When Xion stepped out for a stroll the next day, there was an odd excitement lingering in the air. Everyone seemed to be busy with something.
Even the guards were more alert.
"The morning is beautiful today, is it not, Your Grace?"
Xion hummed softly.
Nazia had assigned him a helper. A little lady, about the same age as Noxian.
"Be careful, Your Grace," Luna said while helping her lord down the stairs. Her grip was gentle on Xion's hand as she carefully led him forward.
As he made his way to the garden pavilion, the fragrance of flowers drifted into his lungs. He raised his hand, catching the lazily drifting snow in his palm.
It melted, leaving behind a wetness. Cold.
The North was always cold, and Xion, who was fond of the sun, found himself strangely liking it.
Even the chill of the chair beneath him didn't dampen his smile.
I wonder when Darius will return, Xion mused to himself, letting the little girl drape a blanket over him.
