I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 301: What do do for Kaelith birthday?

A few days had passed since the Celestial Queen’s tempestuous visit, and the castle had settled into that odd, precarious quiet that always followed a family storm.

Sunlight poured in through Malvoria’s office windows, illuminating the maps, letters, and velvet boxes that cluttered her desk.

It was the sort of mess that only came from serious thinking—piled scrolls and color-coded notes and lists of noble houses she was obliged to invite (but dearly wished she could forget).

Malvoria was not alone. This was a family affair, after all.

Elysia sat in a low chair by the hearth, barefoot, one leg slung lazily over the arm, reading over the latest guest list with a look of deep skepticism.

"Do we really have to invite Lord Varnath? Didn’t he try to sell you a cursed ring at last year’s solstice ball?"

Malvoria pinched the bridge of her nose. "He claims it was a ’misunderstanding’. His wife sent a cake to apologize. It was... dry."

"And dangerous, if I remember right," Elysia teased, eyes twinkling. "Kaelith licked the icing and fell asleep in the middle of the banquet. You can’t convince me that wasn’t intentional."

Malvoria couldn’t help but smile. "Maybe she was just bored. It was a dull party."

"Everything’s dull to her except mud and mayhem."

As if summoned by the sound of her name, Kaelith shot out from beneath the wide desk, clutching what looked suspiciously like a feather quill in one hand and a length of enchanted ribbon in the other.

Her silver hair stuck up in wild little tufts, and her tunic was already covered in faint smudges of blue ink.

"Mama!" she announced, as though proclaiming her conquest to the world.

Elysia laughed. "What have you got there?"

"Write!" Kaelith said triumphantly, waving the feather.

Malvoria eyed the inkwell on the desk now suspiciously lighter and the set of empty parchment rolls scattered across the rug.

She reached down, taking the quill gently from Kaelith’s fingers. "Sweetheart, I need these to make important lists. Like, which flavor of cake to order for your birthday."

Kaelith’s face lit up at the word cake. "Cake?"

Elysia feigned horror. "Don’t get her started. She’s been demanding cake every day since you mentioned the word at breakfast."

Malvoria smiled, glancing at her daughter with a conspiratorial grin. "We’ll have cake. But first we have to decide what kind. This is very important royal business."

Kaelith, undeterred, clambered up into Malvoria’s lap and grabbed for the nearest roll of parchment, determined to participate in the "business" herself.

She stared at the page with a look of such seriousness that Malvoria nearly lost her composure.

Elysia leaned back in her chair, watching them both with a look of indulgent fondness. "You know, I never imagined we’d be planning a royal birthday banquet with a two-foot-tall warlord demanding pastries and scribbling on our paperwork."

Malvoria nuzzled the top of Kaelith’s head. "Neither did I. But I wouldn’t change a thing."

Kaelith, clearly believing the conversation had lagged, added her own suggestion: "Pink cake!"

Malvoria made a note. "Pink. Anything else?"

Kaelith stuck her tongue out in thought. "Stars!"

Elysia grinned. "A star-shaped pink cake. She’s setting the standards early."

Malvoria looked at Elysia, playful exasperation in her voice. "If we follow every one of her ideas, the banquet will end in a food fight."

Elysia shrugged, "Better than the usual poisonings and attempted coups."

Malvoria set Kaelith on the desk and let her rummage through a safe stack of colored parchment scraps.

Her tiny hands tore and rearranged them with the focus of a general directing a siege. Occasionally she’d glance up, as if checking her parents’ progress.

Malvoria leaned back, letting her hand find Elysia’s over the space between them. Their fingers intertwined, a quiet anchor amid the chaos.

"We could make it small," Malvoria said quietly. "Just family, a few trusted friends. No ambassadors or court vultures."

Elysia squeezed her hand. "She’s only a year old. She won’t remember the fanfare. But she’ll remember the feeling. That she’s safe. That she’s loved."

Malvoria felt the familiar tightness in her chest—the urge to protect, to fortify, to make the world smaller and softer for this child, for all of them.

"We could hold it in the east gardens," Elysia continued, her voice light and dreamy.

"Decorate the orchard with lanterns. Let her run wild. No stiff chairs, no thrones, no titles. Just laughter."

Malvoria let herself picture it: Kaelith tearing barefoot through grass, Aliyah in Sarisa’s arms, Lara scowling at delicate pastries, Veylira instructing the kitchen on the proper way to bake chaos into a pie. The vision made her smile.

