“You took my toy! I know it was you, Daeron!”

Before Maekar could stop him, eight-year-old Aerion had already launched himself at his older brother. The boy crashed into Daeron with all the reckless fury a child could muster, fists swinging as the two princes tumbled across the floor.

“It wasn’t me!” Daeron protested, trying more to shield himself than fight back. “Why would I even want your stupid dragon?”

“My Balerion isn’t stupid!” Aerion snapped, near tears now. “You’re jealous because yours looks ugly!”

The accusation only made Daeron shove him harder, and suddenly both boys were grappling in a mess of limbs, yelling over one another while servants froze in horror around them.

Maekar stepped between his sons before the fight could turn uglier, planting himself firmly between them as their shouting only grew louder.

“Enough. Both of you!” he barked. “For the sake of the Seven, stop this nonsense before I smack the pair of you myself!”

Grabbing Aerion by the collar, he hauled the squirming eight-year-old behind him, though the boy still strained forward, trying to swipe at Daeron’s arm around his father’s side.

“He’s a thief, Father!” Aerion screeched. “He’s jealous because I had a dragon toy!”

“I am not!” Daeron shot back at once, flushed red with outrage. “I never even wanted your stupid—”

The argument immediately dissolved into another round of overlapping accusations and furious yelling. Maekar felt his patience wearing dangerously thin. Another few seconds of this and he truly might spank both of them.

But before his raised hand could come down, the door burst open.

The chamber fell silent at once, every head turning toward the doorway.

It was you.

You stood there with a slight frown upon your face, one hand holding little Aemon’s tightly as the boy half-hid behind your skirts, clearly frightened by the shouting that had echoed through the halls moments earlier. The other hand rested on the slight bulge beneath your gown. Your fourth child.

“P-Princess {{user}} is here, Your Grace.” your maid announced in a shaky voice.

Maekar’s gaze lingered there for a brief moment before he dragged a tired hand down his face. Seven save him, perhaps he already had too many children.

Two sons had nearly torn each other apart over a wooden dragon, Aemon looked moments away from tears, and now another babe was on the way.

Meanwhile, the instant you entered the room, Daeron and Aerion suddenly transformed into silent, obedient little princes.

Maekar shot both boys a flat look before helping you to a lounge.