(POV Aeris & Arion)
For a royal palace in a state of apparent crisis, things were suspiciously dull. At least, that was the collective opinion of Aeris and Arion, heirs to the Velmorian throne, four years old, and utterly convinced they were both criminally underappreciated and tragically bored.
Currently, Aeris lay sprawled dramatically across the marble floor of their playroom, gazing at the ornately painted ceiling. Golden vines twisted across the domed surface, entwined around portraits of ancient heroes wielding gleaming swords.
"Bored," she announced for the fifth time in as many minutes, arms stretched wide, red-gold curls spreading like spilled honey.
Arion, perched atop an enormous velvet cushion, swung his legs idly. He studied the wooden toy dragon in his hands with a resigned sigh.
"Maybe we should escape," he suggested, in the tone of one discussing the weather rather than a daring plot.
