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One-two-three; One-two-three; One-two-three.

The tune was charming at first, a simple melody in the background of Vanha's day. By the third consecutive afternoon, she'd heard enough.

Even sleep provided little relief, as her dreams choreographed themselves to its rhythm. Exhausted and exasperated, Vanha went hunting for the source of the sound, prowling the halls of Fortemps Manor while humming softly to herself.

The family's ancestral home corridors seemed a never-ending maze of mulled wine walls dotted with polished mahogany doors. Vanha paused in front of one of them, listening for the now-familiar music. She knocked politely on the solid wood before cracking the door open and peering inside.

Lord Emmanellain held an elegantly dressed young Elezen woman in his arms. He cradled her right hand in his left; his right hand inched its way from her hip to her bottom.

"Lord Emmanellain, your father engaged my services as a dance tutor, not a courtesan," the woman said with an exasperated sigh. She firmly placed his hand on her waist.

"I wouldn't dream of treating you like a courtesan, Mistress de Vauclaire," Emmanellain said.

Lips pursed, she eyed him with suspicion. At last, she gave an almost imperceptible nod. "Shall we continue, then?"

Vanha crept into the room as the pair moved together with the music. The dance seemed uncomplicated at first; one, two, three. Then, Emmanellain altered their steps, steering Mistress de Vauclaire counterclockwise around the room. Her skirts came to life -- a flower blooming around her and swaying in time to the music.

Vanha gasped, mesmerized by the elegance before her. The dancing she had done with her clan was a boisterous romp. What she was witnessing was closer to a living art.

Emmanellain looked up at the sound, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Well, if it isn't Mistress Terazh! Care to have a go?"

Waving her arms frantically, Vanha backed toward the door. "Forgive the intrusion."

"Nonsense, old girl," Emmanellain crooned. He caught her hand in his, tugging her toward the dance floor. "Surely you can stay for one dance?"

"No, I-I can't!" Vanha stuttered, pulling her hand free. She fled the room before Emmanellain could react. Focused on her retreat, she raced headlong into Artoirel as he turned the corner.

"Mistress Terazh! Are you all right?" he asked. 

Vanha blinked at him, trying to make sense of his words. "I'm fine, my lord. Pray, forgive my clumsiness."

Artoirel's brow creased in a frown. "You're unusually flustered, my friend. Is aught amiss?"

"No. I was just..." She gestured vaguely toward the music room.

"Just...?" he prompted.

"I was... er, Lord Emmanellain, that is, he..." she mumbled as a wave of dizziness washed over her. 

Artoirel took her forearm in a steadying grasp, scrutinizing her expression. "If my rake of a brother has said or done something unseemly, I swear I'll box his ears."

Vanha shook her head. "No, nothing like that. He wanted me to dance with him, but I declined."

"And you ran away like your robe was on fire?" He eyed her skeptically. "You're not one to frighten easily."

"I wasn't frightened -- I was merely startled."

He nodded slowly. "I see."

"Pardon me, my lord. Duty calls, and I must away." Vanha gave a slight curtsy before hurrying down the hall.

Artoirel smiled to himself as he watched her disappear around the corner. "Startled, indeed."

"May I take your cloak, Mistress Terazh?" the steward asked, easing the snow-caked garment from her shoulders. He motioned for the cook's helper, who hauled Vanha's cargo to the kitchen.

"M-my th-thanks."

Vanha struggled to keep her teeth from chattering as she unlaced her boots with fingers clumsy from the cold. She nestled her half-frozen feet into the thick fleece lining of her slippers. 

"Will there be anything else, miss?" the kindly old man asked. "A cup of tea, or perhaps a mug of hot chocolate to warm you?"

Her ears twitched at the latter. "Hot chocolate sounds heavenly," she said. "May I ask one more thing of you?"

"Of course, miss," the steward replied.

"What's your name?"

He was taken aback by the question but answered her with a gentle smile. "Firmien, my lady."

Vanha returned his smile. "Thank you for your assistance, Firmien."

He bowed deeply. "If I might be so bold, it has been a pleasure serving one so humble and kind as you, Mistress Terazh." Noting the blush creeping across her nose, he excused himself. "I'll just see to that hot chocolate now, miss. Might I suggest you wait in the lounge?"

"I'll do that," Vanha agreed. She shuffled down the hallway, agonizing prickles blooming in her thawing feet. Settling in a plush high-backed chair in front of the crackling fire, she reached toward the radiating heat. 

Vanha rubbed her tingling hands vigorously, coaxing the feeling back into her fingers. "Menphina's blessed-" she hissed, looking up to see Count Edmont settling in the chair opposite her. "Er -- moonbeams." 

His eyes betrayed his amusement at her choice of language. "Welcome back, my friend. How fared your expedition?"

Vanha grinned. "I'm more than a bit frozen, but I managed to bring back even more yak milk than your cook requested."

"My apologies." Edmont frowned. "I was hesitant to send you out in this uncertain weather, especially on such a menial task." 

