You’re the color of my blood
You’re the cure, you’re the pain
You’re the only thing I wanna touch
Never knew that it could mean so much, so much
You’re the fear, I don’t care
‘Cause I’ve never been so high
Follow me through the dark
Let me take you past our satellites
You can see the world you brought to life, to life
So love me like you do, lo-lo-love me like you do
Love me like you do, lo-lo-love me like you do
Touch me like you do, to-to-touch me like you do
What are you waiting for?…”
-Love Me Like You Do by Ellie Goulding
Ijya had told her when she was but fourteen summers old, when the heat of the Brand had barely lifted its searing touch from her flesh, that one day she’d find a partner to dance with as she pleased. Instead of a man who’d command her to move, she’d find one who enticed her to do so. One who could lead, one who could follow, one who’d learn the steps with her.
Such thoughts had kept the dying flames of hope alive in her heart when she’d hide in the corners of her chambers back then. Now…
…she was twenty-five winters old. It’d been clumsy at first, trying to get a man who knew strictly courtly dances or whatever it was Nords called “dancing” in casual settings to do any sort of new steps with grace. But he’d been a fast learner, and to her surprise it seemed he’d been eager. She had to admit she’d had fun.
But this was different. This was slow, intimate, and he had a gentle command of every step and motion. She’d tried unsuccessfully to hide the trembling of her hand when she’d laid it in his. Rather than truly tighten on it, his thumb had rubbed reassuringly over her fingers, and he’d waited for her to lean into him to begin to lead.
This was not how it was supposed to go. Ijya was not supposed to be right about this.
A King, even an Outlaw One, could not be the one to ask her to dance. And she could not admit that she wanted to accept the invitation.
And yet the dance was easy, natural, the steps seemed to be as familiar as old friends…