“May I ask for this dance?”

Aymeric straightened up out of the bow, extending one hand to her, his light blue eyes looking at her. The finery that adored the Lord Commander was a far cry from the armour he was often in, but then again, the warrior of light was not often found in a dress.

She smiled, put her glass down, and reached out to take his hand with hers, silver jewellery and adornments tinkling gently as she moved with the elezen out onto the dance floor. They passed by Artoirel and Emmanellain both, the elder brother having not left the floor in quite some time due to the queue of ladies seeking his attention. But then it was his inauguration party as the new Count Fortemp, he was supposed to be the center of attention tonight.

Iscara herself had already had several dances, with all three Fortemps, a few Knights, men and women both, and Alphinaud, although the young scion had scarce known what to do with his feet most of the time. But this dance, this was the one that was she had hoped for, skin tingling ever so slightly as they reached a space and turned to each other. His hand on her lower back, hers to his shoulder, their other ones clasping together, and they started to move.

She had come to this land full of mistrust and wariness, on the back of the biggest betrayal she had ever experienced, and just as she had slowly won the city over, so too had it won her affection back. And no one more so than Aymeric. Practical and compassionate, she had watched his actions, heard his words, and steadily, he had become a friend. Perhaps, even more so than that.

They twirled, her skirts flaring out, his sash trailing after them as they matched each other’s steps, both of them experienced at moving together. She’d felt it when fighting alongside him, and was secretly pleased that dancing was no different.

Perhaps she was lying to herself when she said perhaps. She could pinpoint the moment she realised that Aymeric had her absolute trust, something even some of the scions had yet to win from her, as close as they were as a group – It was when he had bowed to Midgardsormr, and spoke of the future, of the effort he would put forth into it. As Midgardsormr remembered his words, so too did she. She never ceased to believe either, even when it was hard.

He brought her in close again, the warmth of his hand easy to feel through the dress, causing yet another tingle down her spine. They looked at each other, light blue meeting dark, and Iscara hoped they would continue dancing for a long while yet.

Aymeric