"It's not much worse than karakul hunting in the central highlands, and I did plenty of that." Vanha waved away his concerns. "If I'm to be a guest here, I want to contribute where I am able. Might I ask why such a large quantity is needed? It seems far beyond what one household can use before it spoils."

"Ordinarily, it would be. 'Tis nearly time for Ishgard's Starlight celebration, and many of the popular dishes require yak's milk or the butter made from it. In addition to meals to be distributed among the Brume's residents, the kitchen staff will prepare the feast for House Fortemps' annual Starlight Ball."

Vanha tilted her head quizzically. "Starlight Ball?"

"The High Houses each hold a grand event for Starlight," Edmont explained. "House Fortemps has hosted a formal ball every year since I was a boy."

"What's a ball like?" Vanha asked. Her ears perked forward in anticipation. 

Edmont chuckled. "Lords and ladies in their finery. Decorations, food, and music."

Vanha's eyes took on a dreamy look. "It sounds marvelous."

"It's often rather boring, to be honest," he admitted. "Political posturing and idle chitchat. At any rate, you'll be able to see for yourself."

"Me?" she asked.

"You'll be the guest of honor." Noting her panicked expression, he reassured her. "Naught will be required of you, my dear. Although, I dare say you will be much in demand as a dance partner."

"D-dance partner?" Vanha gulped. 

"Ballroom dancing," Edmont said. "Waltzes and the like."

"But I have nothing to wear!" She clapped a hand over her mouth, her ears flattening against her head. 

The count smiled fondly at his young ward. "That's easily remedied; I shall have one of Ishgard's finest dressmakers attend to you at your earliest convenience."

"You're very kind, my lord, but I cannot let you go to such trouble for me."

"Think nothing of it. It is customary to exchange gifts at Starlight."

"It's too extravagant," Vanha insisted. "I've naught to give you in return."

"I have no daughter to dote upon, Mistress Terazh." Edmont's expression was wistful. "Pray, give this old man the delight of furnishing the gown for a charming young lady's first ball."

Vanha nodded mutely, his words touching her too profoundly to speak.

He clapped his hands in satisfaction. "That's settled, then. Have you any other concerns regarding the ball?"

She bit her lip and stared at the hands folded in her lap. "I can't dance," she muttered.

"I beg your pardon? I'm afraid I've gone a bit hard-of-hearing over the years."

"I don't know how to dance," Vanha sighed. "Not the fancy dancing like Emmanellain wanted me to do."

"Ah!" Edmont said. "Is that what had you so flustered? Artoirel apprised me of the situation in the music room."

She answered with another of her silent nods.

"That, too, is easily remedied. Would you like to have lessons with Emmanellain's tutor,  Mistress de Vauclaire?"

"Yes, please!" Vanha said. "If it's not too much trouble, that is."

"Not at all, my dear girl. You can begin tomorrow."

"Ah, Haurchefant, there you are." Artoirel greeted his half-brother, motioning for him to follow. "Come with me."

"Father invited me for dinner; is aught amiss?" Haurchefant asked.

"No, no. In fact, I'm glad you're here." 

The slightest crinkle at the corner of his eye betrayed Haurchefant's confusion. "Where are we going?" 

Artoirel glanced back over his shoulder. "There's something you need to see."

Haurchefant followed along curiously until Artoirel came to a stop at one of the manor's many doors.

"The music room? What are we doing here?"

Artoirel smiled and raised a finger to his lips. Haurchefant fell quiet as his brother opened the door.

A stately waltz played on the grand orchestrion. Mistress de Vauclaire was patiently leading Vanha through a box step sequence near the center of the room. 

Vanha failed to notice the arrival of her friends, so occupied was she with studying her feet. Shod in the heeled half-boots popular among Ishgardian noblewomen, she was clearly still adjusting to her new footwear. 

"Well done, Mistress Terazh," Mistress de Vauclaire praised her. "Now, let us work on looking at your partner while you dance."

Vanha sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "I'm sorry, Miss de Vauclaire. I don't know if it's these boots or if I'm nervous, but I can't seem to trust my feet to do the right things."

Mistress de Vauclaire sized up her newest student. "Auvrine, please. Worry not, Mistress Terazh. I'll have you in fine form well in time for the ball."

"Auvrine, then. And you can call me Vanha."

Auvrine shook her head. "I couldn't, Mistress. You're a guest; I'm just an employee."

"It's my name, and I say it's all right if you use it." Vanha stomped her foot indignantly, her heel clicking sharply on the glossy floor. Her tail jutted upward as if to exclaim her point.

"I dare say you're better off listening to her, Mistress de Vauclaire," Artoirel chuckled. 

Vanha whirled around, her robes flaring with the sudden motion. A deep flush stained her mortified features.

"L-lord Artoirel?" she stammered. Her eyes went wide as they took in his companion. "Lord Haurchefant?"

"So formal, dear friend?" Haurchefant teased. 

"What are you doing here?"

"Father asked me to come for dinner."

"I mean, what are you doing here, in this room?" Her tail lashed rapidly back and forth, brushing briskly against the fabric of her robe.

