Her Royal Highness

"Father... Father."

The soft voice of a young girl, around eight years old, stirred her sleeping father. Slowly, he opened his eyes, revealing a man in his thirties, his striking blue eyes and golden blond hair adding to his regal appearance.

He glanced affectionately at his beaming daughter, who stood before him, holding a freshly picked daisy.

"Father, look what I found," the girl exclaimed, her joy evident as she proudly presented the flower. Her father watched her with warmth in his eyes.

"Do you like this flower?" he asked, a smile tugging at his lips. His daughter nodded eagerly, her own smile reflecting his.

"Your mama used to love daisies too," he reminisced, his thoughts drifting to his wife.

"Is Mama pretty?" the curious girl inquired, her innocent curiosity shining through.

"Of course," he affirmed, scooping his daughter onto his lap. "She's beautiful, just like you," he added, gently pinching her cheek. His daughter pondered this, her thoughts lingering on her absent mother.

"Or maybe even prettier than you?" he teased playfully, earning a pout from his daughter. Chuckling, the man admired her adorable expression.

But then, the girl uttered "Father" in a tone tinged with sadness and reluctance. Instantly, his smile vanished, replaced by a look of concern as he regarded her.

"What is it, my princess?" he asked, his voice filled with worry, waiting for her to share her troubles.

"About Mama, you said she went to a faraway land," the princess remarked, her father's worry evident as he gazed at her. But he quickly brushed it off, offering her a reassuring smile.

"Where is this faraway land?" she asked, her curiosity piqued. Her father paused, as if considering his response, before diverting the conversation, asking if she missed her mother instead, attempting to lighten the mood. The princess nodded in response.

"I want to play with Mama too," she pouted, longing to see and play with her absent mother.

"So, you don't want to play with me?" her father teased, feigning a pout to cheer up his unhappy daughter. She chuckled at his playful antics, likening his expression to that of a duck, which only made him laugh along with her.

Eight years had passed since Casimir's failed attempt to assassinate the newborn princess. With the palace now under the control of King Themis' cousin, Christos, confusion reigned among the people about the disappearance of the royal families following the princess's birth.

King Themis and his daughter resided in seclusion near Absalom, under the protection of the priest Damayanti, ensuring the princess's safety. Despite his longing for Ayira's presence, Themis showed no sign of weakness or sadness in front of his daughter. He remained steadfast in his commitment to protect her, mentally steeling himself against the burden of his emotions.

"Your Highness," a man interrupted their tender moment, prompting Themis to gently set Ayira down. "Go play, my dear. Papa has some business to attend to," he instructed, before turning to the newcomer—a disciple of the Tower of Ariadne, renowned for its skilled magicians.

Leading the man to his office, Themis gestured for him to follow.

"Any news?" he inquired.