Three months had passed since that day.

In the sparkling city of Artemisia, the citizenry was bustling with contagious excitement for the first time since their monarchs' deaths. The day that they had been waiting for had finally arrived.

The coronation of a new queen.

Instead of dark, dreary houses, the buildings were aglow and swathed in traditional celebratory decor, giving the city life. The dome had been cleared of the usual on and off day cycles, leaving it clear, giving the spectacular view of the space beyond, stars and nebulae gleaming and glowing. Floral 'may poles' were being set up with ribbons, and every lamp pole leading to and from the palace was hung with the image of a woman's head bearing a crown.

Artemisia's port was filling up quickly with spacecraft, most coming from Earth. The majority of the lunar diplomats travelled from their respective cities in the underground transit system that panned across all of Luna.

Over a hundred foreign nobles in all were coming in that day, from all over the world. Forty of them had already arrived, with more coming in by the minute.

It was truly a sight to behold.

After all, the gates hadn't been open for a while. It had been three months since anyone had seen the lunar princesses.

If the king had a male heir, he could have been crowned king at the age of eighteen. However, he had only daughters, and according to custom, there could be no female ruler until she was twenty-four years of age. The idea was that the princess would find someone to marry in that time, and then he would become king instead.

No such occasion ever came to pass.

All the rumours had said, that in all of the galaxy, there was not a woman like Channary of Luna. A woman who seemed to radiate a natural 'nobility' and 'regality' from her body, who had such sophistication and grace matched only by her beauty.

And so, several suitors, had passed letters to her for a time. They had shown up in the court, with several attempts to woo her. There was one time when she had shown interest in one of her suitors, but otherwise, she had just waved every single one of them away, deeming them 'unfit' and 'inadequate'. That they weren't husband or king material.

In all honesty, though, she just wasn't really fond of the idea of 'commitment'. Having been raised in a world where monogamy was as common as an earthen eclipse, she was turned off by the idea ever since she had taken on her first lover. Where was the fun in only having relations with one person for the rest of your life?

There was none.

So, she never married, much to her mother's disappointment. The queen had always wanted a son-in-law—not that it mattered anymore, though.

As the rumors had it, there was the purported story that Princess Levana was quite lovely as well, almost as bright and sunny as summer itself, and there was a potential suitor for her intermingled with the crowd, a certain emperor whom was dying to see her again.

The growing crowd of nobles was abuzz with rumors and activity, all of them talking to each other about what was about to transpire, and those whom had never been to Luna were wondering what the gleaming palace and the royalty within it were like. A few passing aristocrats from the United Kingdom stopped to admire the gleaming palace from a distance, out of the way of the swarming crowd entering the gates.

King Hughes let out a joyful sigh. "Ah, my sore eyes can't wait see the queen and the princess!"

His wife, Camilla, smiled in response. "I bet that they are truly lovely ladies."

Their eldest son piped up. "Yes, absolutely beautiful!"

They continued to chat as the rest of the city rushed in preparation for the ceremony. Women were hustling in gowns, fussing over every single detail. Men in suits were trying to pacify their stressed-out wives, and children were running and playing about the streets. All this went on as more spacecraft continued to arrive with last-minute guests, and everyone gathered near the looming gates of the palace as the appointed time came near.

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Levana was not exactly the 'vision of loveliness' most had of her at that moment.

Being nineteen years of age and often bored with nothing to do except run around the palace, she didn't bother getting up too early. On this particular day, however, she had been awake half the night with anticipation for that morning.

As a result, she was sleeping in, and looking rather unflattering at that. She was in a discombobulated mess within her tangled bedcovers, her lovely auburn hair splayed around her head like some sort of mangy lion. It didn't help that one strand of hair seemed unaffected, dangling off by its lonesome to one side—or that another strand of her hair had been sucked into her mouth as she drooled out the opposite side, snoring loudly.

So loud, in fact, that the servant at her door had to escalate his knocking almost to a pounding before he elicited a response, but even then, only after about five minutes of it.

"Princess Levana?" he called in for what had to be the tenth time.

Luckily for him, that seemed to do the trick. Giving a bit of a gagging snort, Levana muttered and then absent-mindedly wiped her mouth, pulling her hair free, and then sat up in bed. She let out an incoherent mutter, her eyes still closed.

"Milady? Are you awake?" the voice called in.

"Mmm...hmm?" Levana muttered, only half-conscious. "Wha...yeah..."

"Am I disturbing you?"

"Wha...huh...no, no!" she said with a pleasant smile on her face—with her head sagging and her eyes still closed. She gave a weak stretch. "No...I've been..." She paused to let out a yawn. "...up for hours..." she finished; before her face began to sink and the beginnings of a snore started to come out of her lips as her consciousness faded again.

The servant knocked again. "Um...Your Highness?"

Levana's head snapped up, her hair flying around her shoulders. "What is it?"

"I'm just telling you that you need to get ready."

"Oh yeah...ready...I'm ready...'course I'm ready..." she muttered.

A pause.

"Ready for what?"

The servant made a bit of a face on the other side of the door. "Her Majesty's coronation, miss?"

"Her Majesty's...corner...ration?" At last, Levana opened a sleepy eye, which bore a glazed look on it for a moment before it managed to focus enough to look ahead of her.

She just managed to see the clothes she had picked out for that day resting on a mannequin—a beautiful purple dress with shoulder straps that hung on the upper arms, with a bejewelled bodice laced with pearls that went with her studded black shoes. A simple diamond pendant rested above it, on the neck.

It was as if someone had just taken a pail of ice water, mixed it with the strongest coffee imaginable, and threw it in her face. At once, her sleepiness vanished as she nearly gasped in delight. In an instant, the covers were off and Levana was literally exploding out of bed.

