Disclaimer: In a twisted kind of way, they are mine. Why? Cuz I want them to be lol.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: One dance. Sounds simple? Nothing ever is. It's short but angsty so be warned.
Distribution: You know the drill. My site, aelita99.tripod.com, if you want it, take it but let me know.
Author's Notes: I didn't use names but I think it's pretty clear who I'm talking about.
***

The dance floor was covered with a thick cloud of diaphanous smoke. Only two or three couples found their escape swaying to the mellow sounds of music. Singer's voice, gentle yet strong, feminine and sexy, carried through the ballroom easily, distracting him from harsh reality but not from his goal.

He stood silently in the corner, leaning his tall frame on the wall, observing everything around him. There were at least thirty young ladies, graciously lurking around the dance floor, most accompanied by men, approximately his age and yet hundreds of years younger.

They all, including him, were wearing masks. Some flirtatiously revealing more than they were hiding, some covering entire faces. His was somewhat in the middle, dark material hugging the area around his eyes like second skin, doing almost nothing to distort sharp, aristocratic features of his face, only distinctly contrasting with the pale skin of his cheeks and forehead.

He glanced at the clock across the room and had to strain his eyes to make out the numbers in the twilight. It was late. She was late.

He noticed her the first time she appeared at the palace, barely a couple of luna-cycles ago, yet it felt like an eternity to him. She was bright, beautiful and lively, almost making him forget about the horrors he witnessed and lived. His torturous consuming nightmares transformed into soft loving dreams revolving around her. He became calmer, more peaceful and accepting, every now and then shocking those around him with something they haven't seen in a long time - a smile on his face.

A petite female form, dressed in white sweeping gown, passed a few feet away but he barely cast her a glance. He didn't need to. He knew she wasn't the one he was waiting for. It could've been twice as many people in thrice as much space, he still would've felt her the second she walked in. He often questioned himself if it was the same for her, knowing in advance that it wasn't.

He was careful. He made sure she never knew he was watching her. No one did. It would've been too dangerous, too condemning.

He pondered if she'd be wearing white. It seemed fitting. Tonight was the Celebration of Rebirth. Rebirth of Hope. White was the logical and obvious choice. Everywhere he looked, he saw white, even if it mutated into grayish tone in the darkness of the air.

He was probably the only one blending almost perfectly into the shadows, for he saw what the rest of them refused to accept. That for something to be reborn, it had to die first. His choice of clothing wasn't a rebellion, just the appropriate for him choice.

Black, silky shirt hugged his broad shoulders and cascaded freely around his upper torso. One didn't need to be particularly observant to see the toned muscles under the thin fabric. The shirt was tucked into black fitting pants. The only flash of color, besides his skin, was a thick silver chain around his neck. The angle of it showed that there was a rather heavy charm hanging off of it but it was hidden under the shirt.

He felt the presence of the ones closest to his heart and remembered that they wore black too. None of them discussed it, but neither was surprised when they met minutes before the Celebration begun.

He wondered if the color of garments would give away their true identities. He doubted. Somehow he believed that the rest of the inhabitants in the palace would close their eyes and pretend not to know, for the feeling of guilt might ruin their Celebration. He didn't care for them truly, but he wasn't sure he wanted her to know.

He grew more restless with every passing second. Time was his worst enemy tonight, even more heartless and unmerciful then those waiting for him downstairs.

There is was. He felt the distinct vibrations carry through the air. Almost electric charge shot throughout his system and he felt his body respond with desperate urgency and desire. He straightened his posture and allowed his senses to lead him to her.

He froze when he saw her.

She surprised him. He should've known she would. Dark crimson corset looked almost black as it wrapped tightly around her tiny waist and supported her breasts. A number of skirts of matching color, each ending at different length and angle, flowed around her. They were translucent enough for him to make out the outlines of her long, gorgeous legs even in the lack of light, yet managed to cover her modestly. Golden hair cascaded to her waist in soft unconfined curls. Her mask was almost the replica of his, except for the color, which matched that one of her dress.

He watched her from not too afar. She came with her beloved... no, he refused to accept that. Not beloved but betrothed. He watched as her betrothed leaned closer to her and whispered something funny into her ear, a shiny smile giving her face a radiant appearance. He silently gazed as she unsuccessfully tried to pull her companion to the dance floor. He waited patiently, knowing their routine, until her partner, who joined his friends in a conversation, left her alone. And then he made his move.

***

She leaned lightly on one of the columns that surrounded the dance floor. Oh, Goddess of Beginnings, how she loved to dance. But her betrothed considered it a waste of precious time and valuable energy. She settled for observing others, already feeling the burning eyes of the one on her. She didn't know who he was, often wondered but never achieved catching him in the act. She supposed she shouldn't even be sure whether it was a he or a she, but she was.

Tonight felt slightly different. She felt the elevated heaviness of the gaze, enhanced desperation and uncertainty, almost fear.

Tonight was the night when everything will change. She knew she should be afraid or at the very least worried, but she was impatient rather, almost unsure if the anticipation came from him or her.

