ROBIN. [ S1 complete and S2 in the making! ]

The Dance of Kavira

"Rise," 

echoed the Emperor's voice, resonating through the vast chamber. A hush fell over the room, the murmur of a thousand conversations dissolving into a reverent silence. Silken skirts swished and jewels clinked softly as the assembled nobility rose in unison, a sea of vibrant colors swaying as one.

Emperor Regulus Noah Agnes is a figure of imposing stature. His crimson robes, embroidered with shimmering gold threads depicting a soaring phoenix, whispered of power and legacy. He had jet-black hair and mesmerizing dark blue eyes. 

His wife, Empress Valentina, a vision of grace in a gown the color of twilight, adorned with constellations of glittering diamonds. Her long, white hair reached past her hips, elegantly adorned in the finest jewels and was bathed in the golden light of the dais. Her pink eyes resembled that of rubies and were like jewels of glass. 

As one, the Emperor and Empress was seated to their platinum thrones, the dais bathed in the warm glow of strategically placed candelabras.

A respectful silence held for a beat before the ten Concubines, dressed in silks that shimmered with a thousand hues, emerged from a side entrance. Their movements were a practiced dance of elegance as they glided across the polished floor and dipped into a synchronized bow before their Emperor and Empress. 

Once acknowledged with a curt nod from the Emperor, they discreetly took their places around the perimeter of the dais to their respectable thrones.

Amongst them, the royal children, adorned in their finery, straightened their postures, pride and elegance flickering in their eyes.

Here, in this grand ballroom, there was no room for frivolity, only the ever-present Game of Politics.

Every move, every word, held the weight of their bloodline and reputation. 

Failure was not an option, its price a swift and merciless downfall.

With a final flourish, The moment of truth had arrived. All eyes turned towards the future heirs as the fourteen Princes and Princesses rose, anticipation crackling in the air. 

Each, in turn, would approach the dais, presenting a tribute to their parents - perhaps a poem penned in their own hand, a rare bloom from a distant land, or a piece of exquisite artwork. Prince Volkov, returning from his recent expedition, proudly offered an entire emerald mine. Each presentation was a display of respect, a testament to their lineage, and a crucial opportunity for the Emperor and Empress to assess their progress and potential favor.

However, the emperor gave a curt nod. There was small recognition received.

Besides the concubines' as well as the Emperor and his Empress' thrones, there was a throne similar to the design of the Emperor and Empress' Thrones. 

This throne was reserved for the Crowned Heir to the Throne.

At long last, it was Y/n's turn.

Walking elegantly with silent steps, her (h/c) hair cascaded down her back with simple, yet beautifully adorned hairpins. 

The nobles grew silent. Each looked at her with disdain. Now, the ballroom was filled whispers of insults were thrown at her. 

A hand at her chest as the other held the side of her dress, she curtsied.

"Greetings, Imperial Father and Mother." Y/n spoke as she rose softly and elegantly. 

"Today marks a very special occasion," Y/n continued, her voice unwavering despite the hostile whispers. "It is the anniversary of your union, Father Emperor and Mother Empress. May your reign continue to be blessed with wisdom, prosperity, and unwavering love for each other."

The Nobles stood a fair distance. The princes and princesses who had already presented themselves also stood among them, waiting for their rival's present.

"For your anniversary," Y/n spoke, her (e/c) eyes, usually so bright, mirrored the chill of the Emperor's gaze for a fleeting moment. But then, with a flicker of defiance, they sparked with the light and warmth of the ballroom. "I would like to present to you 'The Dance of Kavira'."

The name, whispered in confused, hushed tones, hung heavy in the air. 

"The Dance of Kavira? I haven't heard of it."

"What is it?"

"It is most likely related to some deceased nation or tribe - now under the dynasty's rule."

 The Dance of Kavira wasn't just a performance; it was a legend. A forgotten one, in fact. The Emperor's mother was the Late Empress. Her lineage had Kavira's blood in it. The former Nation of Kavira. However, she was the young Duchess in the Agnes Empire.

Not many except the former citizens of Kavira know much of their traditions. And it was said that the Emperor loved his mother dearly. So of course, the Dance of Kavira was a great deal. However, despite the Late Empress' lineage, only few were truly aware of Kavira.

The Emperor's face remained an unreadable mask, but a flicker of something, perhaps curiosity, perhaps annoyance, danced in his dark blue eyes. The Empress, however, a hint of longing crossing her features, seemed captivated by Y/n's words.

"Would you honor me," Y/n concluded, her voice a quiet challenge, "by allowing me to perform this dance for you?"

A curt nod from the Emperor served as his only response. "Do so as you please," he rumbled, his voice heavy with indifference. The Empress, however, offered a flicker of warmth in her eyes, a simple nod of encouragement that spoke volumes.

Y/n, her poise unwavering, took a deep breath and stepped into the center of the vast chamber. 

The musicians changed their music to Y/n's dance. Y/n, unfazed, began to hum a melody, a haunting tune that seemed to rise from the very fabric of the room. It was a melody unlike anything anyone had ever heard, both melancholic and hopeful, filled with an otherworldly grace.

Slowly, her body began to move. It wasn't a dance of grand steps and elaborate flourishes, but a series of graceful sways and dips, her movements mirroring the rhythm of the hum. Her gown, a gorgeous creation, seemed to come alive, billowing and swirling around her like a phantom wind. 

With each step, the hum grew louder, filling the chamber with a mesmerizing melody that resonated deep within the souls of those present.

The nobles, initially skeptical, found themselves captivated. The whispers died down, replaced by a stunned silence. They watched, mesmerized, as Y/n weaved a tapestry of movement and sound, a dance that seemed to defy gravity and logic.

Whether she had achieved her true goal remained to be seen, but one thing was certain: in that moment, she had captivated the hearts and minds of everyone in the ball.

End of Chapter VIII | The Dance of Kavira
Word count - 1075