hands, telling himself he hadn't really heard Russia say he was bringing condoms as well as vodka for the evening.
* * *
The journey could have been worse, Lithuania thought. At least the taxi driver had been there as a chaperone. As had he - sitting squashed in between Russia and Belarus had been awkward in more ways than one, with Belarus glaring at him and Russia taking desperate swigs from a bottle of vodka every time it looked like she would just climb over Lithuania to his side of the car. After the first half an hour Russia clambered across Lithuania, shoved Belarus back hard, and somehow got into the front seat, making everyone else gasp as his foot knocked the gear stick out of the driver's hand. The journey thereafter was a little more sedate, Russia occasionally turning round to push Belarus back. They all arrived looking a little rumpled. Belarus also looked grumpy, Russia looked his usual cheerful and slightly flushed self, while Lithuania was quite sure he looked harassed and worried. It was a relief to be welcomed by America and drawn into a hug.
"Happy New Year," America said. "Why did you come with them?" He nodded to where Russia was subtly dodging Belarus by pretending to admire the décor as he wandered through the crowd or at least, as subtly as someone that big who had drunk that much vodka very fast could. It looked like a particularly odd game of tag.
"We shared a taxi," Lithuania said weakly, and watched America rush away to throw his arms around Spain with a loud and oddly-accented "¡Hola!"
"Hi," Spain said lazily in English. "Is Romano here yet?"
Lithuania wandered away, sampling snacks from the buffet and smiling vaguely at people. He didn't know if he was relieved or worried to see people wipe their streaming eyes or turn aside to blow their noses. On the one hand it was good to see he wasn't an anomaly and that other people were feeling bad too. On the other, it didn't seem terribly hygienic, having everyone together to sneeze and spread germs and recession further.
"You are not drinking enough!" Russia said beside him, handing him a glass of champagne. "Come, Lithuania, down in one, this is a party!" Lithuania coughed as Russia helpfully tipped the glass up and he had to drink or be drenched. "Good!" Russia said, grabbing another two glasses from a waiter. "Here is your next one."
Lithuania obediently drank, and hiccoughed gently. Russia laughed and steered him away to where the music was playing. Not many people were dancing yet, and the music was muted and low-key. Russia pulled him close and swayed slowly around, although, Lithuania thought, that might have been the champagne mixing with the vodka.
"This is nice," Russia said, resting his chin on Lithuania's head. "Are you getting shorter? You would do better with me than with the EU, yes?"
It was, Lithuania thought, safer to stay quiet and not to fidget too much at the enforced proximity to Russia, even though he wanted nothing so much as simply to run. Halfway through the next song, Russia made a displeased noise.
"We are about to be interrupted. Hello, Belarus! Are you enjoying yourself?" Without waiting for an answer he stepped back and spun Lithuania round so fast he felt dizzy. "I must talk to -" Russia looked round and fixed his gaze on a group heading for the terrace to smoke. " - to Paraguay. Urgently. Look after my sister, Lithuania. Bela - be nice." He shoved Lithuania at her, and fled.
"Would you like to dance?" Lithuania said.
"Would you like every bone in your body broken?" she said, and stepped round him.
It was probably a good idea to give Russia a head start. He was, after all, providing the transport home. Lithuania took a deep breath and put a hand on her arm. "Perhaps I could get you a drink?"
"Perhaps," Belarus said, flat and dangerous, "you thought I was joking about breaking you." She plucked up his hand and bent one of the fingers back meaningfully.
Lithuania stepped away from her quickly. Russia was nowhere in sight, and that would probably be enough that Lithuania wouldn't incur his displeasure. He watched Belarus vanish in the crowd and drew a relieved breath.
* * *
The rest of the evening followed the same pattern. Russia would appear and ply him with food and drink, and dance with him as long as he could. Then Lithuania would be left to fend off Belarus as Russia hightailed it off to less obsessive company. Nine glasses of champagne in, Lithuania found he was losing the ability to be tactful.
"He's your brother," he said, pleased to find the alcohol seemed to have taken the rasp from his voice.
"So?" Belarus said.
"So, it's a bit odd to be in love with your brother, isn't it? I mean - " he looked around. "England's not in love with his brothers, are you, England?"
England looked at him with a rabbit-caught-in-headlights-look. "Not as such, no," he said.
