254. And that's when I stopped believing in gravity.

The great hall was laced in ribbons of pearl and pale gold, with flowers scattered on anything they could decorate. Nobles spun in steps that were lightened by the spirit of impossible celebration, each grand lord and rich lady a fine silk loop woven into the pattern of dancers. Torchlight came in waves, splashing off the night's blackness in the windows outside and sparking off every surface, but the prince's face was remarkably bright against the marble, far outdoing the marble. Siegfried's youth was traced cleanly in the trembling lines of his mouth, lips held apart from each other in an ethereal smile. Nervousness that had twisted in his heart like a knife was overtaken by healing thrill. This had been their night, a moment more than overdue.

For his princess, who had been hurt by everything. For himself, who had felt not even shadows for so achingly long. This wasn't their ultimate happiness, merely their confirmation that such a thing would be given to them. Nothing had brought this evening to ruin, and he utterly believed nothing would. He would never allow anything to touch that smile on her face.

It was not the smile she sometimes showed, though more and more often as of late, that was still restrained. Elegant, yes, the smile of a princess. But a princess who feared that any true happiness would be rejected as unrefined, if not something worse. She sought approval from everyone, fiercely determined that she would fulfill some standard as a princess for him. If anything continued to ache in his steady heart, it was her worry that he might one day choose to leave her side. But his pulse would falter before his presence beside her would. In any other person, her desire would seem frantic, but he only saw it as evidence of her passion.

He wished to protect this newly brilliant smile. This smile was delight, and she was almost dizzily delighted. Her hair flounced beneath her embroidered veil as they whirled together, her prince's hands barely touching her spine as he tenderly led her in their dance. Rue could feel that each delicate move he made was to support her, over half her steps might have carried her to the floor if his arms had not secured her. She might have been perfectly weightless, but she understood, could not stop herself from understanding, that he was lifting all her weight onto himself. She swept a hand along his cheek, tears speckling her eyelids. “My prince...”

He placed a finger over her lips, keeping silencing her gratitude. He knew all of it already; it was in the gliding glory of her dancing. “Shh. There is no need to cry. Rue, just dance with me. That is what you want, isn't it?”

She nodded breezily, and gasped when his hands tightened about her waist in response. She jumped from the ground, trusting him to finish the motion. He stretched her into the air, the release timed with a natural precision that came from knowing each other, and she curved her back, her limbs angled like the tips of the crescent moon.