I realized a couple of weeks ago that despite being a huge fan of the series, I haven't actually contributed anything to the Arslan Senki fandom. This is me fixing that. It's rather short and not the greatest since i hadn't figured out my "voice" for this fandom yet, but it's something. (Also, I felt the need to write Arslan X Etoil because I love them.)

Disclaimer: I don't own Arslan Senki.

Etoile wasn't one for dancing. At least, that's what she told herself.

In reality, she'd never given the action any thought. A knight had no use for dancing. Girls in constricting dresses and retired lords in their grand castles would go to balls and dance while the real knights were risking their lives on the battlefield. Dancing was meant to be a celebration, something only done once the war was won.

All in all, Etoile didn't see herself dancing for a very long time.

Right now, she was essentially a prisoner in the enemy's camp. It was only through the kindness of that crazy Prince Arslan of Pars that she and the other survivors from the keep of St. Emanuel were allowed to live and heal.

Dancing was the farthest thing from her mind.

Speaking of that crazy prince…

"Etoile!"

Here he is, running up to her with a smile on his face, without a care in the world.

As if they weren't supposed to be enemies. As if he wasn't the prince of a nation her country had come to conquer. As if he was just an ordinary boy coming up to greet his friend.

"What are you doing all the way out here?" Etoile asked. "Especially without some kind of guard?"

Etoile had left the main camp to do some laundry by the river. Her armor and the clothes of her fellow Lusitanians were filthy, so she'd taken advantage of some rare free time by the river and resolved to wash the clothes.

This put her a little ways away from the main camp, where a crown prince shouldn't be.

"Come on! You are going to miss it!" Arslan insisted instead of offering an explanation. He grabbed her hand and pulled her back towards the center of the camp.

"Wait… the laundry!" Etoile cried.

"It will be there when you get back. Come on!" Arslan insisted.

Begrudgingly, Etoile followed without any more complaint. She knew Arslan well enough by now to just go along with it.

He dragged her through the camp, navigating the rows of tents and weapon racks like they were meant to be there and hadn't been constructed earlier that day. There weren't that many people scattered throughout the camp, but the few they passed only waved briefly at their prince and Etoile.

Finally, Arslan stopped at the edge of a circle of tents. The large fire the soldiers used for light and cooking was in the middle, and may people were sitting around it.

Well, sitting probably wasn't an accurate description.

Most of the men were on their feet, jumping around in strange maneuvers and waving their arms like they were swatting invisible flies. And yet, they all had expressions of joy on their faces. The few people that were sitting down were tapping their feet and smiling.

Some of the men were playing instruments. A stringed Oud, a long flute, and some decorated drums. Others were singing lyrical notes with a story Etoile didn't know and a tune she didn't recognize.

Arslan turned to her with a smile. "Come on, let us dance!"

"Wa—" Etoile didn't get to finish her protest as that crazy prince pulled her out into the open.

Some of the men cheered at the sight of their leader. That only made Etoile feel worse about this.

"Etoile."

Arslan was standing in front of Etoile. He was holding his hand out for her to grab. "Would you like to dance with me?"

Etoile stuttered. "I—I don't know how! Why would you –"

"Just trust me, okay?" Arslan said. His face had that adorable hopeful look on it.

Etoile took his hand.

The music picked up.

Arslan leaned in to whisper in her ear. "Just do what feels right."

Etoile didn't think that advice would help her, but she tried anyway.

Since her armor was among the other pieces of dirty laundry, Etoile was wearing a short tunic. It wasn't anything like the dresses she used to wear at home, and it didn't give her the protection of her armor, but it was much lighter than either of those things and gave her more freedom of movement. That was something she would soon be thankful for.

It started as some small marching in place. Arslan swung his arms and made Etoile dance in circles, though somehow she didn't feel like she was getting dizzy.

Before long, the steps turned into little hops, matching the beat of the drums. Arslan released one of her hands, and she twirled under their joined arms.

Etoile realized that she was genuinely enjoying herself.

Arslan pulled her in closer, and the two of them were spinning faster, faster, faster as the music picked up. The world outside the two of them soon became a blur. The only thing Etoile could see was the prince in front of her.

And then the music stopped, and so did the movement.

People were cheering around them, but Etoile barely noticed over the sound of her heavy breathing. She looked over her shoulder, and realized that in addition to half the camp all the major generals were watching.

Daryun was standing to the side with Kishward. The two of them were engaged in conversation, though they were looking at Arslan and Etoile. Something they saw or were talking about made them smile.

Farangis and Lucian were sitting down, sharing drinks. Etoile could feel the older woman's stare at her back, but it didn't feel judgmental or hostile.

Elam, Narsus, and Alfreed were all sitting together by a makeshift table from a large rock. Elam was busy tending to his bow, but he cast sideways glances at Etoile and Arslan. Narsus had a scroll lain out in front of him presumably to read, but was looking amused at the pair. Alfreed was actually clapping enthusiastically.

Arslan smiled at Etoile. "That was fun!"

Etoile couldn't help herself, she smiled as well. "Yes, though I'm afraid I'll have to catch my breath."

She went and sat down next to Alfreed.

"Oh man, that was really good!" Alfreed praised her Lusitanian friend. "Have you done that before?"

Etoile shook her head. "No, I haven't."

Alfreed raised her eyebrows. "Really? Well, you and Prince Arslan looked really great dancing together!"

The corner of Etoile's mouth twitched. "You think so?"

"Yeah!" Alfreed started to laugh. "You know, this is just the sort of thing our old comrade Gieve would have enjoyed."

It was true. A few months later, when Alfreed recalled the incident to the bard after Etoile had separated from the camp, Gieve lamented ostentatiously for not having been able to witness such a display between the prince and a young woman.

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