Help! My Moms Are Overpowered Tyrants, and I'm Stuck as Their Baby!-Chapter 172: The Night We Don’t Talk About

POV Elyzara

The dream started slowly, gently as though afraid that rushing would chase it away, leaving me alone again in the dark.

Mist rolled across a battlefield lit by the pale moon. Bodies and banners lay forgotten in the mud, the aftermath of violence so quiet now it seemed almost peaceful. The moon watched silently, glowing softly in the velvet sky, and I stood beneath it, dressed in black armor etched in silver flame. My hair flowed wild and unbound, heavy with memory.

Across the broken earth, through the mist and shadow, I saw her.

Velka.

She approached slowly, the light catching in her midnight eyes, making them gleam like polished obsidian. Her armor was dark as night, each line of metal perfectly fitted to her slender form, a black cloak flowing behind her like liquid silk. Her expression was soft, vulnerable in a way I'd rarely seen. Her gaze found mine and held it.

A breath. A heartbeat.

"You shouldn't be here," I whispered, my voice trembling.

"I'm exactly where I need to be," she replied gently, her voice velvet and smoke.

"I don't want you hurt," I said, my throat tightening.

"Then don't let them touch me," she smiled faintly. "Protect me, my Empress."

She reached out, fingers brushing mine. I felt sparks literal, magical sparks race up my arm, heat blooming beneath my skin, chasing away the cold of battle. I shivered softly, looking up into her face.

"I will always protect you," I murmured fiercely.

Her eyes softened further, vulnerability giving way to something deeper, something raw and beautiful and heartbreaking.

"Promise me," she whispered, voice shaking slightly, "you won't forget this. Whatever happens, promise you'll find me again."

I drew closer, every fiber of my being aching with urgency, fear, and desperate tenderness.

"I promise," I said, voice breaking. "Always."

Our lips met softly at first a breath, a tentative caress, then deeper, fire igniting fiercely within me. Velka's fingers wove through my hair, pulling me close as if I were something precious, something fragile. I clung to her, desperate, fierce, hopelessly lost. The night air swirled around us, tasting like smoke and tears and whispered secrets:

[WAKE UP.]

The voice slammed into my consciousness, rough and frantic, shattering the dream like glass. I shot upright in bed, breath hitching sharply, heart pounding painfully fast.

I clutched my chest, eyes wide. "W-what…?"

[Your pulse rate just hit "heart-attack-from-dreaming-about-kissing-your-vampire-rival" levels,] the system said dryly. [Care to explain?]

My cheeks burned violently. "No. Absolutely not."

On the floor, Smaug raised his enormous head, rumbling a worried growl. He blinked sleepily, gaze concerned, then promptly yawned, releasing a plume of gentle smoke that curled toward the ceiling.

"I'm fine," I assured him weakly. "Just… dreaming."

He huffed skeptically but lay down again, tail flicking restlessly.

My breath shuddered out, still trembling. My skin tingled, remembering phantom touches—her hands, her lips, the desperation in our embrace.

What in every godforsaken realm was happening to me?

[I think it's called puberty,] the system remarked dryly. [But with far more ancient soul-binding complications.]

"Shut up," I muttered, sliding from the bed, suddenly desperate for fresh air. The walls of my room felt suffocating, pressing too close, heavy with unanswered questions and forbidden memories.

The hallway outside my chambers was dim, candles flickering low. I pulled my cloak tightly around me, padding softly through empty corridors, out toward the balcony overlooking the sleeping grounds of Arcanum.

The night air was crisp, biting gently at my flushed skin, instantly sobering me. The stars stretched across the sky like scattered diamonds, silent witnesses to my confusion.

And there, standing in the moonlight, was Velka.

I froze, heart racing again for entirely different reasons.

She stood at the stone railing, her posture rigid yet oddly fragile beneath the moon's gentle light. Her dark hair rippled gently in the breeze, framing her pale, contemplative face.

"You couldn't sleep either?" she asked softly, without turning.

"Seems like I'm not the only one," I replied quietly, stepping hesitantly to join her. The silence settled again, comfortable yet charged.

Velka spoke again, softly enough I almost missed it: "Do you ever… remember things you shouldn't?"

I inhaled sharply, startled by her sudden vulnerability, but I didn't dare look away. "All the time."

She nodded slowly, eyes fixed somewhere far away. "I saw you in my dreams. But we were older. Different."

"I know," I whispered hoarsely. "I think I remember too."

The quiet between us stretched tight like a bowstring pulled taut.

"I saw us… before a battle," she continued, voice shaking slightly. "I saw us…"

"Kissing," I finished softly, voice trembling as much as hers. "You asked me to protect you."

She finally turned, gaze wide, uncertain. "So, it wasn't just me."

"No," I breathed. "It wasn't."

