Too Lazy to be a Villainess - Chapter 351

Chapter 351: The Warrior Who Learned Softness
[Emperor Cassius POV—Imperial Chambers—Shortly After]

My chambers were quiet.

Too quiet.

The kind of silence that made even the walls listen.

I strode across the marble floor, each step a thunderous crack that echoed like distant war drums. I stopped at the tall window, watching the courtyard below where soldiers trained—shields clashing, swords ringing, dust rising in disciplined rhythm.

Strength. Order. Control.

Everything that General Luke did not bow to.

That bastard stood before me earlier with the arrogance of a man carved by gods—no fear, no trembling, only respect. A man from Astreyon, a closed-off kingdom where even their shadows refused to mingle with outsiders.

And yet here he was. Serving my daughter. Serving my empire.

That flinch when I mentioned love… That silence when I pressed about his family… That buried pain in his eyes…

I narrowed my gaze.

He was hiding something. Something dangerous. Something tied to why he agreed so easily to Lavinia’s demand—why he accepted that invisible imperial collar around his throat. A collar that would kill him the moment he betrayed us.

And then those blue eyes…Not ordinary blue. Not noble blue. A familiar blue that tugged at a memory I could not place.

Where have I seen those eyes?

I turned away from the window and entered deeper into my chambers just as—KNOCK.

Ravick slipped inside, bowing deeply. “Your Majesty… he’s here.”

“Send him in.”

Ravick stepped aside—and in walked the man who carried the same unsettling blue as Luke.

Captain Haldor.

Tall. Silent. Sharp like the edge of frostbite. His cloak brushed against the floor as he bowed deeply—everything Luke was not.

“Captain Haldor greets His Majesty,” he said, voice steady.

My eyes narrowed immediately.

Those eyes. The same familiar shade. The same cold fire.

Don’t tell me… Haldor and Luke?

I leaned on one arm, watching him closely.

“Haldor.”

He straightened instantly. “Yes, Your Majesty?”

“Where is your family?”

The question hit him like a blade. His posture stiffened. A flicker—pain or surprise—crossed his face before his expression deadened completely, turning hollow and distant.

“I lost them in childhood, Your Majesty. I was raised as an orphan.”

An orphan… Unclaimed. Unknown. A soldier forged from nothing. I rubbed my chin slowly.

“An orphan?” I repeated, quieter. “Do you remember your parents’ faces? Anything of them?”

His gaze dimmed, as if staring into a void he’d lived with all his life.

“No, Your Majesty,” he said. “I do not.”

Silence wrapped around us like smoke.

Am I assuming too much? Perhaps. Or perhaps fate has tied a noose of secrets around these two men—and it was only just beginning to pull the rope.

I exhaled through my nose and straightened.

“Very well,” I said. “I want detailed reports of the war. Every strategy, every negotiation, every betrayal, every treasure acquired. Every detail will pass through your hands first.”

He bowed deeply. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“And Captain,” I added, letting my voice drop into a colder register, “handle this with care. I trust your discipline more than I trust the snakes sitting in my court.”

His jaw tightened—but with pride, not fear. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

I flicked my fingers dismissively. “You may leave.”

He nodded once, firmly, and turned on his heel. His cloak swept behind him as he walked out of my chambers, quiet and controlled.

The door shut with a soft thud.

I stared at it for a long time.

Two men. Both outsiders in their own way. Both are hiding wounds they refuse to speak of. Both with eyes that mirror each other like a truth waiting to be uncovered.

Haldor, Luke. What exactly binds you two?

The thought gnawed at me like a beast.

***

[Lavinia’s POV—Theon’s Estate—Later]

“Giggle—!!”

A tiny, bright laugh filled the quiet sitting room.

“Oh my gods, he looks so cute,” Sera squealed as she poked the baby’s chubby cheeks. The little boy kicked in his crib, smiling like the entire world existed just to amuse him.

“He’s adorable,” she added. “Just like you, Lady Evelyn!”

Teacher Evelyn chuckled softly. “Thank you… though to me, he looks much more like Theon.”

I smiled. Of course he did—the same soft curls, the same sleepy eyes. I turned toward the man standing quietly near the window.

“Haldor,” I called gently, “what do you think?”

He blinked, as if suddenly dragged from deep contemplation. His eyes shifted to the baby, studying him with that same serious intensity he used when analyzing battlefields.

Then he cleared his throat.

“I… think he looks like a…” he paused, expression struggling, “…like a cute…koala, Your Highness.”

Silence.

A beat.

Then all of us burst into laughter.

Even Evelyn covered her mouth as she chuckled. “I suppose that means my son truly is cute, Captain Haldor. I’ll take it as a compliment.”

Haldor looked almost offended at himself. “It was meant as one.”

“I know,” I said, laughing softly. “A very adorable one.”

The baby cooed again, arms stretching upward.

I felt my heart soften. “Can I hold him?”

Teacher Evelyn stood, lifting her little boy carefully. She placed him into my arms with a warm smile. “Here you go, Princess.”

The baby settled against me instantly—tiny fingers curling around the fabric of my sleeve, cheek resting on my chest like he’d known me forever.

My breath caught.

He was so small.So warm.So impossibly fragile.

A kind of emotion—tender, unfamiliar—rose quietly in my chest. I rocked him lightly, and he giggled again, reaching toward the small braid near my shoulder.

