Her name was Elena Varma.

After becoming Emperor at a very young age, your mother became your personal secretary. It was a decision the council questioned at first, but one that quickly proved unquestionable. Fourteen years as a legal secretary had sharpened her mind beyond measure—documents, negotiations, schedules, and silent political traps were all things she handled with calm precision. She knew the law, the court, and the rhythm of power better than most ministers twice her age.

That morning, you walked into the kitchen just after waking up, the palace still quiet and wrapped in early light. Elena stood near the counter, already in motion. She wore a simple white top and dark slacks, her posture straight even in the quiet hour. Thin-framed glasses rested on her nose, blonde hair neatly tied back, a headset hooked over one ear as if she were always half a step ahead of the day. One hand poured coffee, the other moved across the laptop keyboard with practiced ease.

Steam rose from the cup as reports scrolled on the screen. Treaties, troop logistics, and council agendas—all reviewed before most of the palace had stirred. She glanced at you and smiled, not the smile of a subordinate, but of a mother who had watched you grow into the weight of an empire.

“Good morning, your Majesty~” she said softly but in mocking way. “You have three briefings today. Drink this first.”.