Too Lazy to be a Villainess - Chapter 293

Chapter 293: The Crown That Smirks at War
[Emperor Cassius’s POV—Throne Hall—Nightfall]

The wine swirled lazily in my goblet—deep crimson, like the blood that had bought this peace. I leaned back on the throne, one arm draped over its lion-carved rest. The hall was quiet… too quiet. Then came footsteps—two sets. One steady, disciplined. The other, insolent.

Ravick entered first, bowing low. Behind him trailed Rey, with that infuriating smirk plastered across his face.

“Greetings, Your Majesty,” Rey drawled, dipping into a bow that mocked more than it respected. “How may this humble servant serve you tonight?”

“Spare me the theatrics,” I cut him off. My voice slid across the hall like winter. “Answer me plainly, Rey. Did Osric—by any chance—hurt my daughter during the hunting competition?”

Rey’s smile sharpened. “And why not ask the princess herself, Emperor? She might tell you.” His tone was a challenge wrapped in mock concern.

I sighed—not from weariness, but to restrain the storm building beneath my ribs. “That’s precisely the problem,” I murmured. “She’s grown too much. Learned to smile when she’s hurt… to lie when she’s bleeding.”

My fingers tightened around the goblet. “And as a father, it wounds me when my daughter hides her pain, even the slightest. So, Rey—” my gaze darkened “—do not test my patience. Speak the truth.”

Rey’s smirk faltered, just a flicker. Then he straightened. “Well, I heard that Osric hurt the princess’s pride… quite deeply. He knelt before her and begged forgiveness—for Count Talvan’s adopted daughter, Lady Eleania.”

The words hit harder than steel. For a heartbeat, I was silent. Then—

CLANG!

The goblet shattered against the marble, red wine splattering across my boots like blood. Ravick stiffened. Rey only watched, his smirk crawling back into place.

My voice dropped to a growl. “That insolent bastard… How dare he. I should’ve never agreed to this farce of a marriage.”

“Your Majesty, please—” Ravick began, but my glare cut through the air like a blade.

“That boy once wounded her—in another life or this one, it makes no difference. He always finds a way to hurt her. To kneel for someone else before her.” My jaw tightened. “And I, the fool, trusted him.”

Rey tilted his head. “But, Your Majesty,” he said smoothly, “it seems your daughter has already forgiven him. And you wouldn’t do anything that might hurt her, would you?”

The room froze. Even the torches seemed to dim.

My knuckles whitened against the armrest.

“That man was never worthy of her,” I said quietly—dangerously. “No matter how much I try, fate keeps tangling their paths, as if mocking me.” My eyes glinted, cold and golden. “Sometimes I wonder if I should crush fate itself—before it dares to touch my daughter again.”

Rey and Ravick exchanged a glance, tension coiling in the air.

Ravick cleared his throat. “I agree with you, Your Majesty. Our princess deserves no man who bows before another. But…” He hesitated. “…we should trust her too. Perhaps she hasn’t forgiven him, but maybe… she’s giving him one last chance.”

I leaned back, my grip loosening. “You’re right. My daughter is no fool. She rules the territories and the palace as if born to it. And soon enough, she’ll realize Osric was never meant for her. Even if fate itself tries to bind them…” I exhaled slowly. “…I’ll cut that thread myself.”

A tense silence followed.

Then Rey stepped forward, a glint of mischief—or perhaps foresight—in his eyes.”And what makes you so certain, Emperor,” he asked softly, “that Osric is the one whose fate is truly entwined with the princess?”

. . .

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

He smiled faintly. “We humans are fools. We cling to those we think fate has chosen for us… when in truth, fate may have chosen someone else entirely.”

Ravick blinked. “I don’t understand.”

Rey’s smirk deepened, his tone laced with quiet amusement. “You will. Just wait, and watch how fate reveals her real hand.”

“I don’t care what you meant,” I said flatly, voice low but sharp. “I just hope Osric is not the one for her.”

Rey chuckled softly. “Hope, Your Majesty, is a fragile thing. It tends to shatter the moment fate decides to move.”

My jaw tightened. “Then let it shatter. I’ve already lost enough to fate’s whims—I won’t let it take my daughter too.”

Ravick shifted uneasily, but I didn’t look at him.

Rey tilted his head, eyes gleaming like a serpent’s. “You speak as though fate is your enemy.”

“It is when it comes to my daughter,” I said simply. “And I intend to win.”

