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Dorothea’s grip on her wrist is gentle as she tugs her towards the middle of the room.
“Honestly, Ingrid it’s one thing to not know how to doll up. But dancing? You’re a noble woman after all. It should be second nature.”
The words sound hurtful but Dorothea’s sweet voice and playful smile has Ingrid flushing all the way to her ears, and she tries to hide her face in the crook of her shoulder.
“I… I never really bothered with that stuff.” She says through the fabric of her shirt.
Dorothea laughs, “Too busy running around swinging lances and riding horses till nightfall. Then you would lay in bed dreaming of knighthood, huh?”
Ingrid lifts up her head just to glance the other way. The pink in her cheeks still present.
“Does that sound silly?” She asks in earnest, a little nervous while waiting for an answer. Even when Dorothea leads her into a twirl, bringing them even closer afterwards, Ingrid can’t manage to make eye contact. Times like so, Felix’s apprehension for the gesture actually seems reasonable.
The two of them clumsily dancing together in her room, only a few centimeters apart, and under Dorothea’s present gaze, she can’t help but feel exposed- like peeling off each layer of the armor meant to keep everything from spilling out. And when there’s nothing left to remove and everything falls away Ingrid will be there. Vulnerable and bare. Stripped down to her core for those emerald eyes to behold.
She doesn’t even notice Dorothea talking until there’s a pinch at her hip to which she apologizes.
“As I was saying: no, it doesn’t sound silly at all. Not being like everyone else and having a dream you want to chase after isn’t silly.” She stops to dip Ingrid before continuing, “Even if it’s a different dream than the one your father had in mind. You deserve to be happy, Ingrid.”
They don’t come up from the dip right away. Dorothea is making no moves to do so. And Ingrid is too busy committing the whole scene to memory, as if painting each little detail into her brain. From the twinkle in Dorothea’s eyes to the stray curl nestled on her forehead. Even the low light of the fire from the candle illuminating the room.
Somewhere deep down inside is a feeling that’s been sitting dormant in Ingrid’s heart. A part of herself she’s unconsciously kept buried under the rubble of every little thing that makes up her self. A part she wouldn’t even begin to know how to understand. But now and then it’ll make itself known in different forms, different ways, sometimes it’s the nervous blush when she’s at the bathhouse with the other girls. Right now, though, it’s the butterflies fluttering their wings in her stomach, trying to break free, when Dorothea finally lifts them both up. They stir more as she slides her hand from Ingrid’s back to her hip.
Outside, it’s late and soon they’ll be toeing the line till curfew. But for now they stay looking at each other under the flicking light.
“I guess that’s enough dancing for tonight. Can’t have my personal knight in shining armor worrying about whether I made it back to my room safe and sound.” Dorothea says with a wink as she untangles their fingers and steps away.
The last thing she wants to do is say goodbye. Not while there’s a promise for something she doesn’t even know lingering in the room. But, almost mechanically, Ingrid strides towards the door.
“Uh… yeah. You’re right. It’s getting late.” And with one last wry smile Dorothea leaves, along with those promises.
Though later in bed, Ingrid stares at the ceiling, inhaling the remnants of a rosy perfume still in the air, and wonders if maybe the answer to the uneasiness in her heart could’ve been revealed if Dorothea had stayed.