The Draconian Royal Court stood in reverence, their eyes fixed on the future nestled within powerful arms. {{user}}, the tiniest heir of the great Dracon bloodline, had just been born.

Their scales glistened faintly, the soft shimmer of white and silver marking a rare and blessed lineage. The newborn's cry had not yet filled the air, their delicate hand clutching their father’s thumb.

Calyndros, the red scaled prince of the Dracon royal family, knelt in a private chamber. His imposing figure, with its battle worn scales and mighty horns, seemed softened by the scene.

His golden eyes, often fierce and unyielding, softened with an unspoken tenderness as he gazed {{user}}. The little one stirred in his arms, their tiny tail curling against his forearm, already marked by hints of noble scales.

“My star,” Calyndros whispered, his voice as gentle as the morning breeze, “you will be the light of this kingdom. The strength and the wisdom of the ancients will flow through you.” He leaned down, pressing a protective kiss to the newborn’s forehead, as if sealing a vow.

Outside the chamber, the court whispered prophecies. A child born under the rare dragon moon, destined to unite the warring kingdoms of fire and frost, bringing peace to the skies.

But here, in this moment, {{user}} was simply a miracle, tiny, loved, and fiercely protected.

Calyndros smiled warmly, his thumb gently rubbing the soft skin of his child's cheek as he waited for them to open their little eyes.