I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 352: Co-parents

The late afternoon sun spilled gold and blue across the Celestian castle’s sitting room, painting the arched windows and silk curtains with honeyed light.

Elysia stretched her legs on the velvet settee, feeling a rare moment of ease after the diplomatic, sugar-filled chaos of lunch.

Kaelith had been ushered off by Veylira for a "grandmother’s tour" of the palace kitchens—a thinly veiled excuse to sneak her a second dessert and give the adults a chance to breathe.

Aliyah was napping on a pillow in the center of a sunbeam, tiny fists pressed under her chin, her dark curls springing against the blanket.

Across from Elysia, Sarisa perched on the edge of a delicate armchair, looking both regal and out-of-place, her gaze flickering between the sleeping baby and the swirling pattern of light on the floor.

Malvoria, stretched beside Elysia, was absently braiding and unbraiding a lock of Elysia’s hair, her boots propped on the table with a disregard for Celestian etiquette.

Lara sprawled in the other armchair, arms crossed, boots muddy from some recent adventure, and a stubborn, half-defensive scowl fixed on her face.

For a while, the room was quiet except for the soft whirr of the cooling charm and Aliyah’s baby-sighs. Then Sarisa, after glancing at Lara and then quickly away, broke the silence.

"I suppose this is the first time we’ve all been alone together since..." She trailed off, gesturing vaguely at Aliyah. "Since everything changed."

Lara let out a snort, eyes sliding sideways to Sarisa. "You mean since I singlehandedly improved Celestian bloodlines and ruined my chances of ever being invited to a tea party again?"

Sarisa shot her a withering look, but there was a quirk at the corner of her mouth.

"Please. The tea parties were never for you. You’d turn the pastries to charcoal and spill something scandalous about your sister within the first five minutes."

Malvoria grinned. "That’s accurate."

Lara shrugged, unrepentant. "Tea parties are for cowards. Give me a tavern brawl any day."

Elysia coughed to hide her laugh, but she saw Sarisa’s lips twitch.

"So," Elysia said, as gently as possible, "how are you feeling? About... well. All of this?" She gestured to the room, to Aliyah, to the unspoken, looming topic of co-parenting and royal futures.

There was an awkward pause. Even Malvoria’s fingers stilled in Elysia’s hair, as if bracing for a storm.

Sarisa’s eyes dropped to Aliyah, her expression softening. "Some days I feel like I’m doing fine. Other days I’m convinced I’ll ruin her before she’s old enough to walk."

She looked at Lara, a strange honesty in her gaze. "But I’m glad you’re here. I couldn’t do it alone. Even if you do let her chew on your sword hilts."

Lara looked faintly offended, then grinned. "She’s got to learn sometime. Anyway, she prefers my horns."

Elysia shook her head fondly. "You two really are... not a couple."

Malvoria added, "But good parents. Aliyah’s lucky."

A more awkward silence stretched, filled with the unspoken things that always seemed to settle between Sarisa and Lara.

It was Malvoria who finally, mercifully, broke it. "So, you’re still not interested in marrying for the good of the kingdoms, then?" Her tone was half-teasing, half-serious.

Lara snorted. "Not a chance. Last thing Aliyah needs is her parents hating each other out of obligation. Anyway, you’ve seen the Celestian court. If I married Sarisa, they’d probably set me on fire before the end of the ceremony. And Sarisa would help them."

Sarisa’s eyes sparkled. "I would. But I’d make sure you had an excellent dress for the funeral pyre."

That made Elysia laugh outright. "You know, for a long time, people assumed you two would end up together just for the politics of it all."

Sarisa nodded, tracing patterns on Aliyah’s blanket. "I know. I used to think so, too. But—" She looked up, meeting Lara’s gaze.

"We’re not in love. We’re... partners. Friends, maybe. We both want Aliyah to have everything we didn’t. Safety. Choices. Maybe even a little chaos." Her lips quirked.

"Especially with Lara as her example."

Lara puffed up, pleased, then caught herself. "You’re not so bad yourself, Sarisa. For a Celestian, I mean."

A brief, companionable silence fell. Elysia watched the two of them and felt a pang of something she couldn’t quite name—hope, maybe, or relief.

It was never simple, but it was honest, and that was more than most royal children got.

Malvoria nudged Elysia. "Can you imagine Aliyah and Kaelith growing up together in two palaces? The stories they’ll tell. The trouble they’ll find."

"Oh, gods." Elysia laughed, covering her eyes. "Between the two of them, we might have to reinforce the magic circle every month."

Sarisa smiled, soft and tired. "I worry about the day they start plotting together."

