And he is similarly courteous and very pleased to meet them and recommends sites to see and inquires after whether they are visiting Taniquetil - ("not this trip, I don't think," Maitimo says -) and is very curious about human succession customs.

Liatsi was an only child except for a younger sister who didn't make it to her second birthday and inherited from her father upon his death. If her baby is a girl, she'll be the next queen of Cefax; if a boy, the next king of Niohain, which doesn't allow for queens regnant. This is of course not accounting for immortality; it seems likely that the baby might remain a prince(ss) forever instead given recent developments.

Elves are courteously startled that the baby's father is in a different country and that she's planning to rule while having small children.

One small child; the urgency of having an heir being somewhat diminished they might not keep going until they've each got one. This one was conceived before the arrival of the Elves. They prefer not to leave their countries unattended by their monarchs for long so Liatsi spends two thirds of the year in Cefax and her husband spends two thirds of the year in Niohain. Fairies will make commuting easier, but they do not find that they are much impaired by missing one another, and they will have plenty of help with the baby; Liatsi's redmage is engaged to look after the entire family and there are servants to boot.

Elven pregnancies require the ongoing involvement of both parties - or all three, in prince Nelyafinwë's case, but that's unusual. Good wishes for the wellbeing of the baby are expressed.

Humans don't have that trait. Or three-parent children, that's interesting. The baby is expected to be fine.

Well, he and his husband wanted children and are very determined sorts and so seduced a god. The King seems rather delighted by this anecdote about his grandchildren.

Godspring's gods don't work that way at all, the multiverse is so fascinating. The bluemage's attendant finds it necessary for some reason to remark that in their world men don't marry other men. Liatsi shoots her an irritated look and she shuts up.

"Oh, it used to be that way here too, and then we noticed there was no good reason. Eru had prohibited it because he likes forbidden romances, and that was - not exactly satisfactory. ... the young man Prince Nelyafinwë's fork met there -" says the King, and gets his own irritated look from his grandson. 

"In our case it's not a divine prohibition, and everyone in Cefax is accustomed to how redmages work," says Liatsi smoothly. "Though as a similar matter of custom mages traditionally only marry each other, I think we're approaching a time of many changes."

"I hope they're for the better." 

And then there is singing! Macalaurë agreed to find something cheerful for the occasion.

The humans are awed again.

Singing precedes lunch, which they have conjured just in case Elf food preparation doesn't eliminate some foodborne diseases that affect humans. The rest of the cultural exchange does not touch on anything fraught; Maitimo might have privately pleaded with the King not to ask questions about redmages.

The redmage present is watching Liatsi closely for cues but apparently the cues are "don't volunteer things about redmages".

At least his grandfather has not said aloud 'Nelyafinwë, if you don't mean to marry him -'

He calls a floatcar so they can go sightseeing in the afternoon.

The bluemage is so excited about the floatcar. Apparently being restrained about thinking stuff is cool requires attending to the fact that other people might be watching you emote. The bluemage's attendant is considering getting a demon to make a floatcar for him.

You'd also need the following accompanying infrastructure, but with that it'd be lovely.  They can head downtown and within human eyesight of the airport and the vertical gardens and so on. 

The humans drown in pretty. It's all so pretty.

He volunteers technology explanations where wanted and flinches internally at people asking cultural questions about mages but otherwise lets them drown in pretty.

Liatsi handles them well. Perhaps surprisingly the bluemage can field a lot of them too without needing to tread on concepts he's having trouble with (or at least doing so by recitation only).

Liatsi's impressively graceful. He can appreciate it as an abstract skill as well as making his job much easier. People are very curious what it's like to be a mage. "We can send each other concepts and experiences without words," he explains. "If there are ever Elf mages people will be very eager to get their experiences from them directly."

"I bet we can't do that if we're far along," says the bluemage in a moment of particular lucidity.

"Elves are not very likely to let our bluemages get far along, for that and other reasons. But - yeah, probably not."

"Little children have to grow out of being bluemagey," says the redmage.

"Out of not understanding that other people are people? Yeah. That's an interesting way to think about it. It's - not that there's anything wrong with being bluemagey, if someone were to prefer it."