Orion began preparing for his ascension to the throne. He wandered through the luxurious chamber, surrounded by gold-laced jewelry and radiant gemstones. The glamour of his flowing white hair and the softness of his skin mirrored the finery around him. His fair complexion harmonized perfectly with the ceremonial attire—crafted by the finest artisans in all of Arian.
As the servants escorted him toward the Ceremonial Hall, maids lined the corridors at intervals, their eyes following him with adoration.
"Prince Orion looks so graceful… the way he carries himself—I've fallen for him all over again," one maid whispered to another, barely containing her sigh.
"I know, right? That beautiful white hair and those aqua eyes—he looks divine. And I can't believe he chose the outfit I designed for his ascension!" the royal designer whispered with giddy pride.
Another designer, approaching from behind, added, "He looks so stunning that if he'd chosen my design instead, I'd be too embarrassed to show my face. You've truly outdone yourself."
The other maids overhearing the conversation couldn't help but agree—no matter what Orion wore, his beauty would shine through. His appearance is second to none but Cryo Sovereign in human form.
As Orion neared the towering double doors—carved ebony wood inlaid with silver and moonstone—two guards opened them in unison. A soft chime echoed out, announcing his arrival.
The Ceremonial Hall stretched wide and high, crowned with a chandelier like a falling star, its crystal shards suspended mid-air by near-invisible magic. Golden columns lined the walls, glowing faintly with old enchantments, while the marble floor shimmered like ice, veined with silver.
A scarlet carpet embroidered with the royal crest led to the throne, and a faint melody of harps lingered in the air, wrapping the hall in calm reverence.
A graceful, elegant woman approached him. Her flowing orange hair was styled with royal precision, adorned with sparkling crystal pendants and exquisite earrings. Her gown, stitched with lace finer than Liyue's silk, shimmered as she moved. Black satin gloves hugged her arms, matching her delicate stockings and heels that could make Cinderella envious.
She reached for Orion's hand with affection and said, "Where have you been for so long? Everyone has been waiting for you."
Her voice carried both elegance and genuine concern.
"I offer my deepest apologies, Your Highness. The reason I was—"
Before he could finish, she cut him off with a pout. "What 'Your Highness'? I am your mother. You will call me nothing else."
He nodded,"Yes mother. You are looking fabulous, May Seraphyx avert any bad sights that comes your way."
She nodded and smiled,"Of course I am looking my best, It's your Coronation ceremony after all. Which mother would not place such an event as anything but her highest priority in her heart."
The current King of Arian, Orion the First, strode toward his wife and son with measured grace.
Clad in modest yet regal drapery, his presence alone commanded respect. Each step echoed quiet authority—the kind forged not by crown alone, but through bloodshed and fire. His white beard framed a stern, time-worn face, and a black eyepatch veiled his left eye, hinting at a warrior's past few dared to speak of.
A relic of battles long past, the King bore no excess in jewels or gold; his power needed no ornament. The mere weight of his gaze was enough to silence rooms.
"Orion, this is your official coronation. Make sure to stand up straight today," the King said, his voice carrying the quiet worry of a father. "And Minerva, please stop spoiling him. It's only proper to speak with respect on an occasion like this."
Queen Minerva let out a dramatic sigh as she walked around him. "Here he goes again," she muttered playfully. "After all these years, he still thinks I'll change for formal events. If I didn't love him so much, I'd never have married into royalty. Too many rules…"
"Minerva, please… not today," the King said gently, brushing his hand through her hair.
The Queen blinked, caught off guard by the rare show of tenderness. A faint blush rose to her cheeks—he rarely showed affection like that in front of others.
"Alright, alright," she said, stepping back with a small smile. "I'll be quiet for now."
The servants around them sighed in relief, while some of the nobles exchanged amused looks. The old love story of the land seemed to come alive again before their eyes.
As the King's gentle gesture met the Queen's quiet blush, a soft murmur stirred among the gathered nobles. Some exchanged knowing glances, their voices low yet warm with sentiment. "Even after all these years," one whispered, "they still look at each other like no one else exists."
Another chuckled, swirling his wine. "I used to think the stories were embellished... but seeing them now, I'm not so sure."
A third noble added, "Time may have weathered the realm, but their love? That seems untouched." Amid the murmurs, a softer voice concluded, "Perhaps that's why the kingdom held strong all these years—its roots weren't just in bloodlines or steel... but in a bond that never bent."
Orion sighed in relief as the heavy gazes of people were diverted on their parents, 'Even now my parents are supporting me like this. If Father hadn't shown up I would have died from their constant gaze.'
The grand doors parted as a knight in radiant star-silver armor, gilded with gold, strode forth. Each step echoed with honor, his cape flowing like a royal banner in motion.
"Your Majesty," the knight said, bowing with practiced grace. "The preparations for Prince Orion's coronation are complete. Your subjects await outside, ready to receive your blessing and witness the ceremony."
King Orion the First gave a solemn nod. "It is time, my son. Let us proceed."
The servants guided the royal family through the grand corridor toward the throne room. The King and Queen took their place beside the now-empty throne, regal and composed. The audience seats were filled with eager citizens, while the nobles stood lined along the aisle, kneeling in respect as Prince Orion made his way forward.
Cheers and joyous murmurs rippled through the hall. Women swooned, enchanted by his beauty, and men looked on with admiration and pride. The ceremonial opera began, the melody carrying the weight of a national anthem—stirring and grand.
As Prince Orion reached the throne, a brilliant divine light descended upon the center of the hall. In that instant, the music ceased. A profound silence fell over the room. Every soul—king, queen, prince, noble, and commoner alike—knelt in reverence, their hearts overflowing with awe, devotion, and a sense of sacred purpose.
With gentle flaps of its wings, a small, radiant dragon descended from the light above. Its scales were pure white, shimmering like moonlight on snow, and its slender form radiated beauty and grace. Crown-like feathers adorned its head, a symbol of both majesty and elegance.
The dragon slowly opened its eyes—calm, knowing, ancient. As it landed softly at the center of the hall, the servants rushed forward, presenting the King with a ceremonial robe. He stepped forward with haste, draping the dragon in the grand fabric with reverence.
A brilliant flash of light followed—and when it faded, the dragon was no more.
In its place stood a man of such breathtaking beauty that time itself seemed to pause. His soft pink hair, born from the dragon's crown feathers, framed a face so flawless that even the proudest roses would wither in envy. His pale skin held the same divine glow, and his lips—tinged with a gentle pink—seemed to whisper secrets of the heavens.
"This coronation has been graced by your presence, Lord Seraphyx," the King said, voice trembling with joy and awe.
But Seraphyx did not smile. His gaze remained steady, unreadable. Then, in a calm, soothing voice, he spoke:
"Do not hold back the emotions in your heart. You cannot hide them from me. Let them flow freely."
And so, they did.
From the armored knights to the gentle maids, from the noblemen to the royal family themselves—everyone in the hall began to cry. These were not tears of sorrow, but tears of overwhelming joy.