Help! My Moms Are Overpowered Tyrants, and I’m Stuck as Their Baby!

(POV Aeris & Arion)

For a royal palace in a state of apparent crisis, things were suspiciously dull. At least, that was the collective opinion of Aeris and Arion, heirs to the Velmorian throne, four years old, and utterly convinced they were both criminally underappreciated and tragically bored.

Currently, Aeris lay sprawled dramatically across the marble floor of their playroom, gazing at the ornately painted ceiling. Golden vines twisted across the domed surface, entwined around portraits of ancient heroes wielding gleaming swords.

"Bored," she announced for the fifth time in as many minutes, arms stretched wide, red-gold curls spreading like spilled honey.

Arion, perched atop an enormous velvet cushion, swung his legs idly. He studied the wooden toy dragon in his hands with a resigned sigh.

"Maybe we should escape," he suggested, in the tone of one discussing the weather rather than a daring plot.

Aeris raised herself onto her elbows, emerald eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "Escape? To where?"

"Outside," Arion replied. "We could ride Smaug."

Aeris snorted, sitting up fully. "Smaug's been moody. Besides, he's scared of butterflies."

Arion nodded solemnly. "He is. I saw him run from one yesterday. It was embarrassing."

Their laughter filled the cavernous playroom, bouncing off polished marble and intricate tapestries depicting battles of legendary Velmorian heroes. The massive doors leading to the hallway opened abruptly, causing them to freeze mid-giggle. A young maid, bright-eyed and clearly nervous, peeked in.

"Your Highnesses? Are you behaving yourselves?"

"Absolutely," Arion said seriously, gripping the toy dragon tightly. "No trouble here."

"Very well." She hesitated, casting them a wary glance before leaving, the door clicking firmly behind her.

"She's new," Aeris whispered conspiratorially. "She doesn't know yet."

Arion smiled brightly. "Then we should help her learn."

Moments later, the twins were tiptoeing through the corridor, each clutching a cookie stolen earlier from the kitchens. They moved with exaggerated stealth, peeking around corners with theatrical flair, past golden statues of ancestors who, if they could have, would have rolled their stone eyes in amused despair.

As they neared the grand staircase, Arion abruptly pulled his sister behind a tall vase shaped suspiciously like a dragon with a particularly judgmental stare.

Aeris frowned. "What?"

"Look," Arion whispered dramatically, gesturing down the stairs toward the main hall.

Below, a group of grim-faced nobles were huddled, whispering urgently. Their severe voices floated upward, words like "prophecy," "mirror," and "Elyzara" drifting into the twins' curious ears.

Aeris gasped dramatically. "They said Ely's name!"

"Adults always say Ely's name," Arion noted philosophically. "She's famous."

"But why are they angry this time?" Aeris demanded, biting into her cookie. "They're always angry when they talk about her."

"Maybe she melted something again," Arion mused. "Or set someone's beard on fire."

"Good," Aeris declared proudly. "She said boring people deserve fire."

Arion nodded earnestly. "That's why she's my favorite sister."

"She's your only sister," Aeris pointed out.

"Exactly," he agreed. "Which makes her extra special."

Their philosophical discussion was interrupted by the sudden appearance of their grandmother, Sylvithra. Tall, regal, and terrifyingly elegant, she approached the nobles with measured steps, velvet robes flowing dramatically behind her.

The twins shrank back instinctively, hiding even further behind the vase.

"She looks serious," Aeris whispered, wide-eyed.

"She always looks serious," Arion muttered. "Maybe she ate something sour."

Sylvithra's voice, smooth yet sharp as tempered steel, cut through the murmurs below. "Gentlemen. We have matters to discuss. Privately."

The nobles hastily bowed and followed her down the corridor, visibly nervous. The twins exchanged a delighted glance, curiosity thoroughly piqued.

"We have to follow them," Aeris whispered fiercely.

"Secret mission!" Arion agreed, pumping a fist quietly in the air.

They trailed behind, tiny feet padding soundlessly on thick velvet carpets, hearts hammering with excitement. Sylvithra entered a small meeting chamber, shutting the door firmly behind her. They pressed their ears against it, straining to listen.

The conversation inside was muffled words too big and complicated for four-year-old ears. Disappointed, they stepped back, deflating slightly.

"Adults talk boring," Aeris complained.

"Very boring," Arion agreed. "Why don't they talk about dragons or snacks?"

A sudden snuffling noise behind them made them jump. Spinning around, they found themselves face-to-snout with Smaug, Elyzara's dragon, reduced temporarily to cat-size but somehow radiating enough disdain for a creature twice his current stature.

Aeris placed her hands on her hips, scowling impressively for her small size. "Smaug, you're supposed to be in Ely's room."

Smaug tilted his head, eyes narrowing in an unmistakably superior glare.

"I think he's mad because Ely left without him," Arion offered.

The dragon made a dismissive snort, puffing smoke.

"See?" Arion said triumphantly. "Told you."