Someone... the one... he came closer, stopping inches away from her. She closed her eyes and reminded herself to breathe when his fingers gently traced the naked skin of her upper arm. She felt him lean closer and shivered when his warm breath caressed the sensitive flesh of her neck as he spoke softly.

"May I have this dance, milady?"

Her voice was lost somewhere in another dimension, along with her common sense, because instead of acting like a proper engaged lady should, she simply nodded and placed her fingers into his hand. He tightened his hold on her and walked on the dance floor backwards, not taking his eyes off of her, pulling her after him. She followed gracefully, still afraid to look up at his face.

One of his arms wrapped around her waist, the warmth of it quickly seeping through the thin material of her dress and comforting her. He bent his left arm lightly behind his back, as the dance required.

In a haze, she followed his example and tried to force herself into the accurate dance position, left hand resting gently on his shoulder, right... damn the appropriate position. Who cares if her skirts are raised to the proper angle? She needed to touch him as much as she could. She rested her right hand on his waist and looked up, her eyes wide open awaiting his reaction.

His lips curved in a tiny, warm smile. If he noticed, and she was sure he did, he didn't let on and started sliding on the floor. Her body, trained by hours of lessons, reacted immediately and smoothly. His hold on her tightened almost involuntarily, bringing her tiny, fragile frame closer to his stronger one.

Somewhere in the back of her mind a tiny alarm went off. Her betrothed was in the hall and she knew he wouldn't approve of her dancing fairly intimately with a stranger. And yet she couldn't bring herself to care. Her whole being was filled with a somewhat strange yet incredibly pleasant exhilaration. She felt that if it weren't for his steady grip on her, she'd float away.

Her anxious gaze moved a little bit higher, finally the sparkling green of her eyes locking in a loving embrace with the melting hazel of his. And everything else disappeared. Nothing existed apart from them and music.

They moved in perfect harmony, knowing instinctively each other's next move without even realizing it.

She knew him.

She was sure of it.

She knew those seductive lips.

She knew those passionate ageless eyes.

If she could only remember...

"Do I know you?" her voice was gentle and inquisitive.

"May be from a previous lifetime."

She knew his voice. It was soft, sensual, tamed, but she felt it didn't sound like that ordinarily. Those intonations were for her only. For everyone it was authoritative, gruff. She recalled that, why couldn't she remember the rest?

He tensed. He didn't need to see them to know that they were here. It was time. His precious seconds of absolute blissfulness were over. He'd give anything for just a few more but his choice was made long in advance. It wasn't under his control anymore. He had less than a moment to say his farewell and he had no idea how.

She felt the sudden change in his demeanor and intuitively realized what it meant. He took a step away from her, his hand lingering on her waist, as if he didn't want to let go.

"Why?"

His smile was sad, bringing unwelcome tears to her eyes.

"You'll know soon."

Her voice was wavering, as fear and confusion swirled in her mind.

"Will I see you again?"

He tilted toward her and placed a chaste kiss on her forehead.

"May be in the next lifetime."

She shivered and wrapped her hands around her waist, suddenly cold, as she watched him turn around and walk away, toward the giant golden doors. It was when she saw him join three others when the realization of who he really was finally hit her.

She suspected it was lingering deep down since the instant he approached her, but she refused to accept it then, desperately afraid of the finality of it. Now she didn't have the choice.

The Royal Four.

He was one of the Royal Four.

And she even knew which one. The one she's been dreaming about, since the moment she laid her eyes on him. The one she cried over when she heard the news. The one for whom she wore the color of blood tonight.

She felt the legs quiver under her and dug her nails into the palms of her hands with all her might. The sharp pain lessened the sudden dizziness and cleared the fog that wrapped around her brain.

The Celebration of Rebirth.

She could understand why the nation wanted to celebrate the new beginnings. She grasped why they wanted to rejoice the future rebirth of their heroes.

What she couldn't comprehend was why the nation refused to cry in honor of the same heroes, who agreed to give up their lives to grant them those beginnings. Why they refused to mourn the four people who will die willingly tonight so that their essence... their soul... the very same thing that made them who they are... could be transferred into four tiny bundles of hope, to be send to a distant blue speck that could be barely seen on the starry sky on a clear night.

She watched him embrace a young tall woman with flowing blond locks, she figured the Princess, his betrothed and another one of the condemned. She didn't feel jealousy because, no matter how inexplicably it sounded after exchanging less than ten sentences with him, she was absolutely positive where his true love lay. But she couldn't stop the feeling of agonizing, numbing pain from spreading through her heart, mind and soul. The feeling of sorrow not only for him, but for all Four of them.

Three more people, probably the scientists, joined the Royal Four. One motioned toward the lab and the group took off.

She knew he'd turn around for a last glance of her. He didn't disappoint her. She gathered all her strength and stood proud, smiling at him. She saw him smile back and mouthed his own words back to him.

"In the next lifetime. I'll be waiting."

And only after the doors closed and the fireworks started, signaling the beginning of the Procedure, she collapsed on the cold, marble floor, feeling the part of her she never knew existed dying along with him, while the rest of the world rejoiced, obliviously blind to its cruelty.

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