Although Buku was somewhat willing to experience the joys (or madness) of natural childbirth—a rather novel concept for an entity that could rewrite biology itself like a cheat code—she and Ainz had ultimately decided against it. There simply wasn't time to wait a decade for Aura and Mare to mature in a slow, organic way, not with the ever-looming threats this world had.
Time was a luxury their ambition and security couldn't afford, and quite frankly, neither of them was particularly enthusiastic about enduring midnight wailing, tantrums, and endless diaper changing, as both knew they wouldn't just entrust the care of their children to others in such a situation.
Instead, they decided that the twins would be created as eleven-year-olds, the age they had been in YGGDRASIL. High elves in this version of reality matured at roughly the same pace as humans, only to have their aging decelerate once they approached and underwent physical and magic maturity. This made eleven the sweet spot: old enough to properly train, young enough to let them mature naturally.
Of course, this method was "infinitely less fun," as Buku had dryly muttered.
"I'm sure we can make up for it later," Momonga replied.
"Oh, we definitely will." She grinned.
Regarding biological races, most matured at roughly the same pace, though there were amusing exceptions. Orcs, for instance, seemed born to punch things and reached proper adulthood by thirteen. Naga, on the other hand, were notoriously slow, reaching adulthood at five hundred.
The issue now was that it would take all they had to create two new Supreme Beings simultaneously. It was a risky gamble; their usual mountain-crushing power levels would drop to something laughably mortal in those critical moments, weakening them greatly. Should another Supreme Being emerge and challenge them while they were still "recharging," the outcome might be... inconvenient, to say the least. Fortunately, their assumed recovery rate would bring them back to full capacity within days, though the idea of lying low like a recovering mage post-raid left a bitter taste in Ainz's nonexistent mouth.
After extensive preparations in defense and isolation, they had chosen to perform this ritual in complete privacy in their quarters. There was something sacred about this act that transcended game mechanics and delved into a realm older than magic: the act of creation itself. Though no intimacy was physical, it felt more profound than flesh to both of them.
Ainz was using mostly instinctive knowledge, and creating new Supreme Ones felt like a union between him and Buku. He reached out and clasped Buku's warm, human hand in his skeletal one as they started to pour energies through each other.
Energy began to flow like twin rivers, meeting at a godly confluence. Crimson and violet arcs danced across their arms, lighting the room in their pulsing brilliance. Each pulse synced with the beat of Buku's heart—Ainz had no pulse, of course, but his superior magic compensated, weaving its rhythm into the flow. The energy poured out of them and coalesced onto the bed before them, the sheets still pristine and tucked neatly.
Two humanoid shapes began forming in the bed before them, slowly gaining more pronounced features by the second. One shape hovered closer to Ainz, the other to Buku. Mare's outline shimmered first, uncertain and soft, while Aura's silhouette pulsed with a kinetic, vibrant enthusiasm even before she was fully born. Their features slowly emerged like sculptures chiseled from light itself—ears elongated with elegant curves, hair manifesting in trailing waves of gold and emerald. Silk-soft skin wrapped itself around glowing frameworks of incomplete images of muscle and bone, and the room filled with a low hum, a harmonic resonance.
Their incorporeal forms grew bright, humming with so much energy that the entire mountain began to shake around them. Oddly enough, the only thing that didn't move was the bed itself. Then, in an instant of luminescence so bright he felt a brief flash of pain, the twins formed into solid flesh and grew skin and hair, and Ainz felt Buku stagger a bit.
He felt the fatigue as well. The creation of twins had taken everything they had, and even then, both were only at half-strength and would reach their full potential upon adulthood.
Aura was first to take a wheezing breath and arch her back, her eyes opening in shock and confusion, not that he could blame her. The girl was born just a moment ago. Mare opened his eyes a moment later, his breaths more measured as he let out a whimper.
