I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 242: I don’t look like I did before

The room had finally fallen into silence.

Elysia lay curled against Malvoria in their bed, the warmth of her wife’s body a balm against the soft ache that still lingered in her limbs.

Pillows surrounded them like a makeshift fortress, and the softest blankets had been pulled up to their waists.

Only a few embers glowed in the hearth across the room, flickering gently against the carved obsidian walls.

Kaelith was asleep. Miraculously, completely, blissfully asleep.

That alone felt like a rare cosmic alignment. Their daughter fiery, grinning, perpetually awake Kaelith had spent the past week in an unholy war against the concept of sleep itself.

She preferred to burn things. Blankets. Sleeves. Once, an unfortunate scroll.

Malvoria had declared it "spirited," Elysia had declared it "terrifying," and together they’d declared sleep a mythical creature only whispered about in legends.

But tonight, their little storm was sleeping in her cradle beside the bed, a faint flicker of purple flame curling above her cheek like a protective wisp. Her small chest rose and fell in soft rhythm.

A miracle.

Elysia’s eyes traced the edge of the cradle for a moment longer, then shifted back to Malvoria.

They were lying face to face, inches apart. Malvoria’s expression was peaceful in the dim light, her eyes half-lidded but alert, her hand resting over Elysia’s hip like a silent promise.

Her red hair was loose, spilling around her like ink, and she looked at Elysia with the kind of gentleness the world never expected from a queen who ruled with sword and flame.

But even as Elysia leaned into the warmth of that gaze, something heavy tugged at the edge of her thoughts.

Her body had changed. She could feel it.

The softness in her belly. The curve of her hips. The tender ache in her joints that lingered even weeks after birth. frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓

Her thighs had thickened; her breasts, once delicate and high, now fuller, marked with faint lines that hadn’t been there before. Her waist was no longer the neat, sculpted shape she’d once known.

And though Malvoria had never said anything, never even hinted at anything but love and reverence, Elysia couldn’t stop the quiet whisper that rose in her mind.

What if she doesn’t want this version of me?

She didn’t mean to tense. But she did.

Malvoria noticed.

"Elysia," she said, soft as velvet, "you’re thinking too loudly."

"I’m not," Elysia whispered.

"You are. And your shoulder’s gone stiff." Malvoria’s hand glided up her side slowly, sliding beneath the thin fabric of her nightdress with easy, familiar affection. "What is it?"

Elysia hesitated, chewing the inside of her cheek.

She didn’t want to ruin the calm.

Didn’t want to pull herself away from this moment, this impossible softness in a world built of steel and legacy.

But it slipped out anyway.

"I don’t look like I did before," she whispered, eyes cast downward. "Not exactly."

Malvoria was quiet.

So quiet that Elysia’s stomach twisted.

Then Malvoria sat up slightly, propping herself on one elbow, and gently pulled the blanket down, exposing Elysia to the waist.

Not with urgency.

Not with lust.

With reverence.

"Look at me," Malvoria said, voice low.

Elysia did.

"I will never love the way you looked before more than I love you now," she said firmly. "Because this body—this one—is the one that carried our daughter. The one that brought her into the world. The one that held her first. That still holds her."

Elysia swallowed.

Malvoria leaned down and kissed her collarbone, slow and warm.

"You think I haven’t noticed the changes?" she whispered between kisses. "Of course I have."

A kiss on the swell of her breast.

A kiss just above her heart.

"You think I haven’t memorized every new line, every soft curve, every mark that came from creating life?"

Her lips pressed reverently to the stretch of skin along Elysia’s ribs, where faint lines shimmered like pale silver in the low light.

"I worship them," Malvoria murmured.

She moved lower, dragging the fabric of the nightdress up with agonizing care.

A kiss to her stomach, just below the navel.

"Here," Malvoria whispered, "this is where she grew."

Her hand splayed across the soft flesh with possessive affection. She kissed it again.

Elysia’s throat grew tight.

Malvoria moved to her hips, her thighs, kissing each with gentle devotion. "You’ve changed," she said, "and I love every part of it. Every part of you."

She returned slowly, trailing her hand upward until it cradled Elysia’s jaw.

"You are still the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. And now you are more. More powerful. More radiant. More you."

Elysia blinked against the tears that welled up unbidden. "You really mean that?"

Malvoria leaned in and kissed her lips, slow and deep.

When she pulled back, she said, "You are my heart made flesh. The world may not know how to worship you properly, but I do."

Elysia reached up and touched her face. "You say these things so easily."

"Because they’re true."

She pulled Elysia closer, until they were chest to chest again, foreheads touching.

"I was terrified," Elysia admitted softly. "That you’d look at me and miss who I was. Miss how I used to be."

"I don’t miss a thing," Malvoria said. "And if anything, I fall harder every time you look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like I’m still enough."

Malvoria kissed her again, slowly, as if trying to press the truth into her skin.

Outside, the wind shifted across the outer windows. The hearth crackled. Kaelith snored—just barely—a soft puff of flame tickling the edge of the veiled cradle.

Malvoria and Elysia stayed tangled together, warm and close beneath the covers.

"I’m not just in love with you," Malvoria whispered. "I’m in love with the woman who became a mother. With the one who stayed soft in a world made to sharpen us. With the one who looks at chaos and finds laughter."

Elysia buried her face into Malvoria’s neck. "You’re not allowed to make me cry on clean sheets."

"I’ll ruin as many sheets as you like."

"You’re such a menace," Elysia said, voice thick.

"I’m your menace."