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

I had always known my grandparents were powerful figures, feared across nations, respected by rulers, and capable of shaping the course of history with a single decision.

What I had not expected was that they would also be the pettiest people I had ever met.

The moment we left the courtyard, I was scooped up.

Not by one grandparent.

Not by two.

By all four of them.

At the same time.

What resulted was a chaotic tug-of-war over my tiny four-year-old self, each grandparent refusing to relinquish control.

"She prefers my arms," Ilythia declared, holding me in an unshakable yet elegant grip.

"She is safest with me," Eryndor countered, trying to pry me from her grasp.

Saelira rolled her eyes and effortlessly plucked me from both of them. "Nonsense. I am clearly the best suited for this task."

Veylen, who had been quietly calculating weaknesses, simply waited for the exact moment Saelira's attention wavered and then swiftly intercepted me.

Everyone froze.

Veylen adjusted his hold, calmly victorious. "It appears I win."

I blinked. "Did I just get used as a prize?"

Mara, walking a safe distance behind, whispered to Elira, "We are watching history unfold."

Elira sighed. "We are watching sheer madness."

After several tense moments of glaring, my grandparents seemed to silently agree that sharing was beneath them, and thus, they carried me together.

I was now being escorted like an imperial artifact.

By the time we reached the dining hall, the staff was already in high gear, responding with terrifying efficiency to my grandparents' orders.

Long silver trays were being carried in, steam rising from freshly prepared dishes, the scent of spices, herbs, and slow-roasted meats filling the air.

The table was set with the kind of extravagance normally reserved for royal banquets.

Golden platters gleamed under the chandelier's glow, each adorned with flawlessly arranged delicacies:

• Velmorian Honeyed Roast – A tender, slow-cooked meat glazed with a rich honey sauce, accompanied by caramelized root vegetables.

• Silvermoon Risotto – A creamy dish infused with rare moonlit mushrooms that supposedly enhanced magical control.

• Celestial Fruit Medley – A plate of exotic, shimmering fruits that were rumored to glow softly under starlight.

• Imperial Spice Bread – Warm, golden-brown bread infused with cinnamon, nutmeg, and a hint of enchanted vanilla.

I stared.

"…Are we feeding an army?"

Ilythia, completely unbothered, gestured for me to be seated. "You must eat well, little one."

Eryndor nodded. "A strong body leads to a strong mind."

Saelira gracefully took her seat. "And it would be criminal to let you go a single day without the finest cuisine."

Veylen sipped his tea. "Efficiency dictates proper sustenance."

I sighed. "You all just want an excuse to spoil me."

Not a single one of them denied it.

Then the real battle began.

Because apparently, they also intended to feed me themselves.

One by one.

Like I was some prized royal pet.

Eryndor started first, lifting a carefully cut piece of honeyed roast and holding it toward me. "Eat."

I reluctantly took a bite.

It was, unsurprisingly, amazing.

Saelira immediately followed with a spoonful of Silvermoon Risotto, which I barely had time to swallow before another bite was offered.

Ilythia, with the grace of a seasoned diplomat, handed me a delicate piece of Celestial Fruit, the taste of it bursting like sweet starlight on my tongue.

Veylen, not to be outdone, placed a warm piece of Imperial Spice Bread in my hands, as if I were being prepared for some grand ritual.

Mara, watching from a safe distance, whispered, "Is she even chewing?"

Elira, horrified, muttered, "They are genuinely competing over who feeds her the best bite."

By the time I was halfway full, I was starting to question my survival.

I tried waving my hands. "Okay! I love all of this, but I think I—"

GROWL.

Everyone paused.

The table fell completely silent.

Not because of hunger.

But because I had just remembered something important.

I glanced at the clock.

I panicked.

"Oh no," I muttered.

Saelira immediately leaned forward. "What is it, dear?"

I shifted, adjusting my napkin. "I, um. I have somewhere to be."

Ilythia's brow lifted. "Where, little one?"

I chewed on my lip before saying, "I promised to visit my friend today."

Saelira blinked. "Friend?"

Eryndor frowned. "Who?"

Veylen looked suspicious. "Explain."

I cleared my throat. "Riven. He's my only friend. And I promised to see him once a week."

The tension in the room changed immediately.

Ilythia's expression softened. "A promise must be honored."

