I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 233: You’ve already changed everything

Malvoria moved with uncharacteristic gentleness, her arms firm but careful as she carried Kaelith toward the cradle.

Elysia watched her wife closely, marveling at how someone so fierce, so often clad in blood and fire, could hold their child as though she were made of glass.

The cradle stood near the window, crafted from dark polished wood and carved with protective runes, celestial stars, and small lavender roses.

The delicate curtains shimmered faintly, the color of morning dew.

Elysia remembered picking them together—arguing with Malvoria over the difference between lavender and mauve while Veylira laughed behind her hand.

Malvoria leaned over the cradle and lowered their daughter gently into it. Kaelith stirred, one tiny fist lifting toward the sky like a warrior in her sleep.

Purple flames flickered harmlessly around her, brushing the edges of the runes which lit up in return, absorbing the magic. Then the baby sighed and settled.

Elysia smiled. She couldn’t stop smiling.

Malvoria turned back and made her way to the bed, where Elysia was propped up by soft, embroidered pillows.

Her hair was a bit of a mess, strands plastered to her forehead. She was sweaty and tired, but she felt radiant. Exhausted but whole. Changed forever.

"You didn’t eat yet," Malvoria said, already picking up the tray the maids had delivered earlier. It held an assortment of soft bread, fruits, cheeses, and a rich stew that smelled like garlic and saffron. The bowl was still steaming.

Elysia chuckled. "I was a little busy."

"Too busy to eat?" Malvoria settled beside her and lifted a spoonful of the stew.

"Unacceptable. You just gave birth to a half-demon powerhouse. Eat."

"You’re going to feed me?" Elysia teased, eyebrow raised.

"I’m going to spoil you. Starting now." Malvoria held out the spoon. Elysia took it with a small smile, chewing slowly, letting the warmth fill her stomach and chest.

She felt Malvoria’s gaze linger, then drop—lower, right to her breasts. Elysia rolled her eyes and elbowed her lightly. "You’re not being subtle."

"You’re literally glowing and half-naked with a new baby. I’m allowed to stare."

"Eat your own stew, pervert."

Malvoria grinned but took a piece of bread instead. "Don’t tempt me."

Before Elysia could respond with something equally scandalous, there was a knock at the door.

Malvoria stiffened slightly, casting a glance toward the cradle to ensure Kaelith was still asleep. "Who is it?"

"It’s Thalor," came her father’s voice, muffled through the wood.

Elysia blinked, straightening a little. Her hands instinctively adjusted her nightgown, and her heart gave an awkward twist.

"I’ll give you both some time," Malvoria said softly, placing the tray aside. She stood, brushed Elysia’s cheek with her thumb, and whispered, "Call me if you need anything."

Then she walked toward the door, pausing only to glance back at the cradle with a strange expression—equal parts awe and disbelief.

When the door opened, Thalor stepped in, regal as ever despite the clear awkwardness written across his face. His silver cloak was draped carefully over one arm, and his dark eyes locked immediately onto Elysia, then drifted to the cradle behind her.

"I—" he started.

"Hi, Father," she said gently.

He nodded once. "I wasn’t sure if I should come."

"You’re here now." She smiled, patting the edge of the bed. "Come sit."

He hesitated. There were so many things unsaid between them. So many moments lost to arguments, to fear, to pride. But still—he crossed the room and sat down beside her.

"I don’t know what to say," he admitted. "You—you survived childbirth in a demon palace. That alone is impressive."

"High praise."

"You know what I mean."

She did. They sat in silence for a while. Elysia took another bite of bread, and Thalor’s gaze kept wandering toward the cradle.

"Do you want to see her?" she asked.

His face gave something away—hesitation, fear, perhaps a deep worry he didn’t want to voice. But then he nodded.

Elysia reached down and carefully lifted Kaelith into her arms. The baby squirmed softly, yawning with her whole face, tiny horns glinting faintly in the candlelight. Elysia shifted, and Thalor leaned forward slightly.

"She has your hair," he murmured.

"And Malvoria’s eyes."

"And those flames..."

"Harmless," Elysia said firmly. "They don’t hurt me. Or anyone. They’re just... her. Like a heartbeat."

Thalor exhaled slowly. "She’s beautiful."

Elysia felt a lump in her throat. "Thank you."

"I didn’t know what to expect when you married Malvoria. I was angry. I feared for you. But—" he met her eyes—"you’re stronger than I gave you credit for. And happy, I think."

"I am."

"Good." He looked back to Kaelith. "And she’ll be strong too. Raised between realms. Born of two empires. She will never be safe, Elysia."

"I know."

"Then I hope she’ll be ready." He rose slowly. "And that you’ll be ready to teach her."

"I will be. With Malvoria."

Thalor gave a rare, genuine smile. "Of course." He hesitated again. "I’m proud of you."

Elysia’s eyes stung. She hadn’t realized how much she needed to hear that until he said it. "I’m glad you came."

He gave a final glance toward Kaelith, then turned toward the door. "Rest. I’ll visit again soon."

When the door closed behind him, Elysia was still for a long time, heart full, baby warm in her arms.

She kissed Kaelith’s soft forehead and whispered, "You’ve already changed everything."

Elysia gently shifted on the bed, the weight of Kaelith nestled perfectly in the crook of her arm.

The baby had stopped fussing, her tiny hand curling around the edge of Elysia’s nightgown.

The soft warmth of her daughter against her chest was unlike anything she had ever known—fragile, yet grounding. A tiny miracle made of fire, legacy, and an unexpected kind of love.

Outside, the castle moved on quietly. But here, in their room, it was still—only the rhythmic sound of Kaelith’s breathing and the soft rise and fall of her chest.

Elysia leaned down, pressing a kiss to her daughter’s forehead, just between the tiny budding horns.

"You’re safe," she whispered, her voice more breath than sound. "And so very loved."

She pulled the blanket higher, tucking them both in as her own exhaustion finally caught up to her.

Her eyelids grew heavy, her arm protectively wrapped around the small bundle of warmth. Kaelith gave a sleepy hum, the kind of noise that made Elysia’s heart flutter.

And just like that, they drifted together into slumber—mother and child, surrounded by gentle purple flames that flickered softly like lullabies in the dark.