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

Morning sunlight spilled unapologetically through the open window, landing with pinpoint precision on my face. It felt like a targeted attack a personal betrayal by the universe itself. I groaned loudly, burying myself beneath the thick layers of blankets in a last-ditch effort to defy reality.

[Good morning, sunshine,] the system sang cheerfully, its voice disgustingly chipper. [Are you ready for another thrilling day of magical misadventures and poorly disguised existential dread?]

"Your optimism makes me nauseous," I grumbled into the pillow, eyes resolutely closed.

[You're welcome, darling,] the system replied, far too smugly for my liking. [But sadly, you have responsibilities. And apparently, breakfast. Even tyrants-in-training have to eat.]

I sighed dramatically, rolling over with extreme reluctance. Sleep had been elusive; thoughts of mysterious murals, Velka's strange behavior, and ominous whispers had chased each other around my brain until well after midnight. Now, I was expected to greet the morning with dignity and enthusiasm?

Nope. Unreasonable.

Still, the scent of breakfast was growing more tempting with every passing second. Eventually, my stomach's desperate pleas overcame my stubbornness. I dragged myself upright, blinking blearily in the harsh sunlight. "Fine. I'm up."

[Your heroic struggle is noted,] the system replied dryly.

"You're insufferable," I muttered, stumbling to my feet and catching sight of my reflection in the mirror. My hair looked as if it had declared war on my head during the night—silver strands pointing defiantly in every direction, like a rebellious porcupine.

Lovely.

With a frustrated sigh, I dragged a comb through the tangled mess, wincing as it snagged mercilessly. "Ow! You traitorous mop," I hissed. "Behave yourself or I'll cut you all off."

[Threatening your hair is a new low, even for you,] the system remarked, sounding genuinely amused.

I narrowed my eyes at the mirror. "Oh, shut up."

By the time I was presentable enough to leave my room, hunger had reached dangerous levels. My stomach growled loudly, a feral sound that seemed to echo mockingly down the corridor. I hurried toward the dining hall, hoping desperately no one else had heard it.

Unfortunately, fate had other ideas.

"Morning, Princess Bedhead," Riven greeted cheerfully from across the hall, a smirk tugging annoyingly at his lips. Aria stood beside him, her face a careful mask of polite neutrality, though her eyes danced with suppressed laughter.

"I will set you on fire," I threatened weakly, stabbing my fork menacingly in his direction.

Riven snorted, entirely unimpressed. "Please. You haven't had coffee yet. You're about as threatening as a mildly irritated kitten."

"Insults this early?" I grumbled, loading my plate with eggs and sausages. "Did someone replace your brain with a moldy cheese sandwich again?"

Aria finally laughed, her shoulders shaking with amusement. "Good morning, Elyzara. Rough night?"

I sank onto the bench beside her, feeling my irritation soften slightly at her genuine warmth. "If by 'rough night' you mean endless confusion, strange murals, and possibly life-altering revelations then yes."

Riven waved a dismissive hand. "Typical Tuesday for you, isn't it?"

I threw a piece of toast at his head, which he caught deftly. He winked as he took a bite, completely unfazed. "Thanks."

"You're intolerable," I sighed, turning pointedly toward Aria. "Have either of you seen Velka this morning?"

Aria shook her head. "No, actually. She usually appears by now, doesn't she?"

"Probably avoiding you again," Riven supplied helpfully through a mouthful of stolen toast. "Honestly, I'm surprised she's survived this long without spontaneously combusting from unresolved awkwardness."

I glared at him. "That is sadly an accurate assessment."

[Ouch,] the system murmured sympathetically. [Even Riven's picking up on it. That's grim.]

"Not helping," I thought sharply, hoping my irritation conveyed itself clearly enough to the disembodied nuisance.

But deep down, I couldn't deny it I was concerned. Velka's behavior yesterday had left me utterly confused. She'd avoided my eyes, retreated into aloof silence, yet her touch had lingered warmly against mine, leaving questions burning beneath my skin.

I bit thoughtfully into my sausage, chewing slowly. Maybe today I could finally pin her down, demand answers, or at least figure out why she couldn't look at me without twitching.

Riven nudged my arm suddenly, jolting me from my musings. "Speak of the devil, or in her case, the angsty bat queen. Here she comes."

Velka appeared at the entrance, her uniform immaculate, her dark hair cascading neatly over one shoulder. Her expression was calm, controlled, as if last night's bizarre events had never occurred. Yet when her eyes met mine for a fleeting instant, something flickered there panic? Curiosity? Regret?

Whatever it was, she quickly looked away, pretending intense interest in the fruit bowl on the far side of the hall.