Haurchefant motioned to his brother. "Artoirel-"

"-knew you would want to say hello," Artoirel interjected. "With as busy as you both are, you've rarely had a chance to speak of late."

"That is true." Vanha's expression softened, and her tail slowed to a lazy, intermittent swish. "Forgive my impatience."

Haurchefant shook his head gently. "'Tis no matter, my friend. Is there aught I can do to help?"

"Actually, my lord," Auvrine said, "I believe there is."

He nodded, urging her to continue.

"Mistress Terazh--"

Vanha leveled a stern look at her tutor. Artoirel failed miserably to hide his smirk as Auvrine resumed her explanation. 

"Vanha has the required steps down but lacks confidence in her ability. Perhaps some practice with a trusted friend would ease her mind."

"What a splendid idea!" Haurchefant bowed, extending his hand to Vanha. "Shall we, dear friend?"

Vanha hesitated before gingerly placing her hand in Haurchefant's, giving him a shy smile. "Yes, please."

He drew her closer and wrapped his long fingers carefully around the curve of her waist, hoping to still their trembling. Her hand trailed up his arm to settle on his bicep.

"I'm sorry," Vanha giggled nervously. "I don't think I can quite reach your shoulder."

Haurchefant swallowed hard. 

He'd held Vanha once before, on a frostbitten night early in her asylum at Camp Dragonhead. She'd sobbed her grief into his chest as he stroked her silken white hair and murmured soothing words until she fell asleep in his arms. Neither of them spoke of it again.

The feeling this time couldn't be more dissimilar. Vanha's fond smile warmed her features, and her scent, fresh and subtly floral, filled his imagination with ephemeral images of a moonlit forest. 

The orchestrion roll looped back to the beginning of the song. One-two-three.

Neither Haurchefant nor Vanha moved. One-two-three.

Artoirel uttered a dramatic cough. "Haurchefant, I believe the lady is waiting for you to lead her."

"Ah!" Haurchefant gasped, rousing himself from his reverie. He grinned sheepishly at Vanha. "Do forgive me, my dear. Shall we begin?"

Vanha nodded eagerly and shifted her weight in anticipation.

The first several steps went smoothly, only to see Vanha revert to staring at her feet when Haurchefant adjusted their path.

She backed away from him, head down in defeat. "I'm sorry," she said. "I just can't do this."

Auvrine started forward, but Haurchefant forestalled her with a raised hand. 

"Dearest friend, I've seen you accomplish feats that others would not even attempt. I have every confidence that you will succeed in this task, as well."

Vanha shook her head, frustration writ large in her posture. "This is different."

"What if it were not?" he asked, an idea suddenly forming.

She turned, brow creased in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Do you watch your feet in battle?"

"Of course not," she giggled. 

"Why not?"

"Because I have to focus! Especially as a healer, my attention can't waver."

"Those are the reasons you shouldn't watch your feet," Haurchefant said. "Why don't you?"

Vanha pursed her lips in thought. "I trust in my abilities; I trust in my comrades."

"It is no different here -- you have the ability and comrades to aid you." He offered her his hand once more, a good-natured smile playing on his lips. "Do you trust me, Vanha?"

Her head snapped up, and she searched his bright blue eyes. "With my life," she said softly, slipping her hand into his.

Haurchefant's heart thudded in his chest. Seeking him out in her time of need had already proven her trust in him, but to hear her speak those words stirred something deep inside him. 

He motioned to Auvrine, who restarted the music. Giving Vanha's hand a tender squeeze, he asked, "Are you ready?"

She nodded. "I am now."

Artoirel watched the two of them move in a leisurely circuit around the dance floor while shyly gazing into each other's eyes. He chuckled faintly as he wondered if either had even realized their feelings yet, much less admitted them.

As the preparations for Starlight and the grand ball intensified, so too did the excitement and frenetic energy in the Fortemps household. 

Elegant wreaths and swags of fragrant cedar adorned shining mahogany walls and stone mantles throughout the manor.

Mouthwatering aromas escaped the sweltering kitchens at all hours as the staff prepared both the noble's feast and hot meals for the residents of the Brume.

Count Edmont and his sons set out early one morning to find the perfect tree to decorate for Starlight in keeping with family tradition. Much to the count's delight, Haurchefant elected to join them, despite his absence in previous years. They returned with a magnificent spruce tree, so massive that only the ballroom's vaulted ceilings could accommodate its lofty height.

While the servants wrangled the colossal tree, Edmont worried over his sons. He ordered them all out of their snow-covered garments and to the lounge for hot chocolate and spiced wine. Emmanellain balked at being treated like a child but sullenly followed his brothers upstairs to change clothing.

Vanha watched from a discreet distance, not wanting to intrude on the family's rare moment of togetherness. A wistful sigh escaped her lips. "So that's what it's like," she whispered.

"And what's that?" a low, gravelly voice asked behind her.

Her ears flattened, and her tail bristled in surprise. She turned to see the Azure Dragoon leaning against the door frame. 

"Estinien? What are you doing here? And how do you move so Twelve-be-damned quietly in all of that?" She motioned to the intricately spiked armor covering him head-to-toe.

