I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 331: Aunt duty

Malvoria sat behind her desk, chin resting on one fist, scowling at the stack of reports she’d already read twice.

Her office was neat suspiciously so. A rare ray of late-morning sun slanted across the dark wood, illuminating dust motes in the air and the gleaming obsidian handles of her swords.

The door was ajar, letting in the distant echo of castle life—somewhere a servant trilled a lullaby, and far off, a child’s high laughter rang like a bell.

But not Kaelith’s. Kaelith, her chaos, her fire, was off at the demon spa with Elysia and the "gentle souls."

Malvoria snorted at the phrase, rolling it over in her mind like a pebble in her boot. Gentle.

As if she were some rampaging beast who couldn’t keep her hands off the spell-engraved tiles. It wasn’t as if she’d ever burned down an entire bathhouse. Not intentionally, anyway.

Her gaze slid to the clock. Nearly lunch. She hadn’t had this much unbroken quiet in weeks.

One might have called it peace, but for Malvoria, it felt a lot like exile. Her fingers drummed restlessly against the wood.

She considered going down to the training yard maybe making the new recruits sweat a bit but then her stomach rumbled, a low, traitorous growl. Lunch it would be.

She stood, stretching her arms overhead until her joints cracked, and stepped out into the corridor. The castle felt oddly empty.

No scampering toddler feet. No Raveth’s battle chants from the other wing. No Veylira’s sharp laugh. Only a soft, contented quiet, broken now and then by a faint, fussy wail.

Curious, Malvoria followed the sound, her boots silent on the plush carpets. The noise led her to the solar—a bright, sun-washed room where the velvet chairs were positioned for maximum warmth.

There, to her immense amusement, she found Lara sitting with Aliyah on her lap, a bottle of milk in one hand, determination written across her face.

Aliyah, a tiny bundle of stubbornness with black horns just peeking through her downy hair, was having none of it. She twisted away from the bottle, mouth clamped shut, eyes flashing red with outrage.

Lara looked up, desperation and exasperation mingling in her expression. "Don’t just stand there grinning, help me!"

Malvoria leaned against the doorframe, arms folded, and let a slow smirk spread across her lips. "Motherhood suits you. Did you ever imagine you’d be tamed by a ten-pound dictator?"

Lara shot her a look that would have felled a lesser demon. "She’s not a dictator. She’s just—opinionated."

"Opinionated? She’s barely 1 months old and she already controls you better than any general I’ve seen," Malvoria replied, strolling into the room and peering down at Aliyah.

"What’s the matter, little one? Not hungry, or is this rebellion against dairy?"

Aliyah, as if on cue, let out a wail of protest, then promptly turned her head and pressed her face into Lara’s shoulder, hiding from the world.

Malvoria tried to keep a straight face, but a snort of laughter escaped. "Ah, she has your stubbornness. Did you try bribery?"

"She’s near one month old, not a recruit," Lara muttered, bouncing Aliyah gently. "What do you want me to do, offer her chocolate?"

"If it works, I’ll add it to the manual." Malvoria knelt beside the chair, lowering herself so she was level with Aliyah’s wary gaze.

"You know, when Kaelith didn’t want to eat, Elysia sang her this old lullaby about dragons and pies. Worked every time. Maybe your voice isn’t up to the task?"

Lara glared. "My voice is fine. I’m just not a performer."

Aliyah chose that moment to start squirming in earnest, kicking her feet and letting out a low, indignant grumble.

"Are you sure you’re holding her right?" Malvoria teased. "Maybe she wants to sit up, not lie down like a sack of potatoes."

Lara shot her another look, then repositioned Aliyah so she sat more upright, her head supported by Lara’s hand.

The baby blinked, inspecting her new view. The bottle was offered once more, and this time, Aliyah at least considered it—her lips parting, then closing again in a stubborn line.

Malvoria shook her head, grinning. "Unbelievable. We’ve faced entire armies with less resistance than this child gives a bottle."

Lara huffed, frustration rising. "If you think it’s so easy, you do it."

"Oh, gladly." Malvoria reached for Aliyah, lifting her with the sure, gentle hands of someone who’d done this before. "Come here, little general. Let’s see if you’ll accept a bribe from your favorite aunt."

Aliyah regarded her with serious eyes. Malvoria, undaunted, began to hum a tune—low and rolling, like thunder in the distance.

It was an old lullaby, one Malvoria’s mother had sung to her in the shadowed years of her own childhood.

She rocked Aliyah gently, her voice vibrating through her chest.

To her great satisfaction, Aliyah’s lashes fluttered, her mouth working uncertainly. The bottle was produced again, and, miracle of miracles, Aliyah latched on.

She suckled with noisy determination, her tiny fists kneading at Malvoria’s sleeve.

Lara stared, half relief, half envy. "You’re some kind of witch."

"Obviously," Malvoria replied smugly. "It runs in the family."

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, watching Aliyah eat. Sunlight played across the floor in shifting patterns, the air warm and golden.

Malvoria felt the edge of her boredom recede. There was something deeply satisfying in the quiet domesticity, the sense of family stitched together by stubbornness and care.

"You know," Lara said, her voice softer, "sometimes I wonder what Aliyah will be like when she’s older. Kaelith is all chaos and fire, but Aliyah... she seems to watch everything, weigh it. Like she’s waiting to decide."

Malvoria nodded. "Not all power is loud, Lara. Some of it’s silent, patient. The kind that waits until the right moment."

"Do you ever miss it?" Lara asked suddenly. "The quiet before Kaelith? The days when you could finish a meal without something being set on fire?"

Malvoria grinned. "No. Never. Not for a second." She bounced Aliyah gently. "There’s peace in chaos, if you look for it. And anyway, quiet is overrated."

Just then, Aliyah decided she’d had enough. She spat out the bottle with a wet plop, milk dribbling down her chin, and let out a triumphant cry.

Milk splattered across Malvoria’s uniform, landing on her sash with military precision.

Lara clapped a hand to her mouth, stifling a laugh. "She’s marking you as her own, Malvoria."

"I should have worn armor," Malvoria replied dryly, reaching for a cloth and mopping herself off. "Next time, you feed her. I’ll supervise."

But Aliyah, now finished with lunch, was in a celebratory mood. She wriggled out of Malvoria’s arms, nearly toppling herself, and kicked her feet against Lara’s thigh with impressive force. A new game, apparently: kick until the grownups give in.

Lara tickled Aliyah’s belly, making her giggle and gurgle. "It’s like she’s got Kaelith’s energy in miniature."

Malvoria grinned, letting the chaos unfold. "We’re doomed when they start teaming up."

They passed the next several minutes in happy, messy disorder. Lara tried to tidy Aliyah’s hair, but the child was determined to keep it tousled.

Malvoria attempted to redress her, only to be met with flailing fists and indignant grunts. When at last Aliyah was buttoned and wiped, she promptly rolled onto her stomach and started chewing on the edge of Lara’s sash.

"Think she’ll ever forgive us for not taking her to the spa?" Lara asked, sounding half-serious.

Malvoria watched Aliyah, her smile softer now. "No. And that’s how it should be."

The air was sweet with sunlight, laughter, and a hint of milk—a moment of peace in the endless, beautiful storm of family life.

As lunchtime bells chimed, Malvoria scooped Aliyah up, brushing a kiss to her forehead. "Let’s get you some real food, little one."