Her hand is gently within his, above her head, as finally he spins her, and her dress, a longer skirt than Shirayuki is used to wearing, spins out around her, like the sea welcoming a sailor home. Gentle and yet vibrant, as it brushes along her legs so smoothly, that it is in itself a gentle touch, and then she's coming back around, slipping back into Zen's arms, ready for the next steps, however shaky she still feels they'll be, no matter how used to dancing she gets, no matter how familiar her legs grow with each and every pretty step.
And she moves, legs following his at angles that almost appear to come naturally, though she only has eyes for Zen's eyes, and each and every drop of blue is another little guiding star as he leads her through a dance that he knows far better than she does, a dance that he both teaches her and lives with her, though it's mainly the latter. Each and every swaying step seems to draw them closer and slowly ease them apart for an easy and gentle reunion, as if even the separation wasn't that far.
Each step is a move closer towards him, each second spent holding his hand could be an eternity of hopes and dreams and delights all spread out between them, yet binding them somehow even closer together. And Shirayuki moves, lets her dress move like the sea between them, as if a symbol that together they've overcome more than anyone expected them to, as if distance or oceans or trials are merely steps on the stairs of life. And together, they step up, just as together, Shirayuki steps closer, a swaying step that even takes her by surprise, swooshing her dress's long skirt up, until it gently brushes Zen's legs, and then returns to her. And then, he pulls her back into another spin.
As she spins, her dress flows around her, as calmly and gently as the wind, and then she is returned right back to Zen's arms, for a moment, just a small step is between them, and then, she's ducked down, and Zen is leaning over her. A dip. He dipped her, and her green eyes blink wide and big, but Zen is smiling and from this angle, he's never looked more beautiful. His blue eyes feel almost high enough above her head to become the sky, and his hand around her back holds her so steadily, that she can't help but trust him even more.
And his smile, as playful as it is, is so wide with joy, that Shirayuki almost wants to laugh herself. And yet, it's as if the moment is broken before she can lean up and close the distance, let a dip become a kiss so very easily. It's easy enough to forget that they aren't outside, where the sun shines on them and reminds them even more vividly of their joy, but they are in the palace, practicing, because she'll need to know, and they will need to dance together with the ease of dancers from childhood, regularly dancing and practicing throughout the years.
"Good job, but think of the people around you." Izana's voice is cool and almost steely, and for one, hot, wild moment, Shirayuki wants to curse him out, but doesn't. He's a mood killer of the worst kind, even as he claps, so very slowly.
"What people?" Zen helps her up, and he looks so lost, that Shirayuki wonders if he'd been as stunned when he was holding her into a dip as she'd been.
"The guests, of course." Izana raises two hands up, indicating the rather empty ballroom, as if a solid reminder that it will be full not too many months from now.
"Yeah." Shirayuki's still a little breathless, but at least she's speaking now. Suddenly, she wishes that Obi were more skilled in dance, and would be the one guiding them. He'd be insufferable, but so, so much better than Izana, who seems to wait for the worst moments to be their audience.
"Oh." Zen looks even more embarrassed, "Sorry, Lord Brother."
"I'm not everyone in the room." Izana leans back against the wall, as if challenging his younger brother to picture a packed ballroom.
"Is it less distracting with more people?" Zen finally asks.
"Not really." Izana answers, uncharacteristically helpful for a moment, "But you are a prince, and if she's to be a princess...?"
"I can't kiss my own bride in front of people?" Zen mutters, the sarcastic comment of course doesn't miss Izana's ears.
"Not at that moment. You are to dance, and after the party, you may kiss her. And before the first dance, after your vows, you may kiss her." Izana reiterated one of his whole points for being here.
"How did you manage when you and Haki got married?" Zen muttered, and Shirayuki didn't really mean to smile, but for a moment, she saw brothers in the two, like she'd slowly came to see Kazuki and her relationship. It's surreal, and it's sometimes in the little moments, the arguments, when that is most revealed.
"Very carefully." Izana smiled, and Shirayuki wondered if Obi were also in the room, if he'd ask him if the king snuck a kiss when everyone's back was turned. Shirayuki's smile is the only thing that gives away that thought.
"We should practice again." Shirayuki met Zen's silent response to Izana with a more direct choice.
And Zen's hand slips against hers, a steady grip, and he steps back, slowly guiding her gently into a semi-circle, deliberately pretending his brother isn't in the room, a last ditch effort at defiance in a moment. It's the little ways that he can be defiant, because the big ways are out of the question.
So, Shirayuki follows his lead, still somewhat mindful of Izana in the room as if his interruption, permanently became a warning to her, but with Zen's blue gaze, it's easy enough for the steps to feel like something even better, to feel like this dance was stress relief, a break to spend time together, a stolen moment where they can be themselves.
Slowly, it's as if once more, Izana has slipped out of the room, as if Zen and Shirayuki are lost to a dance that only they know the steps to.