"That, my lady, would be telling," he replied with his signature smirk.

Vanha huffed at him. "You, too? My name, Ser Dragoon, is Vanha. Feel free to use it."

"Hmph. You still haven't answered my question, Vanha ."

"And you haven't answered mine." Her hands settled on her hips.

"I asked you first." Another smug smirk.

Vanha's eyes shifted back and forth as she reviewed their conversation. "I suppose you did," she concluded. "I-I was just curious what it was like -- having a father."

The smirk faded from his lips. "What of your own?"

She shrugged. "Obviously, someone sired me, but I've no idea who."

"My apologies," Estinien muttered. "Twas not my intent to pry."

"It's not a big secret or anything," Vanha chuckled. "In fact, it's quite common for Keepers of the Moon, as there aren't many adult males living with the Clans."

"I see."

An awkward silence fell over them, eventually broken by Vanha's curiosity.

"My question yet remains unanswered -- to what do we owe the pleasure of your company?"

"Security sweep," Estinien grunted.

"For the ball?" Vanha's eyes narrowed. "Are the Fortemps in danger?"

"Nothing specific, but gatherings of high ranking people attract opportunists."

"I'll have to arrange to have my staff at hand." She tapped her cheek in thought. "Perhaps a knife up my sleeve wouldn't be a bad idea, either."

Estinien scoffed. "Know you how to wield that knife, healer?"

Vanha shot him a fierce grin, showing the faintest flash of her pointed teeth, and giving her an almost feral look.

"I grew up hunting alongside my brothers and cousins to help feed our clan. I'm no stranger to knives."

"Hmph. Do as you will, then." Estinien folded his steel-clad arms over his chest. "I have an inspection to complete. I trust I will see you tomorrow evening."

Vanha's eyebrow raised in surprise. "You're coming to the ball?"

"Aye. Ser Aymeric would not allow Lucia to attend as his bodyguard, but he cannot keep me away."

"Why is that?" Vanha asked.

His smirk returned. "I have an invitation."

"I think- yes, that'll do," Alphinaud declared, putting the finishing touches on Vanha's hair. 

"It's beautiful, Alphinaud," Vanha said. "Thank you so much for helping me with it."

Alphinaud ducked his head. "Of course, my friend."

Vanha pretended not to notice the blush that bloomed in Alphinaud's cheeks. She turned side-to-side, admiring his handiwork in the mirror. The relaxed braid was accented by silky waves that fell over her shoulders and a single lock framing her face.

"I would've been lost without you two to help me." She glanced at Tataru, who was busy fussing over Vanha's gown. 

"I'm sure the count hired a skilled seamstress, but I feel better having a look for myself," Tataru sniffed. "I'm not letting you make your debut to Ishgardian high society without personally inspecting every ilm of this dress."

Vanha gave her friend a fond smile. Most people overlooked Tataru -- figuratively and literally -- due to her small stature and quiet voice. Still, Vanha knew she was a force to be reckoned with.

"There you go," Tataru said, patting Vanha's right leg. "I double-checked the stitching on the last-minute additions, and everything looks good."

Vanha slipped her hand into the slit Tataru hid among the folds of her gown to grasp the small knife belted to her thigh. "It's perfect, Tataru. I hope I don't have to use it tonight, but I feel better knowing that it's there."

"Better safe than sorry," Tataru agreed. "Especially after the last party that you attended."

"Let's set that memory aside for tonight, ladies." Alphinaud frowned at them, returning to his own preparations. "Naught can be done to further our search efforts, and we owe it to our hosts to be gracious guests. Are you ready?"

Tataru nodded, and they both looked to Vanha. 

She drew a deep breath and took one last look in the mirror. "As ready as I'll ever be," she said, rising from the ornately carved dressing table.

Alphinaud offered her his arm. "Shall we?"

Vanha slipped her hand through, resting it lightly on his forearm. They were halfway out the door when she stopped. 

"My staff," she blurted. "I planned to keep it nearby."

Tataru shuffled over to the crystal-topped scepter, carefully balancing it against her body. "I'll ask Firmien where we can stash it in case of emergency."

"I can carry it myself," Vanha said. The dubious hold Tataru had on her weapon made her more than a bit nervous.

"Nonsense," Tataru hushed her. "Alphinaud and I did not spend all that time perfecting your hair and makeup, not to mention your dress, for you to make your grand entrance armed to the teeth!"

Vanha relented, allowing Alphinaud to lead her through the manor to the ballroom with Tataru trailing behind. A servant opened the tall double doors for the trio.

The spacious room was awash in color, from the festive decor to the nobles' extravagant attire. Sideboards laden with platters of roasted meats, succulent side dishes, and decadent pastries were arranged near neatly set dining tables. The waitstaff expertly navigated between the two to keep food hot and wine flowing.

A matronly Elezen pianist played serene melodies accompanied by a variety of woodwinds and stringed instruments. Around the spectacular Starlight tree, couples danced with varying degrees of enthusiasm.

