Chapter 32- Chaos & Cuddles

The room smelled like sex, citrus soap, and glitter.

The massive bed was a wreck. Sheets tangled. Pillows flung. One boot hanging from the chandelier. A bottle of lube balanced precariously on top of a helmet. It was a crime scene of absolute pleasure.

Mo lay starfish style across the center of the mattress, naked and gleaming with sweat, his curls wild and sticking out in all directions like he'd been electrocuted by love. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath.

"I think I died," he said, voice hoarse. "This is the afterlife. Glitter Heaven. I'm gonna haunt this bed forever."

Riven, lying on his side and lazily trailing a finger along Mo's stomach, smirked. "You'll be the hottest ghost in the castle. Horny but hot."

Mela flopped dramatically onto Mo's chest, her lips pressing a kiss to his collarbone. "That was so good I might start crying."

"I am crying," Mo sniffled.

They both paused, heads lifting.

And sure enough, Mo had watery eyes and that telltale pout he got right before his emotions did the cha cha across his soul.

"Shit," Mela whispered. "Was I too good?"

Riven kissed the side of Mo's face. "What's going on, baby monkey?"

Mo blinked hard, then let out a long, shaky breath. "I just… I don't know. I used to be a joke. A weird little demon monkey running wild through the kitchen stealing fruit and setting shit on fire for fun. And now I'm on the royal fucking council. Rhiannan trusts me. People are looking to me. And I'm scared. What if I mess it up? What if I don't deserve it?"

Silence wrapped around them for a beat.

Then Mela sat up on her knees, tits out, eyes blazing. "Listen here, Mo of the Glitterlands. You are a lot of things, chaotic, horny, dramatic, but you are also brilliant. You see people. You feel everything. And Rhiannan didn't pick you for your ass, though, let's be honest, that was probably a factor."

"Major factor," Riven nodded. "Top tier ass."

"She picked you because you care," Mela said fiercely. "Because you give a damn when others don't. Because you make this place feel like home, even in a war zone."

Mo looked at her, lips wobbling. "Fuck, I love you."

"We know," Riven said, kissing his shoulder. "And guess what, sparkle tits. You're not doing this alone. You've got us. Always."

"Forever," Mela whispered, curling into his side again.

Mo let out a wet laugh. "We're really out here building a kingdom together, huh?"

"With a council full of spicy weirdos and feral gays," Riven grinned.

"We should get matching cloaks," Mo said suddenly. "Royal Council Baddies. With rhinestones."

"No rhinestones," Riven said immediately.

"Okay, but what if they glowed?"

"...Fine. Subtle glow."

"Mo," Mela whispered, tugging the blanket over them, "whatever comes next, we've got you. We'll help you brainstorm. Make plans. Throw parties. Keep you grounded."

Mo closed his eyes and let himself be pulled into the tangle of limbs and love. Riven spooned him from behind, arms strong and sure. Mela draped over his chest like a soft, sexy armor of affection.

"I never thought I'd have this," Mo mumbled sleepily. "Power. Purpose. People who actually fucking see me."

"You earned it," Riven said.

"And you're gonna shine like the glitter gremlin king you are," Mela whispered.

Mo let out a final sigh as sleep crept in. "Y'all are my whole damn galaxy."

And just like that, wrapped in warmth and ridiculous amounts of love, the three of them drifted into the kind of sleep you only get when you're exactly where you belong.

Twelve hours to go.

And Mo was finally ready to become the man the kingdom needed, monkey chaos and all.

The castle stirred like a waking giant.

Sasha's soft morning chimes echoed through the halls, elegant and just faintly sarcastic.

"Good morning, bitches. It is now seven a.m. If you are not up yet, I suggest rising before the goddess personally smites your lazy ass. Five hours to the Trial of Valor. Let's fucking go."

In the newly built wing near the throne hall, tucked behind hidden doors that required biometric recognition, a shimmering plaque marked the entrance:

ROYAL COUNCIL LOUNGE- Authorized Badasses Only

Inside, the vibe was pure magical executive realness.

