#kyan's plot

His mother sat on the throne next to him, yammering to someone “important” nearby, but he couldn’t care less.  She could have been talking to the King of the Moon, and his mind would still be across the room.

Kyan was playing.  No one else seemed to take notice, but he had sat in on at least a dozen rehearsals, probably more.  Each time she played this piece, she gained confidence.  He was sure she’d practiced more on her own; the last time she’d played for him she’d stumbled on a particular part.  She’d called it a sautille, something new that had been introduced in this piece.

There it is, he thought to himself.  Last time it had sounded scratchy and uneven, but now it was just...perfect.

Maybe not.  The corners of her lips twitched downward as her solo finished.  She must have missed something.  He stood at the end of the piece to applaud, though no one else seemed keen to do so.

Hiking up his courage, the prince took a few steps down from his place at the head of the room.  Ignis called after him, but he simply waved her off.  He would likely be scolded for this later, but he didn’t care.  That was later.

The further he strode from his place, the more partygoers seemed to stare.  The more they stared, the more his confidence seemed to drain, leaving him high and dry, floundering in the empty seabed his bravery had previously occupied.

Why did the ballroom have to be so long?  He didn’t feel any closer to his friend than when he started, but suddenly he was right next to her.

She was so close, or he was, he supposed.The chatter around him was muted, and suddenly he felt like he was drowning as nerves flooded his body.

And then she looked at him.

Her lips moved, and it took him a moment to realize what she had asked.

“Any requests, Your Highness?”

“A dance.”

The words were out before he could catch them, and now he could see them swim around the room as she processed them.

“E-excuse me, did I hear you properly, Master Ventus?”

His face shriveled in disgust at the title, but he composed himself quickly.  “Ky-...Miss Kollika, may I ask you for a dance?”

She looked around briefly before offering him a smile, though it was too tight-lipped to be real.  “Of course, my Prince.  As you wish.”

Ventus took her hand as she stood and gave it a slight squeeze, though the breath was shortly knocked from his lungs as a burly nobleman clapped him on the back.

“My Prince, surely you jest!  She is but an entertainer!” the man laughed heartily, but the prince simply entwined his fingers with Kyan’s.

“I’m quite serious, actually.  It would be an honor to dance with Miss Young; she really is one of the best.”

He didn’t look at the stranger as he said this, simply holding Kyan’s gaze for a moment before turning to the conductor of the small chamber group accompanying the event.  “Something slow for the lady, if you would.”

The trek to the center of the dance floor felt very much like a trek.  The crowd didn’t part the same way it had when he’d made his way across the hall the first time; in fact, they almost seemed to be blocking his path.

The waltz started almost before they had stopped, and the atmosphere of the room was almost suffocating.  No one wanted them to dance.  No one liked what they saw.

But Ventus did.

“Ignore them,” he said with a soft smile, turning to her and taking her other hand gently.  His grin faded when he noticed that her gaze was intently fixated on the floor.  “Come on, Kyan, you’re a great dancer.  Who cares what they think?”

She shook her head.  “Why are you doing this?” she whispered, looking up at him.  The music in the background faded out as the fear in her eyes pierced his heart.  “Do you have any idea how much trouble we’re going to be in?”

“Trouble?  What’re they gonna do?  Take away my “right” to the throne?  They can’t touch me.”

“But what about me, Ventus?  I could get thrown out!” she hissed.  There were tears now, and the prince was starting to realize that maybe he hadn’t thought this through.

“I...I didn’t...I wasn’t...Kyan, I’m so sorry…” he finally resigned.

She softened at this and bit her lip.  Seeing him upset was the worst, and she had seen far too much of that in the last few months.  “I would love to dance with you, Ventus.”  Her voice was soft, and though her eyes were still sad, her smile was genuine.  She was scared.

He was too.

Their dance was awkward, but to them, it was perfect.  Her sense of rhythm was much better than his, but he caught on quickly.

“How come you never went to your ballroom classes?  You’re very good,” Kyan said.

The prince blushed, but this was the perfect opportunity.  “I, uh…”  I guess I’ve never wanted to dance with anyone else, his brain finished for him, but he was too flustered to say it himself.  “I don’t know.”

Kyan laughed lightly and shook her head.  Her legs felt weak, but whether it was from overexertion or from seeing Ventus smile, she wasn’t sure.  Maybe it was the fear creeping at the back of her mind and seeping into her periphery.

The party was still immobile around them, silent and judgemental.  If she hadn’t already resigned herself to the incessant targetting she was sure to face, she would likely have run by now.

“You, uh...you look great, by the way,” Ventus said after a moment, and Kyan’s cheeks flushed just as the song began to wind to a close.  “Oh, shoot, I thought I would have more time.”  The prince looked down, his face still red.

“What are you talking about?  We see each other every day,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

“I just--there was something I wanted to tell you, but…” he sighed when the waltz ended and met her gaze, steeling his resolve.  He took a deep breath and smiled at her sheepishly.

Kyan’s breath caught as the lighting seemed to change.  He was sure it was the same, but everything seemed...brighter.  Before he could second-guess himself, he was closer, his lips on her cheek.  And then he pulled away and took a step back.  “It was a pleasure dancing with you, Kyan.”

With a small wave, he left, back to his place at the head of the room.