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Nikandros was a man of many duties. Kyros by title, commander by sword, and trusted advisor to the crown, he stood ever at the side of his King.
Today he was also, apparently, babysitter.
Reluctantly so.
“The Vaskians press their advantage, and— I- Uh. Yes. Thank you, My Prince.” Nikandros said distractedly, his attention divided between the strategies laid out before him and the young heir to the throne, who persistently presented him yet another piece of paper adorned with a child's erratic scribble. “That is very…. Helpful.”
The young prince, barely seven summers old, beamed up at Nikandros with an innocent grin that belied the chaos he had caused in the council room.
King Damianos, seated at the head of the table with his wife, suppressed a sigh. Damen, in his infinite wisdom and stubborn resolve, had decreed the young Prince’s inclusion in today's assembly.
Earlier, Nikandros had overheard the heated exchange between him and his Queen. Damen stated that the boy needed to start learning the intricacies of statecraft if he were to ascend the throne one day. Laurent had been of the opinion that the boy was still too young.
Though loath to admit it, Nikandros found himself in rare accord with the Queen’s sentiments on this particular occasion.
Nikandros steeled himself and pressed on. "As I was saying, Exalted, the border territories require immediate reinforcement. The Vaskian incursions—“
"Uncle Nikki!" The Prince's small voice sliced through his concentration, a triumphant sound accompanying yet another piece of paper thrust into Nikandros' hand. "I‘ve drawn a dragon this time!”
Nikandros glanced down at the paper, where chaotic lines and loops, barely distinguishable from the previous drawings, purportedly formed the shape of the fearsome creature.
With a concerted effort, he turned back to the King and Queen. Damianos remained stoic, while Laurent made little effort to conceal his amusement, a hand resting lightly on his rounded belly. Nikandros couldn't help but suspect the Queen found some satisfaction in these interruptions.
"Exalted, we must deploy additional forces to the northern front. The Vaskians grow bolder, and—"
"Uncle Nikki! Look here! This one's breathing fire!"
Forcing a smile that felt as strained as a fort under siege, Nikandros nodded curtly. "Very fierce, My Prince. Now, about the Vaskians—"
A tug at his sleeve. "But Uncle Nikki, you didn’t see the wings!"
"The wings, yes. Quite splendid," Nikandros said, casting a quick glance at the boy before refocusing on the map spread across the table. "The Vaskians are growing bolder. If we don't—"
"Uncle Nikki, look! It's eating a castle!" The boy’s voice, louder and more insistent, cut through once more. The latest drawing, a swirl of red and black, was shoved into his line of sight right atop the Vaskian borders.
Nikandros' patience, a finely honed blade dulled by the constant interruptions, began to fray. He cast a pleading look at the King, who merely raised an eyebrow, as if to say: This is your problem to solve.
Nikandros sighed inwardly, his thoughts briefly drifting to the simpler days when his responsibilities were solely on the battlefield.
“Nikandros, you were saying?" Damianos prompted.
Nikandros gritted his teeth, aware of the King's unwavering gaze. "Yes, Exalted. As I’ve been saying, the northern borders require immediate fortification. The Vaskians—"
The Prince, not to be deterred, tugged on Nikandros' sleeve. "Uncle Nikki-“
Before Nikandros could answer, Queen Laurent, who had been quietly observing the proceedings and no doubt silently reveling in the chaos he had predicted come to life, whispered under his breath, "I did mention he might find the meeting a tad advanced for his age."
Damen, his own patience wearing thin, shot his wife a brief glare in return, though there was little true heat in it. Laurent, for his part, only responded with a sweet smile. The King turned his stern attention back to his son. "Augustus," he said firmly, "you need to listen now. This is important."
Augustus pouted, his lower lip jutting out in a playful defiance. "But Uncle Nikki said my dragon was fierce!"
Nikandros managed a faint smile, and ruffled the boy’s hair in a fond gesture. The boy was sweet, even if incredibly stubborn. But with his parents who they were, it was a given that he’d be the persistent sort. “It is very fierce, my Prince.” Nikandros agreed. “We can discuss the dragons later, alright?”
The young prince sighed dramatically but reluctantly settled back into his chair, albeit with a small pout. Nikandros seized the momentary calm to continue his briefing, outlining the pressing concerns along the border and the diplomatic negotiations with neighboring kingdoms.
Yet, true to his nature, the boy's attention soon wavered.