Aside from their hosts, Vanha recognized precious few faces among the gathering of Ishgardian elites -- Lord Francel and his sister, Lady Laniaitte, and Ser Aymeric. Estinien lurked near the Lord Commander, though the dragoon's ever-present visor hid his face. 

"Oh, my," she breathed, clutching at Alphinaud's arm. 

He paused at the top of the wide staircase, his mouth taut with concern. "Are you all right?"

Vanha grimaced, placing a hand over her stomach.

"Butterflies," she said. "Are you sure there isn't a primal somewhere that needs felling? Perhaps that winged whale?"

Alphinaud patted her hand sympathetically. "Only you would be more sanguine about slaying a god than attending a ball, my friend."

"I have experience in fighting primals," Vanha grumbled.

"I'm going to head down," Tataru said. "You two come along once Vanha's had a moment to gather herself." She took the staff to a puzzled Firmien who accepted it with his customary grace and a promise to store it within reach. 

Satisfied that her safety precautions were in place, Vanha relaxed a fraction and watched Tataru cordially mingle with the other guests. Seeing her tiny friend fearlessly disappear into the crowd of people two and three times her size steeled her own resolve.

"Let's go," she said, tugging on Alphinaud's forearm.

He looked up, startled by her sudden conviction. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." She nodded firmly, a gesture with which Alphinaud was deeply familiar.

He offered her his arm again with a satisfied smile. "Well then, what are we waiting for?"

Haurchefant was no stranger to formal events, despite spending most of his youth avoiding them. The banter, the social posturing, the backhanded compliments -- as the count's bastard, he'd grown a thick skin, but it still chafed. 

He briefly entertained the idea of forgoing the affair altogether. Ultimately, the thought of leaving his dearest friend to face it alone stung worse than any high-handed noble's snide remarks ever could.

Vanha was an intelligent and capable woman who could hold her own in many situations. Nevertheless, Ishgardian high society was often overwhelming for those born and bred to it, let alone a foreign adventurer.

Haurchefant checked the breast pocket of his tailcoat for the fifth time and glanced up to the landing.

"She'll be here soon," Francel chided mildly. "Patience, Haurchefant."

Haurchefant shot him an annoyed frown. "I am patient, Francel."

Francel chuckled. "Of course, my friend. The very soul of composure."

"You know how uncomfortable these parties are for me," Haurchefant said. He claimed a wine glass from a passing tray and took a large swallow.

"Perhaps I shouldn't tease you so much," Francel admitted, clapping his friend on the shoulder. 

"'Tis no matter, old friend. I've heard much wor..." he trailed off.

Francel turned, following Haurchefant's gaze to the top of the stairs where Vanha stood, radiant in her lavender gown and arm in arm with an equally dapper young Alphinaud. They paused there, talking with Tataru, who was toting Vanha's mage staff rather precariously. 

Tataru continued down the stairs, delivering the staff to the chief steward before making her way into the crowd. Still, Vanha and Alphinaud lingered up above. 

"Something is amiss," Haurchefant hissed.

"Just give them a moment," Francel said. "If you go up there now, you'll only make fodder for the gossip-mongers."

Polishing off the remainder of his wine, Haurchefant nodded. "You're right, of course."

Scarcely another minute passed before a look of marked determination settled on Vanha's face, and Alphinaud resumed their descent into the throng of party-goers.

Haurchefant's eyes beamed with pride as he watched Vanha present herself to his father. The count bowed over her hand, then held her at arm's length to admire her elegant gown. She blushed and curtsied low, thanking him again for his generous gift.

"Your father just greeted Mistress Terazh as a noble," Francel noted.

"You noticed that as well?" 

"I'd be surprised if many people missed it. Do you think she has any idea how significant it is?"

"None, whatsoever," Haurchefant conceded.

Count Edmont encouraged Alphinaud and Vanha to enjoy the festivities before politely excusing himself to greet more of his guests.

Almost immediately, a pair of giggling Elezen maidens asked Alphinaud to join their group of young nobles near the Starlight tree. He hesitated until Vanha waved him away, insisting that he should have fun for once.

Left on her own, Vanha was adrift. With the butterflies still cavorting in her belly, the buffet wasn't an option. Artoirel and Emmanellain were occupied, and she didn't want to impose on her hosts more than necessary. She stood frozen to the spot, her tail whipping irritably over her skirt.

"Vanha?" A smooth, sonorous voice called her name. 

She blinked, eyes rapidly focusing on the familiar dark curls and tranquil blue eyes of the Lord Commander. "Ser Aymeric!"

"Come now, there's no need for titles among friends," he said, a genuine smile breaking over his handsome face.

"Everyone's so formal here; it seems best to err on the side of caution."

"Fair enough," he acknowledged. "At any rate, it's good to see you again. You look lovely -- if a bit lost."

"Thank you." She gave him a sheepish grin. "Was it that obvious?"

"Not overly so," he chuckled. "Estinien suggested we join you before one of the less scrupulous aristocrats tried to corner you."

"Estinien?" She scanned the area to find him posted nearby. Nodding her thanks, she quietly asked Aymeric, "Does he ever take that armor off?"

