Munching on the roasted apple was Morgan whose fingers somehow managed to grip onto two at once. She blinked at Arthur and Octavia, blank in expression. "Did you guys have a fight?"

The blonde looked up to the brunet and back to the green-haired. They shook their heads in unison. "About to maybe," Octavia nonchalantly spoke as she dragged malevolent eyes back to the stage. "With the Emperor,"

Gasping, Rhiannon quickly clasped her hands with Octavia's. "Octavia, you mustn't!" she yelped. She turned to her brother as her face turned to a certain grim that she has never portrayed to anyone- except possibly her brother who promptly flinched. "Dear brother, you mustn't let her,"

"Y-yes," he stammered and gave a nervous smile. "Of course,"

As they refrained from talking for a while, basking in the joy of this silent reunion, the folk songs played by the talented musicians could be heard from afar. The violin's melody sprang up and down in tempo to the happy tunes it permeated within the dinner. Children and parents were seen dancing in a designated area while some spectators clapped to the beat. They cheered, laughed. Some mimicked each other. A couple was drunk too soon. Meanwhile, elves were serving trays after trays of apples as their footsteps synched with the steady thumps of the drum.

Morgan continued chewing as she twirled around to see the radiating dinner lanterns. Albion was dark at night. Yet the lanterns that draped from one tent to the trees illuminated in a soft glow, feeble to the surrounding that only had moonlight to rely on. In blue was how Albion was lit from the sky. But here, it was a calming yellow to celebrate the rare occasion. How vibrant.

Suddenly, she felt a tug from her fingers.

"Don't mind if I do," a voice said as she heard the crunch of her roasted apple. Furious, she turned back to see Octavia taking a huge bite on her apple.

"G-get of my apple!" Morgan yelled, yanking the blonde's head. The King and his younger sister hurriedly tried to hush them from attention. Instead of preventing her from getting any more of the succulent hot apple flesh, Octavia managed to nibble off the whole fruit off the stick. The green-haired gaped, apple meat visible on her tongue. "H-hey!"

Octavia took a bigger bite and chewed silently. Sometimes, Morgan forgot how this slim woman had a huge appetite. Rhiannon giggled at the situation as her fingertips crept up to her lips. Arthur smiled, swallowing when he heard yet another loud crunch from the same apple. "I'll get you another," Octavia mumbled.

"Fine," the tomboy responded with a pout. Then, she jerked her head towards the bright foyer. "By the way, Your Ever So Dissipating Majesty-"

"Morgan!"

"-A big audience has requested for you to dance. You shouldn't keep your supporters waiting or the Emperor is going to find you incompatible," Morgan shared an impish smile with Rhiannon before starting to snack on her second apple. Not a moment after that, they saw Mark and Nero making their way back to the foyer. They waved their hands.

"An audience demands to see us dance, I'm afraid!" the Emperor yelled as he trotted to the foyer entrance. That made the ladies giggles even harder. Being King for a few months, Arthur was destined to meet very peculiar sets of tasks. Dancing was what he knew was about to happen but he surely wasn't up for it now- not when he had just announced something very spectacular. "Come, Arthur. I'm sure you and I would be of very special entertainment," He winked.

Exasperated, the brunet sighed and scratched his head. He stomped towards Nero. "Very Well!" he shouted back with a reluctant slouch. Nero furrowed his brows, baffled.

"What are you doing, Arthur?" he asked. "Ask your sister to come along. You would need a partner, am I wrong?"

The King froze and eyed back. Rhiannon was already halfway through galloping across the garden towards the back of the castle while Morgan was slowly jogging behind her. Octavia was stunned to see the young brunet run so fast in her life except when she saw her cousin looking at her directly, she took a step back.

Nero hinted an obnoxious smile. "It seems that you have no choice,"

"O-Octavia, I've never danced before,"

"Oh dear,"

"I can't believe the whole Kingdom is watching us. We are going to embarrass ourselves, aren't we?"

"Not on my mark,"

"M-Mark Antony?"

Octavia flinched. "No! I mean-"

Atia somehow wounded up with the Demon King who stepped foot to the dancing floor. The crowd cheered with a crazier volume when the Emperor stepped in, gloved hands in Morgan's. Especially the ladies- they were chanting madly. Many of the Albion women had taken a liking towards the handsome lad to Octavia's disgust. Though, he couldn't entirely blame him for being a human magnet. Members of the Aurelian linage, to Octavia's notice, would always be given birth with an innate talent in charming people- be it men or women.

This turned out to be bigger than a disaster, however. After a short moment, Octavia realized that the pairs were made of half Albion and half Empire. Whoever's idea it was to haste this mix of people in such manner- Octavia was going to murder them in their sleep with her usual nonchalance. Not a slow murder it would be. She was sure to adorn it with torturous elements.

It was defiance at its finest. First, she was made Imperial Strategist. Next, she was to dance with the King of Albion. And now, she was to discover her aunt suffering the seductive eyes of a Demon King and her boyish friend hand in hand with her flamboyant cousin. Remarkable history. Superb. Marvelous.