"Uncle Nikki, can I have that?" The young Prince’s hand shot out, aiming for the ornate dagger lying among the parchments.
Nikandros, eyes still on the map, deftly intercepted the grab with practiced ease. “No, My Prince," he said. "This is not a plaything."
The boy's face fell into another pout, far too reminiscent of his mother for Nikandros’s liking, before quickly shifting tactics to a more insistent approach, tugging at Nikandros' sleeve. "But I need it for my dragon," he pleaded.
"The dragon will have to wait," Nikandros replied, his voice firm but gentle. He glanced at the King, who was watching with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. "Damianos, as I was saying, if we move the men to garrison—"
"Please, Uncle Nikki, just for a minute!" The boy’s voice climbed in volume and urgency, his small fingers now attempting to pry the dagger from Nikandros' grasp.
“Stop it. Enough.” Nikandros' patience finally snapped, his voice hardening with the threat of the young boy accidentally slicing himself open. “Release it at once!”
“Is the Heir to the throne bothering you, Nikandros?” The voice of Queen Laurent, smooth as silk but laced with an undercurrent of amusement, rang out from where he lounged with languid grace beside his husband. It was worded like a question, but spoken like a command.
The effect was immediate: both Nikandros and Prince Augustus snapped to attention, their hands freezing on the dagger.
“No, no-“ Nikandros, usually unshakable, faltered. His gaze flickered from the Queen to the young prince and back again, trying to work out where the trap laid in Laurent’s words. “Not in the least, I-"
But the mere distraction, however fleeting, proved enough for the cunning prince to snatch the dagger from Nikandros' grasp.
The room stilled. Even King Damianos, ever watchful, tensed. "Augustus—"
Before the King could finish, Queen Laurent's cut through again, cool and precise. "Excellent," he said, laying a calming hand on Damen’s arm. “Because I believe the Prince wants a ride.”
“A ride?” Nikandros asked hesitantly, recognizing the familiar look of mischief in Laurent’s expression.
Laurent smiled pleasantly. “A pony ride.” He said lightly, then looked to his son. “Wouldn’t that be fun, Augustus? Should the Kyros Nikandros be your royal steed?”
"Laurent? Darling," Damen interjected once more, but his words were drowned out by the boy’s enthusiastic giggles.
Augustus, now fully engaged in the idea, bounced on his heels, brandishing the dagger excitedly. “Yes, yes! Uncle Nikki, be my horsie!"
Nikandros exchanged a helpless look with King Damianos, who balanced between amusement and the solemnity of royal decorum. "My Prince, perhaps another time," Nikandros ventured, aiming for the blend of authority and gentleness he remembered his own father somehow always managed.
But Augustus, the little brat, was having none of it. "Please, Uncle Nikki!" he insisted, tugging on Nikandros' sleeve.
"Augustus, my little love," Laurent said gently, managing that coaxing yet firm tone seemingly without trying, like a velvet glove over steel. “Nikandros can't be your steed if he's worried about the dagger. Why don't you give it to me?" Laurent extended a hand.
The boy hesitated, torn between his newfound game and the coveted dagger, which he held tightly in his small hand.
Finally, under his mother's steady gaze, he reluctantly handing the dagger over. "Okay, mama," he said, a hint of disappointment tempered by anticipation in his voice.
"There now, it’s settled," Laurent declared with finality, his tone brooking no argument, as he placed the dagger out of reach. "Now, Kyros Nikandros, if you would kindly lower yourself so my son may mount."
Nikandros glanced at the King, whose stern expression softened just a fraction. He sighed and knelt, resigned but good humoured as he made himself the target of the young prince's boundless energy. “Very well, My Prince," he said, his voice tinged with reluctant amusement. "Up you go."
Augustus clambered onto Nikandros' back with surprising agility for his age, giggling all the while. Nikandros straightened up slowly, feeling the weight of the boy on his shoulders. "Hold on tight," he advised, knowing full well that this game would not end until Augustus had his fill.
Damen shook his head with a fond smile, watching the scene unfold. "You’re spoiling him, Laurent," he remarked, though his tone held no real reproach.
"Let him have his fun," Laurent replied with a smile, leaning back in his chair as he smoothed a hand over his belly. “It does them both good." He said as he watched the stern commander, now an impromptu steed, begin to trot around the room, careful and steady. "Make sure to gallop fast, Nikandros!” He called playfully. “His Royal Highness demands speed!”