I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 212: You’re glowing

Malvoria stepped out of the forge, the velvet-wrapped blade warm in her arms, as if it still held the echo of her magic, of her resolve. Her chest buzzed with pride—quiet but fierce.

The naming blade was perfect. Elegant. Balanced. A symbol not just of lineage, but of protection. Of everything she wanted their child to grow into.

She hadn’t been this excited since... actually, no, she’d never been this excited. Not even when she’d seized her crown from her uncles’ bickering hands, not when she’d won her first war campaign, and certainly not when the Council had first called her "Queen."

This was different.

She was about to walk the familiar path toward the teleportation circle, already half-lost in thoughts of Elysia’s reaction, when she heard the telltale click of high-heeled boots and a dramatic sigh behind her.

"Gods above and below," said Veylira, "you’re glowing."

Malvoria halted mid-step and turned slowly, narrowing her eyes at her mother. "What are you doing here?"

"Admiring the rare sight of my daughter looking like she’s just been gifted a crown of roses." Veylira cocked her head, arms crossed, her red hair twisted in a sleek braid that glowed faintly under the forge’s ambient light. "It’s unsettling. Are you ill?"

"I am not glowing."

"Oh, darling, you are positively radiant. I haven’t seen this much enthusiasm from you since you set that diplomat’s wig on fire in public."

"That wig deserved to burn," Malvoria muttered.

Veylira stepped closer, looking at the velvet bundle in Malvoria’s arms. "Is that it? The blade?"

"Yes."

"You forged it yourself?"

"I oversaw every moment."

"My, my. Who knew romance turned you into a craftsman?"

"I am not—" Malvoria sighed. "It’s for the ceremony."

"I’m aware." Veylira arched a brow, smiling. "That’s why I came to find you. Because while you’ve been busy forging love-steeped death instruments, someone needs to remind you that a cradle doesn’t build itself."

Malvoria stared. "A... cradle?"

Veylira blinked slowly. "Yes. The thing you put a baby in when you’re not carrying them, kissing them, or panicking over their breathing?"

"I know what a cradle is," Malvoria snapped.

"Well, the ceremonial cradle for the naming needs to be made as well. It’s as traditional as the blade. Symbol of nurture, lineage, continuation—did you sleep through those ancient rites classes as a child?"

"I burned the syllabus."

"Of course you did."

Veylira brushed a speck of soot from Malvoria’s shoulder. "Anyway. The artisans are already drawing up some options. I told them to focus less on spikes and infernal carvings and more on ’not terrifying the baby.’ You’re welcome."

Malvoria gave her mother a deadpan look. "You’re meddling."

"I’m saving your heir from nightmares. It’s a public service."

"I can design a cradle."

"Oh, I’m sure. It’ll be black, sharp-edged, and humming with the wails of forgotten spirits."

Malvoria sighed deeply. "You act like I’m a villain."

Veylira patted her cheek. "You are. But now you’re a motherly villain. It changes things."

"I’m still the Demon Queen."

"And yet I’ve seen you cry over a heartbeat."

Malvoria opened her mouth, closed it, then hissed, "Don’t tell anyone."

Veylira winked. "My lips are sealed."

They stood there for a moment Malvoria didn’t really know what to say but the silence was weird and her mom was only smirking at her.

Finally, Veylira turned to leave. "I’ll have the cradle plans delivered to your chambers by tonight. But remember—blade and cradle. Strength and tenderness. That’s the balance."

Malvoria rolled her eyes. "I don’t need a lecture."

"No," Veylira said over her shoulder. "But I enjoy giving them."

The walk back to their quarters felt slower than usual, if only because Malvoria was half-distracted by her internal list of tasks and the sweet buzz of imagining Elysia holding the blade.

Would she be surprised?

Would she cry?

No, she wouldn’t cry. But she might press a hand to her mouth and smile in that gentle way she always did when overcome by something quiet and meaningful.Malvoria couldn’t wait to see Elysia reaction to it.

Malvoria’s heart thudded faster.

She reached their chambers and paused at the door, straightened her coat, and entered.

Elysia was lounging on the velvet divan by the window, one hand resting idly on her belly, the other flipping lazily through a book.

Sunlight poured around her like something divine. Her dress today was pale ivory and soft violet, accentuating her form, her glow, her very presence.

Malvoria stopped breathing for a moment. Elysia looked so beautiful and being pregnang made her look even more beautiful.

Elysia looked up and smiled. "You’re back."

"I brought you something," Malvoria said, walking forward and placing the velvet-wrapped blade on the low table in front of her.

Elysia raised a brow. "You forged that?"

"I oversaw it. Mostly. Maybe a little hammering."

Elysia sat up slowly, unwrapping the blade with care. The moment the steel gleamed under the afternoon light, her lips parted.

"Oh."

Malvoria stood behind her, watching every reaction, her voice quieter now.

"It’s for the naming ceremony. Forged from umbrasil and silvertine. Enchanted with protection runes. Balanced for one hand. It’s not meant for fighting. Not yet. It’s meant to... mean something."

Elysia ran a hand over the smooth flat of the blade, marveling at the etched runes. "It’s beautiful."

"I wanted it to reflect you."

Elysia turned to look up at her. "Me?"

Malvoria hesitated, then nodded. "You’re the one who will place it beside our child. You will be the first protector. The first defender."

Elysia blinked, and for a second, just a second, Malvoria saw the threat of tears. No tears today thought Malvoria, it was too special.

She reached out and took Malvoria’s hand. "Thank you."

Malvoria knelt in front of her, pressing a kiss to her knuckles, then lower—until she kissed the swell of Elysia’s belly.

The child kicked.

Malvoria smiled against the curve of her wife’s body.

"Someone approves," Elysia whispered.

"They always do," Malvoria murmured.