I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 206: Kaelith

Elysia had always known that love could be many things—messy, painful, fierce. But this?

This was the kind of love she never expected. The kind that bloomed in silence, in stolen glances, in fingers tangled beneath thick blankets and kisses that tasted like strawberries and breathless laughter.

Malvoria wasn’t always gentle.

She was the Demon Queen, after all. She burned like fire and bled like stone. But when they were alone—truly alone—she was something else entirely.

Her voice grew softer, like velvet drawn over iron. Her touch slowed. Her hands, which could summon swords from flame, now traced delicate patterns across Elysia’s skin as if memorizing every inch.

Right now, Elysia lay nestled between Malvoria’s arms, one hand resting lightly over her own growing belly.

The light from the enchanted chandelier above flickered with a soft golden hue, casting long shadows across the carved stone walls.

The chamber smelled faintly of rose oil and warm fruit leftovers from their earlier snack—and the warmth from Malvoria’s body seeped into hers.

She tilted her head slightly, resting her cheek against Malvoria’s collarbone.

"I could stay like this forever," she murmured.

Malvoria’s fingers, already buried in her hair, stroked lightly. "I’d allow it. I’ll cancel the meetings. Banish the captains. Lock the doors."

"You’d start a scandal."

"I’d start a trend," Malvoria corrected.

Elysia laughed, soft and musical. "You’re too powerful to be this ridiculous."

"Not ridiculous. In love."

Malvoria leaned down to press a kiss just above Elysia’s ear, then trailed another along the curve of her cheek. Elysia’s eyes fluttered closed.

These moments—they were precious. No battles, no court politics, no expectations. Just them. Two souls suspended in the safety of a moment carved out of war and fire.

"I’ve been thinking," Elysia whispered.

"That sounds dangerous."

"I’m serious," she said, pinching Malvoria’s side.

Malvoria pretended to wince. "Forgive me, darling wife. Go on."

Elysia let her fingers drift over her own belly, feeling the gentle swell of it beneath the silk of her nightgown. "Do you ever wonder what they’ll be like?"

Malvoria’s hand stilled over hers. "Every hour."

Elysia smiled faintly. "Do you think they’ll have your eyes?"

"I hope not. Mine are terrifying."

"I love them."

"They’re weapons."

"They’re beautiful."

Malvoria kissed her temple. "Then I hope they get your smile. It could bring armies to their knees."

Elysia shook her head. "You exaggerate."

"I don’t. You don’t see what I see."

The sincerity in Malvoria’s voice made Elysia’s breath catch. She shifted, turning to face her more directly, her hand still between theirs, cradling the place where their child slept.

"I want them to be strong," Elysia said softly.

"Not in the way people usually mean. Not just with magic or swords. I want them to be kind. Brave. Clever. I want them to make their own choices. Not because of crowns or bloodlines—but because they know who they are."

Malvoria’s face softened in a way few ever got to witness. "They’ll have all of that. Because they’ll have us."

"Think they’ll be rebellious?"

"Absolutely," Malvoria said, without hesitation. "Especially if they inherit your stubbornness."

Elysia gasped in mock offense. "You’re far more stubborn than I am."

"I’m focused. You’re adorably contrary."

"And yet you married me."

"I had no choice. You ruined all other options."

Elysia grinned, then leaned up to kiss her again. Slow. Deep. Familiar. The kind of kiss that felt like coming home. When they finally parted, they were both breathless, laughter ghosting between them.

Their bodies shifted, their hands tangling again over the curve of Elysia’s stomach. Malvoria’s fingers curled around Elysia’s wrist, grounding them both.

"I want to teach them how to ride," Malvoria said suddenly. "Early. Not on warhorses. On something smaller. Gentle. But fast. I want to see them fly through the fields without fear."

"I want to teach them to dance," Elysia murmured. "To hear music in their heart, not just in instruments."

Malvoria smirked. "What if they have no rhythm?"

"Then we blame your side of the family."

"Rude."

"Truthful."

They laid in silence for a few heartbeats, letting the soft warmth of the room wrap around them.

Outside the window, the sky had deepened into a soft twilight blue. The stars were beginning to pierce the heavens, scattered like dust.

Malvoria broke the silence. "Do you want them to know... everything? About the war. About how we came to be."

Elysia’s gaze flicked up to hers. "Yes. When they’re ready. I want them to understand the truth. And know that despite everything... love was always part of it."

Malvoria pressed her lips to her knuckles. "Then they’ll know."

Elysia sighed, content. Her eyes fluttered halfway shut, lulled by the warmth, the rhythm of Malvoria’s breathing, the safety of this cocoon they had built together.

And then—

"What do you think of Kaelith?" Malvoria asked.

Elysia blinked.

"...Kaelith?"

Malvoria’s eyes sparkled. "For a name."

Elysia tilted her head, chewing the syllables in her mind. "Kaelith."

She didn’t hate it.

In fact, it was starting to sound a little too perfect.

But she wasn’t going to let Malvoria win that easily.

"...We’ll put it on the list," she said, smiling mischievously.

Malvoria rolled her eyes. "It’s got to be at the top of the list." freewēbnoveℓ.com

Elysia smirked. "No, it’s not."

Malvoria gasped—an exaggerated, theatrical sound that would’ve suited a spoiled duchess in an overacted opera. "What do you mean, no? Kaelith is perfect."

Elysia tilted her head, amused. "It sounds... dramatic."

"Good," Malvoria said immediately, turning toward her with growing excitement. "It should be. Our child won’t be average. Why would we give them a name that’s forgettable?"

Elysia raised an eyebrow, not entirely convinced. "You still haven’t told me what it means."

Malvoria sat up a little straighter, her eyes gleaming, and her voice dropped an octave into that soft, reverent tone she only used when speaking about things she truly loved—fire magic, swordwork, and now, apparently, names.

"It’s old demon tongue," she began, brushing a few strands of silver hair behind Elysia’s ear as she spoke.

"Kaelith was the name of one of the first Flamebound, a warrior born of fire and prophecy. Not royalty, not even noble—just someone who fought to protect what mattered, even when the world burned."

Elysia’s teasing grin slowly faded as she listened. Malvoria’s hand was warm against her cheek now, grounding her.

"It means ’light from ash,’" Malvoria added, quieter now. "A reminder that something beautiful can come even from ruin. That destruction doesn’t have to be the end of a story."

Elysia blinked. Her heart beat a little faster.

"That’s..." she trailed off, at a rare loss for words. "That’s actually really beautiful."

Malvoria gave her a crooked, proud smile. "Told you."

Elysia let the name settle in her mind again, this time with its meaning wrapping around it like silk. Kaelith. Light from ash. Born from something broken—but shining anyway. It felt... right.

She glanced down at her belly, her hand instinctively returning there, cradling the small life nestled within.

"And if they’re nothing like that?" she whispered. "If they don’t want to be warriors or heroes?"

Malvoria’s smile softened, and she leaned down to press a kiss to her temple. "Then they’ll still be ours. And I’ll love them even more for choosing their own path."

Elysia closed her eyes, leaning into the warmth. The weight of the world—the war, the rebels, the uncertainty—faded for a moment.

All she felt was feeling now was hope.