Her glance drifts toward the dancing Ælfen-Majesty. The irises of Elva turn white as she visualizes the unseen—above the Queen's head, a faint semi-dragon flame swirls, conjured earlier by Elva's own gift. Without anyone else noticing, Alf swiftly severs the subconscious cord tethering her to the vision, and she blinks back to herself with a small shake of her head.
Elva: [That's strange. I felt like someone was peering through me.]
The red-haired ælfen steals a look at the mischievous Crown Prince, only to find him busy in quiet talk with a eunuch.
Elva: (shaking her head) Hsh. I must be overthinking it.
When the dance ends, the Ælfen-Majesty steps away from the floor, glowing, and makes her way to her eldest son.
Alf: Mother.
Ælfen-Majesty: 😊 Son, w—
Alf: Mother, are you well? Are you hurting anywhere? Surely you know it is unsafe to—
Ælfen-Majesty: 😒 My daughter is a benevolent ælfen… and, I must admit, a marvelous feast planner.
Alf: Daughter? That isn't—
Ælfen-Majesty: She arranged all this for me, and she did it in a way that even the servants feel welcome, not inferior. Look how happy they are—even Ernest.
Ernest, meanwhile, is busy in his own world, playing alongside Elva.
Ælfen-Majesty: And it wipes away the sorrow in my soul. She's a good one, Alf.
Alf studies her quietly for a long five seconds.
Alf: Thank you, Mother… 😑 for dodging my scolding.
Ælfen-Majesty: Nah 😁. Ooh, why don't you two dance, hmm?
Alf lets out a faint snort of a smile.
Court Lady In: (calling out) Lady Elva!
Elva turns to the sound, then makes her way over, after playfully pinching Ernest's cheek and patting his shoulder.
Elva: Wait for me.
Ernest: (nods)
Left alone, Ernest looks around, then joins a small group of male servants in chatter.
Elva: Sama Lēofa , you needed me?
Alf: Sama Lēofa ?
Ælfen-Majesty: Yes. Why don't you and this mischief dance for us?
Elva glances away quickly after catching Alf's calm gaze on her.
Elva: (waving hands) No, no, no. I can't.
Ælfen-Majesty: Why not?
Elva: 😅 I don't dance well.
Court Lady In: Oh, come now! Who wants to see Lady Elva dance?
Guests (majority): Us!
Guests (minority): Yeah!
Elva: Sama Lēofa … I truly don't know how to dance 😅.
Ælfen-Majesty: Hm? How come?
Elva: Although—I can dance the "Tap Way, Step Seven."
Ælfen-Majesty: No way. That's our folksmen's hardest dance.
Elva: I would be delighted to show it to Sama Lēofa … though I've no tap instruments.
Just then, Bob and three other fellows swing the doors open.
Bob: Do not be anxious, Lady Elva—we are here to help.
Elva: 😳 A… How the lawks did you know I needed that?
Ælfen-Majesty: Oh, now that we have music—you dance, my daughter, dance! 😄
Elva finally gives in.
Ælfen-Majesty: Make her more dazzling.
Elva: Hm?
Soon she steps onto the center floor, her attire gleaming. Her beauty leaves the hall stunned—even the Duke of Veil Village loses himself in a daze, only snapped back by quick head flicks from Alf and Princess Raina.
The beat begins slow. Elva's hands sway with the rhythm, then as the music quickens, so do her movements—smooth, entrancing, in perfect sync. The guests are awestruck… even Raina, though she hides it well.
Ernest, watching closely, tries to mimic her steps. She pulls him beside her, showing him the easier moves. But he falters, creating instead a silly, clumsy dance of his own. The hall bursts into laughter—even Ernest joins in. Amused, Elva copies his style, drawing more cheer, then tugs others onto the floor until the hall is full of playful, clumsy tap-dancers.
It becomes a joyous sight—Imperial Prince Alf quietly smiling at the spectacle.
Amid the merriment, the Royal Commandant slips in and whispers to Alf. Whatever he says makes the Crown Prince's eyes sharpen. Elva notices as the Dragon Successors leave swiftly. Determined, she taps her way off the floor and dashes after them.
Elva: Fast walkers, wait up!
Almost upon them, she misses a step. Luckily, Balin's arms catch her—one under her abdomen, the other at her side—steadying her before she falls.
Elva: Oof. Thanks, Balin.
She gives him a quick hug that startles him at first—then earns a smile.
Duke Balin: You danced wel
l.
Elva: 😳 You praised me? (Gasps) It's finally happening, aye 🤭.
Duke Balin: 😄
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