Living Doll

Good thing my father was just joking about flying. I imagined myself being taken to the top of the highest building and then just dropped—no thanks, I'm not ready for heights yet. According to father, my transformation was ahead of schedule. Usually, this happens after turning five or six years old, maybe even later, once you are able to absorb enough mana, with guidance from a member of the magic council or someone experienced in teaching mana absorption, he did ask if I knew how to control mana. I couldn't exactly lie, so I told him yes, hoping that would be the end of it. Thankfully, he didn't press for details, simply calling me a genius and moving on. 

Now that I can talk, I could finally start learning more by asking questions. But I had to be careful—asking too many could raise suspicion, and that's the last thing I needed.

We're now on our way to the city, my mother wanted to go shopping since I needed new clothes, cause of my height I was not able to fit the ones they prepared already for a "average size youngling."

As we traveled through the city, I finally had the chance to take in the sights up close. We were riding in a sleek, hovering vehicle. It had a steering wheel of an unusual shape, adorned with an array of buttons and levers, and two rows of seats that faced each other, creating a cozy atmosphere. The seats were comfortable, the material that felt like leather, though I couldn't quite identify it. Given my parents' status as rulers, I presumed the vehicle was a high-end.

As we passed by various buildings, my mother pointed them out and explained their functions. There was the grand cathedral where the goddess was worshipped. Nearby, a bustling workshop crafted elixirs and mystic tonic, while another smithy hammered out armor and crafted intricate weapons. We also saw the library and different marketplaces filled with goods.

My father tapped a button on the side of the door.

"Pull over here," he said.

I guess that was the signal to stop.

For some reason, we came to a stop between two buildings, tucked away in what looked like a narrow alley.

"Do you think anyone will recognize us?" my father asked with a hint of concern.

"I don't think so... or at least I hope not," my mother replied.

I noticed both of them wearing hats, trying to lower them as if they didn't want to be seen.

"Come along, dear," my mother said softly, reaching out to take my hand. My father took the other,

I didn't have to worry about being recognized—this was my first time out in public, especially in this form, so no one knew who I was. 

As we walked across what looked like a cobblestone road, I noticed figures, like the ones I saw during the announcement. Except this time, it was up close and personal, and it was amazing—especially the ones with cat and dog ears and tails. I wanted to touch them; they looked so fluffy. I notice a couple of smaller figures making their way between larger pedestrians, with cute little hats and big boots that look like a size too big; they had to be dwarves, I assume. 

I tried my best to take in everything, but the sheer number of people and buildings made the city feel a little too overwhelming,

"Here we are, dear. My favorite dresses come from this place," my mother said, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

I glanced up at the building, noting the intricate design above the door—a pair of scissors cutting through a thread.

My mother kneeled down to adjust my dress.

"Alright, little one," she said gently, "the people here are very polite and friendly. If anyone asks your name, just say 'Luna.' And if they ask your age, tell them you're eight. You're quite tall for a four-year-old, and if you say you're four, people will quickly guess who we are."

It didn't take much for me to connect the dots—dragons aren't born every day, making my birth something special. It was clear now why there had been such a grand announcement.

Ding, Ding, the door chime as we entered.

A short, adorable young lady approached us. She had red hair that resembled yarn, a face full of cute freckles, and round glasses. She exuded an aura that made me want to hug her.

"Good afternoon. My name is Isabella. How can I be of service?" She asked with a warm smile.

"I would like to have a few dresses made for my little one," my mother replied, her voice subtly disguised.

"Absolutely lovely! We'd be delighted to dress your little one. Since this is your first time here, lets make it extra special;

Isabella clapped her hands, and other equally charming women appeared with trays of tea and cookies, leading us to a wooden podium.

"Would you like me to take your hats? We can clean and refresh them as part of our service," Isabella offered.

"Thank you, but maybe next time," my mother replied, nervously adjusting her hat.

"Sure, that sounds lovely," my father said, removing his hat and helping himself to some tea and cookies.

My mother sighed and stared at him, and I couldn't help but giggle.

