Work Text:
Berkut relishes the opportunity to prove his right to his position, but it does get tiring on occasion to have his every move analyzed — not that he can ever admit to thinking so. Having people watching to see if he’ll stumble, to see if he’s truly worthy of being the heir to the Rigelian throne…every moment matters. Even on these social occasions, which have never been his favorite; it is much easier to show his strength on a battlefield than in a ballroom.
But it’s not as if he dislikes dancing. In some ways, it’s similar to battle, though he supposed it would have been more so if he fought on his feet instead of horseback. Regardless, it’s a form of exercise. And, on occasion, he’s found a worthy partner.
Tonight is not one of those nights. He’s danced with a handful of high-ranking noblewomen, though only one had been close to him in age. He knows that people wonder when he might find someone to carry on the family legacy with. If he’s honest, a part of him wonders the same. He has the strength to rule alone, but he has just as much responsibility to secure the nation’s future as he does its present.
He’s all but given up hope of having even an acceptable partner before he spots the blue-haired woman standing on her own, almost as if she’s considering leaving. So used to having everyone fall upon themselves to make his acquaintance — and what woman doesn’t like to dance? He’s far from the only eligible man there — he can’t help but approach and strike up a conversation.
It doesn’t take long for him to know it had been the right decision. Her gentleness is a refreshing change. Or rather, the authenticity of it. Even in Rigel, where strength is everything, some women still feign softer edges, perhaps thinking to win him over. He can’t stand the lies.
But Rinea is open and honest and at the way her face lights up when she speaks of dancing at her manor, Berkut’s heart does a strange little flip that he’s not felt before. It’s almost like the rush he feels just before facing a challenge, yet lighter. The fact that she’s so taken aback when he invites her to dance is just another sign of her charm.
And then she recovers. Calls him sweet, even. He’s certain that’s a word that has never been used to describe him as of late. She’s open again, as she had been when talking of her beloved garden, and it’s no less charming than before.
She smiles. “Shall we?”
“My lady,” he invites, holding out his hand.
After a slight hesitation — clearly she’s still not entirely over the fact that her future emperor singled her out for a dance — Rinea rests her hand on his. He closes his fingers around hers and steps closer. Even if she hadn’t told him of her love for dancing, her ease in the motions would’ve made it quite clear. At the same time as his hand finds her waist, hers rests on his arm.
Though they’re out in the hall, they can still clearly hear the music from within the ballroom. They’ve come together in the middle of a song, but it doesn’t take them much time to find their steps in the melody. It’s a pleasant change, to dance in privacy. Berkut studies his partner closely as their shoes glide across the tiled floor.
It’s true that her dress isn’t quite as spectacular as the others he’s seen this night, but it’s not as if he cares about such things. Fashion can be too often used as a disguise for weakness, people thinking that clothing alone is sufficient to change who they are.
Perhaps his challenge will be to help her see her worth. She’s a noble — there’s no reason for her to feel inferior to anyone else in the ballroom. He can help her see that, help her see that she’s better, even. And then who knows how stunning she may become?
“You continue to look better by the minute, Rinea,” he says.
She blinks. “My lord?”
“When I first saw you standing here, you looked quite dour. Just a few moments of dancing seem to have raised your spirits.”
Almost as if on cue, she smiles. There’s a flourish in the music, and he gives her the according spin. When she’s back in his grasp, the smile has someone managed to become brighter. How anyone could pass up on dancing with such a beautiful woman, Berkut will never understand. It’s a tactical error that he is more than happy to capitalize on.
“As expected, you dance well,” he continues.
“Thank you, Lord Berkut. As do you.”
There’s a hint of surprise in her compliment, and he can’t blame her. Though nobles are taught to dance at an early age, he supposes he doesn’t have the look of someone suited to anything other than the battlefield.
“I can’t say that it is my favorite activity, but it has its benefits.”
Rinea nods. “As you said already, it can improve one’s mood. Whenever something is bothering me, I often wish I could just dance it away.”
While Berkut would much rather crush whatever is bothering him, he understands the sentiment. After all, haven’t these minutes with her been the highlight of his evening? Is this how his parents felt, those times he’d seen them dancing together?
“And have you?” he prompts.
“Have I what?”
“Have you danced away what drove you to nearly leave the ball?”
She doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she just gazes at him, and for a moment he feels as if the entire kingdom is staring at him. What does she see in him? He wants to know the answer almost desperately. For the kingdom, all he has to show is strength. With a woman, it’s more complicated than that, isn’t it?
“I believe I have,” Rinea says finally. “Thank you, my lord.” A pause. “If I might ask…why did you approach me?” she asks.
It was true what he had said initially, that it seemed like a waste that she’d be standing alone during a ball. Yet that isn’t the whole truth, and there’s something about Rinea that calls him to be completely honest. It’s been some time since he felt that trust — most likely not at all since his mother had passed away.
“I was looking for a break of my own,” he admits, “when I saw you.”
The music has slowed, indicating they’re reaching the end. Ordinarily they’d both be expected to find another partner so as to not give the impression of a greater relationship, but he finds himself reluctant at the thought of dancing with anyone else. How could they compare?
“I was curious as to why you were alone, and now I admit I’m even more at a loss as to why no one sought you out earlier. You’re a fine lady, Rinea.”
If anyone did see the two of them dancing, she’d be sure to receive more attention. No one would dare spurn someone that their future emperor had taken an interest in. That flash of alarm would serve the others right, to realize the mistake they'd made in excluding her.
“I am honored to hear you think so.”
The final notes of violin peter out. Berkut remains in place, still holding Rinea’s hand, still touching her side. He holds her gaze. For a moment, it doesn’t look like she wants the dance to end either. But then she gives a little cough and steps back, bowing her head.
“Thank you for the dance, Lord Berkut.”
“I should be the one thanking you,” he says. “You have put everyone else at this ball to shame.”
There’s a touch of pink in her cheeks now. “That’s very kind of you to say.”
“I’m not saying it merely to be kind; it’s the truth. Will you allow me to dance with you again the next time you’re at a ball?”
“I — yes, of course. It would be my honor, my lord.”
Now that is something to look forward to.