[Emperor Cassius’s Pov]
"But that doesn’t apply to your daughter’s life, Cassius."
"What the hell does that mean?"
The room fell silent again, but this time, it was the kind that came before a storm—one I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop.
"It means just because you chose to avoid marriage and romance like a plague doesn’t mean Princess Lavinia will follow your lead. One day she’s going to fall in love."
My entire body locked up. "She will not."
"Oh, she will. And not with someone you approve of."
He leaned forward again, looking far too entertained.
"Just imagine it, Cassius. One day, a boy on a white horse from another kingdom rides into Elarion. Maybe he has curly hair. Big eyes. He recites poetry. Princess sees him in the garden. Her heart flutters. They exchange flowers. Letters. Next thing you know, she runs off to his castle like it’s a bloody fairy tale."
My fingers clenched into fists.
"I will kill that bastard."
"Sure, you can kill him." Regis nodded seriously."You’ll probably burn his whole kingdom, slaughter his family, and bring Princess back in chains—very on-brand for you. But what then, Cassius?"He leaned in, his voice suddenly low. "What if your daughter starts to hate you?"
Something snapped inside me. That... that word felt like poison.
The mere thought was absurd. Insulting. Terrifying.
Regis, that smug bastard, saw it on my face and pressed in with all the elegance of a dagger between ribs.
"That’s why," he said lightly, "to avoid such tragic betrayals and melodrama, let’s just tie our children together now. Easy solution. No white horses. No random princes. No dead kingdoms. Just me gaining a daughter-in-law I already adore, and you keeping your little princess in the family."
He grinned. "It’s a win-win."
My hand on my blade was still. I wanted to rip the grin off his face. But... in that moment, my mind betrayed me.
Lavinia, older, wearing some frilly gown I hated, smiling at some prissy foreign boy with too-perfect hair.
She’s laughing. Holding his hand.
And then—she’s leaving me.
Looking back with tears in her eyes as the carriage rolls away.
"I’ll write to you, Papa," she says sweetly.
Because some idiot with roses and rhyming couplets swept her off her feet.
And I—I let it happen.
"No." My voice came out tight. "No. I’ll raze every kingdom that tries to send me a suitor. I’ll burn every white horse. I’ll make poetry illegal."
Regis burst out laughing. "You’ll ban poetry?"
"Yes. I’ll hunt down every bard personally."
He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. "You’re such a tyrant father."
"Damn right, I am. If keeping my daughter with me makes me a tyrant, then I am."
Regis leaned forward again, more serious this time."That’s why... I want you to think about my proposal."
I couldn’t stand the thought of Lavinia getting clingy and whispering sweet nonsense to anyone—not even that little brat Osric.But... I couldn’t deny Regis’s words either.
I sighed. "...First catch that bastard baron. We’ll talk about this later."
I stood up and glanced toward Theon.
"Seal the borders. Do not let any young men on white horses inside Elarion. And... do not let any charming person, except me, near my daughter."
Without waiting for a response, I turned and walked out.
Behind me, Theon bowed and said, "Yes, my lord."
As I walked down the corridor, each step echoed louder than it should have. My mind was a storm—lightning thoughts and thunderous dread.
I scowled at the very idea. Lavinia. My little Lavinia. Talking sweetly to some lovesick boy. Blushing. Smiling. Letting him touch her hair—her hair.
My fists clenched at my sides.
"Should I ban marriages?" I muttered.
A nearby servant, unfortunate enough to be passing by, froze like a deer caught in the crossfire of a dragon’s breath.
"Go away," I growled.
He bowed so fast I thought his spine would snap. "Yes, Your Majesty!"
I resumed walking, faster now.
Marriage. The root of all problems. People become soft when in love. They lost focus. Lost power. Lost everything.
Lavinia didn’t need that. She had me.
She had a palace. An empire. Ten thousand soldiers at her command. What could some simpering fool with dimples and flowers possibly offer her?
