The nursery was a sanctuary of royal splendor and suffocating vigilance. The walls, adorned with intricately carved depictions of dragons soaring through clouds and cresting waves, shimmered faintly under the warm, enchanted glow of hanging crystal lanterns. Golden runes weaved through the woodwork, pulsing gently like a heartbeat—wards placed by Daenerys herself to ensure her son's safety. To the maids bustling about the room, it was a sacred space. To Sly, it was a gilded prison.
Nestled in his crib of polished obsidian and velvet, the infant prince sat upright, staring with unblinking golden eyes at the holographic screen only he could see.
System Login Successful
Rewards:
Big Teddy Bear
Baby Blanket
Toy Glock
Plastic Bullets
A hollow laugh escaped his lips—not that anyone would recognize it as such. It sounded more like a coo, the kind that would have the maids giggling about how
'precious' he was. 'Precious, my scaled behind', he thought bitterly.
'Two months of this,' he muttered internally. 'two whole months of pacifiers, swaddles, and disappointment. And this is what I get? A toy Glock? What am I supposed to do with plastic bullets, system? Win a duel against boredom?'
He huffed, or at least tried to. The sound that came out was an adorable snort that would make even the most stoic warrior melt. Grimacing, he clumsily grabbed the crib's edge with his chubby fingers, pulling himself to his feet. His movements were shaky but determined, his tiny legs wobbling under the weight of his absurdly small body. A triumphant grin crossed his face. He was getting better at this.
Across the room, two maids glanced up from their tasks, their smiles warm but wary. One, a siren with flowing silver hair and emerald eyes, nudged the other. "He's up again. You think he's plotting something?"
The other, a stocky dragonkin with ruby scales flecked with gold, chuckled. "Always. The little prince is too clever for his size. Lady Daenerys wasn't joking when she said to keep our eyes on him."
Their voices carried a teasing affection, but Sly didn't miss the subtle tension in their movements. He had earned his reputation. In the past month, he had tried—repeatedly—to escape his nursery fortress. Once, he had even managed to hypnotize a guard with his underdeveloped Dao Pupils, convincing the poor soul to take him for a stroll outside the palace walls. The spell had worn off almost immediately, but the fallout had been spectacular. Daenerys had enchanted his diapers with a tracking rune after that.
'Humiliating,' he grumbled inwardly. 'A grown man reduced to this...'
But his thoughts darkened as they often did. The dream—the same one, night after night—rose unbidden in his mind. The faces of Tristan and that wretched woman flashed before him, their betrayal a fresh wound that time and worlds had not dulled. He clenched his tiny fists, nails pressing into soft palms. His body might be that of a helpless infant, but his soul burned with anger and frustration.
He didn't realize his emotions were spilling over until the first tear slid down his cheek.
'No, no, no! Not this again!' he thought, panicked. But his infant body had other ideas. His chest heaved, and before he could stop it, a wail burst forth, filling the room with a sound that could shatter hearts.
The maids reacted immediately, rushing to his side. The siren reached him first, her delicate hands lifting him effortlessly from the crib. Her touch was gentle but firm, and her melodic voice hummed a soothing tune as she cradled him close. "'What's wrong, little prince? Are you hungry? Or maybe you need your sucking thingy?"
Sly's cries grew louder. 'Sucking thingy?! What am I, a pet? I demand respect, not a pacifier!'
Another maid, a slender selkie with soft brown eyes, darted over with the dreaded object in hand. "Here, here," she said, fumbling with the pacifier as if it were some sacred relic. "Let's try this."
Before Sly could muster another protest, the siren deftly popped the pacifier into his mouth. His treacherous instincts took over, and he began sucking on it reflexively. The soothing rhythm silenced his cries almost instantly, though the storm in his mind raged on.
'Curse this body,' he thought, mortified. 'Curse this blasted pacifier, and curse these overly attentive maids!'
The siren chuckled, adjusting him in her arms. "See? It works every time. It must be enchanted. I wonder what spell it uses."
Another maid leaned in, squinting at the pacifier as though it held the secrets of the universe. "Maybe it's infused with calming runes? Or dragon magic? He's so much quieter with it."
As they theorized, Sly glared at the floating system screen still visible in the corner of his vision.
System Notification:
Achievement Unlocked: "Pacified Prince"
Reward: +5 Cuteness Buff
If looks could kill, the screen would have combusted on the spot. Instead, Sly let out a muffled groan, the sound lost in the rhythmic sucking of the pacifier.
The maids cooed over him, oblivious to his internal turmoil. "You're such a sweet little prince," the siren murmured, pressing a kiss to his forehead.
Sly's soul cried out in despair. 'f this is my new life, I might as well embrace villainy when I grow up. This humiliation cannot go unpunished.'