His head tipped back in a hearty laugh. "Not often, friend. Not often."

Although his helm obscured his eyes, Vanha had the distinct impression that Estinien was glaring at Aymeric. 

"Something amusing, Lord Commander?" he asked, stalking across the room with his trademark swagger.

"Nothing of import, old friend," Aymeric said. "Good of you to join us."

Estinien ignored him, turning to Vanha instead. "Lady Vanha, 'tis passing strange to see you in a noble's frippery." Practiced though Estinien was at controlling his emotion, even he could not conceal the surprise in his voice. 

"It feels odd to me as well," Vanha agreed. "However, Count Edmont was gracious enough to gift me this incredible gown, and I have better manners than to refuse."

He scoffed. "It suits you well enough, my lady."

Choosing to ignore the honorific, Vanha's ears perked up at the -- admittedly faint -- compliment. "You're kind to say so. I see you have opted for function over form."

"Aye, my lady." His lips quirked into a sardonic grin. "How fared your plan to smuggle a dagger in your sleeve?"

Aymeric raised a questioning eyebrow.

"I can assure you, gentlemen, there are no knives in my sleeves," Vanha said, holding her arms out wide. 

"I, for my part, would not blame you after the events in Ul'dah," Aymeric said.

"Oh, I have a dagger; it's just not in my sleeve." She discreetly tapped her leg. "It's strapped to my thigh."

Estinien uttered a short, barking laugh. "Good for you!"

"Indeed." Aymeric cleared his throat. "Estinien tells me you grew up in a large family?."

"Oh, yes," Vanha said, nodding enthusiastically. "Six boys, between my brothers and older cousins. My younger cousin and two little sisters came along later."

"I must confess, I am rather envious, being an only child," Aymeric said. "Might I ask where you fall among your siblings?"

"I'm fourth-born."

"What a coincidence -- I'm fourth-born in my family!" Francel announced, joining them. "Pray, forgive mine intrusion."

"Lord Francel!" Vanha exclaimed with delight. "So good to see you again!"

"It's wonderful to see you, as well," he smiled, inclining his head to Aymeric and Estinien. "You're so confident that I never imagined you to be a younger sibling like me."

"I know Lady Laniaitte, of course, but I've not met any of your other siblings. Are any of them here?"

Francel motioned to an exceptionally tall Elezen man with straw blonde hair. He was buried in a lively conversation with Count Edmont and a Hyuran woman Vanha didn't recognize.

"That is my eldest brother, Stephanivien. Aurvael is the second son; he couldn't be here tonight."

"Then Lady Laniaitte and you?" Vanha smiled.

"We, er, had another brother, Chlodebaimt. He was slain by the wyrm, Svara, when the Steel Vigil was sacked shortly after the Calamity," Francel said quietly.

"I-I'm so sorry," Vanha stuttered, laying a comforting hand on Francel's forearm. "My brother, Noh'to, died at Carteneau. He was a Lieutenant with Gridania's Twin Adders."

"It's all so senseless," Francel sighed, shaking his head sadly. "Pray, excuse me, Mistress Terazh, Ser Aymeric, Ser Estinien."

Francel melted back into the crowd before Vanha could react. She uttered a deep sigh, her ears deflating as the breath rushed over her lips.

"I feel terrible," she said. "I didn't mean to bring up such a sensitive topic."

Estinien shrugged, his armor plates jangling with the motion. "Nearly every family in Coerthas has lost someone to the Dravanians."

"He's right," Aymeric said. "Even more were lost in the Calamity and its aftermath, as you know firsthand. Pray, don't worry yourself over it."

Vanha wrung her hands, saddened by the thought that she'd upset someone as kind as Lord Francel. 

"Vanha," Estinien mumbled, motioning behind her. 

She turned to see Francel speaking with Haurchefant and the pair of them laughing. Her spirits rebounded to see that she'd caused no lasting harm.

"Thank you," she murmured. A ghost of a smile flickered across Estinien's face.

"Well, now all that is settled," Aymeric said, extending his hand to Vanha, "would you care to dance?"

She gave him a wry smile. "Only if you'll be patient with me. I've only recently learned, and I'm not all that confident."

"Of course, my lady."

Aymeric's skill as a dancer more than compensated for Vanha's inexperience. They rounded the dance floor a handful of times before returning to their previous location. Estinien was chatting with Alphinaud, whose young acquaintances had trickled out of the party in pairs or trios. 

"Thank you for the dance, Aymeric," Vanha said.

Aymeric pressed a brief kiss to the back of her hand. "It was my pleasure. You are a better dancer than you give yourself credit for."

She smiled and bowed her head in acknowledgment.

"I was just going to have a bite to eat," Alphinaud said. "Would anyone care to join me?"

Aymeric shook his head. "Thank you, Master Alphinaud, but I should mingle a bit more before I take my leave. Tongues will wag if I spend all of my time with the Scions."

"Alphinaud," Estinien grunted, turning to follow Aymeric. "Vanha."

"Joyous Starlight, Estinien," Vanha said. "Shall we sample the buffet now, Alphinaud?"