Belarus gave them both a disgusted look and stalked away. She was barely out of the room before Russia crept out from behind some floor-length curtains and twirled Lithuania back onto the dance floor.
"You are very good at getting rid of her," he said. "It will be midnight very soon, perhaps we can finally have a longer period of time to ourselves, yes?" He tipped Lithuania's face up and kissed him.
Crap, Lithuania thought, wondering how much of a diplomatic incident it would cause if he shrieked like an outraged nun.
"Oh. My. God," a familiar voice said. "So this is what you do when I'm, like, on my death bed."
"Ack," Lithuania said, as Russia's grasp tightened. "Poland? It's not what it looks like -"
Poland stood there, tapping his foot as other dancers round them slowed and looked on with some glee. Lithuania wasn't sure he'd ever seen someone wearing as many sequins on a dress before. It was hard to look at Poland when he moved, light flashing as it reflected from hundreds upon hundreds of tiny discs. "I dunno, Liet," he said. "Seems to me it's totally what it looks like. I'm languishing with the worst cold anyone has ever had, and Russia's taking advantage of that to make a move on you."
"Oh," Lithuania said in relief. "In that case, it's exactly what it looks like."
"Go home, Poland, you are very sick," Russia said with false concern. "I will take care of Lithuania. We are having fun, and will have more fun later. I am looking forward to kissing you properly at midnight, Lithuania."
"Tsk," Poland said, and blew his nose. "You probably think I'm going to cause a scene, and make poor Liet so embarrassed he'll go off with you just to get out of the limelight. Don't worry, Liet. Not gonna happen. Russia's going to leave gracefully."
Russia smiled beatifically. "No."
Poland shrugged and half-turned, setting two fingers to his lips. He whistled piercingly, cutting through the music. "Belarus!" he called. "I found him for you!"
Russia's face fell as Belarus appeared as if summoned by a particularly effective malevolent spell, her eyes alight with the thrill of the hunt. He let go of Lithuania and stepped back, trying to hide behind him.
"I guess you're right. Instead of leaving gracefully, you'll be running and leaving everyone speculating on what you and your sister get up to on those cold Siberian nights," Poland said victoriously, though he spoiled the moment somewhat by sneezing. Russia gave him a venomous look and sped off, Belarus in close pursuit.
"Hi," Poland said cheerfully to Lithuania. "Can I have this dance?"
"You said you were too sick and too snowed in to come," Lithuania said, holding out his arms for Poland to skip into.
"Eeh, I figured you'd totally need someone to look out for you, and I was right. Besides, it was boring at home so I, like, borrowed a snowplough - hi," he finished as Argentina leaned in, eyes wide with curiosity.
"Hi," Argentina said, " - who was that girl?"
"Russia's sister," Poland said, and made an elaborate and highly obscene gesture. "They're like that."
Argentina's eyes widened even more. "His own sister?"
"Trufax," Poland said solemnly, and pulled Lithuania away, leaving Argentina to spread the gossip to the other South American nations behind them.
"The countdown's about to begin!" America yelled. "Everyone get a drink to toast the New Year!"
Lithuania grabbed drinks for both of them as America started counting down. "Thanks for coming to save me," he said.
"Thanks for wanting to be saved," Poland said and raised his glass, grinning.
"Three-Two-One - Happy New Year!" America yelled, dancing round and kissing England before he could resist.
"Happy New Year," Lithuania said, and caught Poland up in his arms, kissing him.
"Much better than champagne," Poland said. "Happy New Year, Liet." He tightened his arms and kissed Lithuania while everyone around hugged, sang and kissed.
Much better indeed, Lithuania thought. Much better indeed.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Notes: Poland's funeral plans - in the 16th century, the Polish nobility's romantic ideology of Sarmatianism found special expression when it came to horses.
Saddles and bridles were embroidered with gold thread and sewn with sequins or semi-precious stones. It was common for a nobleman who had a number of fine horses and several caparisons to have them all harnessed and led along behind him by pages, rather than leave them at home where no one would be able to admire them. The Poles were close to their horses, which were symbols of their warrior status. They were tacked in fine harness, covered in rich cloths, adorned with plumes and even wings, and, on high days and holidays, dyed (usually cochineal, but black, mauve or green were favoured for funerals).
- Adam Zamoyski, Poland: A History, p. 95.
Poland and his ponies have always been fabulous.