At the very least, she knew that the dance was not as rigid as how the Divine Empire's would be. It would be fun in the sense that the pairs were allowed to switch partners with nearby dancers. After a while, she expected other dancers to barge in to join the higher ups in their spectacular performance of failure. And during that time was when Octavia planned to escape from humility. Perfect, she thought. She only had to pretend to assimilate herself for five minutes.

Just. Five. Minutes.

Nero gestured to the quartet with a playful smile. The conductor nodded his head. His batons rose. Boom went the violinists and cellists with their music, subtly hinted with romantic melodies. Arthur grumbled.

Nero and Arawn made the first moves. Arthur slowly followed their sways. Hands on her waist. Eyes locked. Feet parallel. The brunet didn't turn out as bad as the blonde expected. As the beat crept up in tempo, Octavia started to notice how his hips abled to usher her round and round the floor. Actually, Arthur was too sturdy and flexible in his lead towards Octavia, the spectators started to ignore the two other pairs.

"Arthur," Octavia whispered out, smiling when his hand slipped from her elbow up to her wrist. He was very warm. Not to mention too focused. Octavia coughed. "Your Majesty,"

Violet eyes crawled up from Octavia's supple steps- to her legs exposed beneath the toga's slits, to his large hands on her small waist, to her bare collarbones and finally to her blue widening eyes. He then stared at her, heavy lidded as though he had just succumbed himself into the thick tunes of the ballad. Still not noticing the blonde's call, he abruptly took a step back, creating an unfamiliar gap between them that relieved of Octavia's personal space, and gave a circular tug to Octavia's wrist. Immediately, she remembered her old dances.

There was a slight delay before she finally took the signal. Arthur nodded. Tensed, she twirled, wrist pivoted within the firm grips of his fingers. The other pairs slowed down to admire while the crowd silently ooh-ed and ah-ed. Blonde hair trailed her graceful motions while it brushed the King's chest and her own arms a few times, each turn, making a quiver slither down her spine.

Four beats made four curt swirls. As, for a split second, she slowed down to return to the King's former stance, Arthur took a step too near, tangling Octavia's legs with his.

She fell backwards. "Arth-!"

A small whimper. Taking a deep sigh, sapphire eyes shimmered as she realized that the brunet himself had secretly initiated a dip. Her back arched while his arm hooked against the small of her back. One hand was trembling as it gripped onto Arthur's shoulder. The other was smartly caught in his, way above his hairline, just enough to prevent her from pulling him down straight to the ground. They stayed for another four beats when she could feel the King's hips trembling against hers.

His arm straightened.

As red as her shawl, Octavia blushed when he finally pulled her back to his embrace while eyes of hundreds were obviously glued on the two. She felt her knees shaking from staying in the dip's position for too long. They weren't supposed to attract attention. They were supposed to stay as lackluster as they could to make their daring escape go unnoticed. However, they might have just attracted the whole Kingdom. To make matters worse, when she was back to her feet, she found her legs weak, forcing the King to grip her by the back to not tumble.

The audience jumped from their seats and applauded the innocent end to the sudden plunge. Even Atia and Nero were astonished, which made Octavia smirk. When they were completely drowned in awe, the people started to flood the floor, eager to join the dance. This was her chance to flee, the blonde thought.

"I'm sorry," the King quickly whispered. "Forgive me. That was a bad dip,"

Octavia shook her head. Mildly impressed, she found the dip not half as bad as she had seen in her earlier years. "I thought you didn't know how to dance," Octavia stuttered in a hush, flushed nose buried in his chest.

"I've seen people dance," he explained, trying to stabilize Octavia. "I just wanted to try that,"

A moan escaped when the fair head felt her thigh strain. "Damn," she cried, muffled against his tunic. "I'm not a guinea pig, Arthur,"

He kept brutally quiet.

Hastily taking a glance around the area, he waited for a moment. They were the only lonesome two that was stagnant in this sea of synchronized motion. Octavia wondered what was going on in his head. Whatever he wanted to do, he had to do it fast before people started questioning them. Then, his arm curved around her back and her thighs, cradling her vertically soon enough to reach the edge of the foyer. In a flash, they sat themselves at a table before attracting further attention.

Octavia sighed deeply.

"Did you sprain a muscle?" Arthur asked, crouching.

"I think it hurts a little at the moment," she said, bending and straightening her legs. "It would wear off by midnight. If it is, you sprained it in your desperate attempt to swoon your people,"

Arthur stared. "It was worth the risk," he shrugged, beaming to the ground. "For many reasons, it was," He paused. "You were-"

"My, my!" The Emperor hopped to the scene. Arthur jolted up to greet him. A hefty pat shook him by the shoulder. "That was astonishing, King Arthur!"

Atia joined in with Morgan who hurriedly pushed Rhiannon to dance with Arawn. The petite brunet glared Atia who bowed apologetically. Beside Octavia, they sat and panted, sweat visibly trickling down their gowns. Dancing during the summer was perhaps the best and worst decision.

Arthur was startled to find the elves waving and beckoning him to dance again, curious as to how articulate he was in his steps. He cracked a loathsome smile. "You should go," Nero said as he nudged him by the arm. "You shouldn't keep the ladies waiting now, right?" He winked.

Arthur went silent.

He gave one last look to Octavia, lips mouthing a sentence before he fled. The blonde paused, doubting her lip-reading.

"You were beautiful," he said, voiceless.