She hesitated, shivering slightly in the cold air. Then quietly, almost shyly, she removed her cloak, stepping forward.

"You're cold," she murmured softly, placing it gently over my shoulders. Her fingertips brushed my skin briefly, sending sparks cascading down my spine.

"Thank you," I whispered.

Her gaze met mine again, vulnerability flickering briefly across her composed face. She inhaled sharply, her eyes uncertain, before slowly stepping back again.

"Elyzara," she whispered, looking out at the stars, "what if all this… the visions, the memories… what if they're real? What if we've been running in circles for lifetimes?"

I swallowed hard, heart clenching painfully. "Then I think we owe it to ourselves to finally stop running."

She didn't reply immediately, simply stood quietly beside me, eyes bright with unshed emotion. Then, very softly, she said, "I'm afraid."

I smiled faintly, reaching tentatively to take her hand warm, gentle, comforting. "Me too."

For a heartbeat, she didn't move. Her fingers hovered in mine like she was unsure if they should stay. Then, quietly, deliberately, Velka's hand curled around mine. Her grip was light, as if afraid she might shatter me. Or herself.

The breeze pulled at our cloaks. The courtyard below us stretched in silent stillness, a painting in moonlight and marble. But the world beyond that railing didn't matter. Not in this moment. Not when she was looking at me like that.

"You're trembling," she whispered, barely audible.

"So are you," I replied, and it was true. I could feel it a tremor in her touch, the uncertain flutter of her magic brushing against mine like a breath caught in the chest.

"I don't understand what's happening to us," Velka murmured. Her voice cracked halfway through the sentence, like she hated admitting it.

I turned to face her fully. "Me neither."

The admission felt like surrender but a soft kind, like letting go of armor rather than control. We were both built to keep secrets, to bite our tongues and pretend we weren't scared. But here, in this sliver of quiet night, we weren't warriors or heirs or cursed bloodlines.

Just two girls on a balcony with ghosts in our bones.

Velka's eyes shone in the moonlight, twin rubies catching stars. She studied my face with hesitant wonder, like memorizing it in case I vanished. "Why do I remember things that never happened?" she asked. "Why does it feel like… like I knew your smile before I even knew your name?"

My breath hitched.

"I don't know," I said softly. "But it feels the same for me. Like… when I look at you, something in me settles. Even when you're being a pain."

She let out a weak laugh. "Oh gods. I knew that would ruin it."

"No," I said, stepping a little closer. "It makes it real."

The space between us tightened, filled with warmth and nervous silence and a thousand half-spoken things. I reached up, gently brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. Her eyes widened. She didn't move. Didn't breathe.

I let my fingers linger against her cheek, just for a moment.

"I think," I whispered, "if we've done this before… then maybe we're supposed to find each other again."

Velka blinked slowly, lashes dark with dew. Her voice, when it came, trembled. "Do you want to?"

"Find you?" I asked.

She nodded.

My hand slid from her cheek back down to her fingers, threading with hers again. I gave the smallest squeeze.

"Yes," I said. "Every time."

She exhaled like she'd been holding her breath since the day we met. A smile crept onto her face small, quiet, and full of disbelief.

And then, very slowly, Velka leaned forward.

Her forehead brushed mine, hesitant, reverent. Not a kiss just the suggestion of one. The kind of moment so fragile you didn't dare move, for fear it would scatter like starlight.

We stood like that, nose to nose, fingers entwined, magic humming faintly between our palms.

"Good," she whispered.

And in the hush of that night, under the stars and the watchful moon, I forgot everything else.

The wars. The prophecies. The thrones.

All I knew was her.

Just as the moment felt like it might stretch into eternity, the unmistakable sound of footsteps echoed from behind us, followed by a sharp voice:

"You two better not be—"

Mara's words trailed off as she and Elira rounded the corner, their eyes widening at the sight of Velka and me standing so close, still hand-in-hand, foreheads touching like two awkwardly star-crossed fools.

Elira raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "I don't know about you, Mara, but this feels like a very private moment."

Mara, ever the professional, just shook her head, her expression unreadable—except for the slight twitch of her lips.

"I—" Velka stammered, her face flushed. "It's not what it looks like."

"Oh, but I think it is," Mara teased, crossing her arms. "Isn't it, Elyzara?"

I groaned, tugging my hand out of Velka's grip, but not without giving her a glance that made my heart skip.

"I'll, uh, leave you two to it," Elira said with a wink before dragging Mara away.

Mara glanced back over her shoulder, her tone laced with sarcasm. "Just make sure you two don't accidentally destroy the balcony or anything."

Velka and I stood frozen, each trying to suppress laughter, our faces burning.

"Well, that's… one way to ruin a moment," I muttered, and Velka burst out laughing.

"Maybe next time we should lock the door," she suggested.