Author: daegaer
Pairing: Poland/Lithuania
Rating: G
Warning: none needed
Word Count: 2343
Summary: Lithuania has an unfortunate date for America's New Year's Eve party.
Notes: Written for the Lithuania/Poland Secret Santa Exchange for the prompt: I'd really like to see Poland take Lithuania back from Russia.
Thank you to puddingcat for beta-reading!
Historical notes at the end.
America always threw a really extravagant New Year's party, and this year he was going to outdo himself, or so the invitation said. Lithuania tapped the heavy, gold-embossed card ruminatively on his table, wondering if it was really appropriate to go to a big party in the current economic climate. Everyone kept talking about the need to tighten belts and cut back on unnecessary spending, so perhaps he shouldn't be considering this at all. He should put aside the money he'd spend buying a present for America for a rainy day, he thought. That would be sensible. It was important to be sensible. With that thought firmly in mind he put just enough water in his kettle for one cup so he wouldn't waste energy, and then added lemon juice and honey to the boiled water. His economy was still struggling, and he had a horribly sore throat. When the phone rang he thought for a moment of not answering, just to spare his fading voice.
"Hello?" he croaked.
"Liet, I think I'm dying," Poland wheezed without even saying hello. "My throat's, like, killing me!" He sneezed dramatically and loudly into the phone, making Lithuania wince.
"Put lemon and honey in your tea, and take a couple of paracetamol," Lithuania said. "Everyone's got it, Poland, and we'll get better sooner or later."
"It feels like - achoo! - it's totally later. I'm bored, Liet. I'm sick and I'm snowed in and I'm bored. Did America invite you to his party?"
"Yes," Lithuania said. "It seems like it would be a very frivolous thing to do right now."
"Oh, he's feeling a lot better," Poland said. "You should totally go. I'm too near death's door, but you should go - just have fun and remember me in better days. I want a Latin Mass at my funeral, and a hearse drawn by six horses, all painted purple."
"Don't plan your own funeral, that's morbid," Lithuania said. "I'll go to the party if you will."
"I'm too weak," Poland said pathetically. "And snowed in. I can't get to the shops - can you airdrop me some snack food?"
Lithuania rolled his eyes. What he was supposed to say was I'll come right over, he knew, and he'd prove his devotion by missing America's party and keeping Poland company in his misery. All of a sudden he'd had enough of misery, and wanted some bright lights and music and America's undeniably wide selection of party food.
"Keep warm, have plenty of hot drinks and you'll feel better," he said, wiping his nose. "I think I will go to the party - I'll bring you back some of the food, OK?"
There was a silence at the other end of the line, then, "Oh. Sure. Thanks, Liet. Have fun. I'll look forward to your call. Bye-bye." Poland's voice died away, sad and small.
Lithuania rolled his eyes again, and blew his nose. Now all he had to do was figure out an economical way of getting there and back.
He was half-way through another hot drink when the phone rang again. Oh, Poland, he thought fondly. Your throat would feel better if you stopped talking so much -
"Hello?"
"Hello? Lithuania? You are feeling better? Me, I am feeling very well."
Lithuania looked in horror at the international dialing code displayed on his phone, a simple seven, and wished he could pretend he didn't recognize the voice.
"I am ringing about America's party this evening, you have been invited too? If not, it does not matter, we can bring a guest! What time will I pick you up?"
"Russia - " Lithuania started.
"Don't forget to brush your hair," Russia said jovially. "Sometimes you forget to brush your hair, it looks very silly!"
"Russia, I'm too sick to go," Lithuania said quickly. He'd stay at home and watch TV, he thought. That would be preferable.
"No," Russia said. "You will go." He dropped his voice. "You would not have me be all alone in the back seat of a taxi with my sister, would you? Are you so cruel?"
"Why don't you drive?" Lithuania said desperately.
"Now you want me to have not even a taxi driver for protection? I will drive, certainly. But I will get very, very drunk first, and I will drive across your garden. I will apologise for this now, yes?"
"Seven-thirty," Lithuania said through gritted teeth. "I'll be ready at seven-thirty."
"Excellent! I will be on time! We have so much to catch up on, Lithuania, so many old times to discuss! I will bring you something to drink in the car and also some -"
"I'm really sorry, I'm about to have a fit of sneezing," Lithuania lied, and hung up. "Argh!" he said. Why could he never say no when Russia leant on him? He buried his face in his hands, telling himself he hadn't really heard Russia say he was bringing condoms as well as vodka for the evening.