The two of them filled plates and found an out-of-the-way table where they could eat in peace. Tataru found them lingering over pastries and hot chocolate.

"There you two are," she blurted. "I've been looking all over for you!" Her eyes were abnormally bright, and her cheeks were flushed.

"Tataru," Vanha scrutinized her friend, "are you drunk?"

"How absurd," Tataru squawked. "A mite tipsy, perhaps, but surely not drunk."

Vanha hid a giggle behind her napkin. 

"Is aught amiss?" Alphinaud asked.

"No," Tataru said. "Well, maybe. Yes?"

"Which is it?" he huffed.

"Nothing's really amiss, but -- oh, it's just no fun. Everyone's too tall to dance with me!" Tataru sniffled.

"Is that all?" Alphinaud's expression relaxed. He bowed, extending his hand to her. "Miss Tataru, may I have this dance?"

"Oh, Alphinaud, you are a thoughtful young man," Tataru giggled.

"What about you, my friend? Will you be all right here?" he asked.

"I'll be fine," Vanha insisted. "Go, dance!"

Vanha savored the moment of peace, allowing her mind to wander as she watched the fire crackling on the expansive hearth.

A touch on her shoulder jolted her to alertness, her hand going instinctively to the dagger on her leg.

"Pray, forgive me for startling you, dear friend," Haurchefant steadied her. 

"The fault was mine; I shouldn't have let my guard down."

A frown flitted across his face. "You are safe here."

She didn't meet his gaze. "Of course, my lord. I don't mean to offer offense."

Two deft fingers carefully nudged her chin up, urging her to look at him.

"As a knight of House Fortemps and as your friend, I would lay down my life before I let anyone harm you, Vanha."

Her lips parted in a gasp, her lavender eyes wide in surprise.

"Haurchefant," she whispered, "you don't have to-"

"I do," he said firmly. "You placed your faith in me, and I will do whatever needs be done to earn it."

"You already have, many times over," she said. "Now, was there aught you required of me?"

"Only your company, should you be so kind as to grant it. I wished to greet you sooner, but you were with Ser Aymeric and Ser Estinien, and then Master Alphinaud. I did not wish to intrude."

She waved her hand at the empty seats. "Would you care to join me?"

"If you like," he said. "However, I was hoping you would honor me with a dance."

"I would like that very much," Vanha said. She accepted his outstretched hand, and they made their way to the dance floor.

"How has your first ball been thus far?" he asked as a new song began.

Her eyes sparkled with mirth. "I think I've managed to avoid making any major social blunders, although I probably owe much of that to Ser Aymeric and Estinien."

"You did seem a bit uneasy when you, Alphinaud, and Tataru first arrived."

"The preparation alone was daunting, but I had them to help me." She glanced at her dress with a smile. "Your father insisted on having this beautiful gown made for me."

"I imagine it delighted him to do so," Haurchefant said. The corseted bodice emphasized her already slender waist, making his hand feel almost comically oversized. "Come to think of it; I don't believe I've ever seen you wear a dress before."

"I grew up romping around the woods with my brothers and cousins; then, I began wearing robes once I joined the Conjurer's Guild. I suppose I've just never had a use for fancy clothing," Vanha confessed.

"Full glad am I to witness such a momentous occasion," Haurchefant said.

She laughed, playfully slapping at his arm. "It's not nice to tease me so."

He made an indignant noise of protest. 

"As if I would make sport of my dearest friend, resplendent in a gown the hue of her stunning eyes," he murmured. 

Vanha pressed a hand to her burning face. "Haurchefant! I told you not to tease- oh!"

She stumbled, but he was there in an instant. He cradled her against his chest while she regained her footing. Her now-familiar scent flooded his senses.

"Are you all right?" he whispered.

"Yes," she huffed, cheeks a brilliant scarlet. "Just embarrassed."

"Shall we find a seat?"

She hummed her agreement and accepted his proffered hand. He led her to a low bench in an undisturbed alcove. They sat facing one another, their knees nearly touching. 

A few moments passed in companionable silence before Vanha finally spoke.

"Thank you," she said softly. 

"Whatever for?"

"For catching me."

He smiled. "You need not thank me -- I will always strive to come to your aid."

"Oh, Haurchefant." She squeezed his hand. "You're too good."

"Nothing is too good for you, dear friend. Ah! Speaking of which..." He reached into his tailcoat, retrieving a small black leather box. "I have a gift for you."

Vanha accepted the box, cupping it in her hands.  "You didn't have to get me anything!"

"I wanted to," he said. "Go on -- open it."

The well-oiled brass hinges were silent as she raised the lid. Inside, nestled in the softest fleece, lay a pair of ornate silver earrings emblazoned with the House Fortemps crest.

Her mouth dropped open in surprise. "Haurchefant, it's- it's like your shield!"

He nodded, mouth wide in a carefree grin. "The symbol of House Fortemps."

Vanha blinked, tears misting in her eyes. "They're gorgeous! Are you sure it's okay to let me wear your family's sigil?"

