Your jaw dropped, there's no doubt you'd catch a fly, and your hand flew to your mouth, quickly recouping your bearings. You were still a princess, after all, you need to act like it.
It's just, you never knew someone couldn't know how to dance, of all things. You've always thought that it was something everyone did! You thought that everyone loved to spend their free time clicking their heels and swaying their dress to the newest symphony, letting their hair move in the wind and getting lost in the rhythm. But apparently not.
"Never thought about it, I guess," He simply shrugged, turning his head to look across the kingdom, attempting to hide the smirk that snuck onto his face. He peered back down at his belt, fiddling with the handle of his sword.
"Whaa?" Your eyes widened and you shot up from your seat, leaning over the table. Your brows pursed and lips pushed into a pout, "How can you not think about dancing! It's like-like the best thing in the whole wide world!" You waved your hands around to add dramatic flair, falling back into your seat - your dress crinkling under your weight.
The small tiara on your head slumps to the side, causing you to just push it out of your vision as you lean against the table, hand on your cheek, "You really don't know what you're missing out on..." You grumble.
He just chuckles, "I suppose so..." Looking out at the royal garden, peering at the rooftops that stretch past the castle walls. The garden had a vast amount of flowers, trees, and fruits, from all over the world. Some exotic, while others were local, but they all were different in their own might. And even then, there wasn't even a fourth of the world's nature in this garden.
You really have no clue. There's so much out there, yet you're far too focus on some simple dancing. You were like any other noble, but simply in a different font. You were a slightly lighter rose in a flowerbed of other roses, only standing out if you'd look hard enough. And he was nothing more than a thorn on your side, only created for the purpose of prickling the hands that dared to reach for you. Though he's just sixteen, he's already seen so much, experienced so much more, that he has never had time for silly dancing, these meaningless conversations you indulge in. Though he supposes, that's what he likes about you--your innocence, how you are so naive to their horrors pass the castle walls.
He keeps his posture straight, attempting to stay professional even though you declared the two of your friends from the day you first met. He can't help but feel on guard, taking his job a little too seriously, but it isn't every day that the Nation's Sweetheart's life is in your hands.
"Never had the time, I reckon," He adds on, glancing back at you, only to be greeted by your befuddlement. It makes him chuckle.
"Hmmmm, I guess that's a good reason..." You purse your lips, looking off to the side, huffing as you thought about the situation. A small smile creeps onto your face, your eyes flicker across your large bedroom.
The curtains drawn, letting in all the natural lighting the sun has to offer. The white tiles framed in glimmering gold, just as the doorway and window seals are. Your bed, which is far too big for just one person, stands right in the middle, outlined by white lace. A room fit for a princess, as your father would say.
From where you sat, on the ivory balcony, there was plenty of room to waltz -- you were sure of it. Though the table would be in the way, you're sure the two of you could make do. Glancing over at your loyal guard, you was far too uptight, you jump up from your seat, pointing right at him.
"Well! There's plenty of room here, let's dance!" You smile, feeling far too giddy. It's been so long since you've danced with a friend, and you can't help but feel excited. Offering your hand out to him, you look at him with awaiting eyes, fluttering your lashes.
And for the first time in what felt like years, he could feel his heart skip a beat. The organ pumping blood a little faster, banging and prodding against his ribs in a simple thud, thud...thud. The way your eyes gleamed had his chest tightened, that simple thud feeling far more like the ringing bells of a chapel. That thud was no longer just a thud, but a memory, a vision of what could be, what would be.
Taking your hand, feeling the ivory cloth of the material, he bites back a small smile, covering it with a stoic expression. He stands to his full height and lets you guide him through the steps. Though clumsy, he regains his bearings quickly.
As you laugh and giggle, jumping and twirling in his arms, he decides then and there that maybe... just maybe, you were onto something. It might be possible that you're not just some off-colored rose in the flower bed, but the rose that was plucked and sealed in resin, hidden from the greedy hands of others, instead encased so they can gawk from a safe distance, only for the gardener to touch.
And maybe, he isn't just a thorn on that rose, but the gardener who'd snipped the rose away. Yeah... he liked that idea.
He just needed to snip the bud.
