The voice was slurring and loud, but not unfriendly sounding?

Sora squinted through the slowly thinning mist. He could understand a chef shouting all the time; kitchens were endlessly busy places, and not everyone could run as tight a shift as Little Chef back in Twilight Town.

The steam whooshed out with an opening of the flappy doors, but if anything that only made Sora more confused.

"Qu?" It spoke. "You want Dead Pepper Soup? No problem! I make it for you!"

What looked like some cross between a frog and a clown - that for some reason was obviously a chef - this creature was definitely one of the stranger things Sora had met in recent years.

But it seemed nice enough, and knew exactly what he wanted, so who was he to judge? It put a dampener on this Emperor Kuzco's 'no talking animals' rule, though. The creature looked pretty far from human…

"Um, thanks!" Sora said brightly, suppressing another sneeze. "I'm in room err…" he rifled through his pockets for some paper. He knew he'd scribbled the room name down somewhere…

"No need! I find you!" This creature slurped out a smile. "Now you go away while I cook Dead Pepper Soup!"

"Uh, great!" Sora held out a hand. "I'm Sora by the way. Glad to meet you!"

"Quina." It muffled in response, and glanced at his outstretched hand. Between the dead frog in one and the pointlessly huge spoon in the other though, it pointed out an elbow instead. And Sora bumped his against it with a smile.

With a new acquaintance and a meal on the way, he supposed it was time to try on this outfit Elsa had picked out for him. Anything was better than the dress Leon had insisted on, but he just knew it was going to be itchy and uncomfortable. Strange clothes always were.

But then again, he couldn't dance with Elsa in his shorts and hoodie. The left sleeve was disgusting with snot and there was a scorchmark in the back from a Fat Bandit getting too close in Agrabah.

Maybe it was time to ask the fairies for some new clothes, he shrugged sadly. Or maybe get Yuffie to darn these ones. They'd certainly been through the wars.

Sora sighed, mounting the third set of stairs in ten minutes and descending into another unfamiliar hallway. It was hard working backwards when he just followed the kitchen staff to get there.

"Hello?" He tried a door, which wouldn't budge. This place only had so many rooms. He'd find where he was supposed to be eventually. Responses ranged from cold and empty rooms to cold and forlorn, and a couple of choice words he wouldn't repeat in front of Master Yen Sid;

"Taken~!"

"It's polite to knock, child."

"Go find your own room!"

"Mrgrgr…!"

Hallway after hallway be tried, irritating everyone in this castle, it seemed. What was this place, though? A castle or a hostel? Did Elsa always have this many guests?

"There you are!" A familiar slurring voice called from the end of one hallway, and Sora recognised that Quina creature again. "I look all over for you!" They cried, a steaming bowl of soup and half a loaf of bread waiting patiently on a tray. "You slow at climbing!"

"Just… getting lost, is all," Sora smiled pitifully. How did they even get here before him? While carrying a tray of very spillable food no less?

"Hm! Looks like fate!" Quina huffed victoriously. "Only two things matter in this world! Things you can eat, and things you no can eat. You no can eat worries, but you can eat tasty soup to take the worries away!"

Quina nudged the door open - of course it was the right one - and held the tray aloft ready for him.

"I um…" Sora faltered. This near stranger seemed to know him better than himself right now. It wasn't just the mystical healing powers of soup, was it?

"…thanks, Quina. I'm sure I'll love it." He offered the weird clown frog creature a smile.

"You better!" Quina put their hands on their waist and glared at him. In a friendly way, Sora hoped. With a sage nod, they closed the door and left him in peace, with his tray of soup and tacky dancing clothes that he still hadn't so much as tried on.

Sniffling, Sora found enough time to plonk the tray on a nearby table before exploding backwards with another sneeze. It looked like food was the priority. Covering these fancy clothes in soup and sneezes probably wasn't the best of impressions.

Taking a seat at the little desk, he gathered himself for a moment before appreciating this soup for what it was. An earthy, reddish brown in colour, there was a cute little doodle on a moogle on the top in what looked like cream, and Sora could practically feel the blockage in his sinuses melting away from the woodsy scent wafting up from it.

Smelling anything at all was enough of a miracle, so Sora swilled a spoon through it and took a test sip.

Immediately a cough fought its way to the surface as spice and heat wrestled his palate into submission. Sora screwed up his face at the split second of contact, feeling like he was going to breathe fire if he dared let this cough win.

But after the first sip came braver spoonfuls, and following a brief adjustment period, every gentle draught was like a breath of fresh air. Warmed from the inside in moments, it was only improved by the addition of the bread, which tore from the loaf in sumptuous, butter drenched chunks.

The crispy, nutty crust surrendered to fluffy, buttery flesh, and dissolved in the mouth when combined with the soup. Every time he dunked the bread, more soup seemed to flow, refilling the bowl where bread once was.

Until suddenly it was empty, and he was dabbing dregs onto his last half a slice.

With a mighty exhale, Sora's cold was well and truly expelled from his body, and his bowl clattered onto the table, clean enough to use again.

"…holy cow." He muttered. All of a sudden, he was infinitely grateful that this Emperor Kuzco was such a picky eater. Food that good should be wired directly into the veins.

