I had no idea how, but I was going to find a way.
I had to.
But first… sleep.
Because apparently, being violently ejected from the womb, blasted with divine energy, and declared a world-destroying heir was exhausting.
Verania must have sensed my struggle, because she clutched me to her chest and let out an exaggerated gasp. "She's tired!"
Sylvithra sighed. "Of course, she is. She was just born."
"She needs rest! She must be placed in only the softest of beds!"
"I have already ensured that her nursery was prepared," Sylvithra said, her voice carrying the effortless arrogance of someone who had planned for world domination before breakfast. "Everything has been designed for maximum comfort."
Verania beamed at me. "Did you hear that, my little conqueror? Your bed is worthy of a war goddess."
I wasn't even listening. My newborn brain was already shutting down.
Verania, still holding me like I was a national treasure, strode through the halls of the palace with all the elegance of a rampaging bull, her boots thundering against the marble floors. Servants and guards pressed themselves against the walls, bowing so fast I thought someone's spine might snap.
"Make way for the Imperial Heir!" someone shouted.
"You're in the way of the baby! Move!"
"Her presence alone is too powerful!"
I wasn't doing anything. I was literally falling asleep.
After what felt like an eternity of dramatic striding, Verania finally stopped before a massive set of doors. They were at least twice the height of a normal person, carved from dark ebony wood, gilded in gold, and emblazoned with a flaming crest that practically screamed 'this room belongs to a mini-dictator.'
Two maids scrambled forward to open the doors, their hands visibly shaking. As soon as they pushed them apart, Verania stepped inside with all the grandeur of a war hero returning from battle.
I, meanwhile, took my first look at my newborn prison.
And holy hell.
The room was bigger than an entire mansion.
It was insane.
The ceiling was adorned with a crystal chandelier, its golden lights reflecting off walls of deep crimson and shimmering obsidian. Massive silk curtains draped across the windows, each one embroidered with intricate patterns of dragons, phoenixes, and emblems of conquest.
And the bed.
If you could even call it that.
It was less a crib and more a throne. A giant circular nest, made from the softest possible materials known to mankind, adorned with gilded railings, layered in velvet cushions, and was that fur from some mythical beast?
"This is where she will sleep," Sylvithra announced, as if presenting a holy artifact.
Verania nodded in approval. "It is perfect. Nothing less than the finest."
It was ridiculous.
I was a baby. I didn't need a luxury suite the size of a castle hall.
But before I could even mentally process how absurd my new life was, Verania carefully placed me in the oversized crib.
The moment I touched the obscenely soft fabric, my body melted into the cushions.
…Okay. Maybe this wasn't so bad.
[ New Status Effect: Ultimate Comfort. ]
Whatever. I was too tired to care.
As my eyes drifted shut, I vaguely heard Verania mutter, "I shall stand guard over her all night."
"She does not need a personal war guard," Sylvithra sighed.
"I shall stand guard over her all night," Verania repeated.
"Go to bed, Verania."
"No."
I was asleep before I heard the rest of their argument.
I woke up to the sound of trumpets.
Not just one trumpet. An entire army of trumpets.
Followed by cheering.And chanting.And loud, booming voices announcing my existence to the world.
I groggily opened my eyes, blinking against the morning sunlight that streamed through the massive nursery windows.
And then I heard it—
"GLORY TO THE IMPERIAL HEIR!"
Oh no.
I barely had time to process what was happening before Verania appeared above my crib, grinning like a lunatic.
"Awake already, my little war goddess?"
I gurgled in protest.
Sylvithra appeared beside her, looking as regal as ever, her silver hair cascading over her intricate morning robes. She studied me with a small, pleased smile. "It is time."
Time for what?
Before I could figure out what insanity awaited me, I was swiftly scooped up, wrapped in golden silks, and paraded out of my room like some sacred artifact.
I didn't need a system notification to tell me exactly what was happening.
This was the ceremony.
The official presentation of the imperial heir to the kingdom. And judging by the absurd amount of noise coming from outside…
This was going to be a disaster.
When we finally reached the royal balcony, I got my first real look at my kingdom.
And holy hell.
The entire palace courtyard was packed with people.
Hundreds, maybe thousands, of nobles, soldiers, and officials were gathered below, all dressed in their finest, all bowing so hard I was worried someone's spine might snap in half.
They looked terrified.
Some were shaking. Others were visibly sweating. A few looked like they were about to faint.
All of them stared up at the balcony like they were awaiting judgment.
A single voice rang out.
"BEHOLD! THE IMPERIAL HEIR!"
The entire crowd flinched.
And then, in perfect unison, they dropped to their knees and chanted:
"ALL HAIL THE HEIR OF WAR! ALL HAIL THE BLOOD PRINCESS! ALL HAIL THE TYRANT CHILD!"
…Excuse me?
[ New Title Acquired: Tyrant Child. ]
I hate it here.
Verania, standing proudly, held me up to the crowd like some sort of battle banner. "REJOICE! FOR THE FUTURE OF VELMORIA IS SECURE!"
The crowd cheered with their mouths but screamed with their eyes.
Sylvithra, who had the slightest look of amusement, leaned in and whispered, "Do not drop her."
Verania scoffed. "I would never."
I was too busy contemplating my life choices to care.
[ New Mission: Fix your reputation before you're old enough to talk. ]
…This was going to be a long childhood.