"Are you up now, Your Highness?" the servant called again, clearly impatient.

"Yes, I'm up! You can go now!" the princess responded, slipping the gown off the mannequin.

She didn't even know that it was physically possible for someone to get ready as fast as she did. In all honesty, she would have run downstairs looking like something the cat had dragged in with her nightgown still on if she could have. As it was, she gave herself such a quick and violent scrubbing and washing that she thought she nearly peeled off her skin.

She was a bit stunned at her own ability to tame her hair and fix it behind her head in what she could only hope was something both elegant and alluring—more importantly the second than the first. Her auburn curls were left free, save for a few strands in the front that were twisted together and pinned behind her head with strings of seedling pearls. Her dress went on as well as her shoes and, in spite of them being more of the formal kind, she ran with them out of the door to her room and quickly began to tear down the hall.

Only once her stomach growled did she realize that she had forgotten about breakfast. She didn't have time for things like 'breakfast' on a day like that one.

Once she reached the staircase that descended down to the ballroom, she jumped up and slid down the railing, holding her hands up as if she were on a roller coaster. She felt as light as a feather as she reached the bottom and leaped off, sliding on her feet across the beautiful, decorated ballroom, its silver chandeliers shining and shimmering. The scent of honey and garlic made her stomach rumble even more as she slid past the abundance of food tables.

Levana suddenly skid to a halt in front of the chocolate table and eyed a plate of sugary confections hungrily, licking her lips. She just couldn't help herself. After all, she had skipped breakfast, and she ended up stuffing her face with three or four truffles before quickly rinsing her teeth out with a glass of water, ensuring that there was no chocolate left between them.

After her little...snack, she tore down the halls until she reached the foyer, where she flung the front doors open and charged across the courtyard, water from the nearby fountains spraying her ever so slightly as she breezed past them. By the time she got to the front, the outer gate had already been opened, and people were already pouring across the shimmering bridge than ran over the Artemisia Lake. Soon after, with a sound that seemed like heaven itself unlocking, the large latch of the main part of the gates of Artemisia undid, and the massive regolith doors opened.

At once, Levana burst forth from the gate and ran down the bridge—probably the only person around who was going the opposite way. She ran and skipped, practically dancing as she grabbed onto the nearest light pole and swirled around it, letting her body dangle off the bridge, her foot nearly touching the crystalline waters.

One might wonder how it would look to have a princess running and frolicking about unescorted. However, the older days in which royalty would wear completely impractical dresses and stay shut up in the palace on Luna had largely passed. That said, Levana was a bit more uncontrollable in that regard. While Channary may have preferred to conduct herself that way, not so with her. And although she was dressed lovely enough to immediately be unmistakable for a rich woman or a noble, her behaviour definitely wasn't that of a lunar princess.

She didn't really care, though. She was on a mission. She was trying to find her 'prince charming'.

(ah Saito I've missed you where are you my love I want to see you)

Could anyone look into Levana's mind at that moment, they might have begun to think she was being a tad on the naïve side. But those same people likely hadn't spent years inside a lonely, desolate palace. They likely hadn't had their contact with the opposite gender limited to family members, servants, and romantic stories where young women like her, or even younger than her, found the handsome, rich men of their dreams and instantly went off to live happily ever after.

And they likely hadn't spent years wishing, hoping, dreaming that some fantasy like this would come true, followed by months of planning it out in minute detail.

(you're like a dream you're like chocolate I love you I love being with you)

She and Saito had commed each other every day since the disastrous gala, and over those months, had only fallen even more in love with each other. They talked about anything and everything, showed each other their talents and hobbies. Saito was awed by Levana's many drawings and sketches, and she was fascinated in turn by his heavenly voice. He would oftentimes sing her to sleep with a serenade, and no sound was more comforting to her than his.

(your songs are so sweet I can't get enough sing to me forever)

Had he not been a monarch, he would've made a mighty fine musician.

The echo of his voice rang in her head as Levana ran through the sea of nobles, her heart racing, her hair flying behind her. She closed her eyes as she ran down the port, her arms spread, as if she were to take off any minute, and fly like a bird.

Until she slammed face-first into the hard, metal hull of a nearby spacecraft.

The princess cried out and held a hand to her forehead, that was most likely bruised after the hard impact. "Ow..." she whimpered, rubbing her forehead, trying to soothe the pain.

"Now, Levana, I know that you're excited to see me, but please don't break your neck."

Levana perked up at the smug, playful voice behind her. She turned around to face none other than Saito, who was smiling mischievously.

She beamed. "Saito..."

He chuckled and put a hand in his pocket. "Hey, Firecracker."

She blushed at his nickname for her, and went over to hug him, but was caught her by surprise as he instead pulled her into a kiss. She eagerly returned it, wrapping her arms around his neck, her bones singing at the warm touch.

"You have no idea how badly I wanted to do that," he whispered huskily in her ear when they finally broke apart. She blushed and put a hand on his chest, and he wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her close to him.

They just stayed like that, without saying anything, until far in the distance, back at the chapel within the palace, the steeple bells began to ring. Levana didn't even notice at first, burying her face in his jacket, his earthy yet musky scent making her giddy.

However, by the time the third bell rang, she blinked a few times and lost her look, straightening up a bit. She pulled back and looked up at Saito's face.

The bells...

Channary's coronation.

Saito seemed to realize it at the exact same time.

"Well, it looks like we should make our way to the chapel..." He grasped one of her gloved hands, squeezing it lovingly. "May I escort you, Milady?"

Levana giggled. "Of course, Your Majesty."

He nugdged her arm playfully. "I thought we agreed on no more 'Your Majesty'."

"You're right." Levana kissed his cheek. "We did."

He smiled and they walked off, hand in hand, to the coronation ceremony.