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It's nearing midnight when Lumine and Dainsleif arrive at Fontaine's Four Water Square. Luckily for them, the festivities are still going strong.
Three days into the Summer's End Festival, and Lumine can finally admit that she has been well and truly been taken by the spirit of celebration that runs through the city. Just like the Windblume in Mondstadt, the Summer's End Festival is a medley of food, drink, music, games and cheer; but where the people of Mondstadt would have retired to one of the city's many taverns by this time, the square is still alive with figures.
Lumine watches them from her perch in the bell tower. From this angle, the ground is an undulating mass of colour as people drift between the stalls arranged around the four fountains that give the square its name, or dance to the music from the string quartet playing in the corner. The smell of warm, buttery pastry drifts up to her. She spots the source, a stall selling baked goods, beneath her feet, and suddenly her stomach is growling.
“Are you sure you don't want to go down?” asks Dain, sitting beside her on the ledge.
Lumine shakes her head. She hopes he can't hear the embarrassing sounds her body is making. The pair of them only ate dinner an hour ago, after all.
“I'm happy watching from here, if you are,” she says with a smile.
Dain nods and returns to watching the festival. He's always been a man of few words, Lumine knows, an observer rather than a participant. She found it strange, even a little annoying, when they first met all those years ago. Now, the silence between them has become a kind of love language, so much so that one of Lumine's favourite activities after a long day of travelling is sitting down next to Dain, taking his hand in hers and absorbing the sights and sounds of the world around them in silence.
A sudden breeze sweeps across the tower, making Lumine shiver. It's no wonder they call this festival Summer's End: for the past couple of weeks, the nights have been getting longer and colder. Not that she minds. The low temperatures give her an excuse to cocoon herself between Dain's arms as they sleep, huddled up like a pair of ermines sheltering from a snowstorm.
Feeling Lumine tremble, Dain lifts the side of his cape and drapes it around her shoulders. She nestles against him, taking in his warmth, the subtle earthy smell of his clothing. All the things she’s come to love about him.
Her eyes wander the square once again. While the majority of people seem to be bunched in groups, there are a fair amount of couples among their number. Her heart jumps as she sees a young pair twirling in front of the quartet, their bodies so close they might as well be joined to one another.
“Have you ever danced before, Dain?” she asks.
After a pause, he answers, “Not for a very long time. I don’t think I’d be much good at it anymore.”
“Me, neither,” Lumine says with a laugh. Still, she can’t look away from the couple. They look utterly taken with one another, staring into one another’s eyes as they dance, as if the world around them doesn’t exist.
“Did they have balls in Khaenri’ah?”
Dain stiffens at her question, making Lumine wonder if she’s made a mistake. While Dain doesn’t seem to mind when she asks the occasional question about Khaenri’ah or brings it up in casual conversation, he seldom talks about his past of his own accord. Lumine can only imagine it’s as painful as when she talks about the brother she’s lost.
Grunting softly, Dain drops the cape from around Lumine’s shoulders and stands up as if to walk away. Panic flashes through her until he turns and offers her his hand.
“Dain?” she asks, a little uncertainly.
“Don’t talk,” he says. “Just come with me.”
After allowing herself to be pulled to her feet, Lumine follows Dain down the ladder they used to climb to this spot and drops to the cobblestones below. For a moment, she thinks they’re going to join the festival, but Dain leads her down a side street in the opposite direction. They come out in a smaller square, completely silent except for the trickle of the fountain in the centre. It’s not as big as any of the ones in Four Waters Square, but that doesn’t make the way the moonlight reflects off the rippling water any less beautiful.
Dain leads her to the side of the fountain and looks down at her. “So, you want to learn how to ballroom dance like a Khaenri’ahn, do you?” Despite the straight set of his lips, his eyes glimmer with a smirk behind his mask.
“Y-yes,” says Lumine.
“Traditionally, only the gentry were given formal dance lessons.” Dain brushes a lock of golden hair from Lumine’s forehead. The feeling of his glove against her skin makes her heart jump.
“Are you saying I wouldn’t be worthy to stand among the royals?” she teases, taking a step closer to him. There’s no missing the slight hitch of his breath as their chests touch.
“Why don’t you prove it by showing me how quickly you can learn?”
Before Lumine can voice a reply, Dain takes her by the waist and positions her in front of him. Then he raises one hand and holds it out to the side, palm up. Lumine slides her hand on top. His fingers easily encircle hers.
