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“N-no, I don’t think I want to do this anymore.”
“Inigo.”
“It’s okay. I’ll just – I’ll find a new path. I’ll be a sellsword.”
“Inigo.”
“PLEASE don’t make me go up there, Robin!” he pleads, staring at you balefully. Any other day, that look would have melted you, but not today.
“Inigo, come on. This is your dream! You’ll be fine.” You smile at him gently and put your hand on his shoulder. He looks at you uncertainly, but relaxes slightly at your touch. “I promise.”
“But what if I’m not?” he asks.
“What, you don’t trust me?”
“Of course I do,” he says immediately. “But how can you possibly know –”
“I’ve seen you dance, remember? You’re amazing. The best I’ve ever seen.” You punch him lightly on the arm, and he pouts at you. “It’s going to go great, okay? Believe me.”
“I am not amazing,” he mumbles, but grins despite himself. He shakes his head, as if waking himself up, and says, “But what if…”
“What if what?”
“What if it goes really badly and everyone just stares at me blankly? Or they boo me off the stage? Or throw things at me? What if –”
“What if a horde of Risen falls from the sky wearing frilly pink tutus?” you scoff. “Calm down!”
“But it could happen,” he says in a small voice. “Well, probably not the Risen thing.”
“If anyone boos you, I’ll beat them up.”
“Robin!”
“Okay, okay!” You pat his head reassuringly. “Don’t worry! I brought a rug I can throw over you while we make our escape.”
“Someone came prepared,” he mutters, obviously not sure if you’re joking or not.
You laugh. “It’s not going to happen, Inigo. Calm down.” You stroke his cheek. “You really are the best dancer I know, okay? I mean it.”
“Besides my mother, you mean.”
You look around furtively. “Well,” you confess quietly, “I actually think you’re better. Don’t tell her.”
“What?!” He stares at you disbelievingly. “No way. You’re being ridiculous.”
“It’s true!” you say defensively. “There’s a different energy about you when you dance. Something I never see in anyone else.” You smile tenderly at him, searching his face. “It’s a really special thing to see you dance, you know. These people are lucky.”
He exhales softly. “You’re full of crap,” he says with a laugh, but the grateful look in his eyes tells you that he took your words to heart. He hops onto the first of the short steps leading to the stage, so that you need to look up slightly to see his face properly. He puts his arms around you so that his chin rests on the top of your head, so you wrap your arms around his waist, pressing the side of your face to his chest.
You stay like that for a while, feeling his breathing and the slowly steadying pumping of his heart, until you hear the muffled voice of the announcer calling his name. His heart quickens and he tightens his grip. You tug away gently.
“Go,” you say encouragingly. He shakes his head mutely. “Come on, Inigo, you’ll be amazing!”
He takes a shaky breath. “Promise?” he asks you urgently.
“I promise.” You grab his hands and kiss them.
“Okay. I trust you.” He takes another deep breath, then flashes you his signature easy grin. “Here I go.” He bounds up to the stage and disappears into the curtain.
You run around to the front of the stage to see him in the beginning paces of his routine. The crowd is silent, and when you look around, you see everyone staring with wide eyes, completely enthralled.
Inigo finishes another move and catches your eye as he spins to start the next one. He flashes you a smile, a grateful, genuine one, and you grin proudly back.
As he completes his final step, he bends gracefully into a bow and noise erupts throughout the audience. One of his fears comes true: people do throw things at him, but it’s his mother, and they’re flowers. He goes as pink as the carnations as he blows her a kiss.
A still-flushed Inigo finds you backstage as he stumbles behind the curtain again after an absurdly long curtain call.
“You did it!” you squeak as you throw your arms around his neck. He chokes slightly with the tightness of your grip, but you feel him smile into your neck as he hugs you back. “You were amazing, I told you so!
“I guess that went alright,” he admits quietly, and then his face breaks into a huge grin. “I love you, Robin.”
“What? Why?”
“Well, I mean, we’re married,” he points out.
“Oh, yeah, that.” You grin sheepishly. “I mean, I love you too, babe.”
He shoves you. “But I meant because, well… You got me through that. If it wasn’t for you, I would have just run. I never would have gotten up there and done that.” He points at the curtain. “My dream would have been over.”
“It wouldn’t have been over, there would have been other chances –” you try to reason, but he interrupts you.
“I would have run from those, too. You gave me the courage I needed to do that. The way no one – nothing else could have.” He kisses your forehead. “Thank you.”
You smile, and shake your head. “Thank you for sharing your gift with us, Inigo. It was just as special as I said,” you say.
“You flatter me,” he says. He looks at you, suddenly serious. “Really, though. You give me strength, Robin. Thank you.”
“And you put a smile on my face every single day,” you reply, smiling as you say it. “I’d say it’s a fair trade.”
“It’s the least I can do for you, since you agreed to marry me,” he says with a grin. “I love you.”
“I love you too, stupid.” You kiss him. “So. When’s the next concert?” you ask nonchalantly as you leave together, and laugh as he turns pale.