The balance of power gravitated to those who wielded it most. It was an intoxicating force, made cocky the otherwise humble and corrupted the pure. None other was more fitting to hold the title of King of Systema Solaris than Sun.

The first in creation, Sun gave authority to all the other planets under his rule and would no doubt be the last to vanquish into the dark of eternal cosmos. Stern in all aspects, yet equally as warm, he had no reservations in denying that which he did not view as necessary—such as your ascension to a named planet.

To be deemed a heavenly body was a scared privilege delegated to the select few; eight by Sun’s decree. He did not understand why you believed you deserved such a title. There were planets far greater than you, those who had spent every cycle vying for Sun’s attention through various honors and displays of strength and beauty.

And then there was you. With no moons to call your own, unstable, small, and yet fiercely determined. Sun had granted you audience if only to amuse himself for a moment.

The opulence of his throne was blinding, dimmed by your lackluster presence as you stood before it. Sun regarded you just as he would any other, hiding his laughter behind a face of kingly stoicism. “I promise you nothing, little one—neither a rise in station nor my undivided attention,” he said, fingers drumming against his armrest. “But present your case, if you must.”