* * *
The journey could have been worse, Lithuania thought. At least the taxi driver had been there as a chaperone. As had he - sitting squashed in between Russia and Belarus had been awkward in more ways than one, with Belarus glaring at him and Russia taking desperate swigs from a bottle of vodka every time it looked like she would just climb over Lithuania to his side of the car. After the first half an hour Russia clambered across Lithuania, shoved Belarus back hard, and somehow got into the front seat, making everyone else gasp as his foot knocked the gear stick out of the driver's hand. The journey thereafter was a little more sedate, Russia occasionally turning round to push Belarus back. They all arrived looking a little rumpled. Belarus also looked grumpy, Russia looked his usual cheerful and slightly flushed self, while Lithuania was quite sure he looked harassed and worried. It was a relief to be welcomed by America and drawn into a hug.
"Happy New Year," America said. "Why did you come with them?" He nodded to where Russia was subtly dodging Belarus by pretending to admire the décor as he wandered through the crowd or at least, as subtly as someone that big who had drunk that much vodka very fast could. It looked like a particularly odd game of tag.
"We shared a taxi," Lithuania said weakly, and watched America rush away to throw his arms around Spain with a loud and oddly-accented "¡Hola!"
"Hi," Spain said lazily in English. "Is Romano here yet?"
Lithuania wandered away, sampling snacks from the buffet and smiling vaguely at people. He didn't know if he was relieved or worried to see people wipe their streaming eyes or turn aside to blow their noses. On the one hand it was good to see he wasn't an anomaly and that other people were feeling bad too. On the other, it didn't seem terribly hygienic, having everyone together to sneeze and spread germs and recession further.
"You are not drinking enough!" Russia said beside him, handing him a glass of champagne. "Come, Lithuania, down in one, this is a party!" Lithuania coughed as Russia helpfully tipped the glass up and he had to drink or be drenched. "Good!" Russia said, grabbing another two glasses from a waiter. "Here is your next one."
Lithuania obediently drank, and hiccoughed gently. Russia laughed and steered him away to where the music was playing. Not many people were dancing yet, and the music was muted and low-key. Russia pulled him close and swayed slowly around, although, Lithuania thought, that might have been the champagne mixing with the vodka.
"This is nice," Russia said, resting his chin on Lithuania's head. "Are you getting shorter? You would do better with me than with the EU, yes?"
It was, Lithuania thought, safer to stay quiet and not to fidget too much at the enforced proximity to Russia, even though he wanted nothing so much as simply to run. Halfway through the next song, Russia made a displeased noise.
"We are about to be interrupted. Hello, Belarus! Are you enjoying yourself?" Without waiting for an answer he stepped back and spun Lithuania round so fast he felt dizzy. "I must talk to -" Russia looked round and fixed his gaze on a group heading for the terrace to smoke. " - to Paraguay. Urgently. Look after my sister, Lithuania. Bela - be nice." He shoved Lithuania at her, and fled.
"Would you like to dance?" Lithuania said.
"Would you like every bone in your body broken?" she said, and stepped round him.
It was probably a good idea to give Russia a head start. He was, after all, providing the transport home. Lithuania took a deep breath and put a hand on her arm. "Perhaps I could get you a drink?"
"Perhaps," Belarus said, flat and dangerous, "you thought I was joking about breaking you." She plucked up his hand and bent one of the fingers back meaningfully.
Lithuania stepped away from her quickly. Russia was nowhere in sight, and that would probably be enough that Lithuania wouldn't incur his displeasure. He watched Belarus vanish in the crowd and drew a relieved breath.
* * *
The rest of the evening followed the same pattern. Russia would appear and ply him with food and drink, and dance with him as long as he could. Then Lithuania would be left to fend off Belarus as Russia hightailed it off to less obsessive company. Nine glasses of champagne in, Lithuania found he was losing the ability to be tactful.
"He's your brother," he said, pleased to find the alcohol seemed to have taken the rasp from his voice.
"So?" Belarus said.
"So, it's a bit odd to be in love with your brother, isn't it? I mean - " he looked around. "England's not in love with his brothers, are you, England?"
England looked at him with a rabbit-caught-in-headlights-look. "Not as such, no," he said.
