I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 252: This is my daughter

The doors loomed ahead like the gates of war.

Carved from obsidian, etched with ancient runes, and flanked by twin braziers burning with white flame, they were magnificent, intimidating, and far too theatrical for Malvoria’s current state of mind.

Behind them, the ballroom throbbed with life. Laughter, clinking crystal, and excited murmurs spilled out like smoke through the enchanted cracks.

She could hear the murmur of nobles already half-drunk on imported nectar wine. The flutter of silks, the scratch of polished boots, and the rustle of egos being inflated.

The whole court was here—demon lords and ladies, human dignitaries, celestial diplomats. And possibly assassins pretending to be chefs.

Malvoria took a slow breath, adjusting the edge of her crimson cape.

She had faced battlefields drenched in blood. Led armies through ash storms. Argued with her mother in full council.

But this?

This was different.

"Do I look like I’m about to cry?" she muttered.

Elysia, standing beside her in her own regal finery—ivory and violet silks embroidered with constellations and flame—turned to her with a gentle smile.

"A little," she admitted.

"Damn it."

Elysia leaned in and kissed her cheek. "It suits you."

Between them, in a velvet-lined floating cradle enchanted to glide smoothly at their side, Kaelith blinked up at them with wide, curious eyes.

Her little plum-colored dress gleamed under the soft lantern light, and her tiny circlet of obsidian and amethyst rested atop her wisps of silver and red hair like it had always belonged there.

Malvoria dropped to one knee, adjusting the edge of Kaelith’s blanket, then ran her fingers gently along the baby’s cheek. Kaelith cooed and reached for her hand.

"I once thought I would rule alone," Malvoria said softly, mostly to herself. "Then you arrived, little tyrant. All fire and laughter."

Elysia knelt beside her, placing a hand on the cradle.

"We were supposed to be chaos," Elysia murmured. "But you... you’re something more."

Kaelith burbled in agreement.

Malvoria looked at her wife, her voice low and unsteady. "Are we ready for this?"

Elysia squeezed her hand. "No. But we’re doing it anyway."

The herald stepped forward, face solemn, voice ready.

Malvoria rose to her full height, shoulders back, face set. She adjusted her cape one final time.

Then she turned to the cradle.

"Kaelith Daemara," she whispered. "It’s time to meet your kingdom."

The doors parted with a hiss and flare of magic.

The ballroom exploded into silence.

Thousands of eyes turned toward them, toward the flame-lit archway where the Demon Queen, the Human Consort, and their impossible, radiant child stood in a triangle of shadow and light.

Malvoria stepped forward first, her crimson and black suit catching every flicker of enchanted lanterns overhead.

The runes etched into her cape glowed faintly with protective magic, and her horns gleamed like polished obsidian.

Elysia followed at her side, regal and calm, her presence serene but commanding, a vision of mortal elegance wrapped in divine serenity.

Between them, Kaelith’s cradle floated gently, a spell of comfort and starlight guiding her forward. The baby blinked at the crowd and promptly waved a tiny fist in vague disapproval.

The silence stretched.

And then, as if the room remembered how to breathe—applause.

It started softly, reverently. Then louder. Thunderous. Cheers, murmurs, even gasps.

Malvoria walked slowly, controlling her expression with careful discipline, but her heart hammered in her chest.

Her mind registered every face—lords, emissaries, enemies, allies. Even Serisa, the Celestian princess, standing tall at the far side of the ballroom, her expression unreadable. Beside her, Lara looked like she wanted to sink into the floor and die quietly.

Malvoria would deal with that later.

For now, this was Kaelith’s moment.

They reached the raised dais, where golden light pooled like liquid sun beneath their feet. An official stepped forward to announce titles, but Malvoria raised a hand. No need for ceremony.

She turned to face the crowd.

"This," she said, her voice steady and clear, amplified not by magic but by presence, "is my daughter. The heir to the Demon Throne. Kaelith Daemara."

Kaelith gurgled in response and, as if on cue, released a small puff of violet flame from her mouth. It curled upward into the air and exploded into the shape of a tiny phoenix.

The crowd lost it.

Cheers erupted. Glasses were raised. Magical fireworks burst across the ceiling in silver and gold.

Malvoria felt Elysia’s fingers brush hers behind her back.

"She upstaged us," Elysia whispered.

"She was always going to."

They descended from the dais to mingle as the musicians struck up a new melody—soft strings and distant drums, regal and reverent. The nobles began to move again, bowing, smiling, murmuring blessings and pleasantries as the royal family passed.

Kaelith was a magnet. Everywhere they went, people stared. Reached. Smiled.

"She has her mother’s eyes," one noble said.

"Which one?" Malvoria deadpanned.

The noble laughed nervously and stepped back.

Kaelith made a new noise—something like a giggle and a sneeze—and set a wine glass ablaze as it passed too close.

Elysia calmly cast a dampening spell. "She’s still learning restraint."

"She’ll grow out of it," Malvoria muttered.

"She’s two months old."

"I was practicing necromancy by three."

"That explains so much."

They made their way toward the upper balcony, where the closest family had gathered in a circle around a polished obsidian table topped with golden fruit, rare wines, and sweets shaped like flaming lilies.

Veylira stood there in a gown of midnight velvet, her hair twisted up into a crown of braids and black diamonds. Raveth stood beside her in understated elegance, lips twitching every time Malvoria looked her way. Thalor lounged nearby with a glass in hand and a proud-grandfather grin that never quite left his face.

Lara was there too—awkward, flinching at every glance from Serisa, who was watching from a distance like a stalking moon.

Malvoria took it all in.

Her family. Her chaos. Her kingdom.

And then Veylira raised her glass, cleared her throat, and said, "It’s gift time."

Malvoria groaned. Loudly. "Of course it is."

Elysia laughed.

Kaelith burped fire again.

Let the chaos begin.