The King of the dance

Music. Lights. Bright colours flying through the air. Twirling skirts. Swirling air drenched in the smell of roses and chocolate.
Her feet tapped out the rhythm, swaying and gliding her body to and fro, her eyes closed and mind oblivious to the stares following her around the room.
Hour after hour she danced, the music filling her with bursting energy, urging her on. The crowd thinned out, ladies finding rest in corners to gossip about something or other, the men filling themselves with the refreshment lining the banquet tables.
Still she danced.
One after another the guests dispersed, leaving to their homes and their families. Soon it was only her and the musicians, and eventually even they packed up their instruments and left.
It was only her.

And him.

The music continued to echo in her ears. His arms surrounded her in a loving embrace, guiding her each and every move. Willingly she followed him, lost in his gaze. She never wanted to stop. And she never had to.
Others might not recognize him now, but she knew exactly who he was. The fact that he, the King, would love her amazed her, and at times even made her weep. With joy, of course.
He loved her, and that’s all that mattered.
She loved him,
So she danced.

For Him.

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