This is set before the events in FFVIII. It might be a oneshot, in which case the story is mostly implied. This was just for fun.
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"1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3…" her teacher's steps kept in time with the light and airy music. "Keep in time, Rin." His voice snapped her back from her semi-dream state. The pearl white dance floor, his full suit, her belle dress, matched for the celebration her father threw every year. Father, not Dad. The girl twirled in her heels, a gloved hand holding the gentleman's palm, this is what it was like to be military royalty. And above all, she hated it.
"Rin, perhaps you would explain why your dress is unbuttoned halfway?" He stopped the dance, and waved his hand at the musician, filling the high ceilings with silence. "I realize you dislike these dresses, but this is the way it is." Spinning her around, and grabbing her back, he squeezed it closed, and Rinoa found herself unable to breathe, as it always was. "Now, would you also care to explain your lack of enthusiasm?" He held her chin up, looking straight into her eyes. "And don't think you'll get out of answering that question."
Rinoa shifted her eyes away from his; avoiding the contact he seemed to desire. "No reason that you need to be concerned with." She grabbed his hand, and set it back to her side, in order to resume this wonderful dance. And the music played again.
"1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3…" in time, flowing perfectly again, despite the fact that she couldn't breathe. "You realize I still expect an answer correct?" he said flatly as he swept her across the floor. Rinoa thought to herself, get used to this disappointment, but said nothing aloud. "You know, pretending isn't going to help anything." Ah, yes, he knew, everyone in the room knew what she was trying to hide. "Perhaps you can, in time, accept these facts as the way it is." The music piqued with its minuet, bringing the feel of the bright spring day inside the flowered halls.
And still her eyes would not meet his. "Perhaps you are right, but it does not matter." Her words echoed coldly. This afternoon would be as unpleasant as possible. Cold, bitter, fierce. These were the sides one rarely saw when it came to the bubbly Rinoa Heartilly. But if he wanted to play, she would play too.
Then he kissed her. The musicians ignored it, as they always had. Lips slightly parted, holding everything still, beyond the joyful crescendo of piano and violin. "Do not be a fool Rinoa, you know who and what I am, and who and what you are." Again she was swept across the floor.
"Perhaps you should have considered all of this before deciding to run back to school Seifer." She broke herself apart from him, and turned around, gliding across the floor to the terrace. "It doesn't matter who I am, or who you are. What matters is what you decided to do." He didn't know it, but she'd decided something for herself too. "Now, my lesson is over, so if you will please escort yourself out, I know you need to be on the boat tonight." There was no sound of remorse, no fear or anger. It was just as flat as the things he'd said.
He followed close behind her, and when she stopped, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, resting his head against the back of hers. "You know, Rinoa, this is fine. You'll be fine, and I'll be fine, and we all live happily ever after. Perhaps you forgot, but I'm still your knight." He clasped her hand, and pulled each of her white satin fingers, until he was holding only the glove. "And this, this is what I take to remind you that I will be back. After all, I have something to return to you."
Without the glove her hand fell cold. "As I said, Seifer, please escort yourself out, I have a few things to do around here before my father returns home." And she did, but it was more of an excuse to get him to leave. With that he let go, tucking the glove inside his pocket. He spun her again, bowed, and kissed the hand still gloved.