Between War and Peace
Chapter 2: The Ball
It was one of those common balls in Saint Petersburg and Zexion already became extremely bored with the usual crowd of the high society. Neither was she excited and overwhelmed, the way she felt about her very first ball. Zexion sighed and denied a dance to a rather dumb looking fellow (by lying about already being taken for the dance). Larxene was cheerfully chirping with Helene Bezuhova and some other perfectly mindless high-class ladies. Zexion felt a migraine slowly piercing her skulls and decided that it would be best to get away from the stuffy ballroom and have some air.
"You know, it would've been a lot better if you took more from your mother and were more like your sister." A harsh voice made her turn around.
"What do you mean, father?" Zexion crossed her arms and looked into the scarred face of a man in his late forties. Despite the senior age, the man's hair was thick and smooth, of a rich blue color, but darker than Zexion's.
"Your mother always liked to attend all of those different routs and parties. Your sister enjoys it as well, and you? You start looking for someone worth talking with and once there is none of those people to be found, you just loose all interest and stand near a window, looking like you're about to faint." Saïx smirked, revealing pointy yellow teeth.
"Well, I always used to be daddy's little girl" Zexion bowed to her father and walked away.
"You're just making your life harder" said Saïx in an irritated manner, but there still was pride in his voice.
Zexion went to a distant room with large windows overlooking the garden and a little sofa. She already sat here once during a rather tiring and dull ball. She made her way to the window and gazed at the moon and the rare stars, more of which appeared every minute or so. The young woman breathed on the glass and drew a sad face. With a sigh she pressed her forehead to the cold soothing surface and inhaled the chilly air, not filled with perfume scents like in accursed the ballroom.
"And what is such a beautiful flower doing here all alone?" She heard a voice behind her.
"First of all, I am not a plant. Secondly, I assume you are dense, because you are calling me beautiful without even taking a look at my face!" Zexion responded sharply to the voice. She hated those self-proclaimed Casanovas that were so easy to stumble upon in the so-called "high-class" society.
"Well, you're slim figure is beautiful enough already. And I'm pretty damn sure, that an owner of such a dashing figure must have a charming or maybe at least a cute face, love."
"Don't we know each other not well enough for you going around and calling me 'love'? Or do you call every woman you lay your eyes on like this?"
"Only the pretty ones" The man snickered.
"You are a vulgar and impudent man, you should know that" Zexion turned around and faced the person she was talking too. Before her was a well-built man in his late twenties, with blonde hair, a cocky smile and a small beard or badly shaved stubble – Zexion couldn't make it out in the dark.
"See, I was right about you being a pretty flower. I think I'll associate you with a forget-me-not" The man laughed. Zexion raised an eyebrow (a thing she and Larxene used to practiced especially for such occasions when they were about 13 years old) and stared at him, trying to make out the colour of his eyes.
"I see you're not particularly into flowers and compliments" The man sat onto a sofa and took out a cigarette. "But you haven't answered me, darling. Why are you here, all alone and so far away from the fun?"
"I want to be alone and away from there" Zexion sat in the other end of the sofa and rubbed her forehead "All these nuisances: stuffy air, endless noise, loud music….they exhaust me… and now you're here, ruining my comfort" Zexion gazed at his cigarette with disgust.
"Oh, don't worry, love, I'll smoke into another direction" The blonde reached out with his hand and started fidgeting with the lace on the skirt of her dress.
"Cut it out" Zexion pulled her dress away. "Are you drunk or something?"
"Well, I certainly drank something, but I don't remember what exactly and in what amounts"
"And I thought you couldn't get anymore vulgar."
"Oh, c'mon sweetheart, I'm not that bad! See, I can bee a gentleman too. Will you accept my invitation to a dance?"
"First of all, I don't know or even like you. Secondly, I don't dance."
"Luxord Krylov, adjutant in general Kutuzov's army. And you'll like me eventually, I promise. I won't leave you alone until you promise me a dance"
"Are you serious?! I'm at a loss for words. Are you… threatening me?"
"A bit. I'm one hundred percent serious, my dear"
"Fine than. Just one dance, and you don't bother me for the rest of the evening, correct?"
"It's a deal" Luxord smirked. He stood up and held his hand out to Zexion. "May I ask your name, if you persist not to be called 'love' or 'flower'?
"It's Zexion" She stood up, letting him take her hand in his.
"Exellent. Now let's go and show everyone how you dance a waltz".
* * *
Of course he never left her alone that day after the dance was over. Of course she fell for him the very same evening. And then came a myriad of love letters, walks in the park, opera visits, passionate kisses the shade of the garden, countless questions from Larxene and an "I missed you, love" every time. But then came war: Napoleon led his army towards Russia. He had to go.
Zexion sat near an open window and watched the clouds slowly drift over the bright full moon, as though trying to erase it from the sky. At that moment she's like nothing more than too fly away with the clouds and find Luxord, and caress his face, and kiss his eyes…
And he was somewhere there, far away, just an officer on the battlefield. On the day of his departure, when she wiped her tears on his neck, he made a promise to write at every opportunity. And then she screamed at the moving carriage until her throat was sore that she loves him and will wait for him to comeback whatever it takes her. And his profile disappeared into the carriage, and the carriage itself began fading away, but she still stood there.
It has been days since his last letter. Zexion began to feel hopeless.