Help! My Moms Are Overpowered Tyrants, and I’m Stuck as Their Baby! - Chapter 46

Chapter 46: An Unexpected Gift
The carriage ride back to the palace is mercifully quieter than the trip into the city. My family, for once, seems satisfied with their handiwork, and I spend the journey trying to ignore the mountain of gifts piled around me. Jewelry, enchanted trinkets, rare artifacts—I could build an empire out of today’s offerings alone. Not that I want to.

[You survived. Barely.]

It’s not over yet, I remind the system grimly. There’s still time for something worse.

[True. Your family does love a grand finale.]

The thought alone makes me groan.

As we pass through the palace gates, the familiar sight of towering spires and marble archways greets me. The moment the carriage halts, servants rush forward to unload the obscene number of gifts. I step out, my cape trailing behind me like a shadow, and head straight for my chambers without waiting for my family.

“Elyzara, dear,” Sylvithra calls after me, her voice deceptively soft. “We’ll see you shortly.”

That’s never a good sign.

I quicken my pace.

By the time I reach my room, I’m half-expecting another surprise. Instead, I find Mara and Elira waiting, both standing suspiciously still, their expressions carefully neutral.

I narrow my eyes. “What are you two plotting?”

Mara grins. “Us? Plotting? Never.”

Elira, more composed, offers a small smile. “We have something for you, Your Highness.”

I blink. “You… what?”

Mara bounces slightly on her heels, clearly excited. “A gift.”

I stare at them. Of all the chaos today, this is what surprises me most. “You got me a gift?”

Elira nods. “Of course.”

Mara gestures dramatically. “Ta-da!”

From behind her back, she produces a small, neatly wrapped box. It’s nothing extravagant—simple paper, tied with a silk ribbon—but something about it feels more genuine than every other gift I received today combined.

I hesitate, suddenly uncertain. “You didn’t have to—”

“We wanted to,” Elira interrupts softly.

[Oh, this is disgustingly adorable.]

I shoot a glare at the system. Shut up.

Carefully, I take the box, untying the ribbon and peeling back the paper. Inside rests a small, intricately crafted silver pendant in the shape of a dragon. Its tiny wings are outstretched, and its eyes gleam with faint traces of magic. It’s… beautiful.

I run my thumb over the delicate scales, the metal cool against my skin. “You made this?”

Mara beams proudly. “We may have… called in a few favors.”

Elira’s voice is softer. “We wanted you to have something that wasn’t… forced on you.”

My chest tightens, and for a moment, I don’t trust myself to speak. I swallow, nodding once. “Thank you.”

Mara grins, her eyes shining. “You’re welcome.”

Elira inclines her head slightly. “Happy birthday, Elyzara.”

[I’m actually touched. Ugh.]

I ignore the system’s commentary, fastening the pendant around my neck. The weight of it is comforting, grounding in a way I hadn’t expected.

The moment is ruined, of course, when my chamber doors fly open and Verania strides in with the kind of energy that means nothing good for me.

“Darling!” she announces, far too cheerfully. “We have news.”

I don’t like news.

Sylvithra follows behind her, serene as ever, though there’s a glint in her eye that makes me wary.

“What now?” I ask, already exhausted.

“There’s going to be a banquet tonight,” Verania declares, clapping her hands together like it’s the best idea anyone has ever had.

I freeze. “No.”

“Yes,” Sylvithra corrects softly.

“No,” I repeat, more firmly.

[Yes,] the system chimes in, clearly enjoying my suffering.

“Absolutely not,” I insist. “I’ve had enough parading and smiling and pretending not to want to strangle people for one day.”

Verania waves a hand dismissively. “Nonsense. A banquet is the perfect way to end your birthday.”

“No.”

“It’s already planned,” Sylvithra adds, her calm tone somehow even more infuriating. “Invitations have been sent.”

I stare at them. “I hate you.”

