Happy New Year everyone!
Summary Even if it killed her.
POV Third
"Goddammit! Shit! Shit, shit, shit!"
Adrien let out an impatient sigh, eyes fixing to a point above Rose's shoulder as he dully stared into the distance. "You are much more redundant at this than I would've thought."
Christian, sitting on a conveniently placed chaise lounge a few metres away, agreed. Snickering, the Moroi couldn't help but comment. "Yeah, who ever would have pegged that the famous Rose Hathaway's weak point would be ball room dancing."
Rose huffed out an irritated breath. "Shut up! Both of you!"
The bride couldn't help but turn away from her friends, her eyes prickling as uncomfortably as the heeled shoes she wore. The grandiose ballroom they were practising in was radiant, with shiny marble floors, and towering marble pillars that brought ones eyes to the height of the ceiling and the magnificent chandelier dangling from it.
In other words, nothing like the setting of where she was going to marry Dimitri. They were staging the event at a much more humble destination. Rose's eyes softened as she took in the splendour. That didn't mean she didn't want this to be perfect though. The first dance was something Dimitri had been looking forward to practically since he proposed.
Christian and Adrien exchanged a look. "Rose," the latter beckoned. "let's try one more time."
The dhampir sucked in a breath, tugging at the ends of her workout gear. "I wish 'dancing' was a training dummy whose ass I could kick."
Adrien grinned wryly, holding his hand out as they settled into their first position. "Well, as much as I would love to see that, let's focus on you mastering the waltz instead."
Christian snorted in the background, analysing Rose's missteps critically. "So, what, another twenty years or so?"
Rose flipped him the finger as Adrien spun her, the fingers digging into Adrien's skin prompting him to count the beat louder to drown out any more repartee, a smirk covering his face in spite of his mediating. Rose not so accidentally trod on his toes.
It was only three hours later that Rose found herself heading home, her dance shoes secured in the sports bag she found herself lugging, but it felt more like an eternity. Rose swatted at an errant strand of her that had escaped its sweaty pony tail, growling as it stuck to her face.
There wasn't a single thing that could've gone wrong that didn't at that practice. It was the first of many, highlighting how much she needed to work to be able to master the dance she and Dimitri (although it was mostly Yeva's grouching) had decided to do for their first dance.
His family were incredibly adamant on the traditions of their wedding, and Rose was sure, just as sure as she was that her feet had countless blisters and should never be walked upon again, ever, that had Yeva been helping her learn the waltz like she'd originally insisted, Rose would also have no patience or determination left by the first twenty minutes.
At least Christian and Adrien fed her, and although Rose was loathe to admit it, the Royals knew their stuff. And despite the fact she is sure that Lissa would have been a much more accomodating teacher, there was something humiliating about having the Queen to teach her lowly bodyguard such an ingrained part of her upbringing.
The boys were rather flippant with their heritage, and she wouldn't feel bad kicking their asses when they took their teasing about her horrendous dancing too far. There was a big part of her that felt smug about the bruises that would undoubtedly be lingering on their feet from her heels, sure to bring them just as much pain as her own injuries.
Opening the door to her home sluggishly, Rose crashed her shoulder into the doorframe, her bag pushing forward with the momentum to land on the floor in front of her. "Ow." she muttered bitterly.
"Rose?"
The aforementioned guardian glanced up tiredly. There he was, her groom. Her groom was absolutely, definitely not in any severe risk of never being able to walk again, because his crazy hag of a grandma could apparently see into the future and knew her favourite grandson would actually use the stupid technique, leaving his fiancé to suffer alone.
At Dimitri's concerned look, Rose sighed internally. Who was she kidding? Little Dimitri was probably the most patient, easiest to teach child there could be. And even if he had needed to learn it now for the first time, he would still excel at it.
"I need a nap." she ended up declaring, wanting to chase the worried gaze her fiancé had secured to her. Knowing him, he would immediately regret his agreement and excitement for choosing the waltz if he was aware how much she truly hated it.
As Rose walked, attempting very hard to not drag her feet or limp, past Dimitri she couldn't help but feel a burst of confidence. She would get this right if it killed her. This was important to him. And she refused to allow him to give it up for her.
Five minutes later, once Rose had come back into the living room, her resolve strengthened tenfold and her heart absolutely melted all at once. Dimitri gave a small, appreciative smile from his perch on the floor in front of the couch, a small tub of warm water and lotion next to him.
"Come here," he insisted quietly, his eyes dark with love.
Rose practically flopped onto the couch, groaning in a blissful whirl of pleasure as he took her ankles gently and placed them in the water. "You. Are. Amazing." she moaned, throwing her head back against the couch.
She practically gasped when he started rubbing slow circles into one foot, her heavenly treatment causing unexpected tears to glisten under her closed eyelids. She threw an arm over her face, her muscles relaxing as her beloved gently massaged her aching feet.
Dimitri chuckled, causing Rose's eyes to flit towards him. "Anything I can to help, Roza." his voice was slightly amused, an undercurrent of guilt lying there.
Rose stared at him for a long moment, her eyes hooded. "I'm practically a certified master already. This is nothing."
Dimitri smiled up at her softly, gliding his fingers over her calf in a caress for a moment before flitting back down to the curvature of her injured feet. He hummed gently in response, the understanding acquiescence and his loving ministrations causing Rose to stare at him with her heart practically bursting.
She was overflowing with her love for him. Biting her lip harshly to prevent the tightening of her throat to continue, Rose vowed she would never, ever step on his toes. She would make their dance perfect, even if it killed her.