Eryndor leaned back thoughtfully. "A personal friend of yours?"

Saelira tilted her head. "Interesting."

Veylen tapped his fingers against the table. "And where is this Riven currently residing?"

I hesitated. "The, um. The orphanage."

Silence.

A long, drawn-out silence.

And then, all at once my grandparents turned their full attention to my mothers.

Saelira's violet eyes narrowed. "You placed her only friend in an orphanage?"

Eryndor's expression was unreadable. "Fascinating."

Ilythia folded her hands. "Questionable."

Veylen sighed, rubbing his temple. "Expected."

Verania groaned. "Oh, not this again."

Sylvithra calmly sipped her tea. "It was an acceptable arrangement."

Saelira raised a brow. "For whom?"

I blinked. "Oh. Oh, no. Are you about to adopt Riven?"

Eryndor hummed. "That is certainly an option."

Verania pointed at him. "No, it is not."

Ilythia smiled. "But what if it was?"

Sylvithra closed her eyes. "You cannot adopt every person Elyzara befriends."

Saelira sipped her wine. "You say that, but here we are."

Veylen set down his teacup. "We will accompany Elyzara to visit this Riven."

I perked up. "Really?"

Ilythia smiled. "Of course, little one."

Eryndor nodded. "It is only proper."

Verania groaned. "Oh, this is going to be a mess."

Sylvithra sighed. "A complete disaster."

Mara, still watching in awe, whispered, "This is the best thing that's ever happened."

And honestly?

I had to agree.

Once the grandparental feeding frenzy finally ended, I slumped back in my chair, feeling decidedly overstuffed and very, very loved.

Every single bite had been carefully selected and personally fed to me, and I was certain that I had just consumed enough food to last a small kingdom for a week.

Saelira dabbed at my lips with a silk napkin, the way one would handle a treasured artifact. "There. Perfect."

Ilythia smiled, pleased. "Now that you are properly nourished, we can proceed."

I blinked. "Proceed with what?"

Eryndor stood. "You must change before your visit to this Riven."

Veylen nodded. "Your current attire is not suited for travel."

I opened my mouth to protest then realized I had no way out of this.

And so, with absolutely no say in the matter, I was escorted no, paraded back to my chambers.

The moment we stepped inside, my grandparents immediately took command.

Ilythia gracefully moved to my wardrobe, opening it with a single, elegant motion. "We shall select something appropriate."

Saelira tilted her head. "Something refined."

Eryndor folded his arms. "Something that signifies strength."

Veylen, ever the strategist, murmured, "Something practical."

I knew then that this was going to take forever.

The debate started immediately.

Saelira picked up a luxurious navy-blue gown embroidered with silver filigree, holding it up with a critical eye. "This would suit her complexion."

Ilythia considered it thoughtfully. "It is elegant, but perhaps too formal for an orphanage visit."

Eryndor, without hesitation, pulled a military-style cloak from the wardrobe. "This would establish authority."

Veylen gave him a side glance. "She is four. She does not need to establish authority."

Eryndor raised a brow. "You would have said the same about her mothers."

Saelira sighed. "This is precisely why we must balance discipline with grace."

Verania, who had been watching from the doorway, smirked. "Oh, I am loving this."

Sylvithra muttered, "We are never leaving this room."

They weren't wrong.

The discussion spiraled further, with each grandparent presenting increasingly contrasting options.

Saelira favored noble attire, rich with embroidery and regal accessories.

Eryndor leaned toward structured ensembles, believing in the importance of a strong silhouette.

Ilythia pushed for something comfortable yet refined, focusing on graceful practicality.

Veylen, however, was the one who ended the debate.

Without a word, he pulled a masculine-styled outfit from the wardrobe a tailored navy vest, crisp white shirt, fitted trousers, and a black leather coat lined with silver accents.

The room went silent.

Saelira, surprisingly, hummed in approval. "It does suit her."

Eryndor nodded. "Acceptable."

Ilythia smiled. "Charming."

Veylen simply looked at me and said, "Efficient."

And just like that, my fate was sealed.

Mara, who had been watching the chaos unfold, whispered, "I can't believe they actually agreed on something."

Elira sighed. "It took them long enough."

I looked at my reflection in the mirror.

And honestly?

I loved it.