Belarus gave them both a disgusted look and stalked away. She was barely out of the room before Russia crept out from behind some floor-length curtains and twirled Lithuania back onto the dance floor.
"You are very good at getting rid of her," he said. "It will be midnight very soon, perhaps we can finally have a longer period of time to ourselves, yes?" He tipped Lithuania's face up and kissed him.
Crap, Lithuania thought, wondering how much of a diplomatic incident it would cause if he shrieked like an outraged nun.
"Oh. My. God," a familiar voice said. "So this is what you do when I'm, like, on my death bed."
"Ack," Lithuania said, as Russia's grasp tightened. "Poland? It's not what it looks like -"
Poland stood there, tapping his foot as other dancers round them slowed and looked on with some glee. Lithuania wasn't sure he'd ever seen someone wearing as many sequins on a dress before. It was hard to look at Poland when he moved, light flashing as it reflected from hundreds upon hundreds of tiny discs. "I dunno, Liet," he said. "Seems to me it's totally what it looks like. I'm languishing with the worst cold anyone has ever had, and Russia's taking advantage of that to make a move on you."
"Oh," Lithuania said in relief. "In that case, it's exactly what it looks like."
"Go home, Poland, you are very sick," Russia said with false concern. "I will take care of Lithuania. We are having fun, and will have more fun later. I am looking forward to kissing you properly at midnight, Lithuania."
"Tsk," Poland said, and blew his nose. "You probably think I'm going to cause a scene, and make poor Liet so embarrassed he'll go off with you just to get out of the limelight. Don't worry, Liet. Not gonna happen. Russia's going to leave gracefully."
Russia smiled beatifically. "No."
Poland shrugged and half-turned, setting two fingers to his lips. He whistled piercingly, cutting through the music. "Belarus!" he called. "I found him for you!"
Russia's face fell as Belarus appeared as if summoned by a particularly effective malevolent spell, her eyes alight with the thrill of the hunt. He let go of Lithuania and stepped back, trying to hide behind him.
"I guess you're right. Instead of leaving gracefully, you'll be running and leaving everyone speculating on what you and your sister get up to on those cold Siberian nights," Poland said victoriously, though he spoiled the moment somewhat by sneezing. Russia gave him a venomous look and sped off, Belarus in close pursuit.
"Hi," Poland said cheerfully to Lithuania. "Can I have this dance?"
"You said you were too sick and too snowed in to come," Lithuania said, holding out his arms for Poland to skip into.
"Eeh, I figured you'd totally need someone to look out for you, and I was right. Besides, it was boring at home so I, like, borrowed a snowplough - hi," he finished as Argentina leaned in, eyes wide with curiosity.
"Hi," Argentina said, " - who was that girl?"
"Russia's sister," Poland said, and made an elaborate and highly obscene gesture. "They're like that."
Argentina's eyes widened even more. "His own sister?"
"Trufax," Poland said solemnly, and pulled Lithuania away, leaving Argentina to spread the gossip to the other South American nations behind them.
"The countdown's about to begin!" America yelled. "Everyone get a drink to toast the New Year!"
Lithuania grabbed drinks for both of them as America started counting down. "Thanks for coming to save me," he said.
"Thanks for wanting to be saved," Poland said and raised his glass, grinning.
"Three-Two-One - Happy New Year!" America yelled, dancing round and kissing England before he could resist.
"Happy New Year," Lithuania said, and caught Poland up in his arms, kissing him.
"Much better than champagne," Poland said. "Happy New Year, Liet." He tightened his arms and kissed Lithuania while everyone around hugged, sang and kissed.
Much better indeed, Lithuania thought. Much better indeed.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Notes: Poland's funeral plans - in the 16th century, the Polish nobility's romantic ideology of Sarmatianism found special expression when it came to horses.
Saddles and bridles were embroidered with gold thread and sewn with sequins or semi-precious stones. It was common for a nobleman who had a number of fine horses and several caparisons to have them all harnessed and led along behind him by pages, rather than leave them at home where no one would be able to admire them. The Poles were close to their horses, which were symbols of their warrior status. They were tacked in fine harness, covered in rich cloths, adorned with plumes and even wings, and, on high days and holidays, dyed (usually cochineal, but black, mauve or green were favoured for funerals).
- Adam Zamoyski, Poland: A History, p. 95.
Poland and his ponies have always been fabulous.