I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 249: Side - : a day with Kaelith ( Lara)

Lara had faced many things in her life—rebellious demons, smug Celestians, a drunken wyvern on the Southern Border—but nothing, nothing, prepared her for the day she agreed to watch Kaelith on her own.

It had started innocently enough.

Elysia had kissed Kaelith’s forehead, handed over the baby with a bag that had more compartments than a battle-satchel, and said, "We’ll be gone just for the morning. You’ll be fine. She likes you."

Lara had blinked, half-asleep and clutching a sweetroll. "What do you mean we?"

Then Malvoria had appeared behind Elysia, fully armored, looking too smug for a woman about to attend a very dull diplomatic meeting about grain distribution and ceremonial trade routes.

She kissed Kaelith too, and said nothing—just smirked at Lara like she was passing her a ticking time bomb.

Which, in hindsight, wasn’t far from the truth.

Now, several hours later, Lara sat on the floor of her room, shirt stained with a mix of milk and mystery, a baby on her lap and a haunted look in her eyes.

Kaelith cooed.

"Don’t look at me like that," Lara muttered. "You know what you did."

Kaelith blinked. Her violet eyes were wide, shiny, impossibly round. She looked like a baby cherub—if cherubs occasionally sneezed fire and tried to chew through enchanted blankets.

The room around them was a disaster zone. Toys (some sentient) were strewn about. A bottle had exploded.

The enchanted mobile above Kaelith’s crib had gone rogue and was currently tangled in the curtains, singing off-key lullabies in four different languages.

Lara hadn’t even intended to babysit alone. She’d tried to call for help.

But the maids had vanished the moment she took full possession of Kaelith. Vanished like smoke, giggling as they claimed, "You’ll be fine, Lady Lara. Just don’t let her near anything flammable!"

Which was, as it turned out, everything.

Kaelith squealed, her chubby hands batting at the air.

Lara sighed and picked her up under the arms, holding her up like she was inspecting her. "You know what, you’re lucky you’re cute."

Kaelith gurgled. Then sneezed.

A small flame burst from her mouth and set the edge of Lara’s curtain on fire.

"Oh come on!"

Lara dived for the water jug and doused the flames with a splash. The curtain sizzled and drooped in surrender.

"Okay. That’s fine. Everything’s fine." She turned to Kaelith, who had managed to grab a lock of Lara’s hair and was now chewing it thoughtfully.

"You’re lucky you have powerful mothers. If you weren’t royal, you’d be in time-out already."

Kaelith made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a tiny evil laugh.

Lara plopped onto a pillow and cradled the baby properly this time. "Alright. Let’s try this again. You’ve been fed. You’ve bathed. You’ve set two things on fire. You’ve screamed at the mirror, and you’ve tried to bite a moving rune. That’s... progress."

She adjusted Kaelith’s blanket, wrapping her in a soft lavender swaddle with embroidered stars—flame-resistant, of course. Elysia had thoughtfully labeled all the baby supplies. "This one’s for nap time," "This one’s enchanted to soothe," "This one’s if she explodes"—that last one unnerved Lara.

But now, the chaos seemed to be waning.

For the moment.

Kaelith snuggled into her chest, sighing softly.

"Okay," Lara whispered, rocking gently. "This... I can handle."

A knock at the door interrupted the peace.

Lara tensed. "If it’s another enchanted delivery box, I swear—"

It opened, and a small maid peeked inside. "Lady Lara? We brought the... um... the entertainment item you requested?"

Lara blinked. "What?"

The maid stepped in, followed by two castle guards who were carrying what appeared to be a magically levitating illusion projector shaped like a mini stage.

"We were told Kaelith likes visual stimulation," the maid said apologetically. "So this is a—um—a moving storybook. Just press this and—"

She hit a rune, and suddenly a glowing, animated scene sprang to life in the air: a tiny dragon chasing a butterfly over a rainbow-colored field.

Kaelith’s eyes widened in wonder.

She squealed, slapped her hands on Lara’s chest, and flapped her arms like she wanted to fly.

Lara looked down at her. "Are you actually entertained?"

Kaelith looked back up, nodded—or possibly twitched—and then farted.

Loudly.

"Great. I’m raising a queen who thinks fire and farts are equally powerful."

She laid Kaelith on the plush rug, letting her kick happily as the illusion story played. Lara laid next to her, propped on one elbow, just watching.

