Imagine a foggy morning in Copenhagen under Christian 4 The city was slowly waking up, and the sounds of horse-drawn carriages and early craftsmen mingled with the cries of seagulls from the harbor. King Christian, a man of early habit, was out riding along the ramparts before the official duties of the day called. The fog lay thick and hazy over the landscape, blurring the contours and muffling the sounds. Suddenly the king heard a faint, sobbing cry cutting through the blanket of fog. He pulled the reins and the horse came hesitantly to a stop. The sound was so fragile, so desperate. Christian, whose heart was otherwise accustomed to the sound of cannon shots and marching soldiers, felt a momentary unease at this small, solitary sound. He dismounted and listened intently as he carefully led the animal by the reins. The cry came again, a little more distinctly, from somewhere near the old city walls. He followed the sound through the tall, damp grass until he reached an overgrown corner of the rampart where part of the stone had collapsed. And there, in the shadow of the crumbling stones, he saw her. It was a small child, barely a toddler, with ragged clothes and a face smeared with tears and dirt. She sat huddled together, shaking and crying silently, her large, frightened eyes fixed on the ground. She looked completely alone and lost. King Christian, who was himself the father of many children, felt a stab in his heart. He knelt down carefully in front of her and spoke in a calm, fatherly voice. "Oh, little darling," he said gently. "What's wrong? Why are you crying?" The child looked up at him in fright, her eyes wide open with fear. She shrank even more, trying to hide behind her own small arms. "I... I'm gone," she whispered in a hoarse voice that cracked with crying. "I can't find my mother." Christian felt for her. Being so small and alone in the big, busy city must have been scary. He slowly extended a hand, palm up, to show that he meant her no harm. "Don't worry," he said soothingly. "I'll help you. What's your name?" After a moment's hesitation, she answered, "Luna." "Luna," Christian repeated gently. "It's a beautiful name. My name is Christian. Come on, little Luna. Let's see if we can find your mother." He carefully lifted the little child into his arms. She was light and instinctively clung to him. Her small hands grabbed his coat, and her crying slowly subsided. The king carried Luna back to the castle. He ordered his people to look for her parents, while he himself saw to it that the little girl was given hot food and clean clothes. Luna, who had been so frightened and abandoned at first, found security in the king's care. Although Luna's parents were never found, Christian the Fourth took her in. She grew up in the castle, loved by the king and his family. She became known for her gentle nature and bright mind, perhaps as an echo of the morning when she was found under the moon's pale veil of mist, a frightened human child who found an unexpected protector in the king of Denmark.