Of course she knew she'd be expected to dance with her husband on her wedding day, Rosaline wasn't a simpleton. The problem was that at every social event where it was expected for the betrothed couple to dance, he'd found ways to avoid her. Here they were again, at the palace. She was leaning against a pillar and he...he was helping an elderly relative across the hall. She frowned into her goblet of wine. No, she wasn't about to let the actions of Benvolio Montague upset her.

Alright she was. He never missed a chance to annoy her in public. Why was this the one thing he seemed so unwilling to try...Her eyes widened as Benvolio caught her looking at him and smirked. There was only one reason she could conceive of. She tilted her head, smiling back at him. His teasing expression turned to alarm as she pushed off the column. Crossing the sea of partygoers, she heard the hush as her feet went over the imaginary line the Montague and Capulet guests had created for themselves. A woman dropped her goblet, a man stepped on his wife's foot, a musician played a false note. Rosaline ignored all of it.

Benvolio's eyes were darting around him, presumably looking for exits, but he was not fast enough. Rosaline smiled down at him.

"It is a lovely party, is it not, my lord?" She asked, loud enough to be heard by all the closest guests. Not that it would be too difficult as many of them had lowered the volume of their conversation to eavesdrop.

"Yes." Benvolio stood, straightening his doublet. "Though any room with you shines ever brighter." So he was going to be a poet tonight. Good, she could use that. Ignoring the way his words flamed her cheeks, she drew her fingers casually along the side of the table.

"The music is so wonderful tonight." She remarked. "It makes it almost impossible to sit still."

"Probably explains why you are standing." Benvolio said. There was a loud thwacking sound. At first Rosaline was unsure where it had originated, but Benvolio answered that question when he looked down at the elderly Montague next to him.

"Your beautiful bride to be wants to dance with you, foolish boy." He warbled. He grinned at Rosaline. "Excuse my grandson, his father would have taught him better, but unfortunately he was raised by his uncle." He sighed. "I tried to teach that boy, but Damiano was always the less jovial one."

"Grandfather." Benvolio began through gritted teeth.

"Dance with her." The elderly lord Montague said, lifting his cane. "Or I'll thrash you again and dance with her myself."

Rosaline covered her mouth as her red faced fiance jumped out of the reach of his grandfather's cane and offering his arm to Rosaline. Leading her to the dance floor, he stared pointedly at the floor.

They bowed to each other before he took her hand, placing the other on her waist. Rosaline waited for him to fumble or step on her toes...but the mistakes never came. In fact, she noted sourly, Benvolio Montague was an excellent dancer.

"I would have thought that you would be pleased, beloved." Bonvolio whispered. "Is this not what you wanted?"

"I was truthfully expecting you to be a lead footed ape when it came to dancing." Rosaline replied. Benvolio paused, his hand on her waist flexing slightly.

"And you asked me to dance so I might humiliate myself in front of all of Verona." He shook his head. "Oh my dear Capulet harpy." The words had no malice, in fact he seemed amused. No doubt dreaming of other ways to further torture her. Not that he needed to. This dance was enough. He was so close, his hands steady as he led her through the motions, his hands strong and guiding...his eyes on her as though she were the only person in the room. She tore her gaze away.

"Why else would you have avoided dancing with me at every opportunity." She growled. Too late she realized the petulant whine of her tone. Too late, she recognized that she'd lost whatever higher ground her power play had gained her. Benvolio stopped his motions. She refused to look him in the face, bracing herself for the taunting to begin. After all, she'd confessed to wanting to dance with him.

Her betrothed remained silent and motionless. She hazarded a glance at him. He was looking at her as though he was puzzling something out.

"You...wanted to dance with me?" He murmured, scarcely seeming to believe his question. Rosaline bit her lip. She had two options. She could deny, which would certainly be simpler. Or she could admit that his neglect to her had not gone unnoticed, even if she wasn't sure what it meant yet and that being held against him as they swayed wasn't the worst sensation in the world.

Her silence spoke for her, as even before she could utter a response, Benvolio's face opened and a look of genuine surprise and a flicker of excitement passed over his features. Rosaline ducked her gaze.

"It is you who did not wish to dance with me, Montague." She mumbled. Benvolio glanced around them.

"In truth I had assumed you would prefer another partner." He didn't need to look toward the throne to make her understand who he meant. "I did not wish to dance with one who did not want it of me."

Rosaline squeezed the hand she held in hers before stepping back. "Then how about we do this properly?" She asked. Benvolio arched an eyebrow.

"So I won't need to be caned by my grandfather this time?" Rosaline laughed.

"Tragically, no." She grinned. "I rather like him."

"You, Rosaline Capulet, saying something positive about a Montague." Benvolio's eyes glittered. "I shall alert the town criers."

"Good, then perhaps they can finally find something else to recite besides your horrific poem." She shot back, unwilling to let him have this round. He shook his head before bowing to her, lifting her hand to his lips. She couldn't fight the small gasp as he brushed against her knuckles, his mouth soft and warm.

"My darling harpy." He grinned. "Might I have this dance?"

"Of course, my beloved toad." She curtsied, grinning as he spun her before leading her into the next dance.