Smaug rolled his eyes theatrically and curled his tail around himself, clearly planning to sulk.

"Come on, Smaug," Aeris said coaxingly, offering him half of her cookie. "We're going to spy. You like spying."

Smaug hesitated, sniffed disdainfully at the cookie, then carefully took it from her hand. He chewed thoughtfully, as if evaluating their offer.

Arion leaned closer. "We can sneak to the kitchens after. They have pastries."

Smaug perked up instantly, tail flicking eagerly. Decision made, he fell in step behind the twins, his tiny claws clicking softly against the polished marble.

"This way," Aeris whispered dramatically, leading them back down the corridor toward the kitchens.

They entered stealthily, avoiding cooks and servants bustling about, and ducked beneath an enormous table piled high with trays of tarts and sweets. Smaug, being small enough, perched atop a stack of cream-filled pastries, munching happily and unapologetically scattering crumbs.

Arion reached eagerly for a pastry, grinning as cream smeared across his cheeks. Aeris took two, double-fisting the sweets triumphantly.

"See?" she whispered, mouth full. "Way more fun than boring grown-up stuff."

Arion nodded enthusiastically. "Being spies is great."

Their victorious snack raid was abruptly interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. They froze, wide-eyed, pastries halfway to their mouths. A familiar voice echoed through the kitchen, stern and unmistakably Verania's.

"…still haven't heard from Elyzara since she left Arcanum?"

The cook replied nervously, "No, Majesty. Not a word."

The twins exchanged wide-eyed glances beneath the table. Smaug froze mid-chew, pastry cream dripping guiltily down his scaled chin.

Verania sighed deeply. "Let me know immediately if you hear anything. Elyzara has a talent for trouble."

As their mother left, Aeris nudged her brother urgently. "Ely's missing again?"

Arion frowned, worried. "She's probably just adventuring. Like always."

"But Mother sounds angry," Aeris whispered anxiously.

"Mother is always angry," Arion replied sagely. "It's like her hobby."

Aeris giggled nervously, reassured slightly. Smaug finished licking cream off his snout, then gave them a pointed look.

"Maybe we should find out," Aeris suggested, looking determined. "We're spies now, remember? It's our duty."

Arion nodded solemnly, brushing pastry flakes from his shirt. "We'll save her from Mother's anger."

The twins scrambled from beneath the table, Smaug reluctantly abandoning his pastry throne to follow. They raced back upstairs toward their rooms, hearts pounding with the excitement of their newfound mission.

Their serious, adult-sized problems felt slightly less terrifying with a belly full of pastries and a dragon albeit a tiny, temperamental one at their side.

Back in their playroom, Aeris produced a roll of parchment and crayons, scribbling furiously.

"What are you doing?" Arion asked curiously.

"Making a rescue plan," she replied firmly. "Ely would do it for us."

"True," Arion agreed, taking another bite from the pastry he'd managed to smuggle upstairs. "And she'd bring snacks."

Aeris nodded approvingly. "Every good rescue plan needs snacks."

They huddled together, crayons in hand, plotting an elaborate rescue operation filled with dragons, pastries, and absolutely no grown-ups because grown-ups, as they had both decided, had no talent for real adventures.

By the time evening fell and their nanny came searching for them, they had already drawn several detailed maps, four dragons (each with names and personality traits), and a suspiciously large number of pastries labeled "essential provisions."

"We're ready," Aeris said proudly.

"For anything," Arion agreed, smiling.

"Except bedtime," came their nanny's voice from the doorway.

Aeris scowled fiercely. "But we're spies!"

"Yes, very dangerous spies," their nanny said patiently. "Now come along."

As they reluctantly climbed into bed, Arion leaned toward Aeris. "Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow," she promised firmly. "We rescue Ely."

And as they lay in their oversized velvet beds, canopied in translucent curtains embroidered with miniature fire-breathing dragons, Aeris stared at the ceiling again only this time, her eyes were filled with purpose rather than boredom.

"I think I should be the commander," she whispered across the room.

Arion, already wrapped burrito-like in his blankets, stuck his head out. "Why?"

"Because I'm better at drawing battle plans," she said simply, holding up her crayon-scribbled parchment like a royal decree. "You put the dragon in the dessert tent."

"Because Smaug likes tarts," Arion defended, affronted. "He fights better when he's full."

Aeris rolled her eyes dramatically. "That's not how war works."

"Then war is stupid," Arion muttered, flopping back onto his pillow.

There was a pause.

"…You think Elyzara's really in danger?" Aeris asked softly, the doubt creeping in now that the sugar rush was fading.

Arion was quiet for a moment, then said, "She's Ely. She always wins. But if she needs us… we'll be ready."

Aeris nodded, clutching her pillow. "Even if we have to sneak out the window."

"Or bribe the guards," Arion added helpfully. "With cake."

They both giggled at that, and Smaug now curled between their beds like a grumpy scaled dog huffed once and closed his eyes.

Plans could wait until morning.

For now, even the bravest spies needed sleep.