A sudden crash rang out as one of the trays clattered to the floor.

"It's the king! It's the king!" someone shouted.

My father's eyes widened. "I'm in trouble, aren't I?" He said, his voice tinged with worry.

My mother removed her hat.

"Yes, you are in big trouble," she said, shaking her head.

I couldn't stop giggling. My mother tapped my nose. "At least this one finds it amusing," she said with a smile.

"If that's the king and queen, then you must be the First Princess," one of the young women said, her voice slightly trembling.

I nodded. "Yes."

"I am so sorry, Your Majesties!" Isabella stammered, almost fainting. "We'll clean this up right away. Please, if you need anything, just ask!"

She bowed deeply.

We heard footsteps, and a slightly older woman, still just as adorable, entered the room.

"What is up with this huggable appearance?" I mumbled to myself. 

"Everyone, calm down. I'll handle this personally. Back to work, all of you," the older woman commanded. She approached my mother with a knowing smile.

"Little V, why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

My mother's eyes widened in surprise, and she leaped forward, wrapping her arms around the older woman.

"Aunty Ann! I didn't know you were still here!" They both laughed warmly.

"Who else would run the shop? I'm still training my daughters," Aunty Ann said, nodding toward the other women.

"Daughters?" I whispered to myself, noting the twelve or so women who all looked so similar. No wonder they all resembled each other.

"You want dresses for the little one? I'd be delighted to make them," Aunty Ann said, holding out her arms to me.

I looked at my mother with curiosity.

"She's been making dresses for our family for a long time," my mother explained. "For me, my mother, even your father's mother. You can trust her."

I went over and jumped into Aunty Ann's embrace. She felt cozy and smelled like freshly baked cookies.

"Oh, she's a big one," Aunty Ann said with a smile, poking my cheek. "How old are you, little princess?"

"I'm four," I replied.

Another tray hit the floor, and everyone froze.

Aunty Ann laughed and turned to my parents. "You two created one magnificent daughter."

She placed me on the podium to take measurements while my mother and father enjoyed their tea and cookies.

"There, all done," Aunty Ann said, completing the measurements.

"That was quick," I mumbled to myself.

"Now for the fun part," my mother said, rubbing her hands together with an excited, almost mischievous grin.

Oh no, I'm about to be a living doll, aren't I?

Dress after dress, shoe after shoe—they kept changing me into different outfits. It went on for so long that my father dozed off.

Finally, we finished, ending up with twenty-two dresses, ten pairs of shoes, a couple of backpacks, and even a few hats.

My mother nudged my father's foot to wake him up.

"How much?" he asked groggily.

Aunty Ann shook her head. "Come on, Little V. You know I never accept payment from you. You shopping here is enough to bring business."

My mother smiled and hugged her. "Thank you."

I hugged Aunty Ann too. "Thank you!"

"Oh, little princess, you're too sweet," she said, snapping her fingers to produce something that resemble a piece of candy.

"This is your mother's favorite. I used to give her one when she was your age."

"That's not fair," my mother said, crossing her arms. Aunty Ann snapped her fingers again. "Here, Little V."

My mother snatched the candy, twisting back and forth like a child. "Thank you, Aunty Ann!"

The dresses would take about a week to finish. "Would you like them delivered or picked up?"

"I'll come to pick them up. I have a feeling we'll need more," my mother said, glancing at me.

What? I didn't ask to grow this fast! I thought to myself.

Aunty Ann handed us a few dresses that's already altered fit me for now.

"Take these until the others are ready."

"Thank you so much, Aunty," my mother said, picking me up.

My father dropped a bag onto the counter, filled to the brim with gold coins.

"Thank you for preparing my daughter's dresses," he said with a smile.

Aunty Ann opened her mouth to object, but my father interrupted.

"I know you're not going to deny the king's offering," he said with a warm smile.

Aunty Ann closed her mouth, giving a soft chuckle.

"No, Your Majesty. Thank you for your generosity."

"Show-off," my mother teased, shaking her head.