I groaned softly, dropping my forehead onto the table. "What is her deal?"

Aria rubbed my back comfortingly. "Maybe she's just shy?"

Riven snorted loudly. "Velka Nightthorn, shy? Aria, please. She's about as shy as a rampaging werewolf at an all-you-can-eat buffet."

"Riven," I warned sharply. "Be nice."

He smirked, shrugging lazily. "Fine. She's as delicate as a poisoned dagger. Better?"

"Much."

Velka finally approached our table, carrying herself as if marching into battle. Her gaze flickered briefly to mine again just long enough to spark another blush across her pale skin before she seated herself stiffly at the farthest possible end of the bench.

"Morning," she muttered awkwardly, eyes fixed firmly on her plate.

"Morning," I echoed gently, hoping my voice sounded casual rather than as panicked as I suddenly felt.

"Are we ignoring the magical elephant in the room, then?" Riven asked dryly, popping another grape into his mouth. "The whole mural thing? That bit where Elyzara and Velka are apparently ancient magical soulmates or whatever?"

Velka choked slightly on her juice, coughing violently. "Excuse me?"

I slammed my foot into Riven's ankle beneath the table, eliciting a satisfying yelp. "He's joking," I said quickly, feeling my face burn.

"Mostly," Riven grumbled, rubbing his ankle and glaring at me. "And you're welcome."

Velka finally lifted her eyes fully to mine, something fierce and questioning simmering behind her guarded stare. "We… do need to talk," she admitted softly, voice barely audible.

My heart thudded painfully in my chest, but I managed a calm nod. "Yeah. We do."

[Oh, the suspense!] The system chirped eagerly. [Do try not to melt anything important during your heart-to-heart, please.]

I closed my eyes briefly, ignoring the voice in my head and the tension humming quietly across the table. Velka's presence felt more complicated than ever, yet strangely comforting. Beneath her cool exterior lay answers answers I needed desperately.

For now, however, breakfast called. I stabbed another sausage, deliberately ignoring Riven's smug expression, Aria's gentle concern, and Velka's careful avoidance of my gaze.

One problem at a time, Elyzara, I reminded myself firmly. And perhaps fewer insults aimed at my hair, Riven's questionable intelligence, or Velka's non-existent subtlety.

Well, no promises.

After all, mornings were definitely overrated.

I finished my last bite of breakfast and took a steadying breath, resolve filling my chest. Velka was still intently studying her juice glass, cheeks faintly pink, avoiding all possible eye contact. It was now or never.

I stood abruptly, causing Aria and Riven to glance up curiously. "Velka, we need to talk now."

She blinked, startled, then quickly masked her surprise with practiced composure. "Right here?"

"No," I said firmly. Without waiting for a reply, I stepped forward, reached out, and boldly hooked my arm through hers, gently pulling her from the bench. "Come on. Somewhere quieter."

She stiffened briefly beneath my touch, breath hitching softly, but didn't resist. I felt the heat rise in my own face but ignored it determinedly. Behind us, Riven muttered loudly, "Should we alert someone? Maybe the infirmary? Or a therapist?"

"Shut up, Riven," Aria said fondly, laughter in her voice.

I led Velka quickly through the dining hall and down a quiet corridor lined with ornate portraits and softly glowing sconces. My heart thudded relentlessly, nerves mingling with stubborn determination. Finally, I stopped in front of a small, seldom-used study, pushing open the heavy oak door and guiding Velka inside before closing it firmly behind us.

The silence was profound, wrapping around us gently as we faced each other in the dimly lit room. Bookshelves lined the walls, ancient tomes and artifacts watching silently as I met Velka's wide, uncertain gaze.

"You wanted privacy," Velka finally murmured, voice taut with something between nervousness and curiosity. "Here it is."

I took a deep breath, steadying myself. "Good. Now maybe we can finally figure out what's going on between us and what exactly that mural was about."

Velka hesitated, fingers twisting together anxiously. "I'm… not sure where to start."

I sighed softly, a faint, reassuring smile tugging at my lips. "Then let's start at the beginning whatever that might be.

Velka looked at me like I'd just handed her a bomb wrapped in silk delicate, dangerous, and undeniably hers to hold. She opened her mouth, closed it, then finally spoke, voice barely above a whisper. "I think I've seen you before. Not here. Not like this."

I blinked. "You mean the mural?"

She shook her head slowly. "No. In dreams. Fighting beside you. Calling me things that made my heart feel… like it wasn't mine."

Silence thickened around us.

"…Did I call you baby girl?" I asked dryly.

Velka turned crimson. "Please don't ever say that out loud again."