Summary: A little AU scene of the banquet the night before the final battle.
“Kenna?”
“Hmm?”
“Kenna!”
Kenna looks up, startled, to see Dom grinning at her cheekily. “You know, if you look at those battle plans any harder, they might catch on fire,” he says.
“Maybe if you’re looking at them,” Kenna laughs.
“The banquet is underway. You’re the guest of honor. Come on.”
Dom all but drags her out of the war room, Kenna protesting as he shuts the door behind them. “But I have to-“
“You said yourself we all need to unwind and relax before tomorrow,” Dom says firmly. “So go. Eat. Drink. Dance. Maybe slap Luther if he pisses you off.”
Kenna smirks. “Don’t tempt me.”
The banquet is in full swing, everyone gathered breaking into raucous cheering and applause when Kenna enters the room. As worried as she is about tomorrow, this banquet is just what everyone needed. The food is delicious, as always, the drinks flowing freely. Kenna eats, has one drink (which Val of course gives her grief for), and circulates the room. She doesn’t slap Luther, though she’s tempted by his arrogant smirk and comments about her mother. But she catches a glimpse of Diavolos at the other end of the room, and the grin he shoots her calms her down enough that she decides to just walk away from Luther.
There’s a noticeable rise in the volume in the room when people start dancing, and Kenna smiles as she watches Annelyse and Raydan whirl by. Tevan asks Zenobia to dance, her face turning nearly as red as her hair, and Kenna laughs when she hears her mutter “Gods, just kill me” as she follows him onto the dance floor. Kenna makes her way through the room and sits down near Diavolos.
“You don’t dance?” she asks.
“Oh, I dance,” he says confidently. “I’m a great dancer. Just not the night before a battle. Too tense.”
His foot taps rhythmically to the music, his fingers fidgeting with his sword belt.
“Hmm. That’s too bad,” Kenna says.
“Why’s that?”
“I was hoping you’d dance with me,” she answers casually.
Diavolos grins. “Well. You are the Queen. It would be incredibly rude of me to turn you down.”
He stands, holding his hand out to her. She slips her hand into his, liking the feeling as he squeezes her fingers and leads her onto the floor. Diavolos wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her in close, his other hand keeping a steady grip on hers.
“Relax,” he murmurs.
Kenna scowls. “I am relaxed.”
Diavolos raises an eyebrow. “I’ve seen people about to be trampled by a horse more relaxed than this.”
That makes her laugh, the tension draining out of her muscles.
“Much better,” Diavolos says as he twirls her.
He really is a good dancer, Kenna muses. He leads her through the steps of dance after dance with ease, and she wonders how he’d gotten so good at this.
“You look worried,” Diavolos says after a while, spinning her out and then pulling her back against his chest.
Oh.
He feels good behind her, his chest solid and warm.
“Just thinking,” she says, purposely avoiding the curious looks of people as they sway for a minute before he twirls her back out again.
“About?”
You.
“Some of the battle plans for tomorrow.”
Diavolos dips her, grinning as she laughs, then pulls her back up and releases her hand as the dance comes to an end.
He offers to take a look at the plans, and even when she protests him leaving the banquet early, he insists he doesn’t mind. So they slip off to the war room, and Diavolos studies the plans she’s questioning, his brow furrowed as he concentrates and makes suggestions.
They spend more time reviewing them than she means to. She’s vaguely aware of people passing by the war room, laughing and talking loudly as they head off to bed for the evening, and tells herself she’ll go up in a minute. Eventually Diavolos tugs the plans away from her and tells her she needs to get some sleep.
“In a minute,” she says absentmindedly, looking at another troop arrangement.
“Kenna,” Diavolos says.
“Hmm?”
“You need to sleep.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Are you listening?”
“Mm-hmm.” She distractedly slides the piece of paper up and grabs another one.
“I’m going to have Zenobia fight tomorrow.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“And I told our troops they could sleep in.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“And gave my father back command of the Abanthus troops.”
“Mm-hmm.”
Diavolos tucks his finger under her chin, turning her head to look at him.
“Good night, Kenna,” he murmurs.
He bends down and presses a quick kiss to her lips.
“Good night,” she answers, absentmindedly kissing him back, then turning back to the battle plans.
She hears Diavolos chuckle as he leaves. She’s looking at where they have the Thorngate archers positioned again, when she suddenly stops, lifting her head up to stare at the door to the war room.
“Did you just…” she trails off, bringing her hand up to her lips.
She hurriedly opens the door, nearly running right into Diavolos. He’s waiting outside the door, leaning up against the wall casually.
“Did you just kiss me good night?” Kenna asks.
“I did. I was a little worried you didn’t even notice,” he says with a smirk.
“I noticed,” she replies. “I definitely noticed.”
She smiles as he steps closer to her.
“Good. Because I want to kiss you again.”