Help! My Moms Are Overpowered Tyrants, and I’m Stuck as Their Baby!
Chapter 204: Other Unscheduled Incidents

Chapter 204: Other Unscheduled Incidents

If you’re ever tempted to believe that a perfect evening at Arcanum Academy can last until morning, let me disabuse you: the universe abhors stability. Or perhaps it just finds young love amusing. Either way, when I (Elyzara, professional disaster and princess on probation) awoke the day after my secret greenhouse date with Velka, the world had found a new way to test us.

I woke to the gentle sound of chaos.

It started with Riven bursting through my dormitory door, one shoe missing, his hair bristling in every direction as if he’d wrestled a wind elemental and lost. “Zari!” he cried, breathless. “Come quick. The hedgehogs have staged a coup.”

I sat bolt upright, heart pounding, last night’s magical calm vaporizing. “You mean the enchanted ones in the Herbology courtyard?”

Riven nodded, eyes wide. “Yes, but now they’re everywhere. In the library, the dining hall—someone says they’re wearing little protest banners.”

Mara appeared behind him, rubbing sleep from her eyes and waving a half-eaten croissant. “They’ve barricaded the staff bathrooms and are refusing all negotiation. Apparently, they want ‘more respect’ and ‘greater access to mushrooms.'”

For a moment, I wondered if I was still dreaming. But I could hear faint, determined squeaks down the corridor.

“Is this… revolution by hedgehog?” I asked, half-horrified, half-amused.

Riven nodded again, more solemnly this time. “It’s an uprising, Zari. The Phoenix Study Group claims it’s performance art, but I think the hedgehogs are genuinely angry.”

Somewhere behind us, Velka’s laughter echoed down the hall dry, delighted, and only slightly wicked. “I warned you the roses would unionize if you weren’t careful, but I never imagined the hedgehogs would get there first.”

I pressed a hand to my face, stifling a snort. “All right. Mara, Riven assemble the council. Let’s see if we can solve this before the Headmistress starts hexing small mammals.”

We gathered in the common room. The mood was somewhere between panic and slapstick farce: students clustered in knots, sharing updates, while a flock of enchanted hedgehogs paraded past carrying placards that read “NO MORE CHEAP MUSHROOMS” and “DOWN WITH PINEAPPLE PIZZA.”

Mara, ever the strategist, drew a battle map on a napkin. “We need to cut off their supply lines. If we control the kitchens, maybe we can negotiate.”

Riven shook his head. “We need to appeal to their leaders. I’ve read that hedgehogs respond well to respect and snacks.”

Velka, who had just arrived, slouched against the wall, arms folded and eyes glittering. “Or we could just let them take over for a bit. I, for one, wouldn’t mind a day off from Advanced Potions.”

I glanced at Velka, grateful for her calm. “We have to do something. The last time the magical squirrels staged a protest, it took weeks to clear the acorns from the library.”

Before we could form a real plan, a delegation of hedgehogs approached. Their leader recognizable by a dapper blue ribbon and the way the others parted respectfully around him stood atop a footstool and glared up at us.

“Princess Elyzara,” he said, his voice surprisingly regal, “the time has come for meaningful change. We demand tastier mushrooms, proper winter bedding, and representation in the school council.”

I tried to meet his beady gaze without giggling. “I hear you. Your voices matter. Can we discuss your grievances over breakfast?”

The hedgehog pondered, then nodded. “If there are croissants.”

Riven nearly wept with relief. Mara scrawled new points on her napkin-map: “Negotiation table: croissants = leverage.”

We adjourned to the dining hall, Velka snatching my hand as we walked. “Are you sure you’re ready to be the first princess to broker peace with hedgehogs?”

“Given the alternatives,” I whispered, “I’ll risk it.”

The negotiations were… intense. The hedgehogs, as it turned out, had strong feelings about dessert menus and the appropriateness of pinecone décor in the holiday season. Riven performed a moving soliloquy on the joys of mushroom risotto. Mara offered to host a “Hedgehog Appreciation Day,” complete with student-made gifts and (very safe) fireworks.

Velka leaned close, voice a warm rumble against my ear. “If you solve this without violence or pastries thrown, you might just be ready for real politics.”

I gave her a sideways smile. “If I do, will you go to the masquerade with me?”

She grinned, fangs glinting. “You’re on.”

