(Okay, so I did slow dancing already for them, but historical Sheith is the way to my heart. Dammit.)
“May I have this dance?”
Keith stared at Prince Shiro’s outstretched hand, and then at the crowd. It seemed like all eyes were on the two of them, the whole ballroom holding its breath. His heart pounded so hard he could scarcely hear the musicians starting the waltz.
The prince continued to smile softly at him. “Please?” he added.
Keith knew he shouldn’t, but he’d never been able to turn Shiro away for anything. He’d never wanted to.
He took Shiro’s hand and followed him onto the dance floor, resolutely ignoring the stares and whispers of the people surrounding them. He knew what they were saying, anyway: he was only a knight, only a bodyguard, what business did the prince have asking him to dance?
But then Shiro slid his hand around Keith’s waist to the small of his back and pulled him close, and Keith found himself caring a lot less about what others would be saying.
“I’ve been waiting to ask you to dance all night,” Shiro said, sweeping him into the waltz.
Keith looked down and tried to remember the steps from his dance lessons. He didn’t dance often, didn’t feel as sure of himself as he did when he had a sword in his hand. “I imagine there are a lot of people here who are very disappointed about that, Your Highness.”
“It’s my birthday,” Shiro said. “I can ask who I would like to dance, can’t I?”
“You can dance with whoever you’d like even when it isn’t your birthday,” Keith pointed out. “You are the prince, after all.”
“You’d be surprised,” Shiro said softly, and a little sadly.
Keith frowned. “What do you mean?”
The smile fell from his face. “It’s been strongly suggested that I use this ball to find a potential partner.”
Keith felt like he’d swallowed something cold and slimy. “You…they want you to marry.”
“Yes.” Shiro sighed. “The problem is I’ve already found someone. But…even if they’ll have me, I know it will be an uphill battle to convince the council that it’s a good idea.”
Everything in his throat turned to ash. Of course Shiro had found someone. And what was this nonsense about if they’d have him? “They’ll have you,” Keith said fiercely, and tightened his grip on Shiro’s shoulder. “They’d be the greatest fool to turn you away.”
Shiro’s lips twitched up in the slightest smile. “You think so?”
“I have no doubt, Your Highness,” Keith said, even as his heart sank into his feet. “Anyone who finds themselves the object of your affections should count themselves the luckiest person alive.”
“Do you?” Shiro asked.
“Do I what?”
Shiro dipped his head closer. Keith hadn’t thought they could get much closer than waltzing, but suddenly they were so close he couldn’t breathe. “Do you count yourself the luckiest person alive?”
Keith stared at him, because he couldn’t make Shiro’s words make sense in his mind. It was like thinking through very thick mud. “Me?” And then, as the pieces fell into place, “Me?”
A faint blush colored his cheeks, but Shiro did not look away. “If you would have me, yes.”
Keith was very glad Shiro was leading their waltz, because every part of his mind had stopped working and had latched onto the news that he was the one Shiro wanted. “Oh God. It won’t just be an uphill battle. It will be an uphill war.”
Shiro pressed his lips together, like he was fighting a smile. “It will be, yes. But I know it would be worth it. If that was what you wanted. What do you say?”
His heart soared, and Keith threw his arms around Shiro’s neck and pulled him into a kiss in front of everybody in the damn ball. Hang them and their gossip; the man he loved loved him back.
“I’ll take that as a yes, then?” Shiro asked.
“I am not a fool, Your Highness,” Keith said. “Of course it’s yes. Now and forever.”
Shiro leaned in to rest his forehead on Keith’s. “You’re going to have to stop calling me ‘Your Highness,’ you know.”
“I suppose I can learn to call you ‘my lord,’” Keith said.
Shiro laughed softly. “I was hoping you might just call me Shiro.”
“I suppose I can learn that, too,” Keith said, and pulled Shiro–his prince, his betrothed–in for another kiss.
He was indeed the luckiest person alive.