She’s not completely clueless, of course. Years of travelling from world to world have exposed her to a broad spectrum of dances, even if she’s hardly taken part in any herself. They just all look so… complicated.
Then again, there’s a first time for everything, and who better to ease her into it than her lover?
She places her other hand on Dain’s shoulder while he adjusts his grip on her waist. Their height difference is never as obvious as when they’re standing toe-to-toe like this - the top of Lumine’s head barely reaches his collar. Dain called it ‘cute’ once before she flushed scarlet and made him promise never to do it again.
“Are we going to waltz?” Lumine asks. That’s the usual ballroom dance, isn’t it?
“Sort of,” says Dain. “Waltzes are usually danced in three-beat time, but this music is in four. Think of this as a variation.”
He pauses for a moment so that Lumine can hear the music drifting over from Four Waters Square. As she thinks of all the people over there, she immediately feels grateful that they have this space to themselves. Not a single person has walked through this square since they arrived. It’s like their own little ballroom in the centre of Fontaine.
“Right.” Dain gives a nod and steps back with his left foot. Surprised that the dance has already begun, Lumine follows with her right a little too fast. Dain has to jerk the hand he’s holding upwards to help her maintain balance.
“Sorry,” she mutters.
A rare chuckle falls from Dain’s lips. “There’s no need to rush. You’re just following my lead.”
To prove his point, he takes another step back. This time, Lumine moves with him flawlessly. His fingers squeeze her waist in appreciation.
“See? And now the other way…”
He guides Lumine backwards, but her heel catches on a cobblestone and she almost trips again. She grits her teeth as she catches her balance. Why is this so hard ? She never has this problem when fighting or traversing the environment. It’s as if she’s determined to make a fool of herself in front of Dain.
But rather than laugh again, he leans down and presses a kiss to her forehead. “You’ll get the hang of it soon. I promise.”
Soothed by his words, Lumine squeezes his hand. He’s right. She’s been alive for so long that she’s almost forgotten there are still things she won’t immediately be good at.
Besides, it’s just a stupid dance. If some stuffy Khaenri’ahn noble can do it, then so can she.
“Would it be okay if I tried leading?” she asks. “I think it might help.”
Dain raises an eyebrow, but nods. “If you’re sure.”
She waits a moment for the music phrase to end, then starts to move her feet again. Dain shadows her every step, as fluid as cascading water. Now that she has the freedom to lead as she wishes and doesn’t have to worry about stepping on his toes, Lumine finds that the dance comes far more easily to her. Within a minute, she’s moving in time to the music.
“You’re doing well,” says Dain, the corner of his lips rising. “And now a twirl…”
He releases her waist and raises his other hand, prompting her to spin on the spot, catching her as she faces him again.
“And now down.”
Before she can ask what he’s talking about, Lumine finds herself being guided backwards. Her heart leaps as she thinks she’s going to fall onto the cobblestones, but Dain’s hand slides up her back until his gloves are touching bare skin, holding her firmly against him.
For a moment, time stands still. Lumine stares up into Dain’s face, takes in the blush of his pale skin, his eyes the blue of lights undulating above snowy Northern forests, his slightly parted lips. If she raises her head just a little, she’ll be able to feel those lips against hers. There’s nothing more that she wants in this moment.
Dain pulls her straight before she can act out her desire, but his hand doesn’t leave her back. He tilts his head downwards, offering himself to her, and Lumine, taking his invitation, pushes herself up on her tiptoes…
Something shifts on the other side of the square. Lumine gives a little yelp of surprise, jolting Dain, who pulls her against his chest protectively. But it’s nothing to draw her weapon over, she quickly realises as she peers over his shoulder, just a person walking from one street to another. A laugh escapes her lips. She feels like an idiot.
She plants a kiss against Dain’s chest, then pulls away. It’s not quite the romantic embrace she had in mind, but it’ll do for now.
“So, how did I fare?” she asks, placing her hands on her hips. “Would I be worthy to dance at a Khaenri’ahn ball?”
Dain takes her hand in both of his and presses his lips to her knuckles. “You would outshine even the most decorated lady.”
While Lumine is sure he’s only saying that to make her feel better, there’s no denying the way her heartbeat skips at his words. She slips her hand into his and intertwines his fingers with her own.
“Come on,” she says, pulling him in the direction of Four Waters Square. “Let’s catch the last hour of the festival. I want to share one of those pastries with you before the night ends.”