By the time the Headmistress arrived, the hedgehogs had accepted an offer: more mushrooms, honorary council seats (non-voting), and a promise that all future enchanted creature issues would be brought to me first.

The Headmistress surprisingly seemed impressed. “Not every princess would negotiate with revolutionaries of any species, Miss Elyzara.”

“I’m not every princess,” I replied, which earned a rare smile.

Afterward, Mara and Riven helped escort the hedgehogs back to the gardens, distributing cookies and peace medals. Velka lingered, glancing around to make sure we were alone.

She took my hand, her usual mask slipping just enough to let a little vulnerability through. “I like seeing you like this. Not just fighting for your crown, but listening actually making peace.”

I blushed, but didn’t let go. “I’m still learning.”

“So am I.” She paused. “About us, I mean. About what it means to care, to… try for something good.”

We stood in the sunlight, hedgehogs disappearing into the grass, our friends laughing nearby. For a moment, there was nothing but us and the endless sky.

I thought of all the disasters still looming Aria’s plotting, the Phoenix Study Group, the very real revolution growing outside the school walls. But here, in this ridiculous, magical morning, I could breathe.

Maybe, just maybe, this was the sort of leadership I wanted: not ruling by fear, but earning trust, one pastry and impossible problem at a time.

Velka squeezed my hand. “Come on, Zari. The world can wait. I want to show you the secret garden Mara swears doesn’t exist.”

“Lead the way,” I said, laughing, letting hope grow in the places where fear had lived for so long.

Velka grinned—one of those rare, unguarded smiles that made her look more mischievous than menacing. With a conspiratorial wink, she laced her fingers through mine and pulled me away from the main walkways, weaving through sunlit courtyards and shadowy side passages.

The school felt changed, lighter somehow, as if the hedgehog debacle had reset the castle’s mood from ‘looming insurrection’ to ‘mildly chaotic tea party.’ Every few steps, we had to dodge a trio of students chasing runaway jam tarts, or an enchanted broom sweeping a group of protesting first-years toward class. The halls themselves hummed with life: paintings whispered, ghosts gossiped, and I even glimpsed a gargoyle with a tiny protest sign (“Gargoyles Need Hobbies Too!”).

Velka led me past the greenhouse, then down a spiral stair cleverly hidden behind an oversized tapestry of the school’s founding a scene where the original Headmistress was clearly losing an argument with a very stubborn goat. She stopped in front of a battered wooden door, so ordinary I’d have missed it if she hadn’t pointed.

“Close your eyes,” she whispered.

I rolled them first, then obliged, feeling the gentle squeeze of her hand. The door creaked open; I was led forward into cool darkness, guided by her sure steps and the faint, giddy scent of wildflowers.

“Okay, open.”

I blinked in a sudden haze of color. The “secret” garden was not so much a garden as an explosion of enchanted nature—a hidden courtyard overgrown with golden lilies, moon-blue ferns, and a hundred varieties of magical flora that glowed, chirped, or rearranged themselves when you looked away. In one corner, a tiny stream trickled over smooth, rainbow stones; in another, a family of miniature dragons played hide-and-seek in the roots of a sprawling silver tree.

“Velka…” I breathed, awe chasing away every clever thing I might have said.

She looked pleased with herself. “Mara found it after her first failed alchemy exam. Swore it was luck, but I think the castle knew she needed it.”

I wandered, touching petals that sang faint notes under my fingers. “How many secrets do you think this place has?”

She shrugged. “More than we could find in a hundred lifetimes. That’s the fun.”

We settled beneath the silver tree, which obligingly arched its branches to shade us. The dragons eyed us suspiciously before deciding we weren’t a threat. Velka produced a pair of tiny crystal flutes filled with sparkling berry juice smuggled, I suspected, from the kitchens’ forbidden stash.

“To revolution,” she toasted, grinning. “And to surviving it with style.”

“To surviving you,” I replied, clinking our glasses.

We drank, legs stretched in the grass, and watched the garden change with every shift of the sun. The air shimmered with possibility. For the first time in ages, I wasn’t worried about the next disaster, or my parents, or who was plotting what in the shadows. I was here, with her, in a corner of the world so private even the most stubborn rumors couldn’t reach.

Eventually, the dragons curled up, and the silver tree began to hum a lullaby in a language older than the school itself. I rested my head on Velka’s shoulder, closing my eyes as warmth soaked into my bones.