’Somnus.’

The sound of his name reached his ears through the din of the festival attendees and the said King turned, verdant eyes seeking out the source as he carefully avoided knocking into a rambunctious young filly wearing a crown of roses with his wing. There were so many children about, thrilled with the plethora of flowers, the arts, and the music. The Dawn King’s gaze focused on the one who had called his name, recognition glistening within keen emerald eyes. It was Orion. The mottled grullo looked particularly dapper with his floral crown, an arrangement made of red roses and white orchids. Clearly he had been to see Ipomoea, and the sight of him caused Somnus to smile.

“Orion. A pleasure to see you. I see you’ve paid good Po a visit?” His Emissary seemed particularly at ease, and the dunalino couldn’t help but wonder if it had something to do with his upbringing. Court life could never really be forgotten, no matter how long one might be absent from such a lifestyle. He hoped that Orion was settling comfortably into his new role. “Red roses and white orchids… They suit you.”

Seated upon his croup, Alba blinked up at Orion with wide black eyes before letting out a pleased little chirrup. Oh, she had not forgotten the Emissary’s kind words, and wouldn’t anytime soon. The barn owl wore a small woven crown of her own, tucked beneath a few feathers in places to ensure that it would not fall off. It was a tiny thing, woven together with violet irises and strands of green holly. It matched Somnus’ own; modest, yet made with love. Vines of holly twisted from the crown that sat atop his poll, dangling and wrapping about the dunalino’s ebony horn. It hung in great loops before his face, swaying in the breeze, and made their usually composed and sophisticated look nothing more like a prancing gypsy. Even though he wasn’t one for crowns, and as such did not wear one even though he was Sovereign of Delumine, there was something particularly fond and appealing about wearing a crown made of one of Delumine’s most beautiful aspects.

The other courts called them ’flower pickers’, mostly in insulting tongues. Somnus would gladly embrace the title of ’Flower Picker King’, if that was the case. Let him revel in pride and enjoy the beauty of his home. There was no shame in such an act.

Unaware that he was doing it, Somnus bobbed his head in tempo with the nearby vocalists, but his gaze remained upon Orion’s grullo frame. He smiled, showing teeth, clearly relaxed and at ease. Nearby a dance began, shouts of joy and ’whoops’ being called into the air as a traditional Delumine dance picked up. It tugged at his heart, and the Dawn King glanced towards the dancers that had begun to sway and stamp their hooves with a look of longing before focusing back upon Orion. His smile grew. “Care to join me in a dance, Orion? I could use a good dance partner.”

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Orion’s words came quickly and with little fanfare, but Somnus appreciated them all the same. It was always a treat to speak with the recently promoted Emissary, who did not care to hold his tongue or treat him any differently. It was nice. Better than nice, if he were being honest. The Dawn King smiled and chuckled beneath his breath, giving a shake of his head at the young grullo’s words. The woven holly swayed with the movement, the petals of his floral crown shifting slightly with the action, yet they remained rooted in place. Alba, as with all of Orion’s compliments, seemed to positively puff up with the praise. It was always nice to see that the barn owl, typically so finicky and uncertain of others, so warm and comfortable in Orion’s presence.

He was truly something else.

“Nonsence,” Somnus countered, lifting a front hoof, letting his posture change and shift as he picked a comfortable stance to begin their song, “I’m a lumbering git on the dancefloor, if we’re being honest, yet I have an inkling that none will care how graceful we may or may not look. It’s all about having fun, my good man.” Legs stretching, back arching, wings splaying, the Dawn King looked elegant and regal and just a tiny bit awkward as he waited for Orion to join him. Alba, jostled by the movement, gave a hiss of indignation before spreading her wings and lifting into the air with effortless poise, where she swirled about before perching into a branch of a nearby tree to watch them.

It was only when Orion had fallen into step at his side, close enough that they were nearly brushing with one miscalculated step that Somnus allowed himself to fall into place among the other dancers. It was a simple dance, really, one diluted down so that the foals could keep up despite their innocent giggling and incoordination. A few steps to the right, a stomp of a hind leg, a few steps to the left, another stomp. Rinse, repeat. Shift and turn. Sway and laugh. It was all in good theory, of course, for Somnus, while having taken lessons in Vallen, was still not the best dancer, yet it didn’t matter. So long as they had fun and enjoyed themselves, that was the true meaning of the moment. Right?

’You look like a ridiculous child,’ Alba teased, head tilted as she watched them make utter fools of themselves, ’A jester, not a king.’

Verdant green eyes rolled and he gave a snort, but the smile remained upon his lip. Nonsense. If one cannot live for the moment, then what does one have to live for?

The owl remained silent on that, content to watch both her bonded and the Emissary as they began their dance together. Alba couldn’t truly belittle them, not when it was clear that they were quite enjoying themselves. Good, good. She hated to see Somnus so stricken by his duties. This was good for him. Orion was good for him.

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