Verania blows me a kiss. “Love you too, sweetheart.”

Mara and Elira, clearly used to my plight, suppress their laughter poorly.

I groan, sinking onto the edge of my bed. “A banquet.”

[On the bright side, you can scare more nobles.]

I sigh. “I suppose that’s something.”

“Get some rest,” Sylvithra advises gently. “You’ll need it.”

Verania winks. “It’s going to be unforgettable.”

I bury my face in my hands as they leave.

[Happy birthday to you.]

I groan, ignoring the system’s mocking tone. The exhaustion of the day, from the endless parade of sycophants to the overwhelming weight of responsibility, presses down on me. Even with the knowledge that a banquet awaits, sleep pulls at me relentlessly. I kick off my shoes, toss my cape onto a nearby chair, and collapse onto the bed. Within moments, the world fades away.

Unbeknownst to me, the real chaos is just beginning.

In another wing of the palace, far from my sleeping form, my family gathers with a singular mission: to ensure I enter the banquet looking every bit the tyrant they are grooming me to be.

Verania paces the length of the room, eyes gleaming with excitement. “She needs something unforgettable.”

“She always looks unforgettable,” Sylvithra replies calmly, seated gracefully with a cup of tea in hand. “But tonight, we need something… iconic.”

“Something that announces her presence before she even enters,” Saelira adds, fingers tapping thoughtfully against her chin.

“She’s already terrifying,” Eryndor points out with a grin. “But we can do better.”

“Much better,” Ilythia agrees.

The room they’ve chosen for this clandestine operation is draped in fabrics of every imaginable texture and color. Bolts of silk, velvet, and brocade are piled high, along with countless accessories—from polished armor pieces to delicate chains.

Verania, always drawn to the dramatic, picks up a long piece of black silk. “Too plain.”

Sylvithra stands, gliding over to a display of structured jackets adorned with intricate embroidery. “We need strength.”

“Power,” Eryndor adds, pulling out a tailored coat with sharp, angular shoulders and silver detailing.

“Regality,” Saelira muses, selecting a high-collared cape lined with crimson velvet.

Ilythia, more understated but no less intense, holds up a pair of black leather gloves adorned with silver clasps. “And precision.”

Verania grins. “Yes.”

Piece by piece, they begin assembling the ensemble.

The foundation: a tailored black military-style jacket with structured shoulders and a high collar, fitted perfectly to accentuate strength rather than delicacy. Silver embroidery in the shape of dragons coils along the edges, shimmering faintly under the light.

Beneath the jacket: a crisp, midnight-black shirt with a subtle sheen, the fabric smooth as water, tucked into fitted trousers that taper sharply at the ankles.

Eryndor insists on adding a wide, black leather belt adorned with silver studs and an engraved buckle shaped like a dragon’s head. “It adds authority.”

Saelira, unwilling to sacrifice elegance, drapes a long, flowing cape over the ensemble black on the outside with deep crimson lining that flashes with every movement. The cape fastens at the shoulders with ornate silver clasps shaped like dragon wings.

“Boots,” Ilythia declares, holding up a pair of knee-high black leather boots with silver buckles. “No heels. She’d kill us.”

Sylvithra smiles softly. “Practical and formidable.”

Verania’s eyes light up as she picks up a final piece: a silver pauldron to rest on one shoulder, engraved with ancient sigils of power. “Perfect.”

They stand back, admiring their creation. The outfit is not delicate, not soft it is commanding, sharp, and unmistakably regal. It is a declaration that Elyzara is not to be trifled with.

“She’ll hate us for this,” Eryndor chuckles.

“She’ll forgive us when she sees herself,” Sylvithra replies with a small smile.

“And when she sees how the nobles cower,” Verania adds.

“Let her rest,” Saelira says, though her eyes glint with anticipation. “When she wakes, she’ll be ready to conquer.”

Outside, the sun begins its slow descent. Inside, the storm is only gathering.