"And what of the Celestial Queen?" Malvoria asked, raising an eyebrow. "She’s likely to arrive with half the high court in tow."

Elysia made a face. "She can stand in the corner and scowl. Or she can join in. Her choice."

Kaelith looked up, sensing her parents were getting too serious. She shoved a scrap of pink parchment in Malvoria’s face. "Crown!"

Malvoria blinked. "You want a crown for your cake?"

"Yah!"

Elysia burst out laughing. "Of course she does. We’re doomed."

Kaelith began stacking the parchment pieces on her head, fashioning a sort of lopsided crown for herself. She looked pleased as a cat with cream.

"She’ll want to wear that to the banquet," Malvoria said, voice warm with pride.

"She can wear whatever she wants," Elysia replied. "It’s her day."

Malvoria watched as Kaelith wriggled off the desk, trailing ribbons and confetti, giggling at her own reflection in a polished shield propped against the wall.

It was chaos—but it was their chaos. The kind that turned cold stone into home, and old fears into laughter.

Elysia stood and moved to Malvoria’s side, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "You’re overthinking again."

"I am not," Malvoria protested.

"You are," Elysia insisted. "You’re wondering if the food will be perfect, if the guests will behave, if the baby will decide to throw her crown into the punch bowl and stage a coup."

Malvoria couldn’t help but laugh, the sound low and real. "Guilty."

"None of it will be perfect," Elysia said, dropping her voice to a whisper. "But it will be ours. That’s enough."

Malvoria pulled her close, resting her forehead against Elysia’s. "When did you become so wise?"

"I live with you," Elysia teased. "I’ve learned to anticipate disaster."

There was a beat of comfortable silence, punctuated only by Kaelith’s humming as she tried to balance her paper crown on the head of a stuffed dragon.

Malvoria closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in the scent of ink, parchment, and sunlight.

When she opened them again, Elysia was watching her—not with the hunger of lovers in stolen moments, but with the steady devotion of someone who’d chosen her, over and over.

"What do you want, Mal?" Elysia asked, voice gentle.

Malvoria looked at Kaelith, at the morning sun warming the office, at Elysia’s hand resting on hers.

"I want this," she said simply. "Just this. Family. Laughter. Cake and chaos and all of it."

Elysia smiled, then leaned in to press a kiss to her cheek. "Then that’s what we’ll have."

Kaelith, sensing a lull in attention, clambered into Malvoria’s lap again and placed her paper crown now thoroughly wrinkled onto Malvoria’s head. "Queen Mama!" she declared.

Elysia covered her mouth, laughter bubbling up like spring water. Malvoria couldn’t help but drink in the sight of her eyes crinkling at the corners, cheeks flushed from amusement, hair glowing gold in the sunlight.

On a sudden, mischievous impulse, Malvoria leaned in, intending to press a soft, lingering kiss to Elysia’s lips.

But before she could get close, a small but determined force wedged itself between them.

Kaelith, with the righteous fury only a toddler could muster, threw both arms wide and declared, "No, Mama! No kiss!" She wriggled herself squarely onto Elysia’s lap, shooting Malvoria a scowl worthy of an old warlord.

Malvoria paused, raising a brow. "Excuse me? I wasn’t aware there were rules against kissing my wife."

"Mine!" Kaelith insisted, clutching Elysia’s arm and baring her tiny fangs in warning. "No kiss, Mama. My mama!"

Elysia tried to stifle her snort of laughter, only to lose the battle and dissolve into giggles, caught between amusement and mild embarrassment. "Kaelith, you can share, you know—there’s enough of me for both."

Kaelith looked doubtful, sticking her tongue out at Malvoria and draping herself over Elysia like a velvet barricade.

Malvoria made a show of pouting, then narrowed her eyes playfully. "This means war, little one."

She lunged forward, fingers dancing along Kaelith’s sides, mercilessly tickling her until she squealed and dissolved into giggles, her tiny crown tumbling askew.

"Not fair, Mama! No tickles!" Kaelith howled, twisting with laughter and trying to wriggle away.

But Malvoria just scooped her up, raining kisses on her cheeks until both mother and daughter were breathless.

At last, Malvoria set Kaelith down gently and leaned back, still smiling. She caught Elysia’s gaze, warmth and longing in her eyes, and said softly, "Maybe we should just go on a date before her birthday—just you and me, Elysia."