"Father gave his blessing," Haurchefant said, angling his head in Count Edmont's direction. "May I help you put them on?"

"Yes, please!" Vanha enthused. He quickly replaced her simple amethyst earrings with the dangling emblems.

"Perfect," he uttered, running his thumb over the unicorn's silhouette. Vanha's ear flicked involuntarily as his touch ghosted over a soft fur tuft. He snatched his hand away, afraid he'd hurt her.

"It's okay," she giggled and leaned forward to let him see the earrings. "Light touches tickle my ears, but if you're a little firmer, it should be fine."

He nodded, reaching out to gently grasp her ear between his thumb and forefinger, caressing the span from her silver ear clasp to the pointed end.

"It's soft as silk," he marveled. "Do you like your gift?"

Vanha gave him a brief, impulsive hug. "I adore it. Thank you so much."

He returned the hug, catching another heady breath of her unique scent.

"What is that fragrance?"

Vanha frowned, sitting back. "Fragrance? I'm not sure -- I don't wear any -- oh! It must be hyacinth!"

"Hyacinth?" he asked, motioning for her to elaborate.

"They grow in the South Shroud, near my childhood home. I keep some of the dried flowers in my clothing bag to keep them from getting musty."

"It's enchanting, intoxicating, and invigorating all at once."

"I'm glad you like it," Vanha said, reaching into the small pocket Tataru concealed alongside her knife. "I hope you'll like this, as well."

She drew out a compact bundle wrapped in soft blue cloth, laying it in his outstretched hand.

Haurchefant peered at it before gingerly unwrapping it. Inside was a multifaceted crystal, palest aquamarine in color.

On one face was etched an intricate frozen castle, Halone's three spears forming its soaring spires. In the background loomed the abundant moon, Menphina's symbol imposed on the luminous orb.

Haurchefant studied the trinket, evidently delighted by the level of detail.

"Vanha, this is truly exquisite," he said. "A fitting homage to the Fury."

"I'm pleased you find it so," she said. "It reminded me of her friendship with Blessed Menphina."

"I'm afraid I've not heard anything of the kind," Haurchefant said.

"Ever since I was a girl, my mother would tell me stories of Lady Halone's magnificent ice palace. According to her, Lady Menphina provided the ice, even carving three of the purest moonbeams from the sky to serve as spears to adorn the citadel."

"I wonder why my people do not share this belief," he pondered.

"Perhaps the Fury's sway is so profound that it leaves little room for the Lover," Vanha remarked. "At any rate, this beautiful tribute to a friendship betwixt our goddesses seemed altogether a perfect gift for my dearest friend."

"I am honored by your gift and by the depth of your friendship," Haurchefant said. "I will treasure both always."

Vanha's reply was cut off by an obviously somewhat intoxicated Emmanellain, with Artoirel and Francel hot on his heels.

"There you are, old girl! I've been waiting all night for my chance to dance with you!" Emmanellain mumbled.

"Come away, Emmanellain," Artoirel barked. "Leave them be."

"Lord Emmanellain, mayhap you and I could-" Francel began.

"Mistletoe!" Emmanellain blurted loudly. "They're sitting right under the mistletoe!"

The tips of Haurchefant's ears went crimson, and Vanha raised an eyebrow at his reaction.

"Is aught amiss?" she asked.

"I swear to you; I did not bring you to this spot for that reason," Haurchefant vowed.

"I don't understand."

Artoirel delicately cleared his throat. "An ancient Starlight tradition, Mistress Terazh -- when two people are together beneath the mistletoe, they must share a kiss."

"Oh," Vanha said, eyes flickering to the sprig of leaves before settling back on Haurchefant's face.

"You don't have to," Haurchefant said.

"Yes, you do!" Emmanellain proclaimed. "And not just a peck on the cheek, either. Of course, if my brother would rather decline, I'd be happy to take his place." He gave Vanha his most dazzling smile. Artoirel discreetly cuffed the back of his head.

Haurchefant met Vanha's steady gaze, his left hand coming up to tenderly cup her cheek. He swept a careful thumb over the lavender stars beneath her eye and asked softly, "May I?"

She drew a slow, deep breath and smiled. "Yes," she whispered, tipping her face up to meet Haurchefant's. Her eyelids fluttered shut as he leaned down and their lips met.

Butterflies took flight in Vanha's stomach once more, dancing to the beat of her heart and twirling when Haurchefant's soft silver hair swept over her face. The unexpected longing that settled in her abdomen left her dizzy. 

Beneath Haurchefant's fingers, Vanha felt delicate, belying her unparalleled inner strength. His heart pounded in his chest, sending his blood singing in his veins. Profound desire flooded his awareness, along with an urge to support and protect the remarkable woman before him. 

The kiss lingered, neither of them wanting it to end. Ultimately, it was Francel's subtle cough that brought them back to their surroundings. Their eyes met briefly before Haurchefant's hand fell away, and they drew apart.

"Joyous Starlight, Vanha," Haurchefant sighed.

"Joyous Starlight, Haurchefant," she smiled. 

Vanha in her Starlight gown