The nursery was silent except for the faint, rhythmic breathing of the royal prince. The child, still unnamed but already a harbinger of change, lay swaddled in silken blankets embroidered with golden dragon motifs. His tiny chest rose and fell steadily, yet his mind was anything but calm. Deep within, memories not his own surfaced—a life marked by pain, betrayal, and sorrow.
In his sleep, the prince whimpered, his tiny hands twitching as if warding off unseen demons.
The world shifted. The prince found himself in a narrow, dimly lit alley, the damp air heavy with despair. He was no longer an infant but a young man—Sly—a figure hardened by hardship. The scent of decay and the clatter of distant footsteps filled the air. He stood alone, his clothes tattered and soaked by rain. This was his past life, a reality born of relentless struggle.
His parents were gone, taken from him in a car crash when he was barely old enough to understand loss. With no relatives willing to take him in, he had been thrust into the cold system of orphanages and foster homes, each more indifferent than the last. The whispers of his peers haunted him.
"He's strange. No wonder no one wanted him."
"Look at him—always so serious, like he's better than us."
But Sly wasn't aloof—he was desperate. Desperate to survive, to escape the suffocating loneliness, to find someone who would care.
The alley morphed into a bustling street. Sly now wore a cleaner outfit, a sharp contrast to his earlier image. He had clawed his way into a steady job at a prestigious firm, a feat few orphans could boast of. But the effort had drained him. Sleepless nights, skipped meals, and endless sacrifices left him with dark circles under his strikingly handsome eyes. His good looks and perseverance should have been his assets, yet they only made him a target.
The scene blurred again, and Sly found himself seated in a warm café, his heart beating faster as he glanced at the woman across from him. Lois. She was radiant, her smile a beacon in his bleak world. He had met her through Tristan, a wealthy heir who had initially shown Sly kindness. Lois had been his anchor, the promise of a better life.
But deep down, a shadow of doubt lingered.
"Why would someone like her choose someone like me?"
The doubt gnawed at him, but he ignored it. He wanted to believe he could finally be happy.
The dream turned darker. Sly was back at his office, blindsided by the announcement.
"Your position has been terminated."
He pleaded with the board, his voice trembling. "I've given this company everything—why now?"
They avoided his gaze. "It's not personal, Sly. The board has decided. Pack your things."
He stumbled out, his legs weak, his mind racing. His savings were meager, his debts mounting. But even as the world crumbled around him, one hope remained: Lois.
The memory shifted again, this time to a hotel room bathed in soft, golden light. Sly stood in the doorway, his hands trembling as he held the small velvet box in his pocket. He had planned to propose that day. The promise of a future with Lois had kept him afloat.
But the scene before him froze him in place. Tristan and Lois, tangled together, their laughter cruel and sharp.
Tristan's smirk was venomous. "You really thought someone like her would settle for someone like you? Don't be naive, Sly."
Lois's voice followed, soft but cutting. "You're a sweet guy, Sly, but let's be honest—you were never enough."
The box slipped from his hand, the sound of it hitting the floor drowned by the pounding of his heart. The betrayal was unbearable. Everything he had worked for, every shred of hope, was gone in an instant.
The pain in his chest grew unbearable. His vision blurred, and the last thing he saw was their mocking faces.
The prince awoke with a start, his tiny body trembling. His golden eyes opened wide, shimmering with unshed tears. His cry broke the silence of the nursery, piercing and filled with an inexplicable sorrow.
Daenerys was at his side in an instant, her gentle hands cradling him. "Hush, little one. You're safe." Her voice was soft and soothing, but the prince's cries didn't cease immediately.
Arman entered the room, his stoic demeanor momentarily cracking as he knelt beside them. "What troubles him so?" he asked, his deep voice tinged with concern.
"I don't know," Daenerys replied, rocking the child gently.
The baby eventually settled, his cries fading into soft whimpers. But even as he drifted back into an uneasy sleep, the shadows of his past life lingered in his mind.