The dining hall shimmered with soft light, its golden walls etched with ancient runes that pulsed faintly, reflecting the vitality of the kingdom. The royal family gathered around the long table adorned with delicately crafted dishes. The scent of roasted sea kelp and spiced coral broth mingled in the air, but the focus was on the youngest member of their lineage, perched in his gilded high chair.
The prince, still struggling with his coordination, had managed to smear his food across his cheeks and even his tiny golden antlers. Daenerys sighed, a mixture of amusement and exasperation lighting her features, as she leaned over with a soft cloth to clean his face.
"Look at you," she murmured, dabbing gently at his cheek. "Our little prince, already making his mark."
Kayla, seated to his left, deftly intercepted a spoon as the prince's tiny hand fumbled for it, just in time to prevent it from clattering to the polished coral floor. "First, he conquers his dinner," she teased, "then, the world."
Arman, seated at the head of the table, allowed himself a rare smile. "It's a battle we've all faced," he said, golden eyes flicking toward Daenerys, the warmth in them tempered by the weight of his duties. "Though I don't recall the others making quite this much of a mess."
The prince glared—or tried to, but his wide golden eyes and flushed cheeks made him look more endearing than intimidating. His tiny fingers tried and failed to grasp the spoon Kayla held with exaggerated patience. This is humiliating, he thought, his mind still sharp and mature despite the babyish body he inhabited.' I was a man once, a bloody man.'Now I can't even hold a spoon without fumbling like a child.'
He glanced at his family, mortified by their indulgent smiles. 'They think it's endearing. God help me.'
Daenerys chuckled softly, her gaze lingering on the child. "It's been so long since we've had a little one at the table," she said, her tone wistful. "I remember when Theros was at this stage. He was a terror—he'd launch his food at anyone who came near him."
Kayla laughed, leaning back in her chair. "That sounds about right. He's still a terror, just with sharper claws and worse jokes."
"And less of a filter," Balthazar intoned from his place near the head of the table, his deep voice carrying the weight of centuries. His golden antlers seemed to absorb the light around him, casting an almost divine glow. Despite the playful tone, his dignity remained unassailable. "The boy has a way of turning mischief into an art form."
"Theros' mischief was a headache then, and it remains so now." Daenerys smiled wistfully as she dabbed at the prince's cheek again. "I miss those days when all they needed was a soft lullaby or a gentle hand to calm them. Azarios was always so solemn, even as a child. He used to hold Theros's hand to keep him from running off, like a tiny guardian."
Arman nodded, his expression softening. "Azarios has grown into his role. Securing the borders and preparing for what may come—it's no small task. He carries it with the weight of his ancestors."
A new voice cut through the room, rough and unpolished yet full of humor. "Headache? Theros has nothing on me."
The hall filled with laughter as all eyes turned to Tydarin, Arman's younger brother and the prince's uncle. His golden antlers bore faint scars, and his rough demeanor contrasted starkly with the royal formality of the room. His arrival had been unexpected—he strode into the hall just hours earlier, his travel-worn tunic and easy grin an immediate reminder of his roguish charm.
"Father sent me to the Titanclads when I was just a fledgling, claiming I was a menace." Tydarin grinned broadly, casting a wink at Balthazar. "Best decision he ever made."
Balthazar's gaze remained steady, though his lips twitched in a semblance of a smile. "If by 'best decision,' you mean sparing the kingdom your antics, then yes."
Tydarin roared with laughter, clapping a hand on the table. "Ah, father, still sharp as ever."
The prince watched the interplay with a mixture of embarrassment and fascination. 'So, this is what my family is like—formidable, yet utterly ridiculous.'
Daenerys's gaze returned to him, her expression softening further as she brushed a strand of golden hair from his face. "And now we have you," she murmured, her voice almost a whisper. "Another light in our family. Your naming ceremony will be the start of your story, just as the Dragon Gate ceremony marked the others."
Arman's golden eyes met hers, the warmth replaced by a king's authority. "It will be a moment for the kingdom to rally around. The people need hope—and a name for their prince."
Kayla leaned closer to the prince, holding the spoon again. "Come on, little one. Let's try again. Open wide!"
The prince hesitated, then complied, his tiny lips parting to accept the food. 'Well, at least I won't starve'. He chewed clumsily, his golden eyes narrowing as he determinedly swallowed. 'One victory at a time.'
Kayla grinned. "There! He's learning."
Daenerys laughed softly, folding her hands. "He'll have to learn quickly. The Dragon Gate waits for no one."
The room grew quiet. The Dragon Gate—a sacred rite of passage that tested every member of the royal line. Tales of fiery trials and visions of ancestors whispered through their memories. Even the youngest would not escape its challenge.
"The Gate will test him," Balthazar said, his voice low and resonant. "But this one…" He fixed his piercing golden gaze on the prince. "He will rise."
The prince felt the weight of their expectations settle around him. From the hushed voices of the servants to the glowing runes in the walls, the kingdom seemed to watch. But Daenerys's warm hand on his tiny one pulled him back. Her gaze, filled with love and nostalgia, reminded him of something he'd long forgotten: the strength of family.
Perhaps this life won't be so bad after all, he mused, though his next clumsy attempt at holding the spoon drew another round of laughter. Humiliating, yes. But not without its moments of peace.