"You're up early," I whisper, picking him up as the sun barely leaks through the windows of the palace.
Right away small arms wrap around my frame, holding on tight as he rests his head upon my chest, closing his beautiful eyes. Eyes just like his father, a pair of golden brown that remind me of fall colors.
"Just keep him on your side," Zion mumbles, his head flat in the pillow as the King looks aged, at least by two or three years, a thin beard from probably a few days unshaven, his hair a bit longer, and looking exhausted. "I'll take him down in another forty minutes."
Sitting up, I smile, kissing my son's head as I look to Zion as he goes back into a deep slumber. "River, you will one day rule what your father rules," I whisper, my son laying down upon my lap as the sunlight greets