Beside him, Buku swayed, her knees buckling under the weight of immensely spent power. Reflexively, Ainz caught her, cradling her with the care of a battle-worn paladin, barely standing up himself. For the next hour or so, they likely would be weak enough to be killed by their stronger subordinates, including all dragons and most upper echelons. It was a vulnerability they couldn't afford to expose often and a sobering reminder that they weren't invincible. Not always.
But there was another, deeper reason for their restraint. To Ainz, the rest of the guardians were the children and works of his guildmates. To remake them without permission, even now, felt like defiling their trust. Ainz felt they weren't his and Buku's to make. The one exception would be his own creation, Pandora's Actor, but he didn't plan to get another child that soon.
On the bed, Aura sat up slowly and looked down, finding herself completely nude, and then glanced at her brother, who was in the same state—albeit much less perturbed. They were both still processing reality, if not the awkwardness of their first wardrobe malfunction. She distinctly remembered the end of the world Lord Momonga had talked about, but now she was staring at both Lord Momonga and Lady Buku, feeling a new tether – like she was their child.
Before the silence stretched too long, Ainz reached into his inventory and pulled forth two plain but soft robes. He tossed one to each of them. Aura snatched hers and clumsily scrambled to her feet, wrapping the robe around her like it might shield her from the confusion burning in her chest. "Lord Momonga, Lady-"
"Nope!" Buku interrupted her with a weak voice. "No lord stuff. You are our children, so call us Mom and Dad, got it?"
"Umm…so…" she tried again.
Buku tried to remain composed; her back slumped ever so slightly. "Ainz and I are married, and you are not the same Aura and Mare from Yggdrasil. We birthed you, and you are our children, Supreme Beings, the same as us." She weakly motioned for Ainz to let her sit down. She lowered herself slowly to sit at the edge of the bed, rubbing her temples with one hand as though warding off a headache.
Aura's jaw dropped. Her eyes, bright with gold and swirling arcane light, widened in amazement. "Wait, wait, wait! You are our parents, not just creators? And you're married?"
"Sis, stop screaming. Mom and Dad look very tired." Mare, on the other hand, just accepted everything at face value, looking a little bored. He pushed himself upright, took the robe, and slipped it on with all the urgency of a sleepy forest spirit awoken too early from its nap.
"Well, excuse me for being a bit surprised!" Aura huffed, crossing her arms. The awe she held for Ainz and Buku lingered; she could still feel the reverence towards her creators or, more precisely, parents, but she didn't feel lesser either. As her mother had stated, she was now a Supreme Being, a demigoddess in the making. That was all that mattered.
"They are our children, that's for sure," Buku declared with a fond chuckle, reaching out to ruffle Aura's hair. Her fingers brushed through strands that shimmered like starlight captured in spun gold. Aura made a half-hearted sound of protest but didn't pull away, the touch grounding her mind.
"We should get them up to speed… and inform the tailors and leather workers. Gear doesn't craft itself, even for princes and princesses," Ainz slowly commented as he sat down and mimicked Buku by gently stroking Mare's head; he allowed himself a rare flicker of pride. 'Aura may be Buku's favorite,' he thought, 'but Mare… Mare is mine.' He felt he and the boy were now a lot more similar than he would be with Mare's Yggdrasil counterpart. It was mainly his energy that made the boy the same as Buku's made Aura. Obviously, he would do his best to avoid preferential treatment and would ensure Buku did the same.
"Sure. So where are we?" Aura didn't hesitate to ask, snapping Ainz from his thoughts.
It was Buku who answered. She explained the shift from YGGDRASIL to this new world, brushing over the more intimate details–the slow-burn romance between herself and Ainz. There would be time to reveal that later—no need to overload her offspring with metaphysical tales that would fit right in with soap operas.
Both children listened intently, and once Buku finished, Aura spoke up with a stretch. "Looks like Mare and I already have a lot to do. Might as well start right away."
"Not until you are properly equipped and introduced to everyone. You are not floor guardians but a prince and princess of the Nazarick Empire. Today, you both settle in. Tomorrow, you begin."