There was something strangely soothing about it.

The way Kaelith responded to colors, the music, the rhythm. Her tiny fists swatted at butterflies made of light. Her legs kicked with pure glee.

And for a moment, Lara forgot the ruined curtain, the scorched pillows, the fact that one of her boots still had milk in it.

For a moment, it was just this.

The two of them.

Watching the world shimmer and spin.

"You know," she said aloud, voice softer now, "I used to think kids were just tiny noise goblins. Cry, eat, spit, repeat."

Kaelith burbled.

"But you? You’re kind of alright. Scary. Definitely flammable. But alright."

She reached out and gently brushed a silver curl from Kaelith’s forehead.

The baby blinked up at her.

"Do you even understand any of this?"

Kaelith didn’t answer, but she reached up and grabbed Lara’s finger with both hands and held it tight.

Tighter than Lara expected.

A warm feeling—odd, unfamiliar—bloomed in her chest.

Affection, maybe. Or something like awe.

She didn’t know how to name it.

But she knew what it meant.

When the illusion ended and Kaelith yawned, Lara carried her gently to the rocking chair, settling her with practiced ease she didn’t know she had.

As Kaelith dozed off, her little face nestled against Lara’s shoulder, Lara leaned back with a content sigh.

"Alright," she murmured to the empty room. "It’s not so bad. A child."

The room was quiet now.

Truly quiet.

The kind that only existed when a baby had finally—miraculously—fallen asleep and every living being within a mile radius knew not to make a sound.

Lara sat in the rocking chair with Kaelith nestled against her chest, the little one’s warm breath feathering against her collarbone, her tiny fingers still wrapped around the edge of Lara’s tunic.

Her weight was light, yet grounding, like being trusted with a secret the world hadn’t earned yet.

The illusion projector had long since dimmed, casting only a faint glow against the walls. The scattered chaos of toys and singed blankets lay forgotten for now.

Even the cursed mobile had stopped humming, perhaps silenced by the weight of the moment—or the sheer exhaustion of witnessing Lara babysit.

She looked down at Kaelith again. The little demon-hybrid queen of tomorrow was snoring faintly, a puff of heat rising with each exhale.

Lara couldn’t help the small, reluctant smile pulling at her lips.

It was a weird feeling, one she hadn’t expected. She hadn’t always been good with kids—too brash, too sarcastic, too used to battlefield chaos over baby coos. And yet, somehow, this tiny bundle of fire and drool had claimed a space in her heart like it had always been there.

"Not bad at all," she whispered, brushing her knuckles against Kaelith’s cheek. "You’re lucky you’re cute. And terrifying."

She leaned her head back against the chair and closed her eyes, just for a moment.

A knock at the door made her jolt upright.

Kaelith grumbled in protest, her brows furrowing in sleep, but didn’t wake.

Lara moved like an assassin—silently, precisely. She padded barefoot to the door and opened it just a sliver.

One of the royal messengers stood there, wide-eyed and looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

He held out a letter, sealed in moonstone wax, marked with the crest of the Celestial Courts.

Lara’s stomach dropped.

"Who is it from?" she whispered.

"The Crown Court," he replied. "Urgent."

Of course it was.

She took the envelope and closed the door with one last glare that promised consequences if the messenger so much as breathed too loud.

Back inside, Kaelith let out a sleepy sigh and rolled over in her floating cradle, still blissfully unaware of the chaos looming just a scroll away.

Lara sat back down, broke the seal, and unfolded the parchment with a growing sense of dread.

Her eyes scanned the first line, then the second.

Then she read it aloud.

"...The princess is pregnant."

She stared at the letter.

Silence.

Then she stood up, walked calmly to the window, and muttered:

"Oh fuck."

Lara reread the letter, as if the words might change.

The princess is pregnant.

No name. No explanation. Just elegant, merciless handwriting and a single line that detonated like a bomb in her chest.

"Serisa," she whispered, rubbing her temples. "Please don’t let it be you."

Kaelith, still asleep, let out a soft snore and rolled over, utterly unconcerned.

Lara paced once, twice, then folded the letter with slow precision.

"I need wine. And possibly a lawyer."

She looked at Kaelith, who blinked awake just in time to sneeze sparks.

Lara sighed. "You. Stay flammable. I’ll handle the diplomatic scandal."