I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 342: Start of the banquet
Malvoria’s teasing started the moment they left the warmth and privacy of their rooms and stepped into the bustle of the castle’s corridors.
She adjusted her own high-collared jacket and cast a sidelong glance at Kaelith, who toddled beside them in her miniature general’s uniform.
Kaelith’s boots were a bit too big, the gold buttons a little shiny for her small frame, and she walked with the dramatic determination of someone who had only learned to walk a few months ago but had already decided she would conquer the world with every step.
"Look at those tiny marching feet," Malvoria said, her lips twitching in a barely restrained smile as she looked at Elysia. "It’s a wonder the castle’s foundation can withstand such a display of authority."
Elysia bit her lip, trying not to laugh as Kaelith—sensing the attention—stopped and planted her feet wide, hands on her hips, in a perfect imitation of her mother’s most imperious stance.
For a split second, she was the spitting image of Malvoria: chin high, eyes bright, ready to command a legion.
Then she wobbled, nearly lost her balance, and grabbed Malvoria’s leg for support, letting out a victorious squeak.
"Intimidation only works if you don’t fall over," Elysia murmured, reaching down to steady her.
Kaelith, undaunted, grinned up at both of them, babbling something that might have been "Mama, big!" and then set off again, boots squeaking softly on the polished stone.
They made their way through the halls together, Malvoria occasionally nudging Kaelith back into formation, Elysia sweeping her daughter’s hair into order and ensuring no porridge clung to the general’s jacket.
The entire household seemed to be buzzing, servants bustling by with flowers and banners, the scent of baking cakes and sweet wine drifting from the kitchens.
Musicians tuned their instruments in alcoves, the soft sound of strings and flutes mixing with the castle’s usual hum.
Just before they reached the grand entrance to the banquet hall, Veylira appeared, her expression as sharp as ever but her eyes soft with pride.
She glanced through the ornate doors into the hall, assessing the crowd: nobles from every corner of the realm, demon lords, human dignitaries, a scattering of Celestian guests clustered stiffly along the wall.
The hall shimmered with gold and crimson, tapestries hung high, the floor gleaming.
"It’s full," Veylira said, her tone brisk but approving.
"Word travels quickly when the royal family is involved. And Kaelith’s reputation precedes her—there are diplomats here who’ve brought gifts from distant lands, just to say they attended her first banquet."
Kaelith, perhaps feeling the weight of so many eyes beyond the door, fell unusually silent. 𝐟𝕣𝗲𝕖𝕨𝗲𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝗲𝚕.𝗰𝚘𝐦
She pressed closer to Malvoria, looking up with wide, solemn eyes. Elysia felt a surge of love and protectiveness, but also a fierce pride: her daughter, so small and yet already so significant.
"Ready?" Malvoria asked, crouching to lift Kaelith into her arms. The little girl wrapped her arms tight around Malvoria’s neck, burying her face in her mother’s collar for a moment. Elysia took Malvoria’s free hand and squeezed.
"Let’s make an entrance," Elysia said, her voice soft but steady.
The herald appeared—a tall, silver-haired demon whose voice could carry over any crowd. With a flourish, he struck the floor with his staff, and the doors swung open to a sudden hush.
"All rise for Her Majesty Queen Malvoria, Her Royal Consort Elysia of Arvandor, and Princess Kaelith!"
Elysia felt the eyes of the room sweep over them as they stepped through the threshold—Malvoria tall and imposing in black and crimson, Kaelith clutching her mother’s uniform, Elysia radiant in her matching gown.
There was a moment, just a heartbeat, where everything stilled: the hush of awe, the flash of hundreds of eyes, the distant shimmer of candlelight on polished gold.
Then, as one, the room bowed. Some more deeply than others—demons to their knees, humans bending at the waist, Celestians giving only the barest nods—but all, for an instant, united in recognition.
Malvoria carried Kaelith with easy pride, her grip gentle but secure. With her free hand she held Elysia’s, fingers intertwined, a visible promise to all present: this was her family, her strength, her future.
Elysia kept her chin high, meeting the gaze of friend and foe alike, letting the warmth in her chest carry her past every flicker of jealousy, every whisper of old grudges.
She glanced down at Kaelith, who peeked from behind Malvoria’s collar and, sensing safety in her mother’s arms, offered a small, bright wave.
They crossed the hall in stately procession, every step echoing in the high-vaulted chamber. Musicians began a slow, regal march.
At the far end, the three thrones awaited: Malvoria’s tall and imposing, Elysia’s set beside it, Kaelith’s smaller but no less ornate, polished dark wood with delicate gold inlay.
Malvoria paused, waited for Elysia to be seated, and then sat herself, settling Kaelith on her lap.
The little girl clung for a moment, then straightened, taking in the sea of faces with that same spark of command she’d shown in the corridor.
The hall settled, every whisper stilled. Malvoria rose, shifting Kaelith to one arm, and signaled for silence. Her presence was unmistakable—her voice, when she spoke, rang clear as a bell.
"Today," Malvoria began, "we celebrate not just a year since the birth of Princess Kaelith, but a year of peace, hope, and the promise of a new era for our realm. Today, you witness the strength of a family forged not by tradition, but by choice. You see before you not only your queen, but a mother, a wife, and a daughter—and I am proud of every role I hold."
She looked around the hall, her gaze lingering on the Celestian delegation, the human envoys, the demon nobles and their families.
"Kaelith has brought joy, chaos, and unity to this castle. She is the proof that demon and human, Celestian and other, can stand together as one. She is the future you will serve and protect, as you serve and protect me. Today, we honor her—and through her, we honor the path ahead for all our peoples."
She held Kaelith high for a moment, letting the crowd see her, then gently set her back on the throne.
There was a ripple of applause—formal, polite, but beneath it Elysia sensed something warmer, something genuine. For a fleeting moment, every eye in the room seemed softer, every heart a little more open.
"Let the banquet begin," Malvoria declared, and the tension broke. Servers appeared, carrying platters of food that glittered and steamed; wine was poured, bread was broken, laughter and music filled the space.
Elysia sat back, watching the room come alive. Kaelith, now nestled comfortably in her seat between her mothers, reached eagerly for a bowl of sugared fruit, her fingers sticky within seconds. Elysia wiped her hands, kissed her cheek, and let herself relax.
The hour that followed were a blur of flavors and color: sweet wine and spiced meats, pastries layered with cream, candied petals floating in crystal glasses.
The children of the court clustered around Kaelith, presenting her with handmade cards and nervous curtsies.
Kaelith, giddy with attention and sugar, babbled and waved, occasionally shoving a treat into Malvoria’s mouth, who took it with the gravity of a general accepting tribute.
Lara, Sarisa, and Aliyah arrived in a flurry of laughter, Aliyah nestled in her mother’s arms, blinking wide-eyed at the spectacle.
Veylira oversaw the proceedings like a hawk scanning for spilled drinks and unruly guests, offering quiet, pointed advice to the stewards, her pride only thinly veiled.
Throughout it all, Elysia and Malvoria remained close, their hands meeting under the table, their glances full of silent conversations.
They spoke with nobles, accepted congratulations, and navigated the occasional awkward comment from an old-fashioned Celestian dignitary.
Kaelith’s name was toasted, her future praised, her small hands squeezed by a dozen eager well-wishers.
Finally, when the plates were cleared and the music softened, the steward approached the dais with a deep bow. "Your Majesties," he said, "if it pleases you, it is now time for the giving of gifts."