The fire crackled, shadows bending toward the throne like silent witnesses.

Then Rey smiled—slow, knowing, almost pitying. “Careful, Emperor. Even fate tends to fall for those who defy her.”

***

[Lavinia’s POV—Weeks Later—Lavinia’s Chamber]

“Meren Kingdom is really taking us lightly, Your Highness,” Sera said as she adjusted the folds of my crimson dress. “They’re provoking for war.”

I met her eyes in the mirror, lips curving slightly. “Then we give them what they want.”

Sera paused, blinking. “Your Highness, if war breaks out… will you be the one—?”

I smirked, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “Of course, Sera. I’m the Crown Princess of Elarion, not a porcelain doll. Ruling a kingdom isn’t just about signing decrees—it’s about knowing when to draw your sword.”

My reflection gleamed back at me—calm, confident, and a little terrifying.

“Papa always said,” I continued, voice soft but steady, “‘When someone keeps provoking you, stay patient at first… but when they forget their place—remind them why you’re the one sitting on the throne.'”

A glint of amusement danced in my eyes. “So if Meren wants a war, I’ll give them one—and maybe a new ruler while I’m at it.”

Sera chuckled nervously, then said, “Maybe I should start planning our next vacation in Meren, then.”

I blinked at her reflection—then burst into laughter. “Pfft! You’re already enjoying your vacation there, aren’t you?”

Her cheeks turned pink. “W-what do you mean, Your Highness?”

“Oh please,” I leaned forward, grinning. “Don’t act innocent. It must be Rey, isn’t it? You’re so fast-forward sera.”

Sera’s blush deepened. “He’s… irritating. But, well… life’s not boring with him around. So it’s easy to be comfortable around him.”

I laughed, standing and smoothing my sleeves. “Careful, Sera. That’s exactly how chaos begins—with one irritating man.”

She grinned. “Says the princess who is chaos herself.”

“Touché,” I said, striding toward the door with a confident sway. “Now, come on. Let’s go remind the council why the word ‘mercy’ doesn’t exist in the Devereux dictionary.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Sera grinned. “Lord Osric must be waiting outside for you. You don’t want to keep him waiting too long, right?”

I shot her a look, feeling my ears heat. “Shut up. Let’s just go—he must be waiting.”

She grinned, saying, “Look at you blushing.”

“Sera…”

“Oops…I am sorry…” she said, still smirking.

I smiled faintly, expecting to see Osric face, But when I swung the door open, the smile froze on my lips.

“…Sir Haldor?”

He stood there, tall and composed in his silver armor, helm tucked beneath one arm. His blue eyes—calm, sharp, unreadable—met mine as he bowed. “Good morning, Your Highness.”

I blinked, a flicker of surprise passing through me. “Where’s Osric? Why is it you today?”

“I’m not certain, Your Highness,” he said evenly. “But when I heard no knight was assigned to your escort this morning, I came as quickly as possible.”

His tone was steady and professional—but there was something about the way he said it, the quiet sincerity behind it, that made the air feel… different.

Sera stepped in quickly. “Maybe Lord Osric is busy with preparations for his coronation ceremony, Your Highness.”

Right. The coronation. Of course. It’s in a week.

I forced a small smile. “You’re probably right.” Then turning back to Haldor, I said, “Very well. Let’s go.”

He nodded once. “As you command.”

We started down the corridor together, the sound of his boots echoing against marble—steady, protective, unhurried. Somehow, it was… grounding.

“So,” I asked, keeping my tone light, “did we receive any new message from Meren?”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Haldor replied. “Their envoy will arrive tomorrow. They’ve requested a private audience.”

“Good,” I murmured. “Let’s see what message their king dares to send.”

For a moment, silence fell again. I glanced sideways at him.

He didn’t avert his eyes or try to fill the quiet. Just walked beside me—tall, solid, calm as a mountain. His presence wasn’t loud like Osric’s; it didn’t need to be. It simply was.

Strange.

The corridor ahead seemed longer than usual. Or maybe… quieter.

I tore my gaze away, pushing down a small, inexplicable flutter. “Let’s go, Sir Haldor,” I said, my tone brisk again. “We should talk to Papa about this first.”

He gave a faint nod, the corner of his mouth curving just slightly. “As you wish, Your Highness.”

And as we walked side by side beneath the sunlight spilling through the grand windows, I couldn’t help but feel—faintly, foolishly—that something in the air had shifted.

Something I couldn’t quite name yet.