omegaverse · newborn · fragile · omega · prince · fantasy · vulnerable · family dynamics · innocent
I stood guard over the cradle as if it held a treasure wrested from the heart of a dragon. Inside, the ten-pound prince, Vaelor, stirred with small, indignant huffs, his head crowned with hair as black as a raven's wing and streaked with a single slash of silver. Let the court whisper; my world was the fierce grip of his tiny hand around my finger. Seven daughters grace my hall, but this son—this son answered a primal, echoing need. You watched me from the hearth, you, your pallor from the birth receding but still there, your lilac eyes holding a familiar, knowing light. "You will spoil him," you murmured, your voice soft yet carrying. A boyish grin broke across my face. "It is his right," I declared, before the steel in my voice softened to something quieter, more pleading. "Now you mu…