Aura groaned dramatically. "But Mom—"
"No buts! Go explore your living spaces and request everything you need." Her tone brokered no argument, with Ainz barely keeping his composure and trying not to laugh at how much Aura resembled her mother. Mare gave his sister a sympathetic look but said nothing. His eyes flicked toward his father, sensing in some primal way that he was expected to be more like him. Silent. Observant. Tactful.
Even before the ritual, one thing had been non-negotiable: Mare would not wear girl clothing. The traumatic weirdness of his YGGDRASIL design was something Ainz never wanted to repeat. Buku had agreed—on the condition that Aura could wear whatever she wanted, even if it leaned toward boyish clothes. That was fine with him.
At Ainz's mental command, servants poured into their private quarters, ready to accommodate the expanded Imperial family. Aura and Mare already had their quarters prepared and their attendants ready to fulfill their every whim, paid well and trained even better. Both got ten whelps, each with visages of children of roughly the same age, boys for Mare and girls for Aura. The best dragon tailors and leather workers were ready to start making clothing and armor sets for the children the moment they got their measurements once they were settled into their rooms.
The last thing Ainz did was give Aura a divine-tier bow, Mare a divine-tier wooden staff, and plenty of protective jewelry for both. With their children ushered to their quarters and the doors closed, he slumped down on the bed, ready to have a deep, relaxing sleep. Buku did the same, curled against him, and mumbled, "We're parents now."
The obsidian-hued lounge just outside the Imperial bedchambers was shrouded in the thick silence. Nefarian sat with one leg crossed over the other, a picture of grim elegance. His dark, humanoid form—tall and lean like a corrupted highborn elf—wore a tailored black tunic trimmed in fel-gold. His clawed hands toyed lazily with a goblet of fine bloodwine, aged in the shadow of Blackrock Spire and enchanted to taste like the thrill of conquest.
His gaze, sharp as razors, never left the sealed door that separated them from the imperial couple and their newborn heirs. His master, Emperor Ainz Ooal Gown, had ordered the entirety of the Nazarick Empire to be on guard for any intrusions while he and his wife slept after creating the two new Supreme Ones: the Imperial Prince Mare Ooal Gown and Imperial Princess Aura Ooal Gown, the twin heirs of the empire. Even on the day of their birth, their power was undeniable, he had felt the sheer energy through the door and upon first appearance. The twins, who looked like eleven-year-olds, darker-skinned high elves in their natural forms, far surpassed him and Onyxia in terms of raw power alone, albeit still disoriented.
Nefarian had assured the Emperor that his children would be taken care of and appointed the most talented whelps as the attendants of the twins. Simultaneously, he and his sister guarded the master and his wife sitting in the lounge area just outside their bedroom. His master was greatly weakened, and although he couldn't dream of betraying his master, Nefarian understood the emperor's paranoia and wouldn't want to be in such a vulnerable position either. Of course, all black dragons were fiercely loyal to the imperial family. Still, the royals had enough enemies who could have sensed Ainz and Buku's weakness that an assassination attempt could happen, and that was why he was there.
If anyone were foolish and strong enough to be successful in such a heinous endeavor, not that Nefarian believed any force on Azeroth, even the Old Gods, would be, it would leave behind the prince and princess. Their wrath would sweep over the world like a tidal wave, much like the times of old.
"So, how long do you think it will take for Mare to reach adulthood?" Onyxia started the conversation while pulling the cork from a wine bottle and helping herself to a generous serving in her oversized glass.
Nefarian's ears twitched. He tilted his head and turned a slow, withering look toward his sister.
"Do you have a death wish? Or are you just being your usual delusional self?" he deadpanned. "You can't possibly believe you would be capable of carrying the child of a Supreme Being."
He poured himself a matching glass, though with far less flair. He was undead, yes, but of the fourth kind—a perfect undead, like the Emperor. Flesh preserved. Will intact. Capable of indulging in worldly pleasures. Capable of judging others for their choices and doing so with flair.
