After a bit of coaxing, Sly grew drowsy and succumbed to sleep. His tiny body was always bursting with energy, but it seemed a little patience and gentle persistence were all it took to settle him. Daenerys carefully placed him back in the crib, her movements delicate and precise, as though the slightest misstep might disturb his slumber.
Her gaze fell on the pacifier resting next to him. She picked it up, examining the intricate design carved into its surface—an unusual blend of runes and motifs she didn't immediately recognize.
"Where did he get this?" she murmured, her golden eyes narrowing. "A gift from one of the kin, perhaps?" She sighed softly, setting it back down.
Turning her attention to the nursery, she began to inspect the four grand pillars that supported the room. Her glowing eyes briefly scanned the intricate warding patterns etched into the stone. A faint hum echoed as her antlers shimmered, releasing ripples of energy that cascaded through the space like invisible waves. She closed her eyes, concentrating, and after a moment, the glow faded.
"Everything seems intact," she whispered to herself, shrugging before leaving the room. The doors sealed behind her with a gentle click.
The Throne Room
The grand throne room stood as a monument to the dragon kingdom's might and legacy, its vaulted ceilings adorned with crystalline chandeliers that radiated soft golden light. At its center, King Arman sat in solitary splendor upon his throne, a figure of unparalleled majesty. His imposing form, towering ten meters tall in his humanoid shape, radiated power. His golden antlers seemed to pulse in harmony with the shimmering walls of the chamber.
The rest of the royal family had dispersed to their duties after their shared meal. His younger brother, Tydarin, had left to tour the sprawling cities beneath the sea. Thousands of years had passed since his last visit, and his presence now carried an air of mystery. Known publicly as a diplomat, the truth of his role was far more complex, understood by only a select few.
Arman exhaled deeply, his stoic expression giving no hint of the heavy thoughts occupying his mind. The kingdom itself seemed to breathe with him, its pulse synchronized with his own. He sat alone in contemplative silence until a familiar presence entered the room.
Daenerys approached, her elegant form growing in size as she crossed the threshold. By the time she reached him, she stood nearly eight meters tall, her lithe frame radiating regal confidence. Without hesitation, she leaned against him, her weight a comforting presence as he acknowledged her with a subtle nod. Sliding onto his lap, she smiled at him, her expression soft yet inquisitive.
"What's on your mind, my king?" she asked, her voice warm and teasing. "Worried someone might dare storm our gates to take him from us?"
A deep chuckle rumbled from Arman's chest, his smirk breaking his otherwise stoic demeanor. "Let them try," he said, his voice a resonant baritone that made the very lights in the room flicker.
Daenerys laughed lightly. "Then why the somber mood?" she pressed, tilting her head as she studied his face.
"Behave, my love. This is the throne room," he admonished with a smile, lifting her gently from his lap. He kissed her forehead before standing, his immense frame casting a long shadow over the room.
Daenerys rolled her eyes playfully but said nothing as she followed him. His tone grew more serious as he began to speak.
"I've been thinking about how to manage this crisis without unnecessary bloodshed. The Shadowborne have been dormant for eons. We once thought their defeat was final, but Lysander's prophecy speaks otherwise. Their restlessness was triggered by our son's birth, and now the Obsidian Eye stirs."
He walked to the center of the throne room, where a glowing three-dimensional map appeared, projected through weave alchemy. The intricate system of power, drawn from the very fabric of reality, allowed for such marvels. The map displayed the underwater realms and the regions beyond, marked with glowing lines and shifting dots that indicated movement.
"Azarios has reported disturbances in the cities under our control," Arman continued, gesturing at the map. "Even the kingdoms above the waves are showing signs of preparation. They know of him. They're planning something."
"What about our scouts and spies?" Daenerys asked, stepping closer to the map. Her gaze sharpened as she studied the regions marked by swirling darkness. "Any confirmed movements?"
"None yet," Arman replied, his voice edged with frustration. "Their secrecy is maddening."
Daenerys smirked, a flicker of amusement in her golden eyes. "Why wouldn't they be cautious? They know we're watching from above."
She paused, her expression turning thoughtful. "Should we reach out to our allies—or perhaps call on the World Breachers for assistance?"
Arman shook his head firmly. "Not yet. This is not a war, not yet. A single show of overwhelming power should suffice to remind them of who we are. It's been far too long since they've witnessed the might of the Thousand Realms."
He stood tall, his arms folded behind his back as his gaze returned to the map. In one corner, an ominous patch of darkness began to spread. Black dots fanned out from the void, their paths carving ominous trajectories toward the kingdom's borders.
"They move faster than I anticipated," Arman muttered. His golden antlers glowed faintly, his power thrumming through the room. "We will act soon, but only when the time is right."
Daenerys placed a hand on his arm, her confidence unwavering. "Whatever comes, we will face it together."
Arman nodded, his stoic resolve unshaken. "Together."