The little one.

"I'll eat! I'll eat!" Arian rushed back toward her, his curly hair bouncing as he ran back to her.

The little prince was the carbon copy of his father except for his dark curly hair which he had inherited from his mother.

 But just as Nila reached out to scoop him up, he darted to the side, giggling uncontrollably.

At that moment, Cyrus appeared at the end of the corridor, his tall figure framed by the sunlight streaming through the palace windows. His presence was magnetic, and even little Arian couldn't help but stop in his tracks.

"What's going on here?" Cyrus asked, his deep voice tinged with confusion as he took in the scene, Nila standing with her messy gown, the bowl of porridge in her hand, and their son frozen mid-escape.

The boy skidded to a halt, his eyes widening as he turned to face his father.

"Come here," Cyrus ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.