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

POV: Sylvithra

The throne room at twilight felt like the inside of a storm cloud: dim, heavy, and charged with a tension that promised lightning strikes or at the very least a fierce argument over tea.

Sylvithra sat upon her own seat not the main throne, of course, but close enough to emphasize her authority, just distant enough to hint she had no desire for the actual responsibility. She eyed the velvet-draped table before her, laid out with an extravagant assortment of pastries, tea, and delicate sandwiches completely unnecessary and yet utterly vital for the survival of family discussions.

Across from her sat Verania, dressed in deep crimson robes embroidered with golden dragons, her golden eyes narrowed like a predator examining particularly uncooperative prey. Beside her was Veylen, as poised as ever, his expression unreadable and calm though Sylvithra had known him long enough to see the subtle twitch of his jaw that suggested stress. Their spouses flanked them: Grand Empress Saelira, who appeared utterly unbothered and possibly asleep, and Grand Warlord Eryndor, stern-faced but occupied rearranging tiny cucumber sandwiches into military formations.

Sylvithra suppressed a sigh. It was going to be one of those meetings.

"Can we start?" Verania asked impatiently. "Or are we waiting for something dramatic—like another magical explosion or a surprise dragon attack?"

"I rather hope so," Eryndor murmured, nudging a sandwich forward like a general ordering troops into battle. "It might speed things along."

Veylen gave him a dry glance. "Your boredom is showing, Father."

"My boredom has been showing for the last two hundred years," Eryndor countered, still focused on his sandwich army. "It's not a secret."

Sylvithra cleared her throat gently, silencing the room. "We are here to discuss Elyzara."

Verania sat up sharply. "Finally. Are we going to pretend none of us saw the vision in the mirror?"

Saelira stirred, eyes opening with exaggerated laziness. "Oh, we all saw it, dear. Quite the spectacle. The crown, the flames, the vampire so delightfully theatrical."

"It was disturbing," Veylen said firmly. "Our daughter's life might depend on what we do next."

Saelira waved a dismissive hand. "Everything's life-or-death when you're young. Remember when we conquered the western provinces? Now that was drama."

Sylvithra ignored her spouse's nostalgia. "We can't afford to dismiss this lightly. The vision indicates the prophecy is closer than we expected. Elyzara and the vampire Velka, was it? are clearly at the center."

Verania's eyes narrowed further. "Which is why Velka must be kept under surveillance."

"I already spoke with her," Sylvithra said mildly. "She seems genuine."

"Genuinely suspicious," Verania growled. "I don't trust vampires. They bite."

"So do you," Saelira noted cheerfully, helping herself to a pastry. "We raised you that way."

Verania glared at her mother. "She's a risk. A danger."

"Or perhaps an ally," Sylvithra said quietly. "Our granddaughter trusts her."

"Our granddaughter also once trusted a talking pineapple that tried to overthrow the pantry," Eryndor pointed out solemnly.

"Ananara was misunderstood," Saelira insisted. "And to be fair, he did have legitimate grievances about the lack of fruit representation in royal decisions."

Sylvithra resisted the urge to rub her temples. This family was impossible. "Returning to the topic"

Veylen held up his hand. "What matters most is Elyzara's safety. If she's involved in an ancient magical entanglement, we have to determine if this vampire is truly on her side."

"I could interrogate her," Verania offered, too eagerly. "A few spells, a little intimidation. She'll confess anything."

"Or," Sylvithra interrupted smoothly, "we could simply ask Elyzara."

Verania leaned back, expression darkening. "Elyzara hides things. She always has."

Sylvithra smiled thinly. "Wonder where she gets it from."

Verania's scowl deepened, but she remained silent, arms folded defensively.

"We should consider," Veylen interjected diplomatically, "the larger implications. There are whispers of unrest".

"Always whispers," Eryndor sighed dramatically. "Can't they shout once in a while, just for variety?"

Veylen ignored him. "If this prophecy unfolds as predicted, Elyzara could either be our greatest strength or our undoing."

Saelira smiled dreamily. "Prophecies always say that. They're terribly unimaginative. Why can't one say 'She'll bring excellent pastries' or 'Beware the talking pineapple'?"

Verania slammed her fist on the table, rattling the dishes. "Can we please be serious?"

"We can try," Eryndor agreed solemnly. "But I make no promises."

Sylvithra sighed deeply, feeling a headache forming behind her eyes. "Enough. Verania, your concerns are valid. But Elyzara has always shown good instincts."

Verania looked pained. "She's a child. A brilliant, powerful child, but still vulnerable."