I shook my head, disgusted.
Yes. Marriage was a sickness.
Perhaps I should issue a royal decree—no one in Elarion may marry until the age of sixty. And even then, only with my permission. Signed in blood. Reviewed yearly.
Wait—what if someone tried to marry her at sixty?
"No marriage. Ever. To anyone."
And then... I sighed. A long, tired sigh that seemed to rattle out of my bones.
"Looks like I’m losing my mind," I muttered.
With that, I turned and headed toward my chambers—where my daughter was waiting for me.
I sank deeper into the warm water, letting out a long, contented sigh.
Ah, it’s really good to be a rich kid, especially being a princess. I don’t have to do anything. I just get inside, and someone will help me scrub my back, bring me sweet-smelling oils, and even comb my hair like I’m some kind of royal goddess. It’s like magic. Magic made of gold and silk.
I stretched my legs out, watching the bubbles form and pop around me. Everything was just perfect. So perfect, in fact, I almost forgot about the one thing that was bothering me...
I furrowed my brows, wondering why he hadn’t come back yet. Was he still busy? My thoughts were starting to spiral when—
"Princess," Nanny’s voice came, soft yet firm, like a gentle warning. "It’s time to come out now."
I blinked, jolting upright in the tub and splashing water everywhere. "What?! Noooo! But I wanna stay more!" I flopped back down with an exaggerated sigh, my arms outstretched dramatically. "Nanny, let me stay for a while... please..."
I batted my lashes and made the best puppy-dog face I could muster, the one that always worked on Papa. I was positive it would work on Nanny, too.
Nanny, however, didn’t seem impressed. She simply folded her arms and stared down at me with an all-too-knowing look. "Princess, I really must insist. It’s getting late, and you’ll catch a cold if you stay in there too long."
I scoffed and ignored her, sinking deeper into the tub like an overdramatic mermaid. "Nanny, just five more minutes... And then the—"
I gasped as I suddenly felt two firm hands grab me by the sides and yank me up out of the tub. "We’ve had enough, Princess," Nanny said, her voice no-nonsense.
I squirmed in her grip, water dripping down my face as I gave her my best pout. "But I was just starting to relax! I could stay here all night—"
Nanny raised an eyebrow and, with a sigh that could rival my own, shook her head. "Not if I have anything to say about it."
As she set me down on the floor, I stared longingly back at my precious tub. My kingdom of bubbles... gone.
Sigh...I was really having fun in there.
People are right; no one can win against Mother in this world.
Marella chuckled as she stepped forward with a soft towel, gently drying my hair. "You always try to bargain, Princess, but you never win."
"I was this close to victory today," I said, holding my fingers apart dramatically.
Marella just smiled like grown-ups always do when they think they’ve already won the war.
After my hair was a fluffy cloud and I was wrapped in fresh clothes that smelled like heaven—like lavender, sunshine, and maybe magic—I tugged at her sleeve.
"Did Papa come back?" I asked, peeking up at her hopefully.
Marella nodded. "Yes, Princess. His Majesty has been waiting for you. He’s already in bed."
My eyes lit up. "Really?!"
Without another word, I dashed out of the room—bare feet slapping against the floor, silk sleeves flapping behind me like I was a very tiny, very determined bird.
When I reached Papa’s chamber, I peeked inside and spotted him sitting on the bed, looking like someone just told him the empire ran out of coffee.
He was in deep thought. The scary kind.
Eyebrows furrowed. Jaw tight. Eyes narrowed like he was preparing to declare war on someone.
I tiptoed closer. He didn’t even notice me. Papa looked... pissed. And annoyed. And maybe slightly murderous.
What happened? Did they catch the man who tried to kidnap me? Did someone step on his cape again? Did the nobles piss him off again?
Whatever it was, he looked like he was one "Your Majesty" away from exploding.
I launched myself onto the bed like a missile of love and cuteness.
Mission: Mood Rescue.Status: In Progress.