A/N - It has been awhile, I know...:)

Celebration

No one expects them to come, not really, but doing the unexpected has sort of become their trademark.

So they will.

The invitation is a lovely, delicate little thing with gold-leaf edging and curlicued script. The envelope it comes in is brown, battered and marked with the fingerprints of each person who has passed it on. Balthier is most likely expecting an arrest warrant, and Fran a request to hunt a mark, so in the end it is a pleasant surprise to be invited to Queen Ashelia's coronation ball.

They have received the missive quite late, and so it seems that in no time at all they land the ship and make their way to the palace. Fran feels a little like they hardly belong on these once restless streets, where excitement lights the faces of the cityfolk instead of the desperate question, 'will we survive?'

"It feels strange to be back on Dalmascan soil," Balthier remarks, smoothly adjusting his collar as he does so.

"Stranger still that we can name it so," Fran replies, with a note of grimness she lets escape.

"Fran," Balthier says, turning to her, "That is behind us. Tonight I want you to have fun. Surely you've earned that?"

Fran is reluctant to admit that she enjoys the feel of the black silk dress floating around her, and the wind in her coiled and bejeweled hair. Such pleasure in the coldness of hume treasures should not come so readily for one who once braided her hair with flowers.

And she shouldn't cast so many greedy glances at Balthier, dressed so unashamedly pirate-like that only his friendship with the Crown will save him from arrest. Her determination not to look only serves to stop her seeing that he has the same dilemma, yet lacks her resolve not to look.

"Perhaps it would be wise to enjoy, for the sake of our friend," she concedes. Balthier grins, and offers her his elbow.

"Would now be the time to make our grand entrance m'dear?" he asks, the grin turning into a smirk.

Fran stops walking. "Please explain, Balthier. I'm sure you've just said something foolish."

Balthier holds up his hands. "It is no matter. Custom requires that we are announced as we enter, then pay our respects to the hosts. I was planning on slipping through a window or some such so we can avoid such trivialities," he explains.

"Wise," Fran says in relief. She did not come here to be stared at.

Balthier points out a side door to the palace hanging slightly ajar. They have studied the floor plan in the past for certain...reconnaissance purposes, and know that from there they would simply need to take a side passage, a flight of stairs and then the service corridor to slip into the ballroom unseen.

As always however, what they plan and what actually happens is often far off the mark.

"Guys! Hey guys!" a voice calls. Balthier's left eyebrow twitches upward. "Hey Penelo, I think it's Fran and Balthier!" The right eyebrow joins it, before settling down into a scowl.

"Vaan," he greets in a strained voice. "Penelo," he continues, his tone softening a little. "Have you been keeping yourselves well?"

Vaan nods eagerly, and Penelo gives him a little embarrassed nudge.

"It certainly has been awhile," Fran says, feeling as though she should contribute somewhat. A part of her admits that she has missed these two young ones. There is no shame in this.

"So, um, where are you guys going? You know the ballroom is this way, don't you?" asks Vaan. Fran sees a tiny crease appear on Balthier's forehead.

"In actual fact, we were hoping to-"

"C'mon! Hey look everyone! It's Fran and Balthier!" Vaan yells. Two guards stationed by the entrance look curious. They have certainly heard the rumours about the mismatched sky pirates, and their role in the saving of Dalmasca. Fran's ears twitch with all the attention they are attracting. Suddenly, Balthier's idea of slipping in unseen feels much less paranoid and far more agreeable.

She notes that Balthier is looking around for exit locations. She notes that she has already located three, all of which require a rather sizeable distraction. It seems a little extreme, but perhaps she can pretend to be overcome by mist, or perhaps-

Then, suddenly, Balthier is smiling and taking her hand. "I suppose we've been through worse," he murmurs.

"All options considered, this is the one which will cause the least embarrassment," Fran replies.

"And the most enjoyment," Balthier adds, stroking her hand with his thumb.

They are at standing in front of the great doors. The master of ceremonies is reading out their names, but Fran can barely hear, or care.