Rifiuto: Not Mirena
A/N: The waltz danced in this chapter is the Norsk Vals, a traditional Norwegian waltz brought over to America in the 18th and 19th centuries.- Licia
As the music and revelry swelled in the ballroom, the younger of the Arendellian princesses made her way out to the balcony in search of her sister, but voices stopped her. Darting behind the silk drapes pulled aside to allow the doors to open, she listened, straining against the music to hear and recognize the speakers. She recognized not the male's voice, though he didn't sound much older than her-
Familiar laughter reached her ears, and she gasped, covering her mouth to keep from crying out. "I did not know that one could balance upon a horse's back-"
"With a touch of practice, Prinsesse, and a trusting horse such as Sitron-" The laughter sounded again, and slowly, the younger girl peeked around her hiding place. She could barely make out the shimmering fabric of her sister's skirts as she leaned against the stone balcony, and caught a flash of a white dress coat as her sister's companion waved his arm.
A moment passed, before she glanced back; the music wafted towards her, and she bit her lip. She had told Papa that she would go bring her sister in from the balcony for a dance, and had expected to find her alone, gazing at the stars as she so often did, only to find her in the company of a young man. I promised Papa. Besides, he could be wanting to harm her, or take advantage of her.
With that reasoning in her head, she left her hiding place and stepped out onto the balcony. Neither heard nor noticed her presence, which gave her time to study the pair. They were facing each other, leaning against the balcony's cold stone, enraptured with each other as they talked. The snow white of her sister's hair shone in the darkness, a different type of shine and sparkle to the tiara in her hair or the dark blue of the court dress she wore. It was an updated pattern of traditional Arendellian court dress worn back in the early days of the country and dynasty- with it's long, bell-style skirt with the white Arendellian crocus embroidered along the hem, and the open-shouldered, corseted bodice with the long, slit sleeves- it was a modern take on the traditional bunad that women often wore for special occasions. It was very similar to her own gown, though slightly more elaborate.
Because her sister was the hereditary heir to the throne of Arendelle, the traditional brooch was replaced with a simple sapphire necklace about her throat. It had shone in the glass of the mirror as Mama had slipped it around her sister's neck before the ball, and she had not envied her sister having to wear such a precious jewel about her throat, perfectly content was she with the simple silver brooch at her breast. Mama had then done her sister's hair up in an elegant twist- after attempting to pull her younger daughter's own unruly curls into a twist and failing spectacularly- before placing the diamond tiara within her snow white locks. She had been the most beautiful woman in the ballroom- next to Mama of course. Though they were both daughters of the current King and Queen, the court dresses they wore were vastly different- though both were takes on traditional bunad, her sister's was much more elaborate than hers, representing her status as next in line for the throne.
Her sister's giggles broke her thoughts, and she looked up, sucking in a soft breath, watching as the pair shifted closer towards each other. Something gnawed at her stomach; she didn't want to break the calm of the balcony, for her sister genuinely seemed to be enjoying this young man's company, but if she didn't return to the ballroom with her sister for at least one dance, Papa would have a conniption. Taking a deep breath, she bit the inside of her cheek and spoke up midst her sister's laughter. "Elsa?"
They didn't hear her. She tried again. "Elsa?"
That time got through, as she watched her sister's back suddenly go rail straight, head jerking up in a way similar to the body jerking in spasm after a beheading- quick and sharp and soon gone. The young man she was talking to cast his gaze over her sister's shoulder, and after a moment, the girl turned, meeting her gaze. "Anna? Wh.. what are you doing out here?"
The girl glanced between the pair, trying not to draw conclusions from the sight of their bodies, their hands, their heads- having been so close together in conversation. "I... I was..." She glanced at the man before her gaze darted to her sister again. "Papa asked me to fetch you." Best to go with the truth. "He says you need to have at least one dance tonight. Please, Elsa."
The Crown Princess screwed her mouth into a knot, shifting it to the side with a wrinkle of her nose before sighing. "Very well, Anna." She turned back to her companion. "I don't want to have to go; the last thing I want to do is take a turn around the ballroom with some stuffy old count." She glanced over her shoulder. "I don't dance. Papa knows this."
Her companion grinned softly, green eyes lighting. "Don't or can't?"
The whispers began as soon as she stepped onto the dancefloor on the prince's arm. Comments about the beauty the Crown Princess possessed- such pale skin, such deep blue eyes, such light hair! What an absolute image of sheer beauty in its most innocent form!- and the gown she wore- how it shimmered in the candlelight, as though crafted from ice- to the sudden whispers of the young man she was dancing with- as handsome as she is beautiful, what a strikingly gorgeous pair they make! He appears to be quite taken with the Princess, will he ask to court her before the ball ends? Which country is he here as the representative of? His hair is too like flame to be of any of the countries to the North, nor the East- but the young couple ignored the whispers, for they were focused solely on each other as they waltzed.
Her sister watched from the side, with the other guests, her sister's words loud in her head. If Papa wishes me to dance at least once tonight, then I will do so with a partner of my own choosing. She had then slipped her hand into the crook of her companion's arm and allowed him to lead her back into the ballroom, Anna trailing slowly behind.
As they had taken the floor, others had quickly moved to the sides, allowing the Crown Princess to have her dance with her mysterious companion. She had glanced at the musicians, nodding once to the conductor, who returned the nod before turning back to the group of musicians. Moments passed, before the strains of a traditional Arendellian waltz began. The young Crown Princess glanced at her partner, smiling softly. "Let me lead for now." He nodded, and they began, the soft strains of music ringing out through the ballroom as the heiress to the throne of Arendelle led the young prince in the dance.
Once comfortable with it, he took over leading her, and they twirled about the ballroom floor, gazes locked upon each other. At one point, during the waltz, he walked her back, as was part of this dance, and his hand sliding further around her waist to pull her closer. She smiled at him as he stepped back and spun her before pulling her back into his embrace. "You are quite the quick study, Prince Johannes."
He chuckled softly. "Please, Hans, Prinsesse."
A blush colored her cheeks, and she bit her lip. "Very well." She met his gaze. "Elsa."
His smile lit up his emerald eyes. "El-" He stopped at the feel of a tap on his shoulder, and he turned to find the Arendellian king asking silently to cut in. "Your Majesty." A moment passed as he relinquished his hold on her and stepped back, bowing to the king, before turning to the princess. Still holding her hand, he bowed to her and brought it to his lips. "Thank you for the dance, Prinsesse."
As he stepped away and watched the king take his oldest daughter into his arms as other couples slowly returned to the dance floor, he couldn't help feeling as though a thousand lifetimes had passed in what was mere moments. The light in her eyes as they'd waltzed had matched his own, the smile she graced him with a mirror copy of his, the feel of her petite frame against his as thrilling as the deepest of kisses.
As the music changed into one of a traditional folk dance, and he watched the men lift the women- watched the king lift his daughter easily and swing her around as was part of the dance. "Oh, Papa!" Her laughter rang out in the ballroom, catching the ear of every partygoer- Arendellian courtier and visiting dignitary alike- and he watched as the skirt of her gown swung with her. In those few minutes she was in the air, hands resting on her father's shoulders, her gaze found his, and she smiled.