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

Morning after calamity is heavy with a curious stillness, as if the air itself is holding its breath in expectation of judgment was that living, or merely a delay until the next blow? I woke in the tangled midst of the royal nursery, a twin under each arm, all three of us sleep-mussed and clutching to the shreds of a nightmare that still had teeth. Sunlight struggled through creaked shutters, hesitant to rejoice or be silent.

I lay there for a moment, breathing in Aeris's apple-scented hair, Arion's thumb clenched tightly over his lips, and the bitter scent of smoke and sweat on my own body. I wished to believe that we were safe. I wished to believe my world had ceased spinning out of control. But if I had learned anything in the last twenty-four hours, it was that safety like magic, like forgiveness could disappear at the first hint of trouble.

"Good morning, dictator," the system whispered, ironic and soft at the borders of my mind. Its voice was just a shade too reedy, not quite whole. [Congratulations. You didn't annihilate everything. Only most everything.]

I nearly laughed aloud. Nearly. But I was too scared to wake the twins.

I rolled onto my side, not wishing to knock them over, and let my mind rage through the night: terror in Aeris's eyes, wire around Arion's neck, Velka's blades slicing hope from darkness. Mara's wild charge, Elira's unyielding detachment, Riven's stupid bravery with his fists and sackcloth each of my companions had risked something that would never be regained.

The system was right. We'd won, by the slightest, ugliest of margins. And at what cost? I hadn't tallied it yet, wasn't certain.

Soft snuffling against my side. Aeris opened one eye, wary even in half-sleep. "Are they gone?"

I smoothed her hair, fighting a wave of relief and shame. "Yes, love. You're home."

She scowled. "You promised you'd always find us."

Guilt pounded in my bones. "I did. I will. Always."

Arion squirmed, glancing over at me with that tilted, hopeful smile that made me wish I'd never learned the word 'hostage.' "Can we have pancakes?"

At least that was a crisis I knew I could handle. "Only if you promise to eat something green as well."

He scowled, but Aeris laughed, and the universe tilted a little further towards right.

I got them fed and dressed with the help of Riven, who insisted on making a heroic mess in the kitchen ("I'm building character and immunity, Your Highness!"). Mara and Elira arrived soon after, both carrying the look of people who had wrestled death and won by biting it in the ankle and yelling at it until it limped away.

Velka trailed behind, her sleeve stained with blood, her expression daring anyone to comment on the limp in her walk. While she rested on the table beside me, speaking low. "How's your magic?"

I cringed. "More scrambled than ever. The system's online, but it's glitch rather than guide. Can't even succeed in extracting a teacup."

She snorted. "You and half the castle. Rebels left a trail of null fields in their wake half the wards are fizzing like rotten cider."

I glanced at the others. "Does the staff know what's going on?"

Elira shrugged. "They're coping. The bakery's put Riven on scone patrol to keep spirits up. Mara's been banned from any sort of rousing speech before noon, by royal order."

Mara, aghast: "That was once, and the fire was already half out!

Aeris and Arion finally clean, hair standing on end at lunatic angles leaped at Mara's legs, demanding stories of heroism and swashbuckling rescues. Mara launched into a wildly inaccurate version of our night out, featuring herself as pirate captain, Elira as sorcerer supreme, and Velka as "the shadowy knife-wielding figure who most likely has bandits for breakfast.".

I let it wash over me, a storm of laugh and exaggeration. The system, with an uncanny kindness, whispered in the back of my mind. [Let them laugh. It's the only magic you need right now.]

For an instant, I let myself think so. I let myself be the big sister, the princess, the half-broken dream that these children still clung to. My hands were shaking a bit as I sipped tea. I didn't think anyone noticed. Then Velka's hand dropped over mine, firm and silent.

"Eat," she ordered. "You look like you've battled a hurricane."

I smiled unevenly. "Feels about right."

The twins battled over who would get in my lap. Arion accused Aeris of being a scone cheater, and Mara seriously overruled him because, in her words, "monarchy means always letting your sister win at breakfast."

After the meal, the household gathered guards, maids, tutors, all battered and sleepless but alive. My mothers entered, arm in arm, regal even with circles under their eyes and torn cuffs at their wrists. Sylvithra pressed a kiss to my forehead, while Verania simply stood a pace away, drinking in the sight of us all as if afraid we'd vanish.

"Are you all right?" Sylvithra asked, brushing a strand of hair out of my cheek.

"No," I said honestly. "But we will be."

Verania looked at me. "You're different. Changed."

"I had to be," I said, glancing at the twins. "They needed me to be."

Aeris, clad in her dragon pajamas, leapt up: "She was the bravest princess there ever was! She yelled at the naughty man and threw a sandwich!"

Everyone was staring at me. Riven, not missing a beat, commented, "Heroic use of carbs possible new spellcasting class."

Elira, sarcastically: "If saving a kingdom is what it takes, I'll try anything."

But I saw concern behind their mocking. We all did. The system still wasn't sure. My magic failed when I tried a simple spark. Cracks ran through the palace.

After the breakfast commotion, Velka, Mara, Elira and I found sanctuary in the ancient council chambers to plot our next move. The map lay open on the table, re-drawn with fresh enemies, fresh allegiances, and fresh scars.

"We need to find out who orchestrated the kidnapping," Elira declared, cold eyes. "The rebels didn't orchestrate this on their own. There is someone who knew how to take your magic out of the picture.".

Mara curled her fingers. "I have spies in all the taverns and laundry. If there's a traitor, I'll find them."

Velka, quieter even than that, tracked her finger over the tunnels beneath the city. "It's not politics anymore. Someone wanted you broken, Elyzara. Not killed—broken. That means they're not finished."

I swallowed, dry throat. "Then we prepare. We observe. We heal. And we don't let them take anything else."

The engine whirred, slow and reluctant, but for the first time in days, I felt it real hope. Not the fairy tale variety, but the kind that blooms between scars, as persistent as weeds, as light as morning after a storm.