Sasha had outdone herself. Plush velvet seating arranged in a circular configuration. Floating boards glowing with maps, spreadsheets, and applications for the upcoming Noble Trials. A snack station enchanted to restock itself with pastries, fruit, coffee, and something Mo had labeled "emotional support cheese."

Mo was curled up cross legged on one of the sofas with a blueberry muffin in one hand and a pen in the other, scribbling trial category ideas with jam on his cheek.

"We definitely need a creative challenge," he mumbled. "Like, can they make a village banner using nothing but forest materials and unrelenting trauma?"

Reyna, hair braided back and eyes glowing faintly from a night full of dreams she hadn't shared yet, leaned over to sip her tea. "Can we not traumatize the applicants more than necessary?"

"I didn't say new trauma," Mo replied. "Just weaponize the existing stuff."

Gailia sat nearby with the baby twins wrapped up in her lap, calmly reviewing candidate profiles on a floating scroll while one of her twins rubbed her feet. She didn't even flinch when Sasha loudly projected someone's application photo with the caption "Name: Twinkie Bunsnatcher, former bard and thief, specializes in sex magic and financial fraud."

"Honestly," Bruxxa muttered, "that's better credentials than half the nobles we overthrew."

In the back corner, Soris was hovering over the tactical board like a fallen angel with insomnia, muttering about security patterns and shadow warding. Liora Sparkwhistle, glittery wings twitching, dropped a muffin crumb on his nose, giggling before flying off to harass Sasha's holographic interface.

Iriel and Neressa were cross referencing village requests with leyline access points, looking like an ancient married couple arguing over blueprints. Reyna nodded approvingly. Her people. Her chaos. Her family.

Meanwhile, upstairs in the royal suite…

Rhiannan groaned as she waddled toward the bathroom, one hand pressed to the small of her back and the other flipping off Sasha's chipper morning greeting.

"I swear to every divine being," she muttered, "if these babies don't come out with crowns and back pay for rent, I'm gonna hex them."

Kaleb raised an eyebrow, handing her a warm cloth. "You said you loved being pregnant last night."

"I said I loved the attention. I hate being pregnant. I feel like a glorified watermelon with rage issues."

The bathroom door slammed behind her, followed by Azarion's deep laugh and the sound of the shower turning on.

Fifteen minutes later, all seven of them emerged from the suite freshly cleaned, dressed for war, and armed with breakfast sandwiches to go.

Rhiannan's bump was definitely bigger. Enough that the tunic she wore didn't quite fit the same, and she walked with a small waddle that had Sable twitching like he might punch gravity itself for offending her.

Kaleb reached for her hand.

"You okay?"

"No," she snapped. "My tits hurt, my back hurts, I dreamed the castle turned into a uterus and tried to murder me, and I'm pretty sure my vagina is plotting revenge."

Arwen kissed the top of her head as they descended the steps. "That's a hard maybe on that last one."

Azarion didn't wait, he simply scooped her into his arms bridal style without warning.

Rhiannan squeaked. "Azarion! Put me down, I'm waddling with purpose!"

"You're waddling like a pissed off penguin," he said smoothly. "Let me carry you, majestic hormonal empress of mine."

Sasha's voice cut in as they hit the front gates.

"Uploading to Faenet now: Azarion carries his glowing pregnant goddess through castle like a shirtless war hero in heat. Hashtag blessed. Hashtag hump day hero. Hashtag no one else stands a fucking chance."

Faenet exploded.

Hearts, fire emojis, crown spam, and desperate declarations of love poured in from every screen around them. One user commented, 💬"If my man doesn't carry me like that, I'm divorcing him and marrying this visual."

Rhiannan groaned and hid her face in Azarion's shoulder.

"Why is everyone obsessed with me being pregnant?"

Kaleb snorted. "Because you look like a divine fertility ad with rage issues."

"I am rage issues."

Azarion kissed her temple. "And you're perfect."

As they crossed into the trial grounds, the arena already buzzing with energy and last minute preparations, Rhiannan sighed and gave in to being held.

Because honestly?

This was war.

And sometimes, going in carried like a damn queen was the only acceptable option.