Onyxia rolled her eyes like a noblewoman hearing a poorly tuned bard. "I need a strong mate. And since your rotten carcass is about as useful as a eunuch succubus, my options are limited. Lord Mare will need consorts anyway once he matures. I highly doubt the empress will permit her children to mate with each other, given it is a law they instated themselves."
Nefarian scoffed so hard he nearly choked on his wine. "Just pick one of the wyrms. We need numbers, not aspirations of divine inbreeding. You are one of the few females not currently incubating younglings."
"I need a mate who is at least on my power level, and there aren't any left. Shame Sebellian is gone. He would have done just fine, and if memory serves, he wasn't as big of a prick as you." Onyxia sighed, long and theatrical, like a widow lamenting the decline of eligible suitors.
"Sebellian was a sniveling, opportunistic wimp with his head deep up his own backside. I don't get why Father let him lead the armies." He gulped down his wine and refilled it with slightly more force than necessary. "But yes, you are right. You're both egotistical and emotionally stunted. He would've been a perfect mate for you." Nefarian shot back without skipping a beat. He was Onyxia's better in all ways, including oratory battles. She had never won a battle between the duo, not even once.
Onyxia gave a low growl, signaling she didn't want to continue this fight. "And why do you think I can't carry a child of a supreme one? If anyone has a chance, it's either me or Alexstraza. Even Father considered that bitch for a mate. Maybe we could use her as the first test. If she dies, I'll discard the idea."
"Interesting proposition, but let's not rush it. The Emperor does not want wars, and you know what would happen if we kidnapped her without proper countermeasures. The demon soul was destroyed after all. Sebellian, on the other hand, might still be alive. We don't know if he perished on Draenor, and that world still exists." Nefarian commented.
"So, launch an expedition and find him and other survivors. The emperor and mistress would be thrilled if more black dragons could be found." Onyxia perked up.
"I can't just waltz into the Blasted Lands and flick the dark portal back on like a light switch." Nefarian interrupted, gulping down the alcohol. "You want me to divert forces when rogue black dragons still slither around the Badlands like feral dogs?"
Onyxia rolled her eyes as she stretched on the sofa, clearly unimpressed. "And how many could there possibly be? Six? Seven? Hiding in caves? Trying to mate with orcs?" The night would be long, and her brother was dry company.
"By my estimate, two dozen, maybe more. Dangerous wyrms unaccounted for, the ones Father didn't trust."
"And while you waste time chasing phantom dragons, I'll wait for Lord Mare to grow up. Four or five years is a small price to pay for power." Her voice dripped with sultry amusement. "Besides, I like my men young and terrifying."
Nefarian slammed his goblet down—not enough to shatter it, but enough to make a statement, sending fragile cracks throughout it. "You really are trying to get yourself skinned and raised as a skinless blob of an undead. Just pick one of the wyrms. Get pregnant. Contribute. Leave your fantasies for your dreams." Nefarian hissed, his patience with his sister running thin.
Onyxia's smile could've sliced glass. "I will not lower myself to mate with something weaker. I have standards. Something you should try having."
Nefarian leaned back in his chair, a smirk crawling across his face like rot spreading on flesh. "You're right. I should've known better than to have ever lowered myself to mate with you."
That one hit home.
Onyxia's eyes narrowed to venomous slits. She rose, dramatically turned her chair with one arm, and sat back down—her back to him in theatrical protest. It was a childish gesture, made all the more ridiculous by the black dragoness' serpentine grace and ego. As expected.
Nefarian poured himself another glass and leaned back, silently triumphant. The night was long, the siblings were toxic, and their masters were asleep.
If any fools dared to breach Nazarick tonight, they would burn.
Editing by NabeisWaifu, aidan_lo, and Nich L
Proofreading by I AM THE STRING CUTTER, fvvck, IAMTHEPLOKOKIOPO, and aidan_lo.
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