Threats.

The cake was a masterpiece, five tiers of sugary delight, each layer painted with scenes of Arian's favourite stories, from brave knights to magical forests. At the very top stood a miniature figure of Arian, crafted from sugar, holding a tiny toy sword.

The crowd of guests, including royals, palace staff, and close friends, gathered around in anticipation. Arian stood at the forefront, his eyes wide with awe as he took in the towering confection. Nila knelt beside him, adjusting his little tunic and brushing a stray curl from his forehead. "Ready, my love?" she asked, her voice soft and full of warmth.

"Ready!" Arian exclaimed, practically bouncing on his toes.

Cyrus approached with his usual composure, though a faint smile played on his lips. He placed a firm but gentle hand on Arian's shoulder. "A prince must always lead his people," he said, his tone affectionate despite its seriousness. "So, lead us in cutting the cake, Arian."