“He likes you,” Evelyn said.

I smiled, brushing a thumb across his soft cheek. “I like him too.”

The room felt softer. Brighter.

And then—I sensed him.

Haldor shifted beside me, drawn closer without realizing it. His gaze lowered to the baby, and something unguarded flickered in his eyes.

Warmth.Wonder.Nervous fascination.

“He’s… tiny,” Haldor murmured, voice so low it almost wasn’t there. “Fragile.”

“Babies usually are,” I teased gently.

He swallowed—visibly. The baby reached toward him with pudgy fingers.

My brows lifted. “Haldor. He’s calling for you.”

His eyes widened a fraction. “Me? No—Your Highness, I… I don’t think I should—”

“Come here,” I said softly.

He hesitated. But the baby squealed again. And Haldor lost the battle. Carefully—so, so carefully—he stepped closer. I guided the baby’s tiny hand toward his.

The moment those small fingers wrapped around Haldor’s much larger one—something changed.

Haldor froze.

As if the world had stopped beneath his feet.

His breath caught.His shoulders lowered.

His entire expression softened in a way I had never seen—not even during the war, not during training, not even during quiet conversations under the moon.

His blue eyes shimmered—gentle, open, almost glowing and he looked… beautiful.

“Princess…” he whispered, voice shaking almost imperceptibly, “he’s… so warm.”

“So are you,” I murmured.

He looked at me.

I looked at him. And for a heartbeat—long, fragile, breathtaking—it felt like the room disappeared.

Just me.Haldor.And this tiny spark of life is binding us in a way neither of us expected.

The baby gurgled happily, patting Haldor’s wrist, leaving tiny fingerprints on his armor. Haldor exhaled, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

A smile that could melt mountains.

Teacher Evelyn watched us with soft eyes. “You two look… magical,” she whispered.

Sera nodded. “Like a painting.”

Haldor gently traced the baby’s tiny hand with a thumb, as if afraid the child might break. His lips parted slightly in awe.

“I’ve never held a child before…” he admitted quietly. “I didn’t think I’d ever…” His voice cracked, just barely.

My chest tightened. So much pain behind so few words.

“You’re doing perfectly,” I said.

He looked at me again—the heaviness of secrets and longing and something brighter, deeper, warmer.

“I’m only holding his hand,” he whispered.

“But you’re holding him,” I replied. “And that’s enough.”

Something in him softened further—dangerously so.

The baby yawned and snuggled closer, and both of us instinctively leaned in, heads almost touching.

A soft brush of air between us. A heartbeat aligning. A moment stolen by fate.

If someone walked in now, they would see something impossible—a princess and her captain sharing a tenderness no court or law would ever allow.

But fate didn’t care.

Not tonight.

“Why don’t you hold him in your arms, Captain?” Teacher Evelyn said gently.

Haldor flinched so hard the baby blinked at him.

“W–what…? Me?” he stammered. “But what if I—what if he falls or—what if I break something—like him—”

Evelyn laughed softly. “Haldor, babies don’t shatter like glass. Just try.”

He looked at the baby.

Then at me.

His throat bobbed in a hard swallow. I smiled—warm, encouraging, steady. “Try it, Haldor.”

Then his eyes met mine.

Just one glance… and it was as if something inside him caved in. Softened. Surrendered.

“Yes, Your Highness,” he whispered.

His voice was so gentle. Slowly—so slowly it was like handing over a crown—I transferred the baby into Haldor’s arms.

The moment the child settled against his chest—Haldor turned into a statue. Every muscle locked. His shoulders shot up. His hands stiffened into stone. Even his breathing stopped.

Sera clamped a hand over her mouth. “He looks like a petrified mountain!”

I laughed. “Why did you stiffen?”

The baby giggled loudly—as if mocking him. A tiny hand smacked Haldor’s chin. And Haldor’s eyes widened in pure, stunned panic.

“H–He—he touched me,” he whispered, as if announcing divine intervention.

“It’s called affection, Captain,” I teased softly.

He didn’t move.

Not at all.

So I reached out and gently touched his forearm.

“Haldor,” I murmured, “relax.”

His breath shuddered. And then—as if my touch had given him permission—his shoulders loosened.

His grip gentled. His posture softened. His arms curved protectively around the baby’s tiny body.

And just like that—For the first time in his life…

He held a child.

Really held one.

The baby squealed and snuggled closer to Haldor’s chest, tiny fingers curling into the fabric of his uniform.

And something inside Haldor bloomed.

I watched it happen.

The silent awe. The quiet warmth creeping into his eyes. The faint, fragile smile forming on his lips.

A smile that wasn’t cold.Wasn’t restrained.Wasn’t the careful, polite curve he always hid behind.

This one…was real.

He looked beautiful.

Utterly, breathtakingly beautiful—a warrior forged for war now cradling a piece of innocence he never thought he’d deserve to touch.

His gaze lifted slowly… meeting mine.

And the world held its breath.

The soft glow of the window framed him.The baby giggled again.

And Haldor—Haldor smiled.

Not the Captain’s smile.Not the soldier’s smile.Not the guarded, carefully controlled one.

But the smile of a man discovering warmth after a lifetime of cold.

“He’s so beautiful….” I mumbled.