Lara smirked. "That’s when you’ll want to move to another continent."

They all laughed, the tension finally breaking. Even Aliyah, sensing the change in the air, made a little gurgling sound and wiggled her fists, as if to punctuate the moment.

The conversation drifted to lighter topics—favorite childhood foods, the worst lessons from their own parents, the best ways to distract a teething baby.

Malvoria, with a completely straight face, described Kaelith’s latest tactic: hiding in the laundry to avoid bedtime, then pretending to be a "ghost general" until someone gave her an extra dessert.

Lara countered with Aliyah’s newfound skill: screaming every time someone tries to put her in a dress, only calming down when given a tiny set of black leather boots—"She’s already taking after me," Lara said, feigning pride.

They talked about holidays and plans for the next year, about the possibility of opening the portal more often, of swapping holidays so the children would always have cousins and chaos.

Elysia listened, the knot in her chest loosening with every joke, every awkward admission.

After a while, the conversation circled back to the future. Sarisa, after a long, thoughtful pause, said quietly.

"Sometimes I think the only reason people want us to marry is because it’s easier to explain to the court. They don’t want to accept that we’re raising a child together for her sake, not for politics."

Lara grunted, surprisingly gentle. "Let them be confused. Aliyah’s got more family than any royal brat in history. She’ll be fine."

Malvoria stretched, her arm settling comfortably around Elysia’s shoulders. "We’ll make sure of it."

Elysia reached over to brush a lock of hair from Aliyah’s forehead, feeling the warmth of the sunbeam and the quiet support of those around her. "You already are. Both of you."

It wasn’t perfect. It would never be perfect. But it was enough.

As the afternoon sun dipped, the shadows in the sitting room grew longer, softer. Aliyah stirred, blinking sleepily, and Lara immediately picked her up, bouncing her gently until she settled again.

Sarisa watched them both, her expression complicated but content.

Elysia let herself sink into the comfort of the room—the slanting sun, the gentle weight of Malvoria’s arm across her shoulders, the sound of Lara’s voice as she murmured some nonsense to Aliyah.

There were moments when Elysia still felt like an imposter in these royal halls, a child playing at peace, but here and now, with her friends and family sprawled in awkward, honest company, she felt utterly, defiantly at home.

Aliyah, tiny fists grabbing for a lock of Lara’s hair, gave a half-squeal, half-laugh. Lara yelped, wincing as those baby fingers found their target.

"She’s got a grip like a demon general already," Lara complained, half proud, half pained.

Sarisa leaned over, prying Aliyah’s hand loose with practiced gentleness. "That’s what you get for training her to be a little rebel," she said, voice light. "She’s going to rule the nursery and the battlefield."

Malvoria snorted. "You two are going to have your hands full. You know that, right?"

Elysia watched them, the way they moved—awkward, uncertain, but so determined. "She’ll have all of us," she said softly. "And Kaelith too. They’ll never have to face anything alone."

For a moment, everyone fell quiet. The afternoon had turned golden, the air rich with warmth and the distant sound of bells from the western towers.

Elysia wished she could bottle the feeling—of safety, of a family built not out of duty or politics, but of choice, stubborn love, and the willingness to try.

"So, what’s the plan?" Lara broke the silence, cradling Aliyah against her chest. "Are you two actually planning on staying the night, or will you run back to the demon castle before the Celestian Queen finds another reason to interrogate you?"

Malvoria rolled her eyes. "We’ll stay tonight. Kaelith is still high from her birthday and I’m not facing that journey until she sleeps."

Sarisa smiled, a little shyly. "I’m glad you’re here. Both of you. Even if it is just for one night."

Elysia nudged Malvoria, who grinned. "It’s not so bad," Elysia said. "There’s good company. A chaos-loving baby. A queen with an impressive death glare."

Malvoria smirked. "And no escape tunnels."

Lara snorted. "You’d think with all this magic and these towers, someone would have designed a way out for troublemakers like us."

Elysia shook her head, her eyes lingering on the little bundle in Lara’s arms. "Who needs an escape when you have family like this?"

Aliyah gave a tiny yawn, her eyelids fluttering. Lara rocked her gently, softer than Elysia would have expected from her brash sister-in-law. Sarisa watched, her face full of quiet gratitude.

Malvoria leaned closer, brushing her lips to Elysia’s temple. "Tomorrow will be loud again," she whispered. "Let’s enjoy the peace while it lasts."

Elysia smiled, letting her head rest against Malvoria’s shoulder, the world shrinking to this sunlit room, these flawed and wonderful people, and the fierce, complicated love they all shared.