Of course, Kuzco had little to do with it, and it was all Quina's hard work, but he was grateful all the same.

After allowing it to settle for a few minutes, Sora turned a pained glance over to this costume he apparently had to wear. It was still better than the dress, but it was poofy in some places, flashy in others, and revealing in others still. And all of them were the wrong places.

The shirt wasn't too bad; massive sleeves like fabric marshmallows down to the wrist. It was accompanied by a bottle green waistcoat with a black chocobo on the back - chocobos could be more than one colour? - and very high waisted pants that looked like they'd rip the moment he touched them.

Oh, and they were golden. Why were they golden.

Add on the cheap looking fedora, the brightly polished boots, and weird sash thing, and he felt stupid enough just looking at it. Wearing all of it was just going to be the humiliating icing on the cake, wasn't it?

"Teioh…?" He frowned at the chocobo on the back. Maybe it was the mascot for the company Elsa got this from. It took the edges off how garish and awful it all was at least, but just left him with yet another unanswered question.

All in all, it wasn't so bad when he was actually wearing it. It felt like it would rip at a sneeze - those had worn off thanks to Quina's soup - but they were oddly forgiving and flexible. Allowing for a surprising amount of movement despite the sheer, dainty feel of them, it was one pleasant surprise after another as Sora slowly transformed from ratty teenager to wannabe dancer.

The boots were annoyingly clackety, clicking about like a cat on a tin roof with every step. Maybe they were supposed to, he shrugged down at them. Once he found his balance in them though, it was time to get a bit of practice in. Anything was better than nothing, and who knew when lunchtime was on Elsa's busy schedule?

Leaving the fedora on the table for now - that was a definite maybe - he closed his eyes and tried to recall Leon's instructions from earlier;

"…Step, one two, twirl, one two, step again…"

Focusing on just his breathing and the stupid clicky boots, he could feel just how out of his depth he was. Bulging in all the wrong places, stumbling where he should be gliding, forgetting his move and just freezing there for a couple of seconds, as if that wouldn't ruin Elsa's flow as well…

A professional he was not. Hell, he barely graced amateur. But it was the effort that counted. He was doing it for Elsa, and that was okay because he owed her a favour. Besides, he couldn't back out now if he wanted to.

"Well well. Look who's scrubbed up nicely."

Sora yelped. People had to stop doing that.

"Um… sure!" He recovered, his voice a notch higher than it should've been. He turned around to see Elsa against the doorway, wearing a mostly black dress with red bulgy sections like waves of flame lapping at the twilit shore.

"You look um… warm." He blanked. What was he supposed to say in a situation like this? Nice? Lovely? Hot? That last one was probably too much…

"Yeah, I hate it…" Elsa groaned, fluttering the crimson ruffles of her dress. "My whole thing is ice, yet I have to go dance for some emperor dressed like a flambé. I made my own little adjustments, though…" light shone in Elsa's eyes as she turned around, showing Sora a sprinkle of tiny snowflakes stitched into the bodice.

"Ooh, so you've got hot and cool at the same time. Clever!" Sora nodded.

"That's the gist of it," Elsa said. "So… are you ready for this?"

"Not in a million years," Sora chuckled.

"Well, I told you I wouldn't get my hopes up." Elsa flashed another 'professional' smile. "Just do the same sort of things I do, remember to tap your feet, feel the music… you know the drill. Okay! Let's do this!"

Her arm linked around his, and the pair of them made a slow, clackety journey towards… presumably a dance hall.

"…so, the shoes make noises?" Sora asked.

"Yep. For tap dancing." Elsa muttered through her smile, permanently glued on now.

"Great. Another thing I'll be horrible at."

"Just follow my lead and feel the music going through your body. You'll be fine."

"Err… I'll try?"

"Thats all I can ask for, Sora."

Keeping her arm looped, Elsa edged one massive door open with her spare hand, and Sora supposed he had to do the same with the other.

Blinding white spotlights splashed through the doorway immediately, and the pair of them emerged into a grand ballroom. Red and gold tables alternated around a central dancefloor, with a few colourful looking guests peppered about them, including what must've been the man of the hour himself, front and centre.

A tanned young man, barely older than Sora himself. He was unsurprisingly swathed in red and gold, with long dark hair, thick eyebrows, and a smirk that suggested the world owed him a favour.

He was flanked by a man clad in mostly gold who seemed to be built like a pentagon, and a woman in purple who looked older than time itself.

An interesting trio, he muttered internally.

"He definitely looks picky," Sora whispered out the side of his mouth.

"You don't know the half of it," Elsa hissed back, her smile standing strong. With a sigh and a deep breath, she refreshed herself; "Good evening, everyone! Honoured guests, visiting royals, and our Emperor Kuzco in particular," she added with a bow, "The Queendom of Arendelle welcomes you. It is our privilege tonight to honour your arrival, Emperor, with a dance. I hope that it, uh, pleases the court." She winked.

Catching Sora with a glance, he took the hint, and both of them bowed in near unison.

Hands interwoven, Sora took in a deep breath. It was time to face the music.