Lotus Queen
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When they watch her dance, they see nothing more than a beautiful woman moving in time to the beat of a small leather-headed drum and the lilting tune of a reed flute, arms weaving sensual patterns in the warm desert air and hips moving gracefully with the rhythm of a primordial sound.
But what they see is only at the surface, much like a lotus bloom resting gently upon the still water of a calm and peaceful pond. They do not see the turmoil of the life beneath the water, the fish and insects and other forms of life so nondescript that there is no name for them even as they fight for survival, nor the thick stalk anchoring the flower firmly in place to the dark and murky depths, deep into a past of shame and fear and pain.
As she moves across the stage, braid twisting and whipping about her like a vivid crimson serpent, she remembers. She allows the memories to fill her, the emotion to engulf her in a wild, reckless energy that gives hidden strength and grace to her movements.
Memories of the unforgiving chill of the desert night, alone on the streets with her brother as she slowly realizes they've been abandoned; she draws her arms around herself, pulling a loved one close and forcing away the cold.
Rapture and awe, watching as a figure wrapped in the blues and greens of a cool oasis pool spun rapidly across the stage before freezing like a sculpture in a temple courtyard. She mimics the pose now, right leg raised behind her and bent at the knee, thigh parallel to the floor, her right hand grasping her ankle tightly for increased balanced as the left is raised proudly above her head, fingers together and palm bent in imitation of deadly desert cobra.
The crowd applauds as the flute's warbling melody holds out for a moment longer before being joined by the drum's steady beats and the high keening tone of traditional Jehannan strings join the ensemble. The drum keeps time with her heart as her bare feet carry her quickly across the stage, as she bites her lip while the hot and sweaty body of a man presses her body against a thin pallet—his coin glints in the light of a lone candle, and as his hands begin to explore her body she repeats to herself, "It's just a job, it's only a job…"
And then another memory, a night beneath a thin blanket as the thin sliver of the Jehannan moon set the sand aglow; she brushes her lips over the vicious scar across his face, and he tilts her chin up so their eyes meet.
"You're beautiful," he tells her as he presses his hand against her pounding heart. "So beautiful."
She lets the emotion take over as the music crescendos, feet striking the stage and arms cutting the air. Her movements are wild and untamed; this is the soul of the dance, the passion and fire that gave her life once again. In the years that have passed since she was first left to care for her brother on her own she has done things she is not proud of, but this—yes, it is this unrestrained energy that forced her to grow from the murky depths and shames of her past.
And then it is done. With a flourish she finishes, one knee resting upon the stage as the other is leg is extended behind her. Her left hand rests easily at her side while the right is held in front of her breast, fingers splayed in imitation of a lotus flower, and as the crows applauds wildly, Tethys favors them with a secret smile.
For she is the Lotus Queen, and she will let no one forget.
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Xirysa Says: Can you tell I'm a dancer? XD Seriously, so many aspects of Indian classical dance made their way in here it's not even funny, especially since it's fairly obvious that Jehanna =/= India. (Three guesses as to what kind of dance I do lol.) Then again, I suppose it's not that obvious unless you know what to look for, so.
Still, I'm rather surprised that, despite having been dancing pretty much my entire life, it's taken me this long to write fic about it. Ah well.
This was written for Challenge 001: Royalty for the Magvel community on Livejournal. As always, feedback is very much appreciated—thanks for reading!