"Yet we cannot cage her," Sylvithra replied gently. "Not without pushing her away."

"She already left without permission," Verania muttered bitterly. "Again."

"Because she senses our lack of trust," Sylvithra said pointedly. "If we don't give her room to breathe, we'll lose her."

Silence fell, broken only by Eryndor munching contemplatively on his sandwiches, now arranged into a flawless defensive formation.

Saelira finally spoke, voice uncharacteristically serious. "We raised our children to fight, to conquer, and yet we fear allowing Elyzara the freedom to choose her own path. Maybe it's time we listened."

Verania looked startled, then softened slightly. "I'm not sure I know how."

Sylvithra offered a faint, sympathetic smile. "Start small. Maybe… fewer threats to the vampire's life?"

Verania grumbled under her breath, something about "no promises," but seemed to relax fractionally.

Saelira patted her daughter's hand fondly. "Think of it as diplomacy, darling. Like invading, but with more tea."

Eryndor chuckled softly. "I always liked diplomacy. The pastries are better."

Veylen glanced around the table, his calm expression unwavering. "Then are we agreed? Elyzara will have space but we watch carefully?"

Verania hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. "Very carefully."

Sylvithra exhaled softly, relief mixing with a lingering anxiety. "Then it's decided."

Eryndor finally looked up from his sandwiches. "Excellent. Can we discuss something less dire now? Like who keeps rearranging my battle maps?"

Saelira smiled innocently. "Mystery for the ages, dear."

Sylvithra shook her head slowly, unable to resist a smile. "Meeting adjourned."

As the elders rose, chairs scraping, Sylvithra noticed Verania lingering uncertainly.

She stepped closer, laying a gentle hand on her daughter's arm. "We will survive this, Verania. As we always have."

Verania's eyes softened, almost vulnerable. "And if we lose her?"

"We won't," Sylvithra said firmly. "We raised her well."

They stood quietly a moment, the quiet warmth of understanding passing between them, before Verania straightened.

"Very well," she murmured. "But the moment that vampire crosses a line"

"You may threaten her to your heart's content," Sylvithra said dryly.

Verania gave a satisfied nod. "That'll have to do."

Sylvithra watched her go, shaking her head. Family meetings, she reflected, were more exhausting than war. And yet, she supposed, that was what made family so vital they drove you mad, but you loved them fiercely regardless.

Behind her, Eryndor began complaining loudly about sandwich sabotage. Saelira's laughter rang clear through the hall, like silver bells wrapped in mischief.

Sylvithra smiled faintly.

At least some things never changed.

As she left the throne room, the moon was rising beyond the palace windows, bathing the world in cool, pale light. She paused to gaze out across the darkened landscape, letting her mind wander back to Elyzara.

"You are stronger than you know," she whispered into the night. "And whatever comes we will face it together."

The moon gave no reply, of course but Sylvithra felt strangely reassured nonetheless.

Family might be messy and complicated, but she'd long since learned that messiness and complication were precisely where magic and hope often thrived best.

And perhaps, she thought as she moved through the shadowed halls, Elyzara was exactly the kind of chaos they all needed.

Even if she did occasionally set fire to furniture.

Especially then.

Sylvithra paused at the ornate double doors leading out onto the palace balcony, the evening breeze caressing her skin like a cool sigh of relief. Above, stars winked conspiratorially, perhaps amused by the tangled webs her family managed to weave around themselves.

"You're smiling," came Saelira's familiar voice, soft as velvet, and tinged with gentle amusement.

Sylvithra glanced back over her shoulder. Her wife stepped gracefully from the shadows, her silver hair shimmering faintly under moonlight, eyes sparkling with a playful glow.

"Am I?" Sylvithra replied mildly. "Must be exhaustion."

Saelira chuckled softly, slipping an arm gently around Sylvithra's waist. "Exhaustion, stubbornness, centuries of family drama. And here we still are."

Sylvithra leaned into her wife's familiar warmth, the tension in her shoulders finally easing. "And yet, it never gets easier."

Saelira pressed a gentle kiss against Sylvithra's temple, her voice warm and teasing. "No. But we get better at hiding the bodies."

Sylvithra laughed softly, shaking her head. "You're impossible."

"You love it," Saelira murmured, grinning mischievously. "Now come. Before Verania decides to interrogate another guest, or Eryndor declares war on the pastry chef."

Sylvithra sighed dramatically, turning to follow Saelira back inside. "A queen's work is never done."

"Fortunately," Saelira teased, tugging her close once more, "neither is mine."

Their laughter drifted softly through the palace halls, mingling gently with the moonlight.