Help! My Moms Are Overpowered Tyrants, and I’m Stuck as Their Baby! - Chapter 78

Chapter 78: Breakfast and Baby Talk
I couldn’t believe we were still talking about this.

Then again, I shouldn’t have been surprised, because once my mothers decided on something, it was practically carved into stone. And right now, the Great Debate of the Second Heir was far from over.

I stood reluctantly beneath the shower, the hot water pouring down over my shoulders, soothing away the tense knots that had formed during our earlier conversation. Or, more accurately, during the interrogation my mothers had subjected me to about my potential sibling—or siblings, plural, because somehow twins had made their way into the conversation, and gods help me, they weren’t letting it go.

I scrubbed soap into my hair, silently glaring at the tiled wall in front of me.

Wasn’t one tyrannical princess enough for this family? Wasn’t I enough trouble already?

I sighed, loudly and dramatically, as if the steam around me might magically absorb my frustration. Of course, it didn’t. Because my life was nothing if not determined to mock my suffering.

I stepped out of the shower, drying myself off, and wrapped a soft, fluffy towel around my body. My reflection stared back at me from the steamed mirror, looking significantly less regal than usual, hair damp and hanging limply around my shoulders, eyes shadowed by the exhaustion of having tyrants for parents.

[ Cheer up. At least you’re still the favorite child. For now, anyway. ]

I narrowed my eyes at the invisible presence that had become my constant, if annoyingly sarcastic, companion.

“Don’t remind me,” I muttered.

After selecting my clothes a tailored black shirt tucked neatly into dark trousers, paired with a silver-embroidered waistcoat I allowed Mara and Elira to help finish my preparations. Elira braided my silver hair intricately along one side, leaving the other half cascading freely. Mara hummed cheerfully, completely unaware of my internal turmoil or perhaps fully aware and simply amused by it.

When I finally emerged from my room, my parents stood waiting, arms linked and matching smirks on their faces, as if they had somehow won some private victory. Probably because they thought they’d convinced me to actively participate in this sibling business.

Not happening.

“Are you ready, dear?” Verania asked, smiling warmly.

“As ready as I’ll ever be to face more madness,” I muttered, falling into step beside them.

The dining hall was bustling with activity when we entered. Golden sunlight poured through the high, arched windows, illuminating the polished wooden table, now covered with trays of fresh fruit, buttery pastries, fluffy pancakes drenched in honey, sizzling bacon, and bowls piled high with ripe berries and cream. It smelled divine, warm bread mingling with fresh spices and the heady scent of coffee.

My grandparents were already seated, waiting patiently and by patiently, I mean staring at the door with barely-contained excitement. Grand Empress Saelira immediately gestured to the empty seat next to her.

“Come, Elyzara, sit next to me,” she ordered, her violet eyes softening when she saw me. I obediently complied, taking the seat next to her as she began piling food onto my plate. Freshly baked pastries, thick slices of bacon, eggs cooked to perfection, and ripe fruits were swiftly added, nearly overflowing my plate.

“Don’t forget to eat plenty,” Grand Warlord Eryndor added, placing even more food onto my plate. “You’re still growing, after all.”

“I think she’ll explode if you keep piling food on,” Grand Consort Ilythia commented, amused.

Grand Strategist Veylen shook his head. “A good appetite is a sign of strength.”

I stared at my plate, overwhelmed. “It’s a sign that you’re trying to fatten me up for sacrifice.”

Everyone laughed, though I’m pretty sure none of them thought I was joking.

As breakfast began, Sylvithra casually cleared her throat. “We were discussing earlier the possibility of having another child.”

The room immediately fell silent.

Saelira’s fork froze halfway to her mouth. “Another child?”

“Or two,” Sylvithra added casually. “Perhaps twins.”

My grandparents exchanged glances, processing the news. Then, as if someone had lit a spark, the discussion erupted.

“Marvelous!” Saelira said, clapping her hands together. “Elyzara needs siblings. She cannot bear the burden of world domination alone.”

“I disagree,” Eryndor said, eyeing me seriously. “She can conquer the world perfectly fine on her own. More children might distract from her training.”

Sylvithra shook her head, amused. “On the contrary, dear father. It would provide her with valuable experience in commanding others.”

I held up my hands. “Wait, I didn’t agree to—”

Ilythia leaned forward, clearly intrigued. “Who will carry the child this time? You mentioned earlier it could be Verania?”

I glanced at Verania, who smiled slyly.

“I think it would only be fair,” Sylvithra said, eyeing her wife with undisguised amusement. “It’s your turn, my love.”

Verania shrugged elegantly. “I wouldn’t mind. Though perhaps we should ask Elyzara if she has a preference?”

I looked around the table helplessly. “Why are we discussing this like it’s already decided?”

Veylen, always the voice of reason, or so I thought, cleared his throat. “Well, have you considered triplets? Why limit yourselves?”

My jaw dropped open in horror. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

Veylen merely smiled faintly. “It was merely a suggestion.”

I shook my head slowly. “You’re all insane.”

My grandparents ignored me, now thoroughly embroiled in a passionate debate over how many siblings I should have, what traits they should possess, and who should carry them. My mothers nodded along thoughtfully, occasionally chiming in with disturbing suggestions like “perhaps we could give them innate sword skills,” or “increased resistance to poison.”

The breakfast itself was spectacular, but I barely tasted the fresh pastries, honey-glazed ham, soft scrambled eggs garnished with chives, and rich, creamy yogurt topped with ripe berries. Even Smaug, happily devouring strips of bacon, paused occasionally to listen with evident amusement, as if he were enjoying my torment.

Finally, I managed to interject into the madness. “Look, could we please pause this insanity for just one minute?”

They turned toward me expectantly.

I rubbed my temples. “First, maybe we should consider the implications of adding more tyrants to this already terrifying family. Secondly why does everyone think I need siblings?”

Verania reached over, gently patting my hand. “Because, darling, you’re lonely.”

“I’m not lonely,” I protested weakly.

[You have one friend and a pet dragon. You’re definitely lonely.]

“Quiet,” I thought irritably, but the system was annoyingly correct.

Saelira tilted her head thoughtfully. “You could use someone else to boss around, Elyzara. It builds character.”

Sylvithra nodded. “Exactly. Imagine teaching them your magic—”

“No!” I immediately blurted. “My magic is dangerous enough with just me using it.”

They exchanged looks again.

“Perhaps you’re right,” Sylvithra conceded reluctantly. “But think of how powerful the family could become.”

I sighed deeply, resigning myself to my fate. They were relentless. My parents and grandparents had already moved on to discussing potential nursery designs and whether the new children should be raised to worship me or compete with me both scenarios sounding equally terrifying.

Eventually, after a very long breakfast filled with debates about sibling names (which ranged from respectable to utterly ridiculous someone had actually suggested naming them ‘Devastation’ and ‘Annihilation’), I leaned back in my chair, defeated.

“Fine,” I said, throwing my hands up in surrender. “Have as many tyrants as you want, just don’t expect me to babysit.”

Verania smiled warmly. “Of course not, darling. You’ll just have to lead them by example.”

I rolled my eyes, pushing away from the table. “I need some fresh air.”

As I left the dining room, accompanied by Smaug, who was still chewing on a strip of ham, I heard Saelira’s voice behind me, filled with excitement.

“I think Elyzara’s going to love having siblings.”

[They’re going to regret this.]

“Yes,” I muttered quietly. “I think we all are.”