She had asked him so sweetly, he couldn’t refuse. Though, to be fair, he hd never been able to refuse her anything, from the moment they had met so many years ago. But now... even thinking about telling her ‘no’ would be a mortal sin in his eyes. She deserved the world, after all she had suffered, and he would deliver it if he could.
In this case, the world was a dance. Just one, quiet dance. Him and her, no one else to see.
And she asked so quietly, as if she were scared that he might say no. (That was something he had loved about her for so long, that she never presumed she had any kind of ownership over anyone. She never assumed that he would bow to her every will, even though he’d been doing so for years)
“My Lady, please be careful,” he mentioned as she set aside her cane. It could be much worse, but it still felt like a tragedy that she had to walk with it-- and would have to walk with it for the rest of her life. It was the proof of the damage done, the irreversible damage.
“Its alright,” she insisted, quickly hobbling a few steps to him. She put one of her hands in his, then placed the other on his shoulder. Her smile was gentle, but it shone like the sun. “Inigo has been giving me lessons.”
“Olivia’s and Henry’s boy?” he lifted a skeptical brow, his usual wary frown on his face.
He was so tall compared to her, his frame so much stronger, wider. She was slight... even more so than she used to be. And she didn’t wear her Sage’s mantle anymore, she wore simple dresses... humble and modest and not like the royal wardrobe she once knew. Yet it suited her all the same, and he secretly liked that he could see her the slightest hints of her figure in this. She seemed so much like the girl he fell in love with so long ago, but without the staggering burden of politics.
“Yes. He is a very good teacher,” she assured Frederick. “He taught me to dance... I asked him to...”
“Mm...” Frederick hesitated before letting his hand fall onto her waist. It was an indulgence he had never allowed himself before, so personal and intimate.
Emmeryn looked up at him as they started the little steps. A very slow, very stilted waltz. He had to keep an easy pace so she could keep up with her weakened hip and leg, but did. It was surprising... her limp was only barely noticeable as she moved. Maybe Inigo was a good tutor--
“...I liked to dance before... didn’t I?” she asked, her green eyes searching and begging him for an honest answer. Her recovery had been making new bounds as of late, she had remembered many faces and events recently, but there were still aspects of her personality-- what she liked to do in her spare time, what scared her-- that she was trying to find again.
Frederick was hesitant to answer as they turned slowly from side to side. She stood so close, and he realized that he didn’t want to let her go. He wanted to hold her, had wanted to hold her for so so long.
“Yes... you did. But you rarely got the chance,” he told her, stern but soft. “You always had to host balls and parties... But you often told me how much you liked to watch others.”
She paused a moment, absorbing that. As she did, she leaned closer to him in their waltzing stance, needing his support to compensate for her leg. He gladly offered it, giving her purchase against his shoulder.
“Well... I shall dance more now,” she vowed, turning her head to rest a cheek against his linen shirt. “I won’t deprive myself this time...”
Frederick took in a shaking breath, nodding softly as he did. “I think that is a good decision, My Lady.”